Second Trimester

Fetus to fruit comparisons are as good a measure as any.  When I last wrote, in late September, at the end of the first trimester, we had a lime.  Now, at roughly thecoconut end of the second trimester, I’m going with coconut (I like the imagery, the song, and a good margarita).

It’s been a long three months.  We’ve made it though.  Three months to go.  What then?  Don’t know – my least favorite state of being.

Living with adult children – also not a favorite state of being.  Living with an adult child who has neither options nor prospects – really not good.  Living with an adult child you don’t trust – genuinely awful.  The pros:  We love her. She’s clean, she’s got great prenatal care, eating healthy, and we see no threat to making it to the coconut’s birthday in good baby/mommy physical health.  The cons:  It’s basically a hostage situation on a tightrope over an abyss in the dark with a totally unsettled weather front looming.

Living in a state of WTF is draining.  So, I’m reading and talking about mindfulness with some other women.  Up until a few years ago, I’d have said I had it going on – I excelled in practicing grateful, liking myself, handling stress with aplomb, maintaining and sharing a sense of grace.  Now, not.  The first thought I have in the mornings when I wake (on nights I actually sleep) is how long until I can go back to bed.  I’m avoiding making decisions, finishing books; I cry if you look at me (okay – that’s always been close at hand); I’m moody as hell; and frankly, bah humbug.  Strangely, however, I can’t stop ordering baby clothes.

I opened one of my mindfulness book-study texts today – the first thing I read brought me to my knees: there was another life I might have had, but I am having this one.

Yes, yes I am.

P.S. Our lime turned coconut…is a boy  blue-baby-feet-clip-art-at-clker-com-vector-clip-art-online-royalty-i16bfz-clipart

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