un-nesting

It's interesting how everyone assumed my first pregnancy was planned and how everyone assumes that this pregnancy was a surprise. The sky is a vast, people. Look up and out of yourself once in a while.

Things change. Ideas and goals change. So here's a little manifesto I wrote a while back about the phenomenon of the only child. I still believe all of it. And it's also true that when I wrote it, I never thought I'd have another kiddo. Yes, the sky is vast.

People often ask if this pregnancy feels different than my first. How could it not? But they're baffled when I elaborate. They want to hear how I'm carrying, what I feel like, but what I tell them is just what I know: that last time, I wanted chocolate pudding and watermelon, lots and lots of watermelon. This pregnancy I want lemonade, tomatoes and those Thai fresh spring rolls with peanut sauce. Last time I was pregnant, I woke up and sneezed three times every morning. This time it's two sneezes.

As my belly grows, we are also beginning to pack boxes, to unseat what we have built around us as a home. I am forced into the rather unnatural state of “un-nesting.”

Six and a half years ago when I was pregnant with Isaac I wouldn't have put much stock in the idea of biological urges to nest, to clean. The morning before I went into labor, I suddenly spotted a giant conch shell Mike had brought back from an island trip that was fated to live out its days in the tideless waters of our bathroom. Even as I grabbed it, scrubbing ruthlessly at the dust embedded in every crevice, dust I had never before cared about or taken notice of in any way, it did not occur to me that something was going on over which I had no control.

It's external forces beyond my control that are jostling me about this time. I've been un-nesting bookshelves, un-nesting closets. The packing has started.

We finally found an affordable house we really wanted, only to be told it had just gone under contract with someone else. One of the first baby names I put in our “like” column startled me when I punched it into Google and received back its meaning: new house. Um. Yeah. Apparently, I kind of want a place to live. Apparently, I want a baby. Go figure.