mama monday: Week 31

Going through old post drafts, I came across this one from Week 17.  PROOF THAT I MEANT TO BLOG THROUGHOUT SECOND TRIMESTER.  Despite being a little outdated, the list entitled Stuff I Didn't Know still stands as a reminder of how weird all these pregnancy symptoms can be.  

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Here we are at Week 17 already!

Baby Gaz is approximately the size of a pear, I look more like I'm carrying a watermelon, and feel like I'm carrying a wine barrel.  I have a few friends who are also due in November and, although their due dates are a few weeks later than ours, I feel like Anoine de Saint-Exupéry's elephant in a boa next to them.

Now that I'm comfortably settling into second trimester and able to put into words some of what pregnancy has been, I figured I'd treat you all to a segment I'd like to call Stuff I Didn't Know.

1. Feeling Excited
   In fact, for most of the first trimester, I didn't.  Other than the day we found out we were pregnant (a story I realize now might make for an interesting blog post - stay tuned), and a few weeks after that, when I would laugh uncontrollably to myself like a crazy person because of the wonderful ridiculousness of it all.  I was pregnant.  Me.  With a human inside me.  A baby that will look partially like me and partially like Andrew.  And we'll have to look after it.  Shouldn't we be screened or something?
   
   Other than the laughing fits I felt terribly underwhelmed when anyone squealed at me, inches from my face, "AREN'T YOU SOOOOOO EXCITED?!"  Other than wanting to point out that they had taken all the excitement and there was none left for me, nay, for anyone else for that matter, I was surprised by internal response: "No." and, secondly, by the one I actually said out loud: "Of course."  Because both answers were true, but the latter didn't seem true - yet.
   
   It's kind of like asking someone who is battling influenza, amnesia, PMS, sleep deprivation, loss of bladder control, and abdominal swelling whether or not they are excited about attending the Oscars over half a year from now?  Well, yes, they suppose they are excited now that you mention it but mostly they're mapping out the nearest garbage pails in case they're struck with the urge to vomit, the nearest soft surface in case they pass out, and the nearest bathroom or thick hedge because they'll have to pee as soon as you'll let them stop talking about the Oscars.  There isn't a lot of energy left to be excited with.
   
   
2. Mood Swings
   You may be familiar with my occasional day trips to Crazy Town but they spaced themselves out at least a month apart and were, more or less, understandable.  As understandable as Crazy can be.   Pregnancy leaves allllll those episodes in its dust.  Not only are pregnancy mood alterations unpredictable but they bypass premenstrual ones in both height and depth.
   
   Conveniently, I live with a man who is as patient as he is wise which means that he knows when to attempt to "fix" the situation and when to let things run their course.  And follows up any particularly hard day, headache, or cry by drawing me a bath and giving me a massage.  I know.  I win.
   
3. Feeling Tired
   I can nap like a champion, and frequently do, but pregnancy has given me an entirely new outlook on fatigue and sleep.  Many parent vetrans will see us and advise, "Sleep now while you can!  You have no idea how tired you'll be once the baby arrives."  I haven't entirely completed my research on the subject but I'd be willing to bet that sleep is not one of those quantifiable substances that you can stock up on and use later, like toilet paper.  Not only that, but no one informed me that the sleeplessness begins LONG BEFORE BABY SHOWS UP IN PERSON.
   
   Andrew has developed a love-hate relationship with the body pillow I now sleep with (love, only because it aids me in sleeping...so it's mostly hate).  The pillow, in combination with my bulbous shape, increasing weight, inability to sleep on my front, inability to sleep on my back, multiple trips to the washroom to pee, and inexplicable wakefulness between the hours of 2:00 and 4:00 a.m. make it quite difficult to get a good night's sleep at present.  Which is why I'd like to take those parent vetrans by the shoulders, shake vigorously, and inform them that THEY AREN'T HELPING.

mama monday: hibernation

Anyone else kicked in the crotchola by the Christmas holidays this year?  After/while surviving a two-week bout of laryngitis I hauled myself to seven holiday parties (down from nine; see: laryngitis), four family parties, a wedding in the States, and lead a three-day young adult conference whilst keeping house guests from England. 

I CAN DO ALL THE THINGS!

This type of lifestyle flies in the face of my end-of-summer mantra: dolce far niente.  Here it is, 2011, and I'm admitting that my last goal met its defeat in just under three months.  Instead of dolce far niente-ing I've been keeping a schedule that looks like this:

And feels something like this:



This four-minute TED talk from Arriana Huffington reminded me again to refocus: we need rest, not simply as a luxury but as a prescription, to accomplish our goals.  She quotes:

"The way to a more productive, more inspired, more joyful life is getting enough sleep.  And we women are going to lead the way in this new revolution, this new feminist issue.  We are literally going to sleep our way to the top."

Two friends of mine simplified my goal for me and I've been pulling their words around me like a woolen throw when I feel a draft of despondency in the baby making journey.

Melissa blogged:

"I now know the sweet enjoyment of the small things, the things we miss while going about life a hundred miles per minute.  I watch Noah as he takes in life around him, sucking it in through his wide eyes, trying to stay awake so he can soak in more.  He inspires me.  I don’t just go to the store now, I take a walk, I hear the leaves crinkle and the wind blow, I feel and taste the crisp air, I take pleasure in going to the store.  I don’t just sleep, I rest. I go to coffee with a friend, I really listen.  I enjoy and appreciate my husband on a whole new level, he is now a father. I don’t just eat I savour.  I buy my favourite dark chocolate, I deserve it.  I listen to Christmas music, even if it's too early.  I kiss my little boys cheeks and hands and feet till their red."

And Nicole emailed:

"Your kid is going to effect this world in a major way - BabyGaz can't be born at just any time, it's got to be the RIGHT time. Take heart, friend. You're doing great. You just keep on being immersed in love and let the magic happen. It'll all happen at the right time."

I'm looking forward to 2011 because, for the first time in long time, my schedule looks like this:

And, this year, I hope to keep it that way.

crazy town

Since I promised, here is the aforementioned tale of Crazy Town.

Simcoe Day dawned sunny and work-free, so Andrew and I decided to spend it giving the house a much needed cleaning. He started on the laundry and I began the vacuuming.

The longer I worked the more exhausted I became and although giving a 2-second thought towards what time on the month it was might have saved us what happened next, I did not. I just kept working. I was in lock down: vacuuming, mopping, washing dishes...

In fact, I brutishly washing dishes when Andrew, sitting on the couch, looked up from his laptop and asked, "Are you ready to go to Walmart?"

Me: "I WAS READY TO GO TO WALMART 45 MINUTES AGO."

For the next 5 minutes all Andrew did was stare at me, bless him. I continued scouring dishes in silence. Stare. Scour. Stare.

I couldn't articulate why my reaction was disproportionate to the question (although, logically, I knew it was), or why I was actually upset (although, emotionally, I could have just as easily cried instead of yelling), or why Walmart was the catalyst of such malice (although, reasonably, enough facts exist about the conglomerate that make me wary). I only knew I was miserable and anything could have set me off. Including Walmart.

Andrew's silent stare (which he later informed me was a calculation of What Just Went Wrong - an internal dialogue that sounded like: "Was it Walmart we were going to?...Was it somewhere else?...What was the last thing I said before that?...Is it the dishes?...") was the second best thing he could have done. I later informed him the best thing would have been to hug me, perhaps against my will, until I chilled out.

It's the elephant in the room, once a month, that neither spouse wants to acknowledge. One for fear of being exposed, mocked, and/or stereotyped. The other for fear of being drawn, quartered, and/or disemboweled. Premenstrual syndrome. And using the word "syndrome" makes it so much more palatable, doesn't it? Like, "I'm sorry. Your wife has fallen prey to an incurable syndrome."

The day following that fateful Simcoe Day, once I had some perspective, I apologized for my outburst. "I think I took a trip to Crazy Town," I admitted. More like won the race to become the Mayor of Crazy Town.