Even uber-Moms must rest sometime. I took Sunday off from blogging and tried to finish up some of the projects around the house. The baby's refinished dresser is almost completed, but the nursery is no where near being done. I'm painting the nursery a bright yellow, which matches some of the early baby clothes that were given to me around Christmas time. It should be a cheerful room with a relaxing vibe. At least, that's what I'm going for.
On the job front, I have a second interview with a community development non-profit this week. I'm looking forward to working out some of the details of the job and seeing if I would work well with them. Well, that sounds a little too professional. In truth, I really want this to work out and I'm nervous about going back for a second interview even more pregnant than I was in the first interview. Interviewing pregnant is like trying to date pregnant.....sure, people do it, but it isn't the best situation for anyone involved. All the non-discrimination laws in the world can't prove to me that an employer doesn't look across the desk and see a pregnant woman looking for a job. Fortuanely, this non-profit seems to need me as much as I need substative work, so it might work out. Let's just hope that I can still fit into that non-maternity business suit...
Monday, February 28, 2005
Saturday, February 26, 2005
2/26
I try to earn my keep at my parents' house by cleaning every Saturday. It all starts off with the best intentions: I'll vacuum a little, reorganize, wipe down the counters. I'm very rigid in my lackidasical cleaning routine. By Saturday night, I'm laying on the couch with a heating pad on my back and walking to the bathroom and back with a definate limp. I have what I like to call retroactive pain. My back remembers what I did to it hours, sometimes even days beforehand and then charges me accordingly. Some women have a "monthly bill", but I have a nightly debt to my lower extremities. The fifteen pounds of weight that would stick out over my belt, if I still wore a belt, doesn't make it any easier.
Now, a rational woman would probably stop doing the activities that hurt her. Luckily, I've never been accused of being rational. I hate not being able to do things. I want to lift boxes, bench press my bed and pick up the table to vacuum underneath it the way the maid Rosy used to on the Jetson's. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes.
Now, a rational woman would probably stop doing the activities that hurt her. Luckily, I've never been accused of being rational. I hate not being able to do things. I want to lift boxes, bench press my bed and pick up the table to vacuum underneath it the way the maid Rosy used to on the Jetson's. Is that too much to ask? Apparently, yes.
Friday, February 25, 2005
2/25
IT'S A BOY!!!!
My Dad called me at work yesterday around 2:30pm and told me that my Mom couldn't go to the ultrasound with me, like we had planned, so he was going to fill in. This is coming from the man that gets a little freaked out when I don't close the bathroom door all the way before peeing. I started to talk him out of it: "You know, Dad, I'm not a minor. I don't need to sign a parental consent form to have an ultrasound done. I could drive myself." He cut in with his big, long Dad-sigh and said: "No, I'm going to drive. I would feel better if either your Mom or I were with you. I'm driving to pick you up now." There seemed like no point in arguing. Once my Dad makes up his mind, it's set in concrete. Arguing only makes him dig in more.
When we got to the medical center in downtown Houston, my Dad had to wait in the lobby while I changed into a gown and waited in the women's waiting room. Once I was up on the bed next to the machine, the technician very sweetly asked: "Mrs. G., would you like me to call your husband in for you?" I think I actually laughed at the poor woman. I was like, "If you see a husband out there, let me know, because he's not mine. You can ask my Dad to come in." Finally, with Dad, tech and myself in a thin robe, all in place, the ultrasound began. Within thirty seconds of locating the baby, she told us that it was a boy. She goes: "There are his legs and you see that thing between his legs.....it's a boy. We wondered what the chances were that maybe she was wrong, but she looked at us, completely deadpan, and said: "I'm not wrong. His penis is right there."
After that, the ultrasound went on for about an hour. She measured every part of that kid, including the hand that reached up to scratch the ear that is still inside me. Modern science is amazing. As far as we can tell, he has all the parts that we hoped he would have. Seems to have a great heart, spine, ribs, two legs, two arms and apparently a couple of ears, but I couldn't see them.
I'm scared, excited, nervous and content about having a son. This morning in the shower, while washing my belly, I sang him the country song, "Good Morning, Beautiful" and it felt right. If the kid makes it out of the shoot ok, it will be the first boy in our family in over three generations. Our private matriarchy is filled with girls and women. When my Dad found out that it was a boy, he looked to the heavens and exclaimed: "Now I can shop in the other part of the toy store." Seriously. That was the first thing he said after learning about his grandson. Even my Grandmother was like: "Oh, now I need to learn about baseball and football." Try to imagine my 72 year-old Grandmother rolling around in the grass trying to teach her great-grandson how to catch a pop fly. .....That's about as far as I got too.
In college, my friend Christini and I talked about having children. I said that I was scared to have a boy, scared to teach it how to be a good man, a man that respected himself enough to respect women. She just looked at me, shook her head and said: "No, B. We need more women like you giving birth to boys. It's the only way the world will ever change." That thought is extremely comforting to me right now. Thank you C.
My Dad called me at work yesterday around 2:30pm and told me that my Mom couldn't go to the ultrasound with me, like we had planned, so he was going to fill in. This is coming from the man that gets a little freaked out when I don't close the bathroom door all the way before peeing. I started to talk him out of it: "You know, Dad, I'm not a minor. I don't need to sign a parental consent form to have an ultrasound done. I could drive myself." He cut in with his big, long Dad-sigh and said: "No, I'm going to drive. I would feel better if either your Mom or I were with you. I'm driving to pick you up now." There seemed like no point in arguing. Once my Dad makes up his mind, it's set in concrete. Arguing only makes him dig in more.
When we got to the medical center in downtown Houston, my Dad had to wait in the lobby while I changed into a gown and waited in the women's waiting room. Once I was up on the bed next to the machine, the technician very sweetly asked: "Mrs. G., would you like me to call your husband in for you?" I think I actually laughed at the poor woman. I was like, "If you see a husband out there, let me know, because he's not mine. You can ask my Dad to come in." Finally, with Dad, tech and myself in a thin robe, all in place, the ultrasound began. Within thirty seconds of locating the baby, she told us that it was a boy. She goes: "There are his legs and you see that thing between his legs.....it's a boy. We wondered what the chances were that maybe she was wrong, but she looked at us, completely deadpan, and said: "I'm not wrong. His penis is right there."
After that, the ultrasound went on for about an hour. She measured every part of that kid, including the hand that reached up to scratch the ear that is still inside me. Modern science is amazing. As far as we can tell, he has all the parts that we hoped he would have. Seems to have a great heart, spine, ribs, two legs, two arms and apparently a couple of ears, but I couldn't see them.
I'm scared, excited, nervous and content about having a son. This morning in the shower, while washing my belly, I sang him the country song, "Good Morning, Beautiful" and it felt right. If the kid makes it out of the shoot ok, it will be the first boy in our family in over three generations. Our private matriarchy is filled with girls and women. When my Dad found out that it was a boy, he looked to the heavens and exclaimed: "Now I can shop in the other part of the toy store." Seriously. That was the first thing he said after learning about his grandson. Even my Grandmother was like: "Oh, now I need to learn about baseball and football." Try to imagine my 72 year-old Grandmother rolling around in the grass trying to teach her great-grandson how to catch a pop fly. .....That's about as far as I got too.
In college, my friend Christini and I talked about having children. I said that I was scared to have a boy, scared to teach it how to be a good man, a man that respected himself enough to respect women. She just looked at me, shook her head and said: "No, B. We need more women like you giving birth to boys. It's the only way the world will ever change." That thought is extremely comforting to me right now. Thank you C.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
2/24
I met my OB-GYN yesterday during my initial appointment with her. She seems incredibly nice in a, "I don't take any shit and we can sit around and talk about babies and vaginal discharge for hours, but that doesn't mean that I take any shit," kind of way. Our appointment together covered some of the finer points of labor and delivery with me. As it turns out, the birth of a child is considered a medical procedure for the woman, so family and FOB have no legal right to be in the delivery room with me. I can invite them in, but I can also invite them to leave. Fabulous. I was having these fears about the FOB demanding to be in the room with me and then my father and him getting into some kind of fistfight a la Hugh Grant and Tom Arnold in "Nine Months".
*Disclaimer- Part of sharing my pregnancy experiences includes some details of medical procedures. If you don't want to read about them, I suggest that you discontinue reading now and check back later* The Doc swindled me into having a Pap smear yesterday. I was supposed to have one during the first trimester, but with the move and all, I didn't. So, I'm laying there with my feet in stirrups imagining the baby trying to answer the knock at the front door of my cervix. Speculums are never fun in that region of the body and they are even less fun pregnant. The baby swims down to investigate the disturbance. Some shouting might occur between the baby and the object; something along the lines of, "Hey, hey.....I don't know you. Stop that. God you're cold. Get out of here!" I can only pray that I had my first and last pregnant pap smear.
On a lighter note, Doc said that baby's heartbeat was 156 beats per minute, right around hummingbird range. The baby is moving around a lot and I should feel some fluttering within the next two weeks. Keep your fingers crosssed for that one.
*Disclaimer- Part of sharing my pregnancy experiences includes some details of medical procedures. If you don't want to read about them, I suggest that you discontinue reading now and check back later* The Doc swindled me into having a Pap smear yesterday. I was supposed to have one during the first trimester, but with the move and all, I didn't. So, I'm laying there with my feet in stirrups imagining the baby trying to answer the knock at the front door of my cervix. Speculums are never fun in that region of the body and they are even less fun pregnant. The baby swims down to investigate the disturbance. Some shouting might occur between the baby and the object; something along the lines of, "Hey, hey.....I don't know you. Stop that. God you're cold. Get out of here!" I can only pray that I had my first and last pregnant pap smear.
On a lighter note, Doc said that baby's heartbeat was 156 beats per minute, right around hummingbird range. The baby is moving around a lot and I should feel some fluttering within the next two weeks. Keep your fingers crosssed for that one.
Wednesday, February 23, 2005
2/23
Whoa....you send out a couple of mass e-mails and suddenly you are hearing from everyone!!!! Jeez, I should have tried that approach sooner. Thank you to everyone that wrote me to express your support for the baby and for my blogging. It was very sweet. I was nervous about how people would respond to my foray into on-line writing.
OK, a couple people had questions as to the father-of-the-baby (Here on out labeled as FOB, which convienently rhymes with SOB. Ahhhh, I knew those pregnancy hormones would kick in eventually. Combined with a little bit of bitterness and I'm brutal). For the people that haven't met him, I'll describe him to you. He's name is Leigh, he is 33 years old, works as a server in a restaurant in NH, which is where I met him. When he first approached me he said something ridiculous like, "Do you want to go see a flick sometime?" I wasn't sure if he meant, in general, like, do I ever like to see movies, or if I wanted to see a movie with him. I also wasn't sure if I should date a person that used the word "flick" as part of their colloquial language. But, he had a honest face that won me over and we started dating. To the FOB's credit, he was always supportive of my queer identity and my ex-girlfriends. After all, he did attend M's wedding with me, which was not in short supply of exes.
To the detriment of the baby, the FOB has chosen to not legally acknowledge the baby as his own. Since we weren't married when I got pregnant, paternity can only be proven through legal acknowledgment or a genetic test. By forcing me to wait until the baby is actually born to do a DNA test, he gets out of paying neonatal child support. That is fun loophole, huh? Fortunately, my crash course in family law has forced me to think about the legal protections I enjoy because I had this child with a man. The gay community has none of these protections because in many states, queer families cannot adopt children or a same-sex person cannot adopt the biological child of their partner, let alone getting a court order for child support. As I rant about child support and custody in the coming months, know that I do so with this consciousness of my privilege.
OK, a couple people had questions as to the father-of-the-baby (Here on out labeled as FOB, which convienently rhymes with SOB. Ahhhh, I knew those pregnancy hormones would kick in eventually. Combined with a little bit of bitterness and I'm brutal). For the people that haven't met him, I'll describe him to you. He's name is Leigh, he is 33 years old, works as a server in a restaurant in NH, which is where I met him. When he first approached me he said something ridiculous like, "Do you want to go see a flick sometime?" I wasn't sure if he meant, in general, like, do I ever like to see movies, or if I wanted to see a movie with him. I also wasn't sure if I should date a person that used the word "flick" as part of their colloquial language. But, he had a honest face that won me over and we started dating. To the FOB's credit, he was always supportive of my queer identity and my ex-girlfriends. After all, he did attend M's wedding with me, which was not in short supply of exes.
To the detriment of the baby, the FOB has chosen to not legally acknowledge the baby as his own. Since we weren't married when I got pregnant, paternity can only be proven through legal acknowledgment or a genetic test. By forcing me to wait until the baby is actually born to do a DNA test, he gets out of paying neonatal child support. That is fun loophole, huh? Fortunately, my crash course in family law has forced me to think about the legal protections I enjoy because I had this child with a man. The gay community has none of these protections because in many states, queer families cannot adopt children or a same-sex person cannot adopt the biological child of their partner, let alone getting a court order for child support. As I rant about child support and custody in the coming months, know that I do so with this consciousness of my privilege.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
2/22
When my friend Mandzie first recommended that I blog, she threw out the suggestion, like: "B., you should get a blog and tell all of us what it is like to be pregnant." I laughed it off. I'm the first one of my friends from college to get pregnant and considering that most of friends will need some extra hardware to conceive (I'm told that it is called "Alternative Insemination" NOT "Artificial"), it looks like I might be the only one for a while. After I moved, it started to seem like a good idea to keep people updated as to the baby's progress and my own mental state.
Today has been rough. I've been tormenting myself by looking at baby pictures on babiesonline.com. The pictures of the babies born from Feb1-15th are especially cute. Why I like looking at newborns that have no relation to me at all, is beyond me. Looking at pictures or listening to other pregnant women is the only way I get excited about my own baby. That is the hardest part about being single and pregnant. I have no one to turn to in the middle of the night and say: "I wonder if the baby is going to look like Craig or my cousin Steve?" or, "Honey, I haven't felt it move yet, but I have a strong pain on my right side. Do you think that's normal?"
Tomorrow is my first OB-GYN appointment in Houston and Thursday, 2/24 is the "Big" ultrasound.
Today has been rough. I've been tormenting myself by looking at baby pictures on babiesonline.com. The pictures of the babies born from Feb1-15th are especially cute. Why I like looking at newborns that have no relation to me at all, is beyond me. Looking at pictures or listening to other pregnant women is the only way I get excited about my own baby. That is the hardest part about being single and pregnant. I have no one to turn to in the middle of the night and say: "I wonder if the baby is going to look like Craig or my cousin Steve?" or, "Honey, I haven't felt it move yet, but I have a strong pain on my right side. Do you think that's normal?"
Tomorrow is my first OB-GYN appointment in Houston and Thursday, 2/24 is the "Big" ultrasound.
Monday, February 21, 2005
2/21-3
This picture is entitled, "Cat Bliss" because I can't imagine anything being more content than Honey is in this picture.
2/21
Oh thank God that Valentine's Day is over! I'm not being particularly anti-love, but I am against a holiday that makes you feel bad if you don't have anyone to spend it with. I worked on refinishing the baby's dresser/changing table and painting the walls of the nursery. Not the ideal Valentine's Day by far, but at least I felt good about the progress I'm making in the baby's room. Even though I don't have anyone to love right now, the baby will know that I love it. The baby didn't even make me get sick to my stomach when the father called me at 11pm to tell me that he's depressed because he's not dating anyone. Yeah, that went over well with me. I cried myself to sleep, woke up the next morning and decided to stop communicating with him on any sort of personal level. It is just too painful.
So, I'm 19 weeks and some change. I still haven't felt the baby move yet, which is more dissapointing than I can really explain. It feels like I'm getting bigger and bigger for no reason. Intellectually, I know that there is a baby in there, but I would like to start feeling it on an emotional, spiritual level. After taking the advice of some women who have done this sort of thing before, I tried to do beginning yoga with my Mom at the YMCA over the weekend to see if I could get anything going in there. Unfortunately, I ended up laying on the mat in the fetal, resting position most of the time. Prenatal yoga seems the way to go. My Mom liked it, though, which is good. My Dad might even join us soon.
The big ultrasound is this Thursday, February 24th at 4pm. I should know the gender soon!
So, I'm 19 weeks and some change. I still haven't felt the baby move yet, which is more dissapointing than I can really explain. It feels like I'm getting bigger and bigger for no reason. Intellectually, I know that there is a baby in there, but I would like to start feeling it on an emotional, spiritual level. After taking the advice of some women who have done this sort of thing before, I tried to do beginning yoga with my Mom at the YMCA over the weekend to see if I could get anything going in there. Unfortunately, I ended up laying on the mat in the fetal, resting position most of the time. Prenatal yoga seems the way to go. My Mom liked it, though, which is good. My Dad might even join us soon.
The big ultrasound is this Thursday, February 24th at 4pm. I should know the gender soon!
Monday, February 14, 2005
2/14
Ok.....this is my first foray into blogging, so bear with me. I was inspired after reading some message board postings on the "July 2005 Expecting Club" website. A lot of women had posted their pregnancy pictures and I realized that if they could do it, so could I. In fact, it makes sense since I'm so far away from so many people that I care about and who care about this baby.
For those that need to be caught up, I'm 18-19 weeks pregnant. Only the very boldest of strangers are asking me how far along I am, which makes me think that I'm either not showing very much or our general society is very, very scared to ask women about this. In comparison to other "belly shots" that I've seen, my belly seems diminutive in comparison. This is my first child and my mid-wife up in New Hampshire told me that the ligaments that hold the uterus in are much tighter on a first pregnancy. So, that makes sense. I've been told that the strength of your stomach muscles also factors in a bit, but that seems like a wives' tale to me. At seven or eight months I'll probably look back on this entry and laugh: I was actually complaining about not being big enough!
I haven't felt any movement with the baby yet, which is surprising because when Leigh and I saw the baby at the first ultrasound, the baby never stopped moving. When I first saw the baby, it was standing on its head, kind of floating there. It quickly changed positions and then started gyrating in this funky way in response to my laughing. Leigh claims that it was dancing, but I don't believe him. That was at 9 weeks and I'm due for my next ultrasound in two weeks. This is the "big one" where they do all of the prenatal testing to see if the baby is happy down there in uterus-land. I also get to find out the sex of the child, which I'm excited to know. My Mom is going with me to my first OB-GYN appointment in Houston and then on the ultrasound. She never had an ultrasound with my sister or I so it should be a good experience for both of us (cross your fingers).
Oh, did I mention that I moved to South Houston? I moved from NH about three weeks ago and have settled in nicely. My cat Honey keeps looking at me with a betrayed, hurt look that only cats can give. He can't go outside, yet and he is very upset about this. At my old house he went outside constantly; hunting and playing with his friends. I actually had to delay my drive down here one day because Honey wouldn't come back inside. When I went to work today he hid is head under my bed, but left his little butt sticking out. Like he was telling me to kiss off. It could be my maternal feelings kicking in, but I actually get upset about leaving him alone all day. Anyone want to support me on "Bring your pet to work" day? Come on....it could be a movement.
Obviously, I've been spending much to much time with my cat, seeing as he is one of my only friends down here. I'm trying to meet people and be social, but the unrelenting fatigue makes socialization hard. Being pregnant has also made me a little more shy. It's probaly because I don't want to explain the pregnancy to anyone or have to explain myself.
For those that need to be caught up, I'm 18-19 weeks pregnant. Only the very boldest of strangers are asking me how far along I am, which makes me think that I'm either not showing very much or our general society is very, very scared to ask women about this. In comparison to other "belly shots" that I've seen, my belly seems diminutive in comparison. This is my first child and my mid-wife up in New Hampshire told me that the ligaments that hold the uterus in are much tighter on a first pregnancy. So, that makes sense. I've been told that the strength of your stomach muscles also factors in a bit, but that seems like a wives' tale to me. At seven or eight months I'll probably look back on this entry and laugh: I was actually complaining about not being big enough!
I haven't felt any movement with the baby yet, which is surprising because when Leigh and I saw the baby at the first ultrasound, the baby never stopped moving. When I first saw the baby, it was standing on its head, kind of floating there. It quickly changed positions and then started gyrating in this funky way in response to my laughing. Leigh claims that it was dancing, but I don't believe him. That was at 9 weeks and I'm due for my next ultrasound in two weeks. This is the "big one" where they do all of the prenatal testing to see if the baby is happy down there in uterus-land. I also get to find out the sex of the child, which I'm excited to know. My Mom is going with me to my first OB-GYN appointment in Houston and then on the ultrasound. She never had an ultrasound with my sister or I so it should be a good experience for both of us (cross your fingers).
Oh, did I mention that I moved to South Houston? I moved from NH about three weeks ago and have settled in nicely. My cat Honey keeps looking at me with a betrayed, hurt look that only cats can give. He can't go outside, yet and he is very upset about this. At my old house he went outside constantly; hunting and playing with his friends. I actually had to delay my drive down here one day because Honey wouldn't come back inside. When I went to work today he hid is head under my bed, but left his little butt sticking out. Like he was telling me to kiss off. It could be my maternal feelings kicking in, but I actually get upset about leaving him alone all day. Anyone want to support me on "Bring your pet to work" day? Come on....it could be a movement.
Obviously, I've been spending much to much time with my cat, seeing as he is one of my only friends down here. I'm trying to meet people and be social, but the unrelenting fatigue makes socialization hard. Being pregnant has also made me a little more shy. It's probaly because I don't want to explain the pregnancy to anyone or have to explain myself.
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