29 weeks. Third trimester. I feel like I’m dragging myself to the finish line.
It has been interesting comparing my first pregnancy with this one (at least from what I can remember). I didn’t read or write much when I was pregnant with my daughter. My brain couldn’t keep track of a single line of text. What I actually did is a mystery, but I do remember a dusty laptop and an untouched pile of books.
I assume the days were busy with anticipation. They must have been.
This time around, reading has been a solace. The tenth trip to the bathroom feels like a marathon run. I’m exhausted, can’t sleep, but I can read. I’m reading everything. Books on my bookshelf that have been calling to me for years. Business and finance books for some point in my future when I have the time and capacity to apply the knowledge. 1990s feminist text for some excellent writing project research. The stack follows me from the couch to bed and back again. Sometimes it’s like I’m rereading whole sections, not in a familiar typical rereading sort of way, but just a sense that I’ve been in the text before, an echo of sorts.
I do manage to get a short walk in there at some point to stave off the gestational diabetes (had that with my daughter).
While I’m walking around in a zombie-like cloud of pregnancy fatigue, my life continues moving around me. My family has been wonderfully patient as my stomach grows and my own patience shrinks. My daughter is talking more, bringing out some wonderful (if rude) phrases that I recognize coming from my own mouth (Oops…). My husband cleans the kitchen for the twentieth time in a row. And the little boy in my belly gets stronger and stronger. I’m just waiting for the elbow to jab its way across my stomach. Any day now.
It’s a slow season. I’m impatient and tired and cranky. It all feels stretched: time, memory, fortitude. I’m anxious and excited. There’s a lot going on. I only cried twice this week, so I’m calling it a win.
There have been a lot of wins, really. I do what I can while I rest my body physically. My mind has been sharp (enough). Revisions are underway for Marredbury and one other project. I’m looking forward to seeing what I can get done before we have a newborn dictating our daily lives. This season of rest has been a time to play and plan. The plans are big and optimistic. Future me may not appreciate the tracks I have lain for her. Then again, we’ll be lucky if she even remembers making them. It’ll be a lot of work, but I am excited for what the future holds, for my family and my writing life.
My daughter is happy to announce each morning how the sun is shining through the windows. My spring allergies come and go. We have enjoyed the chirping of the birds, taking walks after dinner and basking in the warming weather. Spring is here, but my life seems to be settling into a winter, a kind of hibernation. The kind where things are happening, but you don’t always see or notice.
The juxtaposition is not lost on me. I actually kind of like it, slowing down as the world around me is walking up. Making time to smell the flowers and all that other mumbo jumbo.
So you will find me on my couch in the coming months. I’ll be here for a while, a book in my hand, several more close by. I hope you too find a moment to slow down this spring. Pick up a book that may take some closer reading to get through or wander your neighborhood until you discover a block you have not walked before.
‘Tis the season really.
I’ll be around over the coming months. A rerun email here, a few new thoughts there. The fogs will lift eventually. My personal winter will end and bloom into an exciting spring.
It always does.
Even if I don’t remember how it happened last time.
For now, I’m off to enjoy baby kicks and toddler cuddles.
Filed Alongside this Entry:
You can’t get a more wintery vibe than Jane Eyre. Madeleine Dobrowski is doing a serial read of the novel at Love of Literature.
A cozy winter reading list (a bit more contemporary than Jane Eyre) by Shelley
Keith Long’s spooky and experimental fiction I look forward to reading more
Listen: Journey Through the Seasons by Welcome to the Almanac
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