I’ve never been pregnant, but I’ve had plenty of friends who have. (Much better way to start this entry, I’d say.) And many of them have shared pieces of their experience with me–the feelings, the instincts, the urges, the emotions, the needs, the cravings, the thoughts, the worries, etc. that come with growing a human life inside your belly, right below your heart.
One of those “pregnant woman” instincts I’ve always found interesting was the one that comes just a few weeks before the baby is due. The one where a woman, round a swollen, who avoids the floor at all costs, would get on all fours to scrub the kitchen tile. The one where she pulls all the clothes, already cleaned and pressed, out of the closet to wash them just one more time. The one where she dusts and vacuums and then dusts again–every day. The one where she re-cleans, re-organizes, and repositions the nursery.
“Nesting” is what they call it … Getting ready and preparing a perfect place for the impending arrival of a new life.
Well. Like I said. I’m not pregnant. But even still, I’ve been feeling a swell within my soul the last couple days–a need to nest, oddly enough. To get my life and my home ready for something. I don’t believe it’s something big or grand. And I don’t believe that it will just suddenly arrive one day on the doorstep of my life with bells and whistles and a parade in tow. Maybe it will. But I don’t think so.
But regardless of what it is that’s coming or how it comes, there’s a tangible need that I’m feeling. A need to weed out, declutter, reorganize, rededicate, reexamine, and refocus. For something. Something good. And in order to be in a place to receive this good thing, I need to let go of other things, old things, worn out things. So that there’s room for it. And so that I’m ready for it.
So this week, and maybe next, I will be nesting.