My intended binge has clearly not happened the way I planned. It’s not a lack of things to say or a lingering bout with depression here. It’s just the result of a drastic change the last few weeks.
Anyone that’s been there can tell you that, while you’re in those early and intensely painful days of grieving (and the ones yet to come), it can feel like time refuses to move at all. I so remember being able to do nothing. There’s been a nice and frenzied change.
I’m getting so close to being the reader that I was used to being. I may be nearing 75-80% of my old pace, so I’m getting stronger. Professors might want to tune out for this next part: I can read with people around again. I can read in silence. I can read with music. I can read with the TV going. I can read with something I like on the TV and follow both. It’s nice. It’s almost like a time back in my undergrad days living with my brother. We were new-ish Black Belts in Taekwondo, and one night while I was reading, he decided to test my ability to focus by practicing his round kicks at my head. I finally looked up from David Potter’s The Impending Crisis to ask, “What’s up?” My brother was somewhere around or past 50 kicks. The focus was strong. (As an aside, if you’re interested at all in U.S. history before the Civil War, you have to read that book. It is one of the 5 best books that I have ever read. Simply outstanding.) The focus is returning, and I missed that old friend.
While I’m getting more productive, time apparently decided that it didn’t have to go slowly anymore. If possible, I’d like to see time slow down. I’d like to have the chance to orient myself a little bit before diving into the deep end here, and I’d like to have a moment of smelling the roses and enjoying the ride. Instead, it looks like I’ll be enjoying the ride from the speedy middle. That’s going to be fun, but a little slowdown would be OK.
As I get things done and see time racing, there’s one more crucial thing out there: Zoe is coming! I’m starting to look at commitments and requested commitments in August through the Zoe lens. I see something and say, “That sounds neat, but Zoe could come any time in August. Maybe I’d better not commit.” She’s 26.5 weeks along, and that time is going so fast.
I really dreaded this part of it. I feared that summer would be a long, long interminable drag of waiting for the possibility of Zoe living to see the outside world. Instead, it’s going too fast! We have some stuff that we want to do, and it’s becoming clear that we’re about out of time to do it.
What might be the most encouraging thing I get to see and hear right now: Every night, I hear Becky and Zoe chat. It seems kind of one-sided, but I know that my little girl is kicking around like crazy. I guess the placenta formed in front so that I don’t get to feel her kicking, and I can’t fight with her like I could with Doria a couple times. Instead, it’s just hearing “Hey, Zoe,” and knowing that she’s still alive and kicking. That is very reassuring.
The things that I can see are too fast. The things that I can’t are too cool to miss. So life just keeps moving along, whether I’m ready or not.