Doc, I've got this pain....
Doc, I've got this pain....

Wednesday, Apr. 16, 2003, 4:04 p.m.

The reality of the baby is starting to hit home. The presents and the clothes are fun and cute and all...honest. Where's he going to go to daycare? Who will be his pediatrician? How will I take care of an infant while I am sore and leaking and bone tired? How are we going to pay for it all? If I start to think about it all at one time, I start to wonder what the heck we were thinking. Sometimes I wonder if we can take it back. Maybe I'm not ready.

Is anyone ever ready?

Probably not. Fortunately my fears are balanced by my level headed, passionately dedicated and incredibly excited husband who constantly reminds me, through word and deed that we will, indeed, be just fine. In fact, we'll be more than fine. We'll be a family.

My doctor is also a big help. She is exceedingly laid back about this whole pregnancy thing. "Doc," I say, "I've got this pain right here." Her response? "As long as you're not bleeding and your water hasn't broken, it's normal and you and the baby are fine." How's that for reality?

Actually it is borderline irksome to me. I read so much every day on message boards and pregnancy related websites from women who have become so afraid of every little pain, ache, grocery bag lift, pill they take or food they eat that they can barely function without a daily board check in, or at the very least, an "Is this normal??? (insert your favorite emoticon here)" post. Reading these things is rather addictive for me, partly because I am actually interested in what other pregnant women are experiencing, but mostly because I am a bit of a hypochondriac. Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to plaster that label, but I have convinced myself at different times during this thing that I might have an ectopic pregnancy, a miscarriage, an incompetent cervix, or most recently, gestational diabetes. Every time I see the doctor, she says that everything is normal, that the baby is perfectly healthy and that whatever the concern of the week is, I am symptom free. More often than not, this is reassuring. Sometimes though, when I return to the boards I find myself wanting to post the "Is My Doctor Normal?" message just to see if anyone else's doctor is as laid back as mine. Is she taking me seriously? Is she dismissive? Would she spend more than five minutes with me if I needed it? Is pregnancy making me insane?

I love this doctor. I completely trust her to deliver my child and take care of Joshua and I during the process. It's the process that scares me so much. I know that the product will be worth it. He's coming no matter how ready I am. I would go so far as to say that I am more ready than I probably realize. The "what if's" are less urgent. As I cross off the days, I become more and more calm. I wonder if I should be worrying more. I've just got the feeling that everything will be fine.

We will be a family.

Tuesday, Apr. 15, 2003, 4:47 p.m.

So we watched One Hour Photo last night. I really liked it. Of course I expected to like it, so I am glad that it lived up to my expectations. This is just the sort of movie I like - one that leaves me with some things to ponder afterwards. I am not a frivolous movie fan. This has become a point of discussion with my friends quite often since many of them are the kind who watch television and movies for pure entertainment value. I'm all for the unabashed escapism a good, mindless movie or TV program can provide, but generally I find myself more interested in using the time to fill my brain with something that leads me to a good discussion or at the very least, a good think. One Hour Photo fit the bill nicely. It was also sufficiently creepy.

And speaking of creepy....I went to get my hair cut a week or so ago and the wash lady, Georgetta (or is it Georgina?), a woman of some Eastern European country laid me back in the chair to commence the washing. The chair wanted me to lie fully reclined, which as you may or may not know, is rather painful for a pregnant woman, so I put my knees up to try to alleviate some of the weight on my chest and back and she looked down at me and the conversation went something like this:

Crazy Russian Lady: You are ready to have your baby, yes?

Me: Not for a few months.

CRL: A few months?! Is going to be big baby!

Me: Uh...I guess so.

CRL: Is a boy, yes?

Me: Yes, how did you...

CRL: I always know. I have four children.

What the heck? I'm not that big. In fact, I don't even know that people can tell most of the time. She was more than sufficiently creepy.

Joshua and I switched cars. I get to drive the big car now. It has a tape player! I've missed my tape player. I have some good stuff that I mixed during college (don't we all?) that I am having a great time getting reacquainted with during my drive time. This prompts me to ask myself where my love and taste for good music went as I left school. I may have mentioned before that music is a big stress relief mechanism for me. Oddly enough, I don't listen to nearly enough good music these days and I can't figure out just how that happened. Why do I spend time scanning and bitching about how there's nothing on when I have 200 CD's of my favorite stuff at home?

But see, there's the rub. Some of my favorite stuff is only on tapes. And some of it doesn't belong anywhere other than the exact space where I mixed it. I have no burner. I don't know that I would attempt to recreate my mix tapes for CD even if I could. The mix process and motivation was almost more important than the music for some of those tapes. I haven't been motivated to make a good mix for a while now. Not as much angst, I guess. But I still miss the music.

I miss Guadal Canal Diary and 24-7 Spyz and Jacob's Trouble and Bobby McFerrin and The Spin Doctors and Tuck and Patti. I lived for music just a few years back. Perhaps it's because I hung out with musicians who taught me so much about "good" music. Perhaps it was just that time in everyone's life when the music you listen to defines the era in your consciousness.

I don't know...but as I look forward to Wee Sing and The Wiggles and other stuff I will be listening to shortly, Trent Reznor getting fucked by the Devil in the back of his car seems somehow inappropriate and that just makes me sad.

Tuesday, Apr. 01, 2003, 1:57 p.m.

Dela (I Know Why The Dog Howls At The Moon)
Johnny Clegg

One day I looked up and there you stood
Like a simple question looking for an answer
Now I am a whale listening to some inner call
Swimming blindly to throw myself upon your shores
But what if I don't find when I have landed
Would you leave me here to die on your shores stranded?
I think I know why the dog howls at the moon.
I think I know why the dog howls at the moon.

I say:
"Dela! Dela! Ngiyadela!
(Content, content I am content)
When I am with you!
Dela! Sondela mama!
(Closer, closer, come closer mama)
I burn for you!

I've been waiting for you all my life -- waiting for a miracle
I've been waiting day and night -- waiting for redemption
I burn for you

A blind bird sings inside the cage that is my heart
And the image of your face comes to me when I'm alone in the dark
If I could give a shape to this ache that I have for you
If I could find the voice that says the words that capture you
I think I know, I think I know
I think I know why the dog howls at the moon.

I say:
"Dela! Dela! Ngiyadela!
(Content, content I am content)
When I am with you!
Dela! Sondela mama!
(Closer, closer, come closer mama)
I burn for you!

I've been waiting for you all my life -- hoping for a miracle
I've been waiting day and night -- waiting for redemption
I burn for you!

Friday, Mar. 28, 2003, 1:23 p.m.

It's humid today which isn't at all what I expected from today. Not that I'm saddened - at least it isn't cold. A strange Friday. Normally I am pretty pumped about Friday in general because I have an abundance of things to do and today is no different, except that I woke up hungrier than hell at 6 AM which is completely out of the ordinary for me. I mean I actually had to get up and eat something right that minute. Then I went back to bed, only to wake 2 hours later (my normal time) terribly confused about what day it was and why I had heartburn. I loathe waking up with heartburn. It sucks mightily.

The day hasn't gotten much easier since this morning. I feel majorly overwhelmed by the things that I must do between now and July, both for the baby and for this program I run at school. The program will be moving into a new facility over the summer and I won't be around to make sure that happens the way I want it to and that bugs me. It's important for me to have a hand in every aspect of my program. Some might say that's a little territorial (just try to touch my desk!!), but I say it makes life much easier for me when I can answer questions with confidence. I need to know where everything is and how it got there and why.

Come to think of it, maybe that's my problem with my house. I don't always know or like where things are. There's so much stuff that it gets piled and stuffed. And it's usually me who has done the piling and the stuffing. Hmmm....

Now that's a point to ponder.