July 17, 2009

• It’s the Final Countdown!

  Roughly six more weeks to go of this pregnancy business before Fetus becomes Baby on September 1. Winter seems like a thousand years ago.

  In the early days of this pregnancy, my world was chronically gray and tempuratures hovered around thirty below. I waited for the bus with tears freezing in the corners of my eyes. I wore two coats and wished I owed a burka. At work, I felt hung-over. At home, I was in bed by 8. While we wanted to have a kid, and I was in the process of getting healthy enough to do so, the timing of this fetus’ conception was not what you’d call “planned.” We wanted to wait until Shaun secured full-time employement again, until our debts were paid down, until this world-wide recession is over. Seeing a pink plus sign emerge on pee-stick after pee-stick made me feel wildly out-of-control. We barely had money enough to cover our own asses; how could we afford a plus sign? Deeper still, I felt really stupid. It’s not like I don’t know how to prevent pregnancy; Shaun and I have been together for eleven years.

  Emotional isolation finally drove us out of the pregnancy closet around the twelth week. I don’t know what I was expecting to happen when we broke the news to people (to be reprimanded? shunned?), but I was *shocked* at the outpouring of unbridled enthusiasm from our friends, family, and colleagues. I had been so worried and feeling so dog-tired and gross that my brain hadn’t acutally had time to realize that the Plus Sign was a happy thing. A thing that people wanted to help us with, to nurture, to rally around. All the gloom that I’d carried around for three months suddenly disapated. I was fine. Better than fine. I was great. Wonderful. Amazed and amazing.

  Weeks ticked by and Plus Sign became Grain became Mantis became Fetal Friend. Most days, my body feels healthy, strong, and full of energy. I work out at least three times a week. I’m enjoying my friends and my career. I sometimes feel as if my partner and I are dating again, scrawny teenagers introducing ourselves to eachother and liking emensely what we see.

  Little by little, same as before, Shaun and I will continue to piece together a sustainable future together. Only this time, that future dosn’t hold a hypothetical offspring. It holds a daughter.

  The further I get into this eigth month, the more I notice that there are days when I just have to let Fetal Friend take me where she needs me to go. Gory details:
         
  1.) The weight of my belly makes my hips decay in the night; most mornings, my hips feel ancient and rotted. Thank god my morning commute requires a 15 minute walk to the subway; once I move around a bit, everything feels alright.
         
  2.) Somedays (like yesterday and today), my pelvic area aches and reduces my usual fast stride a slow waddle. I’ve been told this is “growing pains,” but it feels like I pulled my groin playing soccar.

  3.) Some nights, Fetal wants me in bed before the sun goes down.

  Most days, however, things are good and I feel great. Besides, it’s not the pregnancy that’s been keeping me too busy to blog, it’s life…
     
  In late June, early July, my mom and I stayed with my grandparents in Colorado. Grandma cooked every evening, grandpa did all the driving, the fruit bowl was always full with loads of delicious apricots and cherries. Most days, the grandparents took mom and I on pretty little mountain rambles. Afternoons were spent reading novels. Evenings were spent conversing over delicious dinners. I love my grandparents.

  
  The grandparents, me, and a 31-week-old Fetal Friend in Estes Park.
  
  12,000 feet above sea level.
  
  A grassy knoll.
  
  This is what a day dream looks like.
  
  House cats love mountains.
  
  Why do elks always stop to take pictures of groups of humans?
  
  Four generations of ladies. (One lives in my guts.)

  We also spent two evenings with my aunt, uncle, and cousins in Longmont, where we were fed gormet meals on a beautiful back porch. Everyone seems so comfortable and at ease with eachother at my aunt and uncle’s house. My cousins don’t publicly display any signs of teenage snotiness; they are sweet, conversational, and seem genuinly happy to be part of the family. My aunt and uncle have done such a fine job at life.

  
  From left: Grandma, Aunt Susan, Grandpa, Kaitlin, Zander, Uncle Keith, Me.

  There was also afternoons spent looking at art at BMOCA and MCA Denver. Both museums were a trip, but most days I was just content to be breathing sparkly fresh air and having the tallest thing around have nothing to do with anything people made.

  Shaun is absent from these snaps because he stayed behind in Chicago to start an internship. If you’re wondering what a highly educated proffessional a month shy his 30th birthday is doing interning, it’s called “When Life Gives You Global Economic Melt Down, Make Lemonaide!”

  Shaun is still freelacing up a storm (he’s actually interviewing Zachary Quinto for an article today, and of this I have mixed feelings about. It’s weird when your husband chats up your Holywood crush, you know? Especially when it makes you realize that they look vaugely similar…), but securig full-time, stable employment has been elusive this year (welcome to America circa 2009!). Anyhow, Shaun figured that he’s more likely to meet professional contacts interning than freelancing from the kitchen table. The man has a fine attitude, that’s for sure. I can only aspire to be as calm and collected as he in the face of a shit storm.

  Other than that, not much is new. I’ve been reading lots lately. Work is busy and good as I prep the department for my maternity leave.

  Tomorrow, Shaun and I are attending a horribly named baby class called Great Expectations!, where we get a tour of the hospital, learn birthing techniques, and get a briefing on what to do with the little squid once we bring her home. Typically, people go to these classes throughout their pregnancy, but somehow we got busy so we’re doing the condensed version tomorrow from 8.30am-4.30pm. Yikes.

  Next week, Shaun is on assignment at the San Dieago Comicon (yay money!) and I will be hosting my step dad (not to be confused with my mom’s husband, which we can now start referring to as Grandpa Rick) and his girlfriend. The weekend following, we’re off to Mighigan to celebrate a 50th wedding anniversary. When we get back, my colleagues at work are throwing me a baby shower, which is so so sweet, but sort of crazy and I just have to go with it because, you know, it’s my boss and stuff. The week following it’s our Infant CPR class so that we know what to do if she stops breathing, and then before you know it: BABY COMES OUT OF VAGINA.

  Tonight we scored free tickets to see an improv musical staring Stephnie Weir and Nicole Parker (MadTV), Rachel Dratch and Seth Meyers (SNL) and Jack McBrayer (30 Rock). The show is at 10.30pm and I worry that I’ll be a sleepy, waddling preggo (me groin!). We’re meeting up with friends at a haunted pub before hand, too, so falling asleep would be extra anti-social.  We’ll see how it goes. If Fetal needs me to stay home and go to bed, I will. But I’m really trying to enjoy my last bit of not-arranging-and-budgeting-for-a-sitter time before it’s too late.
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  What are you up to these days?

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