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  Despite being a little outdated, the list entitled Stuff I Didn't Know still stands as a reminder of how weird all these pregnancy symptoms can be.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.

wifercize wednesday: army wife

Story time.

Over Thanksgiving weekend I visited my paternal grandparents and uncle's family in Halifax, along with my parents, brothers, and Andrew. For the sake of brevity, the weekend was amazing; Halifax, beautiful; turkey, delicious; weather, fabulous; family, well.

On the way home, The Posse (dad, mom, bro #1, bro #2, and hubby) flew Porter and I flew WestJet. Kisses and hugs were exchanged as they boarded a few minutes before me, all of us joking that we'd see each other in Toronto in just over three hours. Or so we thought. My flight was canceled due to a plane malfunction, all 300 of us were put up in a nearby Quality Inn, and were scheduled to fly out on the next available flight - which was 7:30 a.m. on Tuesday morning.

Over the course of Monday night, both Andrew and I suffered from the discomfort of Empty Bed Syndrome. Throughout our (year and five month) marriage, we have slept apart only a few nights and each was an explanatory, premeditated necessity. Never have we been apart by accident or, as the case was, unexpectedly. The Syndrome fed off the nasty surprise. By the time I finally drifted off to sleep (an hour and a half past when I should have, due to tossing and turning) only to wake at 1:00 a.m., 2:00 a.m., 3:00 a.m., 4:00 a.m., 5:00 a.m., etc. in search of a body that wasn't there.

A body that wasn't lying, warm, beside me dreaming. A body that wasn't a reach away. Or even a stretch away. Or even a roll away. A body that wasn't available for me to "plug into"; a habit I have of tucking my hand under a part - an arm, a side, a shoulder - of Andrew just to know he's there. A body that has inspired some of my happiest, most comfortable contemplations.

I don't understand how 27 years of sleeping solo were undone by a few months of sleeping with Andrew, or how I have been conditioned to miss something that I lived without for the majority of my life. I don't understand and I don't care to.

A few of my friends and I saw The Time Traveler's Wife since we had all read the book by Audrey Niffenegger. The movie wasn't brilliant, but then, that was the required response of those who have read the book. As lackluster as we found it, however, all four of us were sobbing happily by the time the credits closed. There is something so raw and bitter about a married couple separated for any reason, for any length of time.

I have a friend who is the wife of a pilot who has been deployed to the Persian Gulf for six months. Six months. MONTHS. I'm reeling trying to even comprehend it. Half a year of Empty Bed Syndrome. I'm following her blog and will post a link here if and when she gives me permission (oh! she did!) but, until then, here is an excerpt that caught my breath:

If anyone out there has ever played the game "Settlers of Catan," then you'll understand this next illustration. In the game you have commodities such as wheat, sheep, and ore. You trade them to build settlements and cities. There is a card in the game called a Monopoly card. When you play this card, you are able to take all of one type of resource away from every player in the game. Then, you usually sell it back to them at a higher price. This is how I felt. The military was playing their monopoly card. They were taking my spouse, my community, my sense of home and were trying to sell me a cheaper version of the real thing at a higher price.

I suppose this post is to reflect on all the beds made empty by business, travel, war, illness, and death. It's not to glorify or vilify the Canadian Armed Forces, nor to wax poetic about the widows and the orphan so try not to get political or theological in your comments. I just had one of those moments that Rob Bell describes so eloquently in Drops Like Stars when I could feel a fraction of someone else's pain, thousands of miles and many more worlds away, because I experienced it in miniature.

Send a little love her way, will you? It will help keep her warm at night.