January 2016 was meant to be devoted to resetting – mostly resetting my house and business life. But it ended up being a different kind of reset. I managed to knock several things off of my list. I finished the semi-annual fridge clean-out. I wrapped up tax stuff for 2015 both personally and for Cry Havoc. And, I got everything ready to go for this semester’s teaching. Shortly thereafter is when the curve ball came roaring across the plate.
In mid-January I was dutifully clearing away stacks of boxes and other crap from our epic December guest-room-clean-out. Being almost four months pregnant, I knew I shouldn’t be doing some of the heavy lifting I was. I took a break and noticed I was spotting. That’s never a good thing when one is pregnant. I’ll skip the details of the saga of the next six days, but it involved blood, two sonograms and two trips to the hospital. No one could ever figure out exactly what the cause was, but I was put on bed rest for about 10 days. That’s when this whole pregnancy thing suddenly got real.
I have a tendency to go-go-go until I end up sick or exhausted. I’ve done that since I was a kid. Now that I’m carrying a kid, I evidently can’t do that (nor can I lift 40 pound boxes repeatedly). So, while I didn’t get the rest of my house reset to the way I’d like, I was forced to take time to reset me and to think about being pregnant. There was a lot of time to ponder life (and binge watch five seasons of Grimm). Here are a few things I thought about:
- Someday, I’m gonna die. I’ve often lived my life on the edge and have enjoyed every minute of it. I have thought that if something happened to me, my husband would mourn and move on with some sweet young thing, and he’d be fine. But my daughter needs a mother. At least for a good 20+ years. So, I’d better start doing a better job of taking care of myself and staying away from the edge I so love.
- Up to now, I’ve been adamant that I’ll go back to work at my part-time teaching gig right away. That means my approximately 7-week-old bundle of joy would go part-time into daycare and I wouldn’t take the typical 12 weeks to recover from squeezing a melon out of me. I’m starting to think that’s not such a good idea. I waited 39 years to get married and was working in our hotel room at our beautiful destination wedding. Looking back, I regret that immensely. At 41, I’ve waiting a long time to have a child. So, maybe this go-round I should take the time to enjoy the ride.
- The level of animosity in our country is out of control and it scares me for my daughter. Everyone is pissed off about something. And all that vitriol is splashed daily on Facebook and in the news. I’ve started to realize how icky it makes me feel and have noticed I’m now avoiding anything but cat memes. In a more immediate sense, it makes me question living in Dallas proper. I’m quickly moving toward my husband’s dreams of moving to the country and living off the grid.
- There’s a very real possibility that Donald Trump will be president. Someday, I’ll have to explain to my daughter how that clusterf*ck happened. I’m sure it has something to do with the previous bullet point. But that’s no consolation that we may very well elect a man who will start World War III.