I had an Education Committee meeting last night at the synagogue. I joined last year, figuring that I’d like to be a part of planning and executing the kid’s Hebrew education, and this was the third meeting so far that I’ve attended. The director wasn’t able to attend, and had asked me to run it in her place. I’m also really involved in running the day care room this year for the High Holidays, coordinating activities and making sure that it’s got coverage for the entire time.

The meeting went well – I still feel like I’m very much the junior member on the committee, not only because I just converted a couple of months ago, but also because I’m physically younger than most of the group. Then all of the group, honestly, and it felt weird last night to be the one in charge.

I was driving home last night, feeling the waves of nausea (because holy moly, morning sickness is definitely a factor for me now) and kept thinking about high school and the girl I used to be. Okay, yeah, I was listening to music that we used to sing along to back then and I got all misty and teary eyed, thinking about the way my life used to be and how much everything is different now. The priorities I had, the things I wanted to do, the ways in which I’ve changed. I love where I am – and if you’d asked me twenty years ago if this was where I wanted to be, I’d have been blissfully happy to know that at 35, I’d be happily married, staying at home with my three year old, my daughter attending first grade and newly pregnant with my third baby.

It still feels like such a far road that I’ve traveled to get here. It’s not just the Jewish thing – although that’s a really big change. I’ve always been really interested in spirituality, and it’s not that I’m more so now, but now I’ve got a framework for it all that makes so much sense to me. I’ve lost friends over the years, I’ve stopped caring about things that used to really matter to me. I’ve got new friends now, new routines and new customs. Even though so much of my life has changed, my hometown is different, I don’t see my family anywhere near as often, I still feel like that same sixteen year old girl, who loved Christmas and sunshine and fairies, who wanted so much to have a stable, happy home and a beautiful family – and I’ve acheived so many of my dreams.

I don’t even know exactly what I’m trying to say here, I’m sorry this is so disjointed and confusing. I’m hormonal, obviously, and sick and happy, so unbelievably happy about this baby and about my little girl, doing so well at school, and little Sammy, who’s turning into such a big, smart boy and about what Marc and I have built together – we’ve really struggled, financially, and in many ways, still are. But I couldn’t be here without him – and I’m so unbelievably happy to be here, right now, in this place – in my tiny little apartment with a thousand kids toys everywhere, crowded with books and stuffed animals and so much love and joy and utter satisfaction.

I love being pregnant. It’s not just the obvious things – it’s the tears, the sense of walking around so aware of how blessed and fortunate you are.

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