The purpose of this blog was to record things I didn't want to forget and to help work out problems taking up too much space in my brain, like Dumbledore's pensieve. I'm not sure where this falls, probably somewhere between.
Of all the normal problems of pregnancy (and babies, for that matter), the reality of the not-sleeping cliche has to be the worst -- the way every time I get into bed, it's just a thin mockery of real sleep that keeps me there until 2 or 3 am when I give up. The thought that giving birth will do nothing to fix this doesn't comfort.
I will probably never be pregnant again. I wanted to enjoy what was left of my pregnancy, to focus on the magic of it. Sometimes I still do. The foot sticking out of my right side, the hard butt pushing out of the left side of the bump. The strangers stopping me in the middle of a K-Mart to offer unsolicited advice or bizarre stories. People telling me to "go for a long walk" to get labor started, because they don't realize how much walking and yoga and everything else I've been doing for weeks. The excitement of the unknown. The smell of the newborn diapers and tiny laundered clothes just poised and waiting for the sweet little boy to wear them. The way thinking about anything like this almost overwhelms me with emotion.
But god in heaven I am tired. I don't know the difference between the sun and the moon, and just holding my head on top of my body requires the strength of Hercules.
