Sixteen weeks, this week. Two weeks into the second trimester and I was hopeful the exhaustion would begin to lift. I am not a stranger to fatigue, however, which is perhaps why my body still struggles to keep up with growing this baby AND living the other part of my life. I find myself disappointed that things I used to derive so much pleasure from (writing and photography) have been pushed aside, even if it has been for the greater good of this family (ie. me getting naps so I'm not a bear in the afternoons or evenings).
I had a discussion at length with a dear friend about how I view myself and my attitude about hobbies and interests. At first I am extremely excited and eager and ready to learn, learn, learn anything and everything I can. But as soon as I hit a spot where more work might be done, or run into even a minor challenge, I tend to give up. I find my inner dialogue reassuring myself that I wasn't that interested in the hobby to being with. I wasn't that good at it. I seem to lack a certain (and necessary) mental puzzle piece that motivates me to continue, that keeps me from giving up.
I used to think that my tendency to give up so easily had more to do with the hobby/activity not being my passion, but I've come to wonder if it has more to do with me just not having the drive within myself to push through, take risks, and keep going. (I mean, what if I fail?)
But today, right now, I use this poor baby as my excuse. I use my pregnancy as my crutch to reassure myself that I'll pick that camera up again soon. Or even take another class. That I'll start blogging more regularly, and even start writing short pieces to exchange with a friend. And who knows? Maybe I actually will. But I suppose right now is not the time to beat myself up, or push myself too hard.
In fact, right now feels like the perfect moment for a quick (or not-so-quick) nap.