15 weeks now, with you inside of me. I have an overactive thyroid and went to the ER once for dehydration [from vomiting so much] and had to be hospitalized.
I feel like I can’t write any more — out of practice. I feel like I wasted those 3 years & that MFA. I wonder what the 30s are all about for me — but career & family. What will 40s bring? This feels so un-me sometimes.
I feel big already in this pregnancy & I’m only 18 weeks. Wondering how it will feel to have a baby again, go through all that & thinking about work. What I’m doing & how I might feel next fall — & beyond. Trying to predict. A lack of money, less money. 2 kids. And how I can’t imagine my life without Noah in it. And his sibling inside me, unknown but soon I will feel the same about. It’s all so strange & lovely.
(Note: These are initial notes for my book. This is very rough, first-draft material. How writers work. It embarrasses me to publish this, because it’s so raw. But the purpose of this project is to be real and open and not hold back. Just keep in mind that it’s rough.)
Here’s a moment:
An August morning, the air condition providing us with the only cooling. You say, “I love you” as you leave my apartment after a random reunion night together.
(It’s the last time I saw you.)
New idea for book — Twenty Years of Love(s), all the relationships from 16-36. Now I need to find the time to write. Stayed up until 2 a.m. last night with a buzz from writing again.
[The publication that I advise] was named a Pacemaker finalist last week & a Crown finalist. It’s been awesome. We go to Seattle in a month to find out if we win a Pacemaker. I also get my Rising Star award.