I don't get asked that question all the time anymore, largely due to a constant stream of invective-filled PSAs directed at those who ask me, but I've been asked twice this week and find that it still rankles, but for a different reason. I don't want to tell anyone, really, how I'm feeling, for two reasons. First, you don't REALLY want to hear about how much my rib cage hurts, how much the hip pain slows me down, how tired I really am, and how much I wish the baby would quit exploring every crevice of my abdomen while trying to figure out what limb he can stuff into each of them.
Second, if I do share that with you, I don't really want your advice on how to make it go away. It's not that I don't appreciate your caring; it's that on the whole I'm not good at taking advice (my midwife put it as "you're strong-willed"--in a good way) and that, coupled with my pregnancy moodiness, makes for a sour reception. (Same thing that causes me to sprain an emotional socket when I'm told not to change the litterbox.)
So it's been fun to have this blog where I can retreat and complain to my heart's content and not feel like I'm going to be jumped on. At times I wish I'd kept it totally anonymous, but I've learned from experience that it's just impossible for me to pretend I have some other name. Perhaps a bit ironic, given how much I hated my first name as a kid.
Which brings me to names. I think we've come up with a name for the little one. Still not entirely positive, though, but we will go into the delivery room prepared.
Showing posts with label annoying. Show all posts
Showing posts with label annoying. Show all posts
Monday, September 21, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Week 26: Catching Up
Well, here we are at almost week 27 and I'm only now getting my week 26 post up. Couple of things of note that happened during this otherwise unremarkable week. First, I nearly got into a fight with a woman for a chair at a political rally; second, I had a bona fide baby scare that lasted exactly 20 seconds.
On Thursday, I went to see President Obama speak at a rally for the democratic gubernatorial candidate. By virtue of my journalistic-oriented employment, I'm not really able to talk openly about my political positions, whom I want to vote for, or anything like that and at times it really chafes me, because I'm an ardent gay-rights supporter and a bizarre mix of pro-life-but-anti-abortion-criminalization. I can say that here because I'm semi-anonymous. Whee! Anyhow. I was at this rally, and about the time that our current governor got up to speak, the room started spinning for me. I don't handle crowds well even when I'm not pregnant, so this wasn't completely unexpected, but what did throw me for a loop was the behavior of the woman whose seat I politely asked for, since she wasn't sitting in it.
There were very few seats in the venue, actually. Other people around me could see that I was in some distress, and some were actively trying to help me into the chair. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I'm six months pregnant, and I just need to sit down for a few minutes."
Her retort was scathing. "Well, I have cancer!" she said, indignantly. "Only for a minute!" She grabbed her purse and her shoes, since apparently I looked like I wanted to make off with them. She was wearing evening attire; I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. But the women behind me shot her withering looks, one in particular handing me an ice-filled glass to hold to my face. I felt flushed and hot, but according to my helpers, I was pale. As she continued to glare at me, I said, "I'm sorry to hear that. We're all in this together, right?"
She stomped off in a huff; I was amused later when Obama came to the podium and actually said, outright, "We're all in this together." Which is true. I'm a political moderate and really hate partisanism. Anyways, I enjoyed Obama's speech even if there was a lot of rhetoric in it that felt like it was catered to the "base." It was humbling for me to sit in the same room as a sitting president. The closest I came to him was about 15 feet, when he was out in the crowd after his remarks, but I just wasn't feeling aggressive enough in the crowd to try to meet him. And as I moved through that crowd, I found out why evening-gown lady was so intent on holding on to her chair even though she wasn't sitting on it: I saw her standing atop another chair, cheering and waving her flag as though to music.
The other thing that happened this week--and it happened last night, actually--was that I was sitting in my den catching up on Burn Notice episodes and working on a cross-stitch project for the nursery when it occured to me I hadn't felt the baby move in several hours. I freaked out, on the spot, trying to remember when he'd moved last, thinking I needed to start tracking these things. Then I took a deep breath, focused inward, put my hand on my belly, and asked aloud: "Everything ok in there?"
Bunky thwapped me so hard you would have thought he was reading a book and didn't appreciate my interrupting him.
This morning he's back to his usual squirmy self but I imagine he is starting to settle into sleep/wake patterns right on schedule. I just need to get used to when they are, and hope that a nice, uninterrupted jag of sleepytime becomes his norm and stays that way after he's born.
On Thursday, I went to see President Obama speak at a rally for the democratic gubernatorial candidate. By virtue of my journalistic-oriented employment, I'm not really able to talk openly about my political positions, whom I want to vote for, or anything like that and at times it really chafes me, because I'm an ardent gay-rights supporter and a bizarre mix of pro-life-but-anti-abortion-criminalization. I can say that here because I'm semi-anonymous. Whee! Anyhow. I was at this rally, and about the time that our current governor got up to speak, the room started spinning for me. I don't handle crowds well even when I'm not pregnant, so this wasn't completely unexpected, but what did throw me for a loop was the behavior of the woman whose seat I politely asked for, since she wasn't sitting in it.
There were very few seats in the venue, actually. Other people around me could see that I was in some distress, and some were actively trying to help me into the chair. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I'm six months pregnant, and I just need to sit down for a few minutes."
Her retort was scathing. "Well, I have cancer!" she said, indignantly. "Only for a minute!" She grabbed her purse and her shoes, since apparently I looked like I wanted to make off with them. She was wearing evening attire; I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. But the women behind me shot her withering looks, one in particular handing me an ice-filled glass to hold to my face. I felt flushed and hot, but according to my helpers, I was pale. As she continued to glare at me, I said, "I'm sorry to hear that. We're all in this together, right?"
She stomped off in a huff; I was amused later when Obama came to the podium and actually said, outright, "We're all in this together." Which is true. I'm a political moderate and really hate partisanism. Anyways, I enjoyed Obama's speech even if there was a lot of rhetoric in it that felt like it was catered to the "base." It was humbling for me to sit in the same room as a sitting president. The closest I came to him was about 15 feet, when he was out in the crowd after his remarks, but I just wasn't feeling aggressive enough in the crowd to try to meet him. And as I moved through that crowd, I found out why evening-gown lady was so intent on holding on to her chair even though she wasn't sitting on it: I saw her standing atop another chair, cheering and waving her flag as though to music.
The other thing that happened this week--and it happened last night, actually--was that I was sitting in my den catching up on Burn Notice episodes and working on a cross-stitch project for the nursery when it occured to me I hadn't felt the baby move in several hours. I freaked out, on the spot, trying to remember when he'd moved last, thinking I needed to start tracking these things. Then I took a deep breath, focused inward, put my hand on my belly, and asked aloud: "Everything ok in there?"
Bunky thwapped me so hard you would have thought he was reading a book and didn't appreciate my interrupting him.
This morning he's back to his usual squirmy self but I imagine he is starting to settle into sleep/wake patterns right on schedule. I just need to get used to when they are, and hope that a nice, uninterrupted jag of sleepytime becomes his norm and stays that way after he's born.
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