I think I've been staring at this computer screen for about 20 minutes now. My brain is a fog. It has been for the last two or so months. I'm spending life constantly double-booked, or finding myself on the couch wondering what I was doing, or just giving up and having a sleep. I think whenever I'm pregnant, my body becomes distracted making eyebrows, or whatever it's up to now. I am no longer Jodi. I am a vessel.
I'm thirteen and a half weeks now and I still feel sick most of the time. I felt sick with Tully till around 12 weeks, with Evie till 36. So I'm just starting to process the realisation that this might be me for another five or six months. I was snuggled up in front of the TV with Tully yesterday and one of the shows said, "It's time to let go of your expectations and go with the flow." I felt like it was for me. But OH! I think I find that the hardest thing to do EVER. I've come to that time of the year when the markets are busy, the custom orders are flowing in and I'm starting to write a completely ridiculous list of the Christmas presents I'd like to make. And I'm having a bit of a tantrum about the fact that I'll have to choose.
It makes me really thankful that my friend Jodi has been coming around every Thursday to sew up our friends' Fire Quilt. And yes, I am amused that we share the same name. It's for all the times I wished there were two of me. Although we're not actually that alike. She's very organised, good at maths and never double books herself. Probably makes us quite a good team, really.
I can also rest in the fact that while my ideas for what I could make for the Olive Tree Markets are all amazing, I do have plenty of stock left over from the shop earlier in the year. More is not always more, Jodi.
And this custom order for a patchwork table cloth brings all the fun of BIG piecing without the basting, quilting, binding. When I finish the top, I will actually be finished!
I think I'm the kind of person who takes a couple of months to find a groove in new situations, to decide what my priorities and goals are. At the moment my only goal is to not be ridiculous in my expectations of myself. I'd like them to be better articulated than that, but slowly, slowly. After all, the point of life is not to produce, but to be.
And today being means messaging a bunch of friends to cancel afternoon tea because I won't actually be here, I'll be on my way to Sydney for my Dad's 60th. It means not beating myself up for handing over my brain to my uterus.
Then I'll put on some music and do a very poor job packing for camping, because I can't for the life of me think intelligently about what we'll need. And then I will enjoy being with my family and celebrating my wonderful Dad and not worry about forgetting pillows or toothbrushes.
I do love that I can share this here. Writing is the way I process, remember, move on. Thank you friends. x