When I started blogging again, it came from a wont to document the ins and outs of pregnancy but there were other reasons, too. There had been an underlying urge to reignite some kind of creativity for a while. I just didn’t know what that would be, or how I was going to do it. I don’t know quite why the urge took me when it did. It’s hard to pick the most prevalent reason but if I had to choose I’d whittle it down to maybe three.
A year ago today, I graduated from university and it got me thinking about accomplishments. I like to think I’ve had a decent amount of them in my time, not just academic but professional, personal and physical. However, none of those things- not even shaving half my head and dyeing the other half neon pink- were as much of a conversation starter as pregnancy.
Everyone has an opinion on pregnancy. Everyone has a personal story or anecdote, or know something that’s happened to someone else. Whatever it is, they’re just bursting to tell you. Most of it, admittedly, is well-intentioned. People might not mean to come across in a particular way. They might even think they’re being helpful.
Forgive me internet, for I have sinned. It’s been nearly a month since my last pregnancy update. It seems like such a long time putting it that way- like, I’m nearly a whole month more pregnant. In my defence, I’ve been busy preparing for actually being a parent. This month has seen antenatal classes, birth plans, hospital bags, maternity meetings and baby showers. All things that make impending parenthood seem very, very real indeed.
Since crashing into my third trimester, I’ve actually started to feel… well, pregnant. It sounds stupid, I know- like I haven’t known I am the whole time. I just feel like there’s been a marked change in how I look and feel. The last couple of weeks have seen some particularly significant growth. When I look down, my feet have all but disappeared. In the last two weeks alone my bump seems to have grown significantly. Even Ally commented that it looked like it had grown in the last week- and he’s the last person who’d think to make a comment on my size (for his own wellbeing and, well, because he’s not a tool).
Last Thursday was the 1st of September, which heralded the start of autumn. Well, the meteorological start of autumn anyway. It might still be warm outside but the signs are telling me that my favourite season is upon us.
So why then has it felt like such a slog?
As much as I love autumn there’s always a strange tinge of sadness in the air. Maybe sadness isn’t the word, but there’s a weird melancholy that sweeps in and makes me feel a li’l more reflective than usual.