Having a pregnancy that lines up with a pandemic has been an interesting ride, to say the least. I’m constantly asking myself, is this my pregnancy talking or the pandemic? For example right now I’m craving fall more than I ever have before. I’m usually a summer girl through and through (this might also have to do with my fear of Chicago winters) but in normal times I do my best to stretch summer as long as possible and not take the warm long days for granted. Summer is fleeting, I remind myself, must enjoy every single second…
But this year? This year I am begging for fall. I want the fall scented candles, the cool mornings and nights, hell I’ll even take the gross pumpkin spice crap I don’t actually drink, just give me fall. I can’t decide if I’m craving this because fall means I’m closer to my November due date, or because any day in the future feels like a little glimmer of hope of being closer to the life of “normalcy” we all once knew. It’s got to be a little of both, right?
Everyone says enjoy your pregnancy and don’t wish time away, but what about when your pregnancy is in a pandemic? Are we allowed to wish for time to hurry up then? Don’t get me wrong, there’s some positives to be pregnant in 2020, like the whole social distancing thing. Between you and me, I’ve always preferred that people remain six feet away from me. Especially in places like grocery lines or at Target? Yes please, back up off me. I need my space.
I’m also to the point where strangers are starting to comment on my stomach in public, which leads me to believe in non-pandemic times I might be getting to that place where people think they could even touch my stomach in public… As a standoffish person (who like I said prefers my space) the thought of people actually doing this is pretty crazy to me, so I guess that’s another positive of social distancing.
But the mental game of the last few months has been particularly draining. It’s weird to feel the urge to constantly sleep and find any type of motivation extremely hard to come by. I look forward to 6 p.m. on the couch every night like it’s a trip to Tahiti. (I’ve never been to Tahiti but I bet it’s as cool as my couch.) Again, is this pandemic or pregnancy?
As for actually delivering during a pandemic, well I try not to think about that too much. My doctor has told me to “prepare for the worst” in terms of no visitors for a while, wearing a mask, and doing whatever else 2020 demands we do, and so that’s exactly what Chris and I are preparing for. Hoping for the best, preparing for the worst… Just wanting a healthy baby girl in our arms and doing whatever that may take.
Oh 2020, what a year this has been. Maybe we’re all allowed a little hall pass right now regarding not living fully in the present and wishing just a little for time to hurry up toward better days. (Or maybe that’s just my pregnancy speaking.) I blame the heat. And the swelling. By the end of the day my legs feel like fifty pound sausages. Is this normal? Tell me it’s normal.
I’m going to leave this image here and be on my merry way. My merry way back to the couch, hoping dusk will come early tonight.
