I almost signed up for a knitting class yesterday, and now I can’t stop planning a hand-sewn quilt (and never mind the baking and holiday decorating). My primary form of creative expression has been a pair of pliers and a hammer for a while now, at the very least a pen– why the sudden softness? And it’s not just that I want to do these things. I need to do them.
In fairness to the baby and my hormones, the switch from metal to yarn would be a practical one. All the hammering I do for my jewelry wouldn’t be very friendly to infant ears (and with new baby cries passing through the walls, I’m going to have to give my neighbors a break sometimes too). We’ll see what happens. I can’t stop myself from thinking big– I’m envisioning Me as the new vegan, tree-hugging, AP, urban Martha Stewart-style super Mom. And the truth is, the desire was in me all along.
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I’ve often wondered, as a frequent observer of pregnant women, whether part of the processes’ appeal is the opportunity to transform one’s own life, to become someone else, something different, even, than a mother.
That certainly fits for me. I grew up an airforce brat, and I saw every move as an opportunity to reinvent myself. There’s something so exciting about the possibility an unpredictable future holds, and standing on the cusp of motherhood feels very much the same to me.