Thursday, October 11, 2007

Letter to Booger, 38th week

My dear Baby;

This might very well be the last letter I get to write to you while you are still residing inside of me, having your way with my inner organs. We are getting so close now - according to math we are only 16 days away of finally meeting you, but according to what normally happens, "16 days" might very well mean "next week" or "tomorrow". Pretty much any day now - just please, even though you might enjoy your current residence, don't drag this on much beyond 16 days anymore, ok?

Your Daddy and I are really anxious now to finally meet you, we have worked hard to get everything ready for your arrival - and once there is nothing left to prepare, the waiting really becomes the hardest thing. And the people around us don't make this final stage of pregnancy exactly easier, either:

I constantly have someone tell me (in good jest, of course), on which days you can, and cannot come, based on their own schedules. I know it's all in good fun, but when you hear the same joke from different people who all think they are fun and witty, it becomes quite bothersome after a while. It's the same with peoples' worries about me: the other day I didn't pick up the phone when your Auntie#K called me, and immediately she shot a text message to your Tia#R, asking if possibly I was in the hospital already. I have to admit, I actually snapped at her when I did talk to her on the phone later, telling her not to be ridiculous.

Overall, I notice that people tend to take themselves very importantly when it comes to their idea of when they should be notified of your birth, or coming to visit us in the hospital when you are finally here. Everybody wants to be the first to know, everybody wants a phone call as soon as I feel the first twinge of a contraction. Especially your Auntie#K, who will be your "godmother". This title seems to make her overestimate her level of involvement and importance a little too much for my taste - as if this would make her any more special than she already is, being my best friend and all. Being my best friend already puts her very high up on the list of notifications, elevates her from a quick mass-text message to an actual phone call, just like our family is getting, and it's not that her status as "godmother" prioritizes her in any more significant way.

Also, some people seem to think that it's okay for them to come see us in the hospital - even if I have no personal contact with these people myself: they are just friends of your grandparents. How important do they take themselves to think that I am interested in meeting them in the hospital? What makes them think they can put themselves into the very small circle of important people whom I would like to visit me there? When they aren't even someone I feel I "owe" to show you off to at all during a forced visit out of politeness?

I can tell you, if it was up to me - and unfortunately it isn't - I wouldn't want anyone but the absolutely necessary in the hospital at all, and I can narrow the absolutely necessary down to our core family. And even them I would like to hold off for as long as possible, for these first hours with you will be such a special and intimate time between you, your father, and me that I don't want to have spoiled by excited and gawking family members. They, of course, already plan to rush to the hospital the second we tell them that my labor has begun.

You'll see - they are very loving and caring people, can't hold their overeagerness against them.

As far as your and my co-existing is concerned, I can see that the time has come for us to separate soon. I see how nature has intended it, how it prepares for a mother to let go of this most intimate and intense relationship she will ever have with another human being, to mentally prepare to let lose, to actually welcome it. I am still very much enjoying this pregnancy with you - you have made it quite easy on me, and there really isn't much I can complain about. Even now, in the "dreaded" ninth month, I feel that I am probably a lot better off than many other women. Yet, still, I have never been this uncomfortable in my entire life. My back aches, which have been bothering me on and off all throughout but could usually be cured by a good night's sleep have now settled into a constant pain, and a night on my mattress doesn't improve things much at all. By nightfall, the pain is so bad, that I actually do waddle now, in the cliché position of a very pregnant woman: bent back as far as humanely possible, hand pressed against back, slowly limping about. Your Daddy's devoted back massages seem to do no good at all anymore. Also, I need to hold on to your Daddy's arm whenever I want to turn around in bed now, there is no way I can shift your weight by myself anymore, with my busted back. He sometimes also has to help me up from the couch, just from normal sitting down. I think your head is finally lodged into my pelvis now, for I have made acquaintance with a bit of rectal pressure too in the last days. Sometimes I feel like someone must have put a melon or a stone right into my pelvis, especially when walking around for a bit.

Understand, I am in no way annoyed or fed up with you being inside of me yet, as some other women tell me they are, neither am I impatient for your arrival - I am just noticing how this pregnancy seems to be getting harder on me almost by the day now. It's an interesting process to follow, but I will not make the mistake of wanting to rush things along because of it - this is one of the most special and rare times in my life, and I intend on savoring and enjoying every moment of it, the good along with the bad, until it all turns into one wonderful memory.

Well, my Baby. Nevertheless I have already packed our hospital bag with all the things I think we will need (and probably won't need at all), which is sitting next to our door, just in case you decide to come before the next 16 days are over.

All my love,
Mama

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