26 September 2010

brave little toaster syndrome.

today is my birthday.
i'm going into 26 feeling heavy and full.
blessed and excited, but full.
a week ago, my grandma's younger sister died.
friday night, my 16-year-old chihuahua died.
today, i am officially one year older.
and tomorrow marks five years since one of
my best friends passed.
and my son is due any day. 

i have spent the better part of the last two weeks settling into our farmhouse...
i've been moving at what feels like an incredibly slow speed.
though i do have a self-imposed "deadline"...
i'm trying my pregnant darnedest to get this place ready
(of course i understand he won't care too much about
 the state of his first home, but i do).
it has made me so very tired.
it's the same house i lived in when i was little.
but we have it looking completely different.

then, paul and i spent yesterday hosting a
pathetic little mini yardsale with our main intention being to sell
this antique bedroom suite of mine.
our new home is simply too small,
and i have enjoyed purging all the excess.
however, as i sat there yesterday, watching the cars go by...
most not stopping...i stared at the back of the vanity that has been
 in my family's possession for years
(though not an heirloom), and my heart began to ache.
i imagined it to be a person...
standing there on display, not garnering any attention.
no one wanting it. no one thinking it special.
i didn't even want it anymore really.
i saw it as homeless and old and sad and unrecognized
and empty and unappreciated.
over 100 years old and now a has been on the curb.
splendor lost.
i felt like i was casting away a friend
who had been there by my side,
and i cried.
why was i insisting upon changing everything
and choosing to part with something
i could have found a way to keep?
too much change at once.
a little part of me said "hold on a little longer"...
and i tried to explain it to paul...
how sad the furniture looked. how unwanted all the stuff must feel.
he said i was being riduculous and had
brave little toaster syndrome.
he was right of course.

now, i know i am sentimental, and i do feel that it is ok to "love"
certain things, things that bring you great joy and hold special memories...
prizes and treasures,
but i do realize how silly it is to become attached in such a way
that it should ever cause you distress.
stuff is just stuff...the furniture no more than wood and nails.
and there are actual people who deserve
the outpouring of my heart.
tears need not be shed over furniture.

it's just odd how your emotions seep out.
it really was all about change,
about being overwhelmed.
i was really sad about Dottie. sad about Derek.
scared and raw and exhausted
and hormonal (had to throw that one in there)...
and crying during our yardsale at the most random of times.

((and i just trapped a huge spider under a lid and don't have the heart to kill it.
i'm that emotionally confused right now.))

but, let it be known,
ready or not,
of all things crowding my thoughts:
my son will be here soon...
and, for that reason,
i feel a tremendous amount of undeniable, unmistakable joy.

PS. the furniture set DID in fact sell. a lovely couple saw it for all it had to offer,
all its potential, and now it is going off to live with a new family to love it,
restore it, give it new life and purpose.
hopefully, they too will pass it down when it's time.
i'm glad other people choose to own things with a past and a story.
i think we're all connected.

07 September 2010

an honest dose.

labor day.
sounds innocent enough.
tomorrow i'll be 34 weeks along.
34 weeks.
enough time for a life to be knitted together.

being pregnant has been...
to say the least.

i really had hoped to document the whole experience more.
to take more photos, write out more thoughts and discoveries.
i have managed to keep a simple time line of the when's and how's...
but i think maybe i've been busy living and thinking and feeling
and not as concerned with getting it down.
but i know i'll wish i had...
when this huge step is just another blurry memory.
right now, i'm in the middle of it though.
right now, he's moving my whole entire belly trying to get comfortable.

basically, since finding out we were expecting back in the winter,
it's gone a little something like this:
elation. bewilderment. unquenchable joy. fear. worry. doubt.
guilt. panic. excitement. even greater fear. relief. disbelief.
deep, deep love. anxiety. anticipation.
did i say fear?

i've cried over the Olympics.
i've tossed and turned in bed wanting cantalope so bad i
couldn't sleep.
i've dreamed dreams that could possibly be turned into full length feature films...
sometimes horror flicks.
i've felt too old.
i've felt too young.
i've felt beautiful,
like an empowered goddess,
timelessly connected to the women who lived before me,
like a vessel for growth and mystery.
also, i've felt like a water buffalo.
i have felt spiritually connected.
and emotionally drained.
i've felt so undeservedly blessed.
so, so blessed.
i've enjoyed the attention and pampering,
yet have gotten so tired of not being able to do absolutely everything i'm used to...
i've been tired of being cautious.
i've craved sushi and starbucks very badly.
i've had my mind completely blown by the wonder and power of God
and the intricate details of life and my body's ability to adapt and change.
i've felt time stand still.
i've felt time evaporate.
i've watched my feet swell and my belly grow...and not just my belly.
oh, no, the girls aren't giving up without a fight.
yet, somehow i've only gained 11 pounds?
i've conquered deep rooted fears.
and met new ones.
i've tossed and turned in bed with my back hurting so bad i couldn't sleep.
i've been depressed.
and felt guilty about being depressed.
i've felt like an alien spaceship controlled by a small, highly intelligent being.
i've felt alone.
i've been showered with encouragement and support and affirmation.
i've felt like i'm living out my purpose.
i've fallen more in love with paul.
i've mourned the death of the old me.
and embraced the new one.
and somehow realized i'm exactly the same
though things will forever be different.

no one told me about the hard parts.
i mean, beyond issues of comfort or inconvenience.
no one could have explained the good parts.
words don't even scratch the surface.
i guess i just needed to get some of this off my chest
and out into the world.

perhaps i'll go to bed now...
though i'll be up in two hours to use the bathroom again i'm sure :)