Sunday, March 26, 2006
What is also a load of tosh is the 'second trimester glow'. So far, while it's a definite improvement over the first, I'm still absolutely laid-out exhausted all the time and am beginning to be out of balance and unwieldy. Also moody, touchy and argumentative. And unwilling to cook, clean or pluck my eyebrows, all of which I have forced myself to do this weekend.
Some days I spend the whole day and don't even think about being pregnant. Most days it's just a fact of life, like having a backache... which I do... all the time...
What would really work for me would be a gallon of coffee or a strong martini. Without the fun bits removed...
It’s like the end of the world, nothing matters, anything could happen, nothing is real, meaning is shifted, glass turns to butter.
And things, events and things, they find their way into this bog of time and stick there, clustering together in my weeks, cluttering up my evenings, covering my days until there’s no space left. They force time into order, the clickety clock of things lining up to be done, alarms, deadlines, telephones, friends, traffic, meetings, dinners, lists of lists and there’s time treading all over me again.
Wednesday, March 22, 2006
I'd write more but I'm singularly un-inspired. I seem to be surrounded by other pregnant women and I'd like to have a conversation that doesn't circle around the contents of my womb or the size of my new comedy boobs.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
I imagine the inside of D's head as one big organised filing cabinet full of important stuff and one equally big shredder full of all the rest. He accesses the shredder as if it were a secondary filing system and comes up with random, unrelated items when searching in there for something he was told several times a few days ago.
I am incubating his son. I cannot begin to imagine the rest of my life.
More diary excerpts:
Week 11: This has been another interim week – I still can’t tell people and am desperate to tell my parents. January is over and my excuse of having a month of de-tox has worn out – now my friends will view my continued abstinence and healthy life-style as distinct symptoms of pregnancy, it will be hard to disguise it.
Week 12: this is the last week of the secret phase of the pregnancy – nearly, at any rate. Within 2 weeks we will know if this is going to work and will be able to tell everyone, or we will know that things have gone wrong and we are back to the start. I can see it would get progressively harder and harder to keep losing pregnancies. You spend all this time with big changes in the body, encouraging scan photographs and hopes, you get a deadline and you begin, even if subconsciously, to plan your life around this date. When things go wrong, all sorts of dates become anniversaries – the midwives appointment, the 20 week scan, the telling people – all those things become ghosts, they leap out of the calendar and go ‘boo’ and things become a little more grey. We had the scan and told my family this week before the results came through because the doctors were so positive.
Week 14: It's a boy.
I wrote this when I was 6 week pregnant. I'll put in a few more of these randomly.
All the time now I catch myself imagining what you will think about us as we are now – about the apartment which you probably won’t remember, about our car, the cat, our clothes, the furniture. Thinking back to my own childhood, it all seems so remote, so dated and I know that’s what this will all seem like to you – another time, the time before you were born.When the dinosaurs roamed free.
It doesn't help that at the moment I am pregnant and therefore the jungle in my head is particularly dense and eliptical. I am too old to be pregnant. My body is protesting. My mind would protest if only it could organise itself to print up the signs and set picket lines. My eyes are beginning to see things that are not there and the things that are there sometimes shift as though reality was printed on silk and someone is breathing behind it.
This is a test.