My head is somewhere out there in the maze of pregnant euphoric women. Lately it’s been hard staying focused in the things I used to love. I still love to do them, but I’m finding harder to keep them on my priority list. It happened with the Golden Globes broadcast. I never miss this. But the truth is we didn't even see the list of movies nominated. I usually stay on top of these things because I love films. I love a good story. My friend had to remind me that I was pregnant. And I said to her "please don't ever let me go this far." I don't want to lose the essence of me.
Let’s take writing for example. This has taken a back seat in my daily routine. If I’m not online reading about cloth diapering –it’s as confusing as it is challenging to understand the endless possibilities out there for cloth diapers- ordering nursery items or relocating furniture or even deep cleaning the contents of the hallway closets, I’m too exhausted to sit down to write anything, let alone write any fiction. I told myself when I first found out I was expecting that I would finish a fiction workshop and have at least 2 short stories written by the time the baby was born. But it didn’t happen. Then came the impossible to-deal-with symptoms of the first trimester that kept me groggy and nauseated all day long.
Let’s take writing for example. This has taken a back seat in my daily routine. If I’m not online reading about cloth diapering –it’s as confusing as it is challenging to understand the endless possibilities out there for cloth diapers- ordering nursery items or relocating furniture or even deep cleaning the contents of the hallway closets, I’m too exhausted to sit down to write anything, let alone write any fiction. I told myself when I first found out I was expecting that I would finish a fiction workshop and have at least 2 short stories written by the time the baby was born. But it didn’t happen. Then came the impossible to-deal-with symptoms of the first trimester that kept me groggy and nauseated all day long.
Now that I’m six months pregnant, other priorities are keeping me away from the pad and pencil. Exercising has suddenly become important. Also this nesting feeling has overtaken my entire awake hours. And reading about childbirth and raising a kid has overshadowed any desire to get lost in a good novel. There is so much to do in these last three months around the house. Putting fresh colors on the walls, building baby furniture, re-arranging furniture and creating new layouts. It seems too much for two working parents and yet is there any other choice? Some people live their lives in compartmentalized units in their heads. I can’t do this. But ultimately I know I should get cracking on that workshop if I’m to finish that shriveled old short story that has been weighing on my head for the past 6 months.
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