Still Pregnant!

We found out about a month ago that we are having another girl. We were shocked that we hadn’t finally landed a boy this time and it took us a day or two to accept it. It’s not that we were upset that we were having another girl, it’s that there was no reaction when the tech said, “It’s a baby girl.” It was like, “Okay, carry on with your measurements.” It sounds horrible, I know. Only because when I think about the reaction we would have had if she had said, “It’s a boy,” it supersedes the non-reaction that was actually had. We’re over it and moving on to picking out names and some more (pink) baby bedding.

I am currently 22 weeks along. Bending over has slowly become a challenge and is now accompanied with an assortment of grunts, oohs and ahs, followed by heavy breathing and the need for a short rest. Kyle will need to start assisting in putting socks and shoes on me sooner than later. Other than that I can’t complain. Aside from some minor heartburn (hairy baby??), I haven’t had any other real discomforts yet. My back is holding out for the most part, the heavy and frequent urinating hasn’t begun yet and I’m still able to sleep fairly well. I guess this is the “babymoon” phase. My reaction skills are enhanced and verging on ninja level. When something starts to fall I’m uncharacteristically able to catch it before it hits the ground and in a fashion that seems nonchalant, not just clumsily lucky.

The baby is also ninja-like in that it never stops kicking, moving, rolling, doing roundhouses… A majority of her kicks are landing low, like in my vagina and it’s…unpleasant. If you watch me long enough, you can see me flinching in reaction to a well-placed kick of hers to my nether regions. I’m waiting for her foot to just come flying out one day – and then what I do?? It’s evident that she is also hoarding all of the folic acid from my vitamins has my hair and nails have done nothing but become more brittle than they were before, if that’s even possible. The kid will come out with the most luscious mane and freakishly long nails ever. She’ll look like that weird guy with the curly cue nails in the Guinness Book of World Records. This will be my reminder to bring infant nail clippers with me to the hospital.

I am also quickly realizing that I have few winter-appropriate maternity clothes. My previous pregnancies were timed such that my “large months” fell during warmer weather whereas this pregnancy is the opposite. This means, pause while I gag, maternity jeans. I have one pair that I hate and refuse to wear and I can’t bear the thought of purchasing another pair. The thought makes me want to set myself on fire. So right now I’m still either wearing in-between jeans which are just a larger than normal size that I usually set aside for post C-section wear or I’m stuffing myself into my normal jeans and leaving them undone and just securing with an elastic band around the button. This works only if you have a shirt long enough to cover the undone zipper. Otherwise, the public gets a flash of undy, C-section scar and potential pube. So you have to be careful with this method.

I still have a lot going on in my life that remains in the forefront for now. My hope is over the next couple of months, things will even out, I’ll be larger and as a result, the pregnancy will merge into a priority. Then excitement, preparation and nesting will begin. Until then, I have a weekly reminder on my phone that lets me know how far along I am. 

Backseat Baby

Sadly this pregnancy has taken a backseat to everything else going on in my life right now and I feel horrible for it. An avalanche of family health problems and life in general has resulted in me taking on extra responsibilities (and worry) and tasks that make this pregnancy seem like an afterthought. Before I know it, this baby will be here and I will have had zero excitement and anticipation leading up to its birth. One day, life – next day, new baby. “Oh, hello, where’d you come from? I’ve been carrying you around for 9 months? Hm, had no idea.” I hate it. I want to be excited. I want to plan for its arrival and dream about what s/he will look like, but I can’t. As soon as I try to more pressing matters appear and baby thoughts are lost amongst the other things I used to like to think about but no longer do, like imaginary vacations and how to decorate for fall this year. If I could make everything else go away I would just so this baby could feel special instead of like a minor detail.

I knocked the picture of our first ultrasound over today and couldn’t bother to pick it up until hours later. We usually have names and room décor picked out by now but all the spare minutes used for that have been swallowed up by stress and worry and phone calls to useless people.

My hope is that everything goes away so I can concentrate on happier things but that is unlikely. Considering the circumstances, the bad will probably be sticking around for a while. I pray for the day this pregnancy takes a big, fat front row seat and baby says, “Hey, pay attention to me! I’m a priority!” Then maybe everything else will pale in comparison and I won’t feel obligated to worry about the rest of the world, as selfish as it seems. 

Music Filled the Air That Night

In the wake of finding out my uncle is dying of terminal brain and lung cancer, I realize this will be the first time in my mature, adult life that someone close to me will be leaving this realm and entering the beyond. I have feared this for a while now, knowing it would happen, just not when. Over the years I’ve been feeling sorry for other families while they deal with the deaths of loved ones and in the back of my mind, there’s this nagging, when will it be my turn to feel this way? The last time an immediate family member passed away I was a freshman in college (my other uncle). I remember being sad but distracted with my coming of age, college, independence and drinking. Death was kind of this surreal thing and its impact just didn’t sink in. It was like I was on the peripheral. In fact, my first uncle’s death affects and hurts me more now upon reflecting on it than it did when it happened. I guess that comes with age.

So now, this is all much more valid and poignant. Shit got real basically and…uh…it really fucking hurts. I’m scared and confused and I don’t understand the why. Furthermore I don’t understand why Death makes us feel this way when it is inevitable to all of us and happens every day. I guess because it is the ultimate End. In death, words like Never, Last, and Forever are used. I’ll never see him again. This is the last time I’ll see him. He is gone forever. It is finality to the greatest extent. And not knowing what comes after death just perpetuates the fear. As long as there is time and life, then there is hope. When it ends, when it ends, the hope is replaced with grief and mourning. Hope is swallowed up by the Never and Last.  Hope is gone, Forever.

Today I call my aunt to tell her that her brother is dying. I don’t know how you tell a person that. I’m going to need to clarify that it is Brother John and not some arbitrary John. Remember the timeline, ER on Sunday, diagnosis Monday, going home today. No treatment, 6-8 weeks, his kids don’t know yet. It’s outlined in my head but I feel like when I say it out loud, it will become a jumbled, incoherent mess, like in the movies. “John’s kids went to the ER 6-8 weeks ago and they’ll come home Monday.” Do I tell her about the tumors? I should tell her about the tumors. I’m nervous, scared and praying for strength. Dear God just let me get it out in one sentence. Don’t let me ramble and rumble, for both our sakes. I just need one, articulate sentence.

So here it is, my turn. My family and I are now the subjects of others’ “thoughts and prayers.”  Uncle John will soon be gone. We’ll have pictures to remember him by, the memory of him carving the Thanksgiving turkey and always being chosen as the Grace-sayer during family dinners. I imagine him and my Uncle Geege pulling each other’s fingers at the Pearly Gates. Pickled deer heart will never taste the same. There’s that damn word, never.