28 weeks Ya Wa?

28 weeks. Where was I last time at 28 weeks? I don't know, you'd have to read the blog. In the last few days, or week or so I have been feeling seemingly back to normal (whatever that is), although today I am feeling really tired and not quite right. I am happy though, to have been feeling better and stronger and one of the great side-effects of that has been this miraculous new feeling of actually anticipating this baby. I hate to admit it, but there has been a pervasive feeling of...what? Dread? Fear? Overwhelming fatigue? Whatever it has been, it hasn't been the sunshine and lollipops version I had while awaiting my first child (sorry #2, welcome to your reality, huh?) I was a yoga last week (oh, bliss) and all the women were first-timers and talking about their nurseries, their piles of clothes, the booty from the showers, the book-reading, counting down the days. And there was me, with my swollen, purple legs, my horrid compression stockings, my fatigue and I was stricken by the dichotomy between me and them. How had I gotten from there [and I was there] to here? How had I missed the joy this time?

Of course, there was sharing time and by the time they has swung around to me I just blurted out a frank assessment of where I was and how guilty I was feeling about it. Laurie, the earthy, soulful instructor smiled warmly. She told me that she too had felt the same way with her second child and while on a yoga retreat her teacher had told her that each child comes to us with a sort of contract; the first knows they are first and they choose that, while the second knows that they are the second, that that is their destiny to choose, and they know it too. I don't know to what degree any of it is true, but it certainly helped to assuage some of the guilt. And over the last little bit, as more parts poke me, taking a form that seems more concrete, the more I have begun to imagine this small being who will soon inhabit my world. I finally felt that longing to hold them, that feeling that I will marvel at them as much as I did their sister -- that they too will be loved fiercely and dearly. I know I have all that in me, I know it will be there, but damn if it hasn't taken an awfully long time to show its face.

I decided to go through the clothes and get a pile ready for this newborn, something to come home in (as this one will have to come home, we know for sure) and I realized I had nothing. NU-thing. I had to raid Nahanni's treasure box and pilfer all her newborn clothes just to say I have something for this one (let the jealousy begin...now). I have no clothes picked out, no nursery...it all seems the very antithesis of the first time. Of course, I know what I need this time and what I don't. I know the baby will be in our room for a long time so it doesn't need a room. I know sleepers are cheap and they will appear. Perhaps I'm just avoiding dealing with the whole notion that this one must return home instead of being born here, something that really bothers me. I really, truly wish I could have this baby in my own home like I did with Nahanni. I really hate hospitals and I don't relish the experience being there. I know it's best, considering my history, even though there is no evidence that PPH is a recurring event. I know that it will be simpler and easier if something does happen, but still, I wish for the birth I want. And it sure doesn't take place in a hospital. But blah blah, I am resigned to that reality, and I really trust my midwives. I hope that it will be fast (no back-labour this time, thank you very much) and perhaps we can be home before the hospitally-ness settles too far in.

I'm tired today though, too tired to really articulate anything.