Enjoy having two hands
August 28th 2013
27 weeks pregnant.
Andy and I had dinner with our good friends Ellen and Joel this past week. Ellen is the mother of Indigo and Juniper and I was lucky enough to witness Juniper’s birth. Now Juniper is creeping up on six months old, which I can hardly fathom. We asked them what it was like to have two children, and Joel quickly replied, “Enjoy having two hands now. That’s all I’m going to say.” Ellen was quick to remind him that Wilder will have more than just Andy and I as parents, and I couldn’t help but feel really relieved by this. Although I must say that Ellen and Joel make it look pretty easy. They are also very laid back and don’t seem to borrow trouble. Their main advice to us (me in particular) is not to stress about the small stuff. “Some days just go to shit. And that’s okay. Always remember that.” I’m so glad that we have other parents we can talk to. It also greatly helps that they are always pointing out the ridiculousness and humor in raising children. Every time we are around them, we laugh more than anything else. I hope I can keep my (awesome) sense of humor once Wilder is here.
I’ve been feeling a little blue recently and I think it has to do with my abject lack of a wild and crazy social life. I find myself pouting on the couch like a kid who isn’t ready for summer to end. Andy is always asking me if I want to do anything in particular and while many opportunities sound lovely, I find myself too tired to commit to anything. I have a feeling that as this pregnancy moves forward, my lack of energy may grow. I get cranky and then frustrated at my own crankiness. Good times for all! It reminds me of the many times I have gone on some type of cleanse (giving up a particular food and/or alcohol) and discovered that I needed solitude to stick with it. Pregnancy has been that way for me in many respects. I find that it really is an introspective time and while I do need the time alone, I’m not always satisfied with myself as company. I am one of those women who talks to her stomach. I explain to Wilder that as much as I love him, I’m really looking forward to a post-delivery bender. I believe that he completely understands.
In my chosen moments of solitude, I’ve found myself reading as much as possible. I’ve been covering about a book a week recently and I’m hoping to stick with that momentum. Reading has always been one of my favorite activities, and it fuels my desire to write more often. The last two books that I finished left me inspired/disappointed. “I can write something better than this” has become my mantra, almost always followed by the frustration and shame that I am not writing as much as I should be. And I’m not really sure why. Writing is one of the things that always brings me relief. Even if the end result isn’t what I originally intended, just the act of getting the words on the page is a release. My father was always a writer. He completed his final short story (with my assistance) at the age of 82. His stories inspired me throughout my life and I grew with the idea that in order to be a writer, all one had to do was actually write. I try to remind myself of this every time I begin to feel defeated in my progress. I’m so glad that I’ve stuck with this blog, even if I sometimes fall behind in my posts (sorry). Also I truly appreciate the feedback and conversations that I have with my readers. Bonus points for the amount of time it has saved in explaining our unique parenting situation.
Over dinner last Saturday Andy and I discussed how much our relationship has changed. At times I feel like we are two completely different people than who we were when we met on that fateful day in 2003. It sometimes catches me as a surprise, even to this day, that we are together and that our relationship is as solid and fulfilling as it has become. At different points in our tenure we have sought therapy and one time Andy’s therapist wholeheartedly recommended that we end our relationship. We joked about him seeing the gentleman again and explaining we are semi-co-habitating and expecting a child. But then again, I try to imagine telling myself five years ago that this is where I would be, and it seems ludicrous as well. Stagnation is the death knell of a relationship. If a person isn’t willing or able to make changes to improve him or herself, then how will they be able to grow with a partner? I have found it to be one of the most important things in our relationship for Andy and me to maintain some separate interests. Not only does it give us time away from each other, but it provides interesting conversation when we reunite. I hope that our ability to maintain some diversity proves to be helpful to our son. Especially when considering all he will be able to learn from not just me and Andy, but also Lee Kyle and his partner.
I began attempting to organize the nursery. I’ve been overwhelmed with the kindness and generosity of my family and friends. If any of you are reading this, thank you all for the wonderful gifts purchased off the registry. Not only am I like a kid on Christmas morning when a package arrives, but receiving the things we need to have has also helped me get over some of the financial stress I was feeling. I am wholeheartedly appreciative. Because I am not the most dexterous when it comes to assembling things, I enlisted the help of a co-worker. I’m sure you are thinking that with two baby daddies, assembling things should not be an issue. Unfortunately both of them have had rather hectic schedules lately. Lee Kyle was out of town for over a week visiting his father and Andy had a good friend in from Chicago over the past weekend. Thankfully Patrick is an engineer and apparently enjoys putting shit together. I was very grateful for him and his lovely girlfriend to come by on Sunday afternoon and assemble the crib and the pack-n-play. Unlike when I assemble things, there was no cursing or left-over parts. I assured him that there would surely be more to come. He is hopefully going to be moving on to a better job out of town soon, so I better hurry.
I have finally reached a size where shaving my lady bits is no longer a comfortable option. I am nearing the point where my stomach will stick out past my breasts, and while this does mean that Wilder is growing and things are progressing as they should, it is still a bit terrifying. I decided to get waxed, because the thought of my vagina becoming a secret garden does not agree with me. I tried to make an appointment with a waxist that I have heard great things about and have met casually, but she was unavailable this past weekend. I ended up going to a place that specializes in waxing. I have been waxed before, so I knew what to expect, although it had been quite some time. They say a woman’s genitals and surrounding tissues are more sensitive during pregnancy. This is true. While it can make for some amazing sex, it isn’t such a boon when having hair ripped out. The result of the hair removal was just what I wanted but the experience was uncomfortable in a few different ways. First off, it hurt like a motherfucker. I have a pretty high pain tolerance, and didn’t cry or anything, but there were moments when I thought, “I could totally punch this girl right now.” Also I’m not sure if it is because I have become a tad bit more sensitive (emotionally) lately, but I had the distinct feeling that my waxist was slightly judging me. I’m sure she looks at vaginas and assholes all day long, and she said that she had a few pregnant clients, but I must admit I felt very self-conscious. It didn’t help that she was a twenty- something natural redhead with great skin and perky tits. My past waxist was an older woman from Russia who made really good jokes. I spent some time thinking about why the situation made me feel this way and pondered how it will be when I am delivering Wilder. I would think the severity of the situation would trump any self-consciousness I might experience. I’m typically more of an exhibitionist and rarely find myself feeling uncomfortable about my body, but I suppose this is generally around people I know. I believe that it is just taking me some extra time to adjust to the new proportions of my body. Next time I get waxed, I think I’ll either go to someone I know or ask for an old woman. Honestly, I can’t wait to be able to see my whole body again, without the use of a mirror.