Normal life has resumed. Or so it seems by everyone around me.
I’m not sure I’ll ever feel “normal” again. Or rather, I’m working on discovering what my new normal is. The brief life and death of Marci has definitely changed me, I’m just not quite sure how, just yet. Aside from the obvious complete loss of trust in the wonder of pregnancy, that is.
Lately I’m just busy. Really busy. Purposely busy. Now, anyone who knows me will attest to the fact that I’m not a total Stepford in terms of household domesticity… but lately the lounge is tidy, the kitchen gets a surface tidy / clean nearly every day, the table has remained not only visible but mostly clear nearly every day. The difference is, now when these things AREN’T this way – when there are toys scattered through the lounge, or dishes left on the kitchen bench, it eats at me something chronic, and thus usually gets taken care of. I’m not spending all day cleaning… but the ‘public’ areas of the house stay at a pretty presentable level. Meanwhile, the bedroom – the sacred place where I can relax, sleep, be intimate, and also close the door to from visitors…. is trashed. And that only bothers me a small amount – more frustrates me as it’s not highly useable for finding things or getting in / out of the closet etc. I think it’s a coping thing – if the public areas of my house are presentable, then obviously so am I. Meanwhile I fall to pieces in the bedroom, when needed, and it falls to pieces around me.
The other thing I’m doing lately is focusing on weight. Part of this is the simple fact that when we got back from the USA I felt bloated and fat and disgusting, and my clothes were tight. But instead of losing just enough to feel ‘comfortable’ in my normal clothes again, I’m going full gusto into the weight loss / fitness thing. Most days I do at least 45 minutes of intentional physical activity (albeit at a low to moderate intensity), some days I do up to 2 hours. It makes me feel virtuous and in control. My weight is only very slowly falling off – which admittedly frustrates me to no end – but it’s something.
And beneath it all lies the thought of pregnancy. I still feel like our family is not complete – but perhaps it will never feel complete, as there will always be a little girl missing. But the thought of pregnancy scares me…. the complexities of which aren’t really worth going into, and likely wouldn’t be understood by anyone who’s not been there before themselves. Furthermore now that I’m so focused on losing weight, pregnancy scares me because of that, too. If I get pregnant, I won’t be allowed to try to lose weight. Granted, I normally lose without trying through the first trimester, but I’m worried that the whole process of pregnancy – and 9 months of being “off the wagon” – will just put me back to square one. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Or, maybe I’m just looking for excuses why not to be ready for pregnancy.