The bed rest looms and seems to stretch into infinity. It truly is a strange feeling because the bed rest seems endless. The pregnancy seems endless even as I am acutely aware the end is approaching. I can feel my body gearing up for the birth of my sweet boy. My back has begun to ache. My right leg feels as if it has been dislodged from its socket. My pelvis...well lets just say if one considered doing the splits over a crate of dynamite this 4th of July, I advise against it. Strangely...or perhaps not so strangely, there is a twinge of sorrow that accompanies this new, approaching reality. Even considering the months and months and months of endless nausea and vomiting. Even considering the weeks and weeks of bed rest as I laid as still as possible praying this little boy would not be born, praying our little boy would have his best chance at life, there is something of a sadness in the coming change. Up until now, he has been mine...all mine. I have been the one who has cared for him, my body has been the one that has fed him and cradled him and sheltered him. He hears my voice echoing in his ears and my hands rubbing against his sweet little body. For months and months and months, this little boy has been mine and when he is born, I have to share him with the world.
That is not to say that I will not be glad to share him. That is not to say that I will not be glad to hold him close and touch him and watch his daddy hold him close.
It is only to say, things are changing. It is only to say, I love you baby boy and I will see you on the other side.
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