For the most part, Rama’s right. But I suspect he’s been watching me and my pregnancy with cartoon hearts in his eyes.
I definitely don’t think I’ve been as graceful as he’s made me out to be, and I’m not just talking about my wind-up-toy waddle. Too often I find myself without patience, restraint or tact. Sometimes, I just feel miserable—a lot of times for no particular reason—and poor Rama, try as he might, can’t do a thing about it.
Every time I do find myself complainy or cranky, I try to take a look around myself. I see the sweet home that we have begun to make for ourselves. I think about our dear family who have been so generous with their love and support. I have a comforting conversation with one of my darling friends and I remember I am not alone.
Whenever I start to get nervous—about labor & delivery, about becoming a good mother, about making enough money, about nurturing my marriage—I remember the families in the Philippines who live in shacks on the side of Mayon volcano. If they can make a life for themselves, well gosh, so can we.
When all else fails, I remember that this is what I’ve wanted my entire life: To be a mother, to have a family, to create a home for us filled with love, laughter, color and warmth. And now it’s happening. It’s really happening.
This new journey is not going to be easy, I know that. But it will be an adventure, and I am ready as I’ll ever be for the beautiful, wild ride.