So the bleeding is slowing, and with it the horrific tint to the memories. My waist is returning, and whilst there are twenty pounds between me and my comfy pants, my current resentment of my body has little to do with the extraneous weight.
The midwives were right when they insisted that the next few visits be performed at home, rather than in their pregnancy-rife offices. For some reason, the lively cries of the baby girl next door (born the same day as our son) never once left me with anything but joy at the sound of her voice -- but the sight of the occasional pregnant woman that I passed on my meagre grocery trip yesterday left me jealous somehow. Not quite jealous, but inadequate almost...
...almost as though the next months are just a waiting game to get knocked up again. There, I said it. We're waiting on appointments with Obstetricians, check-ups this month, and autopsy results for my birthday in November. Then we're waiting on regular periods to make sure my insides still work (I can't even fathom otherwise) and then... Then we begin the whole process again. Will I keep it a secret this time? I don't know -- I may be out of strength for that. Will I keep the baby's sex a surprise this time? I doubt it, I'm pretty sure I'm out of strength for that. Do I for a second believe that there won't be a next time? Not one.
In the meantime, I'm studying for the exam on Saturday, engaging in well-spaced out social visits, and procrastinating like a mistress of tangential chores.
My bedroom is cleaner than ever, the living room almost on the point of organized -- and yesterday's broiled salmon and steamed vegetables dinner was an inspiration when faced with the tedium of chapter two.
Ye gods, I'm a terrible student. All thoughts of applying for graduate studies are now locked neatly in a box on a shelf -- with a week to study I should arrive Saturday morning amply prepared, and instead I've got the most organized dresser drawers in the universe. Without the rush of caffeine that carried me through my triumphs in university -- I'm going to have to learn to start work early rather than pull all-nighters ever again.
I guess this week will be a good practice session to see if it can be done. Amidst the bustle of life slowly returning.
This afternoon I have a glorious visit from a wonderful friend, and tomorrow evening we have dinner plans with two brilliant figures -- somewhere in there, since the ginger cake for this afternoon's tea is already baked (I made two yesterday, one as a post-partum healing gift for the neighbours as an excuse to meet their daughter -- the glass of wine I drank in their living room sent me spinning!).
Despite the tumult of the past weeks -- some things remain constant. I, procrastinator, am doing my part for the stability of the universe.
The warm yellow paint sits on the floor of the baby's room, amidst drywall paste and boxes of tools and screws and dust. The basement is still a dangerous obstacle track of laundry doom, and the nagging voices of a dozen other projects still buzz in my ears.
And with that, I'm going to go study, and it's farkin' leftovers for dinner tonight, ya hear?!?!