It was never my intention to not write for two weeks, but these last few weeks of pregnancy have done something strange to me: they have turned me into an introvert.
A friend of mine in her final stages of pregnancy wrote a few months ago about this same phenomenon, this intense desire to be around close friends, coupled with a strong realization that she needed time alone. She likened herself to a quiet buffalo.
At the time, I had just emerged from my glowy second trimester. I was full of energy and my hair looked great and I felt like a fertility goddess.
Now? Not so much.
I have heard the call of the quiet buffalo, and I am answering.
It takes all I have in me to text a friend back at the moment, much less write three blog posts a week. I have big plans for every naptime and bedtime, but when it comes down to it, all I can do is climb into bed and go to sleep, or curl up on the couch with a big glass of ice (Sweet Jesus, I have never loved ice so much as I do now) and an episode or two of Parenthood.
I want to be alone. I’m not sad or depressed, and I don’t hate everyone (although if one more person asks me if I’m sure I’m only having one baby, I might lose it). I just feel a deep, primal urge to be by myself, to rest, to be quiet and still and solitary. That same friend said her sister pointed out that many animals do this – that they go off by themselves to give birth.
So I’m going to try and do better, but I can’t make any guarantees for the next couple of weeks. I had Adlai at 38.5 weeks, and as of yesterday, I’m 38 weeks pregnant. I don’t plan to have this baby this weekend, but who knows? Until he comes, I’ll do my best. I’ll write when I feel like I can, but I’ll mostly be napping, and turning my room from a campsite into a baby-friendly haven, and just staring at my husband and my firstborn son.
And when this new one comes, well, I don’t know what life will look like then. But I feel confident this buffalo will, at some point, make way for the extrovert to return.