This post, I promise, will make sense in the end. It will come across as slightly scatter brained and all over the place, because it’s but a reflection of what happens when you encounter someone you haven’t seen in awhile, someone who has so much to say that they can’t begin to be mindful of things like coherence and order.
I’m nesting. I figured I should start out with that because it, or nesting, is kind of where I’ve been. I’ve been nesting and everyday that I consider coming online to say something about my approaching due date or my children or my writings, Home Depot calls.
It called yesterday and that’s why the materials to complete a DIY repaint of a laminate coffee table sit on my bedroom’s dresser as we speak.
I never did get to that DIY project.
Instead, like any normal person would, at 5AM, I began thinking about my second daughter’s completely blank baby book. I had to complete it.
So, I did…almost.
I couldn’t find that certificate that hospitals often give with your baby’s feet and handprints in my file cabinets, however, and that led me to rethink those cabinets completely.
I didn’t plan to sort through six years worth of old bills and doctor’s notices and knick-knacks that didn’t seem to fit anywhere else in our house, but I did just that…yesterday morning, afternoon, and evening. Seriously.
I did eventually find that certificate, in case you’re wondering, but by the time I found it I was literally knee deep in shredded paper and the mess that ensues when organization projects are witnessed by curious and mess-thirsty toddlers.
Do you know that feeling? That nesting feeling? The one where you know that you are behaving irrationally but can’t seem to stop because stopping would mark the defeat of you getting done what you need to get done?
I think it comes from anxiety mostly, anxiety about all the things you can’t control when you give birth to a child: its health, physical appearance, how labor will progress, whether it’s a boy or girl (because after two girls, the world believes it MUST be a boy!), how your two toddlers will adjust to a new life with a new baby and new you.
These things, you realize, in the final weeks, are things you can’t control. So, what do you do? You obsess and misplace your anxiety.
You meticulously handle the things that you can control.
You buy a new replacement lens.
You spend time online, daily, looking for breastfeeding-friendly nightgowns. You place said nightgowns in your shopping cart but stop at the thought that there may be one out there better than the one in your bag.
You pack and unpack the hospital bag and often do research the hairstyle you’ll be wearing as you exit the hospital and into your new life as a parent of three.
Instead of writing an actual coherent post, you redesign your blog’s header for the millionth time and create new blog categories.
Why do you do this? You do this because these are things you can do and fix and obsess over and fix again and obsess over some more.
I won’t be around here much when I give birth to my third child, or maybe I will… Or maybe I just don’t know. I know you know that but I’m speaking aloud the thought that floats around in my brain when I think about the uncertainty about what will come next for me after the baby gets here.
I don’t know…this baby’s gender,” I have to say at least five times a day when random strangers ask. “I don’t know…if this will be my last child,” I have to smile and say when, in looking at my two toddlers and big belly, store clerks wonder if I plan to stay in babyland for long. “I don’t know…what will come next,” I say this to myself of course, because no one ever asks even if they assume it. I don’t know, but I feel like I should say that it will be good. Because it will be good, right?
Even if everything changes, I’ll still be certain that uncertainty will be followed by undoubted certainty. Yes, that I can be certain of. Well, that and having three children and having a fabulous nightgown. Perhaps.
I said this would be an all-over the place post, and I think I’ve delivered…not the baby in my tummy but on my promise.
p.s. I wrote a list of all the things I’ve done this pregnancy on account of nesting. If you’re interested, you can find it here, on MommyNoire.