Last night, while I was taking a bath, I saw Baby do a complete roll over. It was fascinating. I thought, “wow, a person just rolled over in there.” Obvious, but continually startling, is the fact that a baby is hanging out in my uterus. She’s two pounds-ish. At this point, she’s a tiny and fully formed baby-looking baby. And I don’t know what parts I saw moving, but it was definitely a first-time massive show of force by the Baby growing in there. The other night, she kicked me 6 times, rapid- fire. She’s planning something.
She forced me to eat a Heath shake at Cold Stone yesterday. Not my idea…HERS. Even after a very healthy first breakfast of whole grain cereal with bananas, and a very healthy second breakfast of Oats n Honey granola and yogurt, she caused me to crack. How is she so firmly in charge?!
I again feel so different after seeing that little rollover manouever. I feel we’ve reached a whole new level, Baby and I. I called for Tim to come see, because I hoped she’d do it again. Of course, as she is firmly in charge, she suddenly got shy and decided not to budge at all. I want to see it again. I want to see a little foot or hand. This was a connection very different from the ultrasounds. The kicks are fun. The ultrasound pics are amazing and adorable. The roll…was babylike and real.
I’m going to be a mom. I guess I already am. I don’t even pretend to comprehend what that means. I think of the fun parts and the scary parts. I think of a 17 year old naive girl stumbling drunkenly into her car after a party, I think of a 3 year old girl snuggling in my lap and giving me hugs. I think of seeing her graduate from college, I think of her flunking out of grad school. I imagine guitar lessons or dance recitals, I imagine a teenager who locks herself in her room and won’t talk to me.
Television has given me a wrongheaded impression that parenthood is going to be sticky from one end to the other, and at some point, I’m going to be one of those teary, denial-filled mothers shown on Law And Order who swears her kid would never have stabbed a classmate for drugs. On the otherhand I think of the way I was raised, and the relationship I had with my parents. I struggle to figure out how to make Baby have the exact childhood I did. What did my parents say to me again? What was I punished for and what did they let slide? What was it that made me turn out to be an ok kinda person?? Because I cant seem to remember...
but right now, I’m imagining pushing her in her stroller around the park. I’m imagining laying her gently in her bassinet so I don’t wake her up after a feeding. I’m imagining her eyes meeting mine with glazed baby-wonder when we see each other for the first time.
And I’m feeling this is becoming more real every day...and I'm excited. But I'm scared.
She forced me to eat a Heath shake at Cold Stone yesterday. Not my idea…HERS. Even after a very healthy first breakfast of whole grain cereal with bananas, and a very healthy second breakfast of Oats n Honey granola and yogurt, she caused me to crack. How is she so firmly in charge?!
I again feel so different after seeing that little rollover manouever. I feel we’ve reached a whole new level, Baby and I. I called for Tim to come see, because I hoped she’d do it again. Of course, as she is firmly in charge, she suddenly got shy and decided not to budge at all. I want to see it again. I want to see a little foot or hand. This was a connection very different from the ultrasounds. The kicks are fun. The ultrasound pics are amazing and adorable. The roll…was babylike and real.
I’m going to be a mom. I guess I already am. I don’t even pretend to comprehend what that means. I think of the fun parts and the scary parts. I think of a 17 year old naive girl stumbling drunkenly into her car after a party, I think of a 3 year old girl snuggling in my lap and giving me hugs. I think of seeing her graduate from college, I think of her flunking out of grad school. I imagine guitar lessons or dance recitals, I imagine a teenager who locks herself in her room and won’t talk to me.
Television has given me a wrongheaded impression that parenthood is going to be sticky from one end to the other, and at some point, I’m going to be one of those teary, denial-filled mothers shown on Law And Order who swears her kid would never have stabbed a classmate for drugs. On the otherhand I think of the way I was raised, and the relationship I had with my parents. I struggle to figure out how to make Baby have the exact childhood I did. What did my parents say to me again? What was I punished for and what did they let slide? What was it that made me turn out to be an ok kinda person?? Because I cant seem to remember...
but right now, I’m imagining pushing her in her stroller around the park. I’m imagining laying her gently in her bassinet so I don’t wake her up after a feeding. I’m imagining her eyes meeting mine with glazed baby-wonder when we see each other for the first time.
And I’m feeling this is becoming more real every day...and I'm excited. But I'm scared.
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