At the San Diego Zoo last month, we took a bus tour. The guide pointed out hyenas, ostriches, and penguins. We slowed down when we passed an exhibit with a huge white bear lying flat on its back on a log with its arms hanging limply to each side. This is our polar bear, the guide said, she used to be energetic and feisty but lately she just lies lethargically on the log and sunbathes. She paused. We believe she’s pregnant.
Ah polar bear, I can relate. You know how I’ve been saying the pregnancy is flying by? Apparently it heard. And it said, oh really? Flying you say? Well we wouldn’t want to fly too quickly now would we? And then proceeded to screech to a halt. I mean, what other explanation could there be?
I’m quickly transforming from a cute little tug-boat to full-occupancy cruise-ship status. I’m fairly convinced that any minute now some confused tourist will flag me down and present me with boarding documents. Just today my son, after observing my attempt to get out of my wedged spot on our sofa, announced: mama big. mama heavy. mama big and heavy! So glad we can communicate so clearly now. He’s right, though my brain hasn’t quite processed the sheer size of me. I still can be seen hiking trails, insisting nothings changed just because I’m in my last month, and then getting helped up from having fallen flat on my back because of this thing called roots and leaves and gravity.
I’m also tired. Not sleepy necessarily, just “don’t make me get up from this couch, I cannot physically peel myself off of it under any circumstances. . . sniff.. you pooped didn’t you?” bone tired by the end of a one-hour trip to the grocery store. Life goes on. Dishes are washed, and dinners are cooked, but it all requires more effort than it did even two weeks earlier. I can’t remember if I was this exhausted the first time around, or if chasing a feisty toddler who thinks pasta strainers make excellent head gear, just depletes the energy stores I might have had the first go around.
Because of said exhaustion I’m trying to take it easy when it comes to the nesting-instinct which is screaming at me to upholster! stitch! crochet! and do a million other things I have no idea how to do. Still, I keep worrying that I’m missing Some Very Important Detail about getting ready for the baby. I’ve purchased a few warm footed PJs and have a winter footed jacket. I ordered a new changing pad and some bottles. But surely I’m missing something that I really and truly need and can’t figure out due to my foggy, lethargic, state of mind? [If you’re reading with a clearer head and see quite clearly what I need, please do share]
In addition to the physical, there’s the whole hormonal roller coaster I’m on. Ever been on one of those rides where you skyrocket from top to bottom in ten seconds flat? They just might rename that ride: Aisha. Seriously, one minute life is beautiful and poetic and a place of sustenance and wonderment and the next everything makes me want to weep from the way my son is growing up way too fast, the gold and yellow tree and how could it possibly be bereft of leaves so soon, and the worries of all that could ever possibly go wrong in every possibly way. Hormones are a powerful beast. Mine could give the Smoke Monster a run for his money. Luckily I’m surrounded by understanding people who patiently put up with this quite cliche pregnant person who gets verklempt over shampoo ads.
Still, I am aware that this is all temporary. My friend just had a baby a few weeks ago. We’ve been coordinating when I can come by to meet her newest daughter, and she wrote to me, enjoy pregnancy! I miss it. Which she’s right. As sleepless as life is right now, as much as I’ve now given in to the state of the waddle, I do love holding this life so close to me. I feel blessed beyond belief at this incredible gift I’ve been given. Soon I’ll be so busy I won’t know what to do with myself, and soon, I will miss this time when he was safely tucked inside with nary a poopy diaper or feeding to speak of. In the meantime, should you want to hang out with a slightly lethargic sun-bathing polar bear, there’s really no need to book a ticket to San Diego, just come on by, you’ll find a good impersonator wedged into my living room couch.
|Of one thing I am certain: At one time, I had toes. Where they went, I cannot say.|