The time right before you have a baby is very special because if you have kids you know how much harder life is going to be for a long time as soon as the baby is born, but you don't want to be pregnant anymore. You feel gigantic and uncomfortable but you also feel this little baby moving around in you and it's kind of nice to have him in there because he is safer inside your body than he will be out.
As you finish getting everything ready for him to arrive and you look around and relax a little feeling like you are prepared, you think about enjoying these last short weeks before the hard work starts.
My kids tell me I am mean a lot. I wonder if it's true. Am I mean? I think I am sometimes. I don't want to be mean.
Allie posted to Hyperbole and Half again after a really long time: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/
She is a really talented artist and good at talking about depression. I find it most interesting how people who have never struggled with depression can't understand it. I look at my kids and I don't want them to ever understand that kind of pain but I also wonder if they already know about worse pain than I can ever imagine.
I think they probably do. My friends with divorced parents have been kind to me - offering what I can do to be a good parent instead of focusing on how painful it is - but they assure me it is an agonizing pain.
I like to believe that there is total order to this world. That it is perfect and when I don't see the perfection it is because I'm viewing things strangely as opposed to letting go of my fixed position.
Akiva Tatz' book Worldmask tells us that the physical world we live in is not "real" at all. Indeed, at this stage of pregnancy one does not feel she is living in any "real" world but daydreaming every moment of the day. The physical and spiritual tasks ahead are too large to digest and the brain fogs.
I look at my children, how they bear the strange changes in their mother and love me still, believe in me still - when I go to sleep before them or wake up after they have gone to school. I look at my husband, a slightly estranged best friend who is always right there for me but must worry so much - or I would if I were in his shoes. I want to go dancing with him and enjoy our last few weeks before the baby comes but there is no energy or grace left.
I wonder who you are in there and I long to meet you but I love that I get to hold you every moment right now and that for just a short time more you are mine alone.