It is what it is

Woke up with stabbing pains in my heart today.  Don’t worry, it was just the heartburn.  But boy is this stuff getting old.  Tiara, I may just look into this Gaviscon that you speak of!  I have my next appointment next week so will ask about stronger alternatives to Tums.  This whole getting up five times a night to take Tums thing is getting really old.

My sister called all stressed out yesterday because she has a super-important job the first weekend of April that she can’t miss.  It’s totally ok with me – but it did get me thinking about how uncertain the next couple of months are.  I mean, I could, technically, go into labor any time.  And once mid-March hits (a mere five weeks away) I could REALLY go into labor any time.  They said at my birthing class that first babies tend to be late, so there’s a good chance I’ll be delivering right when my sister can’t be here (as my due date is March 29, and if he’s a week late, then…).  But we have no control over these things, so it’s cool.  My motto these days is “it is what it is”.  I kind of like that labor is so random – there’s no way to plan for it (other than a scheduled C section of course).  It’s rare in today’s world that you can still be surprised by something or have something not totally under your control, at the push of a button.  So really, about a month from now, assuming the next month goes well, I will be preparing for that odd moment when labor starts, analyzing abdominal pains (is this it???  Is it starting???), waking up in the night wondering if I’m in labor, etc etc.  It’s hard to imagine that will be me.  But it will.  Oh boy, will it.

I keep having dreams in which I am in labor but still walking around and not in any pain.  Ah, if only that could be real.  Last night’s was a mash-up of my dream’s Greatest Hits collection – being in labor but without pain, AND having to go to a crappy job that I had in my youth and not knowing the systems and being all confused and everyone being mad at me.  Ha ha ha!  Good times.

Tonight the band has a gig we booked some months ago.  It’s funny to think at the time I was worried I’d be able to make it at all.  I remember thinking, “I’m going to be HUGE!  I may not even fit out my front door!” (manatee).  I am delighted to report that at eight months I am not huge nor a manatee.  And I will be able to wear my cute 40s maternity outfit and perform like a normal person.  We have a couple more on the books after this – one the first weekend of March and one March 14^th.  We’ll see if I’m a manatee by then.  Don’t seem to (yet) have any trouble singing physically (despite all my inner organs having played musical chairs over the last couple of months) nor am I forgetting lyrics.  So, there you go.

People keep kidding with me that I should “pull the pregnancy card” under certain situations, and there have for sure been moments when I’ve asked to stop for food or a bathroom or asked someone to help me carry something.  But for the most part there’s a real fear in me of appearing helpless and incompetent.  Whenever someone asks if I think I’ll be able to handle or do something, I feel like saying, “I am perfectly capable of X,Y,Z…” (in my mind I say this in an uptight British accent.  Don’t ask me why.)  I feel this overwhelming need to prove myself “tough” and “independent”.  Maybe I’m afraid people will look at me like, “hey, you chose this and now you’re asking for help?  F-you.”  As if anyone would think that (well, anyone I care about, anyway).  But there is a part of me too that feels like I need to stretch those “tough” muscles now, since once the baby is here there’s going to be a lot of tough moments – I’m going to need to get used to being uncomfortable, inconvenienced, things taking forever, etc etc.  Now is a good practice time.

So can I tell you my fears?  Ok, so here is something I’ve been thinking about a lot.  You know the “plan” is to have baby #2 at some point.  And as always I reserve the right to cancel this plan at any time.  And biologically it may be canceled for me, as you well know.  This falls under the category of “why do you still care what people think”, but I’ll put it out there anyway.  I feel like everyone – and I mean everyone, from conservative Catholics to 90-year-old ladies – are so full of good will for me on having one baby by choice.  Everyone wants to baby sit, everyone wants to help.  I have this real fear that “if” I go for baby #2 and am successful that all of this good will will dry up and everyone will think I’m either a) crazy and/or b) selfish.  I can see it now, I announce pregnancy #2 all happy and excited, and people (in their heads) just roll their eyes and think, “oh, she’s in for it now.”  I get the feeling that two kids is exponentially more difficult than one, especially when they’re so close in age.  And especially when there’s only one of you as parent.  And especially when you’re not rich and can’t afford much (or any) help.  I feel like people will start to get snarky, will be more likely to make cruel comments when I complain about anything at all, as in “well, this was your choice, you have to deal with it.”  Again, why should I care what anyone thinks?  I shouldn’t, right?  But maybe there’s a part of me that thinks they’re right, that I should just count my blessings with one healthy baby and move on.  It will for sure make my life easier, being just me and my son.  But none of this is about “easy” or “cheap” as you who have two or are considering two know – it’s about feeling your family is complete, or not.  I would love it if my son comes out and I know for sure that we’re complete and he’s all I want.  But something tells me it won’t be like that.  Even women beyond childbearing years with one kid that I know STILL agonize over that second baby that never was.  I think for me it will just be an ongoing issue that I either address by actually trying (and perhaps giving up at some point, if it just flat out doesn’t work) or by stuffing my desires down and telling myself one is for the best even though I’ll always know I had a chance at two and passed (not a nice feeling).  Still I fear people’s derision.  Probably have to just get over that, I guess.