I’m still nauseated and vomiting, although it is much less frequent. I feel like how I felt in weeks 6-8 of the pregnancy, before the mother lode hit. Although annoying, God has given it to me as a comforting side effect to trust that all is well in the oven. I have to say, I don’t know how I’m going to gain all this weight I’m supposed to. I read somewhere I’m supposed to gain 12-14 lbs this trimester. I’m trying, but it’s a lot harder than I thought! To most of the world, I don’t look pregnant. But I’m still proudly wearing my maternity clothes because it helps me feel more pregnant.
I’ve had some great email interactions with our donors over the last couple of weeks. They are a Godsend. I had read somewhere that even though I’m not the genetic mama, I am the biological mama. This baby and I are physically and biologically connected. My blood, oxygen, food and water intake, all flow to and through this baby and the placenta. We are intertwined. Whatever I do, it affects this baby. That’s a powerful responsibility. And yet, there is still this vacuum between us. This cavern I cannot fill. We do not share genes. I will not be able to look at him/her and marvel, oh, you have my ears. You have Daddy’s eyes.
Yes, that’s a little bothersome. But that is just something you have to get over when you adopt. We did with our son. And yet, he resembles and reflects us more every day. No, he doesn’t have Mommy’s lips. No, he doesn’t have Daddy’s nose. But yes, he has Mommy’s demeanor. And yes, he has Daddy’s sense of humor. He makes the same gestures and mannerisms we do. Who he is mirrors us. If he grew up in any other home, he’d be a totally different person.
I believe that about this baby.
I relayed all of this in an email to our donor last week. Her response back was priceless. She said that although it took her several years to decide to choose adoption, several years to come to grips with the fact that this wasn’t one of her children — she wasn’t giving away one of her kids — this was a totally unique person, when God introduced us, it felt right. She calls this baby “my” (as in yours truly) baby. She doesn’t say it’s “her” baby, or even “our” baby. This is mine. She doesn’t claim any ownership or right to this child. She knows, just as I do, that the children she has were a gift from God just as this child is. Sure, they share the same genetics, but that doesn’t make a family.
It was reassuring to hear all of this. I’ve never doubted she felt that way, but it’s just nice to hear.
So, now, I’m in the business of really trying to connect with this child. It’s funny. I thought having a baby in my belly would make it so much easier to feel bonded. It doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s a boy or girl, and I haven’t felt any movement that I can recognize. I’m hoping knowing the sex, and feeling the baby move, will help solidify a connection. I’m not necessarily worried about never having a connection. As soon as our son was born, I was bonded. I would have laid down my life for him. I’m sure I’ll feel that once this child is born. It would be nice to feel it sooner.
“And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.’ Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.’”
Luke 2: 8-14