It was a fun filled weekend - Jeff's parents came to visit, and we packed our time accordingly - baseball game on Friday night, pedicure and shopping (the ladies) or beer festival (the lads) on Saturday, takeout Thai food and an evening on the patio (Saturday night), lovely dinner with friends on Sunday. So why did I spend much of Sunday in a funk? The thing that no one ever told me about, and therefore the thing that might just be isolated to me, is how pregnancy sometimes makes me feel like an observer of my own life, where I exist in the periphery, trying desperately to engage and failing more often than not. I find myself feeling utterly superfluous, wondering if anyone would even notice if I slipped off to a corner somewhere to read.
When Jeff, trying to help, asks me "well, please tell me what you'd RATHER be doing" all I can do is look at him blankly, with the rather lame reply that honestly, the most appealing activities to me lately have been curling up with the New York Times and a glass of iced tea, going to yoga, or just…sitting quietly, thinking. Yeah. I am a laugh-a-minute kind of woman these days.
I am, by nature, an introvert, but I've always enjoyed quality time with friends and family. I adore entertaining. But lately, I feel myself disconnect from what's happening around me as I turn inward, my energy and focus and drive moving to the presence of this little baby whose kicks and flutters and turns both startle and comfort me in equal measure. I find that I do best in smaller groups, so that dinner with friends remains enjoyable, but in a larger crowd I feel myself floating away, unable to add to the conversation and (perhaps rudely) unable to even pay attention to what people are saying.
When discussing this with my mother on Sunday afternoon, she pointed out that perhaps this is a natural self-protection mechanism, which was something I hadn't considered before (and isn't it just the absolute gift of mothers everywhere to point out the obvious when you need it most? Thanks mom!). It makes sense, though, that at a time when you need extra care that you would crave the safey of a quiet space. Or maybe it's just me. Regardless of the cause, I hope that friends and family alike can overlook my detachment and know that I'm sure to come slamming back to reality in just a few months time, but for now, I'm afraid I'm hopelessly in the clouds.
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