two months

post-roast strawberries

Two months.  Exactly.  Until the big day.  August 27.  The day.  The due day.  Two months until all of it.  Less than two months, more likely than not- Reed was a week early and this baby seems eager to be out in the world (to me, at least).

Either way, it is close.  It is close, and it is impossible to forget it.  This past week, week 31, things changed in one big swoop (all changes seem to swoop this pregnancy).  Suddenly, I am not in that breezy middle-part-of-pregnancy.  I am at the end.  And I feel it.  I feel it hard.  I need naps.  I have dizzy spells.  I’d like to put my feet up.  I’d rather not walk so far.  I wake at night.  For some reason, I am surprised by these things, surprised , even though looking back on it, it was very similar with Reed.  It just felt different then.  I think I was more ready then to let myself rest than I am now.  I wasn’t running around having adventures with a little boy all day, and I wasn’t trying to keep the tub scrubbed or the floors swept, and I wasn’t trying to rearrange the bedroom again and I didn’t have “projects”.  It is harder for me to remember to take time for myself this time around.  But I am beginning to realize that rest, reflection, and care are more important than anything I have on the “To-Do Before Baby” list.  How can I prepare my home if I can’t prepare my own spirit?

(It’s a balance, of course.  When Reed was born, the house was a disaster, but I was right and ready: heart, body, soul.  This time I seem to be swinging the opposite direction.  What I want is to be a little bit of both.  And I want to remember what is really important, and what lasts.)

Two months, everyone.  Two months.  Where has the time gone?

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