Tomorrow makes 30 weeks, with only 70 days to go. I know I shouldn't be complaining, since, well, you know... I'm not the pregnant one and all. But I am ready for this to be over.
First, I'm ready to get started. In some ways it feels like I have been waiting my whole life to be a father, and I've certainly been waiting for it since the end of July last year. There's little in my job to challenge me or give me satisfaction or meaning. I'm not relied upon; I make no meaningful decisions and solve no complicated problems. I'm ready to find out if I can do this job. I'm ready to find out if I'm buried under the mountain of parenting minutia, or if I revel in it. I know, it will probably be both. But my past work experience demonstrates that I have a huge capacity for carrying on through the most soul-crushing monotony, so with the added bonuses of purpose and meaning, I think I'll thrive. I can't wait to find out.
Second, I'm ready for the pregnancy part to be over. I'm superstitious enough to cringe at saying that and whisper, "Not premature, though, please. Not premature." It's just been hard on Mrs. Rodius. Well, the first and third trimesters have been hard; the second flew by much too quickly. She was happy, laughing. I felt and saw the baby move for the first time. It was glorious. But now, she's tired. She's uncomfortable. She hates the way she looks. Her clothes don't fit. Her shoes don't fit. She can't get enough sleep. She cries more than she laughs.
And I'm not happy with my performance as her partner through this. I don't do enough to support her, or I do too much. I get mad at her for being unhappy, and angry at myself for being mad. I promised myself that I wouldn't drink while she was pregnant, because she can't drink either. But I broke that promise after three months and repeatedly since.
Ah well. We'll get through it. We've made it through tougher times. But 71 days through the middle of the pregnancy was too short, was gone before I really knew what happened. 71 days through the end, though, it just can't go fast enough.
2 comments:
Oh, I feel for both of you. That last little while can be a beyotch. Can you spring for a pregnancy massage? It is a little slice of heaven to have someone rub your feet when you can't reach them anymore. Just be careful not to hit the spot right above the ankle because it can cause contractions.
Hang in there. Be nice to each other, and enjoy each other's company. Do fun things together, and be her cheering section. Remember this fundamental rule and it will serve you well as a husband and parent:
If mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.
Sending good thoughts your way!
Thanks, we're trying. Some days are worse than others. Wednesday I was feeling a bit darker, but yesterday and today are looking up. We're soldiering on, but the kind thoughts help!
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