Four Months...Give or Take a Week

Apologies. Still awaiting that glorious second trimester when the world is wonderful. Where I am fertile pregnant goddess with thick, silky hair, and boundless energy and patience. Currently, I am still sick. Two months of being congested, plagued by awful headaches, and an itchy chapped feeling face have left me exhausted, grumpy, and a bit bitter. Tonight I am riding the worst spell yet. Headaches that are so painful that I literally can not move for hours on end. I am attempting to sleep in the recliner because I am unable to breath laying on my back. It's all quite dreadful.

The blueberry seems utterly unaffected (of course one could argue he's a damn parasite sucking my life energy away but we won't go there will we?) His (no I have no clue about the sex) kicks grow stronger each day especially when I lay down at night. His nudges are reassuring as I plod through this fog of illness. H has felt him a bit which is pretty exciting. This pregnancy seems to be flying by....soon to end with my last baby. Funnily it feels so complete that I don't have any sadness over this image. With Piper I felt a bittersweet emotion every time I imagined her as my last one. I knew, I guess, that I wanted one more.

And Piper. I am sad about my baby girl. I find myself cuddling her, holding her on my lap, nuzzling her soft fat cheeks, her little neck. She squirms, eager to get away, to run and play with her siblings. It makes me sad to think that she's not the baby in so many ways. Sometimes, she still creeps into bed with us at night, and I relish the feel of her little body against mine. I bury my nose in her hair and inhale her scent. I know that when day comes, she will break from me to assert her own self into the world. When we go to the park, she runs with the big kids now, and I find myself panicking a bit but then remembering that Camille ran with these kids when she was four.

The other ones are home now. I will write more about this decision on their blog. Maybe tomorrow. But we are all happier and at peace. I love waking up to them! Not waking up to the dread of having to get them up. Umberto's already making more and more progress in his reading. Camille is nearly fluent. They act liked freed birds.

And I finally have a place to give birth. I had given up on my home birth, and had decided we couldn't afford the birth center. I didn't feel like I had in me to fight my insurance over this. Then about two weeks ago I got an email from the midwife who works at the birth center. It was about insurance, and I felt like it was a sign. While the OB practice I was going to was fine...it was just fine. I didn't feel happy about my decision. It was impersonal and no matter how much they tried to hype it, I was going to give birth in a hospital. I called her and made an appointment to meet. Of course we didn't have an auspicious start. H took my keys to work along with my wallet so I had to cancel about a half hour before I was supposed to be there. She was wonderful about it and we re-scheduled.

On Tuesday, I loaded up the beasties (they get to come to these visits) and we head to South Carolina. The center didn't look like much. A brick office building, bleak on a cold rainy day. I bundled up the kids, feeling discouraged. Did I want to give birth in an office building? But then we walked in, and Damaris came to greet us. I knew immediately this was the place and that she was the one. The inside was peaceful and simple. There was a quiet waiting room with a big TV (much to the joy of the beasties), two lovely rooms (Camille wanted the purple one) with big friendly looking beds and a birthing pool (I can have a water birth!!!!). The exam rooms were not doctor like at all. Damaris was wonderful. She spent a lot of time talking to me, getting my birth history, getting to know me and my concerns. She also talked to the beasties, and explained them to every step of the exam. She let them hear the heartbeat, and I will never forget the awe in their eyes. The way that Umberto sort of visibly melted. She understood that this was our baby not just my baby.

I have no idea how we'll afford it if the insurance doesn't cover it but we'll figure out something. I simply must give birth here. It's the closest thing to home.

Hopefully I will be back to write more. I have many things to write about. I have finally begun to read Proust and am now consumed by memory.

Early Nesting and Nurturing the Anit-Social

Pregnancy makes me a lousy friend. Or maybe being pregnant gives me an excuse to be a lousy friend. Or at least this pregnancy does. I'm honestly not sure if it's the pregnancy or me. My anti-social nature did kick in around the time we knew for sure. But it was there even before. Of course it's only gotten worst as I've gotten further along. Lately, I'm happiest just hanging out at home, with the family. I don't have any urges to go out without the kids. I am not really into entertaining parties, or even having people over.

There are some things I don't mind doing. I like going to the park and meeting up with people. I don't mind exchanging pleasantries with people when I bump into them. It's not that I hate people or hate everyone that we hung out with...it's just....

Maybe it's because I felt like I lost my way a bit in the spring. And now I feel like I'm home again, back where I want to be, happy, content, passionate about my life again. I just want to roll decadently in my life as it is. I want to be with H and the beasties. I feel like I'm rebuilding something here. And it's important to create this with just the family.

This is not an unusual feeling for me when I'm pregnant. I'm just used to it coming later. My nesting instinct usually comes in the third trimester. I only want to be with my family, in my home, getting things ready. Preparing for the new addition. But never has it come this early. And that's where I am. I find myself nesting. And it's not a space that I feel safe in sharing. I think it's why I am more inclined to go outside to see people. I don't feel so vulnerable out there. And if you asked me what I felt so vulnerable about, I am not sure I could put it into words. It's just there...

Naping

If there one thing a pregnant woman knows how to do its nap. These naps used to make me feel so guilty. I hated feeling so tired all the time. Perhaps having insomina has softened my attitude toward napping. When you don't sleep half the night, naps are often what helps you function. And you know I am growing another life inside my body...seems like one rather needs the energy to do such a feat. Now I relish my naps, don't begrudge myself them, and try not to beat myself because my house is a mess and I'm behind on my reading.

Today I really needed the nap. Camille was up on and off all night with a very high fever and a headache. Plus I had to get up and go pee a hundred times. The joys of pregnancy. And since Camille was in bed with us, I had a hard time settling down when I was finally able to go to sleep. I got up this morning to get the boys off, and then spent time puttering around the kitchen. I cleaned up a bit, and started to bring trash out, started on our dining room. By ten I was drained. I took a nap with great joy despite playing girls. I had the strange vivid dreams I only seem to have with pregnancy. This time we were in Mexico and I was so upset because Horacio had decided rather last minute to stay for an extra week. I kept explaining to him that we didn't really have the money to pay for this change. And then in the process of arguing with him, I realized we hadn't packed yet! I realized there was no way any of us were going to be able to leave that day.

I woke up though with an added bonus...a story idea all formulated in my head. This hasn't happened in about a year. It was very exciting to make my coffee planning out a story. Imaging the characters, figuring out the plot, and designing the stage.

Three Months! Three Months!

I'm sailing into that lovely second trimester where hopefully my energy will return and my "evening" sickness will abate. I was kind of stunned to realize that I'm 12 weeks already. Time doesn't usually fly for me during my pregnancy. And with this one, I am in such a different world space. I am in some ways not nearly as busy as I was with the other pregnancies, and in other ways I feel much more burdened. With the first three pregnancies, I was pretty much doing something full time: either school or work. This time, I am working part time, have all the kids in some kind of school, but yet I am more tired and more drained than before. I have a hard time trying to motivate myself to do anything. Yesterday I clean the fridge and that pretty much did me in for the day. I'm way behind on my course correcting. My house is a disaster area.

But for some reason, it's just not driving me crazy like it would normally.

A lot is not driving me as crazy as it normally does or did with my other pregnancies. My mood swings, as just one example, are off the wall. I alternate between a kind of earth mother serenity, sobbing over anything, and irrational anger and irritability. Before, the irritability particularly bothered me. I was upset at what I perceived as my demonstrable lack of patience with the children. This time around when these moments sweep over me, I have the good sense to go to my room, lay down until it passes while just allowing myself to indulge in the feeling. I know that it is not a reflection on me as a mother but more of a reflection of hormonal shifts.

But best yet is the simply being fairly okay with my body. I am not gaining the way I planned. I was going to gain as little weight as possible....be one of those fairly small woman with a "bump." Alas this has not come to be. Instead I am getting bigger each day. I gained about 5lbs in a month, and continue to climb. I do exercise everyday but my eating is not the best. I eat what I can and what I crave which isn't honestly always salad. Sometimes the thought of salad makes me want to vomit. Instead of lamenting, however, I am just accepting my body as is. I'm remembering that this a body I can be confident in...and honestly despite some typical aches and pains, I can't remember pregnancy ever feeling this good. I feel strong, and yes even earth mother like. I feel like I always thought I would during pregnancy but never did.

About two weeks ago, I felt that first quickening....just a tiny flutter of life. And today bending over, I got that dreadful cramp that comes from a fetus being balled up in one spot. There is life in there, and instead of freaking me out as it normally does, I felt this sense of peace.

I need this this time around. Gossip abound in my department. There are hints that this is going to cause me to lose a chance to teach in the fall. Due to some unforeseen circumstances (having nothing to do with baby) we are holding off grad. applications for another year. Of course this is already being attributed to my suspected pregnancy. I haven't told anyone in my department with the exception of Sean and a friend. But I am showing, and so people are talking. It had me in tears the other night. I feel as if I have more than proven I can do this with children but yet I am still continually doubted. It seems that as a woman there is nothing I could do to prove myself. I will always be seen as having burdened myself with children.

But when I feel those little things that let me know there is life in there, I don't care. My children are not burdens. They are the enrichment to my life. They are the completion I have spent a long time seeking.

Ginger Drops the Ball

Getting knocked up in the middle of a month long blog promise does not work so well. I always forget that during the first trimester I am utterly unable to function. It gets worst as I get older. Now I'm kind of stunned that I managed to work full time as I did. I do remember that upon getting home from the full time job, I just kind of collapsed into bed. And this time around is no exception. I'm tired. I'm trying to juggle two different schools for the beasties, volunteer somewhat at the big beasties' school, and feeling guilty for not even making parent meetings at the younger beastie's preschool. I'm also teaching two classes (one filled with slackers and whiners gifted with a strong sense of entitlement), and having to drive Piper 45 minutes out of my way to where my mom teaches. My mom who rocks then takes Piper with her to pick up the other two beasties. H picks them up on his way home. It's a hot mess. And top this all of with applying for Ph.D programs, and trying to fit in learning Spanish somewhere into the mix. It's not been relaxing.

Thus my blog writing has fallen to the wayside. And yeah I'll admit to FBing. It's easier really. But I am spending much less time there. I'm there but always offline, trying to avoid the inane chatting which too often sucked up too much of my time. Maybe I'll just scrap it. I've thought about getting rid of all my friends in Charlotte because hell they can see me, or call me or whatever. Then I'd just have those people who are in Maine or where ever. But I haven't got to that point yet.

But the second trimester is coming up...about four more weeks, and then I'll feel wonderful. I'm looking forward to having more energy. I need it.

And of course I'm struggling with all my weight issues. I was so determined to not gain a ton of weight this time around. I had this vision where I wouldn't even be showing until like my fifth or sixth month. I kept picturing myself as one of those skinny bitches with their little baby bumps. I continued to exercise regularly, watched what I ate....for about two weeks. I'm still going to the Y nearly every day, and when I don't do that, I walk for an hour or so with H. But the eating...I'm hungry quite literally every two hours. And if I don't eat, I feel sick to my stomach and dizzy. I'm already showing. Had to buy maternity clothes a couple of weekend ago since nothing fit me. It's very depressing for me to see myself naked and find this huge belly leering out me. It's not just a baby bump either but bump and fat. I know I'm going to get lectured by the Dr. when I go in on the first. I dread it. And yet I'm struggling to not be so neurotic about it. H adores me and finds me beautiful. My kids love my belly with the "blueberry" growing inside. It's all me. I know.

Hopefully I'll be on more. Writing. Sharing. Connecting with my friends.

Imposter

We were warmly greeted by a clean cut Hispanic man dressed neatly in khakis and a button down blue dress shirt. He pointed out a row of folding metal chairs to us, and we made our way to the seats. Those already seated (or standing in front of their seats) watched us with frank curiosity as we settled in. The music was upbeat with electric guitars and drums. Some people were starting to dance a bit, and more than half the audience had their hands in the air. When the fast song ended, the praise leader began a slow song, and more hands went flying up. The man next to us knelt down in front of his chair, speaking quietly under his breath, and then began to cry. A woman in back of us kept shouting "Oh Senor!" And more than a few people watched us closely to see what we do. A hand in the air would have marked us as insiders. Standing stiffly with our hands at our side showed that we were definitely outsiders, most likely in need of salvation.

But in that moment, I existed in some nebulous state between outsider and insider. The song they were singing, even in Spanish, was familiar to me. And the movement of the congregation was something that my body knew. It would have been easy, maybe even comfortable to raise my hands up during the worship service. Even when people began to speak in tongues, I recognized the moment. I knew when to sit, when to stand, what was going to happen before it was announced. But I also felt a repulsion to what was going on around me. Deep down there was an anger that always sat beneath the surface, that threatened to break out of the calm exterior I managed to show on the rare occasions I stepped into an Evangelical church. Part of the anger was aimed at the message of the church. I was angry at the way this church had shaped me when I was younger. Angry at the guilt and fear it had placed on me, and forced me to carry for many years. I was angry at the damage I felt the message caused the world in general.

The last time I had been in such a church, I had gone with my mom. I had, until that point, found it difficult to say no when she pleaded with me to attend. So I had gone. The pastor, an Indian man, who had converted in his early twenties, gave a sermon in which he denounced the false gods of his youth. I found the sermon said and repulsive. Listening a man drag his culture, his past, all that had shaped him through a filth bad of insults and ignorance. And I left shaking with anger. It was the last time, I went to an Evangelical church. Until now.

And now I was not sure why I was engaging on this journey. Part of the desire to put myself into this place as a scholar came from a desire to deal with my past. I had realized many years after that dreadful sermon that I too often dragged on my own religious upbringing through the same filth. I wondered if it would be possible for me to come a kind of intellectual understanding of this religion. The other part was a need to put to rest my religious past. To bury what the damage it had caused once and for all. I felt that if I could somehow make out of the Pentecostal experience an intellectual engagement then perhaps the fear and attraction I felt for religion could be understood and perhaps laid to rest.

Birthday Post

Yesterday was the actual birthday but I plead time spent with my family (including my mom who brought me a yummy cake), coupled with feeling kind of ill early in the evening. Today is just as good right?

So what did last year bring? As always a mixture of pain and joy. But the joy was definitely the overwhelming winner as it has been since I meet H. This summer I let myself surrender to my life. I embraced the joy and walked into the light that is my family. I stopped being afraid of being happy. I stopped worrying if it was "weird" to have my husband be my best friend. I fell in love again with H...with his humor, his intelligence, his love for me and the beasties, and of course with his handsome self. I relished every moment we had together, and took deep pleasure in the simple moments of just holding hands at the pool, or catching each other's eye across a room. And I slid into the joy that comes from the crazy, intense, subversive, brilliant family we've created with the beasties.

I finish my MA on my terms. I wrote the thesis without compromise. And I lived to tell the tale. I learned to value my adviser as I should have valued him before. He was amazing, and his guidance gave the room to create. That's a pretty special gift to give a student.

And this year, I come to my birthday (which is nothing but a beginning and an ending) with a new life growing inside me. It's only a tiny spark right now but soon it will be a person. Another beastie to grow up. Already the year ahead is filled with promise, and dare I say, joy?