Motherhood. Mommy. Mom. Soon, very, very soon, these words will apply to me. Damn. I'm not really sure that I'm ready, I wasn't even ready for the pregnancy and the abundance of changes that came about, but I guess most first time mothers have that sense of fear and uncertainty.
I have days where all I can think is, damn.
Initially is was difficult for me to say that I was pregnant. I wasn't wrapping my head around the concept very well. My 'partner', the baby's father, always tells people that I have a 'bun in the oven' or 'one on the way' or some other euphemism, which didn't help me to learn to vocalize what was going on. And then once I finally settled in the comfort of saying, "I'm pregnant." I had another obstacle to overcome.
I had to stop thinking of my pregnancy as some sort of ailment or situation that had to be dealt with and start embracing it as the best part of life and the one metamorphosis that my body would go through that meant more than any other. As uncomfortable and even downright painful as parts pregnancy can be, I wanted to make myself focus less on the discomfort and more on the actual little person that was forming and growing inside of me. This fueled my need to learn as much as possible about what we were going through. I wanted to know, week-by-week, what changes were taking place, what did my baby look like now, what should I be doing differently- any and everything I could pick up. It made the whole process more concrete to me, more real. Especially during that time before I could actually feel my little one kicking and squirming inside of me. Learning about my pregnancy helped me to accept it as natural and not quite as creepy as I once felt.
But that wasn't the end of it.
I'd accepted that I was pregnant. I understood the changes and developments that my tot and I were going through. It took a whole other mindset to translate 'being pregnant' into 'being a mother'.
It was one day in particular that drilled this point home. I was around seven months or so, it was early morning and I was trying to get a few more minutes of sleep. However the karate kicker in my belly had other ideas and simply wouldn't settle down. For about a week or so before this particular day, whenever my little one was restless like this first thing in the morning I would get up and try some prenatal yoga, or go for a short walk (which is my partner's cure for every pregnancy discomfort) but it hadn't been very effective. This morning I had an epiphany that should have been common sense but just wasn't to me; I had to eat something. I was trying to soothe a hungry baby and all I really needed to do was eat. I ate, and a short time later my well fed kicker went back to sleep.
Wow, it sunk in with a vengeance. I have a baby to take care of, regardless of whether or not I'm holding the child in my arms at present, I have a baby, not a pregnancy, to take care of.
So now, with less than three weeks until my due date, I think I get it. I have no idea if I'm going to be a good mommy, but I do realize that everything that is happening means that yes, I'm going to be a mommy. I know I'll be a good provider, everything that this baby has now in preparation for their grand entrance into the world, I've provided.
Plus I've done everything in my power to stay healthy and happy to get my little one healthy and happy before they ever see the light of day. Isn't that what a mommy is supposed to do?
