To be truthful, I’ve been wishing away the end of this pregnancy. Once I hit the third trimester, deep down I needed to be done. Not that I don’t want this sweet baby, but rather I wanted to be over the hump of labor + delivery. I wanted to be through the misery of weight gain in the dead of summer. To begin recovering. Getting my body back. Getting my strength and independence back. Getting to sit and sleep comfortably again.
Dashing from one pregnancy to a year of breastfeeding that overlapped with this pregnancy to more breastfeeding (in the future) has me itching for some personal space.
Then this past weekend, a big mental shift happened. Zach and I had planned to head to our hometown for a day on the lake and maybe even a date night with free grandparent babysitting. We were hoping to create an equal mix of adventure and relaxation. But (luckily and inevitably) we got swept up into lots of family time and outings.
I should explain…
I know more this time around. I see that pregnancy is a hard season for us to connect. We feel distant from each other, and our roles change. He has to be protective and physically help me with things. He worries and cautions me. I am dependent on help and am restricted on foods and exercise. And I balk at being limited in any way. Pregnancy changes our view of each other. While it is a short season, it becomes tiring.
The newborn season is tough in a different way. I remember how we operate on different sleeping schedules. There is a lack of dignity that comes with recovering from childbirth. There is an abundance of Netflix watching and baby cuddling, but not a lot of substantial heart conversation. I remember the influx of visitors and family, which means less time alone. And that drought of emotional connection can leave me feeling a little lost.
Sitting next to my husband on the drive home Sunday night, I felt myself shift. There was a palpable craving for the present.
For these remaining four weeks we don’t expect many visitors, and our schedule is pretty ho-hum. I want to soak in the normal-ness of all 28 days. I want to sit (albeit uncomfortably) with my husband and dream and talk with him. I want to rock my daughter to sleep for every nap and bedtime. Keeping this baby in is the simplest and closest type of care I can give him.
I don’t want to rush ahead anymore. I’ll just stay still and wait.