Four.

I still find it (practically} inconceivable that this Babe is set to arrive in four weeks. I know, I say that every single week. I totally do.

It feels especially mind trippy today, considering all of this started at four weeks … back in August. Now, here I am, over seven months later and … so much yet so little has changed. As always is the case.

It’s a damn good thing that it takes 10 months to grow a baby. That’s all I have to say. For real, this whole nine months is just such bullshit unless People start clarifying that’s nine full months, which still puts us at 10. I might be harboring a teeny bit of ill will about that whole being deceived on the nine versus ten subject … only a teeny bit. Anyway. Moving along.

Starting at four weeks and coming down to the final four has been nothing short of a transformation. I mean, in some ways, I’m still an utter mess. I am.

There remains fear and uncertainty and all those other worthless emotions that like to try to suck us into the Black Hole, except now … they’re on the back burner. I’d like to be able to say they’re gone, but I don’t know if any of us ever shed fear completely?

The difference is now they don’t consume me. I am having a child. I will birth this child. End of story. It’s gonna happen, one way or another. Accepting that and then also looking at every single woman out there with children reminded me that this is a normal thing. It’s been happening since the beginning of time and it will continue to happen till the end of time.

Hell, if those bad ass Africans can squat down on a dirt floor, surely I too can do it? Damn right!

I think I can easily sum up these months of pregnancy in one word: acceptance. Once I realized that I’ll never have it all figured out and I’m never going to get it all done, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders.

I don’t have to know everything! And I don’t have to do it right! I’m going to mess up. I’m going to hope the messing up is far out numbered by all the not messing up. I’m going to give it my best shot — which some days might be really damn awesome and other days, pretty pathetically sub par.

And I’m just going to be me. I don’t have to try to pretend I’m Mrs. Crafty Mom when I’m not. I don’t have to cook and clean like June Clever. Well, maybe the cleaning part I already have down.

But, my point is: acceptance is a true gift. One that I’m going to be working on continuously giving myself throughout this soon to be babyhood journey. Of which I really hope you’ll join me on.

 

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