I handled my birthday so well. I’m actually incredibly proud of myself.
We went to breakfast with my parents, a boxing class in the afternoon with friends (and the instructor even let me bring cupcakes along which is quite counter productive to exercise!), and then went to a nice Thai restaurant and the movies in the evening. The day was so busy I didn’t get the chance to be sad that I’m not a mother, or curse the fact that I’m no longer pregnant.
I will confess I still haven’t gone to see a counselor. I’m still coping badly with my emotions. I will get around to organising that, as soon as I figure out what’s holding me back. And I know I do need to see someone quite badly.
The other day I was in the pharmacy picking up more prenatal vitamins (the ones I’ve been taking for 2 years in the stupid hope I’ll be pregnant soon) and I ended up standing next to a lady who looked about 7 months ago. She was also buying prenatal vitamins.
This weird thought popped into my head before I could even stop it. If I punched that belly, her pregnancy would disappear and then she would be just like me. It was absolutely the weirdest thing. I’m not a violent person at all. I can’t even kill spiders or bugs. I was a vegetarian for 12 years and a vegan for 2 years. I only eat small amounts of meat now because I’m iron deficient and I want to be in the best possible health for my future child. I only eat organic meat, and preferably game meat like kangaroo, because I know the animal hasn’t needlessly suffered. Anyway, the point is I would absolutely never ever hurt anyone or anything. In my mind, I wasn’t harming a baby by punching that woman. I was simply making her belly vanish. Making her tummy flat like mine. Putting us back on equal footing. Making us the same.
I told Doug and he suggested next time I have a weird or violent thought like that I should try smiling and see if it helps it to go away. I also told my mother and she laughed hysterically and told me it was the silliest thing she’d ever heard. That didn’t exactly help.
In other news, we get to go see our next specialist in a few days. Finally! Well, I get to go see her. I made a massive cock up and Doug isn’t able to go to our first appointment. He has a super busy job, as you might be able to tell by the fact he’s missed a lot of doctor’s appointments in the past. In order to make sure he could attend this new appointment I locked it into his diary weeks in advance. 22 May. 10am.
Except the appointment isn’t at 10am, it’s at 3pm. I was so nervous and panicked I wrote down the wrong time.So now poor Doug has kept his morning free (at my request) and piled all of his daily meetings in the afternoon. I feel awful and stupid that Doug can’t come and sad that I have to go by myself. I’m thinking of asking my mother to come with me instead for moral support.
What else has been happening in our lives since I last updated? Not a great deal.
Doug’s pregnant sister Jess came to stay at our house last weekend. It was actually really hard to see her. She isn’t sensitive at all to my needs or feelings. She, her husband Rory and one year old daughter Layla live about 8 hours drive away and they came to stay at our place so they could attend a wedding. She walked into the house, no “hello” or “how are you”, just turns to Doug and says “I’m hungry and I need to feed my unborn baby. Give me food.”
I could see Doug falter and not know what to do. He was torn between his desire to protect me, and to do the right thing by his family. In the end I was the one who made her food. I didn’t want a fight between the siblings in the first 5 minutes after Jess’s arrival. She is 24 years old, immature and always been treated like the princess of her family. I understand why she is the way she is. Plus, I just don’t like conflict.
But I kept on looking at her and thinking you tried for 3 months before you became pregnant. That’s just not fair.
Every now and then she would ask a question about me, like “when do you next see the specialist?” and I’d think she cared. But then would immediately segway into “my pregnancy pants don’t fit well, do you think my bump is bigger this time than last time?” or “the baby is awake! I can feel it moving!”
You tried for 3 months. Only 3 months.
Then Rory arrived not long afterwards. He was part of the wedding party, so they’d come in separate cars. He walked into the house, got down on his knees, pushed his face up to Jess’s belly and started talking to his baby. “How’s my little one? Are you growing big and strong? What a beautiful baby you are.”
I could feel the tension radiating from Doug, who was standing by the fridge in the kitchen. The fridge where the photo of our long lost Nemo was still stuck to the surface with magnets. These people were supposed to love and care about us. Why were they doing this to us in our own house?
3 months and now you’re in baby bliss. Just 3 months.
The shining light of the weekend was spending time with our niece Layla. We love her to bits. She has just started saying Unkie Doug and Arny Sadie. She’s a ball of laughter and fun. We babysat while Jess and Rory were at the wedding. We played with chalk and crayons, then sat down to watch Disney movies before I cooked dinner. Sometime during the course of the evening she stopped calling me Arny Sadie and started calling me Arny Mummy. It was weird hearing a little person look at me and call me Mummy, even if the word Aunty was in front of it (or at least Layla’s version of the word aunty). I hope I get to hear it for real sometime soon.