I've written posts about how my brain felt like it was all over the place. Like I had so many things I wanted to do before I was due. And now, that due date is the closest it has ever been.
Amazingly enough, a day that I never thought I would get to have came this past weekend. My baby shower. My own. Mine.
It was so surreal. As I walked in the door, the host of the party, a fairly new friend of mine asked me if I was going to cry. I wasn't. And I'm a crier. I was just too happy to cry and made my way around her house to appreciate every detail of the party.
I didn't want to forget a thing. From the small table by the door overflowing with favors to the fabric alphabet blocks hanging from the ceiling. Then from the big bowl of fruit punch on the counter to the cake made to look EXACTLY like the baby quilt I picked out. And then there was the clothesline filled with baby clothes and socks and hats and blankets hanging across the dining room. I didn't want to forget a single detail.
I'm not usually one to post a lot of pictures...but this cake was outrageous!
It was a very small group. I recently moved and most of of my family and friends are 7+ hours away, never mind trying to travel during this endless winter that some are experiencing. But that small group was perfect. Me, feeling especially round and bloaty, surrounded by the people who are closest to me.
This day clicked into place like so many moments of this pregnancy so far. The first time I POAS and it was positive, the first time I walked into my OB's office, the first time a food (steak) made me dry heave, our first class at the hospital, the first time I walked into a maternity store to shop for myself, the day my belly popped and I looked officially pregnant, the first time a stranger noticed and commented on my pregnancy, the first time I realized an orange makes our little guy dance in my belly and the first (of many) times I finished off a bottle of Tu.ms.
And now, at exactly 33 weeks pregnant, surrounded by the baby stuff quickly filling up every corner of our home, I feel a bit rushed. Every Saturday in February is booked with classes at the hospital. There is some well-meaning pressure from friends and family to "help" and I'm feeling a bit lost. I imagine what I am writing will not come out exactly right. Maybe it sounds like I am not grateful. I am beyond grateful. I am just a little overwhelmed.
Overwhelmed with a party that was for me, but not for me, if that makes any sense. I guess I am afraid of losing my identity when I become a mom. I wonder if that happens when you get pregnant at 34 years old instead of being much younger or if I am just being selfish.
I know that when I look back at my life, being pregnant will be an absolute highlight. I have LOVED these past 33 weeks. I'm just afraid. Afraid of how completely life is going to change. And I know...when I say that to people who have kids, they immediately launch into how life changes for the better. But, I have been me for a long time. A little lost, a little neurotic and a little goofy.
And, I don't know how to be a mommy without losing the part of me that makes me awesome.