Three stories

New York: I have just come back from a difficult yoga class. I am hot and sweaty and every muscle aches. On my way home I drink a fresh vegetable juice. I shower and put on perfume and some tight pair of jeans (my legs are skinny) and a pretty top. Freshly showered I go meet my boyfriend for some good quality sushi and sake. I drink the sake and it goes to my head a little and I smell my perfume and the taste of alcohol. I feel good and strong and attractive.

Tel Aviv: I sit on the couch with my pregnant belly getting so big that I am beginning to waddle (only just). I am a little sick as I ate too much for breakfast (yet again) and my stomach muscles are aching around the top of my belly. My head is like cotton wool. I am watching "Dr Phil".

New Aviv: I come home after yoga, with a fresh vegetable juice in hand. I am strong again. I fit into all my old clothes. It is a warm day and there is a spring in my step. I open the door and my boyfriend is waiting there with our son. We leave for a a swim and a surf (my boyfriend and I take turns watching the baby while we surf).

Projection

Last night I went with my boyfriend to some family friends of his. We sat around a table and three children under five were making a lot of noise. It was deafening. Besides a frustrated feeling on my own part of the increasing volume, I started feeling the familiar kicks of the little thing in me. He was banging away in there and I thought, oh, the noise must be too much for him also!

On the way home in the car I had a moment of talking to the little thing, i.e., "Don't worry honey the noise is gone now. That was too much for you hey?" To which my boyfriend responded, don't project! I defended myself, no, no, he really started kicking when the noise of the kids started. My boyfriend then said to me that I had no idea why the baby was kicking, or why it was different to him kicking like normal (as he always does when I am sitting), and we shouldn't go down the path projecting our own feelings (i.e, the noise was too loud for me), onto our child. I nodded in agreement. And then internally registered that comment on a deeper level. He was right. It is a slippery slope. I want this child to be unencumbered by my "stuff".

Wise boyfriend.

Sushi encounter

Last night my boyfriend and I went to an "all-you-can-eat" sushi (a pregnant woman's dream minus the fact I can't eat raw fish). The place was a bar and we sat around the counter and I endured the "vegetarian" sushi coming my way. At some point a pretty blond girl came and sat next to us and I quickly realized she was an English speaker. Another beer later (for my boyfriend), she started talking to me and asked where I was from etc etc. She was English and not Jewish, however decided to come to Israel as she "just loves it here". In any event, she told us she was a nanny and then offered her services to us as she mimed patting my belly.

It was strange.

All my life I was that girl. Especially when traveling, I would gain employment as a babysitter and as a nanny all my life (once a live-in nanny in San Francisco). Now, someone was offering their services to me! It was a turning point in my life. And not all good. Instantly I felt old. Oh, I am a mother now and this girl/woman sees me as a "mother" (well, mother-to-be). It was just so surreal and confronting. Why couldn't I embrace this?

As we were walking home I told my boyfriend about my reaction and he was like, well, you are older than her and you are a mother in a minute. It was truly a moment of confrontation and acceptance for me. Am I really one of those women I used to work for? I will engage someone at some stage (I hope), to help me look after my boy. She will walk in full of her own life and hope for the future and form some kind of sweet relationship with my son. I will be half apologetic (guilty for leaving) and concerned but grateful she will be there.

How things change.

Life is full of surprises.

Too much to read

Like everything else, the apprehension of an event is very different from the reality of an event. While I find myself worrying about different questions, most mothers have been there and done that and tell me that I will figure it out. Lately, I have been worried about breast feeding. I have witnessed many women breast feed and have seen many women wince as the baby first attaches to the breast. Eventually it all seems rote, but I do remember the beginnings. And, like everything in pregnancy, what seems like it should be "natural" does not seem to be such a natural process.

I read this book the other day called "The Baby Whisperer", which discusses getting a baby onto a schedule as soon as possible. It talks about how to breast feed and when to breast feed. Then I read another book, "Baby Love" (which is generally fantastic), and it muddies this process by saying "whatever works". The thing is, before I started reading I wasn't so confused, however reading different books has left me with a sense of unease. Am I up to this?

I have convinced my boyfriend that I am pretty confident with babies. That, more or less, is true. However, I do not feel confident with the initial six weeks. I am scared of the sleep deprivation and of the confusion of breast feeding/sleep patterns etc etc. And, I am also scared of how overwhelmingly demanding it will all be.

I think I am going to stop reading for now and let my intuition take the reigns. In this day of saturation of information there is no end to the multitude of differing views. I need to trust myself.

Trust. Faith.

Blurred profiles

Sometimes, I think this is all a dream. I float past a mirror hoping to see the "old me" and am shocked at the swollen profile that confronts me. How often in life does our body mutate (or should I say, transform), in front of us? We take images of pregnancy for granted, however when it is happening it is a dynamic force. There is nothing I can do to stop the process unraveling. Whether I like it or not, this baby is growing inside me. I am pregnant.

It still feels weird to say. All my life I wanted to be pregnant. I would place my hands on a pregnant woman's belly and feel its hard girth and be so envious of the sheer life force taking place. It seemed so amazing to me. And then, children. All my life I have looked after the children of other people. I have changed countless diapers. Sang soft lullabies to get them to sleep. Rocked them to sleep. Played endlessly with blocks and make believe stories. It was a big part of my life. I even lived with a newborn, helping the mother by walking the baby up and down the hallway in the middle of the night.

Now, all these images (nostalgia), integral to one part of my self identity, have floated away (as I float past the mirror). Instead I am somehow bogged down with the weight of gravity (gravitas). The weight of reality. Did I ever live in reality? Did I ever quite conceive of the true ramifications of having a child? Despite all my "experience" with children, I never really and truly lived it.

Now I will.

So, this time is a confronting one on many levels. Not only do I experience the abject corporeal heaviness of my growing belly, but the ongoing recognition that my life is less muted now but colored with what is, not what if.

It's a strange new frontier. I don't feel as confident as I should be.

Maybe that's a good place to start.

Dimensions

So. 25 weeks. More than half way there. It feels like forever...

Last week we had a 3D scan taken of the little thing. It was weird. They gave us a DVD and you can see him yawning and stretching his mouth and the doctor said he had his hand around the umbilical cord. It was odd. He didn't look so pretty. He kind of looked strange. He looked a little like my boyfriend (who does not look strange), but otherwise alien. Not alien in the sense that he was not human, but alien in the sense that he didn't look connected to me in any way. I had always assumed that somehow he would look like me. Or at least be an even facsimile of both my and my boyfriend's features. However looking at him in there, he looked like someone I had never seen before. Yes, I probably sound a little naive in this case. I know he is his own person. Yet, the images seem wrong somehow. Like we are not supposed to see babies inside the womb. It is unnatural.

In any event, the later surprise was twofold. Firstly, I swear, that baby is well-endowed (my boyfriend was proud to see). It was quite a shock seeing the scan and I had to ask my boyfriend if he thought it was possible a fetus could have an erection in the womb?! So unequivocally MALE. The second surprise was that apparently my baby measures two weeks larger than his due date. Which means a a few things potentially however all it initially meant was that I burst into tears in a panic.

After we calmed down we realized (after talking to our doctor), that measuring two weeks larger does not have to mean much at this stage and it does not mean I will have a big baby or he will come early (or it could mean both). However, right now there is no need for any alarm and he could even out and in any event, the measuring technology is imprecise.

It's all so tenuous this process. Now, I am worrying as I seem to feel faint and light headed after I eat. Medical results say nothing is wrong, but it feels wrong to me...

In the hands of fate...

Swollen watermelon

Well, it's official. I have put on way too much weight. Notwithstanding any condition (like gestational diabetes), I only have myself to blame. When I arrived in Israel I ate like I had never ate before. Ever. Hamburgers, pizza, falafel, white bread etc etc. And now I am paying the consequences. From a previously active life of yoga two to three times a week and mostly raw/vegan food, to eating complete and utter crap. Now my eating is back to "normal" generally, but it is too late. I am fat.

Fat.

Fat.

And people are commenting now. It's funny, I remember seeing a pregnant friend once and thinking, oh wow, she has put on weight! And, now I will be one of those women that people think that about. They will greet me and say hi and I will see their eyes kind of bulge a little at my huge size! I feel like a swollen watermelon on steroids. It's the worst.

And every time I get weighed, it seems to go higher. This is not good. I am eating only good and healthy food now and cutting back substantially on portion size etc. I am going to yoga (well, prenatal which is as gentle as almost doing nothing), and walking a lot. But whatever I do I just keep growing and growing and growing...

Fat.

FAT.FAT.FAT.FAT.

And every body tells me that I will lose it after the birth and of course I will lose some! But, losing weight is difficult, especially at my geriatric age.

This baby better be cute...

Musings

Not that I am saying anything new, but the more I investigate where and how I want to give birth, the more conflicting views I encounter. It seems there is a very dramatic divide between those who believe in natural childbirth and those who believe in intervention and hospital procedures. It is hard for me to talk about it in the abstract of course, never having been through the process. However, I can speak to my experience thus far of being pregnant. And in this regard, I can say that the medical profession has been relatively dehumanizing in its treatment of me. No surprise I guess as generally the medical profession isn't known for is humanity (ironically).

When reading various books about birth and the experience of women giving birth there is not a lot which speaks to the emotional ramifications of what is going on and that is perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this new world for me. I assume, back in the day, when women were giving birth in caves that nobody tried to psychoanalyze what these women were going through. Yet at the same time, these women (from what I know), had strong female communities giving these women emotional support and wisdom. Now, we go into a bright hospital and have to lie on a bed (totally unnatural for birthing) and take drugs to make our legs numb in order not to feel the pain. It just doesn't feel right. But there is much to be said, on the other hand, for evolution. Where does the truth lie?

The "truth", as far as I can understand it, is that if we believe we will experience pain we will. I have heard many women say to me, how can such a big thing come out of such a little place (I have said this myself). Lately though, I am thinking, it isn't such a small place when giving birth. It expands. One's body accommodates. That is how it all works. There is a method to the madness. Our bodies are supposed to do this. Just as something going in can feel pleasurable or painful, depending on our mental state, I am presuming, something going out can feel similarly. At least to a degree...

I am mumbling. The thing is, I am starting to feel passionate about womens' care and birthing. I understand that I may have every intervention there is. Perhaps I will have to get a c-section? Perhaps I will yell for an epidural within five minutes of labor? I hope I don't, but I am open. I will not look at it as a failure. The thing is, I would like to have every choice available to me in this process. And, I would like the time and the encouragement to be whoever I am as a pregnant woman.

No man can ever know what this feels like. Women know, but so many shut themselves down. Like there is no accessible language to articulate their feelings so they block themselves. Live in denial. And so, I may be labeled neurotic for deciding to go INTO this experience rather than out. But let's face it. This is it. This is where we begin in this world. We are birthed. And we give birth. I am in for the ride, even as uncomfortable as this whole thing is.

And it is uncomfortable...

Insured finally

So, I now have health insurance in Israel. This means I can panic legitimately as I can go to the doctor/hospital any moment I am paranoid.

I have a doctor's appointment in a couple of days with an American doctor and I am really looking forward to making sure all is OK. It has been awhile since the little thing has been checked out and I am nervous. I can't imagine what it must have been like for women my mother's generation who didn't have any of these tests.

My latest ailments? Still sick (although with more energy) and now swollen fingers so I can't wear my rings. It's all so so glamorous.

In other news, I started prenatal yoga. It was fantastic. All of a sudden being surrounded by fifteen other pregnant women of all shapes and sizes. We all looked so thoroughly exhausted. All kept getting up to pee at different intervals. I felt like I was "home" in so many ways.

The little Falafel is moving about non-stop these days but I have figured out that if I avoid eating too much before bed (and definitely not anything too sweet), then he will not move as much!

*sigh*