Little Precious

Is it bad that sometimes I refer to the Potential Person, Little Precious, Sweet Child O’ Mine, Junior, as ‘Little Bitch’? I never actually say it out loud, and there is a degree of fondness that you wouldn’t suspect. I do, however, feel some guilt about my sudden surges of anger towards such an innocent-appearing being.

Reasons I have called Junior ‘Little Bitch’ in the past 24 hours:

- Peeing ever 14 seconds in the middle of the night. The middle of the night is my sleepy time, not my get-up-and-touch-the-icy-bathroom-floor-with-bare-feet-56-times time. Other people who have children like to snicker when I complain about this, and say, ‘Oh, it’s just Nature’s way of getting you ready for night feedings’. I get the feeling that there’s more to this than they are telling me. Especially when they add, ‘Just be happy you can still make it to the toilet, because I pee myself every time I sneeze or laugh or the garage door opens’. People with children are not sympathetic to me complaining about getting less than a good 10 hours, I have learned.

- The nausea is not gone, just hiding. I was unloading the dishwasher and unsuspectingly threw up in the sink. For no good reason. So let me get this straight – leaning over perfectly clean, antiseptic dishes makes me yammy? Standing hurts my back, laying down I can’t get comfortable, and sitting gives me leg cramps? I will be spending the rest of the pregnancy in some sort of sling, I guess, sullenly watching my ass grow.

- My midsection is no longer a tool. I like to use various body parts inappropriately, as utensils and props and weapons. I open things with my teeth that I shouldn’t, I kick buses, and I like to shove things with my gut, or use it as a shelf. However, lately my laptop no longer fits comfortably on my lap, I felt a twinge when I tried resting a box on my abdomen yesterday, and I can’t lean against the sink to apply makeup (right, makeup, haha) the way I use to. It’s just darn inconvenient.

Only 19 weeks. So far to go still. Yes, I realize that yesterday 19 weeks seemed like a blink of an eye and that I was going to go into labor in like 3 seconds. Well, today, when I am tired, and surly, and want a cocktail, and have heartburn, and don’t have any pants that fit me so I will have to go out for dinner in some sort of makeshift parachute/old refrigerator box, it seems like a loooooooooooooong way off. And I still haven’t felt her move, which I am not as devil-may-care about as I previously let on. And I don’t want to do any more work, I just want to be on vacation. It's less than a week til Christmas, isn't there some sort of law? I shouldn't blame Junior for my grumpiness - there will be plenty to blame her for when she is actually here.

Ultrasound Pics

Sorry for the delay in getting these posted.

Say 'hi' to the nice people, Junior!

Here's Junior's little hand (making a defiant fist, I love it - power to the people!)

And here is the shot that shows she's a girl -

the three magic little white lines. Doesn't seem like much, does it?

Update and Holiday Wishes

Junior taught me a little lesson about wearing flats over the weekend. I went to a Christmas party at Cousin J’s, which was a lot of fun (got to chat with her brothers, which I always enjoy, and made some awkward small talk with our ex-real estate agent). I had a very cute dress that was flattering to Junior’s burgeoning figure, and shoes with matching bows on the toes. Flat, arch support-less, awful, yet cute shoes. Standing for a mere 2-3 hours resulted in a painful pinch in my lower back that I have as yet to get rid of. I feel like an old lady, with a pillow propped in the small of my back whenever I sit, and a groan when I stand. It’s exciting because, as everyone tells me, it’s all downhill from here.

I can’t believe I’ll see my family for the holidays in just 4 days. I’ll get to play with my crazy-haired niece, and tell all my high school buddies about Junior. I spent a very productive afternoon yesterday burning CDs for the drive, and am keeping my fingers crossed for decent weather. I’ve already started to receive gifts for the baby, which is freaking exciting. Cousin J got me one of those womb-sound teddy bears; it’s cute and cuddly and just a tiny bit creepy, but I’ve heard babies are very comforted and soothed by them, so I had actually really wanted one. Whatever works, right?

It’s nice that I’m in the twilight of the pregnancy, with no nausea, returned energy, and out-of-control hormones. I cry at ANYTHING now. The shortness of breath is a little weird (and makes me feel very sympathetic for asthmatics and hugely fat people), but I’ve adjusted to the sinus thing and thankfully no one shares my room so the increased drool and snoring goes unnoticed. I still haven’t felt Junior move, which should happen any day now, but I’m not too worried about it. I’ve seen it enough on the ultrasound screen to have patience for once, plus from what I’ve read I may be feeling it and just don’t know that’s what it is. I’m sure that once those 18.5 cm legs get going I’ll be aware of it.

I’ve finally started the dreaded weight gain, three pounds so far. My clothes feel like I’ve gained 75. Everything is tight except the newest yoga pants. At least I’m not wearing leggings, kill me if that happens. I haven’t noticed any breast growth yet, thank god. I already got rid of ‘em once! There’s some delightful stretch marks starting to form, and weird skin blemishes, which really help contribute to my overall feeling of gorgeousness. But knock on wood, my blood pressure has stayed pretty normal and there haven’t been any other red flags. Good job, Junior!

Happy holidays to everyone in case I don’t get another chance to post before I flee the country on Friday. I probably won’t be back online until the new year, so I hope everyone has a merry Christmas, lots of good food, rest and relaxation, and time spent with loved ones, whoever they may be.

Storytime

One of the many things I miss about Quiet is that he was always a great audience. I still think of him first when something stupid or funny or awful or happy happens. There have been a million such occasions since Thanksgiving, where I have picked up the phone or drafted an email or started to rise to go find him, then stopped when I remembered.

So here’s my list of 10 Boston Stories I Wish I Could Share With Quiet:

1. “How I Got Banned From the Logan Airport Avis Shuttle Service”, or, “Why I Kicked a Bus”, or, “The Day a Driver Threatened to ‘Break Both My Legs’”
2. “Scandalously Inappropriate Office Wear As Modeled by a Previous Manager of Mine Who Once Offered to Buy Me ‘Hello Kitty’ Underwear”
3. “My Bosses React to the News About Junior”
4. “Getting Lost in North Boston, In a Blizzard, At Night, In a Mustang – Crying Does Not Help the Tires Stick to the Road”
5. “1,000 Things I Love About Marriott”
6. “Cafeteria Curry – Never a Good Idea in ANY Trimester”
7. “Winter Sucks”
8. “A Corporate Office Worker Learns I Live With Loud – ‘Don’t Tell Anyone Else That You Even Know Him’”
9. “Wrapping Gifts for Needy Children – My Team’s Disappointing Taste in Wrapping Paper”
10. “The Time I Learned That My Last Pair of Dress Pants No Longer Fit – A Tale in 5 Straining Safety Pins”

And I’ve only been here a day and a half.

*sigh*

I miss Quiet.

Sorry, Junior

I am officially well into The Third Trimester, which seemed to follow the actual conception schedule rather than that lame adjusted doctor’s date which puts everything off two weeks. For me, the light at the end of the throwing up in the shower didn’t start to shine until around 15 weeks. Now that I’m in week 17 ½ it’s very exciting; the nausea is gone, the aching tiredness isn’t as all-encompassing, and I ate a burger last night for dinner (although, man, that half pound of well done red meat just about killed me after all this veggie time).

Boston is 23 degrees and very pretty and Christmas-y, but I forgot how much work cold weather is. Driving is harder, I’m terrified of falling on Junior in an icy parking lot, and I can barely move in 97 lbs. of turtleneck and sweater and long coat. Dragging a laptop bag through slush sucks. I had to scrape a windshield! At a time when I have been very seriously considering a move back to Canada sooner rather than later, this trip has been a harsh reminder of the reality of a Northern winter. Maybe I ought to stick to my idea of just going for six months; long enough to get away for a bit, but not a permanent move. Surprisingly I am for once wary of leaping from one bad situation to another.

House drama has, unsurprisingly, escalated already. Loud, earlier than I had expected, feels like he has a license to be a jerk because, as he snidely justified, “You’re going to have a screaming baby soon, so you can’t say a damn thing”. Quiet #2, who I actually feel very sorry for, has had a breakdown of his own. Who knows what games Loud is playing with him? I don’t even want to know, just like I have come to realize I don’t want to know what it is he has said to Quiet #1 that has likely contributed towards him questioning/being resentful of/feeling bad about/being able to walk away from our friendship. I’m tired of going around and around every day asking myself what exactly I’ve done or what I could possibly do to fix things.

I just feel like there’s something more I could be doing to avoid bringing Junior into such a toxic environment. I feel like I’m failing her as a mother right out of the gate by not providing her with a safe, supportive and happy home. She’s already resented and a source of contention and the truly hard part hasn’t even come yet. It seemed like this past weekend I ran into someone who knew me and the guys every time I turned around, and I just smiled and said everything was great when asked how things were; I can’t admit that everything is in shambles because I’m insecure about being judged, not just for choosing to become a single mother but because I can't provide and protect. I know that this situation can’t last forever, but a study I read the other day found that extreme stress can result in premature or low birth weight babies, which can affect their growth and development. I would never, ever forgive myself if I thought that Junior was affected in that way by something I had inadvertently caused. I’m incredibly jealous that the guys can deal with their crazy lives by drinking or smoking or popping pills or having random sex or whatever. I have got to stop letting it all get to me. I have got to stay focused on better days ahead, no matter how far.

Alistair No More - Introducing Junior

Remember how I said I was absolutely positive that I was having a boy? All that bunk about my theories, and the quizzes, etc.? The gorgeous blue baby blanket that I had started knitting?
As you have already probably guessed, I got a bit of a shock at Friday’s ultrasound appointment. The tech highlighted three little white lines and before she could even get the words out, I was already bawling. I was so happy that Junior’s Aunt J. was there to see it. I had been so darn certain that Alistair was an Alistair, it was a total shock – and while I knew that deep dn I really, really, really wanted a daughter (especially if this was most likely going to be my only one), it surprised me a little bit to realize just how excited I was about a girl. Think about it:

- Hand-me-downs from Cousin Amelia
- Able to accompany me in shady public bathrooms and change rooms despite her age without disapproving looks
- Ballet lessons
- Matching outfits (ok, that should probably actually fall under ‘Downsides’)
- Dollhouses, charm bracelets, Barbies, tea parties, dress-up, sleepovers
- Cooking together
- Mother-Daughter functions
- Shoes

There are also the downsides:

- Puberty
- Daddy issues
- Pregnancy worries until she’s 36
- Boys breaking her heart
- Did I mention puberty yet?

I just still can’t believe it. Another step on the road to ‘Making This Whole Thing More Real’. No more random, abstract ‘he’ thinking.

She.

My daughter.

Thoughts of Alistair in the Dark

Did you know that when I go to bed at night, I lay my hand on my just-starting-to-poke-out bulge and tell you good night? I don’t say it out loud because that would make me a crazy person, but I whisper it in my head. Word on the street is that your ears are just starting to function, and you will respond to sudden noises like a dog barking or Loud slamming stuff at midnight. But I’m a little freaked out by that, and plus I figure you’ll hear my voice plenty in the upcoming months. I do find myself patting you soothingly for no good reason at random moments; it’s a good thing I’m going to be telling my boss about you on Monday, because I would totally give myself away in the office if anyone caught me. Or they'd just think I was a weird fat girl.

Did you know that I’ve never been one of those people who wanted to have a baby so that I wouldn’t be alone? I think those people are horrible, especially the ones who raise a child to be their friend and confidant. I know new mothers who felt even more isolated after a birth, since they allowed their world to become constricted and wouldn’t let anyone in. I’ve always vowed to try my best to avoid both those things. Anyhow, the point I am trying to make is that I’ve been feeling lonely lately, and I realized that I will never be more NOT alone than right now; I have another person with me, at all times, someone whose needs are more important and who I have to put first now and for the rest of time. I am still getting use to the idea of the whole thing, obviously. It’s good that I have the ultrasound appointments so that I keep getting reminders, visual and audio proof, because at this point when I can’t see you or feel you yet, it’s just ridiculous to believe that you’re really in there.

Do you know how much you are wanted? Not just by me, either, there are lots and lots of people who continuously ask about your well-being and when you will arrive. People that I never ever expected to even understand my decision are offering support, advice, best wishes, and kindness. I have to tell you that I’ve had a lot of doubts lately about my decision. Not about having you, just about the awful timing of it. I hate the idea of bringing you into this house with all its drama and instability and sadness. I regret that things aren’t different, and I’ve thought a lot lately about how I would feel if I lost you right now. A teensy little part of me thinks that might be for the best. In a few years I’ll be back in a house of my own, away from all this. I would use an anonymous donor. I’d be older and perhaps wiser, or at least have more perspective.
But then I think about what I’ve gone through to get to this moment. The whole reason I’m in this cursed house, the unfulfilling job that is perfect for a single mom, the time and effort and emotional turmoil. I wouldn’t want all of that to be for nothing. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hold any of that against you; I just see it all as the price to pay, along with all the future sacrifices that will need to be made, for getting to have you. And despite the fact that I haven’t met you yet, I’m pretty sure that’s worth anything. I’ve had enough loss for this year. I know that no matter the bad timing I want you. I would have you tomorrow if I could. I’ve always wanted you, and always will, and would be utterly devastated to lose you. So stick around for a while longer. At least until January, apparently, I guess that’s the magic point where you could make it on the outside if you had to. Terrifying.

Happy Birthday, Dad

I have a feeling that I am going to have lots of little reminders sneak up on me as to just how badly I have already ruined Alistair’s life. My favorite was this weekend, when I was trying to choose a card for my Dad’s upcoming birthday. There were all the usual, ‘You’re the best dad in the whole world!’ (untrue), ‘You taught me everything I know!’ (also largely untrue), and ‘You always did what you thought was best, and though I am still bitter I can at least respect that you always told me you loved me’ (totally true, but they don’t make this card. Yet.). Anyhow, as I was saying, my favorite was (and this is word-for-word), ‘Psychologists say that the role a father plays is the most important factor in a child’s life’. Isn’t that awesome?! I dropped it like it burned me. Hallmark hates single mothers. And the gays, so I’ve been told.

Speaking of the gays, something so terrible that I haven’t been able to write about it happened last week. Quiet is going through something, something big, and part of that something is a) Making up with Loud (which I think, in part, is a good thing, because he needs to get through everything and I know it’s been horrible living here with him broken up), and b) Not being friends with me anymore. It’s that last one that I can’t figure out. I can understand that he still loves Loud and wants to be with him at any price (because, even though it might not be ideal, and I might not think it’s the best thing for him, the heart wants what it wants and I would never judge or be critical of that), but I haven’t really been given an explanation as to why our friendship is over other than that I have been manipulative somehow. I have given him the space he asked for, but still he won’t talk to me. I spent the weekend waiting for a tap on my door, hoping that he would finally tell me what he has decided (the last time we spoke he said he wasn’t sure about maintaining the friendship, and I am ever hopeful, even in the face of overwhelming odds). Was our friendship really worth so little to him that the cruelty is intentional, or is he just dealing with so much that he doesn’t see me, waiting here still, pride gone, hoping beyond hope that a friendship I value enormously, a friend I love dearly, hasn’t been taken from me in addition to everything else I’ve lost lately.

I think of my friend Jackie, I guess 10 years ago now, coming to me after I shattered her trust horribly, saying to me ‘The worst thing about all of this is, I am sick with heartache and you’re the one who did this to me – but you’re the only person I want to talk to about it’.
Yep, karma is a dirty bitch.

I just wish he’d talk to me.