This is the sixth entry in the diary of my pregnancy. Because it would amount to many pages of reading to cover September through to the present day in one post, I've broken this up into readable bits. Here is part six:
Platypus Diaries #6
January 8, 2010
41 today. That’s not the temperature, it’s my age. Gulp.
Speaking of temperature, it was hot – high 90’s. I took the day off work (mainly because I just feel too sorry for myself if I work on my birthday), got a massage which was only mildly nice since they didn’t have any sort of pregnancy pillows and laying on my belly wasn’t pleasant (but heck, it’s a massage, and that’s always nice), and then went off to the public pool with Madden, Eric, and my 39 week pregnant friend Paige.
We were in our bikinis with our big bellies hanging out. Eric took a photo of us which will NEVER be posted on this blog. The pool was packed with people and there was no shortage of pregnant women in bikini’s. Gotta love the body confidence of the Aussie women!
January 11, 2010
Dear Baby number two,
I am sorry that you are not getting the same attention that your sister did when she was in my belly. I have no excuses….I guess I’m just distracted by your sister and focusing on the day to day. Your life so far has gone so fast for me. I can’t believe that you are 23 weeks already! I sometimes read the baby books to find out how big that you are and it is amazing that you have all your parts – a beating heart, lungs, kidneys, 2 hemispheres of the brain, all your cells, 10 fingers, 10 toes, legs, arms, knees, and elbows. I’m sorry that I don’t think about you all the time. Sometimes I look down at my belly and have a moment of shock before remembering that you are in there. You can keep giving me those gentle kicks as a reminder of your presence. It’s particularly funny when you kick me when your sister is sitting on my lap.
The only consolation I may offer is that I was a second child myself and probably didn’t get the same attention either. Does that help?
January 16, 2010
I cried today. I cried about something that happened to someone else 40 years ago. Maybe I didn’t get enough sleep last night as my emotions are a bit on the edge. Before having Madden, I would hear tragic stories involving children and they would give me pangs but since Madden was born, these same stories haunt and terrify me. I can’t bear to hear them.
Today a patient was asking about my pregnancy and we got to talking about children and distances between kids, etc. She mentioned that she had two girls but one of them died rather unexpectedly at the age of 15. Then she looked away and her face showed such pain. It was 40 years ago for her and she’s moved on but she said you never really get over it. How could you?
I was home about two hours later after finishing all my patient checks and I started to tell Eric the story. I choked and then I lost it. I cried for someone else’s lost child from over 40 years ago.
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2 comments:
I know what you mean about your feelings changing when hearing stories about children, I can't watch or read about things like this any more without feeling it. I think it's because you can really relate to the absolute and all consuming love for a child and the emotions that are attached to that. http://twoclickstoalifedownunder.blogspot.com/2010/03/tigress.html - this is how I feel too. Lovely to read about your pregnancy. Enjoy! x
I'm crying for her too right now. I often think about the many couples we know that have tried, like us, for years to get pregnant and to only miscarry. I cry for them almost weekly. Life is just so hard to understand sometimes. But there's this too - last year I braved a new baby class in preparation for our adoption (which we thought at that point would be so much faster). I was the only non-pregnant person there. At the beginning of the class everyone introduced themselves - names, due date, gender of baby, ect. When I introduced myself, I said that my husband and I were adopting our first baby, so the due date was unknown and so was the gender. I tried to explain the immense joy that we felt in our adoption journey after such a sad bout of infertility. Many of the moms-to-be cried, some even sobbed quietly. I was so touched by the emotions these women felt for a complete stranger. Feeling the pain (and joy) of others is a truly beautiful thing sometimes.
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