waiting

 Amongst all the projects of to-do and busywork I tend to occupy myself with these days (and want to post about on this blog), I realize that sometimes I'd like to just be. Just be here, just rest and listen inwards, and try to find the words that describe what's flowing underneath the surface of the everyday.

There has been a definitive few days when the progression of this pregnancy entering this new, third trimester felt tangible. I feel heavier. New emotions are arising subtly but strongly. I dream about breastfeeding. I dream about my baby, and wake up feeling how much I yearn for him. And then I keep busy to ease the waiting feeling.

Just like right at the beginning I tend to rise really early, naturally - which feels unusual and new because all my life it was always difficult for me to wake up in the morning. I'm not - or I haven't been - a morning person. I always thought if only I could make a living out of sleeping in, I'd have such an amazing and lucrative career... but now it's different. At the crack of dawn I come to slowly, sometimes to the gentle kicks in my belly, sometimes just so, and by the time I'm done with turning from side to side in bed it's still only just gone five thirty. So I get up, quietly and naturally.

I'm usually nice and rested. It's blissful sitting in the quiet kitchen or on the balcony by myself - well, myself and the little person with the kicking feet and little stretching arms inside. I take in the morning air, the northern summer sun already shining quite high in the sky, birds darting around or answering echos. Just this ease of being awake in the world feels so good.

During these mornings while it's so early, I don't sew or wash up or do busywork. I usually read a little, from blogs or from the baby book, or write, or just sit somewhere and think to myself, or listen to songs like this...

And then, there are those mysterious tears of these early mornings. They seem to come on like a sigh deep from the chest, spurred by emotion and quite possibly hormones. They bothered me for a while with their regularity and their spontaneous triggering, but now I just let them flow. I stop while they are done with their overwhelming and while I can't see what I've been reading or writing through the tears. Nobody else is here to judge, or to ask questions, and I don't want to explain or quiz these tears much. They seem to just come to be part of these early morning times with myself. So I just let them flow. They feel like tears of happy, of yearning, of release, of letting go, and more.

I hope you don't mind me sharing this while I pause with all the crafting projects a bit. It feels nice to say these words, to tell how strange, how mysterious and how good it feels to be waiting for baby.

By the way, I'm still just about able to see my toes when I look down.