Anne TootillTo Be or Not to Be a Mother -Part One
September 27th 2006 17:08
Hellooo…anybody out there? It’s been two months and counting. Just starting my seventh month so that makes two more months of captivity to go. Not much to report since contact with the outside world has been limited. Everyone has a life, you know. They have jobs, family obligations, people to see, places to go.
I’ve started to read through some pregnancy books in my spare time. You see I’ve been having these contractions for a while now. The books call them Braxton Hicks (too lazy to check the spelling) and for the most part they’re benign, meaning I’m not in labor, but because of all my health issues I worry that these contractions aren’t quite the nothing the books make them out to be. So I’ve been tracking the development of the fetus, mentally marking off the milestones until it’s safe for the baby to be born. I know it’s silly but I’ve been playing this little game with myself – right now the only available players are me, myself and I - I match-up my week of gestation in the books and see where my baby is. Head, check, arms, check, legs, check. And then I look forward. If he (did I mention that we’re having a boy?) hangs in for another week he gets fingernails, then teeth, then hair. So I tell Josh (that’s his name, either that or Jonathan) that he needs to stay put because his mommy says so. Then I get teary-eyed (those hormones we can’t live with them, can’t live without them).
At the moment I am most concerned with the lungs. When it comes to that organ, can’t get too much of a good thing. One more week, I coach my unborn child, then one more. C’mon Josh/Jon we’re almost there. Hang in there son. Did you hear that? I’m going to have a son. Me, I’m going to be a mother. Ohmigod, I’m going to be a mother!
I’ve started to read through some pregnancy books in my spare time. You see I’ve been having these contractions for a while now. The books call them Braxton Hicks (too lazy to check the spelling) and for the most part they’re benign, meaning I’m not in labor, but because of all my health issues I worry that these contractions aren’t quite the nothing the books make them out to be. So I’ve been tracking the development of the fetus, mentally marking off the milestones until it’s safe for the baby to be born. I know it’s silly but I’ve been playing this little game with myself – right now the only available players are me, myself and I - I match-up my week of gestation in the books and see where my baby is. Head, check, arms, check, legs, check. And then I look forward. If he (did I mention that we’re having a boy?) hangs in for another week he gets fingernails, then teeth, then hair. So I tell Josh (that’s his name, either that or Jonathan) that he needs to stay put because his mommy says so. Then I get teary-eyed (those hormones we can’t live with them, can’t live without them).
At the moment I am most concerned with the lungs. When it comes to that organ, can’t get too much of a good thing. One more week, I coach my unborn child, then one more. C’mon Josh/Jon we’re almost there. Hang in there son. Did you hear that? I’m going to have a son. Me, I’m going to be a mother. Ohmigod, I’m going to be a mother!
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