That’s just the litmus for everything now. Is it worse or better than chemo? Cool.
So I drag my ass out of bed and make myself a cup of tea. I eat some ginger candies and do some stretches.They make me feel a little woozy, so I don’t go too far with it. I drink my tea and go over the list of stuff I said I was going to do today. I spent the morning too sick to do anything, but I’m rallying now. I can definitely check off some boxes. This is absolutely not going to be another day of saying I’m going to get stuff done and then spending the day thinking about doing the stuff instead of actually doing it.
The list is daunting, though, so I break it up into smaller bits. Instead of setting up the nursery, I aim to unbox the playpen. Unwrap the changing table. Build the crib. If I can get just one of those things done, I’ll feel less like I’m lying the next time I tell everyone I’m all set up for the baby.
Everything’s here. That’s basically done. I’m doing okay. I went through the whole list Joss gave me when she was setting up her own nursery — even though she already had one — and I’ve got almost all of it.
I don’t think I should be dealing with the heavy stuff today, not if I was sick this morning. That makes me think I also shouldn’t be dealing with putting the car seat base in my car, either. I’ll have to clean the car out for that, and that’s a lot of going up and down the stairs of my apartment building. Getting dressed, too, which seems like overkill for today. Besides, I should do it on a day when I know I’ll be driving by a car wash. The responsible thing would be to vacuum it out after I clean it and wash it as well.
I do need to wash all the baby clothes. Everyone’s been insistent about that, just in case the kiddo’s got skin allergies. Not something I ever dealt with, so I doubt it, but I’m totally going to do it. I just don’t have a full load of laundry yet, and the laundromat in my apartment complex is expensive.
Actually, I should go to the laundromat down the street and save a buck. That makes the most sense. I can start a load and then run over to the car wash around the corner. I’m going to be so productive that day.
I scribble these notes down, glad I got a dry-erase board for all this so I don’t have to see all the other plans that failed for some reason or another. I’ve got plenty of time. All month, probably. So I really don’t need to be stressing about this. I can work on some costumes instead.
I take my cup of tea with me into my workspace. I’m technically in a studio apartment, but one of the sets I worked on had a bunch of screen room dividers, and once they were done filming, the set designer was happy to donate them to me. I’ve cut a corner out with them, so I don’t feel as much like I’m sleeping in my sewing room anymore.
I’ve got four projects I need to work on. The two big ones, more suits for Emerson, are needed for a summer shoot; they’re projecting it to start in June. He’s already told me he’ll take them whenever they’re ready, to just give him a call and he’ll fly into Wilmington. I’ve promised him a dozen times that they’re coming along well, and every time, he’s told me not to stress myself.
Currently, they are two naked mannequins with signs written on them to let me know what needs to go on them.
There’s also an alien costume that needs to be done for July. But I don’t have great ventilation here, and it’s going to need a lot of chemicals with fumes I shouldn’t inhale while I’m pregnant, so I really can’t start working on that yet.
I should get Emerson’s costumes going, but the fourth project, a giant Victorian-era gown for a cosplay the client needs for September, is almost done. I may as well hyperfixateon pinning miles of ribbons to it. That’s what the client wants. She wants Victorian but ridiculous. Miles of ribbon.
By the time my phone rings, hours have passed. I see Joss on the other end and immediately chew her out. “You’re supposed to be on sexy vacation with Gabe.”
“I am on sexy vacation with Gabe! But we’re in between sexy things and I wanted to check in on you. I saw a, um, a quilt, a baby quilt, that made me think about you, and you know me, always worrying, so I just want to make sure that everything is all set up. I can send, uhh, someone over to help if you need anything.”
“Everything’s all worked out!” I swear. Everything is fine. Itisall worked out. But I have that compulsion to prove myself with an actual lie. “I went really crazy with the prep. Nursery’s all set up, I did all the washing and everything. I got a stupid amount of diapers because I figured I could pass the leftovers off to you. I could not be more ready for this. I just have to—oof.”
“You okay?”
“Yep!” I pipe out as boldly as I can. “Just some Braxton Hicks.” The pain fades immediately, definitely not a real contraction, but man, it took the wind out of me.
“Are you sure? What hurts?”
With another deep breath, I get myself regulated enough that I can sit down on the donut I had to get for my office chair. “Being eternity months pregnant,” I lament. It might not be chemo, but it’s a lot. And the slow build of it? The fact that every day is a little worse than the day before? A lot, a lot. “I’m good. Tell me more about that quilt.”
I don’t care about the quilt. Joss has already made me a quilt, in fact. Cora made me a couple maternity dresses too, surprisingly casual and comfortable. She was high fashion for a long time, strictly custom work and artsy runways, but she’srecently gotten a fast fashion line at Neiman Marcus. Still more expensive than anything I’d wear, but if she ever wanted to do a Target collaboration? The dresses she made me make me think she’d be an instant hit.
She’s amazing.
I must drift off, not so difficult when Joss is on a tangent about quilts. I have no idea what she’s saying until she asks, “Hey, whatever happened with that extra costume they wanted you to do?”
I think I hear Gabe in the background. He’s a big guy, makes a lot of sound, so I’m sure he’s trying to be quiet, but it’s obvious that he’s right next to her.
“Oh, it’s in the works,” I tell her, wondering if I should let her go back to Gabe since I’m sure he wants a bit of fun before they go out to dinner. It’s been a crazy few months, and it’s not going to slow down for a long time. They need to take advantage of it.
But I’m worried if I try to go right now, it’ll sound like I’m dodging the question, so I push forward, describing all the progress I plan to make on the costume in the next week as though I’ve already done it. And Joss’s side goes quiet, so I figure Gabe must have left the room.
But then it dawns on me that she may have muted the phone because Gabe was doing more than just standing near her, and whether she wants to talk to me or not, Gabe definitely wants to monopolize her attention. “Well, I should let you get back to your babymoon.”
The pause before Joss speaks is as good a confirmation as I could ask for. “No, we’re good. We’ve got another hour before dinner.”
I chuckle. “It sounds like you have something to do before dinner.”
We say our goodbyes, and I return to the dress, although my eyes start to get blurry. It’s not surprising, really. I’ve been going at this for long enough, and I’m close enough to the fabric that the world starts to become intangible. But my brain starts to go swimmy, too, and that’s irritating.
