Toward the end of last year, I was on a rollercoaster—a mental, emotional, and physically taxing rollercoaster. While my highs and lows may have been a result of (or at least exacerbated by) my pregnancy hormones, they were still very real. My condition, plus other situational factors, just amplified the issues and wounds that had been festering for awhile.
October was particularly difficult, and I started writing about it in my “october… (pt. one)” post. I had fully intended to publish a “part two,” but at the time, I didn’t have the strength or mental capacity to continue on with it.
Yesterday, the sun came out for what seemed like the first time in weeks. It melted most (if not all) of the snow around our house. There’s something magical about snow—watching it swirl around in the outside air… and getting excited when it actually sticks to the ground. Even though it’s one of those beautiful miracles of nature, I needed that melt yesterday.
I was never really a big fan of cold weather anyway, and even less so now in my postpartum condition.
I was tired of the grey… tired of cold… just tired. I needed the sun, and the healing energy of its warmth.
While I was pregnant with Caroline, Collin and I found out that we had to move; the owners of the house we had been renting wanted to sell. Even though the thought of rental hunting at eight months pregnant made me a nervous wreck, it would end up being a cosmic blessing.
Let’s just say that our landlords had not really been interested in being landlords, so to be free of them was a great relief. We also ended up finding a place for a lower monthly rent and in the most perfect location near my older kids’ schools.
The new home was A LOT smaller, though, so it would really force us to start paring down. At the time, I was reading Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up at the suggestion of a few friends.
The book’s philosophy on decluttering helped us go from shelves upon shelves of books to just the essentials (You’re welcome The Last Bookstore). We figured that if we REALLY wanted to read one of our books again, we could check it out of the library. (Did you know they still have those?!)
Seriously? Never did I think that I would still be pregnant seven days past my due date. Four days? Sure. Six days? It’s happened before. But seven? HMMM… I have to imagine the ultrasound tech or doctor got my date wrong. Especially for my FOURTH kid?! Bananas.
Well, regardless, here we are. I have an induction scheduled for tomorrow morning; I have to be at the hospital at 7 a.m. I was fortunate enough with the first three kids to avoid the need for drugs, so I’m a bit bummed that I might have to take something to induce labor. I’m pretty much hoping that by the morning, my body will be in a good enough position to just get things going with a swift break of the water bag. I say “hoping,” but truthfully, the word, hope, gives me pause these days. Ever since I heard Rachel Hollis speak at the 2019 Rodan + Fields convention, I reactively flinch whenever someone says “hopefully” or “I hope…” or something similar. During her talk, in relation to business (or making your dreams come true), Rachel blew my mind with five words—hope is not a strategy.
Here we are, two days after my due date, and we’re still waiting to meet our little babe. I genuinely thought that this fourth child would come earlier than the others, but apparently not. (clearly still have a ways to go with this intuition thing) And that’s okay. Even though I’ve already begun to go stir crazy, I have been able to be semi-productive in other ways…
The first day home from work, I did my nails, finished the last season of A Girlfriend’s Guide to Divorce, and almost finished Good Omens (have since finished it and it’s great—recommend). I also picked up the book, “A Spectacular Catastrophe,” again and made some headway. I may or may not have done a load of laundry, as well (baby brain). It’s a good bet, though; I’ve been doing at least one load every day. I’m trying to stay on top of these things now, as I know there will be a day (any day now) that I will completely neglect laundry and potentially most everything else that requires even a modicum of attention.