The rides

My mind often wanders on the twice-weekly, 45 minute drives to and from the doctor's office. Usually I think about how great it will be when I have my own body back and don't have to spend all this time driving and waiting and being poked and prodded. Thursday, however, I had Christmas music playing on the radio, and even though I'm extra weepy these days, normally I can still hold it together even during Josh Groban's rendition of O Holy Night (siiiiiiiiiigh....). This day, though, Mary, Did You Know came on and I completely lost it.

Once I'd cleaned up the mascara running down my face, I began thinking about how angry and resentful I've been about this whole pregnancy - moving from horrible morning sickness, into the agonizing heat of summer and a rogue high blood pressure episode turned ER visit, unrelated stress throughout the fall, right back into the hospital at 29 weeks and into OB care where I never wanted nor intended to be...I've whined and bitched and moaned and whined some more. I haven't appreciated the things that I've gotten to experience that this baby's new mama hasn't. I get to feel her roll and tumble, I get to play with her by pushing on her feet and getting her to kick me back, I get to see her sweet little face on ultrasound every week and hear her heart beating. I get to feel the incredible work my body does every night practicing to push her out.

I didn't want any of this, I've had my babies and I had all of those experiences that helped me bond to them in utero. I wish that I could have given these things to her adoptive mom, because I don't deserve them and I don't appreciate them nearly enough. I have concentrated so much on the fact that I have to do "The Hard Part", that I have failed to give enough thought and appreciation to how hard her job is too. Instead of spending the last 8 months growing her new daughter and enjoying all that entails, she has been "laboring" on the phone with lawyers and doctors and social workers, cleaning and sorting and organizing for nerve-wracking home visits, fund-raising and worrying over the money required to cover all the legal costs of adopting even an already chosen baby, lovingly washing and putting away sweet little baby girl clothes, and preparing her children for what potentially may be nearly a month without their mother.

Everyone says I'm so strong, that they are in awe of what I'm doing for this baby. I know that this experience has certainly grown me exponentially as a person. Could I do what she is doing, though? I don't know. She has done everything she's had to do on a leap of faith - without the daily, tangible reminders of the prize at the end, without the rewarding milestones that keep an expectant mom motivated to keep going on. She's just gone on and done what needed doing, patiently waiting for her turn to do the fun stuff. Of course her husband has done the same as well, and is just as wonderful and sweet and patient, but it's different for a father because that's what he's used to doing during pregnancy, grin.

So, I still whine, and I still complain and I still look forward to the relief of climbing off this roller coaster, but I worry too that if things with my health go south too quickly, the new mama may miss the birth in addition to everything else she's had to miss, and that would be a loss for all involved.