Pink vs. Blue

27 weeks, and I have been feeling GREAT. As I told James, I feel "Lucky, special, and kind of sexy." There are even moments when I forget I'm pregnant. Then I drop something and try to bend over and get it. Ho ho ho. James called me his porpoise yesterday, which under normal circumstances I might have taken offense to, but I do in fact somewhat resemble a porpoise these days, and nighttime is kind of like a show at Sea World, only the water is a down comforter. He pointed out that porpoises are smart and friendly and smooth. I said it's ok, as long as he doesn't call me a whale.

Boots is active - every couple of hours, there is a round of swirling and kicking. And in the last couple of days, there are hiccups. Dr. Groszmann says that hiccups are a sign of good neural development, so we find ourselves hoping for hiccups.

Emotionally, I alternate between feeling calm, happy, excited, and grounded and vaguely worried. I think I'm getting the nesting thing the last few days. I have been working on the baby's room and trying to figure out what we need besides a crib and diapers. The other day I was at CVS and some baby soap and lotion caught my eye and reminded me that we will need to wash the baby. It's this sort of revelation that makes me a little uneasy, not that the baby needs care, but that these things are just occurring to me. Like the other day, when I realized that when I'm at the hospital, I will have the baby, and from there on out the baby is in our charge. Holy cats.

So, about color... the baby's room is pink. And it will be pink. Even if it's a boy. I do not believe that if it IS a boy that our boy will struggle with his identity because he slept in a pink room as a very small child. I am just writing this down because I do feel a slight bit of guilt about this, and yet I think it's ridiculous. Why are boys and girls things so specifically different? I remember when my niece was small, my sister was driven crazy by pink clothing.

But the pink clothing doesn't drive me nearly as nuts as some of the boys stuff - tractors, trucks, deer, etc., like young boys are being subliminally trained to be public works employees, not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just, why not books, art, and musical notes? What about boyhood equals large equipment? Then again, I know for a fact that some of that is hard-wired. My friend Graham, who is 3 years old, was offered to choose a toy for himself from a whole wall of toys, and he immediately and with laser-like focus chose a fire engine from probably 35 options. Absolutely no question. And his parents are arty, funky, sensitive, modern individuals. So maybe I'm just fooling myself. Maybe I'll have a boy that wears nothing but blue and brown. Maybe I can just think of it as robin's egg and bark.

Anyone that knows me knows that I adore color - I want a piece of clothing in every shade...and then I organize it by color group, so that when I look into my cabinet, it's a beautiful rainbow. BUT, I fear the beautiful rainbow of toys that will fill our home. Primary colors are so often garish. Yech. That's something I shall certainly have to let go of, lest I turn into Mommie Dearest. ("Christopher, Christina, what did Mommy say? No more primary colors! Now organize your toys as I have taught you, and don't let me catch you with that hideous xylophone again!"

At any rate, the room's not pink like bubble gum, it's pink like the inside of a shell. Light, subtle pink with a just a breath of peach in it. Jamie and my brother Bill picked the color for me, back when it was my room.

Dear Boots,

I am writing to you today, January 20, 2009, because this is a very historic day. This is the day that Barack Hussein Obama becomes the President of the United States.

Another very historic day is coming soon, and that is the day that you will be born. Your father and I are very excited that you are joining our family. Daddy’s been talking to you each day by leaning over and addressing my big belly. We call you Boots right now because you kick around a lot in there – you flop and flip and squirm and squish around, and whenever you do, I can tell you’re up to something. I wish all the time that I could see you in there, but for now, we have to be patient and wait for your arrival. You need some more time in there anyway, so you can grow a little more and get ready for the world.

We don’t know if you’re a boy or girl yet, we decided to keep it a surprise. We know we’re going to love you no matter what. You already have a crib from our friends Brian and Marci Grossman, and a car seat from my cousin Debbie.

So, back to history…by the time you are my age, I am hoping that having a leader like Obama will seem like old hat to you, like something completely regular. For me, it is something new. Obama is the first African-American President of the United States. He is the 44th President. In the two hundred and thirty odd years since this country was established, we have never had an African-American President, so that’s a big deal.

And what’s an even bigger deal for me and your Dad is that Barack Obama seems like a great leader. He is enormously smart, strong, reasoned, logical, balanced, and good. He has values that we understand.

Things have been very dark in our country for several years. In the past 9 years, horrible things have been happening, like 9/11 and wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and our country seems to be falling apart. In 2000, George Bush became President, but it is not clear that he won the election. Many people felt that he stole the Presidency. Right now, people are losing jobs, losing their houses, not able to go see the doctor if they are sick. It’s very hard for a lot of Americans. And people have felt like they are not part of the country. People have been feeling powerless and full of despair.

Barack Obama has given people hope. More than ever, people believe that things can change for the better, partly because this unknown, inexperienced, junior senator from Illinois has gone from delivering a very good speech at the Democratic National Convention in 2004 to gathering grassroots support across the entire nation and getting elected President. People that had never voted before turned out, states that never elect Democrats “turned blue.” People who had never participated in politics at all donated $5, $50, $500. Your father drove to New Hampshire and went door to door to tell people about Obama. He called lists of people. We donated money and attended fundraisers.

And today it feels like the first day of what we hope are better times. People across the country are so excited that they have gone to Washington DC in historic numbers to see Obama sworn in. There are millions of people there right now, bundled up against the chilly weather, huddled together, to celebrate a new era.

And we are so glad that you will be born into a country with hope. You must always believe that you can make a difference in the world, and you will.

Love,
Mom

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.