A baby in Cambodia

I've spent about as much time backpacking through Asia and Africa as I have been pregnant and, to be honest, there isn't all that much difference between the two.  Pregnancy is like backpacking through Southeast Asia because:

• in the beginning, you're disoriented, exhausted, and disbelieving (Did I really just cross over two continents in 17 hours?  Is there really a tiny human being growing inside me?)

• you could wake up on any given morning and vomit

• after a little while, things even out and you start to feel great and love this place

• it's January and the ceiling fan is running on high

• fantasies tend to involve wine, really good soft cheeses, and Kosher dill pickles

• personal boundaries disappear as strangers ask about every element of your life (What is your job?  How much do you make?  Did you plan this pregnancy?  What are your labor and delivery plans?)

• soon, you're carrying an extra 25 to 30 pounds of luggage, making you wobble like an ungainly penguin

. . . keep reading pregnancy is like backpacking through southeast asia after the jump

I don't know where the last two months have gone.  The hours and minutes flutter away from me into the ether.  I'm not writing --- as is obvious from this very neglected blog --- and I'm not doing a ton of consulting work, either.  Yet, I seem to be busy every single moment of every single day, from the minute I wake up until the minute I crash into my bed, completely exhausted from doing stuff and dealing with things.

Stuff and things.  If you pin me down, I can point to specific things: finding a house in the finicky real estate market of Atlanta, calling mortgage companies and convincing them that our three year sabbatical does not pose a credit risk, closing on the house (yay!), and searching for a reliable contractor to remodel the kitchen and bathroom before we can move in.  And, stuff --- oh stuff --- I seem to have no shortage of stuff lately: new light fixtures, a washer and dryer, paint, boxes upon boxes of accumulated stuff from our past lives, and a giant list of "to buy/register for baby items" because apparently an eight pound newborn needs as much stuff as a full-grown adult traveling the world.  (Did you know this, by the way?  People complain all the time about how much stuff babies need but, seriously, I packed for three years with less stuff than this baby's going to need in her first six months of life.) 

I think part of the shock factor comes from the complete and total disconnect we had from everyday lives for the last three years.  Bloggers always talk about reverse culture shock and how when they return from a long trip, they're frustrated by the lack of freedom they have or annoyed by conversations that center around television shows or pop culture references that they don't understand.

Those aspects of reverse culture shock are there for us --- occasionally, we sit at a restaurant and say to each other, "Do you realize that we can understand every conversation in this place?" --- but, in many ways, we don't really feel like we're back in the United States.  We're still traveling, though right now our packed bags basically take us from my parents' house to Patrick's mom's house, as we try and get our new life in order.  No, what I find disturbing and disconcerting about this new chapter of my life is how much stuff and things we seem to need . . . or want . . . or buy.

. . . keep reading on stuff and things after the jump