Moving Mia

August 14th, 2009

8 months pregnant

I was never what one would call graceful. I never floated on air like a ballerina, even though I did try to take ballet classes when I young. I lasted one class. As a child I would play "safe games" like Red-Rover but when the other kids said, "red-rover, red-rover send Laura right over", I eagerly ran through the arms of my friends and smacked into a wall hidden behind bushes. I had a huge gash on my nose for weeks. Needless to say, as a grown-up, I'm no better. Last year, I tripped over my seat belt as I was getting out of my car and my ankle still isn't quite the same. I've become accustomed to finding new bruises and scars and what's most disturbing, I can't decipher from all of the bumping into walls and tripping which bruise belongs to which stumble or tumble.

Lately, as my pregnancy progresses, sometimes I feel like a Sherpa that is carrying around an extra wide-load, while climbing Mt. Everest. Every time I stand-up from a sitting position I need to take an extra few seconds to steady myself because I can very easily topple over, just like Humpty Dumpty, but unlike Mr. Dumpty, I don't even need a wall to fall off of. Just walking to say the bathroom--because lately that is my home away from home, seems like a journey full of landmines. I have to be very cautious because one small move and I'm done. I know that because I'm carrying so much additional weight the laws of gravity are just pulling me forward, kind of like those toys called Weebles. Even the song, "weebles wobble but they don't fall down". Well, I'm the one Weeble that CAN fall down.

Walking is one thing but trying to pick up something I dropped on the floor is another endurance test. I was just eating my lunch and some bits fell on the floor, which isn't terribly shocking these days. What is shocking, is the energy I put forth trying to lower myself from my chair to the floor. I find myself having to breathe in a Lamaze-like fashion in order to pick-up a piece of wayward chicken. Why can't my food just stay on the plate or in my mouth? On the flip-side, although I'm clumsier than ever before and can no longer bend down or reach for things, the angel that is Mia inside my belly constantly reminds me that she's here. She is moving so much lately and for a mother-to-be, these movements are extremely comforting. She's even moving now as I write this. I can't wait to meet her after all of this time. I wonder if she likes chicken?