Finding the time to do nothing. That is a skill I have never mastered. I'm always doing something, even when I'm home by myself with a book that I tell myself I'm dying to read. It usually sits sadly on my bedside table, gathering dust whilst I manically vacuum, hang the washing, stir a pot of soup or scrub the shower.
I try to keep my weekends as free as possible yet somehow I always feel utterly exhausted at the end of each day, like I need another weekend to recover from the busyness of a handful of activities that somehow always manage to thread together to consume all of my 'me time'.
In the past few months I haven't had much choice in the Resting Department. With all these surges of hormones pulsating through my veins, I've reluctantly found myself bed ridden, lying on my side in the foetal position between dashes to the bathroom with morning sickness.
I'm sick of morning sickness.
Initially I thought to myself that I had wasted precious time whilst confined to the bed but I had time to think... And think I did.
Instead of feeling sorry for myself, I made plans. I thought about new recipes whenever the thought of food agreed with my stomach, rather than fighting with it.
I thought about the year ahead and made a mental To Do list in chronological order of all the necessary tasks we needed to accomplish as a team before Pecan arrives in the winter time.
With each day, I regained more spirit and more energy. I felt encouraged by achieving simple tasks, such as eating breakfast without becoming ill (a personal victory, I might add), opening the windows to allow the sea breeze to cleanse the house and reading a few chapters from my formerly neglected novel.
During the afternoons, I still have a lull in energy but with some nourishing food prepared by Byron, I am able to eat, rest and slowly make my way to the car. Byron drives us to the end of the beach and we walk. We don't run or jump or surf but we walk and sometimes, we play Tug-O-War with Coco with pieces of driftwood and seaweed.
We stretch and breathe, being mindful of how it feels to be outside, how it feels to be supported, how the sand feels between our toes and we marvel at how wonderful the sea air feels in our lungs.
Sometimes our bodies make us drop back a gear or two. I'm here to tell you that it's ok to trust what you're feeling and just go with it.
It's ok to slow down.