Sunday, July 02, 2006
~:W E E K * 2 5 * T U M M Y:~ Ever since coming back from our little vacay I've been depressed. I think the combo of returning to a lot of new calligraphy work (which was my goal, so I'm grateful), pulling together another set of PC syllabi for Summer quarter and looking at an empty nursey got me panicked. Not 10 minutes into pulling in the driveway, my fucking legs start to itch!! I am a wreck. A control freak. All this new and wonderful stuff that I've dreamed of happening IS and what do I do? Every few weeks, I freak out. Guess that's just how I deal. Funny thing is - I don't know I'm freaking until a bad dream hits to tell me I've got crap under the surface that needs addressing. Dreams are great that way. Or as Minus would say, dreams are cool like that.
One dream was about my legs itching while at PC. I'm doing a painting. Pacing back and forth on my feet. Really into the creativity. I look down and poof - I've got this basketball size blister on my ankle that's all gross and bloody - looks like a placenta. A student takes notice and admonishes me for standing on my feet. "You just can't do that now."
So I tell Doug the dream the next morning and he says, "Sounds like you think you can't be a mother and an artist at the same time." And I start to bawl. Which made me feel a little better. Just knowing the fear I'm not admitting to myself is empowering.
I panic about identity. The change of that. And my emotions are getting more and more intense. Last night Peter made me laugh so hard I almost wet my pants. It was wonderful fun, until those tears turned to real tears and it took all I had in me not to cry furiously at the table. It's really INTENSE and weird to feel so fully. It's all or nothing. I am a vessel. This organic creature, pulsing with life, anticipating a change I cannot fully prepare for. Who am I. Who will I be. What will change. What will I give up? What will I gain?
After all this figuring out of life in the second trimester, at 25 weeks, Doug takes me down the hill to take this picture. By the time we walk back up the hill, we are holding hands, I am out of breath and return to this house in Clayton to dinner cooking and my family waiting. Glo says she'll take me to target tomorrow to begin a baby registry. I'm giving her the gun.
Excited and joyful beyond description, powerless against the fear of this wonderful change, I remind myself that none of us are alone. And at the end or should I say, the beginning of this journey is Bimp.