Maturing Time

            There is nothing better than anticipation to put you in your place about time. Insist as you might, every minute is not equal to the next. For me the moments are moving fast and slow at the same time as that fateful day approaches, the day of our Ultrasound.

            I’ve had pretty ambivalent feelings about this whole pregnancy. Am I a bad person if I say that I have yet to feel an overwhelming surge of perfect love towards my unborn child? Before I got pregnant I wanted to hold every baby , press them to me and kiss their foreheads. I was rather emotional about the whole thing. Now that we are having one of our own I am sort of up in the air about babies in general. That powerful urge, that “Baby!Must-hold!” shout that used to run through my brain is absent. At first I was surprised by it, but now I have come to think that maybe this is maturity pushing its way in. I love that I am pregnant, I am happy about it, but the girly squeals of excitement have been replaced with a peaceful smile; a more constant kind of love is being allowed to grow.

            I am not giddy with excitement for our Ultrasound, I am simply anticipating it with this new kind of joy; and time is behaving differently in reaction to this previously unmet emotion. Time is freaking out. Like, yesterday would NOT end, but when it did I looked back at it sadly and thought, “Yet another day has slipped past me, without my full awareness, because I am waiting for something different.” I want the days to pass by so I can get to the one that I am anticipating, but I have grown enough to know that this kind of attitude comes with a cost. I am also learning that time is a tricky little devil, who likes to pretend you’ve got the hang of her, just so she can throw you for a loop. This maturing thing is stupid.

P.S. Having to wear a bra all the time is also stupid.