Waiting For Something

I don’t know what to do with myself.

It’s not an entirely bad thing. It’s not stressful, per se.

But I’m essentially waiting for my entire life to change.

Soon I’ll be living somewhere else.

Then I’ll be waiting for my water to break, to start having the worst pain in my life, to go to the hospital, to give birth, all of which I have no idea how to conceptualize in any realistic way.

When that’s all done, there will be a newborn. My newborn. I will be a mom.

For now though, there is a messy bedroom. Occasionally I’ll try to assess how to pack the rest of my things. But mostly I just lie in bed trying to get comfortable.

So far tonight, I’ve tried sitting through two documentaries, both of which I didn’t finish.

I tried to read a book.

I ate a little food.

I looked at the clock and it was 7:33 PM.

I feel restless and tired at the same time. I don’t want to have to do anything, yet maybe that would help somehow. I could focus on a task that must be completed in the very near future, knowing it had to be done in order to get to the next step. That next step being “The Change”.

My guy is across town at his house and while it makes sense, for selfish reasons I wish he were here. Someone to talk to. Someone to acknowledge the weird limbo that is waiting for your child to be born. For your entire life to be turned upside down.

Instead, it’s Sunday evening and I’m idle, my last week of work in front of me. A job I’ve had for the last eighteen months. Maybe that doesn’t sound like a long time, but it is when each of those months is measured in the form of a life. A baby that was four and a half months old when I first held him to a twenty three month old toddler who runs and plays and points and laughs and is now a little person.

The end of a year in this apartment. The end of a six year streak in Chicago. The end of a life that consisted of social engagements, friend dates, performances and events.

I’m trying to come to terms with all of this. That even once this pregnancy ends, my life will be tied to another, new life. Even if I came back to everything just as I’d left it, I will be the difference.

So maybe it’s OK that I’m a little bit paralyzed, a little bit unsure of what it is I’m “supposed” to be doing right this minute.

Because this is new territory, albeit temporary, too.



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