December 12, 2010

the pregnancy

This, officially, is the last day that I can say "this time last year I was pregnant with Georgia".  I understand that this probably means very little to almost everyone, but still there's something about this anniversary that pulls at my heart strings.



Everything, and I mean everything, about my pregnancy was shocking initially.  When that all-knowing urination wand said YES I was terrified.  Scarier than telling friends or family, scarier than becoming a mom, scarier than anything else was the thought of childbirth.  “Fetus,” I says, “I don’t know how you plan to make your great escape, but let me tell you - it won’t be the traditional way.”  


Quite honesty, in the beginning I was all for drugs and C-sections – hell, I would have opted for that twilight sleep thing just so I wouldn’t remember any of it.  But eventually the longer I was pregnant the less afraid I was of the whole birthing experience.  Then, after watching The Business of Being Born one evening, I began to seriously consider having a home birth.  In the beginning this idea/thought/desire was heavily influenced by the decisions of the new moms in my life.  But the more and more I thought about it the more I was certain that I didn’t want to deliver my baby at the hospital.  I wanted to sit in my tub.  I wanted to scream into my pillow.  And by golly, if I was going to poop I wanted to poop on my own floor.  It was settled; I was going to do this thing in my home apartment (sorry neighbours*).

 
The most exciting day of the pregnancy was undoubtedly the day I found out I was having a girl.  Whenever I’ve picture having children I’ve always, always, always imagined having a daughter first. As soon as I found out I was pregnant I naturally assumed I would make a boy.  I spent months trying to prepare myself for a son.  So when the day of the ultrasound came and the doctor referred to the mystery baby as a ‘her’ it felt like a punch in the face.  A happy punch.  Oh come on, you know happy punches!  What?  Don't tell me that’s only my family?


It’s funny.  I didn’t particularly enjoy pregnancy.  I often resented the total takeover of my body and life.  It’s not that I wasn’t excited about the impending motherhood.  It’s just that, at the time, I would have preferred to have skipped the whole gestation process.  But now when I think back on it I get kind of starry-eyed.  I wish I had enjoyed it a little more.  It was kind of a magical period of my life.  Of course, I suspect that this nostalgia is simply the work of baby crazy chemicals floating around my brains. 

Tomorrow morning I'll be back to tell my birth story for the first time.  So if you were wanting to get out of "the talk" with the kids just send them my way and I'll tell them all about where babies come from out of.

*Sorry, but not really sorry.  Believe me, I was suffering way more than y'all.  But still, I'll offer an apology because I'm Canadian like that. 

PS
All photos taken by the very talented Des of So Fawned.


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