And so it begins…
Baby Diaries email #1- Week 12 – Telling everyone…
Well its been a while since I put out a group email: the last, probably years ago in fact, on my travels. Well, I am embarking on another adventure – the scariest one yet – and in an attempt to try to get my head around it (still having trouble) I thought I would perhaps start the baby diaries. Rather than travel tales, you may be regaled with stories about how I have to pee 20 times a day, or perhaps the one about how I slept for 10 hours and then woke up completely exhausted…obviously not as interesting as trekking through landslides in China, so if you feel the need to delete at this point please do so.
For those I havent told…Im pregnant…for those that know me at all, you will know that this was entirely an accident (should I say surprise so as to avoid mentally scarring my future child?) and a mind shift of massive proportions is currently going on in my hormone frazzled brain. There is an alien tenanting my body, sucking the very marrow out of my existence, every vitamin, every ounce of energy I have, and at 12 weeks up the duff, I am eagerly awaiting the bit where I look glowing and radiant like all the books say. Rather, I look knackered, puffy, and I havent been able to do up my jeans for the last two weeks. I miss them already.
I know there must be positives to this situation, and I am eagerly seeking them out, but most of them occur about 18 years after the birth, so the search continues. I am aware that some women do this to themselves on purpose and I just cant imagine why! I did find a wonderful invention called the belly-belt though, which has enabled me to return to wearing my favourite jeans…a small thing, but its amazing how the comforts of the things you love become important when life all of a sudden is about someone else…goodbye selfish Meg, goodbye lazy Meg, Ill miss you! I am feeling particularly in need of correspondence from friends right now so please feel free to drop me a line and let me know whats going on in your life to distract me from mine!
Journal…. Week Eight
The fun of spreading this news is wearing off. I am starting to really grasp the stone cold reality of what I am telling people. I am going to have a baby. It is going to live with us for at least 18 years, unless something goes horribly wrong with my parenting skills and my child moves out at 14 to become a prostitute of some kind. Oh my God, I dont have the skills for this!
What happens to my life? Im selfish. I know this. I like going and seeing movies and not cartoon ones. I like staying up late. I like seeing a good deal on webjet and taking off for the week. Is this going to end? Really? I dont like babies.
I dont like babies. I dont like them. Really. Thats me, over there, in the corner of the restaurant whispering about how I wish those inconsiderate fools would take their children home and stop ruining my dining experience. Thats me, leaning back in avoidance as the baby is being passed around for a cuddle at lunch with the girls. I have never, ever, not once said coochie coochie coo… or anything like it to a baby. I think they look funny, not cute, and they invariably cry when I hold them.
I feel a dread, a deep dark dread, like the clouds over Mordor in Lord of the Rings. I feel like my chest is filled with concrete. What was this child thinking choosing me as a mother?
I believe children choose their parents, which is causing a great deal of conflict in me at the moment, because half of me is thinking, this isnt right, this cant be happening. The other half of me is thinking it must be destiny; you have something to learn here. Damn you philosophical Meg! Go away, I want to mope.
If I had to work in the real world instead of being my own boss downstairs in my house, I think I may have killed myself by now. There ought to be some law that says pregnant women can sleep under their desk if they need to. Otherwise, how are all these other pregnant women coping with going to work everyday? I get to about 2 oclock and am literally falling asleep at my desk; the need to curl up is so overpowering I can barely stand up to walk upstairs.
I havent thrown up yet, which is good. Great in fact. But I feel permanently hung-over and the only relief is the joyous two minutes of non-nausea I get after skulling a glass of milk or orange juice. My doctor tells me I mustnt drink too much of it though or else I may end up with gestational diabetes. There goes the OJ intravenous plan! I am pretty sure I am supposed to be in the glowing second trimester now, but I can tell you…there is no glowing.
Have just realized I dont need to suck my stomach in anymore and pretend that I have a flat tummy. Bliss!
I had a breakdown today, over the phone to my sister. It is 16 weeks and I still dont feel anything other than uncomfortable. I dont feel clucky. I dont feel a warm bubbling spring of love welling up in my belly as described in a pregnancy book I am trying to read. I dont feel confident. I dont feel anything except maybe terrified that I wont love this child… and also, just really, really tired.
If I dont love it now, will I love it later? I am still not sure I even want this in my life and I feel terrible that I could be bringing a child into the world that I wont love enough to get it through life. This is a major emotional crisis and I am not dealing with it well. If one more person asks me if I am excited I will slap them in the face. What am I supposed to say to that? And whats with saying congratulations to everyone who gets pregnant?…maybe they know something I dont know, but at the moment the word congratulations also tends to make me want to slap people, and by the way – I miss wine.
Not one person, even those who know that this is a huge shock for me have said what I would like them to say…which is something along the lines of, “Holy shit Meg are you okay?” or, “Man, doesnt the universe dump some serious shit on you when you least expect it.” But all I have got so far is Congratulations or Are you excited? to which I am currently replying with a wry smile for lack of any other ideas, and the fact that society tends to frown upon slapping.
Anyway, so I broke down on the phone to my sister and fortunately she had her counselling head screwed on right and made the simple statement, “Well, lets just cross that bridge when we come to it.”
I think that is excellent advice and that is exactly what I shall do. So I have decided that the best I can do now, is look after myself and make sure I make good decisions for the stage I am at. Live each day well and wisely and take it as it comes. Being a believer that everything happens for a reason means that is really the best thing I can do. Right? I will also keep reading, Up the Duff by Kaz Cooke – classic read, very funny and nice to know not everyone is clucky when they have a baby.