I am not very creative when I am pregnant.
I realized this about myself several babies back. I've learned that my usual enthusiasm and passion for writing exponentially decreases in proportion to the size of my belly. It isn't just that I am more tired or busy, though I am sure those things factor in. It is more that I only have a certain amount of creative power stored up in my soul and that, without even being consciously aware of it, most of that power is being greedily channeled towards the little person growing inside of me.
I know that after this baby is born and my soul is no longer focused on creating another human being, that all that creative power will flow into other channels, but right now the writer in me feels robbed. The part of me that needs and yearns to write, to create with words on the page, can't help but feel jealous. Jealous that the other part of me, the part the needs and yearns to create a new life, has the monopoly on my creative power. When I think about all the things I would like to be writing, and all the ideas that won't quite come together, I can't help but feel a bit resentful that my creativity is being sucked up by all these little people who monopolize my body, my time, and my energy.
And then... I look at these four little people I have created with my body, nourished with my breasts, infused with my love, taught with my passion, and shaped with daily acts of charity and I realize that they are my masterpieces.