Monthly Archives: March 2013

39 weeks: impatiently patient

Well, we’re still waiting. We’ve checked all of our tasks off the list for the most part (the hospital bag? Almost packed), and now we just…wait. This weekend felt odd…like there was something big we should be doing, something urgent to be addressed, when in reality there was nothing pressing. We watched basketball, went out to lunch, made a belly cast (really), and puttered about the house. We shared this overarching feeling of urgency when in reality nothing urgent waited to be tackled. Well, nothing aside from labor and delivery and Mango. But that we cannot control – we’re at the mercy of Mango and the mercy of my body deciding that eviction is the best option.

There’s something surreal about these days, these hours. I look at Chris and feel like we should be doing things, making memories, living these final moments when it is just us…and then I realize that we are doing just that. We’re wandering about our neighborhood, both of us lost in the same yet different thoughts, teetering on the brink of a moment in time that will change our world in a way that we cannot yet know. But we do know. Sort of. We know our hopes and our dreams for life after Mango…we know what we want our world to look like, what we want to strive to achieve. Much of that is quite simple. We long for the firsts: the first glimpse, the first snuggle, the first smile, the first laugh. Oh, the first laugh. For two people who spend as much time chuckling as we do, that first laugh is huge.

I now understand how parents have hopes and dreams for their children, but I wonder if they are really hopes and dreams for the children or hopes and dreams for the world in which they want their children to live? I mean, I don’t care one way or another about the details…I just want to create a world in which happiness reigns, fear is rare, and love abounds. A world of wonder that leaves Mango open to embracing the quirkiness of the people of his or her world, and a curiosity that pushes our little creation to seek out new places, new people, new experiences. Must it be on a grand scale? Not at all. But do I hope to impart those values on Mango? Sure. Does it matter if Mango loves to travel, will watch sports with Chris, and enjoys an afternoon walk with me? Not entirely. Of course all of those things would be nice, but ultimately I’m not sure they matter so long as we share the core beliefs of loving the world and treating others with kindness. Being open to differences, and – better yet – finding beauty in differences. Embracing life as an adventure to be experienced rather than a collection of empty days strung together by sleepless nights.

So as we sit here, impatiently patiently awaiting Mango’s arrival, of course our minds are filled with thoughts about what childbirth will be, what life with Mango will be, and just how different our world will look.  But more than anything, we find ourselves drifting into thoughts of the joys we want to share with Mango, the simple life lessons that we hold so dear. So yes, we do have hopes and dreams for Mango, but now more than ever I realize that they are quite basic in nature: to share with our child the world as we see it, full of love and potential for joy. Sprinkled with laughter even on the crappiest of days. Full of adventure in whatever way Mango so chooses.

But in the meantime, we kind of just sit…gazing pensively out the window…impatiently patient.

Oh, and check this out:

Oh yes, definitely pregnant.

38 weeks of Mango

Well we failed at having a St Patrick’s Day baby, and from the looks of it we’re going to fail at having a baby in the teens of March.  Hurry up, Mango. 

That about sums up the mood – for both me and Chris.  We’re ready.  Of course we have no real idea what we’re getting into, and we’re not really ready because how can you ever be ready, but we’re as ready as we’re going to be.  It’s time to get the show on the road. We just need Mango to hear our pleas and bust a move.  Mango? 

You know what’s worse than wondering when Mango will arrive? Wondering if Mango will be late. We can handle another two weeks even though we would rather not, but the notion of another three to four weeks sounds rather unpleasant.  Alas, we’ll have to wait and see.


Full-term seems like a big deal.  No, full-term IS a big deal.  37 weeks. Mango made it through the weeds and into the home stretch.  We both feel it.  I’m squished, uncomfortable, and gaining excitement day by day; Mango is squished, (un)comfortable(?), and gaining ounces day by day.  We’ve made a good team over the past nine months, and I feel more and more confident as the days creep by that we will continue to make a good team when we finally meet face to face.

It’s crazy to me how close the end/beginning really is. Each day goes by and I’m shocked at how close March 31st feels. I attend meetings at work; we talk about tasks to be completed by next week; I wonder will I be here next week? Or will I be snuggling Mango? Who knows.

Such thoughts require me to focus on the present – require me to be present – and I like it. Of course I am overwhelmed and anxious for what life with Mango will be, but I’m also ready to find out what that life will be. Ready to see Chris and Mango together. Ready to watch my most favorite man fall in love with my most favorite tiny little person. Ready for them to team up against Mom because I know that will become a favorite hobby. Ready.

Along with that readiness comes the unease of course of how it all happens, what that day or days looks like, how we handle it, what ridiculous tasks we come up with to entertain ourselves when we know we can’t go to the hospital just yet. I’m hoping for a walk or two outside, a silly errand, maybe even a game of Scrabble. Please don’t burst my bubble if those are naïve thoughts. I would also find it entirely fitting if we haven’t bought our birthday champagne yet (it WILL be in the hospital bag) and have to go to the package store down the way on one of our walks. I just hope they don’t card me.

How can you card this?

I’ve also been reflecting a lot recently on the past months…finding out about Mango, telling our families, growing out of my pants, feeling Mango kick, watching Chris first feel Mango kick, experiencing what it feels like to have my belly swell from toned to a basketball of baby.  It’s a lot to grasp and a lot to understand, especially because for the longest time it didn’t really feel real or like there would ever be an end. And now here we are, with the end in sight and the constant thoughts of what day will it be, how will it play out, who is Mango? That’s the biggest one: who is Mango? This tiny little being that I know so intimately yet have never met. The fingers that I cannot wait to feel wrapped around my own, the snuggle that I cannot wait to experience.

Who are you, Mango? And how will I ever call you by a name other than Mango?

We shall find out soon.


Well…we’re here. It’s March. And while we can’t be certain that Mango will arrive in March, it’s still…March. The month that we’ve been counting towards since July. The month that has the potential to flip our world upside down (again). The month in which we might perhaps meet the little animal who has been kicking and squirming and kneading away in there for months upon months. The month in which my mother cooks delicious corned beef (that’s the pregnant Irish lass talking).

35 weeks of Mango brought us to this day…and, March, we’re ready for you. Sort of (note the frazzled hairdo).