Category — Expecting

Image from Life in Motion Photography

My dear friend and doula, Avital, sent me a link to the most beautiful birth video I’ve ever seen. It’s a montage of black and white photos chronicling a home birth, and the most convincing ‘literature’ I’ve come across to encourage natural birth.

I encourage you to watch it.  

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Expect the next installment of Expecting: Poetry Monday morning.

I am a female version of Gumby.
My hands like Jello.
Standing, clearing the table
a new ceramic bowl, now,
a thousand pieces
strewn across the floor.

Here are a few recent shots: 

At the salon (looking a little tired)

At home (my tank tops naturally make their way up like that, there’s no keeping them over the bump anymore) 

The tummy dip is rounding out nicely. It just took a bit of patience (something I’m learning a lot about these days — patience tying/trying to reach my shoes, patience remembering things, etc, etc.) Only about 8 weeks to go!

So, I splurged.

Yesterday we celebrated Father’s Day with a visit to my dad and stepdad, but before stepping out of the house my husband got to experience his very first father’s day:

Eggs Benny. Homemade Hollandaise. Fruit Salad. Bacon. Fresh coffee. A letterpress card.

And tickets! to see Death Cab at the Coliseum next month. Woohoo!

I read this interesting article about how to bond with your preborn baby over the weekend. Apparently baby will be rocking out at the concert with us!

“Concert-going mothers report their preborn babies jump at the sudden sound of drums. In fact, from at least the 23rd week on, a preborn baby’s hearing is developed enough to enable him to respond to outside noise… Even the five-month-old fetus has been found to have discriminating musical ears.”  - From 7 Ways to Bond with your Preborn Baby 

And now Michael is off to Toronto for a week of work. Darling, I miss you already.

At Jen’s request, I’m sharing another pregnancy poem. Much less funny but just as honest, I hope:

You, my child.

My darling child,
your hands, as webs,
reach out to touch my insides.
“Mommy, I am here.”
You knit my womb and heart
together with strings.
Your smile already my companion.

My angel,
you speak to me through your
rumblings,
coursing blood, water, tears
out from my fingertips.
I imagine your steps,
giant, small
and wonder at your nature.

I crawl, small, into my Father’s hands,
whispering thanks,
gasping for all the Love
in the world there is to give,
because you deserve it
my darling.

I imagine your face wrinkled, calm.
swimming through your
childhood, already begun.
I marvel at your daring heart,
already,
wishing nothing but hope and
promise and life -
lovely things, lovely things
for you.

You wake now, with passion
stirring like earth quakes,
as I pray.
your voice calling out
“amens”.
I can hear you saying your
yeses. saying yes to the world.

“Yes world, I am coming.”
 
i love you.  
- mama

Image: by By-Your

It won’t be long until I’ll no longer be able to hop in a car at 10 pm and speed up the Sea to Sky for a sunny day spent with my nephews. So tonight I will indulge.

It’s a bit of a theme in my life at the moment. I have two more months before I am officially a mama and I’m basking in every moment. It’s not that I’m not looking forward to motherhood - I am, so much! - rather, I’m trying to fully embrace the seasons of life and for now I’ve got a midnight trip in me. 

Have a happy Monday!

The innie remains an innie (so far) although I am encountering depths of my belly button I’ve never seen before, my feet are swollen beyond belief, and I officially stopped wearing my wedding band as of yesterday when my mother-in-law had to wrench the piece of metal over my knuckle with dish soap and a lever made of dental floss. 

On the pregnancy note, I bring you this poem (of sorts) written in month three:

I am eating convulsively, though I find it repulsive.
It’s all I can do to sleep.
My boobs keep growing
and my nipples are SO sensitive
I scream in the shower
cowering in the corner –
hiding my chest away from
the faucet.

Yes. I am pregnant.

Image by Kameron Bayne

At our first prenatal class on Tuesday night the instructor had each of us squeeze an ice cube in our hand for 45 seconds. It hurt like a $%#%$#&. You can imagine the laughter when I read this little birth class Q & A this morning:

Q: Will keeping a hand in a bucket of ice during class really approximate labour pain?

A: Yes, more or less — just imagine the ice is the polar ice cap and you’re slowly being crushed under it while somebody jabs an icicle in your spine. 

Oh God, help me.

Today I enjoyed this word from Katrina Onstad on throwing out the plan, the birth plan, that is. 

“Modern times, don’t be so pushy,” Chatelaine, August 2008

Our birth plan in progress. We are planning to have our baby at home. We are planning to have a birth pool (I find water incredibly calming.) We have two backup hospitals. We have a group of midwives, one of which will be at our birth. I have a wonderful doula. We started prenatal classes last night. I’m taking yoga classes.

But really, when the water breaks, it’s anyone’s game.

This pregnancy thing is really one giant exercise in trust.

The baby is kicking his/her agreement as I type… ;)