The Countdown

I am as big as a house now. Well into the 200’s, I am seeing numbers that my High School self would have shuddered at the mere though of. People are less than tactful, and my formerly broad shoulders seem to be getting narrower and narrower as each comment chips away at my self-esteem. “Oh, you must be due any day now!” (at 30 weeks), “Oh, are you having twins” or “Are you sure there’s only one baby in there?” (at 33 weeks), “Wow, you must be ready to pop!” (at 35 weeks) “I really don’t think you need that roll” (From my mother). And the worst, “Hey Chubs”, compliments of my brothers, father, and my loving husband. Admittedly, I had put on weight I didn’t need, and my face had doubled its size. It was July now, and I was days away from my due date. My ankles were so swollen that people cringed to look at them, my butt measurements easily rivaled my waist measurements, and still my hands found foods, which found my mouth. I was powerless against rich foods, salami, chocolate, tuna, and peanut butter. Ty played his part by bringing me home desserts from business meetings. I would groan in despair at the lusciousness of tall chocolate cakes covered in chocolate chips that he brought home, yet growl at him if he came near it with his own fork. My only salvation was that my due date was approaching, and I was about to shed a good 15 pounds pretty quickly.

My emotions were running haywire as well. There were days when I would cry with anticipation of our son or daughter, and other days that would find my curled up into a nervous ball of worry wondering how we would ever manage to raise a child. We were the most selfish people I knew, how would there ever be room for another being in our lives? Futhermore, what if we messed this up? What if we raised a drug addict or worse? What if our child denied God some day? I was not nonchalant towards the issues, I knew we were being given something huge, and it terrified me.

Yet, when I closed my eyes, I could see the back of my child’s head as he or she slept, the way the his or her hair rested on their neck, and the gentle rising of their back. I could see tiny fingers wrapped around my larger ones, and blue eyes searching my brown ones. I could hear coos and gurgles of laughter, I could hear my child saying my name, “Mommy”, I could hear cries for hunger, cries for attention, cries from a good spanking, well-deserved. I could feel my child suckling at my breast, all of me pouring into this life, nourishing this baby. My Mom drew an outline of the baby on my belly so we could see how big he or she was getting. We listened to our baby's heartbeat and imagined future lectures. My impatience for the birth day grew, and when July 20^th, my due date, came and went, my anticipation heightened.