I have a hard time putting into words what the past six weeks or so have been like.
Several years ago, I worked 40, 50, sometimes 60 hour weeks running a nonprofit organization – which often involved doing manual labor – while getting my master’s degree full time simultaneously. I was go, go, go all the time and I was tired all the time, but I managed.
Pregnancy is a hundred times harder than balancing jobs and school. It’s harder than training horses, or managing all different types of people, or writing theses, or keeping an organization afloat. It’s harder than anything I’ve ever done in my life.
Someday I might write more about the physical struggle that has been this first trimester, but honestly, I feel it’s a subject about which I don’t need to write.
Today we had another check up with my doctor. Whereas the first ultrasound we saw a tiny little speck on the screen, this one revealed a wiggling little somebody, who squirmed when he/she was poked and moved around and even waved to us a little (his/her little hand is raised in the picture).
Based on the size of the baby, my doctor estimated my due date five days behind our calculation, which has changed our due date to September 24th… my birthday.
And I can only think, as I gaze and gaze at this little person who I haven’t met yet and already love beyond anything I’ve ever known, that I would relive these past six weeks a thousand times over, for the rest of my life, if it meant he/she was well.
I hope to be out of the woods soon with sickness and back into the swing of my daily life: volunteering and working and progressing with my nonprofit Sonora’s Cure, whose development I’ve put completely on hold for some time. I miss connecting with my friends – both in person and those of you I talk to on Instagram or Facebook.
For now, I remind myself that I’m making a person, and that I need to be patient as I wait for my energy to return.
I understand now, even in this early stage, that this is the hardest job I’ll ever do.