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The First Trimester: Changes in Imagery and Practices


Over the course of the past year I’ve gotten much advice. In fact I’d known this would happen, every ‘what to expect’ blog talks about it and how things will never be the same.  However, during the first trimester, I laid-low and attempted to keep the news to a select few. At this point it did not seem like much would change.  The lack of visible physical changes made it possible for a brief time for things to ‘seem’ business as usual on the surface. 

On the inside, however, personal and professional practices were in flux. Conflicting emotions from happiness to guilt and anxiety were making their presence known.

Was it the right time? Are we ready for this?
What if I lose this one also, what then?

Fears kept me from going social media public with the news and from making long term commitments. Only a core few knew early-on, as I would be needing their support in either scenario. The pregnancy would cause a ripple of changes from personal, to social/community, to career.  The inevitable change in identity both personal and professional did not dawn on me until much later. At the onset, it didn't seem concrete, it was just an idea taking shape.

From the early stages of pregnancy I knew I was pregnant; there was no way not to notice. Easiest way to describe having conceived would be: signs of a cold (that never go away), exhaustion, generalized achiness, sore throat (turns out that was acid reflux), headaches, etc. None of these symptoms ever went away, they just receded as a different symptom took precedence. In the first trimester this meant day-long MORNING sickness and a slap-in-the-face you can’t do anything about it, exhaustion. Truth be told, after snacks I would notice time gaps, where i presume to have dozed off - often while in the middle of something. My productivity and ability to focus on paperwork began a marked decline. I was not a happy camper.

Lofty expectations and mushy feelings about the pregnancy were wasted on me. Truth be told it felt like I failed to meet social expectations -- took the sparkle out of their eyes -- when I didn’t show EXCITEMENT (more on that in later posts). When I didn’t express sheer JOY at being pregnant. Why should I? Was I supposed to feel a certain way? Was there a marked point where I was supposed to become enthralled with it all (because if that was the case, I missed it)? 

My body was undergoing changes, most at this point were unseen, just felt - and most were not pleasant.



On the other hand, a need to creatively express what was taking place tugged persistently at my core. On the occasions where I gave-in, the resulting images were alien to me. They were different from my body of work. Organic layers emerged, layers of thin colored lines, reminiscent of muscles and weavings. Lacking in details, these artifacts required time and a caressing/stroking movement with the color media in meditative repetition. Slowly building and weaving the lines until it felt complete. 

The practice was soothing and rhythmic. They remind me of containers, of holding, and keeping something safe. Of prayers weaved around something fragile. Of a potentiality within the pure empty space. 

Transitional pieces in a time of change.

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