Sunday, March 29, 2009

It's the End of the World as We Know It

And I feel fine. No, really. Well, ok, maybe a little strange. Dearest and mom and I went to lunch today, and it was rather odd to have this huge… event… looming in the immediate future while watching the rest of the world go on with their normal, everyday lives. They are just pumping gas, talking about basketball, mowing their lawns. And tomorrow I am going to have major surgery that will result in the arrival of my children.

This anticipation reminds me so much of the day before the embryo transfer. It’s this huge, life-altering experience, but one that you have little to no control over. Once again, like the embryo transfer, I will be on the table under the lights taking the doctor’s word for how things are going and helplessly hoping for the best. I would be lying if I said I’m not a little concerned, but it is for the kids well-being, not mine. If I have a glitch in my recovery, at least I can understand it, but if something is wrong with one of the babies that requires intervention, there is no way to explain to them why they have been wrenched out of this warm, cozy, comfortable place into the cold bright world full of strange people poking at them. No way to tell them it’s for their own good. No way to let them know how much I love them.

So here’s hoping they emerge perfectly and can be promptly wrapped in a nice warm blanket and quietly cuddled, because the hippie in me still wants that experience for them, even though I know a natural unassisted water-birth in a dark room with a CD of whale sounds playing and patchouli scented incense burning is not exactly practical at this point. Also I don’t think I like patchouli.

Having mom here has been an enormous help, not to mention a lot of fun. I can’t imagine being any more ready for the girls’ arrival, and mom has really helped us put the last few pieces into place. It’s nice to have someone new to share the excitement with, and even though I am TOTALLY tired of being the sober one at the nightly wine fueled debates, it’s fun to have a different perspective and energy in the house. It was great last night to sit on the couch with mom on one side of me and Dearest on the other, all three of us talking to the babies and stroking the little parts that they pushed to the surface thanks to the Oreos I had eaten- here’s an elbow, what do you think that bump is? There went a foot, here are their little heads together, what do you suppose they are whispering about in there?

We decided unanimously at dinner tonight that tomorrow morning at 9:30 (I have to get to the hospital at 10) I will dramatically holler, “Honey, it’s time!” and then Dan will run down the stairs with no pants on, back over the garbage cans with the van, and drive halfway to the hospital without me. Just because we have not really had one ounce of spontaneity in this whole experience, and it seems like the thing to do. Although I guess the fact that we planned it also makes it non-spontaneous. Dammit.

So anyway, good Lord willin’ and the creek don’t rise, tomorrow’s the day. A million thanks to everyone who have been a help and a support to Dearest and I on this journey. We love you and we’ll see you on the flip side. I’ll leave you with what I wrote for the first page of my pregnancy scrapbook:

I have not seen you yet. I do not know if your eyes are hazel like mine, or deep velvet brown like your fathers. I have not sniffed your head, buried my face in your sweet baby softness, or heard you laugh. I do not know what your favorite color is, whether you are a night owl or a morning person, what you will choose as a major in college. But I do know you. I have sung to you. I have protected and taken care of you the best way I know how. I’ve studied your movements in me, and I have stared for hours at your bony visages on the ultrasound pictures, trying to imagine the kind of babies you will be and the adults you will become. We have given you life, in the most literal sense of the word, but know that your very existence has given us life too. I look forward to growing, exploring, and sharing with you all this amazing world has to offer. Thank you for the joy you have brought me. I only hope that I am able to return the favor.
Love,
Mom

2 comments:

bella1021 said...

YEAH!!! I hope that dearest doesn't forget you tomorrow! at least you'll have mom there as a back up- good thinking!! Have a great day tomorrow! I will be thinking of you and praying for a peaceful delivery....

gd said...

I missed this post yesterday, dagnabbit, but it's beautiful...

1. Patchouli, ew. Baked Bread incense? Yes.

2. Love the image of you on the couch with A&D on either side poking at you...

3. Your 'spontaneous' dash for the hospital made me laugh (even if it's delayed by a couple days. Still funny.)

4. Made me misty again with that scrapbook entry. These girls are lucky to have such an eloquent mama. :)