So, yesterday was a lovely day in general – knowing that we only have to grocery shop and prep food for about half the usual number of people is sort of freeing, and my mother and I had a nice, relaxed time running errands and acquiring said groceries.
However, there was also briefly a random series of coincidences that resulted in a slim chance that the boyfriend could join us here in the US for the week after Christmas (a colleague whose plans changed generously offered to trade weeks off with him, and he found a good flight price). I, naturally, immediately start to dream and scheme: his first time in the US would be at Christmas, with all the decorations and lights – how fun! We could enjoy cozy times by the fireplace! I could… take him to New York to see it for the first time but mostly stay outside so as not to catch freaking omicron? (Okay, that probably wouldn’t actually have been the best idea. But we could have found other fun, mostly outdoor things to do!) And maybe we could have told my parents about the potential baby together. And discussed potential plans to get married. (Not going to lie, those last two were the part of this dream I was most attached to.)
But. It doesn’t honestly seem responsible for him to travel at the moment, covid-wise. My brother might not even join us so as not to endanger my parents. So it would be weird for the boyfriend to be there but not my actual brother. Flight prices swiftly went back up. And overall it just seemed like it was not the right time for this adventure. I was honestly kind of crushed. I had built up that whole fantasy in my head in a matter of hours (even though haven’t we learned by now not to fantasize about really anything, during covid?) and all of a sudden it was wrapped up in the other disappointments of the past few years: almost the entirety of the “new couple” phase with the boyfriend will have been spent in covid times; it’s looking less and less likely that we’ll be able to have even one exciting, adventurous trip before becoming parents; it’s not looking like I’ll get to introduce the boyfriend to my family before being already visibly pregnant and/or without introducing our offspring to them at the same time; I probably won’t get to have a wedding (not that I wanted a huge one – just a simple white dress and my closer family members and friends and some yummy food… even just in the back yard!) before being parents.
I know we are super lucky overall: I finally found the boyfriend after a verrrry long time thinking I’d never find anyone; we bought and moved into our new house that we love this year; we haven’t lost anyone dear to us to covid (fingers crossed it stays that way); and we finally got a positive pregnancy test after over a year of trying! But I think it’s possible to recognize all this good fortune and still mourn some of the things that will never be. And I always find my way back to the positives, really. So I think it’s okay to be sad about these things for a few days before bucking back up.
In other news, I did go to the library yesterday and procured the above stack of books – not by following internet/blog/social media recommendations, but by my old method of scanning through the new fiction shelves and just grabbing anything that took my fancy. (Except Still Life – heard about Louise Penny on several different podcasts and thought cozy Christmas might be just the time to try it – and the Liane Moriarty. That one is actually a capitulation of sorts: every time I see any of her books that I haven’t read, I think “I’ll just save that for the next relaxing beach vacation with my mom”… but between covid, grandmother health problems, and mother health problems, that has not happened since September 2018. So. I’m going to go ahead and indulge in one over the holidays.)
And in other other news… I felt sort of weirdly queasy this morning. But also hungry. But only for very specific things (a bagel). Is that morning sickness? Omg!! (Best not to get hopes up yet, but still!)