I do not like it, Sam-I-am.
Is it heresy, to admit to pregnant days where you’re awash with misery? Is it ok to take a break from being giddy at the miracle of life? I think the negativity can mostly be traced to a new baby-related ailment I can’t seem to shake off: parental guilt. Because I’m spending all my time at the moment running from this –
to this –
to this –
When really all I want to do is choose nursery paint, buy curtain fabric and launder baby-sized vests. I want to be memorising my baby’s-first-year manuals so I’m a little less likely to drop TJ on his head the first time he needs a bath. I want to spend time pondering over the changes I need to make in my life so I can be sort of mother I admire. I want to shop for clothes that fit, dang it. And I have only ten weeks left to do all these things, and I do not have a spare minute to give TJ any attention beyond a fairly frequent ‘ouch, move over’ and some Elgar in the mornings.
I’ve had that line from Maura Dooley running through my head a lot this year: ‘I’ll pay whatever toll your ferry needs’. Usually I’ve repeated it to myself when groaning on a toilet floor or wanting to cry about my varicose vein. Because I love this little thing fiercely, and whatever toll needs paying [even the varicose vein? Um. Alright, yes] then I’ll offer it up and then some. The problem is that at the moment – which isn’t helping with the guilt – the things I’d like to offer up aren’t available to me.
Sigh. However. Here’s what I’ve decided:
Maybe what my baby needs the most is a mother with the ability to work through stressful situations without constantly whinging about it.
Maybe what I need is a lesson on how to wait for what I most want.
And maybe being the sort of person who is graceful, kind and selfless under pressure (the sort of person I most decidedly am not) is the very best offering I can give him.
It’s probably lucky I’m being given the opportunity to practice.