The In Between
I’m writing to you from a neighborhood coffee shop - ‘clocking in’ for likely the last time until this baby comes.
For the past eight weeks, my work has been limited to teaching one class per week in exchange for the self-proclaimed title of “Summer Camp Program Director.”
I’ve had a lot of fun spending virtually every day with Hudson. We’ve enjoyed beach days, pool time, family travel, BBQ’s, park hopping, museums, and endless playdates.
I know I’ll look back on this summer with so much fondness, and yet I also know we’re both craving the routine and structure of school starting next week. (Or, expressed in 5 year old vernacular: “Mom, I’m just having a hard time with you today.”)
I’m finding myself in between all sorts of feelings right now. Grateful for the time I’ve had to savor this only child season; eager to step into the next chapter and meet the new person who will become a big part of our world.
Missing my regular clothes and wearing anything other than biker shorts and loose dresses, yet mourning the thought that I’ll likely never experience the wonder of pregnancy again.
Ready to step into the cocoon of newborn days, yet apprehensive about how we’ll all adjust to the intense demands of a completely dependent human entering our lives.
Pregnancy carpal tunnel that flares more each day, an exhausted pelvis and lumbar spine, poor sleep, swollen everything, heart burn most nights, and energy levels that are diminishing by the day; yet incredibly proud of how my body has carried me through these nine months and the strength I feel heading toward birth and postpartum.
Yearning for the version of me whose heart-rate doesn’t spike after one flight of stairs, feels light and agile, and is increasing (instead of decreasing) her deadlift load; yet hopeful for a very connected postpartum experience, and even excited to witness my own evolution for the second time.
Transitions are quite taxing for me. I don’t shift gears quickly or easily. Yet I trust this transition is transforming me in worthwhile ways, and one-day I’ll be able to see them.
Until then, I’ll keep relying on practices that center me: movement for grounding connection, self-compassion for the moments I find myself wearing thin, and leaning on the solid support of my people whom I’m grateful for every day.