mom, homeschooler, and writer — in that order.
via The Glow
There are some days when being pregnant makes me feel so beautiful. A new life is on its way and among the millions and millions of women in the world, my body is the chosen vessel. It makes me feel strong. It makes me feel special. I glow.
Then there are days when I just feel like a penguin, waddling to the bathroom for the umpteenth time.
We only have a few weeks left before we get to meet the Little One! I am now entering that phase when even the sight of little mittens and socks make me swoon. Were they always this cute?
While I spend a large chunk of my day daydreaming about how awesome it will be to finally hold my baby, I can’t help but have moments when I think I am way out of my league. This is a baby we’re talking about. A tiny, tiny human being. Do I have it in me to take care of this child? What if I am an evolutionary outlier and I don’t have maternal instincts? What if I accidentally drop the baby? I mean, what are my qualifications for taking care of anything in the first place? I had a dog and a tomato plant. I don’t even play Farmville because I dislike the commitment.
The other night, I was up until around 3am because I literally had one thought in mind: what if I forget to feed the baby?
It seems silly, really. My friends have assured me that the baby will not let you forget that he or she is hungry. Your eardrums will be reminded when it’s time for sustenance. But still.
I would be absolutely devastated if I scarred my child for life because of things I did or did not do. I’ve been reassuring myself with the thought that I am not the first woman to give birth. I mean, motherhood has been done before. If others can do it then surely, so can I, right?
But then I think about that time when I scarfed down a bag of Cheetos that I’m not supposed to have. Or that time when I delayed seeing my doctor by five days. Or that time when I forgot to drink my prenatal vitamins. The baby isn’t even here yet and I’m already letting her down.
Everyone has been telling me that all mothers, especially first-timers, experience some level of anxiety. “You’re going to be fine”, they say. My husband, so soothing and supportive, tells me that motherhood is not about doing things perfectly. The baby just needs to be loved.
That’s probably the most reassuring thing ever, because I’m pretty sure perfection is out of the equation. But I can do love. Yes, I think I’ll be able to do that quite well.
Baby kicks woke me up last night so I tried to keep myself occupied while I waited to feel sleepy again. As I was puttering around the room, I found myself thinking about the things I want to teach my child. Every concept, from the alphabet to dating, is suddenly so fresh and exciting because I get to see them from a different perspective. Everything I know, I will try to pass on to her (or him) and it will be interpreted and lived out, as my child grows up and starts making decisions.
Funnily enough, one of the first thoughts I had is that I want to teach my child to not be a music snob.
So Little One, when you are old enough to develop your own tastes in music, do not be turned off by what’s old or unpopular. In the same way, don’t think that just because something is current, it is no good. Listen and decide for yourself. Pay attention to the lyrics. You might miss out on something beautiful if you confine yourself when it comes to music. Even songs that are considered corny and old-timey can move you to tears if you give it a chance.
Having said that, think twice before liking any song with the word “badonkadonk” in the lyrics.
After months of being told that my emotions will probably get the better of me while I’m pregnant, it finally happened. I ended up having an uncontrollable bout of weeping last night.
My husband, looking so concerned, kept on asking me if there was anything I was upset about. I couldn’t really articulate what I was feeling. There was no emotion that stood out — it a jumble of mild insecurity, feeling left out or left behind, and anxiousness. Now, these are emotions that I pretty much live with on a daily basis, even before I got pregnant. I guess the hormonal changes magnified them? I’m not sure. Mostly, I was crying because I felt like crying. It was so weird, I could not stop. It was almost like I was leaking tears. My husband just held me while I simply dissolved.
After about five minutes of sobbing, the tears just stopped. Just like that, I felt okay. It was, to say the least, a baffling experience.
For all those who have gone through pregnancy, is this normal? With or without a baby, have you ever felt sad for no apparent reason?
My husband gives me the most beautiful letters. The quote above is from one of the earliest letters he sent, back when he was courting me. I memorized it by heart, down to the details of the yellow envelope in came in. Years later, we got married and he continues to floor me with his words, written or otherwise. I am still so awed at how he sees me.
P.S. Letters are lovely.
I credit my mom for my lifelong love affair with books. She didn’t baby me when it came to reading materials. Some of my earliest memories involve my mom reading me stories by O Henry and Guy de Maupassant after she got home from work. Even though The Last Leaf and The Necklace were personal favorites, what childhood isn’t complete if a fairy tale or two wasn’t thrown into the mix?
When I saw these posters by Christian Jackson, my heart melted. They’re so sleek. Imagine the story times the little one and I would have in the future if the book covers in our collection looked like these. We would be the coolest readers in town.
The Wizard of Oz poster is particularly funny.
In a sea of financial obligations, debits, credits, expectations that may either be met or unmet, there are many things that I still need to be thankful for. I spent a large chunk of this week thinking about my decreased capacity to earn because of my sensitive pregnancy, oftentimes feeling guilty because I want to contribute more, more, more. It made me sad.
This Sunday, I am taking a step back. I’ll rest my everyday in the knowledge that God provides and enjoy the fact that my husband is generous, hardworking, and responsible. We are a team, my husband says. I should learn that being part of this team means that I should be just as comfortable with taking as I am with giving. Give and take, love and be loved. Yes, there is much to be thankful for.
Dear Little One,
We only have a few more weeks left before we get to meet you. I can’t even begin to say how excited we are. I feel like I’ve spent the past couple of months holding my breath and now, I’m ready to burst. Judging from your kicks and the premature contractions, I think you share our excitement. Our kisses are waiting for you.
In the meantime, I feel like there are some things that you should know about your daddy and I. That way, you would not be too surprised when you finally meet us.
First, your daddy likes to pace, especially when he is telling a story. The more exciting the story is, the faster he will go.
I shake my head whenever I think of something that I don’t want to remember. I imagine that the thoughts are flung right out of my brain.
Your daddy will have an explanation for everything. He loves information and will eat data for breakfast.
I never get a bad stomach, no matter what I eat. (I really hope you inherit my strong stomach. It is very convenient.)
A recurring joke between your daddy and I is that he is a monologuer and I am a dialoguer. He narrates his actions and I have the tendency to recreate previous conversations.
Little one, I can’t wait to find out what your quirks will be. We’ll have so much fun getting to know each other. I promise.
Love,
Mommy
The other day, I met a really nice lady named Sarah. Sarah is in town for a couple of days visiting her daughter who is an intern here in Manila. Now, it just so happens that Sarah is a breastfeeding consultant. For a pregnant lady such as myself, this meeting was a date with destiny.
Sarah gave me a lot of literature on breastfeeding, but the most striking one for me was on something called the Breast Crawl. Paraphrasing in all my newbie mom glory, it’s when a newborn is placed on the mother’s chest right after he or she is born and allowed to find the breast without being rushed or assisted. This procedure is recommended by the WHO, UNICEF, and WABA.
My husband and I watched a video on the Breast Crawl last night, and I was left weeping like nothing else. You can’t help but cheer for the baby as she finds her way to the breast, her little legs and arms purposely propelling her forward. It was amazing. Like Chariots of Fire times 10. When the baby finally latches on, you will feel her triumph. The baby from the video was so wide-eyed and precious, I am just beside myself with anticipation for my own baby’s arrival.
After seeing how miraculous the process was, I am utterly convinced that this is something I would like to do when I give birth.
More information via breastcrawl.org
Love,
Mommy
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