“I can’t see my toes.” Week 24: Preggoland gets (more) real.

So this week in pregnancy marks a prominent turning point in my mind. It’s the week I officially consider myself incapacitated by my growing belly. Not that I’ve been swilling beer and lifting heavy boxes up to this point, but there has been a certain feeling of….shall we say flexibility? I could bend, turn quickly, walk normally, stand up on my own, etc. I’ve been careful, but because I wanted to be, not because I felt like I couldn’t do things. Now I feel like there is stuff I can’t do.

I see things I could normally do- lifting stuff, certain cleaning tasks, biking- and now I can’t, or it’s more of an effort than I want to make. For someone who is used to a full range of motion, being incapacitated like this is a profound shift. It reminds me constantly of my impermanence, which is a good thing (except at 3 am, when I you can’t sleep and there’s nothing good on Netflix). I’m not used to feeling fragile. Don’t really like it all the time, but it’s worth it. I wish I could say that I feel perfectly fine stepping back and leaving more tasks to my Significant Other, but really, it makes me feel a bit lazy. I’m trying to get over that feeling…practice, practice, practice!

So, there’s that.

I can’t bend a the waist or see my toes without leaning forward. Sitting down requires consideration (will I be able to get back up easily?), and I can honestly say that I’ve never before been willing to kill to satisfy a sugar craving. Now I am. Mentally, when I flash-forward to the summertime, I foresee a lot of time bobbing up and down in the pool, trying to escape the hold gravity and Georgia’s heat. Also, lots of chilling in the house, prenatal yoga, learning more Photoshop, and reading. I’ll be doing a lot of reading.

There is a lot going on in the country right now, socially and politically. I don’t feel compelled to comment on it here and now, except to say that there are certain national conversations going on that I never expected we as a country would need to have past, say, the 60’s. (The right of women to control their own bodies? REALLY?) Beyond those issues swirling around, I attempt to keep myself focused on the tasks at hand- eating, nesting, loving, and living. That occupies quite enough time, thank you very much.

This weekend, we will be decamping to the flavorful N’awlins for the annual NOLA Girl Jam– and I can’t wait! I love that city! Escaping to NOLA and (in May) Florida will be two of the last times we far afield before July. After Girl Jam, I have several events to look forward to around the southeast, but the final stages of nesting and  enjoying what social and physical mobility I have left will take priority. I’m not saying I’m going to crawl into a hole for the last three months or anything! I’ll be around…just slower. Like an old Chevy.

Evita Arce- one of the instructors for the upcoming Hop Shop in Atlanta.

To my dancer buddies, I look forward to some serious stationary hang out time in the near future, with the Hop Shop coming to Atlanta in April. I miss a good, hard swing-out, but I’ve reached the point where gentle, medium tempo swing-outs feel most comfy. Don’t be offended if I turn down a dance. I’m likely just taking it easy.


2 thoughts on ““I can’t see my toes.” Week 24: Preggoland gets (more) real.

  1. Maybe it is more like newly capacitated instead of incapacitated–a different type of capacity, one you have never experienced before, one that is pure magic ! I know, I know, for someone as physically as active as you, slowing down is truly a different state–ah but, grasshopper, there are lessons to be learned…love you lots- Jane

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