a handful of thoughts from the mind of a preggo

Guys, this pregnancy is ON. Tomorrow I'll be six months along and there's no turning back. My auditions have tapered off to a slow drip of obscure roles for women who are either perpetually seated or attending baby showers.

It's a bit of a relief. I was going to these castings wearing one of the two super drape-y tops I own, sidestepping into the room and then holding my script in front of my belly. This worked surprisingly well for several weeks until I started noticing people's eyes flicker down almost imperceptibly to my bump, and I was convinced they believed me to have a rare disease whose horrible side effects include a giant torso goiter. Over time, all this goiter suspicion pushed me to come out to my agents. Now the cat is officially out of the bag, the drape-y tops have gone the way of the Dodo, and I'm currently designing a (tight) T-shirt that says "It's a baby, not a goiter!"

Perhaps because I have a bit more time on my hands now, the nesting effect has set in BIG TIME. I've been in this gotta-fix-the-house haze, trying to complete any possible task that I've been putting off for years (painting the baseboards! Changing the filter for the ice cube water!) or might need to happen in the next 9 months (eye exam! Teeth cleaning!). I realize it's the futile desire to control circumstances I can, so that when all hell breaks loose (aka newborn arrival), I'll be better equipped to handle it. Like if I have the most organized spice drawer and/or freshly painted and put-together linen closet, it'll somehow be easier to sleep only ten minutes a night and be drenched in spit-up. Even as I write this I see the ridiculousness of it and yet I still kinda believe it to be true. Anyway, it feels good to have a focus for all of my crazy life-will-soon-never-be-the-same energy, even if it's deciding on paint colors or learning about pile height in different types of rugs. I mean, there's only so many books on pregnancy, labor and swaddling a lady can absorb. Someone asked me recently if I'd thought about which parenting style I subscribed to and I realized I spend more time these days legitimately pondering the best chicken salad sandwich in Los Angeles (BTW, Food Lab FTW).

All this to say: one thing at a time, people. Whether it's paint colors, co-sleeping or chicken salad. One thing at a time.

Another thing that's been on my mind lately is that while I poke fun at all of this stuff and truly enjoy the humor in all of our (my) human experiences, pregnancy included, I've been in such appreciation and awe and joy at the miracle of all that is going on in my body and heart. It's heavenly. And I've been a little reluctant to effusively write about it because I'm so sensitive to the fertility-focused. I don't want to hurt the feelings of those who are yearning for this experience (as I was for SO long). I suppose it's impossible not to push buttons or have our buttons pushed by others around topics that we're super focused on. But we need to put our joy out there into the world and not stifle it, right? So: Here's to compassion. And to joy. And to expressing it with the best of intentions.

Hope you're having a wonderful week so far.

xoxo
jolie

P.S. Thank you again for all the well wishes and congratulations!

P.P.S. Do yourself a favor and do not ever google 'goiter'.