An 8 month pregnant wish...

Sometimes I wish I was pregnant. Not because I want anyone other than LO - I don't, he is the most precious person to us already. Not because I envy my pregnant friends the wonders and magic of pregnancy - I made my peace with that a long time ago. But because right now I'd be eight months pregnant and I think people would treat me differently.

I know that there can be some shocking oversights in day-to-day life; people not giving up their seat to a pregnant woman, for instance. But on the whole I know that pregnant women are treated with a kind of reverence. They are allowed outbursts of emotion. They are expected to be tired and overwhelmed at times. They are asked tenderly how they are feeling, sometimes by complete strangers. Others get caught up in the magnificent energy they exude and smile at them, say 'not long to go now!' (I witnessed this whilst away with my friend a few months ago, everyone we met whilst walking the dog smiled and spoke to her about her big bump.) They leave work amidst a flurry of cards and presents. They have blessingways or baby showers during which friends and family toast the good news and offer advice and gifts.

I know this attention might be unwanted at times, and I'm sure there are moments when every pregnant woman wishes she wasn't carrying around a big sign saying 'I'm about to have a baby! Talk to me about it!'. But there's something about being an adoptive mum that makes you feel a bit...well, invisible. You don't want to tell lots of people in case it falls through at the last minute. You're expected to carry on as normal until you meet your future child. Outbursts of emotion and general exhaustion are seen perhaps as moodiness, irritability, and at worst, irrational. In some cases, people are embarrassed by adoption - the elephant in the room being why you've chosen that route - and they avoid talking about it altogether. Others are furiously opinionated about adoption today, about the prospects for children whose early life is blighted by difficulty. Finally, there are those who ask impossibly impertinent questions about the birth family, without seeming to think how it might feel to answer those questions. The birth family is an endless curiosity box, pored over by people intent on sharing their opinions (I have refused to answer questions on this subject, other than the bare neccessities). I have been told many times, by people who have never been through it, how incredibly difficult, time-consuming and invasive the adoption process is - rarely have I been asked what it is really like (not that bad, actually, until the last chapter).

Sometimes, I would like someone to smile at me, say 'congratulations! Not long to go now! You look amazing! Radiant! Sit down and have a cup of tea, let me help you with your bags...here, have a tissue, it's perfectly normal to have a cry.'

Now, wouldn't that be magic?

A personal blessingway...

I'm writing this as a way of not writing the 6000 words I have to hand in at 5pm today as part of my post-grad course. I have written 3000 so it's not total disaster but still kinda nerve-wracking. I come from a long line of self-employed journos and we seem to only be able to work when we're wired on coffee, pulling our hair out and watching the clock eat up the minutes...

Our SW is coming on Thursday to talk more about the little boy she's got in mind. His SW is off on holiday for two weeks on Friday so we need to get in there quickly. I haven't told that many people - some close friends, my sister - but not our parents, as I think if it fell through it would be too much for them. There is another couple, but they're out of county, so it looks like we might be first in line. But then that made me feel sad and guilty for the other couple, probably as excited as we are right now.

At the weekend, my friend's sister and I held her a surprise baby shower. I've never really been hugely into these because they seem a bit grabby and synonymous with our capitalist culture, so we aimed to make it more of a 'blessingway' (though I did notice one card with a pregnant woman on it saying 'Dream...Plan...Shop'. Really? I mean, for f's sake, isn't there more to preparing for parenthood than frickin shopping?!?!). I decorated a little tree with cut out hearts in different colours on which the guests wrote their wishes for her little boy/bump - Love, Abundance, Besos (from the Spanish contingent) etc. I also asked guests to bring along their favourite children's book and there were some absolutely magic memories there! Plus we got her a lovely sling that has lots of different positions, including one for breastfeeding. All in all, a very special day, and it was a treat to see her face when she came in the room!

It's a funny thing though, her 'blessingway' made me think about the plans I had drawn up for mine - bump painting, making garlands for the birth, gathering together different things friends had drawn strength from during their own labours/early days - from nettle tea to a precious stone etc. It seems a bit odd to have one as an adoptive mum, and I can't quite get away from the idea I'd feel a bit fraudulent. Without a bump to rub, and a birth to prepare for, I think I'd feel a bit of a spanner to be honest! So no 'Dream...Plan...Shop' cards for me, thank GOODNESS!!! On the other hand, as I mentioned in a previous post, I am going to do some kind of little treat for myself to celebrate nearly-motherhood - perhaps going away somewhere quiet and planting a tree; taking out a day to swim and eat good foods and write in my journal; making my own little wishing tree or book for our child; even going away somewhere for a night and having a massage and some reflective time...my own personal blessingway.