I just want to document an anomaly in my life. I have absolutely zero anxiety or depression in my life right now. I do worry about things for like... two minutes, and then I stop because there's no practical benefit to be gained from worrying. I do sometimes get a little sad, but I'm back to normal within a few hours or at worst a few days. I wake up feeling rested after an appropriate amount of sleep and I even wake up by myself somewhat early in the morning. I have no physical complaints besides those brought on by pregnancy. (Yes, I'm still nauseous and often sick.)
Are people allowed to feel this perfectly in mortality? I don't mean that I feel as if I'm perfect; rather, I feel perfectly contented. It's nice, but I think somewhere deep inside I figured such calm contentment must be reserved only for heaven. Or something. That secret belief was probably a natural result of dealing with depression and hypothyroidism for seven years straight.
(Seriously, if I had ever felt this good in college or even in high school, I'm sure I could've gotten a 4.0 GPA and gotten better scholarships and made more money and socialized more and... I would have been too awesome. And I don't think that's exaggeration, because only needing 6-8 hours of sleep--rather than 12-18 hours--every night for optimal performance is kind of a big deal.)
So, what I mean is... I'm not really worried about ANYTHING. Not seriously, anyway. Sure, I might muse, "Huh. That could be a bad thing." But that doesn't last long, and soon I'm left thinking, "Oh. Well, that particular scenario is highly unlikely and there is no way I can possibly prepare for or prevent that. I'll worry about it if it happens, and only if it happens." And then I go back to feeling peaceful within a few minutes.
Yet I don't feel careless or unmotivated. Nor do I feel detached in any way from the world or what I'm experiencing. To the contrary, my friends! I feel much more connected to everything. I feel as if I am getting more joy out of hobbies. I am getting more joy out of my husband. More joy from my sister. More joy from tasty noms, when I feel as if I can eat them.* More joy from the living room I tidied days ago which is still decent-looking. More joy from a warmish bath with bath salt. More joy from experimenting with my hair, even when it ends in disaster.** More joy from finding out something cool while browsing the Internet. More joy from social interactions.***
I go to group prenatal care every two weeks. (This involves a short time alone with the midwife, then we all meet together to learn about pregnancy and labor and breastfeeding and all that stuff. We also socialize a little.) I've noticed that, well, really... I seem to be the least worried person there.
I'm not worried about labor so much. I feel as if I've gathered all the information about it that I can... and really, while that information will be useful, there's really no way to really prepare for childbirth. Sure, I can read about what it feels like, but I figure I won't actually figure out what it feels like until it happens.
I feel the same way about breastfeeding. It's either going to be easy or it's going to be frustrating or somewhere in between. Sure, I've read up on it... but what I really need is practice. And then I'll know how to do it. Or perhaps, I'll be frustrated out of my mind because it isn't just happening the way it's supposed to. But that doesn't worry me too much. I've got all the resources I need. Millions of lactation consultants who spend all day, every day troubleshooting breastfeeding are available at all hours of the night. I could even get a house call if I needed it. (There are benefits to living in hippietown.) And if all else fails, Pterodactyl won't die of starvation because there's this thing called formula available.
And childcare? Again, I don't feel like there's going to be any way I'm going to figure out the secrets of childcare until I suddenly have this tiny, helpless creature to take care of 24/7/365. Yes, I could be faced with the horrors of a colicky baby. And then I'll have to deal with that, and it will be hard, and I will probably cry lots and feel inadequate or something. But really, there's nothing I can do now about the possibility of dealing with colic. I've read stuff, but I stopped reading it when I stopped gleaning new information from things I read.
The weird thing is, I almost feel bad for not being worried. (You know, for about five minutes before I dismiss that thought and stop worrying about that too.) Isn't it some sort of maternal responsibility to find things to worry about and then do something about it? All the other moms are doing it. But... what am I supposed to worry about, huh?
I also briefly worried that because life is so good right now, that must mean things are about to get pretty awful and unmanageable. I'm not sure mortality actually works that way, though. And if it does, I feel as prepared as I'm ever going to be, so that's not worth worrying about either.
So, since there's nothing to worry about, I guess all that's left is to wait. And that's not particularly torturous. I am eager to meet this Amelia-Pterodactyl creature. But I don't feel impatient.
I am also super curious to know if I will actually think she is cute as soon as I see her. I mean, it seems to me that newborns are almost universally kinda ugly. And then they get cute in short order. But they don't start out that way. Look, it's a screaming purple lizard.
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| I'd be more apt to name this Pterodactyl than Amelia. It does look kind of like a dinosaur. |
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| This, however, should definitely not be named Pterodactyl. This deserves a name like Amelia. |
Jenna and probably-Amelia (Pterodactyl)
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*As if on cue, I suffered punishment for publicly announcing that the nausea was almost absent. Yesterday kinda sucked. However, it's not all that discouraging at this point, so it didn't really affect my mood at all.
**For instance, I've never done rag curls. I did some last night. This morning when I undid them, I realized I must have rolled them too tightly. I had crazy woman hair when all the rags were out. Then I tried to fix it, only to end up looking like Shirley Temple after a lightning strike. I find this kind of funny. And besides, I at least figured out something NOT to do next time I try rag curls.
***I still don't feel like I've found soulmate-type friends, but I have at least found friends I am content to sit around and do nothing with. Or rather, I often sit around doing nothing besides watching them do other stuff. Or listening while they talk.
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