When I was pregnant the first time, (and no, that’s not me in the photo) it was a la la land of wonder and delight. Even when I was three weeks late, I was huge but happy, excited about being a mom, prepared to the nth. Fast forward three years. I’m about to pop with my son, instead of craving brown rice and vegetables like I did with the first pregnancy, I was heavy into Big Macs and fries, and, instead of reveling in anticipation, I was so tired of being pregnant I was doing jumping jacks to get the baby out.
Okay, fast forward again 23 years. We’re 75 days away from the March 5 pub date of THE WISDOM OF HAIR and I feel like I’m 23 years pregnant. The immense gratitude I have for being in this long awaited position is being swamped by a ticking clock that refuses to fast forward through the holidays, my birthday, my husband’s birthday, my son’s birthday to get to March 5, which is the day before my daughter’s birthday.
I am a walking Christmas disaster. I did not spend hours shopping, trying to find the perfect gift for those oh-so-hard- to-buy-for loved ones. EVERYONE IS GETTING A GIFT CERTIFICATE! And you know what? That feels pretty good. What doesn’t feel good is waking up in the middle of the night all the time. At first I thought it was because I have to pee, but I’m sure it’s the jumping jack anxiety stirring me awake, and I get up and go because it beats lying there in the dark on spiky pins and needles.
Don’t get me wrong 2012 has been a phenomenal year, but in so many ways it’s been gut wrenchingly hard. Aside from the tragedies this year both foreign and domestic, we’ve lost dear friends who went all too soon. Losing someone, especially those with big personalities like Bryan Buske and Christie Rosen, makes you look at things a little differently. It makes you realize how fleeting life really is. I know that’s supposed to make me want to slow things down and cherish every possible moment, but it doesn’t. I just want to get to March 5.
So, happy holidays my friends. May yours be filled with peace and contentment. As for me, let the jumping jacks begin.