6.02.06
Sunny Friday
Funny how in a brief moment you can sometimes catch a glimpse of yourself through someone else�s eyes and it paints for you a picture that you did not expect to see.
My mom called me this morning for our daily chat (I have essentially stopped answering the phone unless it is Steve or Mom because I am tired of people calling to see if the baby has been born yet) and was asking how things went at the Midwife the other day. She said she sympathizes with how I am feeling and knew that I must be getting impatient. And you are one of the most patient people I know.
Me? Patient? Really? It is never a word I would have thought to use to describe myself. Sure, I think that things happen in their due time, and to tell the truth it does not even really bother me that much to wait fifteen minutes for someone to show up if they are late. But patient with the big things?
I used to have a horrible temper when I was young. Stomping up the stairs and slamming my door kind of temper. It actually became a joke in my family. I used to get so mad that I would swear I was not going to talk anymore, and then get madder still when my parents and brothers would cheer that it would finally be quiet. Once I was got so angry over something that happened while I was brushing my teeth I bit down hard on my toothbrush and broke it. Unfortunately, it was a really neat toothbrush with the A and W bear on it, and I was really, really disappointed that my dad could not somehow magically fix it.
Eventually I decided that these temper tantrums needed to stop and for whatever reason, I stopped stomping up the stairs and I stopped throwing my brush at the wall and I stopped swearing off talking (because, I swear that never lasted long). Then there was the stage that I just bottled everything up inside, in an attempt to be strong. I lied to myself and to other people about what I was feeling. I constantly had an upset stomach and would throw up for no real reason. I just buried and buried my emotions, my real fears and concerns and wondered why I felt like no one really understood me. I started to believe that God did not exist and that my father who had once been the wisest, most brave man in the world was not quite to smart and that my mother knew even less. We would fight on the weekends when I was home from private school, and I would smoke pot once I got back with my friends and giggle and feel that this is where I truly belong. I would get a crush on a boy and date him for two weeks, only to be turned off when he showed the slightest bit of interest in me or an interest in wanting to pursue things further than a few kisses and frustrated gropes in a dark hallway.
I fell in love with someone who had no more of an idea of who I was than I did, and I told him some of my secrets and lost my virginity and smoked a lot of pot and thought that I would never feel that way about anyone ever again. And then I started university and made new friends and realized that things change and people change and my aunt died and my grandmother died and my great aunt died and then my great grandmother died all within eighteen months of each other and I felt so lost and sad and sometimes angry inside for no real reason.
I fell in love again, this time with a boy who wanted to change who I was and what I believed. I had fun and drank rum and cokes. I flirted too much and made him feel insecure. I buried my anger about losing the people in my life that I had loved and wondered why no one in my family really seemed to like my boyfriend. He graduated and we broke up and I spent the summer getting drunk, working at a boring office job and playing rugby. I started to see the reasons he had been bad for me, and started to realize why I felt so angry at everyone sometimes. I started to think that maybe there was some method to all of the madness on this earth and that maybe God had an idea or two for me after all. I met Steve and I graduated and in a nutshell here I am today.
So I guess through all of that, maybe I have learned to believe in fate a little bit, but not the kind of fate that lets you sit back and enjoy the ride while you magically end up in the right place at the right time, but the type of fate that you help control because you work hard and become conscious of what goes on inside your own head and learn to love yourself.
I guess I am feeling better this week, that somehow because I am past my due date we are not on such a tight schedule anymore. That baby will come when baby is ready, and hopefully it is before too much time passes. Steve is more impatient than I am, and all this waiting makes him tired. We are going on a date tonight, maybe out to supper and then to see The Break Up, and today I am going to bake some muffins to freeze. There is a voice inside my head that says this baby will be here by next Wednesday, and really one week is not that late anyway. She surprised us at the beginning, so it really goes to reason that once again, she will show up when she wants to and not when any calendar says that it is time.
I am skeptical of this whole due date thing anyway, and am starting to believe that since so many babies come a week or two after mom is told they will be here, maybe whoever is in charge if all of these things should start telling Mom and Dad one week later than expected. It would be so much easier on us all. Although it did not help matters to hear the Midwife say she would book my 41 week ultrasound Wednesday.
Anyway, at least it is sunny and Friday and Steve is off work early today which gives us lots of time to take Milo for a swim before the movie starts. We have been sitting out on out step at night lately, and these sunny non-muggy days make me so happy inside.
wunderwuman at 10:02 a.m.