Transitions

Not even two weeks into blogging, and I’m already behind on my schedule.  I used my “backup” post earlier this week, when a new post rambled on and on and then begged for a few days to sit and rest before I came back to it and whipped it into shape (which still hasn’t happened).  With a busy few nights ahead, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stay entirely on track.  Bummer.

Normally I’d get into this sort of situation via some good ole’-fashioned procrastination.  Fortunately, that’s not the case this time around.  The past few days I have been absolutely exhausted, which I think—I hope!—means that our little Peanut is having a major growth spurt.  (Happily, this also justifies further online maternity shopping when I am too tired to do anything else.)

Case in point:  On Sunday what I expected to be a thirty-minute nap after breakfast turned into four hours of utter disconnect from the world around me.  Last night I fell asleep on my couch at 8:30PM.  Eight thirty.  Post meridian.  Eastern Standard Time.  I looked at my watch mid-doze and was flabbergasted. If it weren’t for the little person growing inside me, I’d say my body was making up for all the times I stayed up past bedtime as a kid (which was pretty often, right, Mom?).

In a couple of ways, I feel like I’m reverting to being more like a child as this baby grows.  I need snacks, I need naps, and sometimes I need to have a good cry.  The only thing left, I guess, is to grab a coloring book next time I’m at the store and do my best to stay outside of the lines.

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I realize that there are greater changes to come, most of which I could never completely prepare for.  But in the meantime, I’m enjoying the ways I’m learning to slow down, take better care of my body, and start to think of someone else first.

Especially before I started showing, I could forget from time to time that I was pregnant.  That’s increasingly less likely these days, courtesy of my ever-growing bump and the blessed enthusiasm of friends and co-workers.  I find myself more and more anxious for this little guy or girl to just be here already (and I’m not even 20 weeks along!), but I’m trying to appreciate this opportunity to gently get used to the idea of someone else being the most important part of my life (besides John, but he already takes good care of himself—and me!).

Maybe it’s because I’ve only experienced the milder effects of pregnancy, but it seems to me that this time is truly a great gift, and great preparation for what’s to come, in many more ways than just physically.

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