I went home for lunch today (yes, I live that close to work—it’s heavenly). On my doorstep was a big box from my mother. The box was full of about 8 baby blankets, each one with a matching onesie. The onesies have cute little animals on them, and they are so small with tiny cap sleeves. (Am I really going to have a baby that small? Will s/he break?) The blankets are soft, small, whimsical and so cute that pre-pregnancy I might have gagged a little. But, I am so very pregnant, and I love the blankets so very much. I wanted to curl up under them all and take a nap. But I was ravenously hungry and went straightaway to make my lunch.
Pregnancy is like MSG for my emotions. It brings out the flavor. I am super-scared, super-excited, super-loving, super-irrational, and/or super-bitchy. But I’m always super-something. My first trimester, I felt overwhelmingly nervous, anxious, and scared. My second trimester has been totally different. I love being pregnant. I love my belly, I love the concept, I am indulging my nesting instinct (with super-human help from Yang), and I am so excited to be a mom. I wonder what the third trimester will bring.
This is the first time in my pregnancy that I have been so emotional over an object. I love those blankets. I love those onesies. Not just because my baby will soon be wrapped up in them, but because they are a comfort in and of themselves. They represent my fairytale concept of domestic tranquility and maternal bliss. The cynical, smarter half of me knows that there will be very few tranquil and blissful moments as new mom, so that is why I am soaking it all up right now. Those blankets represent the impressionistic painting of motherhood, with soft light streaming through the windows and a beautiful baby sleeping soundly in the arms of a calm, capable, loving mother. Heh, heh, heh. I can dream, can’t I?