Pregnantly Waiting. Or Waiting To Expel (Sorry; couldn’t resist)

Three contractions throughout late midnight and this morning should be proper evidence for a mind distracted. Now I look to distract the waiting game as I see if these warm-up contractions lead to the main event or taper off throughout the day. I appreciate those that continue to read my novella and I attempt to smooth-out the rough edges before posting. How grateful I am for the reason to continue writing as I … not really take an active approach to this stage in pregnancy where any second of the eighty-six thousand four hundred in a day could be the turning point though most of them aren’t, okay, so far none, but I passively ride along, tidying words and rooms or click through pages on a kindle. Biding my time is not my preferred expression. I have figured out which bump is his shoulder and which of the larger nubs is his knee as he continues to send out a foot once and a while, the heel sweeping along internally. His arms vie for space though little can be found. We wait together to meet. Divided from sight by skin but connected in the food I eat, the air I breathe, and the sounds of our environment.

For my husband and I, our lives will change permanently upon our fetus’ arrival into this world. His life will be ours. Things will forever flip from husband and wife to new titles of father and mother. I should use this time to grasp that. I will agree with anyone who might suggest that, but also, I’d like to add an Hah! because how can I fully visualize that? Is there anyway I can see the new circumstances from every angle before having lived it? There is silence in our home, as Husband returns to work after the holidays, a silence I’ll not hear again, perhaps, for at least half of a decade once our son-to-be heads off for school. Is there a way to appreciate that yet? I am trying but haven’t had the sleepless nights for context. They will come, yes. I am doing my best. Hindsight doesn’t arrive until later.

What else is there to type but wandering words tracing the loosely twined parallels of my thoughts wanly supplied of oxygen-filled blood? I continue for the expression of where my mental capacities weaken. Although, I do appreciate the deprivation of potential over-thinking. It is easier to stop it in its tracks when it cannot trek for long on a limited fuel supply…. at least coherently. If you find sense in my ramblings, please address it. I look forward to feedback at this time, perhaps not so much once sensibility reigns again. That will take months as instead of sharing my oxygen supply with another body, I’ll be sacrificing my sleeping hours to him.

Has anyone felt the urge to tweet in order to correct a writer for the use of the word rein vs reign? Or maybe their misuse of your vs you’re? You’re immediately asking for harsh eyeing of your own work if you do and, also, who likes the grammar police? But it still withdraws from what you are trying to express when a reader does realize the error.

Especially, of late, I’ve seen the sloppiness rising up in the final chapters or pages of a book where, as I’ve read suggested to writers that a good way to revise cleanly is to stab at random areas in your work because reading it, re-reading it, and reading it again in the same order, flow, or sequence will blind you from the same errors, the word than is easily replaced with that but reads terribly for one example that comes to mind. This is one long, drawn-out, and/or over-extended sentence that I hope makes sense to some. If not, I want to post it anyway. 🙂 It’s my pregnancy prerogative. I have no precedence of pregnancy tendencies in myself so I’ll say this is one of my habits I take up when under the influence of being with child. Thank you for this rambling opportunity making your way through this free-write and freeing any comments below with the understanding I was of two minds on the subject at the time. Yes, I had to type that as I  must force myself to finish and find something else to bide my time. Although binding my time sounds more apt.

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