So this is how it feels like to have an overhanging belly. I had mentioned to a male fren the other day that I am tired of sporting a cannonball in front of me for so long, and his reply was that he understood how I felt. I did not think he has a belly big enough to understand, but certainly it makes me think now that perhaps I understand how the men with big bellies feel!
Before, as one progresses through the pregnancy, one is just preoccupied with the wonder of the expanding belly and how far more one can possibly grow; the due date was never a question, it being a matter of fact, backed by the proven experience of scientific knowledge and the expertise of professional medical personnel. Ironically, as one approaches the due date and passes it, coupled with the physical reminder of an increasingly heavy belly, that magical due date seems to fade in power and the possibility that one may be stuck in the perpetual state of pregnancy becomes more of a reality.
At this point, the host vessel (i.e. the mother-to-be) gets increasingly moody. She starts to wonder whether she will ever be able to sleep on her back again, whether she will ever be able to freely toss and turn in her sleep without the aches and twinges of a severely tested pelvis, whether she will ever be able to read a book lying on her stomach, whether she will ever see her toes again, whether she will ever be able to reach the ringing phone fast enough before the caller gives up and hangs up. In fact, at this point, I am struggling to remember how the pre-pregnant Me looks like; the Me in my old photos looks like an unreal fantasy.
Don't get me wrong; I am not ungrateful for my growing bud. I am fully aware that there are many out there who yearn for a baby and are resorting to expensive and physically and emotionally draining fertility treatments or trying adoption programmes to get that little one. I fully appreciate the miracle of the little life coming our way and am thankful for it. And I definitely believe in the testimony of so many frens who have gone through delivery - that they feel this incredible, huge rush of love, as they meet their baby for the first time and can stare at them for eternity.
But like all other women who go overdue, patience has a limit. And the line between reality and disbelief can become fine - the longer the baby stays inside, the more it does not become a real, tangible presence. Even the allure of the luxury of sleep and personal 'Me' time loses its appeal. For surely, the earlier the delivery is done and over with, the faster bonding time and recovery can take place too.
Today, I heard that my sister's fren has had her baby induced by one day early. Apparently, the poor girl has reached her limit. Not that I am at the point of wanting induction without being offered, but while, in the past, I would have clucked in disapproval, now I no longer judge. In fact, I applaud her for knowing what she wants and taking control, for now she reaps the reward of holding her baby in her arms and having the freedom to stare at her baby for eternity. Sadly, this option is not open to me in UK; here, you are only offered manual induction (a sweep) if you are one week overdue and induction by drugs if you are overdue by two. So, all I can do now is to tap little bumpsie now and then to check he is okay and sigh in relief when he responds with a thump here or a bout of hiccuping there.
Well, Baby, Daddy and I are ready to meet you. We know you are physically ready for the business of living outside the womb, so come soon. Our love is waiting to gush out all over you, as we anticipate locking eyes with you for the first time.
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