A Calling

I feel wrapped up and tied tightly in all my multitude of thoughts like sticky strands of spider web.

I am in the middle of my "weekend." Which is to say, the couple of days off I have in the middle of the week. I always want to get stuff done on these days, but this week isn't looking very promising. Yesterday I was a lump, surfing the web and watching tv and reading books I've read a million times already. I also attempted to take a nap. I know that I have been napping every day since about October, but this week, that's actually stopped. No more naps. Does that mean the exhaustion has stepped back a little? In which case, as in my prenapping days, I only nap when I'm sick/getting sick. So the fifteen or so minutes last night, I figured, is actually because I'm fighting off a cold.

Why is this important? Well, if I really am getting sick, then it explains the last few days of doinng absolutely nothing of importance.

I'm getting nervous. I'm terrified that I won't be ready for when the baby comes. There's so much to do. There's so much to buy-- good lord-- baby making these days is an exercise in being a good materialist. I know my parents didn't obsess over getting all the things you "have" to get. The layette. The gear. The matching 500$ bedding set. More and more and more. I read all about it and start believing I really need all that stuff. It's freaking me out. We don't have the money for all that stuff. I wonder who exactly DOES have the money for that. Have we reached the point yet where only the rich can have babies in America. Of course we haven't. Maybe I'm just getting suckered into the consumerist society.

I have a couple of friends who are giving me a few baby things. They both say they are done having kids. One friend has already given me a cosleeper and has a pack and play and slings and play mats, etc. The other friend has baby boy summer clothes. The offers made me feel good for two reasons-- one, it makes me think maybe we CAN afford it, and two, it's nice to know I have friends. Sean, however, seems to be saying the only thing we need is a queen size bed and a bigger couch. He wants me to put them on the registry.

Look at me obsessing over all the STUFF. (and the money it costs.)

Maybe if I were to get up and start doing stuff I wouldn't feel this way. Maybe if I cleaned out the baby-to-be's room I would feel productive. Maybe if I started writing again I wouldn't feel like my reason for existence was simply waiting for the baby to be born.

But my thoughts do swirl around having a baby. Every once in a while, I just get the urge to hold the baby in my arms. And yet, there's no baby to hold.

Is that hormones? Baby obsession, is that part of the process? Is it normal to be turned into an incubator? Is it normal to not be caught up in any of the things I used to do? Writing, painting, going out with friends, reading for intellectual stimulation, not just comfort and to pass the time? I feel as if I am wasting my time here. I mean I have all this time available. I have plenty to really get back into my dreams and goals and what I used to call my calling.

But my calling is not calling. Or maybe it is calling, but so quietly that the screaming, squawling baby making hormones are drowning it out.

What would happen if I sat for a while, maybe meditating, very quietly, and listened, listened really closely to the silence? What would I hear?

Shhh....