That's exactly the amount of time that my son Oliver has been in this world. A little over nine months... It's also the amount of time that I carried him. 40 weeks and four days. I waited 284 days to write about my experience in pregnancy and beyond. Here is my story.
It was a cold night in December. A full moon plus a few days give or take. My breasts ached. I was ravenous. I ate TWO full dinners. My cycle, which usually lines up with the full moon, was late. I know my body so well. I knew that I was pregnant.
I rushed to the nearest grocery store and purchased a couple tests, and there it was, the cross. Two lines. I was right- I had a little baby growing inside of me!
I turned to my husband, Joe, and felt tears welling up inside of me. We embraced. This was it! It was really happening. I didn't know how to feel. It felt so out of this world...
Within minutes, Joe hopped on the phone with our BFF/realtor, Anie. We needed to get out of our secondhand smoked, moldy apartment in Ballard. Not exactly ideal conditions to grow a baby in.
Within a week, we found our dream house in West Seattle. I prayed and prayed, and we got it! New baby, new house... so many changes. It was all happening so fast. It turns out the sellers were pregnant, too. I guess my personal letter worked like a charm.
We went from a 700 square foot dingy old apartment to a pristine 1900 square foot townhouse. It was the first home I would ever own. There was some major adulting going on.
The first trimester was rough. Headaches all the time and tired A.F. but at least I had my yoga practice. Moving while pregnant was even rougher. Thankfully, I know a few strong peeps in my industry. They saved the day and earned their Thai food, while I sat in awe looking at all the crap we have accumulated. Apparently, I was holding onto a lot of junk in my storage unit. Yikes.
As the weeks went on, people kept asking me how I felt, commenting on my size, asking about baby names, etc... Most people seemed to be more excited than I was. It's not that I wasn't excited, I was. It's just that I didn't really feel like it was happening. I didn't feel a connection to my baby like I always thought I would. I assumed since I was so in tune with my body that I would feel this strong bond with my baby, but nothing.
I experienced a little sadness and guilt. I felt guilty for not having this connection. I was told by books and science and random people to talk to my baby, to play Mozart for him, and read him books. Why did all this stuff feel so forced to me?
I did sing to him in the bath tub a few times. I took lots of baths. I heard everyone tell me that I would have very little time to myself, so "enjoy this time now while you can!" And did I ever. I also yoga'd a lot. I OM'd. I prayed. I was scared shitless.
I was scared to lose myself.
I had spent so many years getting to know myself, building a business and I was rocking it. And now, what? It seems I wasn't ready, but there never is a perfect time or never a more perfect time? Or something like that. Whatever. I was having this baby. And I had to create this new identity as a mom. One more role to add onto the list. I was already a yoga teacher, a wife, a daughter, a step sister, a personal trainer... How was I supposed to be all of those things and be an amazing mom? It all seemed defeating to me.
By the end of the second trimester, I could barely touch my toes. Yoga was really starting to suck for me. Moving in general felt awkward. I was constantly in pain, but would never tell anyone about it. I had horrible insomnia, and would wake up every morning at 4am with dance music at full blast in my brain. I felt like I was being torn apart in my hips. Not to mention IT WAS ONE OF THE HOTTEST SUMMERS ON RECORD IN SEATTLE. Being nine months pregnant in 90+ degrees temps was no bueno. I also taught hot yoga. Ay ay ay.
Long story short, being pregnant was not fun for me and I didn't really enjoy it. I'm sorry.
Fast forward to my "due date" (since being pregnant is like turning in homework assignments?): August 12, 2015: I am so antsy. It's hotter than shit. I hate everyone. I am so "un-yoga like." I've pulled out all the stops to get Mr. Oliver out: my Dad's famous Eggplant Parm recipe, acupuncture, massage in *ahem,* weird places, long walks (more like waddles), meditations, salsa dancing (if you only saw this!!!),
My midwives tell me he is facing the wrong way, as in a "stargazer." Of course, I got a stargazer. So, I went to this special chiropractor and did all these special things to get him to be an earth gazer or something. Not an ideal position. Lots of back pain. Please, get in the right place, baby! Please!
August 15th, 4am:
Here we go...
TO BE CONTINUED...