14 August 2012

yarn along :: positive ease

There's a many-hinged creature inside here. Sometimes it hiccups, like a weird internal metronome. And then it flexes all its hinges at once, stretching in every direction over and over and over again, digging its hard corners into my tightly-stretched ones. It always seems to be in a foul temper, desperate to tell me something.

Mr Breadwinner: "It is trying to tell you something: sit down."

But even the small stuff is thwarting me. Everyday tasks become fraught with frustration. Laundry involves numerous dropped socks that take a dog's age and old lady sound-effects to retrieve. Likewise every cup of tea: the spoon, the teabag, the milk top, something is guaranteed to end up on the floor. Every step I take in the slippery shower feels illadvised and high risk. And any attempt to simply 'keep on keeping on' is met with a barrage of taut practice contractions. Not regular, not breathtaking, but sore and impossible to ignore.

Last night reached a new peak. Something had to change.

Him: "How's your knitting going?"
Me: "The blanket's getting there, but I guess you might say it's got positive ease."
Him: "What does that mean?"
Me: "It's enormous, far too big for its intended body."
Him: "Why don't you sit down with it for a while, I'm going to make an apple crumble."

250 stitches
There's some scratchy and experimental Prom concert on the radio. My belly is thrashing painfully from side to side. He chops apples and talks baby names. I'm tearfully uncomfortable in my tight skin.

500 stitches
Him: "I'm going up to the garage to sort some boxes for the charity shop while the crumble cooks. I'll leave you with the oven timer."

750 stitches
Him (returning from the dark garden): "Here, I've brought you a walkie-talkie. I've got the other one in the garage, let's see if they still work."

1000 stitches
The radio is playing Delius now, much smoother. The internal struggling is starting to subside.
Crackle-crackle-fizz: "Don't get up when the oven timer goes off... blip... just tell me and I'll come and get the crumble out... blip... over and out."
I look at The Boss' new pile of new library books and check their return dates. They're due back on September 12th. There's every chance we'll be a family of four by then, and therefore only the slimmest possibility I'll remember to take them back. As the panic rises, I get a couple of thrashing blows to the ribs.  Deep breaths, listen to the Delius.

1250 stitches
beep-beep-beep-beep... beep-beep-beep-beep...
Me: "That's the crumble ready... blip... over and out."
Him: "Roger that"

Sitting on the sofa with bowls of hot apple crumble, the many-hinged creature inside seems to have fallen asleep.

That's what I call positive ease.





Linking in with Ginny's Yarn Along (a day early).





18 comments:

  1. I love his post! I can relate. Especially the old-lady sounds. Oh, and the practice contractions...
    Your husband sounds wonderful though - the only time mine ever baked anything (a birthday cake for me) he came up every five minutes to clarify something about the recipe :)

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  2. Your husband sounds wonderful! ahh I remember the old lady noises - I hope you are keeping well, and that your husband keeps up his looking after you!

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  3. Sounds like you are more than ready to have that lovely baby! I did not like the very end when everything physical was so difficult.

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  4. What an adorable husband you have there and I hope you are taking his advise to just sit down. It looks like it won't be long now. I know your are uncomfortable, but take it from me, just embrace this time, hold it close, it goes by quickly. Much love!

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  5. What a wonderfully well written post!
    I really hope you are feeling more comfortable soon - it will be worth it, I'm sure xx

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  6. What a gorgeous post! Brings back memories of not being able to bend in the middle! The blanket looks lovely. Apple crumble, yum. Jacinta

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  7. Oh I remember this. My mantra was "this too shall pass". The blanket is beautiful:)

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  8. What lovely writing. Your husband sounds like he is looking after you well. Happy resting and knitting. You will look back at this time and smile one day!

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  9. You need one of those grabber things for picking things up. They're just as useful to folk with a many hinged passenger as to folks whose own hinges are packing up :D

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  10. I bet it will be so well loved by baby. Hubby sounds so caring...maybe you can teach him how to knit?
    Well, yeah- no, just a thought.

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  11. Oh you know I can definitely relate! The old lady sounds and practice contractions...oy vey! I am as eager for me as I am for you : ) We are almost there!!

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  12. Oh my gosh, I love that you guys use walkie-talkies! Amazing! Hopefully your discomfort won't be for too much longer and all four of you can use the giant blanket! :)

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  13. I loved this post. You captured that end-of-pregnancy feeling so perfectly. I hope things ease up for you soon and you find lots of comfort and rest. You're almost there!

    Love the blanket!

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  14. This is beautiful. I'm sorry you are so uncomfortable. I send love and light and peace for the finishing days... E

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  15. All this will be an anecdotal memory in no time, and your youngest will be three years old, talking non-stop and growing like a beanstalk, but I know it doesn't feel that way at the moment.

    Your breadwinner sounds like a keeper and has some great advice. I think you should take it xxxxxxx

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  16. The knitting is beautiful. Apple crumble- def a keeper. I think we have a Ginger book too. Might need to add it back into thennighoynstory time. Little one gets stuck in a reading rut. Beautiful photography too.

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  17. Congratulations - I remember those feelings so well, and they were 17 years ago!!!

    Beautiful post hon. xxx

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