Congratulations! Did you fart?
Mr. Forty posted a few days ago about the raft of shit I’ve been getting lately for being pregnant. At the time of his post I was filled with an overwhelming sense of “Hell yes!” and “That’s my huzband right there and I’m a lucky woman!” I didn’t have anything really significant to add. I mentioned in my last post that I found myself at a business dinner with nothing more to contribute to the conversations than my pregnancy. Not that I didn’t try to talk about other things, it’s just those things morphed into “Well that will change,” or “You’ll feel differently in a few months,” or “Interesting strategic insight… so are you going to breastfeed?” This has been a pretty common theme in the 6 weeks since I’ve been out of the closet. It’s very strange. I don’t happen to be one of those women who subscribe to the societal belief that pregnancy is some form of magic. It’s biology. I had a lot of sex and it had the biological effect it was supposed to have in my lady parts. In fact, I always feel slightly uncomfortable when people say, “Congratulations!” As I often interpret this to mean, “Way to go on the fucking!” Depending on who is telling me congratulations, my perceived subtext can range from creepy to downright horrifying. Also, “Congratulations!” is a tough one from a societal point of view. I guess I am worthy of a “Congratulations!” because I (for a change) followed society’s rules: 1. I am married. Happily married in fact. (Although I’m sure from the outside there are those that worry that Mr. Forty and I didn’t wait very long – we were married in April of 2013). 2. I am older. This is a tough one from society’s standpoint – get knocked up too young, you’re an After School Special. You’ll only get “Congratulations!” from other WIC and SNAP recipients and an MTV producer. Get knocked up young, you’re wasting your college experience and earning potential. Get knocked up youngish, and people will assume you’re planning to have a whole gaggle of children (oh my poor friends who had one child at 30 and are berated for “not having more”). Get knocked up old and there are a couple different kinds of “Congratulations!” in play – namely that you managed it in the first place and that you got their expectations for you in under the wire. 3. My career is happily in a place and I could be where I am for a very long time and be okay. I can afford this child. I’m more or less done climbing for now. I have the title I wanted, the salary I desired, the team I hoped to build, and the environment where I can make a difference. I’m good. The next level of promotion for me would be one I would have to think about long and hard. I’m not sure I want it right now. That’s a perfect time to have a baby from my point of view. Looking at all of that, I get a hearty “Congratulations!” from society. Which is totally unfair to all the other women who have children under different circumstances. But life isn’t fair. Teaching Critter that will be one of the hardest lessons I will have to manage. Unless of course he is a mutant and goes Republican or Libertarian on us and names his stuffed animal John Gault....
One more thing…
So I haven’t posted jack-my-mamma-crap on this blog. I’m a terrible baby house. I was all excited about having a place to share my thoughts through this experience and what I have found is that this experience has left me with monosyllabic responses to most things… “Ms. Forty, how are you feeling?” “Uh, good?” “Ms. Forty, have you picked out a name?” “Uh, we call it baby.” “Ms. Forty, you look tired.” “Uh, fuck you.” “Ms. Forty, you fell asleep on the couch again, would you like to go to our bed?” “Uh, bats are in the tub and I have no checks.” (It’s best not to wake me up and expect anything logical to ensue). Still with the tired, made more tired by a month that would make an Olympic athlete tired, I look back and realize I’ve been all over the place (literally). Critter flew more this month than I did in my first three years. He even went to Panama this month – which I will get to in a moment and I’m sure this post will never be reposted by the Panamanian Tourism Authority, not that I really care. Work has been overwhelming. Suddenly, for the first time in my life, I’m too exhausted most of the time to get excited about what I’m doing. Which is a shame, because on paper, my job has utterly kicked ass this month. I’ve traveled abroad, I’ve met interesting people, I’ve launched huge initiatives, I’ve taken naps under my desk… Everybody keeps telling me that I’ll get more energy now that I’m in my second trimester. I’m rocking week 16 and this avocado inside me is not producing any energy. I hate to say it, but I still would smack a bitch for a nap. Which makes me sound terribly redundant, which is probably why I’m not posting much. I mean for fuck’s sake, one can only read about tired pregnant lady for so long… So here are some things that have happened that have nothing to do with being tired: During my trip to Panama, the Mayor of our town came with us. He was pleased when I told him I was personally making more Democrats for our voter base. That was a nice moment. Several times I realized I was the only one who was aware what was going on at work this month and the fact that I was also making life officially made me a superhero. Panama is a country I never wish to visit again under any circumstances and maybe it’s because I was pregnant but seriously, I’m over that place. They do have a kick ass ceviche. I’m probably not supposed to eat ceviche, but you know what, I’m also probably not supposed to spend days dealing with uncooperative Panamanians who don’t do anything they say they’re going to do either. During dinner one night I realized my only status at the table was that I was pregnant. This was confusing and disheartening as I am used to contributing significant insight and observations in my industry. Now I have been reduced to, “When are you going to have another one?” That is a really horrible question on so many levels, I have no idea where to begin. But you entertain all sorts of horrible questions when you’re pregnant and you endure people (even people you like) touching you, so you know, you roll with it. Turns out, when you tell a table...
On the birth of a baby: the Christmas post...
First, the merriest of merry Christmases to all who celebrate! That Jesus, he was a groovy dude who preached love and peace. It’s a message we could use more of. I don’t have a whole lot to say tonight. A year from now, we’ll have our own baby bundle. I suppose he won’t be doing much at 6 months old. Drooling a bit. Pooping himself. Generally useless. So here’s my Christmas wish: let’s all try to make a world in which all our babies know peace and love. That’s it. It’s not an easy wish to squeeze down a chimney, but it’s an easy wish to squeeze out an open heart. And, to my unborn son, please, oh please, give me uninterrupted sleep for Christmas in...
I should know
I’ve been seeing something a lot recently. Ms will say something – for example, a sternly-worded rejection of an idiotic YouTube video that’s been going around involving white people rapping badly in pajamas (I won’t link to it, because … Jesus, no) – and someone will respond that she’s only saying that because she’s pregnant. It’s not always quite that direct, but the conclusion is inescapable. Let me see if I can pick through this. I’ve known my wife for 20+ years. I’ve heard her moods, seen her triggers, listened to what makes her angry, and the Ms I grew up with and married is the Ms who is nuzzled up to her pillows in the bedroom right now. Her essential character hasn’t changed, her reactions to things (largely) haven’t changed, her sense of humor is the same. Everything about her is the same as I’ve always known, with a very few exceptions. She has, on maybe two or three occasions in my presence, had an emotional reaction to a stimulus that I would not have otherwise expected (think tears when a feelgood news story comes on, or something along those lines). She has identified rapidly changing hormones as the cause, but I should really be clearer on the point: she hasn’t done anything out of character or weird, just not the response I was expecting. All well within Ms’ established range of responses to stimuli – enough so that it’s difficult for me to think of specific examples here, just remembering my own mild surprise. On another two or three occasions, Ms has spoken to me more sternly than I would have expected because I needed to be doing more. I’m perfectly ok with that. I mean, we’re doing this in sort of pro mode: we’re still learning our way around each other as cohabitators, and now Ms is going through substantial physical changes that leave her quick to tire, so I’m having to make my own adjustments. Sometimes I miss the mark. I feel bad about it, because I want to do everything I can to make this process as easy for Ms as possible without treating her like an invalid, but it’s nothing that’s caused me to feel wronged or unjustly accused or any nonsense like that. My pregnant wife needs me to do more sometimes, I’m trying, and sometimes I don’t do enough. Maybe Ms will chime in about this, but I don’t feel like it’s an epidemic of failure or anything, heh, but I do feel like it’s justified and gentle correction during a time when both of us are going through behavior adaptations. It’s also worth pointing out that, as with the first example, I can’t really think of a specific occurrence because nothing wedged in my memory out of either shock or anger. After considering it for maybe one one hundredth of a second, my reaction was “Oh, ok, right, of course.” My pregnant wife is essentially the same person my non-pregnant wife was. Full stop. There are differences, but they’re subtle. The best example is one I told her about this weekend. Ms goes to sleep earlier than I do (I mean, my current insomnia troubles notwithstanding, I’m a night owl by nature, and Ms is not). Before she became pregnant, she’d come home and gradually wind down, almost imperceptibly cleansing herself of the day’s stresses before falling asleep on the couch. Now she’s much more consistently awake until the light suddenly goes...