Acceptance

I finally accept this.
It's so real now with my giant stomach and the baby gifts rolling in that it seems harder to imagine a mishap than a smooth birth. While I was worried before I've seen it and heard about it over and over again; the natural process, the baby shower, the early labor, the stages of labor, the transition phase where you say you won't be able to do it, and ultimately baby being here with a few great pushes. There was never any reason to doubt and now time will take it's course and she'll be here with all of us.

9 weeks to go. Gosh.
Looking back I'm pretty happy I made this blog, even if I didn't use it all that much and I haven't able to make any money off of it, it really helped me relax to put all of my fears out into the world and out of my head. Should you ever get pregnant I hope you do the same.

Now in the third trimester I can give you a run-down of how every trimester went.

1rst: feel disgusting 24/7, all foods make you barf, worry you lose more weight than you gain because you are barfing and not eating but don't worry you will gain weight later. Everything smells like rotten garbage, everything makes you throw up and you wanna punch people in the face for dousing themselves in perfume and cologne or not wearing deodorant. Diet consisting of plain ass bread maybe some cheese slices and grapes.

I spent this trimester:

• worrying about miscarriage and genetic defects,
• watching crime documentaries and worrying about the safety of the child once it's born,
• vomiting,
• heaving, 
• having really sore boobs,
• being angry at the police for giving me a bullshit ticket when I dindu nuffin',
• getting food poisoning and going to the E.R.,
• moving from one apartment to the next, 
• oil painting,
• and laying around with bad migraines.

2nd trimester: feel amazing, mostly forget you are pregnant, feel proud that you haven't really gained a massive amount of weight, be proud of tiny baby bump, be relieved because all the genetic testing is over and all signs point to a real baby and not a potato. Pee your pants when you sneeze or laugh. Find out the gender and get super excited, watch "The Business of Being Born" and switch to midwives at the birthing center instead of OBs at the hospital. Diet consisting of hot sauce on everything (get lit Dixie!), a lot of eggs and cookies, grapes, ranch dressing and vegetables, and banana smoothies.

I spent this trimester:

•  Moving from apartment to Bruce's house
• doing yoga
• worrying about my anatomy class
• worrying that I will be a shitty worthless welfare mom
•  hanging out with friends
• playing frisbee
• gardening
• starting to sew
• enjoying getting kicked from the insides
• worrying about complications during labor and still birth.

3rd trimester: It's only one week in so I can't really say too much yet but so far, headaches are back, feel tired a lot, feel large and heavy. Have magically gained a shit ton of weight and feel sad cause I had just achieved a flat stomach before I got pregnant now I'm back in the fat-suit. Blood tests show my iron and vitamin D levels are shit so have to take a lot of supplements. Midwife says I have gained all the weight I am supposed to already and anymore would just make me a fat-fat so have to watch what I'm eating. Oh and become really emotional over anything, like crying because "puff the magic dragon" came on the radio.
Diet consisting of hot sauce on everything still (she doesn't even flinch and I don't get heartburn, [this is a bald baby]), many eggs, grapes, whatever I can get my hands on. Supposed to be protein snacks but quick and ready to eat proteins are not in easy supply.

So far I have been:

• skating through an easy but annoying bio class
• watching american dad
• feeling generally fatigued and a little unwell
• sewing many cloth diapers and a few tiny dresses
• receiving lots of nice gifts from friends and family
• watching my garden grow
• perpetually uncomfortable

So that's a nice quick run-down of how things have been. For a summary of a pregnancy blog, I have stayed pretty realistic. Despite my crunchy tendencies like choosing midwives over OBs and making cloth diapers, and intending to breast feed for several years, this blog is relatively devoid of that wishy-washy hippy mom stuff. Not once did I say anything was "magical" or mention "divine feminine energy" or refer to myself as a "fertile goddess."
I hate that stuff and I'm really glad this blog didn't turn out that way. Seems as time has gone by I have answered my own question asked by a previous entry. "Will I still be the same?"

The answer is yes, and no.

Just because I cried when "Puff the Magic Dragon" came on, doesn't mean I didn't laugh about it right after because I recognized that I was being a sappy pussy.

Yes, I'm sewing a lot of baby dresses and diapers, but they are black and grey with dragon silhouettes or made of Joshua's heavy metal band t-shirts, not pink frills.

Sure, I spent money on newborn clothes when I said I wouldn't, but I take special pride in picking out outfits fit for young ladies and not clothing for "baby tramps" with glitter hearts all over.

So yes I have changed, as was inevitable, but it's not as bad as I feared. All in all, I'd say I'm still my salty self.

Fear of Death : Fear of Living

My last entries have been culminations of my fear of living. Fear of being a shit mother with no real career or purpose, fear of having my daughter recognize me as a nobody, and fear of being chastised for my lack of contribution to society. Apart from all that, as the due date gets closer I now deal with the very real fear of death during childbirth.

In little over 2 months I will be faced with the very "psychedelic" experience of childbirth. There's no real reason to suspect that this should bring about my demise, yet there is also no guarantee that it won't. I suppose I could also reason that realistically I could die at any moment, for any reason, and there's small proof that childbirth should up the ante at all. As a matter of fact I nearly died the other day when a large branch snapped overhead and crashed a few feet away while I was taking out the trash, but this occurrence doesn't keep me curled up in fetal position in the corner of my room.

I once said I wasn't afraid of dying because it's easy to do and everyone does it, but when faced with the possibility (even at a chance of 1 out of 8,000 to 30,000) it's not so easy to believe. It's not fear exactly like you get afraid of bugs or being alone in the dark, but a deep sadness to think you could be prematurely separated from those you love. There was several times where I had wanted to die. Looking before me, I faced nothing but endless obligations with no joys in sight, but now there is a lot on the horizons and I would be an incredibly angry ghost to be taken out of the game at this time. So should I win any kind of raffle, let it be the one at Hogtown reptiles for the $50 store credit, not the death during childbirth lotto.

Anyhow, no mortal can cure my anxiety so there is no point in reassuring me unless you have personally called up God and Jesus in George W. Bush style and they straight up told you that Dixie and I would be 100% ok.

If I should die let me know in advance so I can stop doing my homework and go to the beach instead. I'd hate to spend the last few months of my life scrawling away about photosynthesis.

Alright it's done. With this extraction of my fears from my head to the internet, it's pushed away and locked into a deep dark corner  with all my other fears of failures and shortcomings and unexpected negativeness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Annie is helping me plan my pre-halloween baby shower. Please show up so it's not just a bunch of older family members sitting around and tittering about my giant belly. I'd really like to have fun.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So what else can I update the world on? Not much. Time unravels into the distance and the due date draws ever nearer. I am beginning to imagine that this is actually going to happen. Everything will probably actually be ok.

I feel sore a lot, tired a lot, and a little bit mopey. When I feel good I clean like crazy.