A Turning Point

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I feel time barreling down on us like a runaway freight train.  There is no normal anymore. There is only this surreal sort of time warp I feel like we are in, where moments last a lifetime and weeks are racing by.  Never in my life have I been so acutely aware of the physical limitations of my body at the same time in awe of the limits that this body seems to surpass.  My belly is beginning to reach unrealistic proportions that make Papa giggle with delight.  The tightness tingles and itches.  I make funny noises getting in and out of bed.  Forget about bending over to pick things up.  That is just a joke waiting to happen.  It took me almost twenty minutes to put on some knee-high boots today.  I was sweating near the end, laying on my back.  I can’t stand up, sit down, or lay down for any length of time.  It’s constant movement.  Constant change.  Every morning a new adventure, every evening a new challenge;  will I sleep tonight?

The latest and greatest has been a new and fascinating ache in my hips.  It feels almost like the ligaments connecting my femurs to my hip sockets have given up, quit the scene, left the building.  I walk funny as a result.  I am careful about where I place my feet, as I don’t trust my base.  Sometimes it looks like I am drunk.  Scary thought. It has been a long time since I have been drunk.

The best advice today was to keep walking, uphill or upstairs, even when I don’t want to. To sit on a pregnancy ball and roll my hips.  To practice squatting with Papa while watching The Game of Thrones.  To see a chiropractor and an acupuncturist.  It was a lot of advice.  I’ll take as much of it as I can.

I wish things didn’t cost so much money.  I think holistic medicine should be free.  But then no one would want to practice it and then it would disappear.  I am not a fan of financial fear.  But things are uncertain at the Foundation these days so we must mentally prepare for the best and the worst that could happen.  At least I know today, right now, without a doubt, there is nothing to fear and we are well taken care of.  Your Papa is an incredible provider and father and husband, not to mention the best friend and….oh, I won’t talk about that here.

I have the best friends around me a girl could ever ask for.  I don’t know how I did it, but I have amassed a bevy of wisdom, beauty, talent, humor, intelligence, and depth coming to our baby shower next weekend that blows me away.  I am so honored and inspired by each and every woman that will be there.  It’s a celebration of baby and mom, and all things primitively feminine.  I wish your Papa could be there.  I really do.  I think he’d love to celebrate you with us.  But not all men were created like your Papa, so I opted for ladies only.

You move a lot, my little peanut.  I hope you are having fun in there.  Last night, however, you pushed into my groin in such a way that it really hurt and I had to get up and walk it out.  Please try not to do that again.  I would really appreciate it.  I do want to thank you, Pony, so much, for moving your precious little head down.  It means so much to me that you did that.  It means we can potentially have an easy safe natural birth and I really want that for us.  I want to be bright eyed when I first look at you.  I want a clear head.  I want you to feel the same when you gaze up at us, your Mama and your Papa.  I bet we’ll cry.  I wouldn’t be surprised. We don’t cry very easily, but I have a feeling this might be the time.

I gotta run now, Papa just came home and I want to squish him hard and lay in his arms. He makes all the aches and pains disappear.

I can’t wait to meet you little Ponygirl.  I am falling madly in love with you.


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