Saturday, February 28, 2009

Sissies.

When the president gets sworn in, the media watches his first 100 days like a hawk. They have constant updates on FoxNews & CNN about what he said to whom, who he ate lunch with, and how he is handling the new pressure. "They" claim that the first 100 days in office represent what the next 3 years and 265 days will be like for him as President and we as citizens.

I am on my last 100 days of pregnancy. Today marks 100 days until my very vague, but extremely accurate due date. 100 days left. Sweet. Please do not get me wrong. I love being pregnant because I am looking forward to the end result, but this last week has been really, really hard. I have not slept in three days, been unfun sick, and the scariest of scary things-- I had braxton hicks on Friday for the first time. LMC is not ready to leap into her third trimester en utero as I am.

I think about this sign I bought when I lived in Milledgeville. This store was going out of business & there was a cool picture of very colorful swirlies in the middle. At the bottom, I read, "Milledgeville is no place for sissies." And I believed it-- it was hard living away from my friends in Athens & my family in Augusta. So, without another thought, I put it in my hands and proudly walked to the counter, knowing that someone out there knew what I was going through & were so creative, they painted a small picture with words I could live by.

I was not a sissy. I could do this.

Days later, I am showing off my new purchase and they read it out loud, "Middle Age is No Place For Sissies."

Middle age?! WHAT? No!!! It had to be Milledgeville-- because I needed someone out there to know that I was not a sissy. Those cool swirlies in the middle... upon closer inspection, they were bifocal reading glasses on a chain. And I was still a sissy.

Or was I?

Husband is post call today. He took care of the PICU last night and is currently napping beside me as I type. Tomorrow he is back on call, taking care of the NICU and the teeniest of tiny babies that need healing. Monday, he is post call again... and then Tuesday it's a normal day at the sunshine factory.

Eileen will be 26 weeks on Monday; sparking the beginning of the end. She kicks up a storm now and is a very active UBB (uterus bound baby). Somehow the experts know that she has brain waves developing this week to process sound & light. Her eyeballs (Okay, you medical junkies: her retinas) are putting on their last layers, even though her eyes are still sealed shut. LMC can recognize my voice, as well as Husbands (and probably Ange & Woo's, too). She responds to our voices by moving towards them and knocking something against her fishbowl. It's pretty cool. She also responds to touch. She loves it.

But, you know what I really appreciate? And I am not kidding-- I really appreciate it when someone asks before they touch my stomach. Of course I will say yes, but I just appreciate being asked. And I feel more comfortable when a woman touches my stomach, as if they have been there before or they will be there in the future. It is really sweet to see the whimsical look in their eyes as they recount something about their pregnancy or the hopeful look when someone talks about when they will have kids.

At some point, I will share my war stories like a badge of courage, honor and the proof that I was not-- and am not-- a sissy.

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