June 25, 2012 § Leave a comment
June 21, 2012 § Leave a comment
My assistant has been helping me more than usual lately.
Making lists, and lists, and more lists.
Researching swings and mats and carriers.
Writing notes, reading books, making more lists.
Researching complications, and slapping laptops shut.
Heaving sighs, sipping tea, waiting for ‘House Hunters’ to start.
All the books say, “spend time with your pets!”
In a few months, I hope she’ll remember these, entire afternoons.
Friday nights, Saturday nights, Sunday nights.
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday.
Attention, attention, and more attention.
Of course, not all of the attention has been exactly the kind of attention
she probably wanted.
June 19, 2012 § Leave a comment
I was warned about morning sickness.
From week four till about week eight, I ate blissfully, even cockily. I got this, I thought.
From week nine to week 13, as long as I had something in my stomach, I wouldn’t feel nauseous, I wouldn’t dry heave, I wouldn’t throw up. Hunger and nausea became intertwined in my body in some nonsensical way. (There was a moment, at work, before it was widely known that I was expecting, when I straight-armed a partner in my single-minded focus on a. a trashcan or b. a toilet.) During these weeks, I relied on the basics.
Oh, Cinnamon Toast Crunch. I ate my way through boxes and boxes of you.
And Trader Joe’s Ginger Cat Cookies.
You were so good to me!
Thank you for your help!!
I kept a bag of each everywhere — my purse, my laptop bag, my car. These were the staples of my diet for more than a month. Later on, the nausea passed, but the growing baby would crowd my stomach, and I became my own worst enemy. Overjoyed that I was suddenly hungry, I would eat too much — and feel ill. (The worst of this happened at The Avengers, during which I mindlessly nibbled too much popcorn, and then sat in miserable, weeping silence for the last 30 minutes and in the car ride on the way home. Lesson, learned.)
Now in the second trimester, eating is again for nourishment, not a defensive tactic. Of course, I still have cravings for foods I haven’t eaten in a long, long time.
Like Cookies and Cream Pop Tarts.
And McDonald’s hot fudge sundaes.
And a Frosty from Wendy’s.
Holy crap, you evil foods are delicious!
I will remove you from my thighs eventually!!
I don’t hesitate to indulge these, now and then, sometimes more now than then.
Luckily, cravings for the foods that I truly used to love are starting to return, as well. These are the foods I could eat and eat and eat and never feel guilty about feeding to me, or this baby. Offensive, healthy eating, the kind I’m a little more used to, minus the grazing nights of cheese and glorious, glorious red wine.
What I’m craving now is more like a who’s who of what’s in season at the farmer’s market.
Like fresh strawberries.
And yogurt. (Fine, usually chocolate.)
And endive, and watermelon, and corn on the cob.
I missed you!!
I suppose we’ll see what baby girl wants.
June 15, 2012 § 2 Comments
Every week when I notch another week on the seemingly size XXXXXXXL pregnancy belt (seriously, this thing is neverending and I’m barely halfway), I get the BabyCenter newsletter, which for a certain period of time, became the highlight of the week. On this particular week, which is now many weeks ago, it said the following.
Your Pregnancy: 10 Weeks
Though he’s barely the size of a kumquat — a little over an inch or so long, crown to bottom — and weighs less than a quarter of an ounce, your baby has now completed the most critical portion of his development… — From Baby Center
A few minutes later, I noticed this thread on Facebook:
It was really hard not to comment: ONE OF THOSE IS INSIDE ME.
Which, in retrospect, would have been really confusing to people, and really awesome.
June 8, 2012 § 1 Comment
I’ve been taking long, rambling walks lately.
(My list of available hobbies and activities has slimmed considerably.)
And, I can’t help it: I find myself staring.
At nearly everyone.
My mind is strangely clear and focused, and yet jumbled by distractions, and I look at you and I stare for too long.
You, you in the sharp navy dress, tottering in your sky-high black platform pumps. You look so pulled together! I wonder where you got that dress. Do you have a meeting? Do you dress that fashionably every day? Doesn’t it get exhausting? Do your feet hurt? Your hair color is perfect.
You, you girls in your workout capris and your black and neon pink Nikes and your silky straight ponytail. You’ve got that post-workout glow, and look slim and toned and adorable! Did you take yoga? Bootcamp? I hope bootcamp. Bootcamp is so fun. All those burpees! You’re so lucky!!
You, you men sipping beers and smoking cigarettes. Oh, you lucky bastards don’t have a care in the world, do you? Nothing about your daily routine has drastically changed recently, has it? And it never will!! I might scowl at you a little bit.
You, mom with the baby in the stroller. You don’t look exhausted. Aren’t you supposed to look exhausted? You look cute! How old is that baby? Four months? Eight months? I have no idea. What kind of stroller is that? Quinny, huh? And the diaper bag, maybe I’ll just try to peek at what’s in it. No, no. I’m not a thief. Just overly curious. Pampers, huh?
You, little girl in the pink flowered pants riding the razor scooter. Were you born in all-natural ways, or did it come to a C-section? When did you start sleeping through the night? Do you even sleep through the night yet? OH MY GOSH, YOU BETTER.
Don’t punch me. I’m not trying to steal from you.
I’m just curious, feeling new envy about my old ways, and chewing on new thoughts and new questions about my new ways.
May 17, 2012 § 2 Comments
I’ve heard countless pregnant friends and their spouses talk about “Pregnancy Brain,” the loopy, distracted state that many moms-to-be find themselves frequently beset by. I assumed it was a bunch of bullshit.
It’s real and I was a fool to ever question it.
Took a pregnancy test a day for five straight days because I wasn’t buying it.
“Is it weather outside?”
–When I meant to ask if it was snowing.
Wiped my butt with makeup-removing wipes instead of one of those Cottonelle wipes. It wasn’t fun. In retrospect, I should never have put them in the exact same spot just one drawer above each other.
Got misty during the trailer for What to Expect When You’re Expecting. Two days later, sobbed uncontrollably during the climax of Tower Heist because they were up REALLY high and I’m really afraid of heights, and THEY WEREN’T BEING CAREFUL ENOUGH. Scott actually had to fast-forward to the ending to get me to stop crying.
(Watching pre-Super Tuesday coverage)
Me: I haven’t been following the election at all.
Scott: Do you want me to catch you up?
Me: I guess.
Me: (pointing to TV) And what about that Peter Alexander guy? What’s his deal?
Scott: Ummm. He’s an NBC reporter covering the election.
Me: Is John Carter some sort of Terminator prequel or something? I don’t get it.
Scott: (long pause) You’re thinking of John Connor.
Me: So … he’s like Linda Hamilton’s cousin?
Scott: (exaggerated sigh) It has nothing to do with the Terminator movies.
Shoplifted from Starbucks. It was an accident!! I bought a coffee and a bag of those crack-like glazed almonds to have for a snack later in the day. Later in the day, when I went to pull them out of my purse, I found two bags instead of one. Oops.
Repeatedly complained about how cold I was, asked Scott to turn up heat three times. Only then did I realize that I was resting on top of a pile of blankets instead of underneath it.
(Watching ESPN and a news report flashes on the screen: “Sudden Death at Augusta”)
Me: Oh no, who died?!?
Scott: (maniacal laughter)
(Watching ‘Moneyball.’ Five minutes into the movie, I hit pause.)
Me: Um, I have a question. Is this movie … about baseball?
Scott: (falls on floor from laughing so hard)
Me: I thought it was about gambling?
April 26, 2012 § 4 Comments
The props go to my husband. During the past few months, he has …
Provided endless foot massages.
Single-handed cleaned the litterbox, all by himself, day in and day out. (Ha, ha.)
Dutifully rubbed lotion onto my back every morning and night.
Cooked countless meals, some of which I suddenly couldn’t eat once they were in front of me, and some of which I immediately threw up after eating.
Happily spent long stretches of weekend afternoons at home while I caught up on the work I couldn’t do during the week because I was throwing up.
Secretly ridden his bike into Georgetown for Sprinkles cupcakes when I swore the only thing I thought I wouldn’t throw up was a cupcake. (I was right, I didn’t throw it up. [Fine. I didn’t throw them up.])
Barely blinked an eye when I would climb into bed at 7:30 at night and not move a muscle until the next morning.
Wished me goodnight from the doorway of the bedroom on the rare nights when he’d have a few beers, because I could smell those nasty hops from that far away.
Perfectly absorbed every undeserved bit of crazy, hormonal bullshit I lobbed his way.
Trucked all the cartloads and cartloads of “junk” I discovered during reverse nesting out of our place and to the thrift store.
Cheered me up after I sold the MINI for what some insensitive types knowingly and unknowingly referred to as my new “soccer mom” car.
Showed up early for every doctor appointment, held my hand through the scary parts, and only made one semi-inappropriate joke to my doctor (who made an equally semi-inappropriate joke in response).
Said incredibly touching things to me like, “I can’t wait till this baby is born, so I can finally be the one to take care of it for awhile.”
Said jokingly admonishing and completely endearing things to my abdomen like, “You are being a terrible burden on your mother! Stop making her so tired! And stop making her puke”
I’ve barely scratched the surface of all the ways I’ve leaned on Scott recently, but I know I wouldn’t have survived the first few months of pregnancy without him. And I know the only way I’ll get through the next many years of parenthood is with him. I’m so grateful, and so lucky, in so many ways.
(Baby arrives in late October, or ideally, as I told my doctor, early November. [The birthstones are better!] And yes I know that by 35 weeks I’ll be begging to be induced, it’s a joke, people.)