Pregnancy reflections trump ruffled feathers

I am bristling at someone’s churlish behavior toward me tonight and trying to let it go…let it go…let it go. (deeeeeep breath) “Churlish” was the best antonym I could come up with for “gracious.” I admire graciousness in a person. I disdain its opposite, whether directed toward me or others. What causes a person to behave tactlessly? Insecurity? Ignorance? Arrogance? Jerkiness? (Let it go…let it go…let it go…)

What I was going to write about—no, what I am going to write about—is a few observations about my pregnant state of being:

1) The baby moves around a lot. I seem to notice it more during this pregnancy than I did during the previous 3. I think maybe it’s because: a) I think this will be my last pregnancy, or b) This pregnancy took me somewhat by surprise. (Festival Note: I saw a book there, Surprise Child, that I’d like to read in the next few months.)

While I am very conscious of the baby’s movements, no one else seems to be—at least, not yet. Will sometimes holds his hand over my abdomen, hoping to feel the movements. But so far he’s only experienced a few “Oh, I think maybe I just felt something” moments with this baby. S/he seems un-inclined to “perform” on demand.

As I feel the baby moving inside me, I realize this is something that cannot be captured on film or audio file. Part of my packrat problem is that I feel driven to catalogue my life, for myself and for future generations. When it comes to throwing away fifth grade essays I wrote, for example, I think: “No, because someday my great-grandchildren might want to see how talented a 10-year-old I was.” So I save stuff—too much stuff. But this baby movement sensation is something I can only experience—and treasure in my heart.

2) I am about to enter my third trimester. (It officially starts at 28 weeks—12 days from now, but who’s counting?) In the past week or so, my body is reverting to first-trimester nap needs. As in, “I must get some sleep—30 minutes minimum—sometime between 3 and 6 p.m. Or else I might die.” The physiological demand is that strong. So I do my best to accommodate the urge. And when I can’t, I’m practically passing out by 7:30.

I am obviously pregnant to everyone I meet these days. There seems to be no question about the source of my added girth. Which is somewhat of a relief because for the few months leading up to now, I got the impression that some people thought I’d simply gorged myself on cookies all winter long. Not true. I only did that the first month of this pregnancy, before I even knew about this pregnancy. Thus, while the midwife’s office thinks I have put on just 18 pounds so far, I know it’s more like 28. Oh, well. Why should I think I’ll get by gaining less than 50 this time?

3) I am grateful to be sleeping well, still—7-9 hours a night, no problem. Usually only one bathroom break, and I’m able to fall back asleep right away. I am grateful that my bladder will allow me this much, because I know by the end I will be up at least once every other hour, as body, mind and soul prepare for the frequent feedings required by the small wriggly creature soon to effect a huge ripple in the peaceful pond that is our collective lives.