How did I miss this?

Sunday-quiet, chilly, calm. Grey, overcast, breathe.

First, an update: Those wonderful hormones, Relaxin, that make your muscles and joints turn to jelly so delivery goes easier backfired on me this week. I pushed the dutch oven with my instep and as Newtonian Physics would assert, my hip went in equal proportion backward, and with those lovely jelly joints, I separated my pelvis and popped the cartilage.  The good news is: it went back together. The bad news: it's sore. Walking sucks. It's been nearly a week and I can only get around for about 15 min. before I need to sit and get the 6-7 lb baby off of those muscles.

I hate to sound like a whiner, but it certainly sped up the "I am so done with this" sentiment. BTW, I totally hate that I can't be honest about how I'm feeling without people shutting down as soon as I mention I'm in pain. I won't go on a rant, but our society has little patience for weakness, pain, and hurting. Find yourself in the electric cart/buggy at the grocery store, thankful for the technology, and just *see* the way our society looks down on it. It was all I could do not to start crying, wanting them to understand that I'm 9mo pregnant with a separated pelvis, instead of the looks of complete disdain I got for daring to be weak enough to be one of "those people."

For a little positivity, I've purposely switched from thinking about my due date as being 2.5 weeks from now and instead thinking that I have 17 days left. The larger number has made me less anxious and I can focus on *not* going into labor during Thanksgiving ;)

The blog today is very Goddess heavy. Fair warning.

And now for the music:

Nine Months
Three Trimesters
Neatly sliced and dated

That's not quite true
Dates are irrelevant
1st Trimester=getting adjusted, hormone change, uncertainty/worry
2nd Trimester=the good life, baby moving, nice pretty baby bump
3rd Trimester=uncomfortable, uncertainty/worry returns, shuffling walk

Yet another glorious display
Maiden, Mother, Crone


...
 I came to this realization when I was behind an elderly lady with a walker, going down the ramp. Her friend, a more mobile, elderly woman looked at me like she half expected me to go around, to be impatient...as we young folk tend to do. I smiled and said, "I'm not getting around much faster these days." She laughed and (of course) asked me when I'm due. I have a hard time answering that...so I laughed and replied, "not nearly soon enough." She wished me well and we went our ways. But in that moment I realized how similar those last few weeks waiting for the transformation through life are to the transformation through death.

I spend most of my day wondering when I'm going to go into labor. Curious if it'll be today, or weeks from now. Very much like elders have told me (and you, as well) in the poignant statements of "it may be my last birthday" or "When you get to be this way, no one comes to visit anymore..." They recognize that they're approaching the end, they've made peace, they're in pain, yet after a few visits, people don't want to hear that they're in pain, no one understands the uncertainty of not knowing when this inevitable thing is going to happen. So they (and I) distract ourselves with TV, books, activities, chatting, while trying to take it easy, not accidentally pull a hip apart, effing tired of laying on the couch and sitting around.

We fill calendars with things that happen at specific times, yet birth and death, the ultimate transformations, give no RSVP.

With this, you can see how easily the rest of the Trimesters line up with the Maiden and the Mother. The cycle repeats yet again. As the moon phases, as the life grows, as the crops are harvested, so is She in all of the cycles.

...
If you made it this far, you deserve a funny. I told Spanish Moss about how *everyone* asks me when I'm due...

Me: Today the lady at the commissary checkout asked me how much longer until I have the baby.
SM: You should have told her, "Aisle 7"