I’m so not a crier. I mean, I’m British, and that means I have a stone cold heart that’s full of sarcasm and cynicism and British humour.
Well, it turns out that B, the little human I’m currently gestating, is a crier. (This does not bode well for my sleep patterns for the next 18ish years.) Or at least, something about gestating B has turned me into a blubbering mess.
Some examples of why I’ve cried. Note that my eyes were completely dry during numerous funerals, any number of cute kid videos and years and years of learning how to be British at school (stiff upper lip, don’t tell, it’s character building, etc).
- My friend’s dog had to be put down (the inspiration for us getting Dog). He was 10 years old and the best dog. I was writing a condolence card with the story about the rainbow bridge and I ended up crying in the office.
- Then when I told T about crying he said, “What’s the rainbow bridge story?” and I started crying whilst I was telling him. I couldn’t even describe it without crying. We were walking Dog at the time. (Fortunately I don’t think Dog understood the story and was busy sniffing someone else’s wee or something.)
- Reading birth stories in the Ina May book. I mean they’re completely hippy dippy but for some reason I’ve turned into an emotional blancmange.
- We went to an expectant parents’ evening at Mothercare (baby shop in the UK) and they had some first aid demos and the lady did a demo on how to stop a baby choking (my suggestion) and she showed how to do that with a baby doll that didn’t even really look like a baby, and then I couldn’t watch any more because I felt so emotional. And then I turned to T and started crying because I said I didn’t want to think about B choking! What have I turned into?!
- I randomly read the poem on some baby shower page about loving your baby forever – I’ll love you forever / I’ll like you for always / As long as I’m living / My baby you’ll be. And then I looked up where it came from and there was a story about the author explaining the origins of the book (which I never had… I guess it’s an American thing). The author Robert Munsch explains that he wrote it because he had two children born dead. Well I just lost it. In the office. Luckily I was in a conference room on my lunch break! Like actual tears running down my face crying.
I guess maybe that pregnancy makes you hormonal. I’m really not a crier usually! And the other thing is I think it is the circumstance, like thinking about how hopeless everything felt this time last year (although we had a wonderful holiday to America and Disney World) and how crazy it feels to be in this position now with this big growing belly this year, and how I still don’t fully believe it.
And also all these feelings about being adopted and thinking about my birth mother going through this and wondering how she felt. If she read that poem, is that how she’d think of me? It just brings up a lot of feels about how I’ve never met my birth parents and how my first mother must have felt after giving birth to me and then having to give me away.
Also, and this sounds nuts but I feel emotional about Dog. I can’t imagine loving B more than I love him, because I love him so much, and part of me is really scared that either I won’t love B enough or I’ll love him too much and Dog will feel sad. I bet that sounds silly but my first loyalty is to Dog… He didn’t choose to be adopted by us and I owe it to him not to drop the ball on caring for him. I feel really strongly about that and it mortifies me to think I might be one of those people who neglect their pet when they have a baby. He really is my first baby.
Anyway, this isn’t meant to be depressing because I don’t feel depressed at all. I guess I just feel emotionally charged. And optimistic! I can’t quite believe that this is all happening and if everything goes according to plan I’ll be somehow giving independent life to the wriggler in my tummy in the new year. That the kicks I feel are going to turn into an actual human.
It’s Autumn (fall!) in England now and everything has gone dark and chilly and I actually love it, because it makes me feel like Christmas is coming and that’s my favourite time of year. I always thought I was a summer person (when I was young and carefree and didn’t need a boulder holder to scaffold up my boobs) but lately I’ve just preferred Autumn. As long as it’s dry chill it’s great. Our flat is boiling so it feels cosy and actually bearable after the heat of the summer, and I’m looking forward to Christmas jumpers and my Christmas themed baby shower and enjoying this last bit of 2016 before the big 2017!
Bumpies… Past few weeks.