list, list go away

Last night I had a minor meltdown after talking to Devan on the phone. Our conversation reminded me that the end of this pregnancy gig feels about as fantastic as the beginning, and anything I want to accomplish I had better do now. But the list grows faster than I can complete items and scratch them into oblivion. I tried to figure out how one can simultaneously feel she is working very hard, and accomplishing nothing of consequence.

But here's the kicker: I can give myself a little room when I am up against a specific complaint, i.e. want to puke my guts out. But yesterday? My only symptom was not being able to give a damn about the list. Which is all fine and well until ten o'clock at night when the to-do items are multiplying like mental rabbits and your mind is filled with images of your own blown-up belly spreading wider than the couch will support, its promise of new life mocking your feeble attempts to keep your two-year-old alive another day.

If only I could care about the list during the times of day in which I could do something about it. Anyway, I remember that when I get neurotic about having no loose ends, no deed left undone before the baby arrives, I need to remind myself that I'm just giving birth, not dying (at least we hope).