Holding my Breath

I'm not sure if it's my penchant for worry, the hormones raging through my system, my past miscarriage or some combination of those and other factors, but so far I would have to say that pregnancy has been a bit like holding my breath for several months at a stretch. I imagine it would be a little bit different if I didn't have known complications that limit my activity or, perhaps, if I had a job to keep my mind on other things. As things are, however, I feel like 80% of the time -- when I am alone at home or awake in the night -- I have nothing in the world but this baby and my own thoughts, and since my thoughts don't tend to be unflaggingly positive, it's a whole lot of work to avoid sinking into something akin to paranoia and despair.

Truth be told, I live for the moments of reassurance that come from good doctor's visits (that are all too few and far between for my tastes) and spend a fair amount of down time (of which I have plenty) waiting to feel a movement or to become convinced by the whispering reassuring voices in my head that I should worry less and believe more, and ignore the insistent voices that argue to the contrary. Perhaps this is a reflection of my spiritual health -- more faith = less fear -- or perhaps it's just part of the experience for me at this otherwise very quiet time in my life.

It's so hard to at the same time fall madly in love with this tiny little person and to be desperately afraid to get attached. It's too late for that already, but perhaps you know what I mean. I'm thrilled to be carrying this child, and my heart is overflowing with love for it already. I simply wonder why I can't rejoice in every minute the blessing is in my life without wondering when it will be snatched away. It doesn't seem right or fair to feel this way, but I have not figured out how to banish my worries and cling to hope.

My husband, who gave me some really adorable sports-themed baby things for Christmas, promptly hid them away in his closet when he realized that my reaction to the items was less enthusiastic than either of us would have liked. He did this because he's sensitive to the fact that I was worried about this baby in those early scary days. Fact is, I am still not ready to make our home look like it will be inhabited by another little person in about 5 months. He's been very good about just supporting me where I am, but I still feel like something is wrong with me.

One of the ways this all manifests is in my reluctance to plan too far in advance or to even buy anything for the baby. I finally broke out of that a little bit this past week by deciding that it wouldn't hurt to have done some of my research when the magic moment arrives (time TBA) that it's okay to start planning and buying in earnest. I went to Babies-R-Us after a reassuring doctor's visit and walked the aisles taking notes on what sorts of things I would like to have in the house for baby. Then, this weekend, we had a real adventure: we went to the zoo, aka IKEA in Charlotte, and while it wiped me out for a few days, we did manage to do what I had wanted to do - price and touch the cribs and other baby furniture they offer.

We're not rolling in the dough these days, so I find my wants are really fairly modest. I know many people in our lives will probably be happy to give us baby-related gifts, but I am looking at the baby-stuff acquisition project as a chance to decide what we would *need* if we were reduced to buying it all ourselves. I think that helps with focus in a sector of the retail world that peddles cute and cuddly to the exclusion of good sense. If I can manage to focus on function first, perhaps we can enjoy the frills a bit more when we add them on top. It helps to know what function costs so that I can spot a deal. My momma taught me that much!

There are two consignment events happening this month, and I have decided that they are good opportunities to quit fretting and start getting positive. Would it kill me to buy a couple of gently worn generic onesies? Would the sky come crashing down if I dared to pick up a used crib or other bit of baby furniture? There is the real concern that buying consignment means I can't take it back if I discover I don't need or want the item, but that's hardly a reason to wait until I have a squealing babe in arms to start buying items said squealing person will need. If we don't need them, someone will, and I am sure I can come up with a solution.

Let's get real here. Even if the sky did come crashing down and one of my worst-case scenarios became my reality ... I'm smart enough to realize that there isn't a causal relationship between buying baby things and tragedy. The only causal relationship of note is that of God's hand in everything that happens in life, and my need to trust him that whatever he has in store. You know... He *may* just bless us with a healthy baby! I wish I could get that through my head... or at least just muster trust sufficient for each day as it comes, because when it comes to holding your breath... you can only do it for so long without killing something in yourself.