Yes, it’s been a while since my last update. I wish I could say why, but I’m not entirely sure.
We went to South Carolina to see Mom, brother Jimmy and (soon to be) sister-in-law Maggie, as well as friends who hosted and attended a baby shower for Mariel.
I’ve been working with David Miller and the rest of the Matador team to finish writing the curriculum for MatadorU, our new travel writing school that launches soon; collaborating with travel friends at SoSauce to host a party in Brooklyn (check out photos of Francisco on the grill here); updating Collazo Projects’ Flickr photostream with photos from the past year of travel; writing a couple of pregnancy/parenthood related articles; and celebrating the release of The Voluntary Traveler, a book to which I contributed a chapter.
We’ve also managed to squeeze in lots of local NYC culture and fun.
And lest you think we’re already bad parents before we even birth this baby, I’ll relieve your fears by saying that we took the Intro to the Birthing Center class (which kind of left me in a dither, so irritated I didn’t even want to write about it), have started prepping our birth plan thanks to a friend who gave us hers as a template (and lots of solid advice), and are scheduled to take some more childbirth classes at the end of this month.
But really, that’s no busier than usual, so I don’t know how to tell you why I haven’t been writing.
I think it may have something to do with other pregnancy blogs. A couple of women whose blogs I’ve been following for the past few months recently gave birth to their babies. Overnight, their blogs went from musing about what it would be like to have a baby to having had the baby and entered into full on postpartum doldrums. To be candid, they scared the daylights out of me. As I was lying in bed last night, trying to fall asleep, I thought: “Will we be psychotic?”
Not surprisingly, I couldn’t fall asleep for hours. When I finally did–around 7 (that would be AM)–I had crazy dreams.
Every day we inch closer to the moment where “before Mariel” ceases to exist. There’s nothing sad about that, but it’s a bit overwhelming, that thought. “I know what you’re thinking,” a woman said to me as I waited outside the grocery store for Francisco the other night. “You can’t wait for the pregnancy to be over.” I just smiled at her, but no, that wasn’t what I was thinking (I was actually thinking about a cyclist who’d just been killed by a car about a block away, which is probably why I had a distant, inaccessible expression). I wasn’t even thinking “Are we ready for this?” I wasn’t thinking “Hurry,” or “When?” or “God, we still have a bazillion things to do before she’s born” or even–as I’ve thought so often lately– “I wish fairies would show up and clean our apartment.”
I was, I think, just being in that moment.
And that’s what pregnancy has been for me: the opportunity to constantly be in this moment, a place that’s always been hard for me to be. As I watch my belly do a baby’s version of the Wave or feel my side tightening with her daily growth, where else could I be? And really, what more could I want?