I've been worried about breast pumps. I mean, look at that thing. Wouldn't you be worried, too? But then I read
Moxie today and felt much better. I love Moxie. I've been reading her for ages and ages, since long before I got pregnant, back when I thought I couldn't have children actually. I'd sit up at night and read the posts in her blog and be so jealous of the women who wrote what they did. At the same time, I really loved them all, even though they had what I thought I couldn't have. They all try so hard. Sometimes they get tired and crabby, and even Moxie doesn't post as much as she once did, but still. She's out there in the world with her two children, doing the best she can.
She went through a divorce this past year.
I feel sort of bad for her, because I know how it feels when something that big doesn't work out, you know? And she has these two kids with this man and so she's still connected to him somehow, forever, no matter what.
I would have a hard time living that way, but as we all know, I'm not very gracious in the disappointed-love category of life.
Sometimes, though, I think I'm very lucky. I'm free, when it comes right down to it, and I don't have to answer to anyone. It's sort of strange to be feeling this way, right when I'm on the verge of being tied down in a whole new way for the rest of my life. But I do feel free. It's nice. I could get used to it. I talk to Carlos still, a lot, and feel like he watches out for me, but I don't grieve for him the same way I used to. In a way, I still have a relationship with him, but it's one now where only I can change and grow and he stays the way he is forever.
I'm 27 weeks pregnant. I blew up like a balloon sometime after Thanksgiving. And it's okay. All of it is just okay. Except having to pee every ten minutes. And all the other physical conditions that I will not describe in detail.