Another week down already! This one few by fast. Probably something to do with the start of school, a super busy weekend, and a couple days of handling all the kids on my own. Or maybe it's just regular life.
Had an appointment with my wonderful midwife, Cathy, on Thursday. Everything still looks great - belly the right size, blood pressure good, etc. I haven't felt like there was anything weird going on, so I wasn't surprised. We had a great chat about kids & families & the mental breakdown I had over the spilled pickles. I seriously could not believe it had been 4 weeks since I had seen her last. She'll be back in October, then we start every 2 week visits until 36 weeks.
As today is September 11th, it had me thinking of this day 11 years ago. I was 8 months pregnant with Gabe the day I checked my online support group email & read all of the posts asking if Asha - one of our mamas - was OK. I had no idea what was happening yet, only that something was going on in new York City. I turned on the TV to sights of a burning Trade Center building.
Like many, I was shocked. Like some, I had friends & family to worry about (a cousin in the city, another cousin working in the Pentagon, and several friends in the city). But also, like millions, I had to wonder what else was going to happen. Was this the beginning of a war? An isolated incident? I hugged my belly & cried.
A few years before, pregnant with Corbin, my step-son lost a friend in a gang shooting. Watching those teens deal with loss, & their own mortality, was heart-wrenching. I questioned what kind of screwed up world I was bringing a child into. Who was I to have the right to bring an innocent being into a world where young adults pull up to a stop light & shoot a girl in the next car for no reason? It took weeks of soul-searching to come to the conclusion that I was just the right person to bring a new human into the world - someone committed to making a difference, and making this world a better place. I also knew that I would raise my child to be compassionate, loving, and to bring something into the world that would make a difference - somewhere, somehow.
A few days after 9/11/01, I reminded myself of those days & weeks of being pregnant with Corbin. I had learned by then that my family & friends were safe, though emotionally scarred. The country had learned by then that WWIII had not started on American soil, and that while there were wounds to heal, and deaths to mourn, we too were safe. And I had remembered that this baby, too, would be raised to be loving, compassionate, and to make a difference.
I am grateful that this time around, 9/11 and that gang shooting are memories from which I learned. Our night of the fire evacuation was difficult enough to endure, with no death or possible wars to confront. Life is busy & stressful enough - especially during pregnancy - without these intense life lessons rearing their heads. So this week, I will focus on remembering lessons I have already learned, and spending all the time I can hugging my belly. Without the tears.
When I read "hugged my belly and cried", it brought tears to my eyes again. That is exactly what I was doing. I did for the next 10 days until Eric was born. The contractions were so painful on 9/11 and I prayed that he wouldn't be born that day. Today, out of the blue, Eric says, "Today should be my birthday, mom". It stills gives me chills to think about it...
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