This kid is trying to KILL me. I told him that the deal was that he stop making me nauseous at 16 weeks just like his big brother Ben. But Noooo. He has to be different. He has to stand out and make his mark. Oy!
pregnant
The 10 lb. Rule
I had an amnio yesterday and so for the next two days I am not supposed to lift anything more than 10 pounds. This was pretty easy the first time around. But now...oy! How do I get my almost 40 pound kid in the car seat? And if he is not doing what I want him to do, how do I get him to do what I want without just picking him up (my usual strategy)? And you would be surprised how many things weigh over ten pounds. Like groceries and corgis that need to go to the vet and can't jump in the back of the car by themselves.Luckily, on the way home from the vet, I stopped at 'In N Out' and had no trouble lifting my cheeseburger into the car. That was my reward for the fact that we found out yesterday that we are having ANOTHER boy. I am tired just thinking about it. As my friend Lisa (who has THREE boys) said when I told her the news, "It's fun. Loud. But fun."
Thinkin'
If there is one thing that being pregnant, nauseous and depressed gives you, it's time to think. I spend whole days staring at the walls pondering past events and people. Some of the nostalgia is fun, other parts less so. I spend sleepless hours in the middle of the night writing blog entries, even feeling the keys underneath my fingers, only to forget my perceived-to-be wise words the next morning.Most often, I find myself thinking of people from my past who I am no longer in regular contact with. People who were a big part of my life and then time and circumstance caused them to no longer be so. One person I have thought about a great deal.
I met my friend Bri in my very first year of art school. She was in my computer class and even though it was at 8 in the morning, she talked incessantly. As with all of the people who later became my close friends, I disliked her at the onset. She was young (a good twelve or more years younger than me) and outspoken and didn't seem to care what people thought about her. I can't remember when the tide turned, but I soon found her to be wise beyond her years and a great person to talk to. I can't think of her without the perpetual cup of coffee she had in her hand or the cigarette in the other. We spent countless Friday nights at the local bar drinking and talking with a group of our peers and I remember it as one of the most stimulating times of my life.
I don't talk to Bri much at all since she moved back to Arizona. I am terrible with long distance communication and Bri is definitely one of those people who is better 'in person'. But I think of her often and I remember how smart and funny and what a great writer she is. And I feel nostalgic for a time that is frozen in my mind, but gone. I don't even have a photograph of Bri, but I see her in my mind, with her hair coiled on her head and that big grin shining back. And each morning when I walk to the fridge for milk for my morning coffee, I look at this card she made in school, and I smile.
The Buck Stops Here
Motherhood is like an ill-fitting suit that I am having to get used to. It's a daily adjustment. Just when I get one part of fitting like a glove, another part rips a seam or loses a button. I was not one of those women who always wanted children. I just sort assumed that some day I would have them. I would get pangs from time to time, but overall I just viewed parenthood as an adventure that I did not want to miss out on in life. And so I got pregnant.My first pregnancy was hellish with 4 months of constant nausea and six months of an itchy, all-over body rash. I was depressed and desperate for some physical relief from my symptoms. I went to see a homeopath in Berkeley. To be honest I still do not know exactly what a homeopath does, but I was ready to try anything short of morphine. After a lengthy intake which felt more like therapy than a doctor's appointment, she prescribed herbs. When those did not help, we tried more and then more. Still no success. When she had asked me about how I felt about having a child in our initial session I was honest. I said that I was ambivalent. That I knew I would have to give up a good deal of my freedom and independence. And I knew that I was not good with 'needy' and a baby is nothing but NEEDY. When nothing seemed to be working she informed me that she thought my nausea was due to my ambivalence about having a child. I almost fainted. I felt like I was talking to some old, male doctor, rather than a young, female, hippie Berkeley homeopath. Once again, it was blame the mother. It was MY fault that I was sick. I of course let her know that her services would no longer be needed (okay, I really did my passive-aggressive usual and just never called her back). I did, however want to call her back when overnight the nausea stopped at week 16 (a common time for first trimester woes to end) and ask her why I still felt ambivalent, but no longer nauseous. Wonder what she would have said about the rash? She probably would have told me that I am the devil's spawn. The culture of blame and guilt among women and moms is unbelievable.I was photographing a wedding a few weeks ago and this little girl was wandering in the women's room and I overheard some women say "Where is her mom?" Not PARENTS or FATHER but MOM. Because of course the mom is responsible for this child every waking moment. When Ben was just 6 months old we went to Maine to stay with Josh's mom. One day we were all dividing up among two cars and I opted to go in the convertible which was the car that did not contain a carseat. My mother-in-law asked me "What about Ben?" I then informed her that he did have a father who would be driving the other car and that we were not planning on abandoning him to wolves. The adjustment to this new suit has been a slow process for me. I have not gone willingly into the land of June Cleaver. I often ask myself why others seem to like it so much when I find most of child rearing to be ceaselessly boring. I still do not know what the answer is to that question. But as I being to embark on the possibility of having two children, I am frightened that what little autonomy I have been able to keep will disappear completely. Childcare for two children is ridiculously high and I make ridiculously little money so I am of course a candidate to stay home with them. But what if I would go bonkers doing it? It hardly seems fair that if women want children that they must bear the brunt of the care while men are able to have their children and their careers too.
Nausea
Some people are good at nausea and being pregnant. They continue to go to work, shower daily and dress nicely. They are valiant even in the face of constant visits to the bathroom. They are like the woman described in The Girlfriend's Guide who goes to the sing-along group of her older child, goes out to throw up and joins the group again without missing a beat of 'Wheels on the Bus'. As the author says, she is an inspiration. I am most definitely NOT this woman.I am not the woman who LOSES weight because she throws up so often. I am the one who gains a ton of weight from eating too much in order to keep the throwing up at bay. Because if there's one thing I hate, it's puking. And trust me, after many nights of heavy teenage drinking, I am a veritable expert. I am the woman that people point at and say "When do you think she last showered?" I am the one in the supermarket people think looks like crap. I AM George Constanza, wearing sweatpants and showing people that I have JUST GIVEN UP. I am not valiant in the face of adversity. I curse the world and all glowing pregnant woman for this ordeal. I am in week thirteen of HELL. And if all goes like the last pregnancy, I will soon be breaking out in a rash that will spread all over my body, itch like hell and last until the baby is born. It will then heal up only to leave big scars all over my legs and arms. At least with the last pregnancy I still thought there was a snowball's chance in hell that I could be a good mom as I watched the moving image of a baby on the ultrasound. Today I had an ultrasound and while my son was being finicky and my mom was trying to calm him down so that I could focus on the screen, I fell asleep. At least when the tech asked how many pregnancies I have had, including terminations and miscarriages, my mom already knew the answer to that question. Otherwise, that would have been a hell of an awkward moment.