Circuit (City) Overload

Since our digital camera broke, and since we'll probably wanting to take lots of pictures of our little one when he/she arrives, we've been talking about getting a new camera. Scott volunteered to do some research on different models, and we headed to Circuit City last night to check them out. As compatible as we are in many ways, the hubster and I do have some differences. He likes shiny new things, and I prefer to keep things a bit (cheaper) simpler. The camera he'd picked out was one that could be used either manually or automatically, and had fancy lenses and lots of buttons. I gravitated towards one that was about half the cost and basically was just the newer version of our old camera. Between the flourescent lights, the constant hovering sales people asking whether we needed help, the overwhelming choice of cameras with buttons and switches and fancy slidey things, and the extra dash of hormones rushing through my body, I started to get antsy.

We bantered a bit about the camera he wanted and the camera I wanted, and decided to leave and think things over. By the time we pulled into the Babies R Us parking lot to pick up a gift, I had transitioned into full throttle meltdown. Scott was a trooper, and waited while I worked my way out of my fit.

We made it through the rest of the trip with out additional tears, and proceeded to visit our new niece and get lots of snuggle time with her.

But I stayed bothered by our camera standoff-- I really felt the simpler one was better, but I felt bad that Scott really had his heart set on the other one. It's not an easy financial time for many people, and neither of us have excellent job security. I know we will be fine whatever happens, but finances are an area that can send me into a deep well of self-loathing, since I feel I should be more self-sufficient than I am at this stage in my life. I use this as a way to beat myself up, and tell myself I'm not good enough, and the camera issue brought this all swirling to the surface for me.

This morning I made myself go to my 12-step "eatin' meetin'"-- though food is not currently plaguing me, the spiritual aspects of the program and the comfort I get from sitting in a room full of people doing their best to be honest and improve their lives still applies. A woman spoke about her perfectionism, about wanting to look perfect and have a perfect house and a perfect life and something in me shifted, relaxed. This woman is someone I adore, and when I look at her I don't see her imperfections. I see a lovely, charming, funny woman who I kind of want to be when/if I grow up. I was reminded that I can choose to beat myself up for all the areas of my life where I fall short-- whether it's self-sufficiency or procrastination or messy rooms or a myriad of other things-- but all that seems to do is make me and the people around me miserable. And I was reminded that the way I see things is not necessarily the way they are-- it sounds so obvious but it's easier to say than to remember. It's like if I wander around without my contacts or glasses-- the world looks like a collection of big blurry blobs. But the world doesn't really look that way-- it just appears that way through my broken eyes.

So. I came home more spiritually fit and relieved of some heavy baggage. And, to top it off, Scott wanted to go back to Circuit City to look at the camera I had admired the night before. I volunteered to return to the lion's den with him, and we happily purchased that very camera. In appreciation of his act of compromise, I encouraged him to treat himself to a new video game. No tears were shed, we were both pleased, and I'm happy to report that the rest of the day has passed more peacefully.

Phew.

Babies and Bellies!!!

We met our new niece, Sophia Grace, this morning. She is a perfect little peanut. And honestly, I really needed the reminder that after all the discomfort of pregnancy (and I'm not ready to even think too much about the later stages-- incontinence, hemorrhoids and... labor)-- you get a prize! A little baby. And it was quite comforting to see my sis-in-law looking more like she'd just returned from a beach vacation than from birthin' a baby...

Then this afternoon I got to see my friend Megan who just moved back to Maine and is almost eight months pregnant. Megan and I were brought together by The Fates when we both worked for the Portland Pirates almost ten years ago. We quickly bonded thanks to our evil senses of humor and enjoyed several months of mocking such characters as Doug, the Office Masturbator; the Pirates Biggest Fan, Switchboard, who licked his palms before eating any foods lying around the office; and Scratchy aka Yellow Mellow (don't even ask). We actually got separated more than once by the office personnel because we could always be found in a mischevious huddle when we should've been performing important hockey-related duties.

So it was a delight to discover that we were once again being tossed together-- this time as Belly Buddies. Meegles, I'm glad you're back in Maine!

All in all, a good day, though I got nary a scrap of work done. But there is always tomorrow for that-- after all, it's almost six which means it's time to crawl into my jammies and watch bad TV.

Waiting

My sister-in-law is about to give birth-- or maybe already has by now. Scott's family has been busy producing "the cousins" this past year-- his little sis had her baby girl in January, his brother's wife is in the hospital as we speak, and then me in February. I can't wait to meet our newest niece or nephew... and I'm going a little crazy waiting for the phone to ring!

It's a strange thing-- for several years after my brother died, this kind of event would be tinged with bittersweetness. The joy of having a new member of the family mixed with the sadness of knowing I'd never be an auntie to my own brother's kids. But time has swirled away-- almost ten years-- and I am just plain happy to have the amazing niece and nephew that we already have, and twitchin' to meet the latest addition.

So our digital camera has, as my grandma Jeanne would say, crapped out. So pardon the lack of context, but I just feel like posting a photo of King Scott taken on his 30th birthday. If he looks a little solemn, it's probably because that happened to be the day we moved into our new house, not because he's old.

Off to wait by the phone...

Uterus Rising

We had our third appointment with the midwives today. I am really happy with them-- they are very calm, positive, and affirming. I feel lucky-- even though we live in a relatively small town, we get to have our birth attended by midwives, but still have the safety of being in a birthing center within a hospital. And I hear the rooms at the new Mercy Hospital will have Jacuzzis in them-- which Scott has informed me he'll be soaking in during my labor. Haha.

And we got to hear the little heartbeat again, which is such a comfort. And my little ole' uterus is moving on up-- right where it's supposed to be. Our midwife was a little worried that I've lost a bit more weight-- she'd like to see me on nausea medication if this doesn't taper off in the next several days. This is the first time in my life that I've actually wanted to gain weight. Although I admit the eating disordered thinking part of me disagrees-- fortunately, that's not the part of me that's in charge these days.

Last night my parents treated me to dinner at the Lobster Shack at Two Lights-- I'm embarrased to say that I've lived here for over six years and that was my first visit there. I had a delightful, nutritious meal of french fries daintily dipped in tartar sauce, all enjoyed against the backdrop of the sweeping Atlantic-- likey!

This feels a little random but I was afraid if I didn't write something today, I wouldn't keep my momentum up... so here's to momentum.

Dude, where's my Glow?

The nausea is back. I really thought I'd slipped into the 2nd trimester honeymoon phase I keep hearing about, but not the past few days.

So I'm going to try and focus on what I'm grateful for:

• I get to work from home. I don't have to crawl into an office from 9-5 feeling like this. Instead, I get to prop my little ole laptop up on a pillow and do my work from bed. With my kitty (when she's not off visiting Grandma and Grandpa) next to me. How cool is that?
• Gilmore Girls. I know it's been off the air for several years, but Blockbuster.com has kept the dvds coming the past few months. This chick flick series bursting with fast-rolling quips has soothed me on many rough days.
• My family. They would do anything for me and often do.
• My husband. He's been so patient and has taken on all the most disgusting of the household chores-- cat food, litter box, cat vomit clean-up, and doing the dishes. He's run to the grocery store to grab me random craving-related items and has been to all our baby appointments.
• My cat, Erica. I seem to write a lot about her on here. She's the creature I've spent the most time with the past few months. She is actually quite thrilled that I've taken to her lifestyle of lying in bed with short breaks for sustenance. She always knew I had what it took to be a cat.
• I'm sick because of something positive-- I could feel this way and be having chemo treatments or some other horrendous ailments. We get a baby at the end of all this!

There's plenty more, but what a good start. It also happens to be another beautiful Maine day. Guess I can wait a bit longer for that glow to arrive. (And if the Universe is listening, when I get my Glow, can you also bring some cleavage?!?)

Ripening

Fridays are usually the day that I go to the farm with Emily to pick up produce that wacky Gene (Pool) grew. I think I'm going to skip it today, but I am still thinking about ripening and growing. I finally watered the tomato plants I've been neglecting this morning, and I'm amazed by their resiliency. I haven't watered them often, or trimmed them back in the places that don't grow fruit, or spoken gently to them. And still most of them are green, and blooming small round fruits despite my neglect and the soggy summer. It gives me hope that whatever mistakes we'll make as parents will also be weathered with that same resiliency inherent to nature.

I tried to take a picture of my belly this morning, but I can't figure out the digital camera. In any case, it too is slowly blooming. Especially in the evenings, and especially if I've partaken in a large plate of Thai food. I still don't really believe there is a little creature in there-- it seems so science fiction to me. I believed it a little bit when we first heard the galloping heartbeat, and a lot more at our first ultrasound. In fact I forgot that we could see the baby, but it couldn't see us, and I'm pretty sure I tried to wave at it. But the rest of the time, it just doesn't seem quite real.

I find myself thinking a lot about the past lately. Partly because I've had a lot of time to think, and partly because having this baby will be one of the biggest "before and after" defining moments of my life. So I'm thinking about the "before". I find myself nostalgic for old friends and places, particularly Alaska. Although I don't want to live there, there is a part of me that belongs to the mountains and the slate grey water and the sleek pulse of whales. Even though I love being in Portland, and see us living here for a very long time, I still can't quite believe that our child won't know what it's like to grow up on a mountain at the edge of a forest, to gawk at bears strolling through the rock garden.

Or maybe it's just the hormones.

Fortunately for Scott, I have so far been spared the wild mood swings, but I am definitely softening. I cried during the Olympics last night when an American diver spoke about her last career dive (perhaps the strange thing is not that I cried during the Olympics, but that I actually watched the Olympics), and I had a complete meltdown the other night when I accidentally kicked the cat, and my cheeks are a bit wet now after writing about Alaska.

So everything shifts. People, hormones, tomatoes.

Enough deep thoughts-- I'm going to go watch some Gilmore Girls.

Back to Life

So it only seemed appropriate to mark my return to the living with a visit to my favorite cemetery.

Before I was stricken with two months of vomiting, dizziness, constant nausea and the inability to talk about, hear about or witness anything relating to body functions without gagging, I strolled the cemetery everyday, often for over an hour. I watched the tadpoles slowly sprout legs and lose their tails, and I judged how good the walk was by how many turtles I spotted in the pond.

Today was a little warm for my delicate self, but thanks to a rockin' breeze, I had a great walk. The former tadpoles are getting big and green, but I only saw one little lone turtle on the turtle log, stretching his little neck up towards the sun.

The high point of my walk: I love to read first names from the old tombstones. There are those that have gone by the wayside-- the Ediths, the Vernons, the Gertrudes (although the Gertrudes kind of sounds like a cool name for a band)-- the classics-- Elizabeth, Jonathan, Anne-- and the oldies that are now coming back into fashion, like Eva, Ava, and Ella. But today my friends, I found a new favorite. Veranus. I was dying (haha) to photograph the headstone to prove that there was once someone-- presumably a man?-- named Veranus, but in a stunning bout of good taste, I controlled my urges. But seriously... Veranus? I'll have to suggest that as a possible baby name to Scott...it's right up there with Wormus.

The low point: A gaggle of bratty pre-pubescent boys on bikes. Normally it wouldn't bother me but one of them was on some sort of motorized bike and they were purposely riding towards the ducks, yelling obscenities. If I'd had a cane with me, I'd have surely shaken it at them. Instead, I took a deep breath, kept walking, and sent off a quick prayer that we'd have a child with a gentle heart.

New

So it's time for something new. It's been a hard few months-- I always thought I'd be one of those women who loved being pregnant. Not so much-- it's hard to love it when you're nauseous and hurling and for some strange reason the scent of the first floor makes your new bloodhound self run back up the stairs to the bathroom. When for once in your life, you actually don't want to eat, but know that there's a tiny creature living inside you who needs you to.

I've been really isolated, and this is one way of making sure I am at least expressing what's up somewhere, somehow. Besides to my husband and mom, that is.

Today was a good day. I walked a bit, and read a bit, and snuggled a bit. I read some blogs of people I went to high school with-- one of whom recently experienced a similarly difficult early pregnancy, and it soothed me to read her words. Someone I had a mutual friend with in high school, but never really knew, but who after reading her thoughts, I feel I know.

On a positive note-- I am starting to be able to make poo jokes again without gagging. I am grateful for this small return to myself. In fact, yesterday something really gross happened that is now amusing. I woke up early (to pee for the forty-third time) and noticed that my cat Erica, who sleeps on my pillow above my head, smelled kinda poo-ish. I assumed that she had some poo stuck in her long fluffy fur, and booted her out of the bedroom, hoping to return to my slumber. Unfortunately, the smell was still there and I looked down to discover there was poo in the bed. Right next to my head. (The mysterious poo belonged to the cat, not me or Scott.) Turns out Scott had accidentally spooked Erica when she was in the litter box, and apparently she had finished her doody duty in the bed. At least that's what I'm hoping, and that it's not some new phase of her development as a senior cat.

So. On that note, I'll sign off. But it feels good to be here, and good to start something new.