This first picture is me with Lucy at 35 weeks. I am in the middle. The other picture is me now at 31 weeks. So strange, the differences in the way each pregnancy carries. Apparently Asher didn't think I needed a head in that shot.
I have been thinking alot about my fears surrounding this pregnancy, and the base one is that if something were to go wrong, people would all look at me, be watching me, and I'd have this tremendous pressure from people to "perform" or to "find some hope in it" or some other such nonsense. I am realizing that the majority of my anxieties are driven around the need to please other people, or the need for other people to see that I am doing OK.
I don't even know if this makes sense, but I need to write this down. I need to acknowledge that, no matter what happens in my life, I am strong enough to handle whatever comes my way, with the help of God. I don't need to live each day on pins and needles, waiting for the horrible to happen. I can relax, enjoy what God has for me, and let others' expectations fall to the wayside...or, at least, what my perception of others' expectations of me is.
I know that on this blog I open myself up to alot of criticism and opinions. That's just a part of having a blog. I enjoy being able to get my voice out there, even if it is on a very limited basis. That's fine with me. As a human, it's just nice to be heard.
What's not nice is the feeling I have that everyone is watching, waiting for something to go wrong, waiting for me to be on my back again, struggling to make sense of something. When you've lived the past 3 years going from one crisis to the next, it's hard NOT to be in crisis mode.
I just don't know what to do with it, but I am grateful for it.
I don't know how to explain it any better than that.
I've been so worried about whether or not I should go on this Colorado trip, whether or not I should have an early (39 weeks) c-section or wait it out and try a VBAC, whether or not I should do the weekly testing at the perinatologists'. But again, at the end of the day, none of this is up to me.
It's parts terrifying, and parts freeing. It's hard to rest there, but I know I must. As a good friend pointed out, this baby girl's days are numbered, and I can rest in that knowledge. God knows, I don't. It's so easy for us to think we have the plan down, isn't it?
I am working on getting through the days, enjoying feeling her move, taking care of the three other little munchkins who need lots of care and attention.
I guess I just needed to write it out there...how much I seek others' approval, how much I fear their rejection (even to the point of thinking, "If something goes wrong, I will lose my friends, they are tired of my sorrow.")
What a dumb lie, straight from the evil one himself.
So, there you have it.
I'm working on living life a day at a time, just like everyone else does, and taking each day for what it's worth. Pregnancy is, without a doubt, the hardest time for me.
8 more weeks seems like an eternity, but...
I suppose Rome wasn't built in a day.