and it is a feeling I will never get used to.
Sitting at my desk responding to a never-ending stream of emails, and the little guy inside me is practicing tae kwon do moves. Right hand strikes and snap kicks to the uterus.
It's not painful, but it's just weird. And constant.
He's getting bigger and stronger.
I can feel the extra weight when I walk. Not quite a waddle. Yet.
Today I looked like I stuffed a cantaloupe under my dress.
Things annoyed me today:
Students unhappy with their C papers.
Girl, it was a C paper. Take responsibility for it.
Unending hammering outside. All last week, too.
And I like to work at work and relax at home, but when I can't concentrate at work because of incessant hammering...
So, I walked home earlier than usual.
And my feet are swollen. I have cankles.
When I bound upstairs or even just flex my toes, I can literally feel the fluid in my feet.
Getting up from a seated position is no longer the fluid motion it used to be.
It's an old-lady, creaky getting up. Gotta hold on to something, push off of something, steady myself while getting up.
I want freshly baked French bread dipped in olive oil. PF Chang's crispy honey shrimp. Cheese fries. Warm chocolate chip cookies with a tall, cold glass of milk. They are not "cravings." I don't believe in cravings. They are things I already like that I just happen to want.
I think over 50% of pregnancy is an old wives tale. "If you carry high, it's a girl, if you carry low, it's a boy." "If you crave salty foods, it's a boy, if you crave sweet foods, it's a girl." "If you have heartburn, that means your baby is going to have a lot of hair." Get outta here.
I'm already a skeptic, and for whatever reason, pregnancy is just making me want to side eye things (and people) more than usual.
Or cry.
This morning I cried before going to work because I was sad that having a baby would mean that my husband and I would have no more relaxing weekends like the one we just had.
Don't worry about that honey. It'll be okay.
What is our son going to look like? What is he going to be like? How much of who he is will be up to me (okay, us), and how much will be up to the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune?
What does it mean to create something that is part of you?
Is that just a slice of what God feels like?
There is a living thing inside me.
And it will never be normal.
Monday, September 25, 2017
Sunday, September 24, 2017
Just Adjust
I remember the first time I went to the doctor. At the time, I didn't look pregnant in the least bit and was in the waiting room with a few other women who obviously were. I remember thinking to myself that I couldn't picture myself looking that way. I couldn't imagine myself in any way other than the way I looked at that time. But here I am, at 22 weeks now, looking pretty pregnant:
I'm adjusting to my new reality, because I have no choice. I feel like that's what actually having a baby is going to be like. Right now, I don't know what it's going to mean to have another human being that my husband and I created living with us. I can't conceive of that reality. (As my friend would say, "Well, you've already conceived it." har, har.) But that reality will come, and then we'll just adjust to it.
I'm adjusting to my new reality, because I have no choice. I feel like that's what actually having a baby is going to be like. Right now, I don't know what it's going to mean to have another human being that my husband and I created living with us. I can't conceive of that reality. (As my friend would say, "Well, you've already conceived it." har, har.) But that reality will come, and then we'll just adjust to it.
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
Little Song for Little Boy
Little Jo
Little Josiah
You are our little boy
Little Jo
Little Josiah
You are gonna be born
You are gonna be born
Cuz you are our little boy.
Don't you know that Mommy loves you?
You know that Daddy loves you
You know that Mommy loves you
And you know that Daddy loves you
You are our little boy
And you are gonna be born
You are gonna be born
Cuz you are our little boy.
Little Josiah
You are our little boy
Little Jo
Little Josiah
You are gonna be born
You are gonna be born
Cuz you are our little boy.
Don't you know that Mommy loves you?
You know that Daddy loves you
You know that Mommy loves you
And you know that Daddy loves you
You are our little boy
And you are gonna be born
You are gonna be born
Cuz you are our little boy.
Saturday, September 16, 2017
21 Weeks or Mean Mommy
The magic pregnancy number is 40 weeks, so I'm more than halfway there.
My belly is popping and the little one's kicks are such that my husband can now feel them from the outside.
I did the most un-feminist thing ever today: Barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen, I made my husband a sandwich.
At a "Friday Faculty Hour." Mingling and making small talk, when she, the professor who asked "why I spoke Spanish," approached. How's my year going? Great. I started talking about teaching upper-level classes for the first time and how excited I was about teaching an Afro-Hispanic Identity topics class. "Oh, so are a lot of students in your class...like, is that, you know, part of their heritage?" Girl, whet? Are you asking about the ethnicity of the students in my class? Or worse yet, suggesting that they would only be in there if it (Hispanic-ness? Afro-ness?) were a part of their ethnicity? If you don't go sit YO self down somewhere...I kind of nervously laughed and was like, "Um, no, I have two Latino students who are heritage speakers, but for the majority of my students, it's not a part of their heritage at all." More awkward small talk ensued, wherein she asked me to describe my classes to her in Spanish so that she could practice her rusty Spanish. She talked about how she led a trip abroad to Mexico back in the day and brought her daughter along when she was a little girl and she picked up Spanish like a little sponge. Good for her. And then she was like, "She's 20 years old now, but have I ever shown you a picture of my daughter?" She whipped out her phone and there was a picture of a cute little biracial girl. I could see her waiting to see my reaction, like it was some kind of fabulous reveal. I did everything I could not to side eye her so hard. Like, do you want a trophy because you have a black child? (I already knew from offhanded comments from another professor that she had adopted a biracial child back in the day.) I can't explain why it was so annoying to me. Like, as if she were trying to say See, I get it, I'm on your side, I'm not racist, I understand, I want you to know that I'm a good, socially conscious person. Here's the proof. I have a biracial daughter. Be proud of me. Homegirl, why don't you stop worrying about proving your non-racistness to random black people and instead start learning how not to say problematic stuff to them?
Now, I will admit to taking some glee in my own phone picture reveal when someone asks about my husband. Well, the glee usually comes from seeing the surprise on white people's faces. But some black folks seem unfazed, as if it confirmed what they already suspected, and then I get my feelings hurt.
My new annoying question is "So, do you have a name picked out yet?" Like, 1. What makes you think if we did have a name that we'd want to tell you, particularly if I don't know you like that and 2. What makes you think I care to have your feedback on whether or not you like the name? See, these are the things going on in my mean little head. But P and I decided that we're just going to tell people if they ask, because we're pretty decided on the name, it's going to be our son's name whether they like it or not, and we don't really care whether someone scrunches up their nosy face if they happen to not like it, because...we don't really care. I think I should start a new blog after the baby comes called "Mean Mommy."
I'm really looking forward to my baby shower in my hometown next month. We still haven't finished with the registry...it's still super overwhelming to me, to be honest. There are so many products, so many choices, so many things you need...I want to be a mom, but I know in my heart of hearts that I have no idea what I'm in for and it's unsettling. Somehow the registry is like, representative of the unknown. Representative of there's no turning back. You can't just put a baby back. Graduate from parenthood like it's another degree. Not this time. Nevertheless, I'm looking forward to my baby shower because I'm excited about seeing friends and family and celebrating with everyone. My best friend reminded me that this is a pretty singular event. Your first child. You're going to want to look back on this and remember it.
Today, I sent cards to people that I've been meaning to send cards to for a while. If you want to express something to someone, you should do it, no matter how long it's been since you first intended to do so. There are so many people who have contributed to my life. I don't take it for granted.
A couple of weeks ago I had lunch with an internationally known black feminist, bell hooks. She spells her name in all lowercase letters. She was born and raised in Kentucky and has an institute at a college similar to and not far from the one where I teach now. I did refer to her work in my dissertation, but I can't say I'm a bell hooks expert or anything. I was just grateful to be able to spend time with her. Many times, when I tell people where I am now, they turn up their nose. Kentucky? Why? I mean, I get it. Kentucky is not this cosmopolitan place. But there are little treasures here, and getting to meet bell hooks was undoubtedly a Kentucky experience. When I walked into the restaurant where she and another colleague were waiting, I just teared up. At first, I chalked it up to pregnancy hormones, but after thinking about it for a while, I realized there's something about being pregnant, about the prospect of bringing a new life into the world, that makes you want to be among your own—surrounded by mothers, grandmothers, aunts, women who are like you and who have the wisdom of years to share. And in that moment, I felt like I was among my own.
My belly is popping and the little one's kicks are such that my husband can now feel them from the outside.
I did the most un-feminist thing ever today: Barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen, I made my husband a sandwich.
At a "Friday Faculty Hour." Mingling and making small talk, when she, the professor who asked "why I spoke Spanish," approached. How's my year going? Great. I started talking about teaching upper-level classes for the first time and how excited I was about teaching an Afro-Hispanic Identity topics class. "Oh, so are a lot of students in your class...like, is that, you know, part of their heritage?" Girl, whet? Are you asking about the ethnicity of the students in my class? Or worse yet, suggesting that they would only be in there if it (Hispanic-ness? Afro-ness?) were a part of their ethnicity? If you don't go sit YO self down somewhere...I kind of nervously laughed and was like, "Um, no, I have two Latino students who are heritage speakers, but for the majority of my students, it's not a part of their heritage at all." More awkward small talk ensued, wherein she asked me to describe my classes to her in Spanish so that she could practice her rusty Spanish. She talked about how she led a trip abroad to Mexico back in the day and brought her daughter along when she was a little girl and she picked up Spanish like a little sponge. Good for her. And then she was like, "She's 20 years old now, but have I ever shown you a picture of my daughter?" She whipped out her phone and there was a picture of a cute little biracial girl. I could see her waiting to see my reaction, like it was some kind of fabulous reveal. I did everything I could not to side eye her so hard. Like, do you want a trophy because you have a black child? (I already knew from offhanded comments from another professor that she had adopted a biracial child back in the day.) I can't explain why it was so annoying to me. Like, as if she were trying to say See, I get it, I'm on your side, I'm not racist, I understand, I want you to know that I'm a good, socially conscious person. Here's the proof. I have a biracial daughter. Be proud of me. Homegirl, why don't you stop worrying about proving your non-racistness to random black people and instead start learning how not to say problematic stuff to them?
Now, I will admit to taking some glee in my own phone picture reveal when someone asks about my husband. Well, the glee usually comes from seeing the surprise on white people's faces. But some black folks seem unfazed, as if it confirmed what they already suspected, and then I get my feelings hurt.
My new annoying question is "So, do you have a name picked out yet?" Like, 1. What makes you think if we did have a name that we'd want to tell you, particularly if I don't know you like that and 2. What makes you think I care to have your feedback on whether or not you like the name? See, these are the things going on in my mean little head. But P and I decided that we're just going to tell people if they ask, because we're pretty decided on the name, it's going to be our son's name whether they like it or not, and we don't really care whether someone scrunches up their nosy face if they happen to not like it, because...we don't really care. I think I should start a new blog after the baby comes called "Mean Mommy."
I'm really looking forward to my baby shower in my hometown next month. We still haven't finished with the registry...it's still super overwhelming to me, to be honest. There are so many products, so many choices, so many things you need...I want to be a mom, but I know in my heart of hearts that I have no idea what I'm in for and it's unsettling. Somehow the registry is like, representative of the unknown. Representative of there's no turning back. You can't just put a baby back. Graduate from parenthood like it's another degree. Not this time. Nevertheless, I'm looking forward to my baby shower because I'm excited about seeing friends and family and celebrating with everyone. My best friend reminded me that this is a pretty singular event. Your first child. You're going to want to look back on this and remember it.
Today, I sent cards to people that I've been meaning to send cards to for a while. If you want to express something to someone, you should do it, no matter how long it's been since you first intended to do so. There are so many people who have contributed to my life. I don't take it for granted.
A couple of weeks ago I had lunch with an internationally known black feminist, bell hooks. She spells her name in all lowercase letters. She was born and raised in Kentucky and has an institute at a college similar to and not far from the one where I teach now. I did refer to her work in my dissertation, but I can't say I'm a bell hooks expert or anything. I was just grateful to be able to spend time with her. Many times, when I tell people where I am now, they turn up their nose. Kentucky? Why? I mean, I get it. Kentucky is not this cosmopolitan place. But there are little treasures here, and getting to meet bell hooks was undoubtedly a Kentucky experience. When I walked into the restaurant where she and another colleague were waiting, I just teared up. At first, I chalked it up to pregnancy hormones, but after thinking about it for a while, I realized there's something about being pregnant, about the prospect of bringing a new life into the world, that makes you want to be among your own—surrounded by mothers, grandmothers, aunts, women who are like you and who have the wisdom of years to share. And in that moment, I felt like I was among my own.
Saturday, September 02, 2017
Kicks
Here's the most recent picture of my little guy:
My pregnancy is definitely noticeable now. I went for my "20 week check up" this week, (even though I was technically only 18 1/2 weeks) where they check all of the baby's vital organs, etc. The first couple of ultrasounds we had were kind of emotional...hearing the baby's heartbeat, seeing him look like an actual baby, then finding out the gender, but this time we were just sort of in awe. It was like an anatomy lesson. I could see all of our son's little vertebrae, his brain, the chambers of his heart, kidneys, bladder, arms, legs, fingers and toes. It was simply amazing. Every time the technician moved the wand to get a better look at him, he would squirm away, and it was ridiculous to see him move. I'm afraid we're going to have a little wiggleworm on our hands. I praise God that he's healthy and that everything is normal.
I've started to feel him move and kick. He's especially active after I've eaten and I'm just sitting still. They say that the baby's first movements feel like flutters or bubbles, but to me, the best way to describe it is a like muscle spasm. Like, have you ever had a tiny involuntary muscle spasm? That's what it feels like on the inside of my belly when he moves. I'm sure that will change as he gets bigger. I can't wait for the kicks to get strong enough so that my husband can feel them, too.
The first week of classes went very well. Somehow, God always steps in and helps me get it together in time. It still amazes me how I've gotten this far with such reluctance to get things done. I have a great group of motivated students. This is the first time I've taught intermediate and upper level classes, so most of them actually want to be there and are not just there because it's required.
Next up on the to-do list is to start our baby registry. My mom and best friend are planning a shower and we need to get a start on the registry soon so that my mom can include info for it with the invitations. To be honest, I'm kind of overwhelmed with where to even begin, but I guess we can find guides somewhere to help us decide what the essentials are. What I don't want to do is get a bunch of silly, gimmicky stuff that we aren't going to need or use. We'll figure it out.
And here's a recent picture of me:
My pregnancy is definitely noticeable now. I went for my "20 week check up" this week, (even though I was technically only 18 1/2 weeks) where they check all of the baby's vital organs, etc. The first couple of ultrasounds we had were kind of emotional...hearing the baby's heartbeat, seeing him look like an actual baby, then finding out the gender, but this time we were just sort of in awe. It was like an anatomy lesson. I could see all of our son's little vertebrae, his brain, the chambers of his heart, kidneys, bladder, arms, legs, fingers and toes. It was simply amazing. Every time the technician moved the wand to get a better look at him, he would squirm away, and it was ridiculous to see him move. I'm afraid we're going to have a little wiggleworm on our hands. I praise God that he's healthy and that everything is normal.
I've started to feel him move and kick. He's especially active after I've eaten and I'm just sitting still. They say that the baby's first movements feel like flutters or bubbles, but to me, the best way to describe it is a like muscle spasm. Like, have you ever had a tiny involuntary muscle spasm? That's what it feels like on the inside of my belly when he moves. I'm sure that will change as he gets bigger. I can't wait for the kicks to get strong enough so that my husband can feel them, too.
The first week of classes went very well. Somehow, God always steps in and helps me get it together in time. It still amazes me how I've gotten this far with such reluctance to get things done. I have a great group of motivated students. This is the first time I've taught intermediate and upper level classes, so most of them actually want to be there and are not just there because it's required.
Next up on the to-do list is to start our baby registry. My mom and best friend are planning a shower and we need to get a start on the registry soon so that my mom can include info for it with the invitations. To be honest, I'm kind of overwhelmed with where to even begin, but I guess we can find guides somewhere to help us decide what the essentials are. What I don't want to do is get a bunch of silly, gimmicky stuff that we aren't going to need or use. We'll figure it out.
Friday, August 18, 2017
Baby Boy or Musings of a Constantly Annoyed Pregnant Girl
For the past week, I've been on vacation at the beach with my husband's side of the family. The day we left, we found out that we were having a son. I shall not present the proof, but will instead post a non-TMI picture of our little guy's profile:
We already have a name for him and I cannot wait to meet him. Within the next couple of weeks, I should be able to feel him move. I'm really looking forward to that.
We already have a name for him and I cannot wait to meet him. Within the next couple of weeks, I should be able to feel him move. I'm really looking forward to that.
Dad, future grandpa
My poor Dad got so excited about finding out the gender that in his future grandfatherly zeal, he posted it to Facebook—before we had a chance to tell the rest of our family. I get a text from my husband's, er, informative stepmother essentially letting me know that my dad posted about the baby's gender. I was annoyed and panicked. I was annoyed to get that text from her and annoyed that we didn't have the chance to tell everyone ourselves and I was panicked that precious information was out there and that I had no control over how it spread. The gender of our child was just not something I wanted on social media at all. I didn't want anyone to have a reason or opportunity to say anything weird or make any "pronouncements" over my unborn son. People can be real weirdos about gender. In the end, I called my dad and he apologized and eventually deleted his post, but then I felt bad. He's just an excited grandpa-to-be.
Charlottesville
While planning our trip to the beach, my husband and I decided to stop a little more than halfway to our destination to spend the night before continuing our trip the next day. We booked a place in Charlottesville, VA. On Friday night. The same Friday night that Nazis and white supremacists paraded around UVA's campus with torches chanting racist slogans. Thankfully, we didn't venture downtown for dinner that night and we were blissfully ignorant of anything that was going on until after we had already left town. I don't feel like exploring my feelings about it, frankly. What can I say? There are facts: 1. Racism is alive and well in 2017. 2. If you're surprised about that, you've been living with blinders on in a privileged bubble. 3. The current president was reluctant to denounce racist violence and the particular extremist groups responsible for perpetrating it. 4. There is absolutely NO equivalence whatsoever between white supremacists and Nazis representing hatred, ignorance and intolerance (e.g. being proponents of ideology desiring to wipe out entire races of people not like them and/or desiring to establish an all-white nation-state) and anti-racist activists who oppose said hatred, ignorance and intolerance. 5. I'm having to use the word "Nazi" in a sentence in 2017. 6. Removing Confederate monuments is not "erasing history," it's simply refusing to celebrate and glorify a historical faction which fought to uphold a white supremacist system. If you do not accept these facts, then there's nothing I could say to convince anyone otherwise. At this point, I refuse to take on that burden. I will do my part as an educator to educate and inform my students and make my classroom a place where we will confront "difficult" issues. However, although racism has and will continue to affect me and my family and soon my innocent son, it's not my problem to solve. It's the problem of the ones who continue to perpetuate, uphold and benefit from racism and racist systems to solve.
While planning our trip to the beach, my husband and I decided to stop a little more than halfway to our destination to spend the night before continuing our trip the next day. We booked a place in Charlottesville, VA. On Friday night. The same Friday night that Nazis and white supremacists paraded around UVA's campus with torches chanting racist slogans. Thankfully, we didn't venture downtown for dinner that night and we were blissfully ignorant of anything that was going on until after we had already left town. I don't feel like exploring my feelings about it, frankly. What can I say? There are facts: 1. Racism is alive and well in 2017. 2. If you're surprised about that, you've been living with blinders on in a privileged bubble. 3. The current president was reluctant to denounce racist violence and the particular extremist groups responsible for perpetrating it. 4. There is absolutely NO equivalence whatsoever between white supremacists and Nazis representing hatred, ignorance and intolerance (e.g. being proponents of ideology desiring to wipe out entire races of people not like them and/or desiring to establish an all-white nation-state) and anti-racist activists who oppose said hatred, ignorance and intolerance. 5. I'm having to use the word "Nazi" in a sentence in 2017. 6. Removing Confederate monuments is not "erasing history," it's simply refusing to celebrate and glorify a historical faction which fought to uphold a white supremacist system. If you do not accept these facts, then there's nothing I could say to convince anyone otherwise. At this point, I refuse to take on that burden. I will do my part as an educator to educate and inform my students and make my classroom a place where we will confront "difficult" issues. However, although racism has and will continue to affect me and my family and soon my innocent son, it's not my problem to solve. It's the problem of the ones who continue to perpetuate, uphold and benefit from racism and racist systems to solve.
Eggs, milk and bread
Since I've been pregnant, I've eaten scrambled eggs almost every morning for breakfast. I don't know what it is about scrambled eggs, but I really like them, especially with cheese, and I beat them with a little bit of milk to make them fluffy. I also usually like to have a piece of toast with my eggs. One morning this week I went to the refrigerator to make my usual breakfast—No eggs. No milk. And all the bread was gone, so no toast. It tends to happen when you have a house full of hungry people on a family vacation. I had already even put a pan on the stove to heat while I beat the eggs. I was so ready for my perfect breakfast, and my perfect breakfast dreams were dashed. I took the pan off the stove, turned off the burner and made a beeline for our room before anyone could see the tears in my eyes. My husband did see me, though, and followed me to the room. He made it his personal mission to make his pregnant, hormonal wife happy. He immediately went to the store and got the eggs, milk and bread I required. As soon as he got back, milk jug in hand, he stuck his head in the room and said, "I got the stuff you wanted," with a big grin on his face. Sweet guy.
Us
When my husband and I are out in public, we make note of the couples which fit into two categories: "us," white man/black woman couples, and "reverse us," black man/white woman couples. For reasons I shall not attempt to elaborate upon here, suffice it to say that "reverse us" is much more common than "us." So, seeing "us" in public is a pretty rare and, dare I say, satisfying (?) sighting. It's probably silly to other people, but to us, its like a validation, proof that we're not alone and that other people out there, albeit rare, know what's up. So, on our night to make dinner for the army, we went to the grocery store together and spotted "us" in the produce section. "Honey, look, there's us!" I whispered. I could not wipe the silly smile off of my face. He looked like he had some Irish in there like my easily-sunburnt husband, and she looked like a younger, athletic version of my mom with her natural hair pulled up into a curly ponytail. I tried not to become obsessed with them. I wanted them to see us, too. I suggested that we pretend to look at some bananas and walk past them so they'd notice us. I'm not sure whether they did or not, but I felt like a mischievous child. Would we have had anything to say to one another? Did we really have that much in common? Would the woman and I have become fast friends, chatting about life married to white guys over coffee? We'll never know.
Since I've been pregnant, I've eaten scrambled eggs almost every morning for breakfast. I don't know what it is about scrambled eggs, but I really like them, especially with cheese, and I beat them with a little bit of milk to make them fluffy. I also usually like to have a piece of toast with my eggs. One morning this week I went to the refrigerator to make my usual breakfast—No eggs. No milk. And all the bread was gone, so no toast. It tends to happen when you have a house full of hungry people on a family vacation. I had already even put a pan on the stove to heat while I beat the eggs. I was so ready for my perfect breakfast, and my perfect breakfast dreams were dashed. I took the pan off the stove, turned off the burner and made a beeline for our room before anyone could see the tears in my eyes. My husband did see me, though, and followed me to the room. He made it his personal mission to make his pregnant, hormonal wife happy. He immediately went to the store and got the eggs, milk and bread I required. As soon as he got back, milk jug in hand, he stuck his head in the room and said, "I got the stuff you wanted," with a big grin on his face. Sweet guy.
Us
When my husband and I are out in public, we make note of the couples which fit into two categories: "us," white man/black woman couples, and "reverse us," black man/white woman couples. For reasons I shall not attempt to elaborate upon here, suffice it to say that "reverse us" is much more common than "us." So, seeing "us" in public is a pretty rare and, dare I say, satisfying (?) sighting. It's probably silly to other people, but to us, its like a validation, proof that we're not alone and that other people out there, albeit rare, know what's up. So, on our night to make dinner for the army, we went to the grocery store together and spotted "us" in the produce section. "Honey, look, there's us!" I whispered. I could not wipe the silly smile off of my face. He looked like he had some Irish in there like my easily-sunburnt husband, and she looked like a younger, athletic version of my mom with her natural hair pulled up into a curly ponytail. I tried not to become obsessed with them. I wanted them to see us, too. I suggested that we pretend to look at some bananas and walk past them so they'd notice us. I'm not sure whether they did or not, but I felt like a mischievous child. Would we have had anything to say to one another? Did we really have that much in common? Would the woman and I have become fast friends, chatting about life married to white guys over coffee? We'll never know.
Nursery
The question I used to get annoyed by when we got married was "How's married life?" I know, it's an innocuous, small talk question just meant to make conversation and show interest in your life. But I couldn't help myself. Although I would smile politely and give a polite, banal response, deep in my soul, I shivered at the inanity of the question. My new annoying question is, "Are you going to set up a nursery/Have you thought about colors/a theme for the nursery?" *shivers* I know, it's just another innocuous small talk question meant to make conversation and show interest in your life. And I really don't have anything against anyone who has asked me this. But the reason I'm bothered by it is because just as I wasn't into the frou frou of a wedding a couple of years ago, I'm not yet into the frou frou of nesting for baby. And it's annoying that I'm expected to be. It's just assumed that I'm going to have a nursery (or that I should) and that it's going to be exquisitely decked out and color coordinated and perfectly set up before baby comes. Get away from me, get out of my face and saddown wit that. All the baby is going to need for the first few months is me, my husband, a place to sleep, food (again, me) and a constant supply of diapers. To be honest, another reason why I bristle at the nursery question is because we're renting and where we're living right now is not ours. It just feels small and temporary and not-mine. And it doesn't make me want to go all out on a nursery. Maybe I'll feel more excited about that aspect of being a new mom once we have a place to call our own.
The question I used to get annoyed by when we got married was "How's married life?" I know, it's an innocuous, small talk question just meant to make conversation and show interest in your life. But I couldn't help myself. Although I would smile politely and give a polite, banal response, deep in my soul, I shivered at the inanity of the question. My new annoying question is, "Are you going to set up a nursery/Have you thought about colors/a theme for the nursery?" *shivers* I know, it's just another innocuous small talk question meant to make conversation and show interest in your life. And I really don't have anything against anyone who has asked me this. But the reason I'm bothered by it is because just as I wasn't into the frou frou of a wedding a couple of years ago, I'm not yet into the frou frou of nesting for baby. And it's annoying that I'm expected to be. It's just assumed that I'm going to have a nursery (or that I should) and that it's going to be exquisitely decked out and color coordinated and perfectly set up before baby comes. Get away from me, get out of my face and saddown wit that. All the baby is going to need for the first few months is me, my husband, a place to sleep, food (again, me) and a constant supply of diapers. To be honest, another reason why I bristle at the nursery question is because we're renting and where we're living right now is not ours. It just feels small and temporary and not-mine. And it doesn't make me want to go all out on a nursery. Maybe I'll feel more excited about that aspect of being a new mom once we have a place to call our own.
Friday, August 04, 2017
Pregnant Girl Reflections
I'm planning on telling my students on the first day of class that I'm pregnant just to get it out there, so that there'll be no speculation or anything like that. I won't be gigantic, but I think by the time classes start in a little over 3 weeks, the pregnancy will be somewhat noticeable. Anyway, I was just thinking about the prospect of telling my students, and for some reason I'm preoccupied/uncomfortable with the idea of my students thinking about my having sex. If being pregnant is anything, at its most basic and fundamental level, it's physical proof and a tangible manifestation of an undeniable fact: You had sex.
On one hand, it's ridiculous to care about that. Who cares? It's a part of being human, and my students aren't hormonal middle schoolers who giggle at anything even approximating the word "sex" (like when I taught ordinal numbers to 6th graders and they discovered that the way to say "I'm in the 6th grade" in Spanish is "Estoy en el sexto grado"). But still, the knowledge that your professor is a sexual being is weird. Not completely unlike when I was in grad school and my students were weirded out when they saw me riding the campus transit just like they did. You...ride the bus? When you're an educator, you're put in this non-human category, like, your life only exists in the classroom and if anything interferes with the schema of you existing in the classroom, the resulting cognitive dissonance is too much to bear. I don't want my students to view me in a weird way, and I most certainly don't want anyone to creepily ponder what I did (as if it were some sort of salacious crime) to end up this way (as if being pregnant were a way to "end up").
I guess I'm also concerned whether being a pregnant professor will affect my classroom authority as well as the perception of my competence as a professional and a scholar even more than it is already affected. Let's be honest, being young-looking, female and black at a predominantly white institution are already strikes against me as far as perceptions of gravitas are concerned. I enjoy where I am and I have been praised for my willingness to participate in the campus community and for engaging my students, but one of my needs-improvement areas is "rigor." Essentially, my grades are too high. I get it, grade inflation is a thing. I was already paranoid about being seen as an "easy professor" and in a way, my fears were confirmed. I don't want to be the prof that the kids love because I'm smiley and bubbly and upbeat, but don't make them work hard. What does being pregnant have to do with anything? On top of not wanting to be seen as "easy," I don't want to be seen as somehow unconcerned about professional advancement because I'm supposedly kicking back, having babies and am more focused on setting up a nursery than attaining tenure. To be fair, there are plenty of women at my institution who are successful professors and mothers. I'm glad that I'm at a place that is considered "family friendly" overall.
Nevertheless, my professional preoccupations notwithstanding, I am completely happy with accepting my most important job right now which is taking care of myself, having a healthy pregnancy and giving birth to a healthy baby. I can't believe that a week from today, we will find out the baby's gender. It'll be nice to finally refer to the baby as "he" or "she" rather than as a not-quite-human "it." We'll finally be able to refer to the baby with his or her name. I'm slowly starting to dip my toes into the baby product waters. My mom is champing at the bit to buy things for her first grandchild, so why not indulge her? I want one of those strollers you can just snap the car seat onto. No getting the baby out of the car seat or carrying that mamma jamma like a boulder attached to your hip. Snap off, snap on, let's go.
On one hand, it's ridiculous to care about that. Who cares? It's a part of being human, and my students aren't hormonal middle schoolers who giggle at anything even approximating the word "sex" (like when I taught ordinal numbers to 6th graders and they discovered that the way to say "I'm in the 6th grade" in Spanish is "Estoy en el sexto grado"). But still, the knowledge that your professor is a sexual being is weird. Not completely unlike when I was in grad school and my students were weirded out when they saw me riding the campus transit just like they did. You...ride the bus? When you're an educator, you're put in this non-human category, like, your life only exists in the classroom and if anything interferes with the schema of you existing in the classroom, the resulting cognitive dissonance is too much to bear. I don't want my students to view me in a weird way, and I most certainly don't want anyone to creepily ponder what I did (as if it were some sort of salacious crime) to end up this way (as if being pregnant were a way to "end up").
I guess I'm also concerned whether being a pregnant professor will affect my classroom authority as well as the perception of my competence as a professional and a scholar even more than it is already affected. Let's be honest, being young-looking, female and black at a predominantly white institution are already strikes against me as far as perceptions of gravitas are concerned. I enjoy where I am and I have been praised for my willingness to participate in the campus community and for engaging my students, but one of my needs-improvement areas is "rigor." Essentially, my grades are too high. I get it, grade inflation is a thing. I was already paranoid about being seen as an "easy professor" and in a way, my fears were confirmed. I don't want to be the prof that the kids love because I'm smiley and bubbly and upbeat, but don't make them work hard. What does being pregnant have to do with anything? On top of not wanting to be seen as "easy," I don't want to be seen as somehow unconcerned about professional advancement because I'm supposedly kicking back, having babies and am more focused on setting up a nursery than attaining tenure. To be fair, there are plenty of women at my institution who are successful professors and mothers. I'm glad that I'm at a place that is considered "family friendly" overall.
Nevertheless, my professional preoccupations notwithstanding, I am completely happy with accepting my most important job right now which is taking care of myself, having a healthy pregnancy and giving birth to a healthy baby. I can't believe that a week from today, we will find out the baby's gender. It'll be nice to finally refer to the baby as "he" or "she" rather than as a not-quite-human "it." We'll finally be able to refer to the baby with his or her name. I'm slowly starting to dip my toes into the baby product waters. My mom is champing at the bit to buy things for her first grandchild, so why not indulge her? I want one of those strollers you can just snap the car seat onto. No getting the baby out of the car seat or carrying that mamma jamma like a boulder attached to your hip. Snap off, snap on, let's go.
Wednesday, July 26, 2017
This is what I need me to understand...
Listen, you. Stop it. You know what I'm talking about. Stop doing this dumb, embarrassing thing where you get concerned about other people's lives. You want people to let you live, so let other people live. Someone else's happiness is not a detriment to your own, even if that someone else deeply hurt you in the past.
Can you please maintain your focus on the blessings in your life right now? You married a good man. A man who loves you, respects you, adores you and truly wants to make you happy. A handsome, honest, sincere, sensitive, hard-working man. That is a straight up blessing. Can you stop and remember right now how God sweetly introduced this man into your life? You are starting a family with this good man. You have a healthy, acrobatic baby growing inside of you right now that will be a combination of you and this good man. There are people in this world who would love nothing more than the chance to conceive and start a family. You've been given that chance. It is a gift.
Even though you didn't necessarily plan to conceive at the time that you did, God knew what He was doing. You just had a meeting with the Dean, and to make a long story short, you will be allowed to have the maximum possible time with your baby and get paid. You will have all of January, February, March, April, May, June, July and August to be with your child after s/he is born. That is a blessing.
Girl, if you don't stop. You are beyond blessed. Being blessed doesn't mean everything is perfect. But you are undoubtedly blessed.
Can you please maintain your focus on the blessings in your life right now? You married a good man. A man who loves you, respects you, adores you and truly wants to make you happy. A handsome, honest, sincere, sensitive, hard-working man. That is a straight up blessing. Can you stop and remember right now how God sweetly introduced this man into your life? You are starting a family with this good man. You have a healthy, acrobatic baby growing inside of you right now that will be a combination of you and this good man. There are people in this world who would love nothing more than the chance to conceive and start a family. You've been given that chance. It is a gift.
Even though you didn't necessarily plan to conceive at the time that you did, God knew what He was doing. You just had a meeting with the Dean, and to make a long story short, you will be allowed to have the maximum possible time with your baby and get paid. You will have all of January, February, March, April, May, June, July and August to be with your child after s/he is born. That is a blessing.
Girl, if you don't stop. You are beyond blessed. Being blessed doesn't mean everything is perfect. But you are undoubtedly blessed.
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
Cat's Out the Bag...
Here ye, hear ye...this is the little picture we ended up sharing via FB to announce our pregnancy to the world at large:
I was a little annoyed that it came out slightly off-center, but hey, let's say this can be the beginning of my journey of letting go of insignificant things.
There was a little paranoid part of me that was afraid that once our announcement was out there, I would wholly expose myself to a myriad of cray comments and unsolicited advice, but I was pleased to see that people responded pretty normally. Simple variations of "Congratulations." There was that one stray comment that I declined to like from a colleague who just had a baby himself, which is why I guess he felt emboldened with his newly acquired status of fatherhood to write, not "Congratulations," but "Sleep now and often." Boy, saddown.
Like, I get it (not really, but theoretically), when the baby is born, you don't get any sleep because it wakes up and cries and needs to be fed and is uber needy and you're walking around like a zombie. You're not telling me anything I haven't already heard. "You're not going to get any sleep" as a response to a pregnancy announcement is the equivalent to "Marriage is hard" as a response to an engagement announcement. It's kind of like, just as I was aware that marriage was not going to be this everlastingly glorious love cloud, I'm quite aware that caring for a baby is not going to be this cornucopia of warm snuggles and precious cooing, so, can you just wish me well and shaddap? Surriously. Anyway, it is nice to openly talk about it, not have to think about who knows and who doesn't know. Let the info just float around out there and spread, as such info is wont to do.
I'm getting a tiny little pudge. Baby bump-ish. Enough to wonder if I'm pregnant or just chunky around the middle:
There was a little paranoid part of me that was afraid that once our announcement was out there, I would wholly expose myself to a myriad of cray comments and unsolicited advice, but I was pleased to see that people responded pretty normally. Simple variations of "Congratulations." There was that one stray comment that I declined to like from a colleague who just had a baby himself, which is why I guess he felt emboldened with his newly acquired status of fatherhood to write, not "Congratulations," but "Sleep now and often." Boy, saddown.
Like, I get it (not really, but theoretically), when the baby is born, you don't get any sleep because it wakes up and cries and needs to be fed and is uber needy and you're walking around like a zombie. You're not telling me anything I haven't already heard. "You're not going to get any sleep" as a response to a pregnancy announcement is the equivalent to "Marriage is hard" as a response to an engagement announcement. It's kind of like, just as I was aware that marriage was not going to be this everlastingly glorious love cloud, I'm quite aware that caring for a baby is not going to be this cornucopia of warm snuggles and precious cooing, so, can you just wish me well and shaddap? Surriously. Anyway, it is nice to openly talk about it, not have to think about who knows and who doesn't know. Let the info just float around out there and spread, as such info is wont to do.
I'm getting a tiny little pudge. Baby bump-ish. Enough to wonder if I'm pregnant or just chunky around the middle:
In less than a month, we'll find out whether we're having a little me or a little P!
Thursday, July 13, 2017
From Bean to Humanoid
So, I'm currently 11 weeks along and I had another ultrasound yesterday. I mean, if you compare the last time we saw the baby to this time...it's ridiculous. I mean, the last time we saw it, it was a little beany blob. This time it's like a legit little human. I swore I would never put ultrasound pictures online (still won't on FB), but I can't help myself. Like, the baby looks like...an actual baby:
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| Straight up little baby |
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| Hey, guys! |
I can't believe this little being is literally inside of me right now. And the second picture! S/he's waving at us! It's all just amazing and overwhelming and unbelievable. During the ultrasound, the baby was even moving and jumping around like a little acrobat. I can't feel anything yet, but I guess I should get ready. In about a month we'll be able to find out the gender. We do not want to be surprised and we are NOT doing a gender reveal party. I don't want to knock it for people who think it's cute. There's nothing inherently wrong with the gender reveal thing, but I just can't. To be honest, I think it's kind of silly. I'm just not into the whole, boys are all blue and trucks and girls are all pink and frills. It's just irritating. Anyway, ahem, excuse me as I step off my soapbox...
Here's something I realize I really need to get a handle on before the little one comes along...my need for things to be done a certain way (my way). When the little one arrives, what's going to matter is that things are done, not necessarily done the way I would have liked them to be done. It would be a very big mistake to make my husband feel like he's not doing things "the right way" when it comes to caring for our child. I'm going to have to super let that obsessive urge go.
In a little over a week, I'll be officially past the first trimester and we'll finally make our grand announcement to the world!
Friday, July 07, 2017
Gummies and Other Musings
I finished a bottle of prenatal vitamins that weren't my favorite. Horse pills with a nasty aftertaste. So, this time I decided to get those gummy vitamins. Besides, I had a coupon for them. I had flashbacks of the days my mom would give us those Flintstone vitamins that tasted like candy.
Boy, was I wrong. Those things are revolting. I much prefer the horse pills. But now I'm stuck with a giant bottle of ghastly tasting gummies and have to take two a day. Boooooo!
Saturday starts week 11 of the pregnancy. I'm nearing the end of the first trimester. My three apps compare the baby's size to different fruits: one says it's the size of a prune, the other two say it's the size of a kumquat. According to the little picture it shows of the fetus (it graduated from embryo status this week), it actually looks like a little human and less like a reptilian alien with a tail. I have another ultrasound on Tuesday. I'm looking forward to seeing how much the little one has grown since the last time.
I'm really trying to get it together. I've been pretty sluggish and fatigued lately. I don't feel like doing anything, going anywhere or talking to anyone. I've been a little lazy hermit lately. But I have things to do...classes to plan for, articles to revise...ugh. Not to mention a move next week. It's not a major move, just 10 minutes across town, but moving is always such a hassle.
Sometimes I can't believe that this is who I am. Like, a married, pregnant professor. I look at my husband sometimes and think, how am I married? Like, there's a grown man I wake up next to every morning that I will supposedly wake up next to every morning for the rest of my life. How am I literally carrying a human being inside of my body? How am I a professor? I mean, I know how, but as I was scrambling eggs this morning, I was overcome with this sense of How did I get here? I was suddenly struck with the fact that we make choices and one thing leads to another and we end up in certain places. It's not a negative thing, but it's just the realization that there is no way I could have ever guessed that I'd be in this particular place at this particular time. I mean, if someone had told me back in 2010 when I was going through the worst time in my life working at the job from hell that in a few years I'd be married, in Kentucky with a PhD and a better job and a baby on the way, I couldn't have imagined it. A PhD? (I swore I'd never get one.) In Kentucky? (Why?) Married to a guy you had barely even heard of 8 months before you got engaged? (Who does that?) When I say I couldn't have imagined it, I don't mean that now I'm at some sort of a golden place that is the end all, be all, I mean I couldn't have imagined it because none of it would have made sense to me at the time.
It's hard to see my present soon becoming my past. It's hard to see because although I realize I have come a long way, I want more. I'm grateful for this place, but I don't want to stay in this place. It's hard to see that I've never stayed in a place, so why would this present be my indefinite present, when none of my "presents" ever have? I want a good job for my husband. I want a house with lots of room to grow. I want a garden. I want to travel internationally with my family. In time.
Boy, was I wrong. Those things are revolting. I much prefer the horse pills. But now I'm stuck with a giant bottle of ghastly tasting gummies and have to take two a day. Boooooo!
Saturday starts week 11 of the pregnancy. I'm nearing the end of the first trimester. My three apps compare the baby's size to different fruits: one says it's the size of a prune, the other two say it's the size of a kumquat. According to the little picture it shows of the fetus (it graduated from embryo status this week), it actually looks like a little human and less like a reptilian alien with a tail. I have another ultrasound on Tuesday. I'm looking forward to seeing how much the little one has grown since the last time.
I'm really trying to get it together. I've been pretty sluggish and fatigued lately. I don't feel like doing anything, going anywhere or talking to anyone. I've been a little lazy hermit lately. But I have things to do...classes to plan for, articles to revise...ugh. Not to mention a move next week. It's not a major move, just 10 minutes across town, but moving is always such a hassle.
Sometimes I can't believe that this is who I am. Like, a married, pregnant professor. I look at my husband sometimes and think, how am I married? Like, there's a grown man I wake up next to every morning that I will supposedly wake up next to every morning for the rest of my life. How am I literally carrying a human being inside of my body? How am I a professor? I mean, I know how, but as I was scrambling eggs this morning, I was overcome with this sense of How did I get here? I was suddenly struck with the fact that we make choices and one thing leads to another and we end up in certain places. It's not a negative thing, but it's just the realization that there is no way I could have ever guessed that I'd be in this particular place at this particular time. I mean, if someone had told me back in 2010 when I was going through the worst time in my life working at the job from hell that in a few years I'd be married, in Kentucky with a PhD and a better job and a baby on the way, I couldn't have imagined it. A PhD? (I swore I'd never get one.) In Kentucky? (Why?) Married to a guy you had barely even heard of 8 months before you got engaged? (Who does that?) When I say I couldn't have imagined it, I don't mean that now I'm at some sort of a golden place that is the end all, be all, I mean I couldn't have imagined it because none of it would have made sense to me at the time.
It's hard to see my present soon becoming my past. It's hard to see because although I realize I have come a long way, I want more. I'm grateful for this place, but I don't want to stay in this place. It's hard to see that I've never stayed in a place, so why would this present be my indefinite present, when none of my "presents" ever have? I want a good job for my husband. I want a house with lots of room to grow. I want a garden. I want to travel internationally with my family. In time.
Tuesday, June 27, 2017
Nice Guys Finish First
I remember being a stupid teenager and thinking that I didn't like guys who were "too nice." And now that I'm married with a bambino on the way, I'm like, what does "too nice" even mean? I wish I could go back and inform my stupid teenage self that if I were ever planning on getting pregnant in the future, a "nice guy" is precisely the kind of husband you need.
Seriously. I would NOT want to have to rely on a dude bro right now. I'm dead serious. I am so grateful for my nice guy.
When I say my husband is a nice guy, what I mean is that he's caring, kind and nurturing. He always asks how I'm feeling, he always asks if I need anything or if there's anything he can do, he often talks to the baby, saying how much he loves him/her and how he can't wait to meet him/her, he's educating himself on how my body is changing and how the baby is growing. He's all in.
The latest thing he did was investigate a body pillow for me. We were visiting with a friend and she suggested getting one as soon as possible because we didn't want to wait until I actually needed it to think about it. It was a good idea, but I sort of forgot about it. My husband didn't. He started looking for the best brands and later told me that he even messaged my friend to ask about the kind she used and ordered one for me. It was just sweet. It's a relief to know I have a partner who cares about my comfort even more than I do.
Seriously. I would NOT want to have to rely on a dude bro right now. I'm dead serious. I am so grateful for my nice guy.
When I say my husband is a nice guy, what I mean is that he's caring, kind and nurturing. He always asks how I'm feeling, he always asks if I need anything or if there's anything he can do, he often talks to the baby, saying how much he loves him/her and how he can't wait to meet him/her, he's educating himself on how my body is changing and how the baby is growing. He's all in.
The latest thing he did was investigate a body pillow for me. We were visiting with a friend and she suggested getting one as soon as possible because we didn't want to wait until I actually needed it to think about it. It was a good idea, but I sort of forgot about it. My husband didn't. He started looking for the best brands and later told me that he even messaged my friend to ask about the kind she used and ordered one for me. It was just sweet. It's a relief to know I have a partner who cares about my comfort even more than I do.
Monday, June 12, 2017
Hi, my name is Baby.
Mommy and Daddy went to the doctor today and saw me for the first time. There I was, up on the screen. Well, at this point, I look kind of like a bean-shaped blob and less like a human, but Mommy and Daddy could hear my heart beat. It was so loud and fast! Mommy started crying. The lady took pictures of me and told Mommy and Daddy my birthday. January 27.
I'm about a week younger than Mommy thought I was when she first went to the doctor, so today, I'm 7 weeks and 2 days old, still the size of a blueberry. Daddy talks to me a lot. He says, "I love you, Baby, and I want to keep you safe and warm." Mommy feeds me. Sometimes she gives me healthy food like avocados and bananas and blueberries and yogurt and spinach and tomatoes and salmon and eggs and red peppers. But sometimes she gives me junk food like Tostitos and cheese dip, orange creamsicle ice cream and brownies. Hee, hee. Mommy can be naughty sometimes.
I can't wait to meet Mommy and Daddy. They seem nice. They said they were going to teach me Spanish and Daddy said he was going to teach me how to play the guitar. Mommy already has books that she wants to read to me. She has a whole book of Curious George stories for me and even a Curious George doll.
Mommy says she's really glad I haven't been making her sick. I have been making her tired though. And hungry at weird times. And sometimes I keep her up at night. Sorry, Mommy. The next time Mommy and Daddy see me will be in 4 weeks. Meanwhile, I'll keep eating and growing and becoming a strong, healthy baby!
I'm about a week younger than Mommy thought I was when she first went to the doctor, so today, I'm 7 weeks and 2 days old, still the size of a blueberry. Daddy talks to me a lot. He says, "I love you, Baby, and I want to keep you safe and warm." Mommy feeds me. Sometimes she gives me healthy food like avocados and bananas and blueberries and yogurt and spinach and tomatoes and salmon and eggs and red peppers. But sometimes she gives me junk food like Tostitos and cheese dip, orange creamsicle ice cream and brownies. Hee, hee. Mommy can be naughty sometimes.
I can't wait to meet Mommy and Daddy. They seem nice. They said they were going to teach me Spanish and Daddy said he was going to teach me how to play the guitar. Mommy already has books that she wants to read to me. She has a whole book of Curious George stories for me and even a Curious George doll.
Mommy says she's really glad I haven't been making her sick. I have been making her tired though. And hungry at weird times. And sometimes I keep her up at night. Sorry, Mommy. The next time Mommy and Daddy see me will be in 4 weeks. Meanwhile, I'll keep eating and growing and becoming a strong, healthy baby!
Saturday, June 10, 2017
It's 4:00 a.m., I'm Up and I'm Hungry
So, here I am, simultaneously blogging and making a grilled cheese sandwich.
Apparently, first-trimester insomnia is a thing.
I'm just tired all the time and it's really tempting to nap during the day, and I think that's part of what's messing my sleep cycle up. That, and always having to get up to tinkle.
Still no major symptoms, but there are a few little oddities: I have a stuffy/runny nose which I noticed right before I found out I was pregnant and still hasn't gone away. I'm always sneezing and blowing my nose like I have allergies. I've since learned that that's known as pregnancy rhinitis. Great. I also get itchy from time to time. Supposedly that's a thing because of "increased blood supply to the skin." Also great. One other thing, I used to inadvertently skip meals if I got distracted by work or whatever, like, I'd get hungry, but never like, I-need-food-this-instant kind of hungry. But now, my stomach literally hurts if I don't eat. I'm totally like, "Get in my belly!" I have to admit, though, I'm very thankful I haven't had to deal with nausea or morning sickness.
Let's see if I can get at least a few winks before the sun comes up.
Apparently, first-trimester insomnia is a thing.
I'm just tired all the time and it's really tempting to nap during the day, and I think that's part of what's messing my sleep cycle up. That, and always having to get up to tinkle.
Still no major symptoms, but there are a few little oddities: I have a stuffy/runny nose which I noticed right before I found out I was pregnant and still hasn't gone away. I'm always sneezing and blowing my nose like I have allergies. I've since learned that that's known as pregnancy rhinitis. Great. I also get itchy from time to time. Supposedly that's a thing because of "increased blood supply to the skin." Also great. One other thing, I used to inadvertently skip meals if I got distracted by work or whatever, like, I'd get hungry, but never like, I-need-food-this-instant kind of hungry. But now, my stomach literally hurts if I don't eat. I'm totally like, "Get in my belly!" I have to admit, though, I'm very thankful I haven't had to deal with nausea or morning sickness.
Let's see if I can get at least a few winks before the sun comes up.
Friday, June 02, 2017
Unreal
Today my baby is the size of a blueberry.
It still doesn't feel real. Like, I don't feel like I'm pregnant (whatever that's supposed to feel like because I've never been pregnant before) and I don't feel like in a few months an entire human being is going to come out of me. I just can't fathom it. I even took another pregnancy test a few days ago just to make sure I was still pregnant.
When we first found out, we were really excited. We called our friends and family and received lots of well-wishes, and it was our anniversary and everything. A perfect day to find out. It felt really special and new and exciting. But since then, it's like, life goes on. I mean, I have my little apps and we checked out a few pregnancy books from the library that we leaf through every now and then, but I haven't really felt excited about it since the day we initially found out.
I suppose I should be thankful that I haven't experienced any morning sickness or any major discomfort yet. But my lack of symptoms is a part of what is making me feel like it's not real.
Maybe I'll feel differently about it when we go back to the doctor in a little over a week from now and actually get to see the baby.
Even though the whole concept of having a baby feels extremely abstract and theoretical right now, I will admit to being a little preoccupied with what the child will look like. I had a dream that I had a son and he looked exactly like my husband. Very white, with freckles and hazel eyes. I remember feeling sad that the baby didn't look like me at all and thought that people wouldn't believe that he was my son. It's one of my fears, I guess. I want our child to be connected to his or her African-American heritage, and I fear that the less they look like me, the less their African-Americanness will have anything to do with how they are perceived and ultimately how they perceive themselves.
I dread the day a stranger approaches me and asks, "Is s/he yours?" Ugh. I'm already trying to think of witty rejoinders to make people think twice about making certain assumptions.
Saturday, May 27, 2017
"Preggo" is to Pregnant as "Hubby" is to Husband
I'm really into not being one of "those" women. And I guess pregnancy will be no exception.
Of course, I'm really excited, but there's a part of me that really fears being just another basic pregnant woman.
I finally experienced something when I had my first appointment that my friend had expressed to me a long time ago: The feeling of knowing you're just another patient to them. In your mind, you've just made a life-changing discovery. In their mind, this is routine. I'm not saying anyone was rude to me or anything. Everyone was super nice and attentive and informative, but it's this realization that you're nothing special to them. You're just one of many.
So, on one hand I'm aware of the fact that being pregnant is nothing original, but on the other, it's original to me and I don't want to be one of many. And that brings me back to the idea of not wanting to be one of "those" pregnant women. Just like I didn't want to be one of "those" married women.
People who say "preggo" are the same kinds of people who say "hubby." It's annoying, saccharine, cookie-cutter and trite. And along with that are posts about your cravings and the emotional roller coaster you're on and belly pictures and ending everything with #preggo. Ugh. That is not going to be me.
I was bummed when we couldn't see the baby with the ultrasound I had at my first appointment. It's still really early and I was told that maybe I wasn't as far along as I thought. When I go back in a few weeks, I was told we should definitely be able to see it. It still feels pretty surreal, and maybe actually seeing it will make it more concrete to me. But I swear, when we do get to see the little one, I am NOT putting an ultrasound picture on social media. It just looks weird and ghosty and grainy and not even human. Plus, like, I don't want the world to be able to see the inside of my uterus. Ew. Just like when people post pictures of their positive pregnancy tests...it's like, dude, you're plastering something you just peed on all over the internet.
But, I will admit that I am trying to think of a clever way to announce it once I get past my first trimester. P and I have coffee mugs that say "Mr." and "Mrs." that we got as a wedding present, and I was thinking of taking a picture of the mugs alongside a sippy cup or a bottle or like a miniature-sized coffee mug with "January 2018" as the caption. That would be cute, right?
Despite my aversion to being one of "those" pregnant women, I have to admit that I'm still a sucker for cuteness.
Of course, I'm really excited, but there's a part of me that really fears being just another basic pregnant woman.
I finally experienced something when I had my first appointment that my friend had expressed to me a long time ago: The feeling of knowing you're just another patient to them. In your mind, you've just made a life-changing discovery. In their mind, this is routine. I'm not saying anyone was rude to me or anything. Everyone was super nice and attentive and informative, but it's this realization that you're nothing special to them. You're just one of many.
So, on one hand I'm aware of the fact that being pregnant is nothing original, but on the other, it's original to me and I don't want to be one of many. And that brings me back to the idea of not wanting to be one of "those" pregnant women. Just like I didn't want to be one of "those" married women.
People who say "preggo" are the same kinds of people who say "hubby." It's annoying, saccharine, cookie-cutter and trite. And along with that are posts about your cravings and the emotional roller coaster you're on and belly pictures and ending everything with #preggo. Ugh. That is not going to be me.
I was bummed when we couldn't see the baby with the ultrasound I had at my first appointment. It's still really early and I was told that maybe I wasn't as far along as I thought. When I go back in a few weeks, I was told we should definitely be able to see it. It still feels pretty surreal, and maybe actually seeing it will make it more concrete to me. But I swear, when we do get to see the little one, I am NOT putting an ultrasound picture on social media. It just looks weird and ghosty and grainy and not even human. Plus, like, I don't want the world to be able to see the inside of my uterus. Ew. Just like when people post pictures of their positive pregnancy tests...it's like, dude, you're plastering something you just peed on all over the internet.
But, I will admit that I am trying to think of a clever way to announce it once I get past my first trimester. P and I have coffee mugs that say "Mr." and "Mrs." that we got as a wedding present, and I was thinking of taking a picture of the mugs alongside a sippy cup or a bottle or like a miniature-sized coffee mug with "January 2018" as the caption. That would be cute, right?
Despite my aversion to being one of "those" pregnant women, I have to admit that I'm still a sucker for cuteness.
Sunday, May 21, 2017
Telling People
Today our baby is the size of a chocolate chip and I'm on an avocado toast kick.
I've already told a few people...more than I probably should have at this point. It's just that I'm so excited and I love seeing people's reactions when I do.
Anyway, of course, we'll wait until the 12-week mark to make any kinds of general announcements, but I wonder if we'll make any kind of announcement at all (at least via social media) because my husband is kind of averse to it. He feels like it would make it less special and personal. Having a baby is a very intimate thing, and plastering it all over social media invites way too many people in on it. And to an extent, I agree.
But there's also a part of me that wants people to know, you know what I'm saying? And I guess part of my reasoning may be a little petty, I'll admit that.
It's just that for so long, I felt like many people (particularly church people) had sort of written me off. For a while, I was 30+, still in school (I can't tell you how much it annoyed me when people would say that. "You're still in school?"), and no man in sight. Egads! I felt like this anomaly people pitied. And while I'll admit that I did struggle with loneliness at times, I can honestly say I never regretted my choices. Ever. Not once did I ever think that I should have married fresh out of undergrad, started piling buns in the oven and lived out the rest of my days in my hometown going to Golden Corral after church every Sunday. Nah. Even though the very idea of a woman "having it all" is super problematic (I mean, no one ever asks if it's possible for a man to "have it all"), there's a part of me that feels like getting married and now having a baby on the way is kinda like IN YO FACE. I can have it all. I can be in school "forever," travel the world, get a couple of advanced degrees, have a career doing what I enjoy, marry a great guy (while still in school, at that) and have a baby. Howbow dah?
And (this is extra petty)...I will also admit that part of my desire to tell certain people is so that certain other people will find out. And when I say certain other people, I'm talking about a right-before-I-met-my-husband person. Is it wrong to feel like I've won? I got married and had a baby before you, son! I beat you. I am victorious. I am the winner. I won. I said it was extra petty.
It's also kind of cute to be in social situations where a few people know but others don't, and so you're giving each other conspiratorial smiles and winks. We were at a party last night in honor of one of my colleagues passing her mid-probationary review. Someone who knew came up to us and whispered, "Secret congratulations." He's a goofy guy to begin with, but him telling us that was just extra goofy and cute, cuz you know, he was part of the "insider" group who knew.
But here's what I'm not looking forward to: The more people find out, the more people will feel invited to give unsolicited advice, pass unsolicited judgment, and regale me with unsolicited horror stories. And I suspect that will make me want to schlap folks in the face.
I wonder: What causes people to act the most crazy, weddings or babies?
I've already told a few people...more than I probably should have at this point. It's just that I'm so excited and I love seeing people's reactions when I do.
Anyway, of course, we'll wait until the 12-week mark to make any kinds of general announcements, but I wonder if we'll make any kind of announcement at all (at least via social media) because my husband is kind of averse to it. He feels like it would make it less special and personal. Having a baby is a very intimate thing, and plastering it all over social media invites way too many people in on it. And to an extent, I agree.
But there's also a part of me that wants people to know, you know what I'm saying? And I guess part of my reasoning may be a little petty, I'll admit that.
It's just that for so long, I felt like many people (particularly church people) had sort of written me off. For a while, I was 30+, still in school (I can't tell you how much it annoyed me when people would say that. "You're still in school?"), and no man in sight. Egads! I felt like this anomaly people pitied. And while I'll admit that I did struggle with loneliness at times, I can honestly say I never regretted my choices. Ever. Not once did I ever think that I should have married fresh out of undergrad, started piling buns in the oven and lived out the rest of my days in my hometown going to Golden Corral after church every Sunday. Nah. Even though the very idea of a woman "having it all" is super problematic (I mean, no one ever asks if it's possible for a man to "have it all"), there's a part of me that feels like getting married and now having a baby on the way is kinda like IN YO FACE. I can have it all. I can be in school "forever," travel the world, get a couple of advanced degrees, have a career doing what I enjoy, marry a great guy (while still in school, at that) and have a baby. Howbow dah?
And (this is extra petty)...I will also admit that part of my desire to tell certain people is so that certain other people will find out. And when I say certain other people, I'm talking about a right-before-I-met-my-husband person. Is it wrong to feel like I've won? I got married and had a baby before you, son! I beat you. I am victorious. I am the winner. I won. I said it was extra petty.
It's also kind of cute to be in social situations where a few people know but others don't, and so you're giving each other conspiratorial smiles and winks. We were at a party last night in honor of one of my colleagues passing her mid-probationary review. Someone who knew came up to us and whispered, "Secret congratulations." He's a goofy guy to begin with, but him telling us that was just extra goofy and cute, cuz you know, he was part of the "insider" group who knew.
But here's what I'm not looking forward to: The more people find out, the more people will feel invited to give unsolicited advice, pass unsolicited judgment, and regale me with unsolicited horror stories. And I suspect that will make me want to schlap folks in the face.
I wonder: What causes people to act the most crazy, weddings or babies?
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Tomato Seed
The weird thing about this blog is that either people who I'm really close to read it or people who I haven't actually met in real life read it. I know my readership has probably plunged since I don't update it as often these days, but to be honest, I don't really know for sure who (still) reads it.
Anyway, it's weird because I've had this blog for so long...over ten years, since before I graduated from undergrad. Now here I am, a few degrees, a few moves and a husband later, and it still functions as a creative outlet of sorts. So, dear reader, if you're still here, whether you know me personally or not, you have been with me through a lot. So, although I don't want to release this info to the general public yet, I don't feel like I'm releasing it to the general public by writing about it on my blog.
Yesterday was P's and my second anniversary. And we got a special anniversary present. Yes, it finally happened, after all of my (unnecessary) agonizing over it. We're having a baby.
I downloaded a pregnancy app, you know, the ones that compare the size of the baby to various edible items. And yesterday, it said that our baby was the size of a tomato seed.
It doesn't feel real. It's something I've wanted for a while, and now that it's a reality, I don't know how to take it. We're excited, for sure, but at the same time, it hasn't quite sunken in yet. I pray that God will continue to lead us and guide us, as He always has. I've always struggled with trusting Him in various areas of my life. But bringing a new life into the world? That's on a whole other plane. I know that this experience will cause me to rely on Him like I never have before.
Anyway, it's weird because I've had this blog for so long...over ten years, since before I graduated from undergrad. Now here I am, a few degrees, a few moves and a husband later, and it still functions as a creative outlet of sorts. So, dear reader, if you're still here, whether you know me personally or not, you have been with me through a lot. So, although I don't want to release this info to the general public yet, I don't feel like I'm releasing it to the general public by writing about it on my blog.
Yesterday was P's and my second anniversary. And we got a special anniversary present. Yes, it finally happened, after all of my (unnecessary) agonizing over it. We're having a baby.
I downloaded a pregnancy app, you know, the ones that compare the size of the baby to various edible items. And yesterday, it said that our baby was the size of a tomato seed.
It doesn't feel real. It's something I've wanted for a while, and now that it's a reality, I don't know how to take it. We're excited, for sure, but at the same time, it hasn't quite sunken in yet. I pray that God will continue to lead us and guide us, as He always has. I've always struggled with trusting Him in various areas of my life. But bringing a new life into the world? That's on a whole other plane. I know that this experience will cause me to rely on Him like I never have before.
Tuesday, May 02, 2017
Sun Day
Come on and praise the Lord / While you have the chance
I woke up this morning bathed in sunlight. It's getting lighter earlier. I woke up wanting to take hold of this sunlit morning. I got out of bed and showered in the natural light which filtered in through the blinds in the bathroom. And then I made breakfast. Four strips of crisp bacon (2 for him, 2 for me), scrambled eggs with cheese, two pieces of toast (1 for him, 1 for me). He made coffee. Why are you making breakfast? Because I want to. Don't you have to leave soon? Yeah, but I have time. I had time this morning. I took time this morning. I ate bacon and eggs and toast and sipped coffee and watched a happy, appreciative husband eat a rare weekday hot breakfast before his Tuesday/Thursday commute. They're usually reserved for weekends.
I had to take time this morning. I woke up wanting to take hold of this sun day.
I woke up this morning bathed in sunlight. It's getting lighter earlier. I woke up wanting to take hold of this sunlit morning. I got out of bed and showered in the natural light which filtered in through the blinds in the bathroom. And then I made breakfast. Four strips of crisp bacon (2 for him, 2 for me), scrambled eggs with cheese, two pieces of toast (1 for him, 1 for me). He made coffee. Why are you making breakfast? Because I want to. Don't you have to leave soon? Yeah, but I have time. I had time this morning. I took time this morning. I ate bacon and eggs and toast and sipped coffee and watched a happy, appreciative husband eat a rare weekday hot breakfast before his Tuesday/Thursday commute. They're usually reserved for weekends.
I had to take time this morning. I woke up wanting to take hold of this sun day.
Sunday, April 23, 2017
"I always feel like I have to hold back a part of myself."
The First Elegy
Ranier Maria Rilke
Who, if I cried, would hear me among the angelic
orders? And even if one of them suddenly
pressed me to his heart, I would vanish in the strength of his
greater existence. For Beauty is only
the first touch of Terror we are still able to bear,
and why we adore it so is because it serenely
disdains to destroy us. Every single angel is terrible.
And so I restrain myself, and choke back
my own dark birdcall. Alas, who can we turn to
in this need? Not angels, nor men
and even the cunning animals know at once
that we are not especially at home
in our interpreted world. There remains, perhaps,
some tree on a slope, to be looked at day after day,
yesterday's walk, and the perverse loyalty
of some habit that pleased us and moved in for good.
Oh the night, the night when the wind full of outer space
gnaws at our faces: for whom would she not remain,
longed for, mild disenchantress, waiting painfully
for the lonely heart? Is she lighter for lovers?
Alas, with each other they only hide their fate!
You still don't understand? – Fling armfuls of emptiness
out to the spaces we breathe – maybe the birds
will feel the expanded air in more fervent flight.
Voices, voices. Listen, my heart, as only
saints once listened until the enormous call
lifted them right off the ground; but they, impossible ones,
went on kneeling and paid no attention:
such was their listening. Not that God's is a voice
you could bear, oh no! But the breath like a breeze, listen to that,
the endless report that grows out of silence,
rustling toward you from those who died young.
out to the spaces we breathe – maybe the birds
will feel the expanded air in more fervent flight.
Voices, voices. Listen, my heart, as only
saints once listened until the enormous call
lifted them right off the ground; but they, impossible ones,
went on kneeling and paid no attention:
such was their listening. Not that God's is a voice
you could bear, oh no! But the breath like a breeze, listen to that,
the endless report that grows out of silence,
rustling toward you from those who died young.
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