Wow these weeks are just getting shorter and shorter. There are times at work I am so tempted to sneak in a little posting time, but I've promised myself I'll be good. Consequently it's all quiet on the blogging front until Monday or Tuesday when I'm at home and Amy is sleeping or I am stealing some time.
But more and more all I want to do is nap and given the choice between the computer and sleep, it's hard to feel there's anything too interesting to say. I've hit that ridge between the second and third trimester where it is taking all I have to resist the headlong tumble into physical exhaustion and mental vegetation.
I really regret not writing down more of the experience of Amy's gestation and infancy, but of course now it's all coming back to me. The experience really creeps into the way you see and feel so gradually yet totally that it is everything and yet nothing. How many times can you say you are shocked by being so tired? What can you say when at 2pm everyday you virtually pass out on your desk in front of colleagues? How interesting is the 100th episode of primal hunger that leads you into the kitchen to stuff your face with whatever you can find, even though you don't feel at all excited about how it tastes? How accurate is it to list the various complaints and dicomforts that rule your days, but not necessarily your thoughts? How do I understand the drive to create in the face of that and my bitter diappointment that I just can't seem to get all the elements together to make it happen?
Because I knew it would be like this, I remember it being like this. It's normal, it's expected, it's what happens. And each time Imake comment about it I find myself rushing in to say the opposite - I hate being tired, but it's OK because it's what is right for what is happening to me. I want to be focused and productive, but I've let go of the anxiety that surrounds not being able to do that.
Perhaps I don't write about it because being pregnant is to me an inherently contradictory state. I willingly enter into something that takes me away from so much of what I love, I actually agree to feel unwell, to diminish my capacities and independence, to sap my energy. I do it because of all the great things that come from it. So you live with one eye for the joy to come and one eye on the difficulties you feel and it's very difficult to ever be able to draw that picture and feel like it's balanced.
So if I seem like a scattered lunatic, forgive me. I'm all over the shop but trying to be OK about that.