It's 4:10 in the am and I have given up... on sleep, on dreams, on control. Sounds irrational, thoughts usually are around this time.
Over an hour ago I was awoken (or is it awaken? honestly, grammar is at the bottom of the totem poll right about now) by the routine reminder that my bladder is intensely full. I try to muster up the gumption and motivation to roll from my right side, to my back, and then all the way over to my left side, then attempt to tumble my body over the edge of the bed, in hopes that my feet hit the floor... will I land it? I'm like an eight month pregnant gymnast with the agility of a turtle planning her dismount... no, I'm not looking for the gold, just the toliet. It's perplexing to me how difficult a task this has become for my body... it's as if I've come face to face with the summit of Mount Everest...
I feel heavy... physically... mentally.
And in those less then twenty routine steps to the bathroom, I've thought as many as a hundred fragmented thoughts that I don't know what to do with...
"you should probably just give up music"
"you don't have a car seat yet... but you already signed that paper at the hospital that you would have the seat, properly installed in your car... you gotta get on that, like, NOW!!!!"
"how many rolls of toliet paper do we have left?"
"If you don't take that meeting in New York next week you can likely kiss that opportunity good-bye... but what if you give birth on the airplane? do they do epidurals on airplanes?"
"what's happening to the thighs?"
"BABY CPR... that is important... YouTube it"
"Hey, all the underwear is in the dryer down in the garage, they've been there since... last week-ish... seriously, what are you gonna do when you have kids"
"oh c'mon, you know you can't give up music"
"the curtains in the nursery would be so cute with that pom-pom garland sewn on the edges that I saw on pinterest"
"Girls with Glasses..."
"you're probably never gonna sleep again"
"if you actually practiced the guitar, you'd probably be decent at it"
"maybe dave would appreciate something other then frosted mini wheats for dinner"
"you haven't read the scriptures in a long time"
"and... why do you keep buying lettuce, you know you're never gonna make the salad"
"remember how you paid $80 for pre-natal yoga classes... haven't been in over a month"
"you probably can't put the baby in the van with the band and drive around the country... but you can't leave her... you'll figure it out"
"Is it my turn to 'draw something'?"
"you are almost a year away from 30"
"I could be a way better friend... never called Monika"
"man i miss friday night lights"
"you're having a baby"
"maybe you should bolt the windows shut so she can't fall out of them"
"American Idol was crazy"
"I know I can do this, but can I do this?"
"luckily Dave is so emotionally stable"
"this bathroom has been cleaned like twice since you moved in"
"things will change"
"it's going to be hard... you are going to LOVE her"
Seriously, all of that. I turn my head to see that ugly clock light glowing in the dark... it's 3:02 am, looks like the un-purchased, uninstalled car seat will have to wait until the morning... but it is morning... Let's give it a couple more hours, or at least until Target opens... 8 am.
After unloading what felt like less then a mere teaspoon of tinkle (sounds silly to say tinkle, but I don't love the word 'urine' either), I stumble back over to the bed, and gear up to get back in... position the body pillow on the left, the small pillow on the right, the tempurpedic pillow under the king pillow and then try to nestle somewhere in the middle of it all, one of the pillows falls overboard, do I have it in me to pick it up? My head says try, but my hips say no. After nearly twenty minutes of readjusting and tossing too and fro, I realize that likely there is no comfortable way to do this. I look over at Dave, he is sleeping hardcore... I stare in envy. It is one of his gifts... it is not mine. I am happy for him... sleep while you can my dear, sleep while you can.
I lay there for a while, wrestling more consciously with those thoughts... and, I don't know. I just don't know. And I try tell myself that it is okay that I don't know. I try to be okay with being okay with not knowing. And then I realize I'm not, but that it's nearly 4 am, and perhaps this is not the best time to try to logically have it all worked out, nor will there likely be a good time. I'm not the first soon to be parent worried about how I'm going to do it, and I won't be the last... So I get out of bed, and here I sit, typing a blog that potentially I will read back when I'm in a more coherent state of being, and wonder why I thought it was a good idea to blast all these thoughts into the blogosphere. I'll want to delete it, but then I won't...
I'm looking out the window, and the sky is becoming brighter. I already feel better.
Jack wrote this song called "Heavy but we float"... and in this moment, in one of my heavier moments, I am weighed down by nearly thirty extra pounds and a world of fears and unknowns... I feel this lil' person moving around within this belly, and with her small swift kick there is this thought "what you really don't know is just how much you are going to love her"...
And I'm so thankful this is happening.... and I'm floatin'... like a feather.
