Counting Down

I turn 37 next Tuesday. I will also be going to the hospital, that evening presumably, to get induced to deliver my baby girl the next day. 

I’ve been doing okay the past few weeks. I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes a month and half ago and stayed in the hospital for a few days to get it under control. Since then, I’ve been injecting insulin four times a day. The baby is measuring bigger than average but overall is healthy. I’ve been nesting the last couple of weeks and getting everything ready, or as ready as it’ll ever be. My friends also threw me and Stephen a beautiful baby shower last week. I’m in the final few days of working before going on maternity leave and while I’m tired all the time, I am excited. 

Last night, I was going through some boxes and came across one filled with my baby clothes that Mom saved. As I sifted through them, I started crying, which turned into sobs and me calling out for her. It was the hardest I’ve cried in a while. I’ve had so much support during this pregnancy and I know that will continue after I’ve delivered, but seeing the clothes my mom picked out reminded me that she’s not here. She won’t be able to hold her granddaughter. I will make sure the baby knows who my mom was and how much she would have loved her, but it’s devastating to know that they will never meet. 

It hurts knowing that only seven months passed between Mom dying and me finding out I was pregnant. I keep thinking of things I want to ask her about when she was pregnant. I want to know how she felt when she found out. I want to know about her delivery experience and what it was like postpartum, especially since she didn’t have a partner like I do. I’m so excited for this baby, but scared for the hormone drop and how it will affect me, but knowing I have Stephen has calmed that anxiety quite a bit. Mom didn’t have that. I want to know how becoming a mother changed her. There are so many questions I have about her pregnancy. A lot of my friends and community have shared their own experiences with me, which I’m grateful for, but I want to hear my Mom’s and I can’t. 

I picked out some of the smaller clothes, washed them, and fully intend on using them for the baby. Somehow they still smell like Mom, which is comforting. I can’t wait to meet this little human soon.