Fugitive from The Garden State

I always thought there might be something romantic about being a fugitive. But as with many things in my life, I did not know I was actually something until after it occurred.

Scene One: The Watertown, MA Registry of Motor Vehicles

I enter the mall (by the way, who puts a RMV in the mall?) around 9:40 a.m. intending to update my license with my not-so-new last name. I read the hours on the website wrong and the RMV doesn't actually open until 10. The line is already out the door, and I end up behind a guy who is bitching non-stop about having to wait and how the RMV takes too long and blah, blah, blah, his tax dollars at work. Around this time, I realize that I forgot both my book and my magazine so I either have to go zen or actually engage with this idiot. I turn inward and start counting the ceiling tiles, and then playing with my Blackberry. I actually work and send a few emails. Twenty minutes pass, the gate goes up, and the line starts moving. Twenty five minutes later, and I'm handed my paperwork to fill out.

The place is ridiculously crowded and I pace the aisles hoping that somebody will give the pregnant lady a seat. Nobody makes eye contact. A seat opens up, and a teenage boy and I both lunge for it. He plops down, but his mother comes by, whacks him and makes him get up. I journal a little about the crazy in my head, get bored, and engage in a few rigorous rounds of Brickbreaker. My number, B235, gets called.

The kid processing me is a newbie. It's his first day of work, and he's making a lot of mistakes. He also doesn't quite get the difference between my original last name and my new pretentious, hyphenated last name. We go back and forth multiple times, but I finally hand over my Social Security Card and just tell him to copy it. I should be annoyed, but he's a sweet kid. I say I didn't want a new picture because of how "fat" I was now, and he goes out of his way to tell me how cute I am and how I don't look different at all from the neck up. He takes the card and my license and puts the license in a "to be destroyed" pile.

We're almost finished and the kid says, "Um, I'm sorry, but I can't update your MA license because of your, um,....'trouble' in NJ." I ask what trouble. He tells me the 'trouble' from May 2007. I tell him that I have lived in Mass since June 2006 and ask him to double check the social security number. He calls a supervisor. She checks and tells me that I have an outstanding conviction and possibly an outstanding warrant for my arrest in NJ. What for? They can't tell. They feel bad for me because I am horrendously pregnant and sweaty, so they say they'll call, but the number for the NJ DMV has a 45 minute wait. They apologize and tell me they can't wait that long, and that if I get it resolved, they'll be more than happy to process my license change.

I don't freak out. I just ask for my license back, so that I can drive home. "Um, well, in situations like this, we're actually supposed to keep your license." And, the kid adds, "I think I'm supposed to report you to the police." Again, I do not freak out. I tell them that my due date is Tuesday and that I'm probably not a flight risk and that I have never even gotten a speeding ticket in my life, and could they please help me out because I am about to have a baby and I need some photo ID for the hospital and need to be able to drive? They agree. When they turn around to find my license in "to be destroyed pile," they realize that the licenses have been moved, presumably to the place where they are to be destroyed. The kid runs into another room, and after several moments of more ceiling-tile counting and avoiding pitying stares from strangers, he comes back. "Got it!" He hands it over, and everyone tells me to have a good day and to come back when I have my 'trouble' taken care of. I am convinced that they're only being this nice to me because I am quite literally waddling.

Scene Two: Comfort Feeding

I go into the convenience store next door, buy a king size Hershey bar and a package of Parmesan goldfish, and eat them all in the 10 minute drive back home. YG is on a conference call and gives me the thumbs up. I motion BIG thumbs down.

Scene Three: Please Wait for The Next Available Representative

I call the NJ DMV. I'm on hold for 42 minutes. There is muzak interrupted every few minutes by a voice recording telling me that they are very sorry for the wait and I will be handled by the next available representative. This bothers me more than actually holding. Many loud sighs follow.

I get through to a woman that tells me that yes, I have a warrant out for my arrest in NJ because I never told my insurance company that I moved out of state (I just let the policy lapse when I got a new one up here) and I never turned in my old plates. She says that they sent me notifications 5 times, but they were returned to sender. I asked where they sent them. To my old NJ address, of course. She then tells me that I'll have to talk to the uninsured motorists division, but that I'll probably have to pay a fine of several hundred dollars to rectify this. She, is, to put it mildly, unfriendly. I am reminded that I sometimes DON'T miss home.

I wait on hold again for 25 minutes to talk to the uninsured motorists division. I have a conference call for work that I need to be on and try to figure out a way to explain what I'm doing instead. I send a short email. I wonder if my coworkers think that I am either prone to general unluckiness or just a big exaggerator. I put this latest story in the context of other ridiculous events that have kept me from work and think it's the latter. There was: The Time I Locked Myself Out of The House With Everything Inside, The Time I Had An Allergic Reaction to My Own Skin And Had to Spend A Week Slathered In A Vaseline-like Substance, The Time I Sprained My Chest Wall and Couldn't Get Out of Bed, and so on. I wonder how I still have a job.

I finally get through to a woman named Lisa Ann who is gruff, but tells me exactly what I need to do. I miss home. Basically, I have to fax in proof that I registered the car elsewhere prior to May 2007, along with current license and registration, to waive the fine and remove the warrant. I am a pack rack, so my registration from December 2006 is quickly located in the black hole of junk otherwise known as my glove compartment. I have 40 minutes before my rescheduled conference call to get up to the business center at Staples to print out my intention to destroy my NJ plates, make copies of the registration and fax it all to Lisa Ann.

Scene Four: Which of Dante's Layers Is This?

I waddle as quickly as I can, and am confronted by a line much like the DMV. It must be Senior Citizens' Day at Staples, because a number of Biblical-era aged folks are milling around waiting to make copies and scanning old photographs. Nobody knows how to use any of the "self-service" machines. My zen from earlier is starting to wane, and I roll my eyes and sigh. A lot. I feel bad, but can't help myself. I finally get access to a copier. Out of paper. I wait again. I wait for the one employee to print out the letter saved on my USB stick, but he has to help a man printing out fliers, and all shades of yellow paper are not sufficiently yellow enough. Finally, I am ready to fax. Another line. Busy signals. General annoyance.

Finally, it is over. I have five minutes to get home and get on the phone. I race out of there, and am turning the key in the ignition when I realize that I left my current license and registration on the copy machine. More waddling, and then finally I am home, and on the phone, trying to explain my lawless state.

Scene Five: Redemption

Lisa Ann calls an hour later to tell me that I am cleared and that everything will be dropped from my record. I thank her profusely. I sit and think of all the times that I could have been carted off to jail in the past two years -- all the times that I ran the red light on Fairchild, all the times I sped on the Parkway, all the times I parked illegally, all the times I forgot my EZPass and went through the lane anyway. I wonder how I managed to stay so hidden. I am a relatively easy person to find.

I finally get around to laughing about it. Then I remember that I still need to go back to the RMV.

Fuck California

Yep, the sanctity of my holy union was definitely at risk while all those crazy mo's were out there getting married. YG and I were totally terrorized.

Feministing lead me to this link. While I'm angry, I did like the response from a local Gay and Lesbian Community Center:

"Today, our Supreme Court sent a mixed and troubling message. While upholding the legal marriages of the 18,000 same-sex couples who married in California, the ruling establishes that all Californians are NOT entitled to equal protection of the law. This is a sad day for our state and a setback for the cause of freedom and fairness.

But it's also important to keep this in perspective. Every noble struggle known to man or woman has been filled with losses--temporary defeats that people had to endure and overcome. We must pick ourselves up and move forward, knowing that justice ultimately will prevail and the right to marry will one day be ours forever.

Fortunately, this loss comes amidst a veritable tide of progress in many other state supreme courts and legislatures--a tide that cannot be turned back, no matter today's decision. Not only are courts and legislatures recognizing that it's wrong to discriminate against any group of people by denying them the fundamental freedom to marry the one they love, but now even a majority of Americans agree. Most people in the nation now believe that same-sex couples should be treated equally under the law.

That is enormous progress and we e cannot let one election, one court case, one defeat - or even many defeats - stop us. And we must not let such challenges limit our dreams. Those who came before us and who could never imagine our successes did not give up. We owe the same dedication to those who are yet to follow.

Most importantly, we cannot afford to lose sight of the bigger picture. Ours is not a fight simply for the freedom to marry. Ours is a fight for full equality; full equality and nothing less."

I totally want to buy Zygote one of these, take a picture of your average boring white family and send it out to all the bigoted motherfuckers out there.

Memorial Day Recap

Or the official start to my fourth summer in Massachusetts. :-)

Friday
I took the day off -- always a good idea. Around 9 a.m., I hauled myself into Boston in the 90-degree heat for a very special appointment (i.e. leg wax) . Why didn't I take the car? No idea. My commitment to sustainability? Probably not. I just didn't think of it. Note to others: the T sucks ass when you are pregnant and it's that hot out. The T sucks ass even more when you have to ASK people to give you a seat. By the time I arrived, I was sweaty and late and had to change my underwear. Hot. The appointment was uneventful, and I now have fresh, smooth legs which make me happy.

I took the train back (again, why?) and treated myself to some massive chicken tacos from Chipotle and spent the next hour and a half of my day off, sitting on my ass on the couch eating "mexican" and watching What Not to Wear reruns. It was awesome. Really. Then I picked MG up at school and brought her to a doctor's appointment before coming home to a deliciously yummy meal out on the porch, prepared by YG. After dinner, we walked up to JP Licks for ice cream and people watching and the Square was packed and bustling, and summer is officially here.

Saturday
Adventures in Personal Grooming continued on Saturday. I have no idea when this kid is coming, but I'm relatively positive that I won't have time to wipe my ass, never mind get a pedi in the upcoming weeks, so I had my hair cut and colored and then got a pedicure. I decided to walk the 2 miles home from Harvard and two women told me that I looked lovely, and another shouted from across Mass Ave, "I hope that baby has your beautiful hair." I will miss this part of pregnancy -- the random strangers complimenting you on how pretty you are. I think that should be an everyday occurrance.

When YG returned from bringing MG back to her mother's house, we finished off the nursery, putting up the wallpaper border. The ceiling is too high for me to reach, and he's still dizzy a lot of the time, so it was relatively harrowing, but we made it through without bickering -- a feat of greatness, considering I grew up in a house where bickering over shared chores is the norm, with physical violence and full-on shouting matches reserved for larger chores.

We took the T back into the North End for dinner, and ate at Taranta. I had read the reviews in Zagat and on Open Table and they didn't disappoint. We both loaded up on pasta (a lobster and crabmeat ravioli for me, and a sausage and onion dish for him) and chatted with a nice, young couple sitting next to us who were out on a date night away from their two kids at home.

I was hoping to avoid the insomnia again, but that didn't work. I was in my usual spot on the couch from 2-4 a.m., watching a documentary on the early days of AIDS.

Sunday
On Sunday, I woke up late and noticed that I hadn't felt Zygote move in a while. I know that this is fairly normal at this point in pregnancy, but as the doctors instruct you, I drank two big glasses of water and sat on the couch for a while with my hands on my stomach. Nothing. I then tried jiggling the belly around a little bit, poking and prodding spots where I normally feel kicks. Still nothing. I decided I was being paranoid, so we took showers and took the 77 down to Harvard, fully intending to go to church as usual. YG suggested I call the doctor just to be sure.

We were sitting on a bench on Cambridge Common, right outside the church, when the doctor on call called back, asked me a bunch of questions, and then suggested that I come in to the hospital. I hung up the phone and immediately burst into tears. Sobbing tears. Out of nowhere. All throughout this pregnancy, I have definitely felt a bond with Zygote (it's hard not to when you have something growing inside of you), but I've felt removed and disconnected from friends who have talked about loving their in utero babies so much. Love just seemed like an odd choice of words, and then I course, obsess over being a bad mother already. I just think it's hard to love something in the abstract, and I've looked forward to meeting the actual person so that I can love him or her for real. But when the doctor said to come in, my brain went hospital/problem/baby/terror and I went from 0-60 without even being able to process it. YG was great, though. He told me that the crying would not help speed things along, and we hailed a cab and set off for Mount Auburn.

At the hospital, I had to sit through some annoying paperwork and registration, but once I got up to Labor & Delivery, I was put on the monitor and given lots of juice and water to drink. Zygote was in there, just napping, and "looked beautiful," according to the nurse. We had an ultrasound and saw the flexing of tiny hands and the slight movement of tiny feet. Of course, my kid would wait until we were actually in the hospital to start wiggling around, but the staff assured me that we had done the right thing by calling and coming in. Still, I felt silly. I am supposed to be perfect, after all. An hour later, we were discharged and walked back to Harvard Square where I ate away my idiocy in the beer garden at Charlie's. I know it's a Cambridge institution, but we never ate there before, and hell yeah, those are the best burgers in Cambridge. YG had something called a veggie reuben and that was delicious as well.

Back at home, we had some sexy adult time (i.e. napping on the couch while watching bad t.v.) and later went to the park for some exercise, before meeting some friends for dinner down the street. We finally got around to watching Milk, and I cried. Even though you know how it's going to end, it's still heartbreaking. The old footage of the cops rounding up gays gets me every time. And then I slept. Through the night. Horray.

Monday
Woke up late and enjoyed a nutritious breakfast of Cosmic Cocos, Whole Foods' organic version of cocoa puffs. Then we went back to sleep for another hour -- indulgent. Afterwards, we spent two hours planting. I've never really been into gardening, but YG loves it so we picked up a bunch of plants and arranged a border in the garden outside our kitchen, and planted a few other large buckets. It ended up being a lot of fun, and it looks beautiful. I'm hoping to manage it over the summer, and spend some time out there with Z.

We ate lunch (latkes and gazpacho, a match that should go together more often) on the porch, admiring our handy work. Then we drove over to Danehay Park so that I could take a walk, and YG could test his balance on his bike. He did well and was happy, and we sat on the benches and ate peaches while people watching.

And now, we're (by we, I mean YG) prepping for another meal outside and if the weather holds up, another walk up to JP's for ice cream. It may not seem like much. It's probably a boring weekend for many, but I don't know how much more adult time we have left and I have thoroughly enjoyed doing a lot of nothing lounging around in my bathrobe.

Stream of Conscious Musings About How Uncomfortable I Am

It's hot. Very HOT. About 95 degrees yesterday and 90 today. My feet have swollen to unthinkable proportions where even flip flops are causing me to blister and chafe. I'm changing my underwear and bras three times a day because I am sweating so much. I am drinking gallons of water, but still out of breath. All the while, Zygote jumps up and down and wiggles and seems generally unaware that the world is on fucking fire. Maybe it's cool in there.

The Green Line almost killed me today. I had an appointment in Boston, and the walk to the T was brutal. At Park Street, people on their morning commutes jostled about and kept stepping on my feet. I started pushing back. The train was late, and I had to ask someone for a seat -- some fuckface in a suit that acted all put upon. No energy to muster up a "screw you." It moved at a snail's pace and I just felt like I was melting. For a second I wondered if my water broke, but no, just sweat. Ick. Ride back not much better.

Other random thoughts:
* I am too tired to want to do anything.
* I met my second celebrity in Cambridge yesterday. Jennifer Garner at The Gap in Harvard Square. She was very nice and bought her daughter a cute bathing suit.
* I have been keeping this blog for three years now. Three years in Massachusetts. Three years in my new city. Three years in my new job. Lots of changes in few years.
* I cannot formulate complete sentences.
* I cannot believe someone is going to let me take a baby home. I don't know what to do with babies.
* I would like to get some uninterrupted sleep.
* In my interupted sleep, I have been watching "My So Called Life" and remembering high school. I do not know if this is a good or bad thing.
* Nap time. Vacation days are apparently for napping now.

Updates and Projects

This insomnia thing really sucks the bag, man. If I'm not waking up for hours at a time in the middle of the night, I am wide awake at 5:30 a.m. every morning, raring to go. It's so weird. I would have loved this last week or the week before when I was struggling to get to the office on time, but now that I only need to roll over in my pajamas to get to work, it's sort of wasted.

A few updates:
1. No improvement in YG's hearing.
2. At 38 weeks, I am full term, but as of yesterday, the baby isn't going anywhere. I still have "some time."

My nesting projects or things I want to get done before Z comes:
1. Finish Zygote's room. Basically this entails covering the icky wallpaper border with new, kid-friendly border. Should be an easy project, but we are dealing with the dizzy guy and Jabba the Hut, so we'll see how that works out.
2. Renew my passport application. I have all the paperwork, but I need to get a different picture. The one I have screams, "I am 9 months pregnant. I have 3 chins and I wasn't particularly nice to the CVS lady that took this." I don't feel like staring at that for the next ten years.
3. 14 months after getting married, finally finish getting all my name-change paperwork done. I still need a new license.
4. Finish uploading our CDs to the new Mac. Remember this time that if you are going to do something like upload 10,000 songs that backing it up is probably a good idea.
5. Finish developing my matrix of publications to send my stuff to. I've been sending stories to the same three publications with nothing going. I'm sure there is somebody out there that finds me brilliant. I just have to make the time to find them.

And finish closing out shit at work.

Get Out of Jail Free

Today was my last day in the office until I return from maternity leave. I will be working from home until Zygote is born, but my commute can now suck it. Sweatpants, t-shirts, and flip flops and helping YG recover all sound a-okay to me.

What I'm Reading

The only benefit of frequent insomnia and hours in hospital waiting rooms is that you get to catch up on reading. Some recent reads:

1. The Best American Essays 2008: Kind of a snore. My last writing teacher suggested I read more essays since that seems to be my genre of choice, but I didn't particularly enjoy the whole collection. I found the one on end-of-life healthcare fascinating and loved the one on lesbian weddings. The fact that I can't remember many of the other ones leads me to question the "best" title.

2. Fortress of Solitude by Jonathan Lethem: LOVED it. I read Motherless Brooklyn a few years ago when everyone was Lethem crazy, and I just didn't get it. I found it boring. I approached this one thinking I'd feel the same way, but it feels so different. It's gorgeous and passionate and heartbreaking at the same time.

3. Waiting for Daisy: A Tale of Two Continents, Three Religions, Five Infertility Doctors, an Oscar, an Atomic Bomb, a Romantic Night, and One Woman's Quest to Become a Mother by Peggy Orenstein: I have devoured everything Peggy Orenstein has ever written and look forward to essays that she writes. Interestingly enough, she was researchingFlux, one of my favorite non-fiction books in recent years, while going through the infertility treatments detailed in this book. It's very personal, but also offers insight into the infertility business. Quick read too. I've had it on my shelf for years -- bought it at City Lights the first time I went to San Francisco a few years ago.

4. Opting In: Having A Child Without Losing Yourself by Amy Richards: Appropriate timing, I guess. It wasn't an academic read and covers a lot of ground, but I don't feel like I learned much new. I did enjoy the chapters on the work/stay-at-home debate and how that needs to be larger, and also liked that she covered the changing nature of female relationships after baby comes. I'm hoping to still have a life post-baby and also hoping to maintain my relationships with people who have chosen not to have kids. I know how fucking boring it is to listen to endless kid stories when you have none of your own, or even when you do -- I don't want to subject anyone to that. Again, she didn't cover too many tips, but I liked that it was a topic.

And now, I'm in the middle of Operating Instructions which is exactly as awesome as I expected it to be.

The Last Couple of Days: Serious Suck

Exhausted and reeling and over being scared, but not quite over being freaked out.

Saturday, May 9
MG’s 10th birthday. We have a great day and drop her off at her mother’s house. We decide to use a few leftover gift certificates to go out for a nice, adult dinner since we’re not sure how many of those we have left before Zygote comes. We leave the zip code. We actually leave Cambridge, which never happens. We go to Ivy and have some awesome antipasto and pork and risotto balls filled with prosciutto. YG drinks red wine, but mentions that he’s been dizzy and that his ear is ringing. We play Dr. Google once we get home and figure that he just has an ear infection.

I am having major Braxton-Hicks contractions on and off. We wonder if the baby will come early.

Sunday, May 10
Mother’s Day. We go to church and then drive out to Concord to meet YG’s family for lunch. I eat my weight in pasta and we have a nice time chatting with everyone. YG mentions the dizziness and that his ear hurts. His sister reassures him that it’s probably just an infection, leftover from a cold. His sister’s fiancé says, “or it could be like my aunt(?) who thought she had an ear infection and it turned out to be a tumor.” We all laugh.

Sunday Night
I cannot sleep. At all. Zygote has me up all night now. YG also can’t sleep. He feels like shit and is tossing and turning too. I get up around 3 and watch Superbad in its entirety.

Monday, May 11
YG wakes up and tells me that he cannot hear, at all, in his left ear. He’s freaked out. I’m freaked out. We call Harvard Vanguard Urgent Care up the street, but they won’t let him come in because his primary care physician isn’t located there. He finally gets an appointment with his doctor out in Acton. The doc couldn't figure out what was wrong, so he was shuttled around to different specialists and they found absolutely NOTHING and basically told him that there is some study going on a Mass Eye and Ear for early hearing loss, and that he should sign up as a candidate for that because they can't find anything. They tell him to either go there, or to come back tomorrow. How does someone just immediately lose their hearing?

YG calls me at work and asks if I can come home. YG NEVER asks me to come home, so I dump everything and head out. I can’t stop thinking about that comment about thinking one has an ear infection that turns out to be a tumor.

At home, we finally get through to the woman running the Mass Eye and Ear study and she says that he needs to get to the emergency room immediately and get started on treatment.

We decide to go. Initially, we were going to take the T, but YG is dizzy and throwing up and I know I won’t be able to hold him up if he faints or falls. We decide to drive. The ride over was just fab. In rush hour. With him throwing up every five minutes in a bag. I wonder for a minute if the people at Old Navy and Gap know how useful their bags are for cleaning up cat shit and catching puke. I’m guessing no.

At MGH, we wait for a while among a gaggle of people wearing face masks and with bandaged eyes. I try not to stare, but I can’t help it. When a woman comes out with a tube in a big, bloody nose, I almost gag. I end up calling the ECT to spare YG from having to deal with her. Of course, there is drama. She is panicked and freaking out, until I tell her that she needs to pick MG up from school and take her to the orthodontist because YG can’t drive and I want to stay with him. The tone changes. She hems and haws and says she’s not sure if she can do it. She’s busy. It’s an inconvenience. For her. Her ex-husband is half deaf and dizzy and puking, and his 37-weeks pregnant wife are sitting in the skeevy hospital waiting room, but I go overboard and tell her how grateful I am that she can help us out with this inconvenience. I think I am reserving my place in heaven.

We wait for about an hour and are finally seen. Apparently this hearing loss is very common.

The bottom line is that YG has been diagnosed with SSHL (Sudden Sensorineaural Healing Loss) which is apparently more common than we knew, especially in young men. Very strange with no real known causes. Studies have shown that it could be viral, but they are inconclusive. The doctors have him on a high dose of steroids (known to help restore hearing about 60% of the time within a few months). We’re told to come back the next morning.

I realize on the drive home that I’ve never driven over the Longfellow Bridge. We stop at CVS on the way home and pick up the prescription. I get a burrito at Qdoba and pick up some Gatorade for YG. We are frazzled and a bit weepy and watch Superbad again. YG pukes again.

YG goes to sleep. I toss and turn in the bed for two hours before going and reading for an hour. I’m so paranoid that I keep creeping back into the bedroom to put my hand on YG’s chest and make sure that he is still breathing. I allow myself to lose it a little. I silently beg Zygote to stay put for a while.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009
We leave the house around 7:30 and head back to MGH. We take the T this time. YG pukes up a lemon-lime stream of Gatorade in the street, and a guy (somewhere in between friendly neighborhood dude and crazy) tells us to drink lime water and honey.

We make it to the hospital with no more puking and YG is a bit more steady on his feet.

YG takes a hearing test. I’m sitting in the room with him and he’s wearing head phones. The high pitched noises coming through the left ear are so loud that I can hear them and am uncomfortable, but he hears nothing. It freaks me out. The doctor tells us about the clinical study on SSHL and tells us that we’re in good shape because we did something early and that steroids are known to help.

We go back downstairs to the ER. We talk to a couple with a baby in the elevator. The baby is 9 days old. I didn’t imagine that I would be in a hospital for anything but baby stuff.

The ER doctors examine the test results and again tell us that SSHL is pretty common and they see numerous cases a WEEK. They remind us that some people get their hearing back and others don’t. They prescribe Ativan, of all things, for the dizziness. YG is going to see another specialist on Monday, and everyone wishes us well. I manage to ask the doctor, "how do you know it's not being caused by a tumor?" and he said that was highly unlikely given the symptoms YG was presenting, but that you never can be 100% certain.

We take the T back and are weepy again. We’re early for my doctor’s appointment in Davis, so we stop at the daycare center and watch all the toddlers for a little. We listen to our kicky baby at my appointment, and then head home.

YG eats his first real meal in two days and we both try to work on our laptops. We take a nap. We go out for a walk. We’re trying to be normal. We need to call our families and tell them.

What a mind fuck.

TEN

Today is the MG's tenth birthday. Ten! I can hardly believe it. When I first met her, she was six and we were in the lobby of a hotel in New York City. YG had taken her there as a present for her impending seventh birthday. She immediately grabbed my hand and asked me to take her to the bathroom. We then went and played on the swings in Central Park and had scones at Alice's Teacup. Two months later, I moved to Massachusetts.

The following year, we went to Cancun. And last year, we celebrated at the bowling alley with her mom, her mom's boyfriend and some friends after YG and I got back from France on our honeymoon. This year, we decided not to do a party. We're taking her on a day trip next weekend, and last night we celebrated with some cupcakes from Kick Ass and steak at Frank's. Today, we went bowling again, this time in Cambridge, because I am too sweaty and unwieldy to really go anyplace else.

She's a great kid. Considering the massive upheaval in her life over the last couple of years, it's amazing she's so well-adjusted. I remember nine and ten. They were the beginning of the suck -- of mean girls and insecurity and raging hormones -- and I remember what an asshole I was to everyone around me. So far, she isn't like that. My birthday wish for her is that she escapes the next decade with as little bruising and scraping as possible, and that she stays happy.

Maternity Leave and Things I Want To Do

Approved!

I didn't get everything I wanted, but I did negotiate an extra 4 weeks leave unpaid and I am going back at a reduced work week of 32 hours. I'm happy with it, and looking forward to filling that extra day with Zygote and my writing.

In other news, I am sitting on my big, pregnant Orca-like ass, watching the Biggest Loser. These people just ran a marathon. I watch the runners outside every day, remembering last April and my first longer race, and I can't wait to get back out there. Can.not.wait.

In Today's "Are You Fucking Kidding Me?" News

Seriously?

I work in PR so nothing should ever surprise me, but the marketing of America and the marketing of women in particular never ceases to amaze.

Baked!

I think he or she is just putting on weight from here.



Nice weekend with a visit from my parents, a dinner at Rialto and an early birthday party for the MG.

Fat Lard: The Pregnancy Edition

Remember fat lard in an ugly shirt? The pregnancy edition goes something like:

YG: Do you think you can roll over on your other side?
JM: Are you saying I'm fat? That you don't think I'm capable of rolling over onto my side?
YG: The childbirth lady said you should be on your left side.
JM: And you don't think I can do that because I am so fat.
YG: That's exactly what I said.
JM: I am like Orca.
YG: I was thinking more like a manatee.
JM: I can't be a manatee. Manatees are just nice and dumb, but they don't do much.
YG: You're right. You're like a great white.
JM: ???
YG: Feeding machine, with no emotions.
JM: Nice.
YG: (giggle, giggle, giggle, makes sure to repeat joke multiple times so I can comment that he is, yes indeed, funny)
JM: I'm totally going to blog about this and tell everyone you called me fat.

I know that the first few weeks with a baby will likely suck, but god, I hope we keep our funny up.

Inexact Sciences

I keep hearing that determining how much a baby is going to weigh at birth is an inexact science, and I really, really, really hope to god that this is true because the phrase, "if it gets much larger than 10 lbs..." was not really one I was expecting. And frankly, it just makes me cross my legs.

I've been told for my last few visits that I am growing a "substantial" baby. Let's just hope that substantial means large and healthy and not like, a second grader.

Year One

Last year on April 26, YG and I got married. One year later, we spent the weekend in childbirth class. A far cry from a year ago when I was out running in the morning and he was enjoying his coffee at Diesel. We still made it back to The Marlowe and enjoyed some al fresco dining at Dante and a walk along the Charles. It wasn't Paris, but I can't imagine anywhere I'd rather be or anyone I'd rather be with.

It's Over

The fucking conference, that is. Now, I officially start to wind down and transition. Zygote is coming soon.

Things I Am Excited About:
* Nice weather this weekend
* Weekend childbirth class
* First Anniversary weekend pressies and surprises

Things In The Deep Dark Recesses of My Soul That I Probably Should Write About But Would Prefer To Repress
* Zygote is coming soon. I am going to be somebody's mom. Need to grow a pair quick.
* The Evil Cameltoe is making the MG miserable, and I will suppress the urge to .....everything.
* Zygote is coming soon. Mandatory pay cut. Economy in shambles. Our landlord is probably moving away next June. YIKES!

Behold: The iMac

We bought a new computer today so hopefully that means that posting will be a little less sporadic. I haven't had a Mac since the awesome PowerMac I bought in 1994 when I first got to college that I used mainly for typing and then really, really slow dial up when I thought the Internets were for browsing song lyrics. Our home PC died last Fall, and well, I've just been making do. How? I don't know. Especially when I've spent the last hour staring slack jawed at all of the awesomeness that is the iMac.

Recreating my iTunes library is going to suck. I had about 7000 songs and I backed up about 100 of those. But I've got the time and I am thrilled to have music back in our lives again. It's been a bit of a dry spell. I am so far removed from cool, I don't even know where to begin.

What else? The work conference from hell begins on Monday so if I can make it through this week, I'm in the clear for starting to think about my exit plan. Also negotiating my maternity leave. And just getting bigger and bigger. I had to take a nap today after a trip to the mall to buy the computer. I'm guessing this does not bode well for the next few weeks. But Zygote is still healthy and has successfully wedged his or her legs right under my ribcage in preparation for the eventual migration south.

Not much by way of an update, but shit, we've been BUSY.

So Much For That Whole 40 Days Thing

Big surprise - I wasn't able to keep up with that idea. It's not that I haven't been grateful and/or happy. I've just been insanely busy. Work, baby, travel -- it feels like it's all piling up so writing, blogging, and marketing my shit has kind of taken a back seat. I feel guilty about this, but YG tells me not to stress about not taking another thing on right now.

So some good things:
* Only 8 weeks to go. Zygote is still growing and appears to be doing okay. Watching my belly undulate right now.
* In 3 weeks, work project from hell will be over.
* I went home to NJ last week, and my mom and aunt threw me a surprise shower. WE HAVE STUFF. Woo! And I got to see NN and BB for the first time in a while. Pictures to come.
* We hired a doula, and she seems pretty level-headed and normal.
* Our taxes didn't suck nearly as much as we thought they were.
* Greatest One Hit Wonders of the 80s.
* My writing class this semster was cancelled. I'm sad, but think it's for the best. It was unlikely that I'd be able to finish it, and I would have probably felt guilty about not being into it 100%.
* Spring!
* IOWA!

I, obviously, am having some sort of writing block, but hope to get back on schedule soon.

Decision Making

I meant to post this yesterday, but I wanted to get to bed. We had a pretty good experience interviewing a doula last night. I've had mixed feelings about whether or not I want a doula. Everyone says that they are very valuable, but I couldn't imagine sharing this very personal experience with a stranger. YG had similar feelings.

I thought I wanted a natural childbirth with no drugs, but I wasn't really clear on the reasons. We watched The Business of Being Born and read Birthing From Within , and now I have a clearer understanding of why this is a good idea in theory, but I'm still not clear on why I'm committed to it. Is it crazy competitive parenting? Is it because I'm afraid of missing something? Am I afraid of being judged? I don't know.

YG said that he thinks the way I'm presenting this says something about my true feelings. I've told people that I wanted to try for a natural childbirth, but that I wouldn't feel bad if I had an epidural. I told this to him, my doctor, the doula, the nurse at the hospital, etc. I thought this was the truth, but he thinks (and I agree) that there's an element of fear there -- that I don't know if I want to commit to natural childbirth. And well, that IS TRUE. Honestly, I can't imagine getting a needle in my spine -- that sounds horrifying and terrifying. But I also can't understand pain so bad that I would deliberately choose to have a needle in my spine.

I have a lot of thinking to do. If I want to commit to doing this naturally, I think the doula will be able to help both YG and I get through it. But if I'm already thinking, in the back of my mind, that I might want the epidural at some point, then why spend the money? Why add this other person in? I have to write it all out.

Grateful that I have choices, though.

A Good Night's Sleep

I'm at the point of being totally uncomfortable at night: getting up multiple times, rearranging pillows, tossing and turning. Add in sweatiness and bloody noses and it's all good times. I finally slept a bit last night, and it was so nice. I only woke up twice and I managed to be somewhat comfortable. Today, I felt relatively okay and somewhat alive at work. It's so hectic and crazy and I'm afraid that the other people on my team are picking up my slack, so I have my fingers crossed for a few more good nights.