Pregger Brain

So, I’m 7 weeks and 4 days preggers right now. The fact that I can figure that out is amazing to me, considering that yesterday I was completely convinced that today was Friday and even baked a pie to take to the lunch party I’ve been invited to. Now the lemon meringue pie is patiently waiting in the fridge for tomorrow.

I had a bunch of stuff to do yesterday, too, but I simply couldn’t concentrate on anything. I feel like my brain is covered in a sticky mush–a meringue–like when you take cold medication because you just can’t stand the sniffles anymore and find yourself floating through your daily scenes like an observer rather than a participant. This pregger fuzz is not as prominent as the cold medication fuzz, but it’s there. It’s enough to make me both incredibly lazy AND restless, a strange combination.

You’d think that baking a pie represents energy, but it’s one thing to bake a pie when you have a day of work to do (like I did yesterday) and another thing to bake a pie when you’re avoiding that day of work to do (like I did yesterday). I officially did nothing but bake that pie yesterday and today I find myself way behind in my business and still feeling that brain stickiness.

My friend who has a six-month old told me that “pregnancy brain” is really normal. She remembers having to write everything down and mixing up her schedule regularly. My Mom said that she remembers putting things that are meant for the fridge in the cupboard and cans of soup in the fridge. She added, laughing, that this tendency never really wore off, even after we were born!

What I wish, though, is that I could get used to it. I realize that I’m not even two months along, officially, but that I’m still not figuring out the rhythm of this shift in my brain. I am a person who generally has her body rhythms figured out, and these rhythms are moving too fast to transcribe them and then predict them. I guess it’s the dance of the hormones; they’re too fast for me and they’re multiplying too quickly as this little tadpole takes up residence in my gut. Just when I think that I know what these feelings or this body energy is telling me, it will be telling me something different,  something new. It will be into a new movement, dancing without me.

The other option is to just give up, give over to it, forget about trying to track this strangeness in my brain and emotions, and just sail into it like a wave on a majestic ocean. After all, no one would ever suggest they could tame ocean waters, especially if they’ve never sailed before. It takes experience to know the waves and I was born inland, far from water, far from surfing.

And while I know I have to do that, it’s a struggle nonetheless. A lesson in trust and letting go, acceptance and receptivity.

Happily, though, that bout of nausea I wrote about in the last entry has mostly gone away. Just little waves again (speaking of waves) and I guess I’ve learned to surf these fairly well. Wow, I suppose I’m learning after all!

Now, if I can only restrain myself from eating that pie today….

Snowballs
Sullied
   

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