NS September 6th, 2008

I haven’t written in quite awhile. It’s unlike me to be quiet for so long but as you can imagine I’ve got a ton on my mind, what with my due date approaching like a freight train. T-minus two weeks and counting.

As the big event nears I find myself feeling an odd mixture of emotions: excitement (to experience birth again and meet my baby), trepidation (at becoming a mother of two and dealing with the newborn stage again), loss (of the one-on-one relationship with my daughter), joy (at falling in love with a new little person) and most of all — the intense desire to be alone. All I’ve wanted to do for the past week or two is read, take baths, sleep and get lost in my thoughts. When I get free time I don’t want to go shopping or meet up with friends or watch a movie with TNH, I want to be by myself. I enjoy my own company and like spending time alone. Don’t get me wrong, I love the people in my life and am not wanting to cut them off or anything, and I’m not depressed, but a knot of fear has been growing in my stomach like a vine, creeping up and up and up, and out and over me, its thorny leaves pricking me and taunting me, threatening me with the possibility of strangulation. Will ‘Motherhood: Round Two’ take away a piece of me, change me, suffocate me? Will the sleep deprivation and constantly being needed take their toll on my psyche, my personality, my soul? How will I cope with a strong-willed and stubborn toddler and a mewling, helpless infant?

These are questions I’m sure many, many mothers have asked themselves at this stage of pregnancy so I don’t pretend to be facing unforeseen obstacles. I knew it would be hard and I knew I would go through this stage. The funny thing is, I’m looking forward to it almost as much as I’m dreading it. I can’t wait to hold a tiny baby in my arms and look down at its cupid-bow lips, flailing arms and eyes as enchanting and placid as the deep blue sea, holding it close to my heart and feel it nuzzle into me, need me, be nourished by me. In a way, that vine of fear is needed and natural because without it I wouldn’t appreciate the beautiful blooms it produces once it reaches the surface.

Yeah, that makes zero sense, I know. Essentially, all I’m trying to say is that I’m using this time, this calm before the (lovely) storm, to shore up my mental energy, mourn the loss of a life being left behind and celebrate the one to come.

In addition to preparing for my new role and life, I’m also consumed with thoughts of the impending labour and birth. As you already know if you’re a regular reader, I am planning to have the baby at home, in the water, and am very excited about it. I’m actually looking forward to giving birth, not dreading it. I won’t relish the pain, certainly, and it will undoubtedly be a bit of a rollercoaster ride. But bringing this baby into the world with my own body, my own two hands, clear of mind and free from the anonymity and fear that birthing in a hospital, hooked up to machines and pumped full of drugs, can put upon a woman — it would be a healing, almost spiritual experience for me. That may sound strange coming from a hardcore atheist and probably one of the most non-spiritual people you could meet, but maybe I’m more spiritual than I thought. Maybe my attempt to connect with all of womankind in an act so primal, so timeless and infinite, is a journey I need to go on to find that piece of myself I’m searching for. I hope to find the kind of empowerment that would undoubtedly come from doing something so amazing on my own and to use that empowerment to better myself not only as a mother right now but as a person who goes out and gets what she wants and what she deserves, always.

I must do these things, all by myself. And so that is where my energies are focused right now, where they need to be. So don’t think that I’ve given up on writing and connecting, or that I’ve nothing to say. This is just the calm before the storm. Be assured, I’ll come out the other side of this tempest, hopefully stronger than ever.

• Parenting 101 , Squish Squish , The Noble Fetus
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NS August 18th, 2008

I’m done.

I’m done being pregnant and sick at the same time, which seems to keep happening with frightening regularity. Less than two weeks ago it was gastroenteritis and just when I’d recovered from that (like, the next day) I came down with stonking chest cold. An evil, hard ball of angry phlegm is sitting in my chest, much like the Grinch’s heart, tearing up my throat and making my insides burn when I hack and cough with such ferocity that the cat runs away and TNC cries and I wouldn’t be surprised if my neighbours thought we had an 80-year-old 40-a-day smoker living with us.

Just now I coughed so hard that I threw up my breakfast into TNC’s training potty, which thankfully happened to be near my feet. I never realised how difficult and painful it is to cough with such force when your stomach muscles are stretched on both sides to somewhere near your elbows, leaving little to support your heaving abdomen. Pleasant imagery, no? I do hope I haven’t made you lose your breakfast.

• Health and Fitness , The Noble Fetus
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NS August 7th, 2008

I woke up on Sunday with some kind of stomach ailment, resulting in many trips to the bathroom. This carried on into Monday and then Tuesday. By then I felt absolutely wiped out and couldn’t cope anymore so went to the GP. She suspected either mild food poisoning or gastroenteritis. Not much can be done about either except ride it out and stay hydrated. Thankfully the sickness part has finally gone but yesterday I was left feeling like I’d been hit with a ton of bricks. Just washing a dish was too much for my weakened body and I had to lean on the sink and take deep breaths numerous times before I got through the stack of plates and glasses. Walking to the store and back meant I had to lie down and take a nap when I got home. Today is not much better. I’m beginning to suspect that it’s not just the sickness that has knocked the wind out of my sails, but the business of baking this baby as well.

I’ve been feeling so good lately and this pregnancy has gone so well compared to The Noble Child’s that I think I’d forgotten that being nearly eight months along in August is probably going to limit what I can do. Just a few weeks ago I had such high hopes for the two months leading up to the birth — I would get the house clean and in order; get all of the baby things down, washed, folded, bought, organised and put away; get my new website up and running (yeah, did I tell you that I bought another domain and plan to start another site in addition to this one? yes, I’m mad); prepare for the birth; spend quality time with my family and friends and treat myself to days out, coffees and massages; get a few more article proposals sent off to the magazines I’m targeting; and continue with my daily routine of caring for a rambunctious two-year-old, keeping up with domestic chores, doing the shopping, paying the bills and managing the household budget, sustaining my marriage and finding time for blogging, reading and other activities I do on on a regular basis.

All I can say is: Self, were you momentarily deluded or are you certifiably, undeniably FUCKING INSANE? Did you forget that you’re growing another human being inside of you and that the last two months are not wholly dissimilar to certain scenes from popular horror movies including The Blob, Psycho, The Exorcist and Alien? Did you forget that you’d be getting up anywhere from 2-4 times a night to pee and that turning over in bed would be like a turtle on its back with molasses smeared on its shell trying to flip over? Did you even stop to think about the cruel fact that at the one time in your life when you could truly do with a pot of coffee, a case of Red Bull and a pack of smokes to keep you going that you will be forbidden to do so by your fetal friend? You didn’t think being impregnated while you had a toddler and at the height of summer would really be that big of a deal, did you? YOU ARE AN IDIOT, SELF.

So as of today, I am abashedly but not ashamedly admitting a defeat of sorts. This baby has kicked my ass and lowered my expectations to such an extent that from here on out my goals leading up to the birth are: keep TNC alive and reasonably clean; keep the house just clean enough that social services couldn’t take action if they saw it, even though they might want to; don’t get divorced; keep myself alive. A much simpler, more attainable list, don’t you think? It’s important to have goals but they really need adjusting once in awhile. I am hereby giving myself permission to come in for a landing. If I get my energy back and can get some of the things on my list crossed off, great. If not, anyone who thinks I’m lazy can BITE ME. Soon, I will be pushing something the size of a Virginia honey-baked ham out of an opening the size of a lemon and that officially qualifies me as a superhero capable of crushing degenerates who think this whole procreating thing is easy for women.

It’s a bird! It’s a plane! It’s Super Incubator! Screw world peace and protecting innocent citizens, my special power shall be taking naps and baths whenever I damn well please. And I don’t even need a cape to do that. A tiara might be nice though.

• Miscellaneous Missives , The Noble Fetus
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NS July 16th, 2008

Only nine and some change weeks until my due date. That means I could go into labour as soon as seven weeks. I know that in theory that’s still bags of time but I just suddenly have this slightly-panicky ‘must get everything done now’ feeling. So I’m making exhaustive lists and coming up with budgets and doing trips up to the loft and eying up all available storage space. Surprisingly, I’m not stressed about it at all though. In fact, I quite like getting everything organised and it’s nice to have something to occupy my time besides toddler-wrangling and article-writing and wishing that I owned a crane to turn me over in bed in the middle of the night.

And now that the cat’s out of the bag — that I’m having this baby at home — I can relax about it a bit more. I didn’t purposely not tell anyone, it’s just that no one really asked. The assumption that I’d go into hospital like I did last time has just hung there in the air and I did nothing to dispel it. But now that my parents know and seem relatively ‘okay’ with it (not that I need their permission or approval) and the planning stage is ramping up, I don’t care who knows. It’s not my dirty little secret, it’s my secret joy and I’m extremely excited about it. So any naysayers can check their negativity at the door ’cause nothing is going to bring me down from my homebirthin’ cloud.

Though I will say, many of the things I need to gather for the birth are proving somewhat amusing. Some of the things on my list include old shower curtains, a crock pot, a flashlight, a large resealable bag, olive oil and a bucket. It sounds more like I’m hosting one of those strange Japanese game shows where they humiliate the contestants and pour goopy stuff on them than having a baby! I can’t wait to see The Noble Husband’s face when he sees the final supplies all stacked in a corner. I have a feeling some jokes about a cave and a stick to bite on might surface.

My biggest challenge right now, however, has nothing to do with preparing for the birth, it’s trying to decide on cloth nappies. I never knew there were so many kinds, types and brands. All-in-ones, prefolds, inserts, wraps, fleece liners, disposable liners, boosters, soakers, pockets, poppers, clippers…the terminology and accessories are endless! I need to choose ones that are easy to use (so that there’s at least a glimmer of hope for getting TNH to use them), don’t leak, aren’t too bulky and are relatively inexpensive and cute. Oh, and that are quick to dry on the line. Can’t I just hire a magical nappy fairy to come make all the purchasing decisions, wipe the kid’s ass and take all of the mess away before I’ve even had a chance to sniff the air and wrinkle my nose? Because that would be fabulous.

My last inane pregnancy-related tidbit is that TNH thinks I am a bit strange for so thoroughly enjoying balancing things on my bump. Mugs of tea, books, bowls of ice cream…anything that needs to be closer to my face sits on the bump. It’s like having a built-in coffee table! One that spontaneously jumps and sometimes knocks things off of the previously level surface. It’s not perfect but it’s useful and it amuses me so that’s all that matters. It’s the little things these days.

• The Noble Fetus
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NS July 3rd, 2008

(aka ‘A Guide To Trimming Your Pubic Hair While Pregnant)

Step 1: Give husband/partner/rude stranger at swimming pool a slap when they mention the forest down below

Step 2: After indignation wears off, grab a hand mirror and have a look for yourself

Step 3: Pick self up off floor and splash cold water onto face

Step 4: Gather necessary tools for weeding/pruning/edging and lock bathroom door

Step 5: Put ‘Welcome To The Jungle’ on the stereo

Step 6: With a grimace and a prayer and the aid of a hand mirror, attempt to weed-whack your way through to a recognisable surface

Step 7: Realise the hand mirror is bloody useless and glare at the protruding belly blocking your view

Step 8: Blindly grasp little tufts of hair between two fingers and try to cut by ‘feel’

Step 9: Come perilously close to nicking most delicate parts with sharp little scissors and decide that’s enough

Step 10: Lather up bikini line and grip lady razor in dominant hand; use other hand in a futile attempt to push belly aside for better view

Step 11: Using edges of bath and all available grips, contort self into strange positions for the shaving portion of the event

Step 12: Swear, mutter and think murderous thoughts of everyone who is non-pregnant

Step 13: Nearly slip and envision the headlines after your death: “Hairy, knocked-up idiot falls to death in shower”

Step 14: Wash the shaving cream away, put the razor away and dry off

Step 15: Inform husband/partner/stranger at pool that natural is in now and that if they mention it again you will serve them placenta stew without their knowledge

Step 16: Go eat chocolate cake

• Funny Ha-Ha , Public Service Announcements , The Noble Fetus
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