On Pregnancy and Reading Limbo

I'm in that uncomfortable state of pregnancy where I'm uncomfortable more than I'm not. I'm 38 weeks pregnant tomorrow, which is so very close to the end, but even with a daily nap and a good, long, overnight sleep (almost) every day, the days are long and tiring. Although there are still two weeks until the nomadbaby is due, and he could easily come as much as a week late, he could also legitimately come at any time. I've taken to calling these last few days and weeks as pregnancy limbo--because who knows how much longer I'll be pregnant? With pregnancy limbo comes reading limbo.

I'm well aware life as I know it is about to change dramatically, and as reading is one of the most important things to me, I've spent a lot of time thinking about how to prioritize my reading while pregnant and after the nomadbaby arrives. Pregnancy has been grueling for me, and I've found a way to relax and simply spend as much time reading as I can, while reading whatever it is I'm in the mood to read. Often, mysteries and nonfiction have been more appealing to me than my typical literary fiction, but I also think that trend is temporary. This low-key reading plan has worked beautifully, as I've read seventy-seven books so far this year (a huge number for me, especially considering I read ninety-four books in all of 2013.

As the nomadbaby's birth approaches, however, I find myself distracted by picking books SO. VERY. CAREFULLY. Because what if that's the book I'm reading when I go into labor? I will forever remember the book I spent my last child-free minutes reading, right? Or what if it's a book I never manage to quite finish because I lose all brain power in the days following his birth and end up putting it down for weeks or months?

All of my reading limbo is connected to the fact that it feels like the only thing I have control of in my life right now. My body does not feel like my own, which makes basic tasks like getting off the couch and working all day pretty challenging. When I'm reading, I can get lost in a book and still feel like myself. When I'm reading, I'm happy. I'm lucky to still be sleeping well for the most part. It's the rest of my waking hours that are uncomfortable. But when I finish a book, I spend far too much time deciding what to read next. And as excited as I am for the nomadbaby to arrive, I'm also curious how many more books I can squeeze in before he does. Now if only I can decide which book to start next.

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