The return of contractions, most likely Braxton Hicks, has brought back the ghost of my pregnancy with Oona. It's my job to make those ghosts go away and be confident in this pregnancy as its own unique thing. I have to say that that is much easier said than done. After Oona, I swore I would never do this pregnant thing again. Semi-regular contractions, some Braxton-Hicks, some real, from 22 and a half weeks on was emotionally and physically exhausting. With Gemma, I pretty much had five minute contractions, real ones even if they weren't producing much of change, from 34 weeks until she was born at close to 41 weeks. It's easy to say that since I carried both girls to term in spite of the contractions that they're really not a big deal. But a baby's life is in the balance and it seems wrong to gamble it. And maybe if I hadn't rested, I wouldn't have carried to term. Is it possible to know for sure? So here I am, needing to rest to keep my uterus in check and the ghost of bed rest is taunting me. I so hope that it stays far far away and doesn't become a reality. Right now it's hard not to resent this little one for asking me to be his Mom and then I feel guilty about that. My job, now, is to keep those fears and ghosts at bay, forgive myself for the resentment and move on. I'm confident that once this is all over and I meet the little guy that it will have been all worth it.
I think one lesson of motherhood is that there are times when your agenda and how you think things should be is not the most important thing in the world and may be the least important. I'm not advocating the erasure of self that can happen with some Moms. There are times when self care needs to come first. And there are times, and this is probably one of them, that the desires of my self and my ego need to come last. Sometimes other things and other little beings are more important.
Pregnancies past... with Gemma, then me in my spot on the couch with Oona.
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