My dad: "Have you bought yourself a massage yet?"
Me: "No. There is too much else to spend money on. Besides, they are over too quickly."
I have a love/hate relationship with massage. This relationship is indicative of my personality as a whole. Whenever I am on the table about to start a 60, 90, or even 120 minute massage, I get consumed with the thought that it will be over soon. Even though I am paying serious bucks to enjoy my muscles being worked into submission, my brain takes over and knows that soon it will be done and disappointment sets in. It's almost like I feel the minutes tick by, and therefore the relaxation piece is diminished. This begs the question, what's the point? Why spend the money? Why can't I just enjoy the moment, and focus on the glorious feeling as it happens? Because I get in my own way, once again.
I have had several moments of feeling this way about the pregnancy. I am 30 weeks on Tuesday. 30 weeks already, and I'm kind of sad about it. Even though the whole idea of getting pregnant is to have a healthy baby in my arms at the end, I can't help but feel some sense of loss that the pregnancy itself will soon be over. Granted, I have had it easy: no complications and really very few unpleasant effects. This kid made it easy to enjoy every second. I'm sure that would be different if I had felt ill, been in pain, or had scary events take place that made me end up on bed rest and such. But, none of that happened and therefore I don't want it to end.
I keep getting into a somewhat negative head space that I'm trying to work through. The pace of this fall hasn't helped matters. Work has been more stressful than it's ever been in all my years of teaching. Days blend together, linked by school events: field trips, progress reports, class play, and next week's conferences. Plus, in the last two months, I've flown to Los Angeles twice for my first baby shower and a wedding. Already, we are near Halloween and I've barely had time to breathe, let alone blog, reflect, take belly shots, or do any nursery preparation. Many days, after working for 10 hours or more (anyone who calls teachers lazy is ignorant), I realize I haven't had time to think about the baby once. Then, I stare at our to-do list (like meeting 2 pediatricians next week and getting our carpet cleaned) and know that somehow we have to get these things done, yet as we check each thing off the list, The Nugget is that much closer to being outside of me. I had a vivid dream about how it would feel to no longer be pregnant, and I woke up nearly in tears. How could this all have gone by so quickly?
I just get angry at how my brain works. Why can't I just be happy and focus on the now? Why do I let my anxiety and psyche take over, eclipsing the joy in the moment? Why can't I just enjoy the massage, without anticipating its end? I don't think I'll ever really understand this part of my personality, but I sure wish I could make it stop.
I keep trying to tell myself that the next step will feel as special as
having him in my belly. That although I won't feel his kicks during
a stressful workday, I'll get to hug and kiss him. Even though KG won't
rub my belly and look at me like I'm the prettiest pregnant woman on
earth, he'll see me as a pretty hot mom. Even though we won't have these
quiet moments just the two of us, three will make it even better. Anything to make it seem like I haven't wasted these precious moments, which may or may not ever happen again.
After all, as an infertile, we don't take these things for granted. I am grateful every day for where I am, and know how easily it could have gone another way. We could still be waiting for a BFP. I could still be stuck in treatment hell. We could have given up altogether by now, and chosen to be child free. But instead, we were blessed and have managed to get to the third trimester. We just spent so much time and effort to get to this point, I would hate to think I let it pass me by in the blink of an eye. I just don't know how to slow the clock.
I put the latest ultrasound pic up on The Nugget's page, along with an infant pic of KG. Check out the resemblance. It's uncanny.