I Am the Walrus

This is Ptolemy's picture smile.  He says, "I gotta smile."

I have new year's resolutions.  I have goals, aspirations, inspirations.  I have dangerously strong nesting instincts that are telling me to paint rooms and rearrange furniture.  But my head full of fabulous ideas is weighted down by a severely pregnant body that feels more like a beached walrus than a human.  I tell myself I feel great, but do I?  Do I?

All things considered, I do.  No complaints other than the usual pregnancy symptoms:  All internal organs crushed into spaces half their size, chronic sinus infection, groin muscles popping like old mattress springs, inability to get enough oxygen into my lungs, stomach the size of a cashew, and wondering whether to call the paramedics after climbing a flight of stairs.  No big deal.  At least I look great.  That's what people keep telling me, anyway, after I tell them the baby is due in three days.  (It makes me seem smaller.)

If you watch Ptolemy closely, you'll see exactly what a 40-year-old pregnant lady looks and acts like, because he's picked up some interesting behaviors.  He groans whenever he sits down or stands up.  He pants going up the stairs.  He lifts up his shirt and scratches his belly.  He gets agitated if there's no chocolate.  He makes these aggravated little sounds whenever something is hard, like, "Uuuuuuugh!  Rrrrrrrrrrgh!"  As if life couldn't possibly get more frustrating.  It's the sound I usually make when something falls on the floor and I know I'm going to have to somehow pick it up.  Ptolemy even stuck out his tiny tummy yesterday and said, "I have a Tziporah in here!  Two Tziporahs!"  Oh, he's so confused!

With only five short weeks left until the baby is born, I'm trying to savor each moment.  I don't care about the aches and inconveniences; this is my very last chance to carry a baby and call that bond my own.  It's hard not to wish the time away when something as exciting as a baby is on the horizon.  I have to stop and appreciate what's around me:  six fabulous kids, a great husband, a cozy home and a baby who, for just a short time longer, is mine alone.  It is a miracle that she is here, waiting and growing, so this day, and every day, is miraculous.  And fortunately, it doesn't take any physical strength or agility to ponder a miracle.  That, I can do.