Dear Bunnee,
My belly is so tight that I can no longer tell the difference between a Braxton Hicks contraction, and you moving. Mama had a prenatal massage today and the massage therapist was convinced you were coming out this weekend. She said “wow, she’s trying to touch the ceiling!” while mama was lying down. I’m excited to meet you, but I’d be lying if I said mama’s not nervous either. But I know it’s going to be a lot of work for you too. One thing I know for sure; I know we’re going to make a good team together.
xoxo Mama
I had a prenatal massage today at the birth center before my 39 week appointment. The massage therapist was convinced that Bunnee was coming out this weekend. “I’d be surprised if she’s late.” She said. I’ve also been experiencing a lot of little signs this past week indicating that my body is getting ready to go into labor. My bathroom breaks are even more frequent, my belly and hips feel tighter than ever, and well, some other things have happened that I’d rather not reveal to the worldwide internet. Even Matt’s mom told us last weekend that she had “a feeling” that Bunnee was coming on Saturday.
And at this point, I very well understand that I could go into labor at any moment. I understand that in my head. And as much as I’m trying to emotionally let go and accept that this is completely out of my control, there is a part of me that is Freaking. Out. I’m trying to let go of any expectations! Don’t be telling me when I’m having this baby!!!!!
I have a friend visiting this weekend with her family from out of state. My girlfriend Ksenija who we loosely talked about photographing my labor won’t be back from her honeymoon until next Friday. I have things I need to return at Target. I need to take off my chipped nail polish and repaint my nails. I haven’t put together my labor music play list! We have a ridiculous amount of green beans that need to be picked from our garden. And OHMYGAWD, we haven’t steam cleaned our carpets yet!!!
Okay, off my soap box. ANYWAY.
I would imagine this is when I go hide into the woods and create a little nook for myself out of branches and leaves if I was a wild animal getting ready for labor. Except gazelles don’t need to worry about steam cleaning carpets. If anything, this anxiety is an indication that if not into the deep woods(and I would prefer not to anyway), I need to go to a deeper place within myself to find peace, quiet and solitude away from all the distractions.
Truth is, I know that the rest of the “stuff” really isn’t that important. “Vacuum” has been on my to-do list for the past three weeks. We’veforgotten about the green beans for so long that they’ve become rogue and giant and looking more like mini cucumbers. I have a 90 day window to return whatever it is at Target. My nails…well, they’re chipped but at least they’re glittered pink and still have the heart shape rhinestone I glued on for the wedding last Saturday. Matt has roughly 10,000 songs on his iPod. Surely, he can find music I’ll be in the mood for.
As much as I try to let go, it’s the thought that tells me that somehow my life is going to halt after Bunnee’s arrival that mildly paralyzes me and floods me with last minute anxiety. It certainly felt that way with Ellie. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t until two or three weeks after Ellie was born when I went on a “solo trip” to the store 5 minutes down the road for a half hour and I remember feeling on edge like a bomb was ticking.
But that was then. I had a lot of anxiety as a first time parent, it was in the middle of a cold and gloomy Michigan winter, and it was a rough adjustment for me.
Bunnee will have her own story. I will have my own story with Bunnee. As crazy as it sounds, I’m actually looking forward to labor. I’ve never been more in tune with my body and mind as I was when I was in labor with Ellie. It was an incredible bonding experience with Matt, and nothing has empowered me more than birthing Ellie. I felt absolutely fearless, and so powerful like I could do anything.
So if Bunnee’s making her grand debut this weekend, so be it. It’s all up to her. It’sd still be nice if I could at least repaint my nails, but oh well. 🙂
