The really big mullet

I haven't been writing much about my pregnancy here.

The truth is, I don't really know what to say most of the time. Some women are fantastic at writing about their journeys to motherhood, documenting each milestone with great detail and care. The sheer number of pregnancy/mommy blogs on the internet will make anyone's head spin. But for some reason, here I am 30 weeks pregnant, still speechless at the whole thing.

I write long posts and then save them in the hopper, never having the guts to hit the "publish" button. And then I come back a week later and delete them without even re-reading. The words never seem right, or enough.

This might sound strange, but for me, pregnancy both is and isn't special. Details aside, the path to get here wasn't the easiest - but it also wasn't the hardest. Even so, it was starting to wear me down emotionally, and no matter what a person's situation is, pain is pain - if you feel it, it's real. So when I found out that I was indeed pregnant, I couldn't believe it. I truly thought that we were just beginning a very long, unknown, journey, and I was mentally preparing myself for the worst. But we started a long, unknown journey of a different, happier variety. So in that sense, pregnancy is so very special, and I'm beyond grateful to be where I'm at now. There are no words. Every day I marvel at each kick and roll, wondering how we got so damn lucky. It is everything I hoped it would be, and a lot of what I could never ever have imagined.

But at the same time, I don't feel particularly special. Biology wants us to multiply, and so we do. The physical process itself is complex and incredible, but we are mammals - this is what we do, and we're really good at it. I walked around Target at 8 PM the other night and found myself surrounded by at least a half-dozen other moms-to-be. I was not unique. I was just another woman with a round belly, standing in the paper goods aisle and wrestling with whether to get the 6-pack or the 12-pack of toilet paper.

We can blame good ol' biology for simultaneous hunger and hatred for all food (WTF), the insomnia, the heartburn, and all the other crazy physical changes. But mix in culture with all that logical biology and things start to get a little weird for me to grasp. Pregnancy and child-rearing get elevated to strange levels of "specialness" - we have entire superstores filled with STUFF! JUST FOR THE BABY!; boutiques specializing in (mostly lame) clothes to accommodate women's growing bellies; our current medical culture requires that we have a zillion doctor's appointments (sometimes a good thing, sometimes it feels like overkill) - add all this up and you start feeling like you're nature's super special little snowflake. But you're not. You're a human being. Special, just like everyone else.

Here's a brilliant metaphor (ha ha): I kind of feel as though our whole life experience is like a giant mullet. Biology's all "business in the front," telling you to pipe down because you're just a human, doing what you do best. But culture is all "Woo-hoo! Party in the back! Let's celebrate because babies are so freakin' awesome!" Allow me to illustrate:

Yeah. It's exactly like that. And that's what makes life so great. So I'm not complaining at all, or trying to be negative. It's an observation, more than anything. Celebrating new life is so much fun, and is part of our culture. But when I get to thinking about these things, it gets tough to write about. I'm just doing what my body has apparently known how to do forever, and it's really cool and awesome, and that's all I really have to say.

I haven't been completely wrapped up in thinking about biology (the party crasher!) and how un-special I sometimes feel (really! I promise that I do have a soul!) From the beginning, I've been keeping a little journal for this baby. It is interspersed with little doodles and fleeting thoughts about pregnancy. I often forget to write in it. But it is something. Here's an excerpt:

And I'll close with the thing that has been on my mind most lately, as I move ever-closer to the end: I'm really, really going to miss being pregnant. It has been so good to me.