The 8th Nerve

The cleavage, this new phenomenon that behaves like my own personal baseball mitt,  catches the crumbs and the ice cream sprinkles, and on one horrifying day, a spider.   (Yes, go ahead and laugh at the image of me in the woods, flapping my bra wildly and screaming!)  The belly catches everything else and is also capable of supporting my arms and other objects, a personal shelf at my disposal.

Ah yes, 33 weeks… when you are nearing 30 pounds more than you have ever weighed in your life and the baby only weighs 4 of it!

I’ve gotten batches of maternity clothes from people.  Invariably, as I sort through all the nice reasonable-looking maternity items, there is one monstrosity.  There is THE garment of horror that makes you cringe because you instinctively know that this was used at the very end, past the point of all caring and decency.  When you are big and there’s no possible way you can get any bigger, but then you do.  You are huge and you have no choice but to put on this tent and to back it up with the enormous gaping stretchy denim bottoms that sumo wrestlers must wear outside the ring.

I think today was the beginning of the breakdown toward the ultimate lady sumo wrestler outfit.  Today I put on a big ol formless shapeless t shirt that billows around me.  Just so I don’t have to tug at the bottom of a shirt all day.

The baby will be here next month.   Three weeks ago I started calling around about birthing classes and found out they are all full!  The class meets weekly for six weeks, 2 hour sessions each.  I don’t think I need 12 hours of information about a natural process that has been occurring for hundreds of thousands of years, but I do want to feel like I know SOMETHING.  I think going in comfortably and confidently vs being full of fear and tension makes for two very different experiences from beginning to end.   The mind has a lot of power in this matter.   I’ve got some good books to read and maybe we’ll get some ‘how to’ videos off the internet or something!

Summer has been really good so far.  I’ve gotten in trips to Lake George, New Hampshire and Connecticutt.  I’ve already gone swimming in Lake Champlain one sunny hot evening.  I’ve had great meals and conversations with friends and family.  I begin to marvel at how Steve and I are suddenly in this whole new chapter in our lives and how it has already impacted my perspective, values, reactions and experiences.   I don’t think I have ever been so comfortable, in all the ways that a person can be comfortable.  This new place in our lives is going to be the best one yet.

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Jul 3rd 2009Everyday life & Uncategorized & pregnancy

This is a picture from week 12 when I thought I was actually “showing.”  I even emailed it to my Mom.  Here’s a picture of me showing!   Ha…ha…ha…

Now for laughs I’m going to insert week 31 pic of me wearing that same top.

Whoa!  Or perhaps this one is more accurate…

No, I’m kidding.. I think this one captures it best.

I’m feeling very good and relaxed these days.  I thought the third trimester would have all kinds of craziness in store for me, but it seems that the transition was just a blip on the radar and then my body adjusted.   Who knows what may happen in July and August, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I continue to feel so comfortable.

Word of advice- tell only your closest friends and family the gender of your baby and tell everyone else that you don’t know yet.  I’ve had two baby showers at work and now I am swimming in baby girl pink frou frou outfits.  If I had kept my mouth shut, I would have gotten gender neutral yellow and green!  Anything but pink!   Not to say that I don’t appreciate the thoughtfulness and kindness of people putting together a shower for me.  I definitely do.   I’m just puzzled why there has to be so much pink in general.  Baby boy outfits are just as bad.. all the blue and images of cars and trucks and sports paraphernalia.   Gender stereotyping and conformity at its source!

When I stand out on the deck at night, the fireflies blink and glow all around like a field of stars.   The crickets and peepers are a peaceful racket all the way down to the river.   The days have been so nice and cool, but I’m sure the hot weather isn’t far behind.    That will be when I set up a lawn chair next to the AC unit in the bedroom.

I can’t wait to meet the pooch!

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Jun 18th 2009Pictures & Uncategorized & pregnancy

I think there is something about the number 30.   The decision to get pregnant didn’t remotely go under serious consideration until I turned 30.  Now that I’ve hit 30 weeks, it is becoming more and more of a reality that sooner, rather than later, this baby will actually COME OUT.

The baby hiccups a lot, I read that is a good thing, means her diaphragm is working.   All kinds of movements now.  Gliding, sliding movements, kicks, rotations, shifts, sudden jerks like a startle reflex.  Apparently at this point she can also be aware and react to certain environmental stimuli, open and close her eyes, and track light sources.

For some reason, I don’t get back pain when I sit for long periods anymore.  Sweet.  I’m grateful to be pain free and not sleep deprived.  I know it could be worse!

Most of my maternity tops are not long enough!  I feel like the underside of my belly is hanging out and catching all the drafts.  Why don’t they make them longer?

I wouldn’t say my belly button has popped.  It’s more like it has ‘pooched.’  I call her Helga.  I’m not sure about pooched belly button etiquette.  Is there one?  Should I use a bandaid or something to try to flatten it so as to not violate others’ sense of decency or do I just let it pooch?

I wish my doctor was more like my orthodontist when I go in for visits.    When I saw my orthodontist, he would be so enthusiastic and congratulatory that I would leave feeling like I was a very special individual who got an A+, not only in responsible teeth and braces care, but in general awesomeness as well.

My doctor is pretty young and since she is not married, I am making the assumption she hasn’t been pregnant yet.  She doesn’t know yet that when pregnant ladies come in, they want to get A pluses in pregnancy.  Think of the pregnant lady as a college paper.  As you go over each paragraph, give her tons of comments in the margins.  Warm, congratulatory, excited, enthusiastic comments.  Pretty much imply that something of this nature, and how she is pulling it off,  is so fantastic and special that no one has ever really done it before, despite evidence to the contrary.  A plus plus!!  Baby gets an A+ too!

A plus or not, this baby isn’t really going to actually come out, is it?

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Jun 10th 2009Uncategorized & pregnancy

Filming is set to begin soon for the latest movie, Tin Can.   These days when I look in the garage, I’m just in awe of how Steve and Logan, with help from friends, built this.   Feeling ill equipped to build anything and overwhelmed by the sheer size of the project, I have focused on being more of the emotional supporter and taking care of the house while Steve works on the ship.   While standing on the sidelines, I also harbored worries about the financial costs of time, energy and resources.  The countless hours Steve has put into the movie script and building the set is unbelievable.

The other night though I came in and watched Steve work on the UV shower and discovered that if he set me to a task, I could easily help out in some way.  Watching him at work, I realized how much this project has utilized his creative energy and many other talents to build something like this.

Seeing Steve take apart a computer monitor stand and become so excited about the possibilities within the spring loaded metal contraption that emerged, I realized how much he is in his element and how much I love seeing him in his element.  He is so much more fulfilled than he was just working his day job.   Unlike most of us, he has found a way to not sacrifice his creativity and passion to work.   This is worth more than a thousand translation jobs.

The spaceship is the other baby in the works right now and we are feeling the pressure that comes from working non-stop to get this done in time, to coordinate the filming schedule, to get the equipment ready, to organize the logistics of people, locations and props.  I can only hope fervently for everyone involved to understand what this is really about- teamwork, communication, community, creativity, magic-  and to be on the same wavelength.  I feel so protective of it and hope that others, besides the team that has been working on it from the beginning,  see how incredibly great it is going to be.

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Jun 1st 2009Everyday life & Family & Friends & Uncategorized

In his book, Dreams from my Father, Barack Obama writes about identity and finding his way as a young man who was half white and half black.   I could never go as far as to say that I could remotely know what it is like to be biracial in America, but I do feel like there are some parallels to the experience of being not hearing, not Deaf.  The experience of being in between, where one is not completely at home in either identity or culture.

Obama’s experience is grounded in appearance, and the assumptions, attitudes and expectations that are created because of how he looks.  In that sense, my experience is more invisible.  It is created in social spheres, and the invisible ways that hearing loss creates personal anxiety, isolation and disconnect which may typically get confused with my personality, if it is noticed at all.  Both experiences, however, even with many different outer layers of experience, ultimately result in a grappling with self-expression and anger at being confined, unable to freely express or be one’s self.

Obama writes about getting a sense, just for a moment, of what it is like to be free of confinement while in a marketplace in Africa:

...all of this while a steady procession of black faces passed before your eyes, the round faces of babies and the chipped, worn faces of the old; beautiful faces that made me understand the transformation that Asante and other black Americans claimed to have undergone after their first visit to Africa.  For a span of weeks or months, you could experience the freedom that comes from not feeling watched, the freedom of believing that your hair grows as it’s supposed to grow.. You could see a man talking to himself as just plain crazy, or read about the criminal on the front page of the daily paper and ponder the corruption of the human heart, without having to think about whether the criminal or lunatic said something about your own fate.  Here the world was black, and so you were just you; you could discover all those things that were unique to your life without living a lie or committing betrayal.

How tempting, I thought, to fly away with this moment intact.  But of course that wasn’t possible…  The moment slipped away. [pp 311]

I identified with his yearning to have and to keep that moment.  In my situation, however, how would I find such a moment?  I would have to study American Sign Language for several years to the point where I could freely use and comprehend without a second thought, then find a group of people who use sign language, then perhaps I will have that amazing moment where my energy is freed up for spontaneous self-expression and full involvement in all aspects of socializing.

I try to imagine a moment no longer invested in exerting the extra effort and energy to follow conversation threads, fill in gaps, and counter the anxiety often at the base of it all- the self-critical inner dialogue that tells me I must hear everything if I try as hard as I can, avoid awkward embarrassing moments as much as I can and I must find ways to join in based on the snippets of conversation that I may nor may not have obtained.  When I don’t succeed the way I want to, all I can think is how boringquietuncomfortable and left out I was, once again stuck in an experience that was not me, but was terribly me all the same.

I know much of this is self-driven and based on a lifetime of painful experiences that self-perpetuate and automatically set me on a certain track of ingrained thoughts and feelings each time I encounter a new social situation.  The more comfortable and open and forgiving I become with my hearing loss, the easier these situations will be.

In that moment meant for me though, I imagine I would be fundamentally relaxed, at a level taken for granted by the majority hearing population.  I would be confident that I would understand everything everyone says at any point in time regardless of background noise or accents or facial hair or lighting or lips that barely move when one speaks.   I would miss nothing.  I would entertain, I would freely join in and reach out to others.  My receptivity would induce others to reach out to me.  Comfort level and confidence would be automatic, and I would be free.

But it would just be a moment.

Obama, Barack.  Dreams from My Father: A Story of Race and Inheritance. Three Rivers Press; New York.  1995.

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May 28th 2009Hearing loss

We had a super busy and social Memorial Day weekend, and BBQ season is officially underway.  Today, thanks to no less than three reminders that I sent to Steve throughout the day (haha Steve I love you), Lucky got a big ol summer haircut at a nearby kennel.  I thought he would look funny and awkward, but instead he looks like an adorable fluffy puppy.

The third trimester starts tomorrow.   Already I can tell how things are going to be less cute around here (besides Lucky).  I’m realizing now why all the models of maternity wear are always in the second trimester in those pictures.  That’s because in the second trimester, life is carefree and easy,  rainbows and frolicking lambs.  When the third tri rolls around, you are enormous and puffy, bumbling along like Pillsbury Doughgirl while clutching to some aching part of your body.   No stylish maternity wear can save you now!

I had the most ridiculous foot cramp the other day.  One toe seized and went in one direction and then the big toe seized and bent at a grotesque angle in the other direction.  Then one toe would painfully return to normal, then another one would cramp up.   I couldn’t move my foot at all and had to wait it out while it warped like something out of a horror movie.

Now this is something I’ve never had an issue with before I got pregnant.  Recently however, sometimes,  it is a bit difficult to poop.  And just think, if I’m wishing for an epidural in the middle of a poop, what on earth is GIVING BIRTH going to be like?!  Seriously!! Not so cute.  I warned you.

Last but not least, I’ve got a girdle of some sort.  A maternity belt that seems to really help with the back pain that develops sometimes, oddly enough, only when I’m sitting.  Also,  I recommend grunting like Monica Seles in order to get the momentum to stand from a sitting position.  How sexy do I feel right now?

I’m not complaining though, honest.  For the most part, things have been stress and pain free.  I get a good night’s sleep every night.  I haven’t been sick.  All food tastes good.  I’m still mobile.  Bring it on, third trimester.

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May 26th 2009pregnancy

The nursery is mostly done. The rest of the house is a mess, but the nursery is ready!

I’m at the point where I’m starting to think “Ok, I’m plenty big enough and moving around is getting somewhat awkward and ungainly. We’re done here. WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I still have three more months!”

On Sunday I woke up and came downstairs and to my absolute astonishment, Steve had flowers and a card for me, and was busy making breakfast sandwiches and cinnamon rolls.  It was Mother’s Day!  I guess technically I am a mother..

Sometimes I feel a growing contentment, flexibility and appreciation that I didn’t have before. My focus is changing and either the things that bugged me before are less buggy or I take more responsibility for how I’m feeling and let it go more often. I feel so appreciative of what I have that allows me to so wholly welcome a new being into the world. I feel so good about all that will be here for her while she grows up.

Granted, along with that knowledge come the periodic fear that some tragedy will occur and one or more of those things will be gone before she even gets here. I have to keep trusting that everything will be fine.

How is it possible that my body is creating a new being that lives and grows and moves underneath my skin. I am directly experiencing it but still struggle to fathom the amazing reality of it.

Ugh, the guilt and the fretting. I ate some chocolate. I microwaved vegetables in their microwave container with the plastic cover. I used a household cleaner. I did some heavy lifting. I woke up lying on my back and not my side. What is the right amount of exercise. I keep forgetting to do the darn Kegels. Was that cheese pasteurized?!

Realistically, I know what they say in the books are overkill. If I try to follow it all, I will go nuts. When the previous generation was pregnant, they were smoking and drinking and inhaling deli meat and look, we’re all fine. Mostly. And don’t forget about the pregnant neanderthals, with their unbalanced diets, extremely harsh environmental conditions and no babycenter.org or prenatal visits, and somehow the species propagated.

I’m reaching a whole new depth in my work, which doesn’t really have anything to do with being pregnant. It is just really cool and makes me fret somewhat about disrupting it in order to go on maternity leave.

I’m having a harder time finding any good images of the baby at this point in development. The results are inundated with other women’s belly profiles. Latest pics from week 25:

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May 13th 2009pregnancy

I’m sorry to say,  if you have a pierced belly button, you’re going to regret it if you get pregnant because a red scar starts stretching out above your belly button.   (No stretch marks yet though, keep my fingers crossed.)  It was something I did spontaneously in Wales with a friend.  She pierced her eyebrow and the giant needle sticking out of her face is one image I get to have the rest of my life.

A while back, before I knew whether I was having a girl or a boy but kinda thought it would be a boy, I went to a get together and a woman came in with the cutest little two year old girl.  I watched her play and had a strong feeling of wow…maybe what I really want is a girl.

I went to pick up a changing table from craigslist and it turned out to be the woman from the get together.  She recognized me before I could place how and where I knew her.  The two year old helped by carrying the changing pad to the truck.   I told Steve about it and said maybe it was a sign.

“Of what?” he asked.

“Uh… that we’ll have a cute girl?…and umm..that we were meant to have a changing table!”

“Yeah,” he said “the changing table of destiny.”

I’ve discovered Tums!  Yum!  I was starting to get this uncomfortable, tight feeling between the base of my throat and my stomach.  It was just uncomfortable and kind of interfered with sleeping.  I wasn’t sure what it was but eventually decided it might be heartburn even though the sensation didn’t feel like a burning one.  So I popped a Tums last night and slept great.  Like you care!

Wow…25 weeks.  Just a little over three months left.   Three months!   There has been all this waiting and not knowing that it is still hard to imagine that for the rest of my life I will know.  I will know what color hair and eyes she has and what her personality is like.  I will barely even be able to remember or imagine what life was like without her.   And hopefully, hopefully, we will be connected for as long as we both draw breath.

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May 6th 2009pregnancy

I had no idea that babies kick and squirm so much during pregnancy. I guess in observing any pregnant woman from the outside, her belly always looks like a static basketball. I thought kicking and punching was pretty sporadic, boy was I wrong. There is so much more fluidity and movement than I expected. I’m surprised that a little arm doesn’t bust out and start waving wildly. Sometimes it is especially incessant as if she is saying “Change your position so I can get comfortable!” “Bring me apple slices with peanut butter!”

The other night the kicking kept me up from about 3 am to 5am. So I lay there getting pummeled and randomly thinking about how nice a cold refreshing beverage of coke would be. And I thought the disrupted sleep wouldn’t happen until after birth!

Names continue to elude us. I want that perfect name, not too common but not so unusual that people don’t know how to pronounce or spell it. A name that intrigues because it is unique, but also a name that is down to earth. A name that isn’t too feminine, princessy, high maintenance or sorority girl. I bet I just sealed my fate by saying that. Regardless of her name, twenty years from now she be calling Daddy from college to ask if he will pay for her boob job. And Mom will have a cerebral hemorrhage.

She’s nearly a foot long! Like a sub. I feel the weight of it more, especially when walking uphill. The freakish 83 degree weather the other day was torturous. I discovered that the car’s air conditioning no longer works. So I drove for an hour in hot blowing air and it took forever to cool down after that, much longer than usual, and drained all my energy with it too. Baby is 15 pound insulation and growing all the time.

Steve and I had another snacks while you sleep moment in the other day. We were watching 30 Rock and Tina Fey was lying at home on a couch in a slanket, slicing and eating cheese. She says in singsong voice, while cutting a slice, “Working on my night cheese!” We were dying. Apparently it is the twist on some song, which I wouldn’t know, but it was still the funniest one liner I’ve ever seen on tv. I guess you had to be there!

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Apr 29th 2009Everyday life & pregnancy

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Apr 21st 2009Uncategorized