Happy New Year!

I turned 41 yesterday, had a super nice day filled with warmth, love, and treats for the eyes, nose, and tummy. Life is good.

On the cuckoo mom-to-be freak side, I have been worrying myself sick with whether I'll be a good mom, whether I'll be too old to keep up with my kid...am I poisoning my child by taking unisom and 1/2 dose antidepressant? Would it be better to be sad, sick, and chemical-free? Will my child be an alcoholic? Drug addict? What if I fall down? Why hasn't the baby moved in the last hour? What long term psychological damage will I unwittingly inflict on him or her that will require therapy later? What if I get cancer when they're in elementary school? What I forget to feed the baby? Am I eating well enough?

I swear, I have never been this much of a worrier. It's a whole new world of anxiety...perhaps Nature's way of preparing us to care and protect. It's so amazing how you can go through a whole life only having to be concerned with your own consequences, and then suddenly, you realize another, very tiny, soft, fragile human being is totally counting on you for everything. It feels enormous.

Of course, then I think of every yahoo that's ever raised a kid that turned out ok, and it's comforting. We're just going to have to do our best, and that's all we can do.

On the physical front (and I mean front!), the bump continues to expand. Some days I wonder how on earth I'm going to get 4 months bigger. Sleeping is already sort of a funny joke as I flop from side to side through the night. Some days I feel like this balloon on the front of me really can't hold any more air, but I guess that's the marvel of creating life.

Here's to a big, new year!

The Neverending Story

I forgot to mention that last week I skipped my Unisom one night and learned (vividly) the next day that I am still sick! I puked from the dining room, through the kitchen, and into the bathroom - cute! The funny thing is, Unisom doesn't seem to do much to help me sleep, which is the way the drug is marketed.

Lucky Girl

I just want to acknowledge how lucky I feel to have such a supportive husband. He listens to my constant commentary on the strange goings-on in my body, he goes out of his way to make sure I'm comfortable, from buying an air purifier to getting me snacks and water, and he is very excited about the baby. He puts up with my puzzling hormonal shifts and treats me with kindness and gentleness. He researches which diapers are most environmentally friendly, he puts his hand on my belly every time I say the baby's moving, even though he can't feel anything yet. He has been supportive about me working part time so I could have some freedom before we're barraged with babydom even though the economy is in the toilet. Thanks honey.

Biggie Bigs

Yeah, I know, I still have a long way to go, but may I just say, "Wow, I'm big!" The bare side view is pretty wild. I've just never been shaped like this before. Wacky. I am only halfway there, and somehow, I'm going to get way, way bigger.

Today I found a hot shirt at a consignment shop. I looked in the mirror and thought, "Now that looks good." Sort of a rare thought these days.

My girlfriend Jenine came to visit over the weekend and surprised me with a whole of bunch of cute new maternity clothes, including this adorable velvet dress and jacket from Target that I'd been eyeing just the day before. She must have picked up my brainwaves. I felt so pampered.

There's movement every day - usually in the evening, but sometimes during the day. Little scrambles and pokes. So far, a spicy lunch and a Christmas concert have inspired the most movement.

I did a short live set at a party last week - it was so good for me (as usual). Then I hung out and listened to the other bands. I suddenly started worrying that the sound was too loud for the baby. (Should I leave? Should I move away from the noise? Could it hurt baby's ears? Isn't it good for baby to begin to love rock?) It was just a moment of realizing the complexity of trying to think for two. Whew.

Now, off to steam some spinach and broil some fish...

The Universe is Expanding

My second trimester is humming along...I've been feeling relatively good. Thanks to the Unisom, I sleep through the night and don't feel particularly nauseated. (I swear, this blog is not sponsored by Unisom.)
I've been feeling the baby moving around. Usually just random flutters, but every so often a little poke, which I guess is a kick from a tiny foot. While I am excited to have a powdery, soft little bunny to take care of, I definitely feel like a completely separate being from the baby. Detached, I guess. I'm not sure why I feel guilty admitting this, it's simply a fact. I don't talk to the baby, for instance. At this point, it seems like a strange thing to do. He or she is still a pretty theoretical being to me.
I remember when one of my sisters had her first kid, I noticed that even when her belly was huge, she seemed totally separated from it somehow. When the baby was born, she took perfect care of him, but he seemed to me like sort of a foreign object to her. Then, when he was a couple of months old, she was holding him and she looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "I have never loved anyone or anything so much in my life."
I guess I don't need to be too concerned about how much I've bonded with the baby(fetus) at this juncture. It'll happen in its own sweet time.
While I am admitting guilty things, I will admit that I feel bad that the images from the 3-D ultrasound look really strange to me. I don't know quite what I'm looking at, but if I am seeing things correctly, the baby looks sort of like a wet, hairless, strangely shaped cat. That's awful. I'm going to be a MOTHER. Can I say things like that? God help me, I don't know. Maybe I'm a horrible person. Maybe I'll be a horrible mother! Christmas, what is it about motherhood that turns people inside out? If my child does in fact look like a wet cat, I am quite certain that I will love him or her entirely, enormously, without question.

The annoying symptom I've been having the last couple of weeks is a stretchy, hurty pressure in my belly. Like there's a huge ball of dough in my tummy that's trying to rise. Erg. It's not extremely painful, just really uncomfortable, and there's an emotional element to it too, like the aftermath of being kicked in the gut or getting some really bad news. Like you want to hold your belly and say "Ugh." I started becoming convinced that this meant that something was wrong, so I called the doctor's office and was assured that this is completely normal.

I haven't been dyeing my hair lately, so as a treat, I bought some Clairol Shine Happy - it's supposed to make your hair all glossy and silky. But just before I applied it, I wondered if it was ok for me to use. I called Clairol and a dude named Cody told me that all Clairol products are tested extensively on animals and there's no evidence of any Clairol product causing any problems with pregnant women or babies. I guess that's good, but I got really bummed out thinking about all the animals that were sacrificed for me to potentially have shiny hair, and I decided my hair is fine as is. Frick it. Forget my dang hair, forget any semblance of being in shape, forget all the cute clothes and shoes that I can't wear right now. I shall focus on funky jewelry.

James and I are trying to figure out someplace to go for a "babymoon." I'm not sure I really want to use this term, as I find it sort of annoying. I'm dying to go away while we can, although I am afraid of feeling totally gnarly, whiny, lumplike whilst trying to enjoy the South of France, or Crete, or sunny Arizona. Plus I'll have to pack an extra suitcase of food, as I need to eat about once an hour these days.