Roller Coaster

Williamsburg, 2012

Williamsburg, 2012

It's pretty easy to set me off onto a crying jag these days. One comment, or a scene in a movie, or a line in a book and there's this tidal wave of emotion (negative, positive, overwhelming) that has very little to do with the trigger.

Of course, it's most likely hormonal. But the science of why doesn't do much to temper my emotions when they're midstream.

When people ask me how I'm feeling, I usually assume they mean physically. But so far, the physical demands of pregnancy have been a walk in the park compared to the emotional ones.

It's hard to articulate without sounding as though I'm struggling. I swear, in any given moment, I'm perfectly content, and even blissfully happy. But then in a second I experience all of these really powerful thoughts and pregnancy feels like the hardest thing I've ever done.

Suddenly, I'm reconciling thoughts about my own childhood that hadn't occurred to me in 25+ years.

I'm acutely aware that now I am our baby's family and history. It doesn't feel like that history is something that begins in August. The baby is here with me now, thumping away at my insides, and he is already who he is. There are already three of us. The wheels are in motion.

Every decision feels that much more intentional. Is this the apartment we bring our baby home to? Is this the emotional environment we bring our child home to? It even occurred to me the other day that our 7 year old cats will one day die and that our little boy will experience that grief. It's inevitable.

There's that sensation, and then there's the sensation that there's so little I can control.

The baby's not even born yet and I can't protect him from city pollution and construction dust and crazy world events.

Take all of that and mix in a dose of awe and elation and Christmas Eve-level excitement and I can't-stop-looking-at-babies-on-the-street and you have a window into how I feel in any given moment. It's pretty wild.

Gin and Tonic

Singapore, 2011

I would really like one.

Tomorrow we have our first anatomy scan and might know if it's a boy or a girl. So that's exciting.

The last couple of days have been rather stressful though. I've been in a tizzy over real estate, mumbling to myself like a crazy person about how ridiculous the prices have gotten in our neighborhood.

The answer, of course, is that we probably shouldn't move if it's causing anxiety, but the cloud is there nonetheless.

When I'm not muttering and cursing about absurd price per square foot statistics, I'm lamenting my terrible housekeeping skills.

Perhaps hormones are making me more scattered than usual, but I seem to be able to accomplish only half of any useful task. I wash our clothes, then forget to put them in the dryer so they start getting musty and I have to begin the process all over again.

Or I buy wholesome groceries and then feel utterly unable to do anything with them, resulting in an English muffin and banana for dinner.

I tried to do something nesty last night and made banana bread, which turned into a disaster. I did it in a sort of haphazard way and forgot the salt, eggs, and baking soda. I managed to mix them in at the eleventh hour but the results were kind of sad and slab-like. I am really not a baker.

All in all, kind of cranky, but I am sure it will lift.