Saturday, April 12, 2014

Slow Motion

 Today I am 37 weeks and 4 days pregnant, and I can't believe it.
 If nesting is a sign of impending labor, labor is still weeks away, because I have lost all motivation. It is a much more relaxing state of affairs than the anxious dashing around of the previous weeks, and I have really been enjoying it.
 I'm not actually inclined to believe in nesting as a labor sign. For me, by the last month of each of my pregnancies, the house is about as organized as it's going to get. The dirt and crumbs and much less bothersome. My senses are still on high alert, but in a different way.
 My body is awkward and heavy, and the helplessness of it is such a strange feeling. It makes me all the more aware of my human frailty.
I remember reading a month or so ago in Mark, Jesus said "how awful it will be for pregnant and nursing mothers" in reference to the tribulation. And it made me feel so....validated. What a unique life experience is this time. There is the physical vulnerability, of course. And on top of that is the emotional vulnerability. The hormones, of course, but more than that: the sacred responsibility of protecting and sheltering a life that depends completely on you.
My fundal height increased by 5 cm in one week, and it is now measuring only 2 weeks behind. Which is in part because his head went from partially engaged to floating again. Looks like we're in this for the long haul.
 Which is just what I was hoping for all along. An early May baby perhaps. A maternity leave that stretches further into the summer with my biggest boy.
 And a few more weeks to soak up the end of what I can only assume is the last time I will have a tiny little human inside of me, kicking my insides, and upsetting my stomach, and making me feel completely exhausted...and in awe of what is to come.
 Which brings me to the new form of nesting that I seem to have entered. That I almost forgot.
 The mental and emotional preparation for something sacred.
 Last weekend, JT and I were able to get away for 24 hours for a marriage retreat at the Hilton. It was a great time to connect and relax together, as well as with other Christian couples. We swam in the heated pool together, and I spent a lot of time with my feet in the hot tub.
 This week when Aquaman was at school, The Dude and I made a special trip to Incredible Pets, and yesterday we wandered Gleason Park in the clouds and wind. He climbed in my lap and gave me lots of kisses and hugs, and I didn't hurry him. I don't feel hurried anymore. My Mary heart has escaped the chaos of this Martha world for a little while, and I am soaking it in.
I'm in slow motion. Physically, my body wouldn't move fast even if it tried.
Emotionally, I don't mind.
I lay in bed and soak in the way the mattress feels soft on my skin, the way the cool breeze drifts in from the screened balcony and the soft whirring of the fan.
I sit and watch my boys play on the beach, making intricate sand ramps for their monster trucks, and chasing the seagulls.
I rock them both at night, even when the pressure on my belly makes it hard to breathe, and we laugh when we realize that there are FOUR people in one little rocking chair.
I boil the pacifiers, and pack my hospital bag, and put a towel in the car just in case and stare at the carseat, trying to picture it, and watch my youngest-son-on-the-outside, and want to memorize him. Want to stop time, or slow it way way down.
Because something miraculous is about to happen.
Something beautiful and life changing, and I don't want to miss a moment of it.

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