It is a very strange thing to find that your body has been taken over by another being. And strange to be a container carrying precious cargo that everyone else has an opinion about and an interest in and my god they are going to let you know!
Before I was pregnant, when I needed mental health assistance it could be very, very difficult to get the help I needed. Endless phone calls and waits and unreturned messages and frustration and confusion for which I just didn't have the energy. So it was strange to become pregnant and suddenly find that everyone could not help me fast enough. My baby's health and well-being are important enough to complete strangers that they want to bend over backwards (to the extent that their budgets allow) to connect me with services.
Want to take a jewelry-making class with other moms-to-be? Here's a pamphlet!
Care to try prenatal acupuncture? Come to our free clinic!
Feel like you want support when you bring your newborn home? Let us sign you up for a few visits from a home health nurse!
Compared to what I had gotten used to, it has been rather dazzling.
I am trying to take advantage of every service and opportunity I can manage while it is available, especially now as I'm reaching the end and being pregnant has become very, very difficult. I was aware that it might, but never would I have been able to imagine how.
At the beginning of my second pregnancy, I was warned that miscarriage, pregnancy, and birth can all being very challenging experiences for women who've experienced sexual trauma. When I thought about it, it made sense. I was glad to be warned and I filed this knowledge away with the idea that knowing was half the battle and now that I knew I would be fine.
How I was wrong.
(To be continued.)
Showing posts with label On pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label On pregnancy. Show all posts
March 15, 2012
March 8, 2012
Introducing...Dear Frijole
Did I mention I was having a baby?
I've been discussing this topic elsewhere for privacy. Now I'm ready to share.
http://dearfrijole.blogspot.com
I've been discussing this topic elsewhere for privacy. Now I'm ready to share.
http://dearfrijole.blogspot.com
March 25, 2011
In three parts
We took the baby to be cremated yesterday. After a great deal of thought and discussion, we decided that we just could not bear handing her off for lab tests.
It was a miserable day--cold, wind, and heavy rain. We had to take two buses to get to the mortuary in Daly City. While waiting for the 28 along 19th Ave., car after car plowed through the standing water and splashed and soaked us. Some people took up defensive postures with their umbrellas; I just didn't care. Our task at hand overwhelmed me, and I didn't care who saw the tears creeping down my face on the bus.
We completed the paperwork. We reported the date and time of death. We signed off as her mother and father. We named her Marie. Marie Pesic. This was never intended to be her name, but I so often light-heartedly called her "Fetus Marie" after my own middle name that it felt right. We held hands as the kind staff member asked us the necessary questions, and when my voice broke with sadness Ivan took over answering them. We said goodbye before handing her over.
* * * * *
In the nights, I feel panic. I feel lost and alone and the pain and fear are still fresh in my mind. I curl up to Ivan--pressing my body against the length of him, but the darkness engulfs me and the cold creeps into my bones. If I manage to nod off for a bit, my mind places me on a tiny, unstable balcony hundreds of stories above a city at night. I am carelessly leaning far over the edge, looking down. I jerk awake. Over and over again.
* * * * *
People keep referring to the next time I get pregnant, and I have to wrap my sweater tighter around me to keep the cold out. The next time.
It was a miserable day--cold, wind, and heavy rain. We had to take two buses to get to the mortuary in Daly City. While waiting for the 28 along 19th Ave., car after car plowed through the standing water and splashed and soaked us. Some people took up defensive postures with their umbrellas; I just didn't care. Our task at hand overwhelmed me, and I didn't care who saw the tears creeping down my face on the bus.
We completed the paperwork. We reported the date and time of death. We signed off as her mother and father. We named her Marie. Marie Pesic. This was never intended to be her name, but I so often light-heartedly called her "Fetus Marie" after my own middle name that it felt right. We held hands as the kind staff member asked us the necessary questions, and when my voice broke with sadness Ivan took over answering them. We said goodbye before handing her over.
* * * * *
In the nights, I feel panic. I feel lost and alone and the pain and fear are still fresh in my mind. I curl up to Ivan--pressing my body against the length of him, but the darkness engulfs me and the cold creeps into my bones. If I manage to nod off for a bit, my mind places me on a tiny, unstable balcony hundreds of stories above a city at night. I am carelessly leaning far over the edge, looking down. I jerk awake. Over and over again.
* * * * *
People keep referring to the next time I get pregnant, and I have to wrap my sweater tighter around me to keep the cold out. The next time.
March 20, 2011
We used to be three and not two.
I lost my baby at 3am yesterday morning, Saturday, March 19.
I had her in my bathroom. The pain was horrific and the scene was grisly. Most of the time I made Ivan wait on the other side of the door. I didn't want him standing in my blood or seeing and hearing the things that I was seeing and hearing. When I called his name he was through the door in a flash, folding me in his arms. The rest of the time he stayed outside, taking my instructions for what I needed and whom to call.
I want and need to tell my story of what happened in this apartment between 1 and 4am yesterday, but I don't know the right person or venue. I can't bear the thought of my friends who are mamas or mamas-to-be to read these awful things.
I can tell that she is gone. There is a terrible void where she used to be.
I feel such strange things toward my body. On one hand, it has been through so much in the last couple of days and I want to be gentle with it. But on the other, I feel betrayed by and angry with it. How could it fail to keep my baby safe?
I want to scream to the world that she existed. That she grew and fluttered in my body. That she was so important to us and already loved very much. That I thought of her nearly every moment, waking and asleep, and wanted to be a better person for her.
I have some irrational thoughts. Heroin addicts can shoot up while pregnant and still manage to have healthy babies. People can be unknowingly pregnant for as long as I was and longer and still manage to have healthy babies. Dogs can go off by themselves and burrow under porches and have healthy babies. But I--while taking the best care of myself that I could--managed to fuck it up.
I have some hateful thoughts, too. I wonder if the people who weren't happy for me before will be happy now that there is no baby.
I can sit and stare for hours at a time. I feel guilty if I smile at anything; my child is in a jar of alcohol in the bedroom. The grief and the anger come in tidal waves, and I am drowning. There just aren't enough tears in the world right now.
I had her in my bathroom. The pain was horrific and the scene was grisly. Most of the time I made Ivan wait on the other side of the door. I didn't want him standing in my blood or seeing and hearing the things that I was seeing and hearing. When I called his name he was through the door in a flash, folding me in his arms. The rest of the time he stayed outside, taking my instructions for what I needed and whom to call.
I want and need to tell my story of what happened in this apartment between 1 and 4am yesterday, but I don't know the right person or venue. I can't bear the thought of my friends who are mamas or mamas-to-be to read these awful things.
I can tell that she is gone. There is a terrible void where she used to be.
I feel such strange things toward my body. On one hand, it has been through so much in the last couple of days and I want to be gentle with it. But on the other, I feel betrayed by and angry with it. How could it fail to keep my baby safe?
I want to scream to the world that she existed. That she grew and fluttered in my body. That she was so important to us and already loved very much. That I thought of her nearly every moment, waking and asleep, and wanted to be a better person for her.
I have some irrational thoughts. Heroin addicts can shoot up while pregnant and still manage to have healthy babies. People can be unknowingly pregnant for as long as I was and longer and still manage to have healthy babies. Dogs can go off by themselves and burrow under porches and have healthy babies. But I--while taking the best care of myself that I could--managed to fuck it up.
I have some hateful thoughts, too. I wonder if the people who weren't happy for me before will be happy now that there is no baby.
I can sit and stare for hours at a time. I feel guilty if I smile at anything; my child is in a jar of alcohol in the bedroom. The grief and the anger come in tidal waves, and I am drowning. There just aren't enough tears in the world right now.
March 18, 2011
Downpour, downpour
Some of this is a little gruesome. Please don't read if you will be offended.
After several days of bleeding and a couple days of cramps, last night at about 1am the pain became extremely intense. We went to the emergency room at San Francisco General Hospital in a cab. It had started to rain. Ivan held my hand. I frequently had to lean over and grit my teeth from the severity of the pain. We tried not to focus on what was likely happening.
They took me in very quickly, and my kind nurse Gallo walked me to the bathroom so that I could give her a urine sample and put on a hospital gown. Once she shut the door and I began to undress, blood and tissue began to gush from me and onto every available surface--the floor, the toilet, my gown. I tried to clean up after myself, but it continued to run down my legs in hot, red streams. I opened the bathroom door to ask for help, but all I managed to do was begin to sob loudly into the hallway as blood pooled at my feet.
They put me in bed and hooked me up to an IV. I began to shiver violently, and they wrapped me in blankets. They called for Ivan. The doctor did a painful pelvic exam and vaginal ultrasound. He didn't say anything for the longest time, and I asked if he could see the baby. He turned the screen toward me so that I could see my tiny baby, very still. He couldn't see a heartbeat, and said he wasn't sure if it was because she was so small or if it was "something more worrisome." Ivan and sat and hugged and cried while we waited for my lab test results.
In the end, the verdict was that I am still pregnant according to my urine and blood tests. But the doctor warned me that I may very well be in the process of having a miscarriage; it's just too soon to tell.
I cried at the thought of my baby falling into a clump in the toilet. I was advised by multiple people to save the tissue so that it could be sent for lab tests. And then I cried at the thought of fishing her out and holding her in my hands.
I have been given instructions under what conditions I should return to the hospital. Otherwise, I return to my prenatal clinic Monday to give more blood and urine samples to find out if I am still pregnant. Now all I can do is wait.
I am so unhappy. And numb. I feel like I have failed.
The rain is coming down hard now.
After several days of bleeding and a couple days of cramps, last night at about 1am the pain became extremely intense. We went to the emergency room at San Francisco General Hospital in a cab. It had started to rain. Ivan held my hand. I frequently had to lean over and grit my teeth from the severity of the pain. We tried not to focus on what was likely happening.
They took me in very quickly, and my kind nurse Gallo walked me to the bathroom so that I could give her a urine sample and put on a hospital gown. Once she shut the door and I began to undress, blood and tissue began to gush from me and onto every available surface--the floor, the toilet, my gown. I tried to clean up after myself, but it continued to run down my legs in hot, red streams. I opened the bathroom door to ask for help, but all I managed to do was begin to sob loudly into the hallway as blood pooled at my feet.
They put me in bed and hooked me up to an IV. I began to shiver violently, and they wrapped me in blankets. They called for Ivan. The doctor did a painful pelvic exam and vaginal ultrasound. He didn't say anything for the longest time, and I asked if he could see the baby. He turned the screen toward me so that I could see my tiny baby, very still. He couldn't see a heartbeat, and said he wasn't sure if it was because she was so small or if it was "something more worrisome." Ivan and sat and hugged and cried while we waited for my lab test results.
In the end, the verdict was that I am still pregnant according to my urine and blood tests. But the doctor warned me that I may very well be in the process of having a miscarriage; it's just too soon to tell.
I cried at the thought of my baby falling into a clump in the toilet. I was advised by multiple people to save the tissue so that it could be sent for lab tests. And then I cried at the thought of fishing her out and holding her in my hands.
I have been given instructions under what conditions I should return to the hospital. Otherwise, I return to my prenatal clinic Monday to give more blood and urine samples to find out if I am still pregnant. Now all I can do is wait.
I am so unhappy. And numb. I feel like I have failed.
The rain is coming down hard now.
March 15, 2011
Resting
We are okay, but that was a kind of primal fear I've never known and am not eager to experience again. After everything was over, we could not hear the baby's heartbeat. My midwife kept soothing me that this was perfectly normal for 11 1/2 weeks, and that I would see her with my own eyes during the ultrasound on Friday and would feel so much better.
Oh, I hope.
I want to sincerely thank the folks who wrote to check on me. Your concern means more to me than I can express.
More of my usual blather soon.
Oh, I hope.
I want to sincerely thank the folks who wrote to check on me. Your concern means more to me than I can express.
More of my usual blather soon.
March 13, 2011
Weekend of worry
Things happening that shouldn't be happening. A call to the doctor assuaged my concerns yesterday, but today things have escalated. I am anxious. I am noticing every twinge. I am trying to be calm.
Doctor tomorrow.
Doctor tomorrow.
March 8, 2011
Wherein I begin what will surely be more regular mentions of my lady-parts
Knowing that boys read this blog, including my father (Hi Pop!), I'll try to go easy on the vagina talk. I'm not trying to give anybody nightmares or anything.
Today I had 1 of 3 doctor appointments this week. This one was with a midwife at my prenatal clinic. Well, actually I saw TWO midwives--one of them was in training. I really, really loved them both. We began by talking forever. Nothing was left out! Every aspect of my body and mind were covered. I had a list of questions and concerns, and we went through each and every one in great detail. We even pondered the nasty head cold I am currently sporting from every angle. Then they proceeded to poke, prod, and examine every square millimeter of my body. Again, nothing was left out. I just finished some antibiotics for a UTI, and now the antibiotics have caused some yucky side effects. Ick. This issue was dicussed and dealt with. Prescriptions were filled. I also had a flu shot and blood work.
What I am REALLY excited about, however, is what is coming up March 18: my first ultrasound. I elected to undergo some optional genetic testing that is no risk to the baby just so I could have an extra ultrasound a few weeks sooner than the first one they are already planning. I can't wait! It will quite possibly be too early to tell the baby's sex, but I don't care. I'm dying to see her swimming around and to glimpse her little heart beating.
I came home exhausted and congested, and was grateful for the hugs and offers to make dinner that I encountered. Ivan also kindly trekked out into the drizzle to Walgreen's to get me tissues and the cold medicine I was given permission to take. What was supposed to be taco night turned into yogurt, bananas, and kiwi for dinner, but the best part came last: armed with cold medicine I slept for *3 1/2* hours! I am hoping for more of this delicious elixir known as sleep in the very near future. Like, in the next 10 minutes.
Today I had 1 of 3 doctor appointments this week. This one was with a midwife at my prenatal clinic. Well, actually I saw TWO midwives--one of them was in training. I really, really loved them both. We began by talking forever. Nothing was left out! Every aspect of my body and mind were covered. I had a list of questions and concerns, and we went through each and every one in great detail. We even pondered the nasty head cold I am currently sporting from every angle. Then they proceeded to poke, prod, and examine every square millimeter of my body. Again, nothing was left out. I just finished some antibiotics for a UTI, and now the antibiotics have caused some yucky side effects. Ick. This issue was dicussed and dealt with. Prescriptions were filled. I also had a flu shot and blood work.
What I am REALLY excited about, however, is what is coming up March 18: my first ultrasound. I elected to undergo some optional genetic testing that is no risk to the baby just so I could have an extra ultrasound a few weeks sooner than the first one they are already planning. I can't wait! It will quite possibly be too early to tell the baby's sex, but I don't care. I'm dying to see her swimming around and to glimpse her little heart beating.
I came home exhausted and congested, and was grateful for the hugs and offers to make dinner that I encountered. Ivan also kindly trekked out into the drizzle to Walgreen's to get me tissues and the cold medicine I was given permission to take. What was supposed to be taco night turned into yogurt, bananas, and kiwi for dinner, but the best part came last: armed with cold medicine I slept for *3 1/2* hours! I am hoping for more of this delicious elixir known as sleep in the very near future. Like, in the next 10 minutes.
March 7, 2011
Idiots and granola-crunchers
Recently I complained about some of the ladies that annoy me on www.i-am-pregnant.com. I still visit the site regularly, though. I think that talking shit to the computer is theraputic for me when I can't sleep in the middle of the night.
A popular feature of the site is the ability to ask questions of other expectant and new mothers in an open forum. I do learn things on here--some I didn't even know I wanted to know and some that make it impossible to imagine eating for the next several hours given the degree of detail they go into. But one popular line of questioning involves variations on the question, "Do you think I could be pregnant?" Here is an actual message someone posted:
I have a friend that hasn`t gotten her periods just yet. She is never late and have her period marked every month. Her boobies are sore as well as her nipples. she has been off the pill for the past 8 months. Do you think she could be pregnant? Its hard for me to say as I never got any symptoms at all and found out late in my pregnancy that I was. Please help
What is your major malfunction? Take a pregnancy test! Some women say they don't want to "waste a test." What are they? Made of fucking gold? Take a pregnancy test!
In other news, I recently watched a documentary called, "The Business of Being Born." It "explores the history of obstetrics, the history and function of Midwives, and how many common medical practices may be doing new mothers more harm than good." In general, I have always imagined giving birth in a hospital and having an epidural, but wanted to educate myself about other ways that giving birth might look. I have already gotten comments like, "You want a home birth, right?" and snotty advice from women who haughtily state that "a natural birth experience" (i.e., without my much-coveted epidural) is the only conceivable option.
Well, I feel like I know more after seeing this documentary and that I am getting increasingly sensitized to important issues to consider, but I still feel like I want the hospital and the epidural even after viewing and considering.
I had a friend who had her first child about three years ago, and decided she wanted a doula. When she went into labor a few weeks early, she and her partner called the doula who was out of town and unwilling to return. She assured them that she "probably wasn't in labor" and advised her to "light a candle and take cleansing breaths." So they went to the hospital. This is exactly the kind of hippy bullshit I want to avoid.
A popular feature of the site is the ability to ask questions of other expectant and new mothers in an open forum. I do learn things on here--some I didn't even know I wanted to know and some that make it impossible to imagine eating for the next several hours given the degree of detail they go into. But one popular line of questioning involves variations on the question, "Do you think I could be pregnant?" Here is an actual message someone posted:
I have a friend that hasn`t gotten her periods just yet. She is never late and have her period marked every month. Her boobies are sore as well as her nipples. she has been off the pill for the past 8 months. Do you think she could be pregnant? Its hard for me to say as I never got any symptoms at all and found out late in my pregnancy that I was. Please help
What is your major malfunction? Take a pregnancy test! Some women say they don't want to "waste a test." What are they? Made of fucking gold? Take a pregnancy test!
In other news, I recently watched a documentary called, "The Business of Being Born." It "explores the history of obstetrics, the history and function of Midwives, and how many common medical practices may be doing new mothers more harm than good." In general, I have always imagined giving birth in a hospital and having an epidural, but wanted to educate myself about other ways that giving birth might look. I have already gotten comments like, "You want a home birth, right?" and snotty advice from women who haughtily state that "a natural birth experience" (i.e., without my much-coveted epidural) is the only conceivable option.
Well, I feel like I know more after seeing this documentary and that I am getting increasingly sensitized to important issues to consider, but I still feel like I want the hospital and the epidural even after viewing and considering.
I had a friend who had her first child about three years ago, and decided she wanted a doula. When she went into labor a few weeks early, she and her partner called the doula who was out of town and unwilling to return. She assured them that she "probably wasn't in labor" and advised her to "light a candle and take cleansing breaths." So they went to the hospital. This is exactly the kind of hippy bullshit I want to avoid.
March 5, 2011
This battlestation is operational.
I felt the baby move for the first time today. I felt the baby move!
It was the strangest and most wonderful feeling. I was lying on my side trying to take a nap, and I began feeling these tiny, delicate flutters. It felt like butterfly wings, or like a tiny fish swimming around. My little fish.
I felt her again tonight, and it makes me smile uncontrollably.
It was the strangest and most wonderful feeling. I was lying on my side trying to take a nap, and I began feeling these tiny, delicate flutters. It felt like butterfly wings, or like a tiny fish swimming around. My little fish.
I felt her again tonight, and it makes me smile uncontrollably.
At least now I have an excuse.
My formerly squishy belly is taking on a new and unfamiliar firmness.
March 3, 2011
No shit!
At 10 weeks of pregnancy, I am reading that Fetus Marie is the size of a small plum. Now we're getting somewhere! She's lost her tail, her fingers and toes have separated, and her tooth and taste buds are now forming. She also intensely desires hot cinnamon candy.
I threw in that last part.
A few weeks ago when I had some time to kill in the Outer Sunset, I browsed in a small candy store. The sight of most of it didn't do anything special to me, but at the very end of the aisle, my eyes fell upon what seemed to be the loveliest sight:
I bought a few ounces of them. Oh, holy Jesus, did they taste divine. I've never been a big gummy candy fan, but I cannot stop thinking about these goddamn cinnamon bears. I've tried to fight it. I certainly don't need to be eating all that sugar--especially now--but oooohhhhh.... During a few moments of weakness, I found a website that sold them and just looked at pictures. Then I very responsibly closed the page and tried to forget. But I could not.
So I just gave up ordered 5 lbs of the damn things. I'll probably need to turn custody of them over to Ivan so that he can allot me a daily ration. At least until I freak out and hold a knife to his throat until he gives up the stash.
It's been a rough fucking day.
This week, the www.i-am-pregnant.com website advises me that I may find myself "feeling moody" and "getting distressed easily."
Uh, you think?
I threw in that last part.
A few weeks ago when I had some time to kill in the Outer Sunset, I browsed in a small candy store. The sight of most of it didn't do anything special to me, but at the very end of the aisle, my eyes fell upon what seemed to be the loveliest sight:
I bought a few ounces of them. Oh, holy Jesus, did they taste divine. I've never been a big gummy candy fan, but I cannot stop thinking about these goddamn cinnamon bears. I've tried to fight it. I certainly don't need to be eating all that sugar--especially now--but oooohhhhh.... During a few moments of weakness, I found a website that sold them and just looked at pictures. Then I very responsibly closed the page and tried to forget. But I could not.
So I just gave up ordered 5 lbs of the damn things. I'll probably need to turn custody of them over to Ivan so that he can allot me a daily ration. At least until I freak out and hold a knife to his throat until he gives up the stash.
It's been a rough fucking day.
This week, the www.i-am-pregnant.com website advises me that I may find myself "feeling moody" and "getting distressed easily."
Uh, you think?
February 27, 2011
Kindnesses
For someone who ostensibly knows a thing or two about human behavior, I feel like I've never understood less. As I've moaned and cried about considerably, it was shocking to me how many people were not happy about my pregnancy.
But there have been some pleasant surprises, too.
My lovely and very much missed friend T.K. surprised me with a gift certificate for a natal massage ("to meet all the needs of the mother-to-be") a couple of nights ago when I was feeling incredibly low. I am so tempted to use it now, but I have a feeling I will appreciate it even more when I am huge and ungainly.
A girl from high school that I really never got to know very well surprised me by asking if she could make something for the baby. She has four children of her own, and assured me that she wouldn't be giving me any unsolicited advice because she knew everyone was probably busy doing that already. I really appreciated that--hell, THAT could be my gift.
Another girl with whom I never really got along heard about my pregnancy and contacted me to ask for my address so she could send me a gift. I was so touched.
I love to go to the doctor. All the ladies in the office are so genuinely kind to me. They smile and answer my questions and pat my arm reassuringly and congratulate me. I beam and beam.
Oh! And as my friend Lael said it would, my hair is getting fuller and thicker. This fucking ROCKS.
God. I hope that only happens to the hair on my head.
But there have been some pleasant surprises, too.
My lovely and very much missed friend T.K. surprised me with a gift certificate for a natal massage ("to meet all the needs of the mother-to-be") a couple of nights ago when I was feeling incredibly low. I am so tempted to use it now, but I have a feeling I will appreciate it even more when I am huge and ungainly.
A girl from high school that I really never got to know very well surprised me by asking if she could make something for the baby. She has four children of her own, and assured me that she wouldn't be giving me any unsolicited advice because she knew everyone was probably busy doing that already. I really appreciated that--hell, THAT could be my gift.
Another girl with whom I never really got along heard about my pregnancy and contacted me to ask for my address so she could send me a gift. I was so touched.
I love to go to the doctor. All the ladies in the office are so genuinely kind to me. They smile and answer my questions and pat my arm reassuringly and congratulate me. I beam and beam.
Oh! And as my friend Lael said it would, my hair is getting fuller and thicker. This fucking ROCKS.
God. I hope that only happens to the hair on my head.
The magic beam
I guess I'm pretty naive.
Somehow I assumed that once you got pregnant, you would KNOW. Like there would be this magical beam that would radiate from within you, indicating the life growing inside.
There's no beam.
I am in my third month of pregnancy now, and I still don't really FEEL pregnant. I mean, there are a couple of signs other than the obvious pregnancy tests taken at home and at the doctor. I am moody and irritable and emotional and driving Ivan crazy. I'm tired and my formerly slim feet and long toes look like pudgy sausages. I have to eat every four hours.
But that's about it. I haven't had any morning sickness, and that strangely seems to disappoint people who love to ask, "Are you puking your guts up?." I can't say that I am sorry that I have missed this rite-of-passage thus far.
Tonight, four year-old Darius and I were talking about the baby before he went to bed. A commercial came on where kids were talking about "Where do babies come from?" and I cringed. His father was in the other room, and I didn't want to be the one to make decisions about what he does or does not know about where babies come from. Of course, he immediately turned to me and asked the inevitable question after the commercial went off.
"They come out of their mamas' tummies," I said simply, praying he would leave it at that.
"Are you a mother?" he asked.
"Not yet," I replied. "But I will be soon."
He thought for a second and said, "But you have a baby in your tummy, so you ARE a mother."
I smiled. I guess I just hadn't thought about it that way.
Somehow I assumed that once you got pregnant, you would KNOW. Like there would be this magical beam that would radiate from within you, indicating the life growing inside.
There's no beam.
I am in my third month of pregnancy now, and I still don't really FEEL pregnant. I mean, there are a couple of signs other than the obvious pregnancy tests taken at home and at the doctor. I am moody and irritable and emotional and driving Ivan crazy. I'm tired and my formerly slim feet and long toes look like pudgy sausages. I have to eat every four hours.
But that's about it. I haven't had any morning sickness, and that strangely seems to disappoint people who love to ask, "Are you puking your guts up?." I can't say that I am sorry that I have missed this rite-of-passage thus far.
Tonight, four year-old Darius and I were talking about the baby before he went to bed. A commercial came on where kids were talking about "Where do babies come from?" and I cringed. His father was in the other room, and I didn't want to be the one to make decisions about what he does or does not know about where babies come from. Of course, he immediately turned to me and asked the inevitable question after the commercial went off.
"They come out of their mamas' tummies," I said simply, praying he would leave it at that.
"Are you a mother?" he asked.
"Not yet," I replied. "But I will be soon."
He thought for a second and said, "But you have a baby in your tummy, so you ARE a mother."
I smiled. I guess I just hadn't thought about it that way.
February 22, 2011
Things that currently make me cry
At the moment it seems like I am not QUITE as weepy as I was. There are a couple of themes to my tears, though, and they are coming most regularly when I think/hear about or see these things:
- people who feel lonely
- hungry, abused donkeys
- the very existence of the word "miscarriage"
- running out of my favorite orange juice
- people who feel lonely
- hungry, abused donkeys
- the very existence of the word "miscarriage"
- running out of my favorite orange juice
February 18, 2011
Despite all the delicious mustards out there, yellow is still my favorite.
At 8 weeks of pregnancy, my books tell me that Fetus Marie is now the size of a pinto bean. Before she was a blueberry. Next week she'll be a ripe green olive. It's starting to seem unsettling to compare her to food so much. Especially food that sounds delicious! (I say this as I lick mustard off my finger. Not sure why you should know that, but there it is.)
Generally, I find the pregnancy books I ordered to be fairly dull and not particularly well-written. One part I do enjoy is the "Dad Tips" in Your Pregnancy Week by Week. The authors advise expectant fathers regularly to:
- bring home flowers for no reason
- buy a present for your partner and the baby
- bring home her favorite dinner, or cook it yourself
Generally, they seem to be saying "Now that you've knocked her up, you better kiss her ass every chance you get." I am a fan of this advice, even if it is rather patronizing.
Fortunately Ivan is cooking dinner as we speak.
Generally, I find the pregnancy books I ordered to be fairly dull and not particularly well-written. One part I do enjoy is the "Dad Tips" in Your Pregnancy Week by Week. The authors advise expectant fathers regularly to:
- bring home flowers for no reason
- buy a present for your partner and the baby
- bring home her favorite dinner, or cook it yourself
Generally, they seem to be saying "Now that you've knocked her up, you better kiss her ass every chance you get." I am a fan of this advice, even if it is rather patronizing.
Fortunately Ivan is cooking dinner as we speak.
February 16, 2011
Miss Crankypants
While bursting with the need for connection, I started looking around yesterday for online pregnancy support groups. I thought it would be nice to find some ladies who were possibly experiencing similar issues and we could, you know, TALK. A few sites were recommended and I checked them out. One that seemed to annoy me less than the others was www.i-am-pregnant.com.
Shit. These ladies are really irritating to me.
To begin with, there are a whole host of abbreviations to learn. Por ejemplo:
BFP = big fat positive
TTC = trying to conceive
BD = baby dance (intercourse)
EWCM = egg white cervical mucus (yuck!)
You get the idea.
Another thing that seemed strange was that a huge contingent of the i-am-pregnant site contributors are trying to conceive (oops! I mean "TTC"). Shouldn't this be a separate forum? I mean, these ladies definitely should have the support they need, but isn't it just torture to be surrounded by pregnant women comparing notes? Plus, I've seen new users announce a pregnancy happily only to be pounced upon with, "I'm so JEALOUS. In what position did you have sex?"
This is another big deal, apparently. There are whole discussion boards of women comparing *in depth* how they had sex and recommending their positions to others. One lady swears that you should be in the sleeper section of a tractor trailer cab with your feet braced against the ceiling.
In response to all this silliness, one woman said, "Uh, how about the PENIS IN VAGINA position?" I think she and I could probably be friends.
This morning I was immediately irritated when one happy user announced she and her husband had just found out they were joining "team pink." Barfy McUpchuck Pants.
Some of it is educational. I mean, I'm learning all sorts of gruesome things about nipples that turn white, mucus plugs (*shudder*), and something ominous called the "bloody show."
Mama. Hold me.
Shit. These ladies are really irritating to me.
To begin with, there are a whole host of abbreviations to learn. Por ejemplo:
BFP = big fat positive
TTC = trying to conceive
BD = baby dance (intercourse)
EWCM = egg white cervical mucus (yuck!)
You get the idea.
Another thing that seemed strange was that a huge contingent of the i-am-pregnant site contributors are trying to conceive (oops! I mean "TTC"). Shouldn't this be a separate forum? I mean, these ladies definitely should have the support they need, but isn't it just torture to be surrounded by pregnant women comparing notes? Plus, I've seen new users announce a pregnancy happily only to be pounced upon with, "I'm so JEALOUS. In what position did you have sex?"
This is another big deal, apparently. There are whole discussion boards of women comparing *in depth* how they had sex and recommending their positions to others. One lady swears that you should be in the sleeper section of a tractor trailer cab with your feet braced against the ceiling.
In response to all this silliness, one woman said, "Uh, how about the PENIS IN VAGINA position?" I think she and I could probably be friends.
This morning I was immediately irritated when one happy user announced she and her husband had just found out they were joining "team pink." Barfy McUpchuck Pants.
Some of it is educational. I mean, I'm learning all sorts of gruesome things about nipples that turn white, mucus plugs (*shudder*), and something ominous called the "bloody show."
Mama. Hold me.
February 12, 2011
A little blog of fury
I think I lost a friend today.
I was meeting some friends for lunch this afternoon. I waited at the restaurant, looking forward to spending some time with some of my favorite people. Three of them were running late. The one to arrive on time is someone I've considered for years to be a dear friend, and she was the very first person I met when I moved to San Francisco and desperately needed friends. It had been quite some time since I had seen her, and I was genuinely glad to glimpse her face in the bustle of people on the sidewalk walking toward me. She looked tired. I hugged her and joked, "You're the only one on time!" She didn't say much, and we went in the restaurant. We hadn't gotten to talk in person yet about the baby.
When we went inside, I sat down at a table. She stood next to it, looked down and me, and said, "What is wrong with you?"
I was totally caught off guard, and said, "Excuse me?"
She said, "What were you thinking? With this child?"
My heart dropped in my chest. I met her eyes and said, "You know, I am really happy about this, and if you're not I don't want to hear about it."
She said very simply, "Okay. Bye." She spun on her heel and left, never looking back. I sat at the table alone for the next half hour trying to fight back tears.
I am so fucking angry, and so fucking hurt. A couple of friends for whom I have left messages when I tried to tell them my news have never bothered responding. A few people have asked, "Do you know who the father is?" A couple have inquired, "Can you even afford to being doing this?" One suggested ever so fucking gently that I should have an abortion and that this is just not a good time.
Right now I would kill to be one of those married women who has picked out trendy nursery colors and is already on waiting lists for the very best schools. People shit rainbows upon hearing her news and practically trip over themselves congratulating her. Instead of asking private, invasive questions, questioning her decision, and advising she abort the baby (for her own good, of course) people tell her she is glowing and chuckle that she'd better enjoy her sleep now because she won't get another full night for years.
I thought that having a baby was a joyful time. At home I carefully plan recipes loaded with vitamins and minerals, giggle over adorable hand-made baby hats on Etsy, and wonder if my baby will have a full head of hair. I want so very desperately to share this.
I was meeting some friends for lunch this afternoon. I waited at the restaurant, looking forward to spending some time with some of my favorite people. Three of them were running late. The one to arrive on time is someone I've considered for years to be a dear friend, and she was the very first person I met when I moved to San Francisco and desperately needed friends. It had been quite some time since I had seen her, and I was genuinely glad to glimpse her face in the bustle of people on the sidewalk walking toward me. She looked tired. I hugged her and joked, "You're the only one on time!" She didn't say much, and we went in the restaurant. We hadn't gotten to talk in person yet about the baby.
When we went inside, I sat down at a table. She stood next to it, looked down and me, and said, "What is wrong with you?"
I was totally caught off guard, and said, "Excuse me?"
She said, "What were you thinking? With this child?"
My heart dropped in my chest. I met her eyes and said, "You know, I am really happy about this, and if you're not I don't want to hear about it."
She said very simply, "Okay. Bye." She spun on her heel and left, never looking back. I sat at the table alone for the next half hour trying to fight back tears.
I am so fucking angry, and so fucking hurt. A couple of friends for whom I have left messages when I tried to tell them my news have never bothered responding. A few people have asked, "Do you know who the father is?" A couple have inquired, "Can you even afford to being doing this?" One suggested ever so fucking gently that I should have an abortion and that this is just not a good time.
Right now I would kill to be one of those married women who has picked out trendy nursery colors and is already on waiting lists for the very best schools. People shit rainbows upon hearing her news and practically trip over themselves congratulating her. Instead of asking private, invasive questions, questioning her decision, and advising she abort the baby (for her own good, of course) people tell her she is glowing and chuckle that she'd better enjoy her sleep now because she won't get another full night for years.
I thought that having a baby was a joyful time. At home I carefully plan recipes loaded with vitamins and minerals, giggle over adorable hand-made baby hats on Etsy, and wonder if my baby will have a full head of hair. I want so very desperately to share this.
February 10, 2011
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