in Colorado last year
We've been back for a week from a short, challenging, yet relaxing trip to Southwestern Colorado - the San Juan Forest near Fish Creek. I realized, as I baked in the sun like a lizard on a rock one afternoon, how disconnected I felt from my pregnancy and surroundings. I just couldn't transition from Iowa life to mountain life as easily as before. My first two days there I felt excited to see familiar plants, but my brain could not remember correct identifications. I became easily frustrated. I was hazy and tired and thirsty. I didn't read much or write anything, all I could do was sit, listen, stare at the water, and walk short distances on dusty trails. My energy outside of caring for my body and Catalpa was non-existent. I was drained.
This new human has finished its first half of life inside my womb, they are kicking like crazy, they are developing so many things and becoming so many things, and most of my days I am rushing around like a busy modern person out here. I am sorry baby.
I want the slow life.
Sometimes I feel like this little human is so much on a journey of its own (despite my housing it inside my body). This is not something I felt or thought while Catalpa was inside me. Is this a normal second child worry? Will they feel ignored? Will I give enough time to both? Will I listen, really, really, really listen to them (in the way I long to)?
What can bring comfort during such a fast-paced time -- Turning off the radio when I am in the car, sitting in the pasture, making a meal with Catalpa's help knowing it will turn out to be what it is, choosing to ignore the pull of internet communication, choosing to be at peace with isolation and knowing that friends are somehow near even though I rarely connect with them, reading in bed, waking up slowly with a lot of kisses, picking flowers, dreaming.
These next twenty or more or less weeks will come swiftly. I know they will. May they be filled with moments where I can connect with the beauty of this journey.
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