I’m reading a book on Confucian philosophy, and my first reaction is to think that I should photocopy key passages and send them to President Bush and other politicians who clearly have not read much eastern philosophy. Then, in the midst of my superiority complex, I think to myself, “Oh, really? Do I really think I have nothing to learn from these texts? All of Confucius is clear to me, I only need to read this so I can pass it on to others who are sorely in need?”
I awoke this morning, about 20 minutes or so later than usual, although that’s not so unusual, as I am still a very sleepy girl. The “I am being drugged by my unborn child” fatigue is over, but sleepytime is cherished, happy time for me still. What pummeled me awake was the shape and feel of my stomach as my hand drifted over it. My belly was hard and distended! Aagh! The usual thoughts ran through my head: “Am I having a miscarriage? Is the baby freakishly large and growing at an inhuman rate? Should I call the doctor or just sprint to his office in my pajamas?” I lay in bed, caressing my newly large belly. I didn’t feel bad; I couldn’t recall anything in the books about Sudden Onset Showing. Maybe this was it; I would, from now on, Be Showing. Well, fine by me, it’s about time, I say. I (slowly, so slowly) slide out of bed and carefully hold my belly as I walk to the bathroom. Once finished at the toilet, I sat for a minute. “I wonder…” One quick feel of my again soft and supple midsection and I was no longer Super Mom with the Incredible Growing Baby. I had just had to pee.
The moral of the story? My body is starting to freak me out.
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