In my more literary moments I am enjoying Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, a book he describes as a novel, a title that, funnily enough, he doesn't give to War and Peace. It's a fabulous read, it just proved a little heavy to carry about.
Anyway, one of the characters, Kitty, is in her confinement stage of pregnancy and it's taking longer than everyone expected; Tolstoy writes:
She was now clearly aware of the new feelings of love being born in her for her future child who, for her, was already partly present, and she delighted in tending to this feeling. It was no longer wholly a part of her now, but sometimes lived it's own life independent of her. It often caused her pain, but at the same time made her want to laugh with a strange new joy.
When Kitty is asked if she thinks the baby is coming soon, she replies:
'I've thought it so many times that now I don't think or know anything.'
I couldn't say it better myself; this is why he is a great author and I merely a blogger.
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