Oh man. I'm so beat, it's hard to even make myself type. But it's ALL GOOD. I am burrowed into the couch, under blankets and in my pajamas, slippers, fleece, etc. Ted Hedgerson is in his sleeping bag on my legs (I will bother him in a bit), and I'm going to spend the rest of my wakefulness in the delicious world of The Historian, my latest read.
I decided to immerse myself in fiction this semester, if not year, if not forever. My dad gave me a copy of the murder mystery Still Life, which I enjoyed, and then I decided to keep going. My relationship with fiction has been kind of weird - not the fault of fiction, just some adolescent conditioning from OCD, which I'll get into at some later date - but I'm finding that honestly, I've been missing out. A lot. Granted, it's taken morning/day/evening sickness to slow me down enough to actually dig into it. But still. I want to crawl into these worlds - when they're well done. I utterly want to be in 50's Istanbul, right now, thanks to my current reading. A very nice feeling.
Went to my first doc appointment yesterday. Got to see the little nugget for the first time! He/she was very wiggly, with a strong heartbeat. My favorite pic from the ultrasound was his/her legs. So cute. It's weird. Not a in a bad way. But growing a human... I can't really get my head around it. I guess it's good that my BODY IS REMINDING ME THAT I'M NOT ALONE. Like, constantly. But that's also ok. I got through my first day back teaching - quite well. I drank water constantly, and ate every few hours. Now, I'm whooped. The morning/day sickness seems to be settling just into the evenings, and I know in a few weeks it will probably go away. At least, that's been my sisters' experiences. I'm grateful for that - as well as for a family history of healthy pregnancies. I'm not saying that guarantees my 37-year-old self anything, but it was reassuring to report no issues yesterday at the doc. (Only issue was my dehydration, which led to a blown vein, which led to my comment to my students that "I'm not a drug addict". I mean geez, I can't even drink coffee right now. Isn't that INSANE?)
I'm glad to be back teaching composition and playwriting, though. I'm also glad to have a lighter schedule this semester. Have some returning students to playwriting - always a joy. I'm also going to start in on a major new writing project this weekend. So - things are very good, and I'm grateful. Though at the same time, I know that sometimes, when it comes to pregnancy (and certainly could apply to anything, I'm sure), there are a lot of wounded hearts. To say I'm grateful - I'm not implying deservingness on my part, or trying to take credit for that which I have no right to take credit for. I was thinking yesterday, after the relief of finding out I had a "viable fetus" (the words of the medical assistant, which I did not particularly appreciate in advance of knowing whether or not I had one), I knew, and know, I'm not necessarily in the clear, so to speak, when it comes to my baby's health. But as I was waiting to get my blood drawn, feeling anxiety (both about blood and baby), I realized, no matter what, it will be all right. I was thinking on the Jewish Passover song "Dayenu", which is very important to me, and an utterly strong companion to a song I grew up with and also deeply value - "It Is Well With My Soul". My current faith practice is not one of exclusivity - as in, in bringing up these songs I want to note that I find them valuable, in and out of religious practice. I found "Dayenu" particularly valuable yesterday (and today, and whenever I think about it). There are plenty of things that aren't well, in the world, right now - and yes, even in my soul; but at the same time, I am grateful.
So with that - off to 1950's Istanbul.