is hard. I am trying to focus on the joys of being pregnant - the opportunity to carry a child while so many struggle; the communion with my animal spirit as I experience something so primal; and the embracing of my female self as my womb grows and I watch the changes in my body.
Yet my focus seems to return to the negative. I can't go to Key Largo because I'm saving my leave time... I'll likely miss the wedding of a dear, dear friend because it's too far away, to close to my due date... I can't unwind from a series of rough days with a glass of wine or four... I'm tired from waking up to pee, to comfort my 3 year old, to think about this and that and the other...
I feel like being pregnant should entitle you to more: You should get more vacations! Bigger bottles of wine! To sleep for 10 hours each night! Hey, why not throw in double the pay check!?
I'm 17 weeks and my belly is about the size of a vollyball - bigger than 17 weeks with Sophie - and this pregnancy is harder. No doubt it has something to do with chasing a 3 year old around, but it's also affecting my body differently. I'm growing so quickly and have had shortness of breath, sore muscles, and oh the exhaustion! Second trimester has been more difficult than the first, which I was not expecting.
I'm overdue on letters, phone calls, library books, and I know there are a few unpaid bills laying around the house.
I'm generous when I say my eating habits are fair, as I just polished off leftover fettuccini alfredo from Applebees, and my breakfast is usually a granola bar as I run out the door.
I stare at my clothes, blinking repeatedly, hoping that another pair of pants will magically appear since I wore my only two pairs already this week... and the week before... and the week before...
And while I suffer from complete denial in most things (my garden, the fact that it's January and not March) I am completely aware that adding another child to my life will be at least twice as hard. I try to think of ways to keep Sophie feeling special and loved and the light of my life, but don't know how much time or energy I'll be able to put into this early on, and I fear I will let myself down.
And speaking of light of my life... I should say lights.
Roy has been wonderful, allowing me lazy Sundays on the couch with tea and Harry Potter, fixing dinner and baking cupcakes with Sophie.
Sophie has taken to using words like "appropriate" and "hexagon" and singing songs like "twinkle twinkle little underwear" and talking about what she loves. "I LOVE Blueberry Muffins!" "I LOVE cartoons!" "I LOVE dresses and skirts!"
I actually wrote this post yesterday over my lunch break. And it's all still true, but a good night's sleep and an impending 3 day weekend has brightened my mood - not to mention the fact that it's supposed to be nearly 50 degrees and we have plans to spend the afternoon at the park.
I had a short but wonderful conversation with a dear, old friend last night. He has known me since I was probably 4 years old and our relationship blossomed as I grew up. I lived communally with he and his wife, and he has played a very important role in my thinking. When I told him I was pregnant he got very quiet and said, "AM, you have brought me to tears." He went on to say that while that he never had kids, he gets very emotional when he hears about the people he loves having babies. "Our world can handle it" he said to me. "We just need to take care of her."
He's right. And I can handle it, too.