Mornings
July 10, 2025
On most mornings these days, I wake up much-too-early after a disrupted night's sleep. I’ve probably gotten up to pee a handful of times, chugged multiple glasses of ice water, and tossed and turned, taking a five-foot-long body pillow with me like a limp lover. I do my very best not to let myself get out of bed before 5:30. But when I do stand, I take myself to the couch where I’ve learned not to open the shades and give into the morning light of the long summer days. I make a cup of sugary instant coffee which makes the baby move. I know it’s not good for them (or me) to have sugar so early, but it’s what my stomach wants instead of a mug of herbal tea. I read a book, sometimes one or two chapters from a few different ones, switching between a novel to an essay or poetry. The stacks of history books aren’t appealing right now. My typical diet of war-torn narratives feels too heavy for this pregnant chapter in my life, or really for this chapter in all of our lives. I don’t know what to do with the unending stacks of heavy analyses of history that plague my shelves, as I would rather fill my mind with personal relationships, nature, and spiritual wanderings. These are the gentle curiosities for me. I then eat a small bowl of cereal; we spent extra money to get the kind without added sugar because life is about balance. I feel the baby kick as the cat vies for my attention, trying to nibble at my arm which I’ve never liked. The pawing is sweet, but I don’t enjoy the aggressive love bites that catch me by surprise. By the time my stomach has settled and the world has started to wake up, I return to a horizontal position on our pink velvet couch, with the shades still drawn. There is a pillow underneath my head, another between my knees, one wedged beneath my growing belly and one hoisting up my feet. With my delicate system of support in place, I close my eyes and try again to sleep. When slumber doesn’t come right away, I pick up my phone and write something into the notes app. This morning I wrote this—what you just read right now. Then I sleep because I’m always tired and it’s just that sometimes my mind is so desperate to shed itself of thoughts that they have to come out before I can check out. People tell me I’ll sleep less when the baby comes, but that the sleep will be better when it happens. I daydream of slumbering deeply even if for just short spurts at a time. I daydream of meeting my new body and the little joy I am growing, who will soon enough be outside of me, but always a part of me, although eventually a person entirely unto themselves. There is some sadness in that thought, I think, to be alone in this body once again.
Sincerely,
29 weeks pregnant
I love this sweet journal entry. You bring back my third trimester early morning ramblings because this body will not be still. But its tired. Do you know that when a female is in the womb, she forms all the ovum she will ever have in her life when she is still in her mother's womb. So the egg that formed you from your mom's ovary was formed while your mom was in your grandmother when she was pregnant. I think that is the coolest thread of ancestry. Sorry if that makes you cry. How special to have a mom that is a writer. Love to you.
“...the little joy I am growing, who will soon enough be outside of me, but always a part of me, although eventually a person entirely unto themselves. There is some sadness in that thought, I think, to be alone in this body once again.” — Your words resonate deeply for me, even as I am in a later stage of motherhood. I so thoroughly enjoyed being pregnant, holding my baby close and dreaming of what would be; then I relished breastfeeding, a connection beyond words in its profound love, its sense of timelessness; and now I try desperately to live in each moment as my boy becomes a man and our relationship evolves...but as you say, he will always be a part of me, as your child will always be a part of you ❤️. Perhaps there are still moments when I find sadness in being alone in my body—and, oh, the hugs my son receives at those times, haha!!—but this journey of motherhood is just that, a JOURNEY. How beautiful that, as a writer, you are capturing some of these emotions on your very own journey. Sending you comfort, health, and joy, Rachael ❤️