Truth

35.4 weeks pregnant.

 

My hormones are happily flying all around my head.

 

It's like they're not even a part of me any more, like they have a mind and will of their own.

 

Swirling around my head. Buzzing and whirring.

 

I've gone into complete end of pregnancy mode.

 

Some days I have the energy of a raging bull and I scrub and clean and nest and feel on top of the world.

 

Other days I feel fat and heavy and tired and I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep because all my energy is gone.

 

Yesterday Boy woke up with a sniffle which started running and gained momentum later in the evening.

 

The arm smearing and sniffing and grumpiness began and continued through the entire night, a little vomiting at 11pm just adding to the nightmare.

 

So one person in our house feels like their eyes will fall out of their head today from tiredness and the other is hyperactive from lack of sleep, and continuing to smear mucus all over the house.

 

( N.B: I'm the tired one. )

 

So we cancelled plans and I did what any good - tired, heavily pregnant mother of a sick three year old would do...

 

I put ABC kids on the T.V.

 

It's been on ALL day.

 

I hate the T.V on so many levels, I hate watching kids shows.

 

But it is the absolute best on days like today.

 

We always need more than one coping mechanism in our arsenal, and I thank the person who invented the T.V on days like today.

 

Even more. I thank the person who came up with the idea of having just a children's channel on free to air T.V

 

Boy thinks it's the best treat to sit and watch T.V because he's never allowed.

 

He's quiet, he's in the one spot.

 

He's not making any mess.

 

Thankyou. Thankyou.

 

Tired pregnant women all over Australia with sick pre-schoolers adore you ABC kids.

 

 

04.02

I suppose I should feel a certain way today.

Sometimes I will it, like if I don't feel reflective or grief stricken or anything on the twelfth anniversary of Dads passing I am a failure.

After twelve years I could almost miss this day completely.

I don't look to it, I don't remember it.

It has become just another day.

February has become just another month.

I suppose that my grief has changed a little over the last twelve years- that it has morphed from the constant thought and missing.

From everything constantly reminding me he's gone.

The first day of school without him, the first Easter without him, the first Christmas without him.

From the constant dull ache in the back of my chest.

The hole so deep it never seemed to have a bottom.

Into this. Into this ... Third dimension.

The third dimension of grief.

How did I get here?

How did I go from anger and sorrow to this.. this calm.

I almost feel like he's never left - like I imagine him in all the places he should've been over the last twelve years.

My memories filled not with loss, but with his presence.

Quietly reclining in the corner, his belly, his beard, his scruffy white hair - all there, just as they should've been.

The silent watcher.

I see him sitting on the yellow mustard leather chair, his feet raised on the velour blue pouffe he bought for Mum one Christmas, it's shape deflated with use.

His elbows resting on the dark wood arms where the lacquer is worn thin from years of elbow resting.

His chest softly rising and falling as his breathing slows and he nods off into slumber.

The sound of his breathing deepening as he falls further into sleep.

And it's as if nothing has ever changed.

Like he's always been there, and I just missed him because I was too loud or too distracted, but he was there. He was always there.

Quietly listening.

His presence alone, encouragement enough.

I just wish I'd seen. I just wish I'd known.

To stop.

To listen.

To feel.

So I might not have missed seeing him.

So I might've snatched a moment.

To say:

 

I love you.

 

33 + 3

There's a little growing baby in there.

It must be getting squished because she's dropped twice, a little - then a little more last Saturday.

Her head is now firmly stuck in my groin and I've got the pregnant waddles.

But it means she's got a little more room to stretch her legs, and I've got more room to breathe - good thinking Baby Girl!

Boy didn't drop until a week before he was born, I also didn't get any Braxton Hicks with him but baby girl has been testing my annoying period/back pain tightening patience with a few every day just to keep me on my toes.

Girls huh!

Here's hoping being a girl will mean she has a much smaller head circumference than Boy did because pushing out an above average watermelon sized head is not something I'm looking forward to experiencing again. Ever..

My birth anxiety is all ready at breaking ' what the hell was I thinking ' point.

Seriously, why would I choose to go through it again?

Lucky it only crops up in moments of clarity when I'm looking at my belly and realise there's only one way out.

High five to anyone who has given birth to any child.. And decided to go back..again and again..