One of the things that's been weighing on my mind lately is our present isolated state, here in a state and country where everything of necessity is a car ride (or plane ride) away, and we've only got good walking shoes, and enough cash to get us home once or twice a year.
Because it takes me a while to rev up through the queasiness when I wake up, I have been spending a lot of mornings by myself in our apartment. Hubby quietly gets up and gets himself ready, because I'm desperate for the extra sleep these days, so by the time I get up, eat, wait for my stomach to settle, eat again, and get ready for work, I've been bumping about alone for 2 hours. This is usually followed by working in my lab, where I'm the sole employee and tenant of our lab space. Monday through Friday - lather, rinse, and repeat.
This is compounded by the fact that we haven't managed to make many friends outside of work, and are in a bit of a different life stage than many of Hubby's co-workers (although I like them all very much - some of us share the same sick sense of humour). Evenings and weekends are spent cleaning, knitting, watching TV, and talking about what's in store for us.
Most nights I don't notice the fact that I can't run next door and have tea with my best grad-school friend, or that I can't make plans to go for breakfast and shopping with my best childhood friend; during our last months at home, I tried to appreciate these things as much as I could, and not take those people for granted. But, some days I can't help but feel sad that, for the majority of this pregnancy (or at least until I join prenatal classes and make some mommy-friends), I'll be physically alone, separated from loved ones by thousands of miles and an international border.
(Hubby is excluded from these calculations, but is VERY much appreciated and loved and is my strength every single day).
All this was starting to get me down, until I realized something a few days ago.
For the rest of this pregnancy, and indeed for the rest of my life from now on, I will never, for even a moment, be alone.
I love you, Bean.