(no subject)
Some time ago I vowed that I would try not to write exclusively about babies and motherhood.
Problem is, that’s all I think about.
(Well, that and the upcoming election, which is giving me nightmares. Hello? Undecided people? What the hell are you waiting for? Ack. I can’t possibly write about that without bringing on violent stomach cramps.)
It disturbs me how totally and completely pregnancy has taken over my life. I’m aware of it every minute, even when I’m sleeping. I’ve surfed enough pregnancy forums online to know that while this is not uncommon, it’s also not universal. There are plenty of moms-to-be who just get on with life as though pregnancy were just an added factor that distracts them from time to time.
For me, it distracts all the time. In the beginning, as I ranted about earlier, it was all about nasty first-trimester symptoms. Now that I’m over that, it’s on to the next phase, which includes constant peeing, strange pains in odd places at inappropriate times, shopping for big-belly clothes with irritatingly perky pregnant people who seem to like looking fat, uncomfortable sleep, weird vivid dreams, obsessively checking for baby movement, incessant eating and continuous general discomfort in the abdominal region.
In short, it’s not fun. I sort of hate it.
On the other hand, I’m still glad to be having the experience.
It’s a kind of wretched joy.
As for work, I’ve got plenty to do and no desire whatsoever to do any of it. Not that this is particularly unusual. But I’m concerned that once the peanut arrives, my aspiration to actually bring home bacon on a regular basis will diminish considerably. I already sit on that fence at the best of times to begin with. What will happen when I add maternal-I-should-be-home-with-baby guilt to my already ample I-should-be-doing-something-better-with-my-life guilt?
I’ll be a bitter resentful wracked-with-overwhelming-guilt behemoth. That’s what.
OK. On to lighter fare.
The other night I had a dream that I was sitting in a field, waiting for an outdoor band to start playing, when all of a sudden the field was filled with hundreds of strange-looking creatures. What the hell are those? I thought. They looked like a cross between a chicken and a rabbit. Bony bird legs, long red bunny ears that stood straight up in the air, little wings and white fur. They were all hopping around gleefully. Then, suddenly a large goose and medium-sized rabbit appeared. The goose introduced himself to me as the father of all these little creatures, and then said the rabbit was their mom, gesturing toward her with his wing.
I woke up delighted.
In related news, it turns out that the peanut can only have wavy hair. Not cute-ringlet curly and not ironing-board straight. At least, that’s what the genetics web sites assure me happens when you put a CC with a cc. And of course I trust what I read on the Internet! Don’t you?
Eye colour, on the other hand, is apparently a complicated toss-up, contrary to what I learned in Grade 12 Biology.
Who knew?