I've been trying for a month now to find words for what I'm feeling. Since there is absolutely no missing the baby belly now, I get asked how I'm feeling at least once an hour. My habitual answer is 'great.' And I am. This has been a very easy pregnancy for a desperately wanted baby. I got my wish for a girl, and she has a name. I've knit her a few things and sewn her the cutest little gown. She has two quilt tops that are *this close* to being quilts. Its amazing. And wonderful. And, well, great.
And yet... this preparation? its alot of work, isn't it? My wonderful friends and family have planned baby showers. Three of them, in fact. So, the registry had to get done and so many decisions had to be made. I was amazed by how long it took. And what will be her bedroom has been my work room and our general storage room. So, before I can get to the joy of decorating the nursery I have to clear out that room. And I'm not really sure what to do with that stuff, not to mention that her father and I don't necessarily agree about whether one large piece of furniture can stay in there with her.* Plus it gets harder and harder to bend over to clean things out. And this has been generally not. fun.
That's not really it, though. No, I am not enjoying all the cleaning and reorganizing. I hate living in the cluttered maze of furniture and boxes that inevitably fill up the house during a transition like this. But, I've done it before and with much better grace. In fact, after some help putting together a big bookshelf next weekend, I probably only need another hour or two to have things to the point that the room can be painted. And then my sister is coming to spend several days helping me set up the nursery and create a work space for myself downstairs. I should be feeling relieved and getting excited about the fun part now. And I am. Kind of.
This feels different than just my environment is in disarray. It is different. The fact that her basted and marked quilt is sitting here without a stitch in it nearly two weeks later, two weeks in which of done plenty of couch sitting, says alot about how much inertia I feel. And yet, I am excited about this baby and the fact that she'll be here in 11 weeks or so. I am.
So, a month after I first tried to write this post, and I still can't find the words.
I'm blaming it on the hormones.
*Let me hasten to say that he's said it goes, if I say it goes. He's not arguing with me over anything I want to do. Its just that he's repeatedly asked why it has to go, whether we'd really be able to find something smaller that would still serve the purpose and 'just why are we moving that big thing again'. I know he both believes those things and really doesn't want to move it since it will be a serious pain in his rear, and while I really want it out of there I'm not sure he doesn't have a point. We've agreed it stays until the baby furniture is in there and I start trying to arrange it. If I can't make it work in a way I'm happy with, he'll get rid of it.
adorable fabric on the clearance table + an urgent need to have it become a gown for my little girl = antidote to my fear of sewing knits
