Better Spirits

So I'm pregnant. That's what I said two nights ago when I turned to my husband whilst I was eating a bowl of canned peaches in bed. I know I've been saying that for a while, but I think it's finally starting to sink in. My dreams are steeped in babies, my stomach needs a constant intake of only the freshest of foods (fried stuff makes me throw up - go figure), and daily I sense small seizures beneath my belly button.

I have worries and concerns. I'm trying to stay away from worrying about the stuff over which I have no control (Genetic abnormalities, whether or not my body will go the distance to grow the full 10 fingers and toes, etc.), but other worries leak in.

My weekend consisted of feverish felt cutting. I'm a woman possessed. It's as though I'm trying to make up for those months of non-crafting. Without exaggeration, I have 50+ pairs of baby booties cut out with another 20 or so to go. I will be making a pair of baby booties with every single trim and cutesy ribbon I own. I have a plan.

I won't be able to do this after I give birth.

... right?

I'll be sucked dry of the will to do anything other than cater to the needs of a tiny screaming dictator.

... right?

I mean, after all - My mother, who I think did a very good job, was so tired after caring for me day after day as an infant that she washed 12 pairs of hard contact lenses down the sink after forgetting whether she was taking them out or putting them in. Then there was the time she stuck me with a safety pin whilst changing my diaper during church (I now have a freckle there). Not to mention the fact that she still feels guilty about dropping me. Upon bending down to get out a new diaper and diapering essentials from below the changing table, I rolled off the changing pad, onto her back, and fell to the floor. Now, I don't wear contacts currently, I'll be using disposable diapers and changing pads come with straps these days... so now I'm faced with all the unknown ways I'll zone out and mess up under the strain of motherhood - there have to be millions of possibilities.

... right?

It's not even like infants have any choice but to be crazy-demanding. It's hardwired. It's genetic. It's evolution. The more demanding an infant is, the more likely it is that they'll get the attention of their parents and KEEP the attention of their parents. This was key in survival. So the noisier, sleepless babies won. Awesome.

Yesterday, Greg drew a bubble bath for me and then read "American Gods" by Neil Gaiman to me while I luxuriated and shaved my legs for the first time in for-ev-er (Don't worry, the water wasn't hot-hot, I don't want to cook the baby or anything). And then he washed my hair for me and wrapped me in 4 towels and helped me into bed. And then he surprised me with expensive pregnant belly moisturizer that smells AMAZING and soaks into your skin IMMEDIATELY (not greasy or sticky at all!) and capped off the evening so perfectly I fell asleep before he'd even considered opening the book again. (As A Note: Greg reads me to sleep every night. It's from books I've already read that he's reading, or books that I've read further than he has so far. It's incredibly sweet)

And the birth of our baby will mean the end to these lazy, intimate moments.

... right?

I mentioned dreams before... And I wasn't kidding. Nightly I dream of babies. I dreamt I gave birth to a toddler. He had a full head of hair and a full set of teeth and all I could think was that I was sad I had missed out on the infant stage. I've had many dreams about twins. I dream one twin is a great eater, and the other won't breastfeed! Last night I dreamt that during our ultrasound we found out it's a boy and went home with a photo of the ultrasound -- a perfect silhouette of a baby with a little tiny penis. "Mama's Intuition" is still telling me it's a girl. But in the dream world, boys and twins abound. 3 more weeks till we find out.

In the mean time, I'm working on these booties and attempting to shut everything else out. Photos of the madness to come soon. Hope all is well with you.