An End of 2nd Trimester Rant

In 3 days I will have finished my 2nd trimester. And for the past few weeks, I have been feeling a slight decline in my energy levels and quite the increase in my moodiness levels. Especially when those old ladies at church just don't know when to keep their mouths shut.

Like yesterday - I got asked again if I was carrying twins. "No. I'm not." And the lady next to her: "And you're even tall." As if THAT'S supposed to help???

"Not tall enough, I guess..." I responded sharply.

I was ok up to that point, really I was, but this next one really got to me. It's all lovey-dovey, pat-pat, "how ya doin' sweetie?" Until the dreaded question:
"So when's this baby coming?"

"May."

"May?!?! You look like you're DUE!"


My mouth literally droooooopppppeeedd in her face. Right in her face, there were my tonsils and teeth and tongue and heck, probably my stomach - but she was oblivious. "I guess I'll stop asking - you've got a LONG way to go still."
(And this is when I wish I could be like my friend Collette and tell her what I honestly think of a comment like that rather than just politely laughing when I don't find it funny at all.)

Yes. Thank you. Please DO stop asking. You and the rest of them who must have forgotten what it feels like to be pregnant because it's just been to dang long for you all.

And then I get all cranky and go deep into my thoughts and I cry for my present "woes" (yes, I realize how pathetic I sound).
I will never ever ever be the same Meghan again.
Good bye to the Meghan in college, Good bye to the Meghan I've spent the last 22 years becoming because it's alll going to change in 3 short measly little months.

Will I ever not feel tired again for the rest of my life?

I am ending a significant phase right now - everything I have ever known about what it means to be me is ending. It's the closing of an entire book of my life, not just a chapter. And, sometimes, just for a moment, it's kind of sad to realize that. And sometimes, like yesterday after church, I think to myself : "I really don't like being pregnant." NOT that I don't like or want to have this baby in me, because I know that's what it sounds like, but that pregnancy is not so fun sometimes. See the differenJce?
Gasp! Terrible, I know.
But seriously, that first trimester? Yeah, it totally sucked. And I wasn't even that sick. But it was icky. For three months straight. And then, sure, I got a perky 8 weeks in there, and boy did I enjoy them, but now I'm just back to being sore every morning I wake up - like I ran a marathon in my sleep or something! -  and getting chided by strangers who feel they know how my body should be looking right now, and being tired and lacking motivation.

And then other times I go even deeper into this emotional brain of mine, and I cry for the pains I know will come in the future:
My heart will never be the same again. It will be ripped out of my chest, torn into several different pieces, and thumb-tacked onto the forehead of each of my children. It will be stretched to its limit, and it will beat stronger with every kiss and hug and smile - but it will never go back into this body. It will always be walking around with my children, from here on out. I realize that. And sometimes I look around me when I'm in public, and I see all these people out there, just living their own lives. And I wonder how often they think of their mothers? Are they close to them? Do they miss them? Do they love them? Most likely their mothers were just like I am now -- totally in love with the little human dancing in them, reveling in each and every movement, altering their entire lives for the well-being of their baby. But I realize as I look at all these strangers - and even myself- that this baby is not mine to keep. He will not always need me the way he does now. He might even hate me during his teenage years and then I'll be replaced with a wife and that will just be life and I'll be happy for him but sometimes I already get sad thinking about it. And all I can do is cross my fingers and pray he will still kiss me when he sees me - no matter how old he or I get. 

.....I know. I know. There are women who would give anything to be in my place right now. And I know how very blessed I am to be carrying this baby, and if I could give every willing woman the desire of her heart to carry their own, too, I would. I definitely would. Because that's not even what this about. I would stay pregnant forever if it meant having this baby. Because it's a privilege and it's special --- but it's also hard. And I think I am allowed to have and share these feelings without getting bombarded with talk of ingratitude or selfishness.

And yes, I will wrap up this rant with my revelation - to end on a good note, the one that keeps me going through it all, the one that wanted me to be in this situation in the first place.

Sometimes, when it's late at night and I'm trying to wedge a pillow under my belly so it won't rip off my back in the middle of the night, and I'm still appalled at the things people think they can get away with, I feel a heavy kick in my stomach. And I stop what I'm doing and put my hand on my belly. And he kicks again - "Hey Mom, don't worry bout them fools. It's just you and me, baby. That's all that matters."
And I hear a voice in my head:
It was never about them anyway.


It never was, and it never will be, about anyone else but me, this baby boy, and the man that helped me create him. And when I stop and feel and listen for that, I always get a smile on my face and the rest of the world around me silences down to a pin drop, and I can almost hear the thundering of this baby's heartbeat tuning everything else out. And he responds to my peace with a few more nudges, letting me know he's in there --

And he's worth it.

For now, he is mine - ours - our son. And that more than makes up for any of these silly little pregnancy heartaches I get.