17.5

I think I'm turning an emotional corner on my pregnancy. I'm four months now. I get aches, pains, fatigue, but the kicks are becoming a gentle reminder of what I'm doing this all for. And that helps. I went to the midwife today and apparently feeling them at 16 weeks is early. Not inconceivable, but early, especially for a first-time mother.

What can I say? I have IBS and no torso to speak of. I'm intimately in tune with my body's inner workings at all times. Usually it's doing something unpleasant.

The Dude the other day wanted me to take Tylenol for my aches and I got annoyed. I thought he was tired of having to massage my back. But after getting grouchy I realized that wasn't it. He just gets frustrated seeing me in pain and wants there to be something I can take to make it all better.

Well, if I took a painkiller every time I felt uncomfortable, I'd be dead of a Tylenol overdose. I've long known I had a cervix, but only now am I acutely aware of it as I get sharpish jabs from time to time. My menstrual cramps were always something I felt in my legs, like my blood was too thick to circulate and laid there stagnant and pulsing. So I never really sensed my uterus before. Now I do, all the time.

It's such an in-body, out-of-sort experience to lay your hand low on your own abdomen and feel a firm melon-like presence there. I just felt a kick. It's doing some manner of jig in there.

I feel a number of old concerns of mine slipping away. I'm freed from the worry I'm so bloated I look pregnant. I am pregnant. No more sucking it in for me. I'm not conscious of my waddling walk (due to bowed legs and misaligned feet-- thanks for pointing that out and making fun of me throughout school, classmates) because waddling is just so much more natural feeling now. I don't worry about my productivity or excessive sleeping. I'm sorta busy making something every day and I'm totally allowed to nap, nap, nap.

This is also the only thing I feel like blogging about right now. I live with this 24/7. Each moment is a moment spent pregnant and I find it impossible to forget about it. I find myself able to converse about many other topics, but my overwhelming need is to let these thoughts out and share them. I'm being physically transformed too quickly to get used to the changes. I'm really along for the ride, basically.

It's 3:00 a.m. Perhaps to bed?

Thanksgiving Schlep

You know what sucks worse than taking the bus back to your hometown for Thanksgiving? Paying $320 to get there. Seriously. The Dude's licence expired over the last MTO strike, so he had to start over and since I don't drive, myself, he only has his G2. Which means no renting a car for us. And a car would have been slightly cheaper. And it would have been a car.

So, we'll be spending the holidays with my family, as usual. There's always a big family dinner of at least 20 people and tasty food. It's been dwindling and growing simultaneously over the years, as people move, find love and/or have children and either defer to their spouse's family or remains with us. I'm not 100% sure what category the Dude and I will fall under after the baby is born.

I imagine we'll still make the trek from time to time. We have family in the same city, so it'll be important. And car rentals are inexpensive compared to owning a car, which due to the TTC I don't believe we'll need regularly, so not having a vehicle of our own shouldn't be too much of an impediment to travel.

But still. Changes. Life chugs on. It's going to be time for us to create our own traditions in our lives, and packing up our child and driving three hours to see extended family each holiday isn't likely to survive. The commute is a bit much for a small child, who likely would rather stay home and hunt Easter eggs or open presents from Santa than schlep to various houses in a city hours away.

Probably we'll be able to keep up with Thanksgiving. The big family dinner is exciting and delicious and a time to enjoy little-seen family members. Nothing we could do at home would be able to match the fun. But as for the rest of the year, I'm thinking random trips up will be all we can manage. And they'll be packed and harried with all the different households we'd have to visit, never mind trying to see friends. How easy life would be if we all lived in the same spot.

I feel the baby kick more and more all the time, especially at night. It's a reminder things are about to get very different very fast.

The Kicker

Feeling a baby kick inside of me is so weird. I appreciate the assurance that my fetus is alive and well, but... dude. Something, a human entity I've not met yet, is poking me from inside my body.

I have a real love of children. I want a family. I enjoy being female. And the most feminine of womanly things you can do (use your uterus to make life) ain't coming naturally. I mean, it is. It's all working without my input or continuing participation. I don't will my pregnancy to fruition each day. It sorta handles itself. But whereas some women rejoice in every kick and flutter, I'm like, "Huh? The heck? Oh. Right."

Thoughts of the future are pretty much taking over my thoughts these days. I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for an infant, attempting to visualize how I'll manage, the way I'll spend my days. For awhile babies poop every time they nurse. And they nurse every two to three hours. Think of that. Think of the poop.

I wonder sometimes at the ability to bond with a fetus. I want to be pregnant, I'm pleased about it, but other women go gung ho and are over the moon about their unborn. I'm not. I know nothing about him or her. I don't think I'm capable of real love without interaction. I'm 17 weeks along in two days. That's not even halfway there. It's mind-boggling for me to consider.

I'm thinking of what it will be like to see my baby for the first time, to see a first smile and hear a first word and listen to baby giggles. Those thoughts soothe me when I think of the poop.

Something that's getting me is the hormonal sobbing fits. I've been crying over things like my mother, or even Smokey. And then for good measure, I get weepy over old episodes of the Gilmore Girls or especially sentimental commercials. I'm not irritable at all. Just overly emotional about memories, people, feelings and ideas. Basically life.

I wish I wasn't doing this alone. Women are getting pregnant and giving birth all around me, except in my actual life. I could use a friend at the same stage of life, someone to whom this isn't foreign or far behind them. Maybe at prenatal class I'll meet someone I connect with.

Home

I'm back from my trip to see my family in Vancouver. And just like that, it's done. I can't believe I'm home. When I'm with them, it's like old times. A large part of the visit is always revisiting the past. We experienced so much joy together and went through so much sadness. And I have a deep emotional need to discuss these things and remember and reminisce, and only with them can I truly do that. With everyone else, I'm telling stories.

It was hard to say goodbye. With my cousins, they saw me off earlier, but with my aunt it was at the airport and the finality hung in the air. I was going and I didn't know when I was coming back. My aunt looked sad and I lingered at the security gate and waved. "It's not forever," I said. But it kind of felt like it might be.

My aunt is sick. And I think she's likely to get sicker still if she doesn't retire and care for herself. But she said she's lonely. Work offers companionship, contact with other people. All her old friends who love her are back here in Ontario. I can see how this problem would contribute to her poor health.

My cousin is planning on parenthood in the very near future and I think having a grandchild would transform my aunt's life for the better. The social life at work wouldn't be equal to the joy of being a grandmother. She's a big believer in people changing. Maybe that would be the change of life that would get her to slow down and get better. I don't want to consider life without her. She's so far away, but I would feel the loss terribly.

My cousin has a lovely co-op apartment that she's recently moved into. It's gorgeous, well-maintained, . The co-ops in this city are old, crumbing or in poor areas. The few charming ones have closed wait lists. There is a real rental crisis going on in this place. They could take lessons from the Vancouver area. Not in the homebuying market, no, but with rentals at least there seem to be good options.

My other cousin was doing well. He's such a charming and anxious sort of person. It's hard for anxiety to be sweet and pleasing, but he manages it with a great sense of humour. Sensitive soul, he is. His sister is the practical one, the planner, reliable and always thinking forward. I like the idea of us both being pregnant at the same time, which is very likely to happen.

I felt the baby move for the first time while in Victoria. We spent the weekend there touring around, taking it easy and while resting in the hotel room, there it was. Boop. Boop. And I knew what it was. It was the first non-painful, rather pleasant sensation of pregnancy I've had thus far. It was nicer than the ultrasound, which flared up my heartburn and forced me to hold back bile from escaping. It was sweet.

My abdomen has grown and I'm obviously and noticeably pregnant at only 16 weeks. I really want to enjoy this. I do. I've quit trying, but I'm still holding out hope it'll start to feel positive soon. It kind of reminds me of one giant IBS attack. Maybe if it stopped feeling like that, I'd enjoy myself more.

This sucks, and that's okay with me

3:00 a.m. and all is well. I'm getting on a plane in 13.5 hours to go to Vancouver to see my family (w00t!) And no, I'm not asleep in bed. Can't sleep, Clown'll eat me. Colour me an insomniac, an insomniac who hasn't packed. A scatterbrain.

So, I'm not a hesitant packer. I have a toiletry bag and I'm not picky about what I choose to bring with me anywhere, my laundry is mostly all clean and available, so I'm not concerned. But I could forget things. I do that sometimes. I forgot my wallet when I was 21 when I took a solo trip to the UK for three weeks. That was an adventure. You'd think I'd be super vigilant now and planning ahead and such.

Nope.

I did, however, make time today to get my hair done. After nearly four months of looking like ass, I'm cute again and my head looks presentable. Priorities.

It was fun talking to the salon ladies about my pregnancy. They were happy for me and found my offhand complaints about it funny. I enjoy making a well-worded complaint. It's very satisfying to laugh at your irritations and acknowledge them with jokes rather than putting on a fake smile and trying to behave the way you're expected to.

I know maybe not everybody would enjoy my distaste for pregnancy. People like glowing, happy pregnant women flush with excitement over new life, feeling connected to their babies. But dude, that just ain't me. It's not going to happen. I thought it would. I hoped I'd feel differently, but I accept now I simply prefer if I am the only entity occupying my body. And that is totally okay.

Some women might feel a little movement and get emotional, wondering if it's the quickening. I feel flutters in my lower abdomen and I think, "That's either my kid or a fart collecting momentum. If it's a fart, I better not be in public this time."

At the ultrasound, seeing the fetus for the first time, an excited mother-to-be might marvel over her baby and feel a wave of love. Me? I cursed my heartburn while watching my baby flip around, thinking it resembled a frog.

I've describe the sensation of the ligaments in my womb stretching as "My uterus is elbowing me." Because it totally feels like that. My midwife assured me it was natural and healthy. I was like, "Yeah, that's good. What a pain in the ass." It doesn't hurt exactly, but it always surprises me. I could be sitting around anywhere and then ZAP. POKE.

(The Face. Awesome YouTube video.)

Come on, uterus. That's not cricket.

I dunno, somehow by embracing the fact this sucks, I'm starting to dig the whole thing a bit more. I think the key is not being concerned about how other people feel. It's my experience and I'm completely allowed to think it blows, say so, and make jokes at my own expense, if that makes me feel better. And it does. I love dark humour. It makes my world go round.

There are "anti-brides" out there who march to the beat of their own drum. I'm the anti-preggo. Imma eatin' sushi. I'm gonna colour my hair. I will plan a natural home birth and research cloth diapers, and nuts to anyone who tries to talk me out of these things. I shall kvetch and moan about my warped and mangled body and crazy symptoms and laugh at the indignity of making life. I will develop a yelp for when people touch my belly without asking permission. I will follow my midwifes' information and my own judgement over other people's hysteria or misinformation about what I can and cannot do.

And in these ways, I'm reclaiming my body. Oh, I'll still share it, willingly and without reservation. Roughly 25 more weeks of sharing left. Have at it, you little avocado. Enjoy my calcium. But I don't have to follow anyone else's script about who I should be, what I should feel or what I should say while I'm doing it. I'm doing pregnancy the way it feels right to me.

Preggo sick

I have a cold, a cold I can't treat with plentiful amounts of over-the-counter offerings. I want so badly to take things that would offer me some refuge from this. I can honestly say that a pregnancy cold is something more insidious than your non-preggo cold. You're already more tired and achy than normal, so throwing cold symptoms on top of it without the ability to take whatever drugs you want for it, you're in for a bad time.

I don't normally get sick, but pregnancy does lower your immune system, which is to protect your fetus from being attacked as an intruding force. And that sorta makes sense. "Hey you! Yeah, buddy, you who's feeding off the organs there! Knock it off! Pew-pew!" A lazier immune system that'll give this foreign body a pass is something of a must. Too bad getting sick fast and hard goes along with it.

14.5

I'm 14 1/2 weeks pregnant. I have started to transition from being thick to popping out, but if I eat or drink anything, my abdomen explodes into massive proportions and I look like I'm five months along. The only time this works out is if I'm about to take the bus. Looking pregnant on the bus tends to get you a guaranteed seat. At least so far.

God, it's so bizarre to be with child. I mean, I always thought I'd like it. It was a life experience I looked forward to. But I think I had rose-coloured glasses on. I'm excited at the thought of my own child, but I don't love being pregnant. Mostly, I don't relish the constant fatigue I'm experiencing. In six months I'll be busy and encumbered by responsibility and now is the time to get out and enjoy my freedom. But I'm too dang sleepy.

The Dude has started clearing out his unnecessary junk and has begun selling off things we don't need, all to make room. It's step one to baby prep. I enjoy the growing sparseness. I know we'll be bringing things back into the house (crib, stroller, high chair, etc.) but I really want to keep things simple. I don't want to over-do it. Any time I've walked into someone's house and it's been taken over by children's things, I shudder. Not in my house.

My mom had all our toys out of the living room. Most of my stuff was in my bedroom, and a couple things in the rec room. There was sanctioned adult space and that's what I hope to create in my own home. Obviously with a baby, you have to be relaxed about things, but I can ban battery-operated noise-and-lights toys from my house, at least. Actually, that reminds me of another rule my mom had: no toys that require batteries. 

(Actually, there was one exception: my Gameboy. Mom got super good at Dr. Mario. God, I miss her.)

I keep thinking ahead to the first few months of breastfeeding, waking up at night, changing diapers and doing lots of laundry and developing a routine and trying to get some sleep. It's going to be a wild ride. I really hope I won't have to do it alone. This is where I try not to think about my mom too much, because I know she'd come down for two weeks and stay with me. It's better not to focus too much on what you've lost. You can drive yourself crazy that way.