The Final Months Of My Final Pregnancy

Bump Squad mama Emilia on trying to savor the final weeks of her last pregnancy.

I made it! The end of the end of the end. I will hang up my magical, mystical birth goddess hat and bid it farewell; I am done. I will never again have the incredible honor of carrying a child. I will never again feel the rush of joy as this life inside me moves. I will never again watch my body transform into a powerhouse of strength capable of a truly miraculous feat.

And, truth be told. I ain't mad at it.

Don't get me wrong, it's been real. It's been fun. But, it hasn't always been real fun. It has been down right difficult at times if you want to know the truth. The initial joy/shock of finding out, mixed with the struggles of already having 3 small boys, a dash of "WTF, how am I going to do this?!" topped with a twist of "this is incredible, an absolute miracle" left me pretty depleted.

While being a mommy is and has always been my true calling, I imagined my pregnancies would be absolutely perfect. You know that girl that gains no weight accept for the spherical belly under her shirt. The one that is never sick, tired or feels a single ache. HA! Soooooooo not me in any of my pregnancies. Boo-hoo.

After my first round with the twins, I realized I am not the "love to be pregnant type". Thinking my second pregnancy with one baby would be easier, and it really not, was rather crushing. So OF COURSE, it would make perfect sense that this miracle baby sent from Heaven would equal the most perfect pregnancy e-ver right?! WRONG (sigh, wipe tear).

But at least I can say, with 100% certainty, that I have always been the "so incredibly thankful/honored to be given this gift to be pregnant type", especially after years of struggling with infertility. So, at the end of the day I have learned to love and appreciate this often torturous gift.

And here I am, after what seemed to be the fastest yet longest pregnancy, it is nearly over. I am standing on Platform Nine and Three Quarters preparing to board the Hogwart's Express, because to me birth is nothing short of pure magic. And this is my last show.

Now, I have to pump my rarely pumped breaks and try to slow down. Try to savor these last moments being a mommy of three amazing little boys while also creating an ongoing emergency plan in my mind for when my youngest, my forever baby, tries to murder the newborn. No, I am not joking. This is a legit concern of mine.

The house is ready to welcome the last piece of our family puzzle, the car seat is installed and the bags are loaded in my hospital chariot. I've been talking to the boys about their new baby non stop for months and I am prepared, primped and ready for action.

And now comes the hardest time of all, the wait. I try to allow time to pass, and to become even more connected to each twang and pang of my body as I want to listen to all her cues as to what is to come.

In an effort to save me from going crazy in the process I fill my days with organizing, baking, cleaning, Organic Herbal Sitz Bath "padsicle" making, tea brewing (all Earth Mama of course) and trying to calm my anxieties about the when. All I can do is welcome the now.

I may look back and wish I had tried to enjoyed each nausea inducing baby roll, the fact that my left leg may need to be amputated due to the fact it has turned a lovely shade of purple as this fat baby crushes my Vena Cava and the debilitating exhaustion that comes with raising rambunctious little humans, running a home, working part time, stating a new business all the while growing a human. I doubt it, but hey, only time will tell.

Right now, I am thrilled to enter the arena of birth goddess status for one last time. I openly share my excitement to embark on my second unmedicated VBAC and hold my sweet lump of love as the trophy of what my body is capable of. Soon, I'll be experiencing the transition from growing life inside me to sustaining life outside as I become a full blown milk machine.

Nothing short of magic.

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