I thought the next 2 months would be the perfect time to sneak in some short term work projects; to make sure the bank account doesn't deplete too rapidly before the arrival of Blob, and to savour the last few days of professional focus, before my life becomes a blur of diapers and sleep deprivation.
I am very thankful that I've managed to find a piece of work to fill some time. What I didn't count on is how un-charming a time in my life this is to be meeting new people and doing new things. I huff and puff up two flights of stairs. I can't be more than 100 metres from a bathroom at any given time. 8 months in, and garlic still makes me nauseous. Everyone is admiring my 'healthy glow', which I do definitely have. To everyone else, it seems to be a cheerful reminder of some sort of shared humanity. That's great, but to me it's mostly constricted capillaries (read: constant sniffling - imagine a 9 month cold, and spontaneous nosebleeds).
I'm always amazed at how many people gush over their pregnancies - that it was the most amazing 10 months of their lives, how they cherished every second....and with a bit of prompting, will also remember the nausea and heartburn, confess they didn't sleep for months, or were emotional wrecks, or had weeks of bedrest.
Philosophically, I'm having a fabulous pregnancy, and I understand what everyone gushes about retrospectively - it really has been grounding, made me feel centered and focussed on what's important, much more in touch with my body, and so on. But on a day to day level - it's relatively irritating to have to leave a workshop 3 times a morning because of some bodily function. It seems like every time I'm introduced to someone I'm ridiculously out of breath, and it's a good thing I'm not inclined towards passionate speeches, because I start panting after 3 consecutive sentences. I start squirming after 20 minutes in the same chair. Things itch, and twitch, and ache. For the first time since returning to South Africa, I see the appeal to kicking back and putting my feet up. I guess the lesson is that I should be careful about what I wish for; and a reminder to be thankful for what I get!
I am very thankful that I've managed to find a piece of work to fill some time. What I didn't count on is how un-charming a time in my life this is to be meeting new people and doing new things. I huff and puff up two flights of stairs. I can't be more than 100 metres from a bathroom at any given time. 8 months in, and garlic still makes me nauseous. Everyone is admiring my 'healthy glow', which I do definitely have. To everyone else, it seems to be a cheerful reminder of some sort of shared humanity. That's great, but to me it's mostly constricted capillaries (read: constant sniffling - imagine a 9 month cold, and spontaneous nosebleeds).
I'm always amazed at how many people gush over their pregnancies - that it was the most amazing 10 months of their lives, how they cherished every second....and with a bit of prompting, will also remember the nausea and heartburn, confess they didn't sleep for months, or were emotional wrecks, or had weeks of bedrest.
Philosophically, I'm having a fabulous pregnancy, and I understand what everyone gushes about retrospectively - it really has been grounding, made me feel centered and focussed on what's important, much more in touch with my body, and so on. But on a day to day level - it's relatively irritating to have to leave a workshop 3 times a morning because of some bodily function. It seems like every time I'm introduced to someone I'm ridiculously out of breath, and it's a good thing I'm not inclined towards passionate speeches, because I start panting after 3 consecutive sentences. I start squirming after 20 minutes in the same chair. Things itch, and twitch, and ache. For the first time since returning to South Africa, I see the appeal to kicking back and putting my feet up. I guess the lesson is that I should be careful about what I wish for; and a reminder to be thankful for what I get!
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