I simply cannot believe she is two weeks old today.
So it’s been just over two weeks since I last wrote, and obviously, quite a bit has happened since then – namely, I had a baby! Me. I gave birth. To a person. It’s amazing how much life can change in the span of fourteen days.
First, I would like to thank everyone for the well-wishes, prayers, thoughts, emails and messages during this time. Even though I was off busy birthin’ a baby, I can’t tell you how much I missed blogging, and how touched I was by the outpouring of support. You all are swell. Seriously.
I admit that I am having some difficulty writing this post. I’m scrolling through my phone looking for pictures to supplement, and I’m overcome with emotion. Aisha’s delivery and birth were difficult – traumatic, even. We almost didn’t make it. And while we’ve both come out of the experience no worse for wear, the enormity of it seeps into my conscience every now and then, and it’s sobering. Sometimes I tear up. Sometimes I cry outright. Read more
Initial surprise notwithstanding, I have to say I’m pretty freaking happy that li’l miss is coming into the world a good week or so earlier than planned.
At 38w1d, I’m extremely uncomfortable. I know I keep bitching and moaning about it, but as anyone who has made it to this point (and sometimes beyond) can tell you, the last weeks aren’t much fun.
in the nude…
Currently, I don’t like wearing clothes. I haven’t bought a stitch of maternity gear, so the the few loose-fitting items I wore in month six, seven and even eight REALLY don’t fit me now. I’ve resorted to a pair of tights and pajama pants borrowed from mum, and a few stretchy tank tops. When I wear my own clothes, I look as though I’ve been stuffed into them. It’s impossible to look cute now, which is why I’ve pretty much stopped leaving the house. I’ve always been comfortable in the buff, but now that I’ve moved into ginormous territory, I am happiest in just my underwear (and even those feel too constricting at times) with a sheet covering me for modesty.
I really should clean the mirror.
I am huge, I am uncomfortable and I can barely breathe. I’m unable to sleep for more than two to three hours at a time, so I’m exhausted, a little cranky and always hungry. I can’t pee without experiencing Braxton-Hicks, and with my ever-expanding dimensions, simple, daily things like climbing the stairs or washing the dishes leave me breathless. I can’t eat without spillage, as the belly makes it impossible to pull up to the table – no matter how careful I am, I invariably drop something in transit from plate to mouth. Being comfortable in clothes – or in my skin! – seems like a distant memory.
However, with every kick, roll, flutter and turn, I grow more and more excited and curious about the little peanut who still grows inside me. I wonder if she’ll be as active outside as she is in my womb. Will she be a happy baby? Will she be a cuddler? Will she like music? Will she be a sleeper or an eater? Will she be a tiny baby? What will her first cries sound like? I’ve never been so unsure, but also anxious, impatient and thrilled at the prospect of being a mommy. I simply cannot wait for the arrival of the little whirlwind that’s going to change my life forever.
Any day now, Aisha. Any day.
I’ve been a bit incognegro these last few days. I had a rather big writing assignment to complete, as well as a few engagements, and then there was my un-shower…so I had good reason for not blogging. Or, at least, that’s what I’m telling myself. And you.
first things first…
Last Friday marked 34 weeks. My little peanut is actually the size of a honeydew melon (finally, produce that I enjoy eating!) and will prolly remain about that size for the next two weeks or so. She has been transverse breech for the majority of this pregnancy, but lately has taken to basically standing upright (footling breech) in the womb, feet kicking my bladder. Fun.
high tea at the Windsor Arms…
What more can I say? It was High Tea. At the Windsor Arms. And it was lovely. We wore fascinators. And took pics. We looked great! We had canapés and mini-sandwiches, and quiches with fancy stuff in’em. The scones were OFF THE CHARTS (though I really could have done without the desserts. They were only “meh.”) My girls surprised me with a little mom-to-be evening out, including a GC for a mani and pedi. Aw. I’m not a spa-girl, but I will haul my heavy backside out to Bayview Village and get my F&Ts done.
The fabulous five and their four fascinators.
I was lying on my bed, lost in thought, as I mentally reviewed earlier exchanges I’d had with a cousin and the boy in two separate disagreements. I’m not nearly as thin-skinned as I used to be, and in fact, I’ve grown rather proud of my tolerance for being disliked.
(In spite of my armour, I always find it unsettling when people resort to barbs or the casting of aspersions to illustrate/disguise their point. I don’t fight dirty – mainly because I don’t like having to take back something I’ve said; It seems like a waste of words…And really, if I utter it, it’s more likely true than not.)
Uncomfortable, I rolled slightly to my right to alleviate pressure on my back. The motion caused a wee point to appear below the surface of my abdomen. Foot? Knee? Elbow? I wasn’t quite sure. I returned to centre, and pulled myself into a seated position.
The point appeared again, and I realized it was a hand. I watched it trace an arc across my stomach, and followed it with my finger. I felt tears forming and let them fall. I was suddenly moved by the timing of it all, as if my little one was reaching out to me to remind me that she loved me, regardless of what anyone else thought of me at that very moment.
I love her right back.
Never let me go.
It’s the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend. So many things to be grateful for. At the top of my list this year, is my little girl. I had dinner with the in-laws out in Milton today, and as I got ready, I played this song on iTunes.
It’s called Aïcha (love the spelling). Originally performed by Algerian artist Cheb Kaled (and, apparently, one of his most popular songs), I prefer the salsa-infused version by Africando. I loved this song from the moment I heard it some years ago; never would it have occurred to me that I would one day come to give my daughter the same name. When her father and I were tossing about names, this song didn’t even cross my mind. A happy coincidence.
do you know what today is?
I interrupt the recent hernia-related updates to inform that today is my anniversary. My post-surgery sweetie is doing all right and healing nicely. I checked in on him while I was at work today (I’ve taken a short proofing gig, filling in for a friend who is on a pregnancy-related leave of absence), and he told me that he had walked to the store to get me a little something for the occasion.
He admitted that it’d taken him a while, but he had a checkup this morning and after the doctor’s appointment/approval, he felt well enough to move around some more.
When I got home, I found that he’d bought me flowers, cupcakes and a card. I am touched by the gesture; I wasn’t expecting anything at all, really, because I figured he wasn’t up for much on account of healing. It was a lovely surprise.
Mi amor. He can be so sweet, sometimes. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been interesting since day one…
I wouldn’t trade him for anyone else. Not even Channing Tatum.
This was taken at a friend’s house, just a few short weeks after we met. I was smitten then…today, I love him mega-bunches. 😀