Ramblings...

Many thoughts, many observations...

Today, finally, I saw a foot doctor. I have an inflamed foot, possibly a stress fracture, from all the weight. Nothing to be done about it except not to walk on it. So, what can I say? It happens to feel a little better these past few days which makes me happy. Otherwise, still with the heart racing, hot flush, difficulty breathing moments and I have resigned myself to this as technically, I have less than six weeks to go of this horror.

In other news, me and my guy (yes, he is now, "my guy", for want of a better term), went to see my friend's one week old baby. Firstly, the baby was so absolutely gorgeous. So tiny and a head full of dark hair. Secondly, the full reality of birth and what's to come hit me like a punch. I am starting to get scared about the birth. The way women talk about it. Like this pain that sends them into another universe. I just can't imagine it! I mean, what I do imagine is really bad period pain. The kind that had me crawled into a fetal position on my bed. Is that it? Or is it way worse so that as my friend did, you "scream like a banshee". Or was it "wail"? And this little thing that comes out. It seems so small, yet it is this perfectly formed human. I can't believe I have one of those inside me?!

Coupled with this experience, my guy and I were generously lent a smorgasbord of baby accouterments from his cousin. We now have toys, more clothes, breast pump, baby bjorn, car seat and crib and stroller to come. It was amazing. Yesterday I went through the toys and it was weird. For the first time, as I was picking and choosing, I was picking the toys I believed would be good for my child. It was kind of cool. Always I was responsible for other peoples' children. Now, my own. I am responsible for this human being. As I put the few toys I collected onto his second shelf (the first with his clothes), I shed a tear. It hit me a little. Again. The reality.

However, that said, the other day I went into a depression, thinking that maybe I will cause pain to my child and that maybe I made the wrong decision in having him? Maybe me and my guy will never feel comfortable living in each others countries? Maybe this little child will have a wounded heart one day? And maybe I will be the cause? All I can do, is hope for the best. That this child will be adventurous and brave and happy to be a child of different cultures. He is privileged. He has Israel, Australia and America to live in. He has choice.

And I have choice.

So, for now, I choose Israel and my guy and this little being, almost baked,

to perfection.