It never amazes me how many things we have to do to prepare for the great transitions in our lives. The unknown of setting off independently as adults. The merging of lives in a marriage. The new responsibilities that come with parenthood. The quieting down and relaxation of retirement. Each one brings an utter shift of priorities, dreams, goals, and routines, something new to navigate. A whole new identity.
Some of the things we do to prepare are mundane, and some involve profound decisions. Sometimes the decision to simply make the leap (or not) is the most monumental in the whole process. There are so many details, great and small, to see to and decisions we could not anticipate having to make. Some transitions are brief and simple, or thrust upon us with little time to prepare, while others we look forward to and plan for our entire lives. Each person lives through these moments uniquely, and how much time we have to prepare is a huge influence on the experience. I'm glad that my little girl has been a long time coming. I don't like to be pressured when facing new situations. I want time and space to approach things at my own pace, weigh my options, and procrastinate if I just feel like it (sadly, I do that a little too often). It's overwhelming at times, knowing I have register for stuff for Brianna's room and make a birth plan, and explain to the questioning why I don't want this or that.
I wonder how many of the details and decisions I've made for Brianna will still feel important to me during labor or year from now, or 20 years from now when she's grown up. Will I care whether or not I managed an unmedicated birth? Which exact shade was used to paint her room? Who holds her and soothes her the first time she wakes up in the middle of the night? So many of the details from our wedding seemed important at the time, the things we had to get right or risk not having the perfect day. Some things did make the day for me, like my bouquet with my dad's cross tucked among my favorite flowers. But I didn't need to waste so much time trying to place everyone just so at tables to ensure a good time was had by all and no fights broke out. I'm wise enough now to see that some things just don't come to pass the way we expect them to and to make plans knowing they will probably change. It makes it easier to accept the fluid nature of life, but it doesn't really help with the anxiety of decision making.
Despite the pressure of everything left to do, I can't help but think that these preparations are, to some extent, a way to channel the love and excitement we feel for this little girl we've never met. I'm feeling so introspective today because I've been touched by the experience of a woman in an online community I participate in. She had many problems early in her pregnancy and eventually found out that her daughter had a chromosomal abnormality and her life expectancy was, quite literally, slim to none. Knowing what she might be facing, she decided to carry on in the hopes that she might have just an hour with her baby. Eventually the big day came and the birth was fine. She got to have two full days with her daughter before she finally passed away. She was as prepared as one can be when you know time is short but don't know just how short it will be. I can't even fathom the kind of strength it takes to prepare for an unknown that ranged in possibility from never seeing your daughter alive to celebrating at least one birthday, if you're lucky. The funeral was held today for little Avery, and many of us in the community have worn bright colors (at her request) to honor the brightness and love this little girl brought to so many lives in such a short time.
Though it feels incredibly selfish to say so, I feel blessed to know that my daughter is growing well. I have a job that lets me put my child first without ruining my career, and a husband who wants to support me in every way possible and is even willing to indulge some of my irrational requests. I had the foresight to save enough money to cover my entire maternity leave, so I won't have to choose between paying bills and spending time with my daughter (at least as far as FMLA will cover). I have family and friends offering up all kinds of help. No matter what, I will never be alone as I go through this journey.
By now, Brianna weighs at least 2 pounds and measures about 9 and a quarter inches crown to rump. Basically, she's a chuck roast, as the ever inspiring What to Expect book put it. Baby. It's what for dinner. (sorry, I had to go there after such a deep/dark post.) Her eyes are open now, but so far the pigment in her irises hasn't formed enough to tell what color eyes she will have (probably green though, with my greenies and Andy's blues). Her heartbeat is supposed to be strong enough that someone could hear it just by listening with an ear pressed against my belly. We haven't tried it yet, but she's kicking enough that Andy can feel it even if he just has his back to my front in bed. She also kicks so hard that sometimes you can see my stomach move because of it. It looks like I have the hiccups, but really it's just her. Just one more week, and it will be down to the last trimester. I hope I have enough time for everything.
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