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Friday, November 19, 2010

Pendulum Pregnancy: Bipolar and Expecting: "Aye Me... Sad Hours Seem Long..."

Pendulum Pregnancy: Bipolar and Expecting: "Aye Me... Sad Hours Seem Long...": "Act I Scene I William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet (A ripe comparison to the last days of pregnancy... in my humble opinion). LADY MONTAG..."

"Aye Me... Sad Hours Seem Long..."

Act I Scene I William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet (A ripe comparison to the last days of pregnancy... in my humble opinion).

116 O, where is Romeo? saw you him to-day?
117 Right glad I am he was not at this fray.

118 Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun
119 Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,
120 A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;
121 Where, underneath the grove of sycamore
122 That westward rooteth from this city side,
123 So early walking did I see your son:
124 Towards him I made, but he was ware of me
125 And stole into the covert of the wood:
126 I, measuring his affections by my own,
127 Which then most sought where most might not be found,
128 Being one too many by my weary self,
129 Pursued my humour not pursuing his,
130 And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.

131 Many a morning hath he there been seen,
132 With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew,
133 Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;
134 But all so soon as the all-cheering sun
135 Should in the furthest east begin to draw
136 The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,
137 Away from the light steals home my heavy son,
138 And private in his chamber pens himself,
139 Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out
140 And makes himself an artificial night:
141 Black and portentous must this humor prove,
142 Unless good counsel may the cause remove.

143 My noble uncle, do you know the cause?

144 I neither know it nor can learn of him.

145 Have you importuned him by any means?

146 Both by myself and many other friends:
147 But he, his own affections' counsellor,
148 Is to himself—I will not say how true—
149 But to himself so secret and so close,
150 So far from sounding and discovery,
151 As is the bud bit with an envious worm,
152 Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,
153 Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.
154 Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.
155 We would as willingly give cure as know.
Enter ROMEO.

156 See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;
157 I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.

158 I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,
159 To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.


160 Good-morrow, cousin.

160 Is the day so young?

161 But new struck nine.

161 Ay me! sad hours seem long.
162 Was that my father that went hence so fast?

163 It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?

164 Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

165 In love?

166 Out—

167 Of love?

168 Out of her favor, where I am in love.

169 Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,
170 Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!

171 Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,
172 Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!
173 Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?
174 Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.
175 Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.
176 Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!
177 O any thing, of nothing first create!
178 O heavy lightness! serious vanity!
179 Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!
180 Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health!
181 Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!
182 This love feel I, that feel no love in this.
183 Dost thou not laugh?

183 No, coz, I rather weep.

184 Good heart, at what?

184 At thy good heart's oppression.

185 Why, such is love's transgression.
186 Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,
187 Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest
188 With more of thine. This love that thou hast shown
189 Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.
190 Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
191 Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
192 Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:
193 What is it else? a madness most discreet,
194 A choking gall and a preserving sweet.
195 Farewell, my coz.

195 Soft! I will go along;
196 And if you leave me so, you do me wrong.

197 Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;
198 This is not Romeo, he's some other where.

199 Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.

200 What, shall I groan and tell thee?

Poor Romeo has fallen out of favor with Rosalind and heartache is an impenetrable sadness. I know...I know, you're thinking "get over yourself Romeo (insert my name here). Stiff upper Lip!" And under your breath "...self-absorbed little whiner..." -

Take three steps back and remember...I am sure that you can empathize that the "sad hours" description is most apropos in describing the desperation... the waiting. It is Prison-like, really. Romeo is debilitated by heartache while we very pregnant mommas are debilitated by longing, braided with immobility/insanity and lack of patience(I'll speak for myself). I AM Mary Queen of Scots...locked in the tower. I can see the beautiful green vista beyond the window, but cannot feel it... cannot bear another waddle to the bathroom for an ungratifying pee coupled with cramps... cannot fathom another yank of my maternity trousers over the bulbous lump housing the treasure. Elastic is the enemy. Bras need to be burned! There is no need for extra support... the swollen girls rest beautifully on the bowling ball,where my lungs once resided, housing her fetal positioned bottom, knees and feet. She's floating in salty suspension, simply awaiting the perfect wave, I suppose. Little surfer.

Three trips to maternity triage later... one preterm labor with passing out spells that kept me on monitors and IV for 24 hours, one 4-1-1 contractions session that seemed the real deal (fizzled after about three hours), and one concussion-stimulated contractions session (soup pot fell off the pot rack and warped my forehead)... I have sworn off ANY midnight hospital trips until I am absolutely sure; only, I still don't really know what that means. "Aye me." These truly are sad hours.

The sweet irony here, as pointed out by my dear friend Jean Jeanie is simply this: after all of the complications that threatened premature labor, low birth weight, placenta previa, losing consciousness coupled with plummeting blood pressure, she now seems to feel right at home. All sevenish perfect pounds of her, nestled against a 90% effaced cervix with no dilation... may need to be gently evicted.

Check out this read to research natural ways to induce labor... keeping in mind that NOTHING will work until the little one is ready, and it is safe. The body knows.

And while you are at it... may I recommend an AWESOME, affordable camera to capture all of life's delectable moments... the Holidays ARE upon us (I just came to this realization having escaped the "woe is me" shroud for one, sweet second). Check it out:

Fondly, on fragile knees...
Amanda xo