Yesterday my midwife told me that at this point in the pregnancy there is about 1000x more estrogen in my body than usual. This explains the heat radiating from me, and the inconvenient and illogical tears that well up even when I am NOT sad. Even when I think something is funny, my eyes are suddenly blurry with tears. Like when I told Matthew that I have a significant blindspot whenever I carry Wyatt on my belly now, and I trip over everything. Really funny, but suddenly I wanted to sit down and cry for an hour, even as I determinedly blinked the infernal moisture from my traitorous eyes.
This is a weird, intense season, and one that I am mostly handling ungracefully. At least it feels that way. My head is out of control, both with a whirlwind of hormone-fuled emotions, and also these primal urges to hole up in my house, gather my family around me, and never leave again until this baby is three months old. But even in this intense headspace, I’ve also been developing some habits that I really need to practice more, ones that are somewhat embarrassingly difficult for me. They have to do with my use of time, my need to either speed up or slow down, depending on the situation. I’ve been forcing myself to just sit down and be with my children. They are really needy right now, and want to crawl over me at any opportunity. Normally I crawl out of my skin with impatience, because these snuggle fests feel enormously unproductive, not to mention uncomfortable–it’s not like we’re actually even snuggling, they are just climbing all over me, mauling me, and smashing my belly. But in my attempts to slow down, let myself be with my children, I’m learning to savor the beauty of those moments, even though it’s not the beauty I would prefer. I’m also learning to speed up, to make use of the brief moments of freedom to accomplish even part of a task that needs to be done. I’m such an anti-perfectionist, or inverse perfectionist, that my tendency is to just not do anything because I know I won’t be able to do it the way I want. But the acceptance of imperfection and the willingness to do what I can during the time that I can do it, is actually making a huge difference in my house, and in my feeling of accomplishment at the end of the day (enormously important to an ENTJ like myself).
So really, as discontent and fraught with emotion as I feel, I also feel sort of way deep down, in my bones content. Like the turbulence of emotion is somewhat this surface-y thing in my brain, but at the root of it all, it is well with my soul.