blue january

Liz posted yesterday about a theory by a Welsh researcher that the third Monday of this month is supposed to be the "most depressing day of the year." Blue Monday. I thought, "Maybe that explains why all I want to do is sit around in my bathrobe all day and ... well, gestate."

The article cites the failing economy, broken resolutions, the weather, political fighting, etc. But it doesn't give much insight into what it's like to be nearing the end of the seventh month of pregnancy in the dead of winter. Lately, I've been having trouble dragging myself off the couch and doing much of anything, unless I have a specific plan, like play group Mondays at 10:00. It's so cold outside that going on any sort of outing involves a good 15 or 20 minutes of preparation — diaper changing; diaper-bag stocking; going out on my own to warm up the car; coats, shoes, hats, mittens; hat and mittens again when he pulls them off the first time; bringing him out to the car. Daniel can walk most of the way, but it's quicker to carry him, but then it's also easier for me to land wrong on my leg and twist my sore hip if I slip on a patch of slippery sidewalk. Which happens several times a week, whether or not I'm carrying Daniel. I feel like I have a perpetual limp, and that's throwing off my posture and everything else. And aside from the physical stuff, I always have to plan it around when he's most likely to fall asleep in the car. Do I want his one and only nap to begin before noon in his carseat? Or should I keep him at home and hope he makes it through lunch? So it's no wonder I'd rather just sit at home where it's warm and safe and I can lie on the couch while I read books to Daniel. Of course, I feel like I'm short-changing him, and he only has so much patience with me when I am not more engaged.

Oh, I just want this to be done. Winter. Pregnancy. My lack of energy. All of it. I sometimes dread the amount of work and patience that's going to be involved in having a second baby with Daniel so young, but I know that the passage of time will only make things easier as each of them grows older and more self-sufficient. Time could not feel slower right now. I am three-quarters of the way through this pregnancy now, and I feel huge and achy and uncomfortable, and it's only going to get worse. Ten weeks seems like such a long time off. It would be better, I'm sure of it, if it weren't so @#$% cold.

And yet ... every once in a while, I get this burst of energy that comes out of nowhere, and I am able to sweep Daniel up into my arms and move back and forth to his favorite songs. This morning, I trimmed the stems of some wilty flowers, cleaned off the dining room table and put in a couple of loads of laundry. I even got dressed before 11 a.m. And maybe, after his nap, we'll get bundled up and go out - somewhere. The post office. Peapods. Target. I don't know.

Wait a minute. Am I crazy to be sitting at this computer writing all this while he is taking a nap? For God's sake, woman - go take your own nap. So off I go.