Birth

So.

So.

He was born. I am a mother. I gave birth.

June 17. 3.22pm.

And now I can say, never think you know what you're talking about, because most likely, you don't.

Birth is a humbling experience.

Here is my story (the abridged version):

My water broke around 2am on June 16. I knew it had "broken" because I heard a small "pop" and had read that I would hear this. However, there was no gush. Just a trickle that continued throughout the night. At around 6am I woke my guy up and told him in an excited whisper that it was happening. Labor had started. Except, I had no contractions. We agreed he would go to work and I would see how the day went. I was nervous as once one's water breaks then you are on the clock, so to speak, and I wanted to make sure the contractions started.

Cut to: Around 1pm my guy came home and we tried nipple stimulation. Then, I drank Castor Oil. And then, the beasts of contractions started. I remember at my hypno-birthing course we were told that contractions were better (and more appropriately) known as "surges". All good in theory, however I prefer the word "ice pick in my uterus" (a.k.a. IPIMU). Then, I emptied out everything in my colon and then in my stomach. It was not pretty. So, I started having IPIMU's around 3pm so we got in the car and picked up the doula, Paula.

Cut to: I am writhing in pain and we arrive at the hospital only to find out I am only 2cm dilated and the natural birthing room I had my heart set on was possibly unavailable. They sent us out to walk around. So, we walked to the beach (the hospital is right on the beach) and watched the sunset and every few minutes I would stop walking and hunch over in agony. It was surprisingly painful.

Cut to: We arrive back at this hospital and now I am only 3cm dilated, but they let us into the natural birthing room (on the way I throw up again). They were not going to admit us to the natural birthing room but my guy really argued for me and they figured it out. So, we walk into this room and immediately I begin to feel better. I love this room. Big double bed and candles and an en suite bath and shower. Note: this was about 8pm. So i immediately get into the shower and don't care that I am naked and the doula is in there with me. The shower doesn't really help the IPIMU's.

Cut to: It's 5am. Previously the doula had mentioned that she sometimes agreed with people before labor that the code word for "epidural" would be "peanut butter", so she could talk about it with the client during labor and not have the hospital staff be put out. In any event, it's 5am and I find out I am only 5cm dilated and I cry "peanut butter". Well, I didn't really, I cried out, "I need an epidural". The doula asked if I really wanted it, but after looking into my eyes, my guy knew to take me seriously. We immediately were transferred to the "normal" room. I said good bye to the amazing midwife we had, and was wheeled out.

Cut to: The regular room sucked. There was nowhere for anybody to sit. It had bad lighting and was tiny. However, I had the epidural and for a good few hours I was happy. I was numb. I would have an IPIMU and not know it. HOWEVER, this was short lived. The epidural was wearing off on one side and so I started feeling those m**ther f*&kers again. And then I just wanted to MAKE IT STOP. I was wishing (secretly) for a c-section. Anything to put me out of my misery.

Cut to: Around 12pm in the afternoon and I was finally 10cms. This very Israeli hard core midwife kept telling me to push and pull my numb legs up but pulling a "dead" leg is not easy. And, I was in real pain. I was like, I don't get it, why is the epidural not working? I felt like I had been cheated. They give me Pitocin to speed things up.

Cut to: I guess around 2.45pm or so they tell me I need a vacuum delivery as it has been too long. That said, the constant thump of my baby's heart was consistent and we knew he was OK. I will never forget the eerie sound of the heart monitor all those hours. They told my guy and the doula to leave the room and about five other people rushed in. It was a strange sight and a little alarming. I didn't care though as I knew the end was in sight.

Cut to: I know they have a vacuum type thing they are using and all of a sudden I feel his head come out and then they say, OK, push the shoulders out now. And I do. And then they held him upside down and I saw a shock of black hair and quite frankly, I will never forget that image. I was in complete awe that this little being had been inside me. They called my guy back in and he cut the chord and then they whisked the baby to a bench and weighed and measured him. Then wrapped him up and brought him to me and I held him and then put him to my breast and he appeared to feed on it for a little bit.

Cut to: The damn placenta. That hurt. They pushed on my tummy and pulled it out. Meanwhile I found out they had cut me and so had to stitch me up. Which HURT. And then they had to put a catheter in me. Which HURT. Then my guy went with the baby to get checked in the nursery.

And there is more, but that's enough of the story.

So, here I am four weeks later. The birth was a very traumatic event for me. One of the most in my life. I have never experienced pain like that. My guy was amazing and breath taking and I am truly lucky to have had him by my side. But, it was as if I was ripped open. Emotionally. That birth altered who I am.

So all my months of talking about a "natural birth" and here I am. I had so many interventions. So I am humbled. I did labor naturally for as long as I could. I think if I had been dilated more I would have stuck at it, but by 5am I was too exhausted to keep going without the epidural. Did I feel like I failed? No. I did what I did. I wanted it to be different, but now I see what everyone was telling me- the birth isn't that important. I mean, it is on a profound level, but not in terms of how I gave birth. I wish he wasn't vacuumed out of me. I wish I wasn't cut. I wish wasn't given the drugs. But, it is what it is.

And now I have this being. And these four weeks have been really hard. And do I feel like I have bonded with him? More and more, but not as much as I thought. I don't think I expected him to come out so defined in terms of him being him. He is who he is and he doesn't feel like MY son, but a being I am helping into the world.

And, if I think back to that moment of seeing his little body for the first time with that head full of dark hair then yes, I am overcome.

Right now though, I am praying he sleeps for another half an hour.

Welcome son.

You are wanted and loved.

Countdown

I suppose I should write considering that this child could come any minute now and then I won't be the pregnant woman anymore, but the one with a baby. So, perhaps this is one of my last postings as a pregnant woman (and until I am pregnant again), or perhaps I will find the energy to write again.

Horrible night last night. I have a feeling his arrival is imminent and last night I was tossing and turning and feeling cramps. Added to this, I have a bad cold and so had to swap sides all night so I could breathe. Added to this, I am coughing a lot and read somewhere that coughing can start labor! So, I am trying to cough in a subdued manner. Bizarrely, the last two nights I have woken up many times to the sound of my own moaning in my sleep! Very strange. I think I go into some kind of mini-labor at night but then wake up and it goes away.

All this to say, I feel like crap. I get why women talk about these last few days/weeks as some of the most difficult. Maybe not as difficult as those first months for me (the horror), but hard in a different way. Right now, he is technically due in 11 days (the 24th), however I am thinking that around the 21st/22nd, if he hasn't come by then, I will try and kick start it. I plan to walk a lot and possibly drink castor oil to get labor going. I am not that worried about going a week past my due date, but anything more will make me nervous as I do not want to get induced.

Now that I am sick I keep telling the little guy to WAIT. But last night in my dreamless, moaning state, I was convinced he was coming. It's a strange place to be. I know all women have gone through these last few weeks always vigilant to the signs of labor...

I mostly just feel rotten. Tired. Heavy. Precarious.

And sometimes I get freaked out at the thought of my life never being the same again. There was me. Now there is me and another person forever linked. It's different than a romantic relationship, this one is indelible. And I worry about ever being spontaneous again. About how I will logistically operate in the world now.

And I also worry about the baby being born healthy and those initial few weeks....

Anyway. It's a train that has left the station. As I sit here and write I feel cramps again...

No poetic words. My life is about to get real. No longer a girl. Time to be a woman.

He will come when he is ready. When our bodies align. When the timing is right.

Until then, I will moan about feeling all kinds of strange things.

Strange times

Note to self: do not read stupid vampire books which describe the pregnancy of a woman giving birth to a half vampire/half human baby. I have stopped reading and turned to an old copy of the New Yorker for sweet relief from the blood drinking vampire baby breaking the heroine's bones inside her.

That said, there is definitely a larger than life creature in here. When I look at first born photos I am amazed at how big the babies are. It is crazy to think I have a seven pound baby nestled inside me right now. I can't help but think he is going nuts in there all cramped and claustrophobic, but I guess he doesn't know any different.

Strange times now. Every day I wonder if this will be the day? The other day I was lying in bed and I projectile vomited into a nearby t-shirt. Lovely. For the rest of the day I felt nauseous and started to think this was one of the first signs of labor, ignoring the fact that I just ate two sandwiches with smoked salmon heaped on them. Then yesterday I started feeling mild cramps and started thinking, oh, maybe now?

So every day I am awaiting. I try and sit on the couch and listen to relaxing music to quell my anxiety. He will come when he comes. I will enjoy being a good mother to him. He will be a cute baby. It's difficult though. On the precipice of something so big.

Meanwhile, I bought him his first books yesterday. It was a cool feeling. Knowing that I was going to contribute to this little one's life. I have the responsibility of teaching and loving. My favorite of all books: "Why I Love My Daddy". I can't wait for my guy to read it to him.

It's the small things.

I'm next

A few months ago I met three other pregnant women by way of a pregnancy group that for various reasons we didn't end up attending. Instead though, we formed a friendship. All at different stages of pregnancy. I think I was around 25 weeks or so, maybe more at that point. A month ago, one of the women gave birth. And, last night another did. So, I'm next! The other woman has a couple of months to go. It has been wonderful knowing these new friends but even more so, fascinating to watch us all go through our various birth rites of passage one after the other. It seems that once one has given birth they are completely on the other side of the fence. That momentous occasion has occurred and life will never be the same. Meanwhile, I am still here, without a child, not a mother, but a fat woman with a very large tummy. However, in the space of one to three weeks, I will be on the other side.

My birth doula said something that resonated with me the other day. She said that giving birth, "is only one day of your life". And we spend these nine months frantically trying to prepare for it, but then it goes in a blink of an eye. I know my friend who gave birth a month ago barely registers the birth now, so preoccupied as she is with her beautiful new daughter. It's so existential. All so fleeting.

Anyway, I await, never ready, for his arrival. These days seem imbued with a potent feeling. I need to go to the DMV for my guy today. He says, you can go next week? But these days I can't take those kind of chances. Next week I may have a newborn? So strange waiting for the moment. But once it comes, I will be in it.

My friend who gave birth last night sent a text saying that "epidurals are wonderful". Every night these days I wake up with horrible back pain and I think to myself, will I be able to do it? I don't know. I really don't.

Bodies

OK, so, a yeast infection, now a hemorrhoid and 50 pounds. Pregnancy is brilliant. I don't understand why there are so many nuances that can go wrong with our bodies when this is supposed to be "natural". OK, so I am not a believer in the bible, but lord, maybe we are being punished for that damn apple? All the guy has to do is....

I just feel lovely.

Saw another doctor the other day who also rammed (although more gently than the last one) a hand inside me and confirmed that the head was indeed low. However, I had an ultrasound yesterday and the woman said that he wasn't that low. She also confirmed that the little thing was seven pounds! (3.1 kilos). And I am only 37 weeks! So, all I can do is pray he doesn't grow too much in the next few weeks.

Getting more nervous every day. How will I find out I am in labor? Will my waters gush in a cafe? Will I get the "bloody show"? How much is it going to hurt? Oh yeah, A LOT. I was reading someone's blog post the other day and they said that labor felt like an ice pick in her uterus. Nice.

Soon enough I will be posting here and the story will have unfolded. And I can guarantee that the story I post will be different than the "story" in my head. Until then, I try and visualize what I hope. That I will have a slow and gentle start to labor. That our doula will come over and let us know the right time to drive to the hospital. We will arrive at the hospital and the natural birthing room will be available. I will set up my iPod and lower the lighting and take showers and breath and not panic. And eventually, he will come. Healthy.

For now, I will try and work out my hemorrhoid cream instructions.

Very low

So, I went to the doctor yesterday. It was not a great experience. I want to say the doctors here suck, but doctors suck all over the world. What I miss is any kind of tenderness. Any awareness that it is another person's body they are tampering with. Not a conglomeration of skin and cells to be meddled with. I say this because I had asked the doctor to take a look at my pee-exhausted nether regions to make sure all looked normal and healthy. I have been peeing every ten minutes or so lately and I have felt quite raw. So, I put my legs up in those insane stirrups (they don't use the stirrups in Australia or the U.S. to my recollection) and he jams/rams/slams his hand (although it feels like an arm) up inside me. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And it also hurt because I wasn't ready for this "assault" and as I had said, the whole area is tender and sensitive. As he squirmed inside he said, "The baby's head is very low, very low".

After he took his hand/arm out he again repeated the verdict. And, "You will deliver before your delivery date. Very soon probably".

I ambled back to the chair almost in tears. Why? More because of the sense of invasion I felt. Of my own corporeal privacy and the privacy of the baby itself. It didn't need its head felt by this man. It was a strange feeling. The realness of it all hit home. There was something in me and it has to come out. And his little head can be felt inside me, ready, waiting to come out...

I emailed the woman who I hope to have as my birth doula when I returned home. Eager to seek comfort in a more gentle wisdom. She told me that the head being low isn't necessarily a indicator and women can even deliver late even if the head is "engaged". I went online and found a lot which asserts this also.

So, so, now I am not sure what to think except that I don't feel ready, however will I ever?

This is life. No control. Never ready for what is next. And again, who would have thought, this day a year ago I would meet the father of this baby? Not me. I was walking slowly to the cafe where I would end up meeting him, lethargic, annoyed, not really paying attention to the foot prints I was leaving in the brown dust road. Foot prints. Feet, that would take me to
him
and the
"very low" head
inside
me.

Instant

There seems to be less and less to say. Now reality becomes wordless. Time is approaching. Whether I like it or not, at some point in the next four weeks (or maybe six if he is late), I will give birth. It's difficult not to be apprehensive. I don't even know what I am scared of? I guess the pain, but more the fear of things going "wrong". And then lately I get hit with the sense that something really radical is about to happen and I don't even know how radical it is. But, I am also scared of my life changing in a way that impedes movement. On the one hand I am so excited to enter this new part of life, and on the other hand, I am nervous about how life changes. No more just rushing out to do what I want when I want. No more deciding to go to a movie on a whim with my guy. No more lazing around in bed on a Sunday morning. Yeah, yeah, this is nothing new. And I know that when it happens it just happens and life is like that. We anticipate the future and then the future comes and then we are like, oh, here I am.

So, I am nervous. Things seem strange. Every time I go to the bathroom I look for this mysterious "bloody show". Is he going to come early? Will my water break when I am sitting in a cafe? And my lord, when he moves these days he hurts! The other night I was up half the night walking around to put him to sleep, and he isn't even born!

This past Friday we went and looked at another hospital. We sat in a room with fifteen other pregnant women and their partners waiting for the "tour guide". I, of course, immediately remarked that I seemed "fatter than the other women". It's a mystery to me how women can keep their skinny arms and legs while pregnant. In any event, the "tour" was in Hebrew and my guy translated. The tour guide woman was hard core and was pretty much against everything we believe in regarding natural birth. So, we are not giving birth there.

Anyway. Doctor tonight so will see what the progress of all things baby is. The room is set up. My hospital bag packed. I feel calm in some ways, panicked in others. Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of me and my guy. How life can change
in
an
instant.

This time last year while living in Costa Rica I was being badgered by my friend to come to a cafe where her friend worked. I finally relented. The next day I walked in. He was sitting there. My friend introduced us. I shook his hand and was like, "Oh, here he is". And,
here
I
am.

Closer

The other day me and my guy went to check out a hospital. It had two natural birthing rooms which I wanted to see specifically. The room itself was great. Clean and comfortable and with an adjoining bath and shower. I could see myself getting comfortable in the room. Unfortunately, the rest of the hospital wasn't so great. It seemed rather drab and a little weird to me. But then, I think all hospitals are weird. It was a strange experience. It is strange for me to think of giving birth in a hospital. It doesn't seem intuitive. Like, I should be giving birth in my bed. Or at home at the very least. Like somehow it is just some big, bad terrifying menstrual period and I should just be where I feel comfortable.

But, no. The hospital is where I will go for my first child. We are seeing another one on Friday.

All getting stranger and stranger. It's like, really? You mean I really have to get this thing out? And the bigger he gets (and the more painful his movements are), the more I freak out at this prospect.

Now his room is organized and my hospital bag packed. It seems out of character to me for me to be this organized in advance, however it gives me some peace, some sense of control. Now, at the first sign of labor, I can sink into it knowing that I have prepared and there is order to my life and to his first entry into the world.

Of course, the more I know, the less I know, and

anything

can

happen....

Dreams

So, welcome. Welcome to anxiety, my newish friend. I have now entered a new pregnancy phase. Anxiety. It isn't really focused on anything in particular, but generally around the birth and the bizarre fact that I will be having a baby.

Last night I had a dream I was in a baby store buying a glass for my baby (lord knows why a baby would ever need a glass?) and I am holding it in my hand when the store person grabs it out of my hand and gives it to someone else. I am in shock and start saying that I had the glass first and it was for my baby and she said, well, I gave it to this woman and there is another store (which was miles away in the dream) I can get another glass in. But, I was so angry! And I started crying and shouting, no, I had the glass first!

It was not a good dream and perhaps a reflection of my anxious state of mind.

So, here he is. Inside still. Figuring out in his own time when that symbiotic dance of childbirth will begin. I have five weeks to go in an ideal world. I am 35 weeks today. It seems so tenuous this process. So riddled with complication. And the promise of pain so fruitful.

And I have no control over what will happen. None.

Ramblings...

Many thoughts, many observations...

Today, finally, I saw a foot doctor. I have an inflamed foot, possibly a stress fracture, from all the weight. Nothing to be done about it except not to walk on it. So, what can I say? It happens to feel a little better these past few days which makes me happy. Otherwise, still with the heart racing, hot flush, difficulty breathing moments and I have resigned myself to this as technically, I have less than six weeks to go of this horror.

In other news, me and my guy (yes, he is now, "my guy", for want of a better term), went to see my friend's one week old baby. Firstly, the baby was so absolutely gorgeous. So tiny and a head full of dark hair. Secondly, the full reality of birth and what's to come hit me like a punch. I am starting to get scared about the birth. The way women talk about it. Like this pain that sends them into another universe. I just can't imagine it! I mean, what I do imagine is really bad period pain. The kind that had me crawled into a fetal position on my bed. Is that it? Or is it way worse so that as my friend did, you "scream like a banshee". Or was it "wail"? And this little thing that comes out. It seems so small, yet it is this perfectly formed human. I can't believe I have one of those inside me?!

Coupled with this experience, my guy and I were generously lent a smorgasbord of baby accouterments from his cousin. We now have toys, more clothes, breast pump, baby bjorn, car seat and crib and stroller to come. It was amazing. Yesterday I went through the toys and it was weird. For the first time, as I was picking and choosing, I was picking the toys I believed would be good for my child. It was kind of cool. Always I was responsible for other peoples' children. Now, my own. I am responsible for this human being. As I put the few toys I collected onto his second shelf (the first with his clothes), I shed a tear. It hit me a little. Again. The reality.

However, that said, the other day I went into a depression, thinking that maybe I will cause pain to my child and that maybe I made the wrong decision in having him? Maybe me and my guy will never feel comfortable living in each others countries? Maybe this little child will have a wounded heart one day? And maybe I will be the cause? All I can do, is hope for the best. That this child will be adventurous and brave and happy to be a child of different cultures. He is privileged. He has Israel, Australia and America to live in. He has choice.

And I have choice.

So, for now, I choose Israel and my guy and this little being, almost baked,

to perfection.

The quest

Well, tomorrow I will have six weeks to go and it feels like I am in some mythic journey where towards the end of the quest there is some horrible dragon I have to fight, just when I thought I could see the golden treasure. Yesterday my blood sugar tested very high and so this morning I had to get tested to see if I may have (at this late stage), gestational diabetes. This is not cool for so many reasons. The main one being that the baby may get too big and then I would have to get induced as he may have to come early. The eating I can manage. It's just the anxiety of yet another configuration of this pregnancy to deal with.

Meanwhile, no bananas for me now as even though I apparently need the potassium (which was tested again today), I can't have the sugar. So, things are great. Ah hem.

Finally seeing a foot doctor on Monday for this bizarre painful foot.

So yeah, it just feels quite arduous right now. I have been told that once I have the baby I will feel almost normal. I am excited for this. I am excited for this more than I am excited for the baby. But, I know it will still be a slow and unexpected recovery.

I will fight the dragon and hope that there are no more beasts I have to contend with, although of course I still have to plunge into icy waters and somehow hold my breath while I figure out where the damn treasure is, all the while being chased by some green fanged monsters. When I finish, what will the treasure be?

A shout out

A few weeks ago my boyfriend and I made it "official". Here in Israel you can obtain a card which provides that you are De facto. It is pretty cool. It is for any De facto couple, straight or not. We just went in and signed some documents stating we were in fact living together etc, and we received a credit card sized acknowledgment of our status. So, now he is not my boyfriend, but my partner. But, I am not sure I like the word "partner"? Maybe he is my "boyner" or my "parfriend", oh wait, my "parboy". Whatever he is, he is pretty cool and every day and more and more I am feeling so grateful that not only is he in my life, but that he will be the father of my child.

Yup, pretty lucky. And this kid. He is going to be so lucky to have him as the father (the jury is out on me as a mother).

So now me and the "one I love" (a.k.a. OIL) will wait...7 more weeks...

Yes, that's it, me and my Oil.

Potassium depletion

In yet another effort to figure out what has been going wrong with my body, we went to a new doctor last night. He, finally, took my symptoms seriously and sent me along to the ER at the local hospital. Three hours later and no real answers. I have low potassium and my blood sugar was high. I have read a bit about low potassium and that may explain my heart racing situation (and my limp). For now, all I can do is eat bananas and wait and see what is next. It is exhausting.

The final injustice was that just as we were about to leave the night shift nurses came on duty. And well, one of these night shift nurses was nine months pregnant! I felt like such a light weight. Here she was, huge and working the night shift! So, I have now been silenced. Well...

So another day feeling awful. Today officially I have 7 weeks to go. What can I say? I am depleted by this experience. Who knew about potassium? I swear.

Bananas I am and bananas I will eat.

The baby next door

The baby next door cries CONTINUALLY. Rarely is there a respite. I don't want this kind of baby. I live in an apartment building and often there is crying on all sides. It isn't newborn baby crying. More like 6 month to one year old crying. It makes me crazy. And in these moments I think uh oh.

I hope my baby is not a crying one. Sometimes I look at babies or small children and think that they came out unhappy. They didn't really want to be here...I hope mine wants to be here.

Right now as the time gets closer and closer (7 weeks tomorrow), I feel more alien toward the fetus rather than more loving (apropos my last entry). He hiccups non-stop and his movements are still there banging against something or rather, but I still don't feel so connected. One thing I attribute to this is the last 3D scan. I think the image looked so foreign to me that I really didn't feel related to this being at all.

And sometimes I think, OK he will be a cute baby but then he will be a smelly teenager and a man I may or may not like. I think we put too much emphasis on this sacred mothering. Like the bond is untouchable and at least when they are babies we can have an absolute relation to them, although we all know with our own parents that it becomes tainted.

I do know, looking about at adult friends of mine, that the more unconditional love they receive, the stronger they are in the world. I guess that's what it comes down to. And so I guess I will have to give it up to mother nature and oxytocin and hope I "bond" with the little guy.

I think for me it is more difficult to feel the connection when I feel so bad in my body. Another doctor tonight to see if we can figure out the heart racing/fainting thing and another doctor to check out my still painful and limping foot. I try not to "blame" the fetus. It isn't his fault my body isn't wired for pregnancy. And we don't choose to be born...

It's all very complicated, but I have a feeling that when he comes out, it will all be very simple. Very simple.

No judgment

So it begins. Yesterday in a childbirth course class I had my first taste of the overwhelming guilt of motherhood. The charge? That I wasn't "connecting" or talking enough to my baby in the womb. It's true. Unlike the couple in my class who insist on "om-ing" to their baby to "calm" him every night, I have been heard to call my baby a "motherf**ker", especially when he gives me a big jab to some nerve or other. Do I think he can hear me? Well, no, not really. I mean, he can hear my voice, but I doubt he knows what a motherf**ker is (and this is not exactly a regular occurrence). Notwithstanding that, I feel strongly that I should be allowed to have whatever "relationship" I want with my unborn child.

A lot of people talk about how they love their unborn child. The truth is, I can't honestly say I love my unborn son right now. I mean, I care about his well-being. For sure. I am excited to meet him for sure. And, I am touched by his presence. But, I don't feel love per se. I mean, I don't know him. I feel like I can't quite love him right now.

And, I don't want to be judged for this. Like, I am a bad mother already! When I swear when he hits his foot somewhere, I am not self conscious that I am being an unloving mother. There is a difference between swearing to this fetus and swearing to a real live baby (which I would never do). I do strongly believe there is a difference.

Also, I don't want to be made to feel bad because I don't have little chats with this little thing telling him how he is welcome in the world blah blah blah. I have tried a couple of times, but for me it feels artificial. Even the tone of my voice seems forced. "Hi little one", in a high pitched voice. Nope. It doesn't work.

Look, I am sure I am going to adore the little guy. But for now, I want to have the freedom to make my own choices about my relationship to him in the womb. He is coming into a family of absolute love. I am not concerned. So, no judgment.

No judgment.

Boo

I was wondering this morning, whether you can "scare" a fetus into stopping hiccuping?! I swear, this little guy is a hiccuping machine. It was cute, but now not so much. It's like I am having the hiccups, although a more subtle version. I can shout all of a sudden "boo" and see if he stops? I won't. Not only does he have no idea what "boo" means, I don't know if womb noise perpetrates such a loud noise, and besides, I don't want to scare the little thing. Not a good way to start motherhood.

But, what is a good way? Right now I don't feel so good about myself. I am not working and my sense of identity is withering away. It is very important for me to be a strong role model for my son. Now I am not studying Hebrew a chasm of time has seemed to open up. And I don't want to lie around watching TV (although ultimately this is what I feel like doing mostly since I feel so awful physically).

I want to write, But write what? How to reinvent myself?

I will start yoga again on Thursday. Today I have lunch with my pregnant friends (who I call "the possy") who I now adore. And then I will make my wonderful guy some dinner. That's it for now.

Boo.

I said it softly.

Quit

Today I am a tangled mess of bleakness. I had to quit my Hebrew language course as it was getting too difficult for me. It seems I have miscellaneous afflictions. The doctor can't point to anything in particular and has relegated me to "third trimester" issue person. But, I can't help but think there is something more going on. Lately, more often than not I feel like my heart is racing, I start sweating and feel faint a little. The only thing that helps is lying down. Even typing on my computer makes it worse. So my discomfort was amplified sitting in a class room half the day. However, I am depressed about it as I was enjoying learning Hebrew. I need to learn Hebrew. And as much as I found the 21 year old's in the class beyond annoying ("I don't understand, why does Israel have three emergency numbers and not one like in the United States? Please explain teacher as this is very important to know..."), I was liking the routine and really liking learning. So yeah, I am sad and feel a bit like a failure.

To add to my distress, I cannot walk on one of my feet. I believe years ago I had a tiny hairline fracture that is now compromised due to the weight gain. Now it hurts to step on it and I am limping everywhere. Not good for a fat pregnant woman who needs all the exercise she can get! I am seeing the foot doctor on Wednesday.

So allow me to feel sad a bit today. My body is a mess. I now have to postpone studying Hebrew. And mostly I still just feel like lying on the couch to alleviate my symptoms.

9 weeks to go and

counting

counting

counting...

Floating

The other day I went to a pregnancy water "exercise" class. It was heaven. The "exercise" was just running about in a circle in the water and stretching for ten minutes. The bliss came when we put our knees and shoulders under those floating noodle things and just lay back and floated in the water. Pure bliss. Then the teacher came over and sort of swayed us side to side. It was a cool feeling because I could imagine for a minute what the little thing may be feeling inside me. The constant temperature and the muffled voices from the outside. And the stillness. Although I am a little confused about how gravity affects him in there. Like, does he fall slowly to the other side of my womb when I turn over in bed?

I found out the other day that his head is right smack bang on my bladder. The doctor was like, "Oh, I see this must be difficult for you". Ah, YES. I never knew that going to the bathroom could be such a central part of my life.

The doctor also said that my baby was "normal" sized now. I guess he caught up with himself. I was pleased to hear this. Relieved. He still could grow big in the next couple of months, but at least he is not two weeks bigger than his due date.

So, that's my current life. Rushing to the bathroom. Still feeling faint and sweaty after eating. My other foot now hurts. Two months to go.

I just want to float and float and float.

Childbirth courses and more

So, my boyfriend and I attended our first childbirth class on the weekend. It was interesting. Not so much for the content, but mainly to be forced to recognize that we are actually having a baby. We were sitting in a group of four other couples at varying degrees of pregnancy. It was comforting yet odd. It is a strange thing that one singular generic (but special) event can bring people together. In any event, the class we are taking is called a "Hypnobirthing" class, however it doesn't really focus on the "hypno" element. Its central premise is that fear in childbirth leads to adrenalin which leads to one's muscles constricting and the uterus receiving less blood, which then leads to hospital intervention. The class focuses on breathing and relaxation (and visualization, but less my cup of tea), in order to help a person feel less fear and be with the pain, so to speak. And the theory continues that once one intervention is needed in an hospital environment, a domino affect is ignited.

Ever the diligent student, I raced home to read the course book and read it cover to cover. It didn't really say anything new per se (I have read a lot already!), but did center and ground me on what needs to be done if I want to attempt to have a natural birth. The best part about the lesson was the aftermath when my boyfriend proclaimed that we were going to have a home birth!

Then, yesterday, I watched the Ricki Lake documentary, "The Business of Being Born". Apart from crying every time I saw a baby being born (I blame my hormones going into overdrive), I loved it as it was saying everything I have been ruminating about since I have been pregnant. It was basically a huge endorsement for natural birth and the film witnesses a few women having pretty "easy" births. It is always surreal to watch them moaning and yelling. It freaks me out! But, the endorphin/oxytocin high they seem to get once the baby is born looks pretty cool. I do recommend this film- just to get an overview of how childbirth was treated in the past and how it is now treated.

Which all brings me to, I am still up for it (natural childbirth, that is). That said, again, I give the disclaimer that it is academic to some degree to want this right now. In some ways the intention is very important. If I set out to have a natural birth maybe I can enact some of the relaxation techniques? Maybe I can just be calm and "be with the pain"? This process is different from other pain as there is not only a beginning and an end, but the end is complete with a baby. Who am I? Am I capable of such an act? Do I have the inner resources? The physical strength?

Mostly, as a result of watching the video, it hit home that a real, live baby was going to come out of me. For some reason, this thought has been the most elusive to me. Pregnancy has merely been a physical condition, rather than the baking of a baby.

30 weeks. 10 weeks to go (in an ideal world).

What will happen?

The weight of weight (again)

OK, so it is a known fact that I am overly preoccupied with my weight. However, I would now like to point out that it seems that I have, more or less, put on 50 pounds. 50 POUNDS! That is almost a whole other person. And I still have ten weeks to go. Maybe this justifies my anxiety?

It is painful to me. I don't know how to stop eating. I say, OK, today is the last day I will eat this or that. And then the next day I repeat the eating. It's like I have given up. Yet, I am still mortified at the weight. Again, it is vain I know. Something larger than life is occurring right now. I am baking a human being. My son. Yet, I can't help but be a little heartbroken.

Everyone dismisses this feeling I have. Oh, you're pregnant, don't worry. Oh, you look great (those that say that are either deluded or have never met me in my pre-pregnancy state). It doesn't help. Why oh why can't someone please say to me, yeah honey, it sucks and it is hard to get off too so I get why you are feeling unhappy about this.

It is the loss of control I hate. I used to love eating the food I ate. The green juices and the raw food. I believe that part of the problem for me is accessibility here in Israel and also having a partner in crime living with me. If it was me alone I could probably discipline myself a little more. However, in line with the theory that I am emotionally eating, I take gratification in pigging out with my boyfriend. It doubles my pleasure. He wants to lose weight however. And we both need to. I just feel like I can't do this anymore. Something has broken in me a little. My lifestyle which was so blissfully sustaining previously is somehow completely and utterly elusive to me right now.

The clothes I buy are bigger and bigger and I shower in the dark. My pregnant belly is smaller than my pregnant behind. I swear. And it's only going to get worse...

I feel a bit sad about this today. Maybe it is vanity, but it is also my vitality. I had muscles and strength and energy. My body was toned and flexible. Now my latest ailment is that my foot hurts. Why? Because there is new weight on it and I have flat feet blah blah. I read about it this morning. Aside from wearing orthopedics, I have to suck it up. So now my fat self walks with a limp.

A limp.

*sigh*

Two phases

I have noticed, that this new life contains two stages: pregnancy and after pregnancy. And, there does not seem to be much overlap between the stages. Of course that's an obvious assertion, however what I mean by that is that once a woman has given birth she is now welcomed into a whole new set of language and preoccupations. She has forever left the "pregnancy" group and in fact, can barely relate to it. I see this all the time. Friends that are pregnant and then give birth just seem to disappear off the face of the universe, for a time. Once they come back to the "real world" they are forever altered. What they understand, I cannot.

So, it's interesting. Right now I am on the edge of this new group, however giving birth is like dying, it cannot be known until experienced in that moment. Often lately I dream of my baby in various forms, however in each dream I have already given birth. My unconscious cannot even envision the process. And so I half envy these women who have already given birth. They have finished with this whole nine months business of exhaustion and morphing and not only have they given birth, but they have a real, live baby.

When you are pregnant (well, with your first), it is pretty impossible to imagine a live baby at the end of this. I know with all my pregnant friends, we wander around in a kind of daze. Half preparing, but half claiming our prior lives (the only ones we have known so far). We cannot anticipate this next step. No matter how hard we try.

The other day I was at a friend's place and she was offering me (very generously), some of her baby stuff for us to borrow. The whole thing felt surreal. What was I going to do with a baby bath? Baby cot etc? It was almost comical. Me taking it as if I was ever going to need it? Me? Why? Oh yeah, I am pregnant.

This whole thing continues to be weird.

And, last night he was hiccuping. I know it. So strange. Too strange to even be cute.

Who is he?

And just as importantly, who am I now? I am the pregnant phase woman, soon to be the after-birth phase woman.

Complaining again

So, nobody ever tells you that keeping a bikini line in shape is pretty much impossible when pregnant. I have just returned from a very unsuccessful wax. The point is, I can't see a thing. It is kind of bizarre. It's like there's a whole area of my body which is now, visually, a mystery (unless I look into the mirror with my bad eyesight and try and make out what's going on). I know it's vain, but yet another item of physical discomfort along with the myriad of other disfigurements.

And what else is happening these days? Well, five kilos in one month for one (a lovely portion of 10-12 pounds). In one month! Lord almighty. My arms are as big as my thighs used to be. And yeah, yeah, I will lose it when I am breast-feeding. Heard that. But, alas, I know it won't really be true for me. I know my body, pregnancy or no. I need five days a week of hard yoga to get anywhere near my old self...

And, the peeing! I can't take it anymore! It's almost impossible to sleep for the constant peeing. I was bad enough before my pregnancy, now it is almost unmanageable. I have to get up at least four or five times a night (on a good night). I have this huge sense of urgency only to have the familiar slow trickle for a second. Nothing really comes out. If it does, I consider it a success. It's not fun. Not fun.

One more thing, the weight. Not the fat, but the heaviness. I am starting to feel so heavy. We live up a slight hill and walking up it takes all my energy. I feel like I am dragging five steel balls behind me. It is such a strange feeling. Getting up from a chair? Not fun. Not fun. Not fun.

So, there's my complaining for the day. All I want is a night where I sleep right through and wake up refreshed. Is that too much to ask?

In other news, I attended my second day of the language course yesterday. I was in the bathroom (of course) and saw another pregnant woman in there. I was immediately excited and exclaimed, "Cool, I am not alone". And she was due two weeks before me and immediately we started talking the "pregnant language" about where we are giving birth and what doctor she saw etc etc. I walked out of the bathroom happy. I wasn't the only one and she was due near the time I am (June 25). Maybe back when I was single, I would have gone to a language school like this and checked to see if there were any cute boys or single friend possibilities, but now all I care about is whether there are any other pregnant women for me to talk to!

Hebrew 101

Today I started an intensive Hebrew language course. The reasons for this are: (a) I will not feel like I am stupid when at a supermarket and will be able to participate in conversations at the dinner table (not my own dinner table that is); (b) I can show my boyfriend that I am genuinely making an effort to assimilate; (c) That I am genuinely desiring to assimilate; and (d) for the benefit of my unborn child. And it is (d) I wish to speak about now.

It is still surreal for me to imagine that one day I will have a son and that son will speak Hebrew (and English). It means that no matter how much I really learn, my son will still have his secret (sod in Hebrew. I learned that today) jokes and conversations with his father. I will be the foreign outsider. It also means that my son will most likely take longer to speak than other kids here as he will be bilingual. But the important thing is, I want to be able to understand him. Help him with his homework. Listen to him play with his friends and understand when they ask me for food.

Still, being pregnant and being in a five day intensive (8am to 1pm) language course is no picnic. Firstly, I was seated by the door so that I could get up to use the bathroom more easily. However, that meant that I was the first woman in my row and therefore the first to be asked how to say something in Hebrew. Not a good situation when my pregnant foggy head was trying to stay awake. At the same time mystified by the constant belly moves my little one is making inside me. I was almost self conscious. You just had to glance over in my direction and if you noticed for one second you could probably see the little ripples of movement. Or maybe I am just feeling it on the inside so intensely it feels like my whole body is gurgling away.

Mostly though it was fun. Finally I am actually learning how to speak the language of this country. It felt empowering, despite the overwhelming fatigue.

Yesterday I was lying in bed in the morning and I saw and felt a foot sticking out. I am pretty sure that's what it was and I was so touched by it I pressed too hard (eager to feel its outline), and it vanished into the murky depths of amniotic fluid. Very cute. A Hebrew foot.

Lila tov yeled. Good night child. Yeah, well, I only learned things phonetically today.

Three stories

New York: I have just come back from a difficult yoga class. I am hot and sweaty and every muscle aches. On my way home I drink a fresh vegetable juice. I shower and put on perfume and some tight pair of jeans (my legs are skinny) and a pretty top. Freshly showered I go meet my boyfriend for some good quality sushi and sake. I drink the sake and it goes to my head a little and I smell my perfume and the taste of alcohol. I feel good and strong and attractive.

Tel Aviv: I sit on the couch with my pregnant belly getting so big that I am beginning to waddle (only just). I am a little sick as I ate too much for breakfast (yet again) and my stomach muscles are aching around the top of my belly. My head is like cotton wool. I am watching "Dr Phil".

New Aviv: I come home after yoga, with a fresh vegetable juice in hand. I am strong again. I fit into all my old clothes. It is a warm day and there is a spring in my step. I open the door and my boyfriend is waiting there with our son. We leave for a a swim and a surf (my boyfriend and I take turns watching the baby while we surf).

Projection

Last night I went with my boyfriend to some family friends of his. We sat around a table and three children under five were making a lot of noise. It was deafening. Besides a frustrated feeling on my own part of the increasing volume, I started feeling the familiar kicks of the little thing in me. He was banging away in there and I thought, oh, the noise must be too much for him also!

On the way home in the car I had a moment of talking to the little thing, i.e., "Don't worry honey the noise is gone now. That was too much for you hey?" To which my boyfriend responded, don't project! I defended myself, no, no, he really started kicking when the noise of the kids started. My boyfriend then said to me that I had no idea why the baby was kicking, or why it was different to him kicking like normal (as he always does when I am sitting), and we shouldn't go down the path projecting our own feelings (i.e, the noise was too loud for me), onto our child. I nodded in agreement. And then internally registered that comment on a deeper level. He was right. It is a slippery slope. I want this child to be unencumbered by my "stuff".

Wise boyfriend.

Sushi encounter

Last night my boyfriend and I went to an "all-you-can-eat" sushi (a pregnant woman's dream minus the fact I can't eat raw fish). The place was a bar and we sat around the counter and I endured the "vegetarian" sushi coming my way. At some point a pretty blond girl came and sat next to us and I quickly realized she was an English speaker. Another beer later (for my boyfriend), she started talking to me and asked where I was from etc etc. She was English and not Jewish, however decided to come to Israel as she "just loves it here". In any event, she told us she was a nanny and then offered her services to us as she mimed patting my belly.

It was strange.

All my life I was that girl. Especially when traveling, I would gain employment as a babysitter and as a nanny all my life (once a live-in nanny in San Francisco). Now, someone was offering their services to me! It was a turning point in my life. And not all good. Instantly I felt old. Oh, I am a mother now and this girl/woman sees me as a "mother" (well, mother-to-be). It was just so surreal and confronting. Why couldn't I embrace this?

As we were walking home I told my boyfriend about my reaction and he was like, well, you are older than her and you are a mother in a minute. It was truly a moment of confrontation and acceptance for me. Am I really one of those women I used to work for? I will engage someone at some stage (I hope), to help me look after my boy. She will walk in full of her own life and hope for the future and form some kind of sweet relationship with my son. I will be half apologetic (guilty for leaving) and concerned but grateful she will be there.

How things change.

Life is full of surprises.

Too much to read

Like everything else, the apprehension of an event is very different from the reality of an event. While I find myself worrying about different questions, most mothers have been there and done that and tell me that I will figure it out. Lately, I have been worried about breast feeding. I have witnessed many women breast feed and have seen many women wince as the baby first attaches to the breast. Eventually it all seems rote, but I do remember the beginnings. And, like everything in pregnancy, what seems like it should be "natural" does not seem to be such a natural process.

I read this book the other day called "The Baby Whisperer", which discusses getting a baby onto a schedule as soon as possible. It talks about how to breast feed and when to breast feed. Then I read another book, "Baby Love" (which is generally fantastic), and it muddies this process by saying "whatever works". The thing is, before I started reading I wasn't so confused, however reading different books has left me with a sense of unease. Am I up to this?

I have convinced my boyfriend that I am pretty confident with babies. That, more or less, is true. However, I do not feel confident with the initial six weeks. I am scared of the sleep deprivation and of the confusion of breast feeding/sleep patterns etc etc. And, I am also scared of how overwhelmingly demanding it will all be.

I think I am going to stop reading for now and let my intuition take the reigns. In this day of saturation of information there is no end to the multitude of differing views. I need to trust myself.

Trust. Faith.

Blurred profiles

Sometimes, I think this is all a dream. I float past a mirror hoping to see the "old me" and am shocked at the swollen profile that confronts me. How often in life does our body mutate (or should I say, transform), in front of us? We take images of pregnancy for granted, however when it is happening it is a dynamic force. There is nothing I can do to stop the process unraveling. Whether I like it or not, this baby is growing inside me. I am pregnant.

It still feels weird to say. All my life I wanted to be pregnant. I would place my hands on a pregnant woman's belly and feel its hard girth and be so envious of the sheer life force taking place. It seemed so amazing to me. And then, children. All my life I have looked after the children of other people. I have changed countless diapers. Sang soft lullabies to get them to sleep. Rocked them to sleep. Played endlessly with blocks and make believe stories. It was a big part of my life. I even lived with a newborn, helping the mother by walking the baby up and down the hallway in the middle of the night.

Now, all these images (nostalgia), integral to one part of my self identity, have floated away (as I float past the mirror). Instead I am somehow bogged down with the weight of gravity (gravitas). The weight of reality. Did I ever live in reality? Did I ever quite conceive of the true ramifications of having a child? Despite all my "experience" with children, I never really and truly lived it.

Now I will.

So, this time is a confronting one on many levels. Not only do I experience the abject corporeal heaviness of my growing belly, but the ongoing recognition that my life is less muted now but colored with what is, not what if.

It's a strange new frontier. I don't feel as confident as I should be.

Maybe that's a good place to start.

Dimensions

So. 25 weeks. More than half way there. It feels like forever...

Last week we had a 3D scan taken of the little thing. It was weird. They gave us a DVD and you can see him yawning and stretching his mouth and the doctor said he had his hand around the umbilical cord. It was odd. He didn't look so pretty. He kind of looked strange. He looked a little like my boyfriend (who does not look strange), but otherwise alien. Not alien in the sense that he was not human, but alien in the sense that he didn't look connected to me in any way. I had always assumed that somehow he would look like me. Or at least be an even facsimile of both my and my boyfriend's features. However looking at him in there, he looked like someone I had never seen before. Yes, I probably sound a little naive in this case. I know he is his own person. Yet, the images seem wrong somehow. Like we are not supposed to see babies inside the womb. It is unnatural.

In any event, the later surprise was twofold. Firstly, I swear, that baby is well-endowed (my boyfriend was proud to see). It was quite a shock seeing the scan and I had to ask my boyfriend if he thought it was possible a fetus could have an erection in the womb?! So unequivocally MALE. The second surprise was that apparently my baby measures two weeks larger than his due date. Which means a a few things potentially however all it initially meant was that I burst into tears in a panic.

After we calmed down we realized (after talking to our doctor), that measuring two weeks larger does not have to mean much at this stage and it does not mean I will have a big baby or he will come early (or it could mean both). However, right now there is no need for any alarm and he could even out and in any event, the measuring technology is imprecise.

It's all so tenuous this process. Now, I am worrying as I seem to feel faint and light headed after I eat. Medical results say nothing is wrong, but it feels wrong to me...

In the hands of fate...

Swollen watermelon

Well, it's official. I have put on way too much weight. Notwithstanding any condition (like gestational diabetes), I only have myself to blame. When I arrived in Israel I ate like I had never ate before. Ever. Hamburgers, pizza, falafel, white bread etc etc. And now I am paying the consequences. From a previously active life of yoga two to three times a week and mostly raw/vegan food, to eating complete and utter crap. Now my eating is back to "normal" generally, but it is too late. I am fat.

Fat.

Fat.

And people are commenting now. It's funny, I remember seeing a pregnant friend once and thinking, oh wow, she has put on weight! And, now I will be one of those women that people think that about. They will greet me and say hi and I will see their eyes kind of bulge a little at my huge size! I feel like a swollen watermelon on steroids. It's the worst.

And every time I get weighed, it seems to go higher. This is not good. I am eating only good and healthy food now and cutting back substantially on portion size etc. I am going to yoga (well, prenatal which is as gentle as almost doing nothing), and walking a lot. But whatever I do I just keep growing and growing and growing...

Fat.

FAT.FAT.FAT.FAT.

And every body tells me that I will lose it after the birth and of course I will lose some! But, losing weight is difficult, especially at my geriatric age.

This baby better be cute...

Musings

Not that I am saying anything new, but the more I investigate where and how I want to give birth, the more conflicting views I encounter. It seems there is a very dramatic divide between those who believe in natural childbirth and those who believe in intervention and hospital procedures. It is hard for me to talk about it in the abstract of course, never having been through the process. However, I can speak to my experience thus far of being pregnant. And in this regard, I can say that the medical profession has been relatively dehumanizing in its treatment of me. No surprise I guess as generally the medical profession isn't known for is humanity (ironically).

When reading various books about birth and the experience of women giving birth there is not a lot which speaks to the emotional ramifications of what is going on and that is perhaps the most disturbing aspect of this new world for me. I assume, back in the day, when women were giving birth in caves that nobody tried to psychoanalyze what these women were going through. Yet at the same time, these women (from what I know), had strong female communities giving these women emotional support and wisdom. Now, we go into a bright hospital and have to lie on a bed (totally unnatural for birthing) and take drugs to make our legs numb in order not to feel the pain. It just doesn't feel right. But there is much to be said, on the other hand, for evolution. Where does the truth lie?

The "truth", as far as I can understand it, is that if we believe we will experience pain we will. I have heard many women say to me, how can such a big thing come out of such a little place (I have said this myself). Lately though, I am thinking, it isn't such a small place when giving birth. It expands. One's body accommodates. That is how it all works. There is a method to the madness. Our bodies are supposed to do this. Just as something going in can feel pleasurable or painful, depending on our mental state, I am presuming, something going out can feel similarly. At least to a degree...

I am mumbling. The thing is, I am starting to feel passionate about womens' care and birthing. I understand that I may have every intervention there is. Perhaps I will have to get a c-section? Perhaps I will yell for an epidural within five minutes of labor? I hope I don't, but I am open. I will not look at it as a failure. The thing is, I would like to have every choice available to me in this process. And, I would like the time and the encouragement to be whoever I am as a pregnant woman.

No man can ever know what this feels like. Women know, but so many shut themselves down. Like there is no accessible language to articulate their feelings so they block themselves. Live in denial. And so, I may be labeled neurotic for deciding to go INTO this experience rather than out. But let's face it. This is it. This is where we begin in this world. We are birthed. And we give birth. I am in for the ride, even as uncomfortable as this whole thing is.

And it is uncomfortable...

Insured finally

So, I now have health insurance in Israel. This means I can panic legitimately as I can go to the doctor/hospital any moment I am paranoid.

I have a doctor's appointment in a couple of days with an American doctor and I am really looking forward to making sure all is OK. It has been awhile since the little thing has been checked out and I am nervous. I can't imagine what it must have been like for women my mother's generation who didn't have any of these tests.

My latest ailments? Still sick (although with more energy) and now swollen fingers so I can't wear my rings. It's all so so glamorous.

In other news, I started prenatal yoga. It was fantastic. All of a sudden being surrounded by fifteen other pregnant women of all shapes and sizes. We all looked so thoroughly exhausted. All kept getting up to pee at different intervals. I felt like I was "home" in so many ways.

The little Falafel is moving about non-stop these days but I have figured out that if I avoid eating too much before bed (and definitely not anything too sweet), then he will not move as much!

*sigh*

Falafel

Lately, once again, I have been having anxiety. I believe it is due to the nightmare I had the other day (which I posted about). Apparently, according to my research online, my feelings are unique. So I alone can take credit for this neurosis (although I did read one article about a woman expressing my fears but along with a myriad of crazy others).

So, I have been feeling weird/scared/repulsed/strange at the baby moving inside me now. At first it was all very cute to feel him move (which he does often), but since my nightmare I have felt this abject feeling towards the little thing. I get into a panic and just want it out of me. The only way I can feel better is to firstly, think of it as the child I am having with my boyfriend (and not the alien fetus inside me), and also to just not think of it (avoiding sweet foods so he doesn't move as much). The other night he kept me up all night he was moving so much. I am trying to sleep and be in denial and all I feel are the little dings and bangs of who knows what in there!

My boyfriend had wise advice. But let me digress. My sister and I were emailing the other day, and she remarked that every baby needs to have a "womb name". Some cute and superfluous name. So she hereby named my baby, "Falafel". I love it. It cracks me up every time I say it. And to tell you the truth, he has Falafel tendencies: he is middle eastern, delicious and little. So, on with my story.

My boyfriend said to me when I was expressing this anxiety: Just remember, it's Falafel in there.

Those words eased my tension a lot.

Still, daily I am struggling with this. And it seems like I am alone. None of my friends seem to have experienced this during pregnancy. I think a part of my anxiety is that currently I have too much time on my hands to be aware of every little nuance of my body. I have always been hyper aware of my body and all that goes on so this is like the absolute condition. Something is alive inside of me. OK, doesn't this freak ANYONE out?

Falfafel. Just think Falafel.

Natural nightmare

Last night I had a horrible nightmare. The baby's limbs were protruding through my skin out far so a limb was fully extended (like some alien). And the feet were huge and I realized he was fully grown and people said I had to give birth now (at 22 weeks) and I was crying and so scared. I woke up in a panic and had to wait awhile before I could sleep again.

Even this morning, feeling him move inside is a little creepy post dream.

I wonder if other women have nightmares like that during pregnancy?

So, in the on-going saga of whether to go "natural" or not, I am re-thinking epidural again. I spoke to one of my best friends in Australia who has had three children and she convinced me that no birth is truly "natural" and if the process was so natural then why do women all around the world have extreme complications, even death, giving birth? She has a point. Even now my body feels like it is in shock and that this process is anything but natural. At the same time, it is the essential act of nature. The most pristine event that accompanies life on this earth. Thousands of women give birth every day and have since the dawn of time. Surely it is natural?

In any event, for me personally it may come down to finances as my health insurance does not cover a "natural" birth and the birthing center is expensive. Add the doula and the post-hospital "hotels" here in Israel and we are looking at an expensive birth. So the question remains...

I imagine the answer is going to be somewhere in the middle...

Tank tops

Lately, I have just been feeling anxious. I am always worried about the little one's movements. Is he moving enough? I have a second anatomy scan this week and really looking forward to it.

This whole process is really anxiety-provoking. Not only am I contending with the daily tracking of his health and mine, but I am still worried about how the birth will go. My boyfriend and I are looking at a natural birthing center this week. It is attached to a hospital however, which brings some relief. I spoke to another woman yesterday about her story and about how the complications meant a c-section for her...

And, while I do not like to admit my failings, I spent half the day the other day watching an MTV series called "!6 and Pregnant" on my computer. I watched six births and all of the young mothers looked like they were in agony until the moment they received the epidural and then they were all happy and joking and while it looked uncomfortable while they pushed, it didn't look painful. Most women who have had children kind of laugh when I say I may try the "natural" version and most like to inform me that even when they have a high threshold to pain, it still was too painful to go sans epidural.

So, I am feeling a little confused about it.

But mostly these days just anxiety. My mother sent me my very first present for the baby. Little tank tops from my favorite Australian cotton brand, Bonds. They are the cutest thing I have ever seen and it was quite surreal to think they will actually be used (I hope) one day. I have them by my bed. I can't quite put them away just yet. I just like looking at them for now... But with their arrival comes a new anxiety that is about the desire for everything to go well. The stakes get higher every day.

Now I want him. I want to see him in the little tank top.

Ina May Gaskin

I have spent the last few days reading a book called "Ina May's Guide to Childbirth" and I have to say, it is truly inspiring. All these women speak of birth being "orgasmic" and "spiritual" and none of them tear or injure themselves in any serious way. It has led me to think a lot about how I would like to give birth. It also makes me realize that we come to birth with a whole set of languages and assumptions and cultural heaviness that it is hard to see the wood for the trees.

For me, labor and delivery is about the bright lights of hospital, sudden C-sections, epidurals, shaking, pain, fear, and being totally disempowered. I have taken this to be what happens and what will happen to me. Interestingly, I actually know for a fact- having witnessed it- that natural childbirth can be relatively seamless. My friend that I watched giving birth did so in a dim lit room with an oil burner and it was quiet and fast. I remember she just yelled once (when the head was crowning) and that's it. So, contrary to most of my other friends' stories, this one was unique.

And that's just it. That birth was the only birth I have ever heard of that was not complicated and set in a hospital (it was in a birthing center next to the hospital). I hate hospitals. Just going to a hospital scares me without even the thought of having to give birth in one. I hate the way doctors treat a person. I hate the de-humanization process that takes place.

And so that's why this book has been so interesting to me. Birth as a spiritual experience? Can it be done? Can I do it? I don't know if I have the strength. On the one hand, I want to make this experience a deep one. I want my son's life to begin in a positive way. On the other hand, as I have mentioned before, I am an advocate for taking medication when I am in pain. To a degree however. I have had success with Chinese medicine and acupuncture. I have increased my immune system with herbs, healthy eating and yoga. I have tried to take an alternative approach generally. So, maybe it is possible?

I believe mainly it is the fear that gets in the way. Fear of the unknown. I am not really scared of the pain per se, I am scared of the baby being in a position where it is not safe. I believe that the pain is temporary and somehow giving birth is a singularly temporary experience. That said, I cannot predict how I will encounter pain.

Last night I felt a short, stabbing pain which I sometimes feel. It is said to be round ligament pain. My ovaries stretching to accommodate the little one. However, I thought to myself last night, wow, if this is anything similar to the type of pain in childbirth then this is going to hurt! A lot!

I don't know. I really don't...

Belly

The good news: the amniocentesis results came back and the little one is a healthy baby.

And it was a sweet moment when I found out as I was sitting on a bus and felt this overwhelming rush of love for the baby inside me (perhaps for the first time), and at that exact moment my boyfriend called and told me the good news. The convergence of acceptance and hope.

It was a weird day also, because on the first bus ride (to Jerusalem to become a legitimate citizen of this country), I was sitting next to this woman who kept accidentally jabbing my side. It was the first time I really felt this protective urge and I kept moving and holding my belly so she couldn't have any access to it. I didn't want this strange woman's energy next to my baby.

All this belly talk...

BRAT

So, back on the BRAT diet. Bananas, rice, apple sauce and toast. My stomach seems to be conspiring against me, along with my throat and general feeling of well-being. This is just getting better and better. Not.

In other news, my boyfriend finally was at the right time and the right place to feel the baby move and it was pretty cute. I had really been wanting him to feel him and it was very touching. It feels like the little thing is punching and kicking my stomach in the cutest, softest way. I am constantly wondering what he is doing in there?

So, even though my insides are in disarray, my belly looks pregnant and the baby is moving like an athlete. The other night my boyfriend and I went to a dinner party and a couple of the guests (who I know and feel comfortable with), felt my belly. It was strange as this was the first time I have been pregnant enough for people to actually see it (and feel it). I remember always wanting to touch the belly's of pregnant women, but once remember my pregnant friend telling me it was weird as in "real life" you don't go about touching the belly's of other women. And from then on, if I really felt the desire, I would ask her if it was OK before I touched her belly (the desire to touch never went away). So, now I am one of those women whose belly people want to touch. How many times can one use the word "belly" in a sentence?

Back to some toast.

Attachment part two

As I am writing today, the little thing is really moving about. Sometimes when I put my hand there it stops. My boyfriend has yet to feel it, but I feel any day now he will have a chance. I really am excited for him to feel it.

So, next week we find out the results of the Amniocentesis. If there is something wrong we will have the option to terminate. Today I am nervous as this would be difficult for me. Of course. However I am not sure what aspect of it would be the most difficult, going through the procedure, going through the loss of hope, or actually being sad about the little thing in me. Right now I still have mixed feelings about how attached I am.

A friend said something interesting recently about the little movements I am experiencing, which is, that in retrospect, knowing who actually came out, she wished she was more aware and more attached to the movements. Right now for me it is amorphous. I have no idea who this being is. However I can see what she is saying. Once I am attached to this creature in real life I will be able to look back and be nostalgic for his little movements in my womb. Perhaps the movements will be indicative of his personality somehow.

Another friend told me something very sweet about her attachment to her baby, which is that after he was born she still felt very much connected in the sense that they were one unit together. When she had to make doctor appointments for both her check up and her baby's, she made the one appointment, only to find out she needed to make two separate appointments. She didn't feel so separate. I love this story.

It is an evolution this process- and yes, why it is said that you really need these nine months in order to go through the myriad of emotions we endure. I think how different it must have been when my mother was going through this. No ultra sounds or Amnio. No real indication of anything but the eventual movements of the baby (me). I wonder how the connection at this time manifested then?

Lately I have been feeling like I have a little buddy with me. Someone along for the ride (literally). It is sweet but I am trying to be careful not to fetishize this feeling. I don't want to encourage a desire that the baby is here for me. I want to be there for him. I am aware of how it would be possible for women to use their children as their own safety objects and I don't want to create a neurotic agenda this early. Yet, still, there is something very interesting about having this person inside me. He is with me all the time.

It's all so interesting.

But, just so I don't miss my daily complaint: I wish I didn't feel so sick!

Control

Yesterday a close friend called from Sydney. I was telling her (yet again), how sick I feel and how difficult it is, and she said this was just the beginning. And then she said something very wise. She said that this experience is about "giving up control".

Giving up control.

There is a moment of surrender I am not sure I have quite hit. However the words hit home.

Before pregnancy I had a lot more control. I had control over my thighs, over my exercise, over my state of corporeal. It is too easy to say that I have no control right now, but I definitely have less. And the future is unknown. Completely. Will I carry the pregnancy to term? Will my baby be born healthy? Will the birth be safe for me? Will this baby have blue eyes or brown eyes (I spent some time googling this yesterday. Way too much time on my hands)?

Today I will focus on those words. I have no control over anything in my life. I can make choices and hopefully direct, to a certain degree, my future, but ultimately I have no control. I cannot control my thunder thighs or my growing belly or my pasty (who ever said pregnant women glow?) skin. None.

And of course, there is freedom in giving up control. Once you give up control you can accept what is. Which usually, is pretty good (at least in the moment of happening).

Right now I have had my morning coffee. I am well fed on eggs and fresh feta and I have a good day planned (an anomaly for my lonely self these days). In this moment, I have given up control and everything is OK.

Giving up control.

Sick still and other motherhood musings

OK. That's it. I give up. I am just ONE of THOSE women, who get sick for their whole pregnancy. Every week I have been like, OK, next week I am sure I will feel better, Or, I read that this woman started feeling better at 22 weeks, so maybe that's when I will feel better? But the other day in the car with my boyfriend I said to him that I need to stop peaking around the corner of the next week in the hope I will feel better and just accept that maybe this is how pregnancy will be for me.

Which is not cool. I am really not into feeling this way. At all.

I have described it before as a hang over feeling with a mix of nausea. Can I elaborate? It is like there is cotton wool in my head, mixed with a slight headache, mixed with exhaustion, mixed with nausea, mixed with this sick feeling in my chest, mixed with a head that hurts and aching limbs. That's about it. Oh, and an ongoing feeling of being faint and out of breath whenever I move.

I am done.

In other news, I have been thinking a lot about motherhood the past few days. I have been thinking about my own relationships with my parents (and their relationships with theirs) and how no matter how hard we try, our child is going to have some problem with us (me). I can just imagine my kid sitting, stoned at some beach after a day of surfing and laughing with all his friends about the embarrassing thing that his mother does, "Oh yeah dude, she always used to say that to me! It was so annoying".

The thing is, we all have expectations about how our children will turn out. Even with this unborn child I have expectations. He will be kind and gentle and strong and he will do good in the world. He will be successful (at whatever he does) and insightful and have compassion. He will make some woman a wonderful partner and he will be an amazing father. He will be respectful and honest with women and have great values. You get the picture. But, what if this is not the case? What if he pops out and is grumpy and unhappy? How much is nature versus nurture? What if he wants to be a selfish and ungrateful human being?

It is these thoughts which interest me. How do I participate in helping the evolution of a wonderful human being? Generally I think that my boyfriend and I will do a good job. We will give this child a lot of love and solid boundaries and all the support he needs. We will imbue him with decent values and make sure his self esteem is healthy. However, that doesn't provide for the x factor in all this. Who he is?

It's easy to love a baby. It's harder to love a pimpled, smelly teenage boy who wants to rebel (in my case rebelling may take the form of being some socially backward child who loves nothing more than to play some violent game online 24/7). What if our boy doesn't want to surf? Or explore life? What if he is afraid?

Enough questions. I have to have faith, that with the right kind of love and support, this boy will flourish. It's why I am having a child. It is partly selfish, but it is also motivated by the enormity of the task. It is noble. I take this responsibility seriously.

For now though, I will continue to hate being pregnant and love feeling him move inside me. The dialectic continues.

Dream monologue

Last night I had one of those long dreams that seem to continue like an epic adventure. This dream was about my baby. It was probably one of the first I have had like it. Yesterday (whilst consuming a hamburger my boyfriend and I ordered in), we watched (in keeping with the trashy food), a terrible show called "Against All Odds" where they showed babies being born in crazy circumstances- one of them being a woman in a coma giving birth in the coma. I guess I appropriated this image for my dream and in a matter of a dream hour I effortlessly gave birth to my boy. In the dream everyone kept asking me if I had given birth and I was like, "yeah, no problem".

So, then I am with this dark-haired baby (of course in my dream he looks like me and not my boyfriend- in real life I kind of want him to look like my boyfriend). And this baby is divine. I just want to smell him and hold him and watch him sleep. And then I breast feed him (with absolute ease of course in the dream) and I am overwhelmed with how much I love him.

That said: no dream is just a dream and it had an edge of nightmare when for the rest of the night I somehow couldn't get back to feed him and so was in a state of panic. However, once returned to feed him, the ease and love would return. I guess that is what being a parent is about- that mixed feeling of love and anxiety.

That was my night. I believe that part of the dream was initiated by the fact that I have been feeling him move quite a bit the last two days. The movements are only felt on the inside like flutters and soft beats, but they are unmistakable. I believe the other part of the dream was initiated by the fact that an old mentor of mine emailed me yesterday (after I emailed him about the pregnancy), and he said that he could see me really enjoying this "production" of my own and he remembered me making a book for his little boy back when I looked after him occasionally. I do not remember this, but know I have always been a huge, huge fan of children. Somehow I keep overlooking the fact that I am going to be in seventh heaven with one of my own. It doesn't seem like the story fits...

So, now after my morning coffee I am waking up to the fact that this may actually be exactly what the doctor ordered.

One cute baby I can love as much as I want.

To E or not to E...

So, I recently found out (maybe erroneously), that having a lower back tattoo (which I have), may impede the ability to receive an epidural during labor. I do not know for a fact if this is true, and my doctor will take a gander at the location of my tattoo next time I see her, but it's definitely a strange (and terrifying) thought.

I have always thought I would have an epidural as a matter of course. I have never understood these women who want to give birth "naturally". As far as I can see, there is not much that is natural about this whole process. At least for me.

However now faced with the remote possibility that I will be forbidden to take any course of action but the "natural" one is definitely something intriguing. What the X factor in all of this is that nobody can really project what kind of birth it will be? Will I be one of those women who can just pop out a baby in a few hours (I somehow doubt that), or a woman who goes into labor for 30 hours? My mother was in labor for a long time, however I am not sure if that is any real indicator for me (and our pregnancies are very different). Could I do it naturally? The fact is, I have no idea. That said, when I have a headache I take medication. When I have a cold, I take medication. I don't like feeling pain if I don't have to. Who does?

The only thing I am thinking about in this situation is that when you give birth naturally you have more pain blocking endorphin things that happen. And you heal quicker...That's what I have read anyway.

Again, the whole thing just seems so odd and scary and troubling. I know everyone does it. I know it's going to happen whether I like it or not. It's just weird!

I just ate some butter and honey on a fresh roll and I can feel him move about a little. It's kind of cute.

Victim

Yesterday I had my hair dyed and cut. Whilst sitting at the hairdressers I looked at my reflection in the bright lit mirror and was disgusted. My legs seemed to have grown wider than I have ever seen them. I kept making sure the black smock was pressed down as far as it could go past my knees and the offending thighs.

In time though, I started thinking about how I have been a victim to this pregnancy. My body the sacrifice. Yes, at 20 weeks I still feel sick. I thought after my bad cold and coughing that I would "wake up" to a new me without the hangover feeling, but alas, today I feel it more than ever. That said, sitting at the hairdressers I was convinced that from this point on things are going to be different. I am going to pretend I am not pregnant. I am going to go about my life as usual. Omit bad food, go to yoga like a maniac, and feel like I can dress like a normal person. This was my vow.

The rest of the evening I was full of energy. What had I been doing before? I had let this pregnancy determine who I was and what I was capable of. No more. Yes, there was something growing in me, but I could still participate in the world like a full human being? Yes!

This was it.

No more victim!

Today though I feel awful. Again. It is raining outside and I feel like I have cotton wool in my head, mixed with a tinge of nausea. I feel

like

a

victim.

Alien attachment

In keeping with this new attachment theme I am currently experiencing, the one deficit to this growing emotion is that I have still yet to feel the baby "move". And to be honest, I am not sure how I feel about the feeling of it moving. There is a part of me that is excited for this, however another part of me is kind of creeped out by this. It is an alien experience being pregnant and it is also alien to have an alien in you. My alien.

Generally, it is not a common experience to have something in one's body move without explanation or control. We do not have our livers fling about or our stomach's reel in flits of spams. That said, we do experience gas, probably the closest feeling to the movement of a baby (at least the initial ones). Again, pregnancy lends itself to this separation of self. There is no autonomous body but a big body (bigger every day) and a little parasitic body inside the big body, which has no jurisdiction over this little body.

Everyone tells me it is a flutter or a bubble and I have felt this. At least I am pretty sure. It is a little like gas. So maybe I have felt it "move" but not in any distinct way. There is of course, comfort in feeling it move. The alien is alive! However, more and more as he gets bigger I am getting more and more apprehensive about the movement.

I do feel primarily like a vessel. And I have a feeling that the more he moves, the more I am going to feel like his walking airplane. It's an abstract feeling. More than that however, I feel weird about it. There is a part of me that wants to scream, "get it out, get it out" like I really have some kind of close encounter alien squirming to get out.

This is a trip.

Birth fear

I will say this: Having a bad cold and being pregnant is no fun. However, the upside is that having a blocked nose and a terrible cough is distracting me from the general hangover feeling I have from the pregnancy. Yesterday, for a brief hour or two I felt a little better from my cold and then I started feeling the hangover feeling again. Good one.

So. It's happening. I'm getting attached. I am not sure when it happened, but in the last week I have been feeling excited. All of a sudden I am attached to the outcome of this bloated body. Who is he going to be? Who will he look like? However, with that comes more anxiety. The biggest being, how in the world am I going to give birth to him?

I have many, may friends who have had babies. All of them have a particular birth story. All of them, when asked about how their birth was? give a BIG sigh and say, well, mine was pretty tough. I have never met anyone who was like, oh, birth? It was great! That isn't entirely true as I know from my friends that the second and the third birth always seems to be a lot easier. The first, not so much.

I have actually watched a birth. A long time ago (16 or 17 years ago?) in a birthing center. The mother was a dancer and I guess was used to a certain amount of pain. The birth looked pretty good. She lay on a bean bag and her partner cradled her and all I remember is having her first child in my lap watching with her thumb in her mouth as this mother to be gave a few groans and pushes and out came the baby. I also remember, quite vividly, going to find her some dinner that night and bringing her back a huge plate of pasta which she ate with such gusto and relish that I will never forget the image. Pretty seamless.

That said, more often than not the birth stories I have heard always involve something unusual. Always there is a complication that nobody had really heard of. Always the woman describing the birth will say, well, in my case they had to....

They had to....

Cut, chop, insert, incise...

So: I am nervous. I have been told that in Israel the doctors do not attend births but the midwives handle. This is a little sad for me as I would so love my doctor to be there. I like her manner. She would be a calming influence for me and my boyfriend. I have been told that it is very business like in the hospital and that the midwives do the minimum needed.

I am already planning to have an epidural. I have no idea what kind of pain we are talking about here, but an epidural seems like the "easy" way out. It all seems so vague though. And nobody seems to remember exactly how to describe the pain. Pain is hard to describe in any event. It is existential to the core. Fleeting and deep, however wordless.

The unknown. I have to embrace it. For this is completely and utterly unknown. I know I will feel pain. I know I will feel scared. That's about it.

I wonder why other women don't seem to talk about this fear? Is it too neurotic to be pondering birth at this stage? The bigger he gets the more I think about it. How in the world will he get out?

How?

The cold doctor's visit

Last night I had a routine check up with my doctor. I have felt very grateful to have found her. She is warm and articulate and knows a lot. Last night however was difficult. Firstly, the room was cold. I was cold. I felt uncomfortable and realized that before pregnancy I used to avoid the doctor mostly and this constant prodding was starting to exhaust me.

There is something about a doctor where a person feels self-conscious about asking too many questions. I always ask in an apologetic manner, "I'm sorry for asking, but..." So, I ask my list of questions which she answers in a banal manner as if she has been asked these questions a million times before (so I may be a little paranoid). In any event, I felt odd for some reason. Like there are no real answers and her guess is as good as mine. There seems to be nothing definitive about medicine.

Then we get to the table where she puts the cold gel on my stomach and I feel self-conscious again as I move my jeans further and further down so she can get a good look. I start shivering. She moves the ultra sound thing around my belly and starts looking keenly at the screen. I see my boyfriend look at the screen, but I can't really see anything. And all of a sudden I am weary of these ultra sounds. I can never really discern that much on the screen and apart from making sure the little one's heart is beating, I don't really care about seeing him "wave" or move about. This is how I feel today. No waving or connection. I am just cold and uncomfortable.

And it occurs to me that women in this position are not supposed to be self conscious. After all, they are participating in the most "natural" process in the world. However, even at my ripe old age of 38, I am self conscious. I don't like being exposed and I don't like having my legs open on the stirrups. I don't like my breasts being checked. I just don't like it. It feels like I do not have any ownership over my body in these moments.

Then the doctor says she can't see enough and he is "too low". All of a sudden my boyfriend and I are asking her, what does "too low" mean? Is everything OK? Yes, yes she consoles us- he's just hard to see. So she gets the ole probe with a condom on and some more cold gel and I put my legs on those horrible stirrups and she starts moving the probe this way and that and I can't even look at the screen I am so cold and uncomfortable. To her credit, she did put the heater on, however by that point I was already chilled. Chilled by this process. Already tired of being looked at in this way. Her cold hands then check my belly.

She says "he's big" -which worries me. Although she also posits this with the caveat that right now in the second trimester all babies grow at different speeds. Of course now I have a vision of a ten pound baby trying to make its way out...

So, we leave the doctor. Another expensive test (I still do not have health insurance), looms in a few weeks. And I start getting scared about what's to come. More doctors. Hospitals. And how in the world is he going to get out of me?

It's exhausting.

And today I wake up with a bad cold. Cést la vie.

Tomorrow's another day.

Hamburgers/Cravings and food

Last night I had a craving for a hamburger...

I was raised a vegetarian for the most part and generally only eat fish and occasionally chicken, however pregnancy changed this...

Last night: I order a sandwich type thing from a place called "Eat Meat" (a bizarre place to go for someone formerly a vegetarian). I can't actually look at the meat, but just know that it will be disguised in this sandwich (true to Israeli style with amazing condiments and sauces). I catch a glimpse of the pink meat and feel a little nauseous. I turn away until the sandwich is safely put in the take out box. Once home, I eat really quickly. My excuse is I need iron. Yup. That's it.

The other day I read that the baby is now starting to taste what I eat via the amniotic fluid. I find this entertaining. Just before I have my strawberry smoothie I can imagine the baby swimming in a strawberry flavored stew. And now, he gets a warm dose of hamburger flavor. I also read that how you eat now can affect his taste later? I am not sure if this is true or not, but I like the idea of having an affect on this taste buds at such an early age. At this point, I know he will love, strawberries, toast with vegemite, avocado, eggs, cheese and the occasional hamburger. Oh, and he will love sushi (but maybe the vegetarian kind since I cannot eat raw fish).

My relationship to food fascinates me during this time. At the beginning it took on a manic quality. Some items were passionately disgusting and others just bland. I never had any specific aversions just a general haze of dislike. And, the more carbohydrates a food item contained, the better. I should have guessed something was a little odd when in New York (newly pregnant but undiscovered), I had a sudden craving for fried chicken, which until that time I had NEVER eaten. In the space of two weeks I may have eaten it at least three times.

More disconcerting was the anxious feelings I would get when I was hungry and didn't have anything immediate to eat. It was an awful feeling. I felt so out of control. Sometimes we would be in the car and I would have to get my boyfriend to stop- anywhere- to find something. When my mother visited she was upset by this and she had never seen anything like it. I had to eat when I had to eat. It was a really difficult time.

After years of eating consciously and well I was just eating anything with bread and cheese I could get my hands on. I felt out of control.

Now, things have calmed down a little with the eating, however the hamburger craving haunts me from time to time. My boyfriend likes it when I eat meat as he loves meat and wants this baby to love it also. However, I cannot cook meat and usually only find it palatable when it is disguised as something that doesn't look like meat. I will have to find a way to deal with this as I want the child to eat meat, but for now I am turning the other cheek.

Until then, he will have to enjoy being in a warm bath of hamburger fluid. Yum.