The final days (or hours) before my life forever changes…or rather, before my life changes in the biggest way yet. I find it hard to find words that adequately express my thoughts and feelings these days. I’m at the tail end of my pregnancy. A time that 10 months ago I thought I would never even experience after 18 months of failing to get pregnant. A time that 9 months ago seemed so far away and I could barely even imagine. Time is a tricky thing, it’s all together wildly fast and peacefully slow. The slowness is in the moments, the savoring of each minute as if it really is the last. Because it is the last as no minute is the same – and that right there is where I am. All my life changes and shifts in self happened relatively fast without much of a build up or period of anticipation. Even marrying Jonathan was a whirlwind of preparations and chaos that there was no actual time to sit and savor the minutes as they ticked by. This is the first time in my life that I’ve had 9 months to take time to sit and meditate with quiet anticipation. I’ve been savoring the minutes as they tick by and intentionally appreciating them for the unique beginning and ending that they are. One could argue that I’m already a mother, that it’s not a sudden change, but I think it is. I realized today, with alarm, that this is the very last day entirely alone with zero obligations. My last day off that I can do what I want, when I want, where I want, and how I want for the next several years, potentially. The last. The end. An end. There are no words that could express the complexity of this emotion. In some ways there is a peacefulness, and in other’s there is a terror. It’s days like today, the endings that have to happen in order to have beginnings, that I am both anticipating and dreading. This is a time of mourning while simultaneously prepping and planning for what’s on the other side of this ending.
On the one hand I am beyond ready to meet my son, to tear open my body, to transform, somewhat suddenly, to being a mother. I have nothing but excitement and eagerness for labor and delivery to begin. I have spent 9 months preparing myself mentally for the pain and the management of it while maintaining an open mind that it is an experience beyond imagination and I can only prepare so far. My body and soul is ready to transform, split open, and deliver a human soul back onto this earth that Jonathan and I have the privilege to nurture and love.
On the other hand I am sad. I feel like I am preparing my own funeral so that I can rise again reincarnated as Mother. With any letting go, change, death there is a sadness. This is a spiritual and ethereal heaviness. The hard part about death of a loved one is knowing you will never see that person you loved again. There is no option. You can’t dig them up and breath life into them. You can’t tape together their ashes. It’s not easy for our brains to comprehend. That was the hardest part, and still is, of my father dying so suddenly. He was there and then he was forever gone, and I will never feel his hug again. This is what I am mentally and emotionally preparing for. The death of my self as I’ve known me for the last 31 years, because I am about to change on a cellular level. My core is changing already.
Right now I am in the in between time. That quiet place in between who I’ve always been and who I am about to become. I am walking toward the light of motherhood. I am joining the elite club of all the mothers of the earth, past and present. I am joining my own mother, my own sister, and my mother Earth.