Almost There

Babies, New Mom, Ponderings body image, motherhood, parentingPosted on

It’s almost 3 a.m. and I should be sleeping.

Because it’s nighttime. Because I have two toddlers upstairs, one of which ended up in my bed because the other woke up and refused to go back to sleep. Because I am very pregnant. The most pregnant I have ever been, and I will soon not sleep because the wee human inside me will be outside and even more demanding on my body (is that even possible?). Because it is nighttime. Because I should be tired.

I am tired. Am I?

I have not uploaded a post to this blog in way too long. Probably because of my little humans. Mostly because of my little humans. And because I’ve been fermenting a third.

But I’m almost there. Or so I thought a week ago. A week ago was a day before my due date. All of my babies arrived on time, with the punctuality of a German shepherd, emulating the biggest life lesson my grandfather ever taught me: be on time, always.

So I’m almost there because how long can a baby actually stay inside? How long should it stay inside? And yet… and yet I feel like this baby will never, ever, ever come out.

I don’t remember what my body is like without it being hijacked by another (truth be told I have either been fermenting humans or feeding them or both for the past almost four years).

I have fought this body (I did fight this body for many years because it wasn’t what I thought it should be, what I was taught it should be, with rubbing thighs and palest skin that shows all hindrances of climate and disappointment in skin care). I fought this body when it started fermenting. It felt like it was breaking. It did break. And it broke me. It was so difficult to see the body I had sculpted for years with diet and exercise was unraveling into softness and curvatures.

I fought the body that was constantly aching and uncomfortable. No one had told me that pregnancy could absolutely suck.

And then she was born, my eldest dragon, my teacher, my beautiful soul.

And nine months later I was fermenting again… because I didn’t want to remember what my body, My body was like before all of this happened or I wouldn’t ever ferment again. Because I would rather go from uncomfortable to uncomfortable than know, actually, physically know, bodily freedom.

And then he was born, my dragon, my sweetness, my mischievous soul.

And eleven months later I was fermenting again… was it going to be my last? I was unsure. I still am, but less so. My body is tired. My parenting is exhausting. My patience is lacking.

And here I am, six days post due.

I discovered my first ever stretch marks last night. I was very unaware on how I’d respond. My first reaction was one of pride. Of absolute pride.

Here are my mama tiger marks.

I thought I’d never get them (oils or genes?), but here they were. Here they are, and forever will mark my skin because I made life inside me, I fermented dragons and they left their clawy marks on my inside and outside.

And then expectation reality kicked in. I have marks. On my skin. Which will never go away. And I felt fine. Because, what can I do about them? Nothing.

No, my body will never ever go back. It can’t. It’s done such incredibly amazing things, how can it?

It will always be something else. Now the proof is on the outside too.

I knitted a blanket for this babe. I knit. I love knitting. I made a very complicated one and then I felt like I was in a hurry. I was in such a hurry I made mistakes at the end. Big ones. The kind of mistakes that would have made the whole blanket unravel and disappear from sight. Why was I in such a hurry? Why did I need to make this blanket as fast as I could? What made me think this tiny human would make an appearance before it’s time. Oh the ponderings at past 3 a.m.

Is this too much rambling for a post that has not been shared in a long time?

Probably.

But here it is.

And I’m still waiting for this babe to make an appearance. It’s the full moon in less than 48 hours. They say there is something with the full moon and birth. I hope so. I’m excited to meet this tiny one who won’t stop moving, who hates to be prodded, who fights surges back, who is making her/his presence known before even being welcomed into the world.

Come out, come out…