Internet Grapes

pregnant (April 6th)
Originally uploaded by jessamyn.n.

I had thought it would be easier to take a photo each day once the weather got nicer, and I guess it probably would be if not for the fact that the long-awaited arrival of spring has coincided with the last two months of my pregnancy. We've gone for a lot of long walks the past few weeks, and normally I would bring my camera along, but since it's about all I can do to haul my own self (and that other self wriggling around inside me) around, I've been leaving behind everything else. No purse, no camera, no nothing. Geoff brings his wallet and our keys. On Saturday we walked over a mile to Heartland Cafe in Rogers Park, and then after we ate, we walked back. It was a beautiful, gorgeous day, and a lovely walk, but I don't have any pictures from it. (Or from the whole day, or from the day before.)

Yesterday after I got home from a quick trip to Target during Katie's nap, I left the garage door open so that I could walk down the alley to this tulip tree that's in full bud. Its blooms will be showing long before this baby is born, I assume. I wouldn't be surprised, even, if the blooms are already long gone by that time. Still, it won't be long.

Weekend update

Katie is having quiet time in her room right now (which perhaps may become a nap), and Geoff is taking a nap, and I am eating root beer float ice cream.  It is DELICIOUS.  This is the second gallon I've plowed through on my own...TODAY!  Ok, kidding, no.  In the past two or three weeks.  I am pretty sure I'm the only one eating it, though, and the second gallon is almost gone.  As I was just dipping myself this cup of ice cream next to me, I was thinking, "WHY didn't I just buy two gallons the last I was at the store?  That would have been so smart!"  But alas.

(I don't really have the energy or focus or skill set at this time to write an entry here that is polished and related to a single topic.  I'm just going to babble for a little while.)

I am reaching the end stage of pregnancy now, as far as how I feel.  Bending over is still not so bad, because I tend to squat instead of bending straight over, but getting up from a prone position has a tendency to make me feel like a turtle on its back.  And OH, my aching back, if I walk for any length of time, especially at the end of a long day.  Geoff and Katie have started walking to her daycare almost every weekday, now, and on Wednesdays, when I work from home, I've walked with them.  It's a little over a mile away (even longer since we usually try to stay away from the busiest streets, which would be the shortest rout).  For Katie, this means if she walks there and back, she's walking two miles in a day, which we figure is a lot for a four year old; perhaps not surprisingly, she has been accepting bedtime and sleeping through the night so much better the past couple of weeks.  But for Geoff - and for me, if I come along - this is over four miles in a day.  On Wednesday I was a little tired on our way home in the morning, but by evening, I was HURTING.  And yesterday I walked to the el in the morning, which is around three quarters of a mile, and that was fine.  But walking home from the station at the end of the day damn near felt like it was going to make me collapse.  When I got home, I walked up the stairs one step at a time; I just didn't have the energy to climb them any faster.  Today we walked to Ihop (and back) for brunch, and by the time we climbed the stairs at home, I was just about as tired, practically limping up the stairs. 

We had a nice Easter.  When I thought about Easter this year, I thought often about what I wrote here, back in 2001, about how often we live in a Good Friday kind of world, where dreams are crushed, and where despair triumphs over hope - where the worst possible outcome is the most common kind of outcome, and where hard work and a good heart don't seem to get you much of anywhere.  The past year or so has been that kind of year, and it put me in that frame of mind.  For awhile, I've been a pessimist, or at least much more than I ever was before.  But this year, as Easter rolled around, I realized how much better I have been feeling lately.  I am feeling good again, feeling once again like my future still holds promise, feeling both that I am blessed to live in this world and that the world is blessed to have me in it.  The pregnancy has helped with that, of course, and even though I'm still aware that huge things could still go wrong with that, I'm willing to bank on things going right. 

If you haven't, I wish you could meet my daughter, because she is seriously awesome.  She's smart and funny and imaginative and sweet.  She tells me out of nowhere that I am beautiful or "simply lovely."  She tells us stories and wants to play pretend with us.  She has started requesting a napkin at the start of dinner, if we've forgotten to give her one, instead of wiping her mouth on her sleeve.  She has stopped fighting bedtime lately - when I tuck her in and leave her room at night, she is often smiling at me.  She is really excited about being a big sister, although she does seem mildly concerned about what exactly is going to happen that will get the baby into our lives.  I've explained to her where the baby will emerge, but she keeps worrying that my belly is just going to burst open at some point. 

I sure hope not, but there have been some days lately when I've been a little worried about that myself.  This baby kicks and wriggles harder and more often than Katie did at this point in the pregnancy; Katie's movements, while frequent, never actually hurt me.  I can't say the same for this time around. 

So, overall.  A good week.  A good month, even.  I'm happy.

10 weekends until my due date. And counting.

To sum up the past almost three months: this pregnancy is kicking my ass. 

It's not that anything unusual or incredibly difficult is going on physically.  In fact, the past month or so has been really great in that respect; I'm no longer having daily headaches, feeling continous nausea, or suffering from extreme fatigue no matter how much sleep I get, and I'm not (quite) yet big enough that I have to have a debate with myself about whether or not it's worth it to try to pick something off the floor.  The cold and cough that lasted for over a month have been gone for at least a month by now.  And the baby in there kicks and punches and twists and turns many, many times each day, so often that even my newly cynical mind doesn't consider, morbidly, on a daily basis, whether or not she's possibly died in there.  (I was thinking that routinely for awhile, not because I expected it, but just because my frame of mind was very much along the lines of "anything bad can happen.) 

But I've been an emotional basketcase.  I think I've been better during the last week (although I probably shouldn't say that for fear of jinxing myself), but before that, wow.  Look out.  I don't have any way to test whether or not I'm more emotional and sensitive than I was when I was pregnant with Katie, but I know that I've been crying more often, feeling hopeless more often, wanting to throw things against the wall more often.  I blame, in large part, the awesome child I live with, who is just doing her part toward growing up - she's testing her boundaries.  Constantly.  I remember being weepy and sensitive when I was pregnant with Katie, but I don't remember feeling, over and over, like I was on the verge of a tantrum.  It's probably not a coincidence that when I was pregnant with her, nobody ever woke me up in the middle of the night.  There was nobody to stop me from going to bed as early as I wanted, or from falling asleep on the couch before dinner.  I didn't have to put anybody else to bed (negotiating with me every freaking step of the way) when all I wanted to do was to collapse in a chair in front of the tv.   

The two major issues we've been facing with Katie have been sleeping through the night - and going to bed on time - and pooping in the toilet.  The way things have shaken out, these end up in direct conflict with each other, because most days she will hold her poop all day, until after bedtime, and then she'll poop in her overnight diaper.  Sometimes it takes her 45 minutes or an hour to do that, and by then it's almost my bedtime. 

Work has also been incredibly frustrating lately.  I won't write much about that here, but I will say that the job itself, even on the best days, is full of possibilities for getting frustrated, since no one ever submits a claim unless and until something has gone wrong.  So by the time I talk to someone, they're usually already angry, and I am often the first person they can take it out on.  When you also take into account the suckage of the real estate industry these days, it means I'm doing spending more time doing more work which is more difficult for people who appreciate it less.  Despite that, we aren't getting any raises this year, and the corporate office adds new requirements on a near-weekly basis.  And this winter has been full of snow and ice and snow and ice and gray, dreary days with no sunshine.  Today it has already snowed at least 6 inches.

And on top of all of the other hard stuff, I find myself thinking often, lately, about my sister in law Stephanie, who in August 2002, three months before Geoff and I got married, asked me when we were going to make her an aunt.  Who came to visit more than once while I was pregnant with Katie, and who took me out to get manicures and pedicures about two months before my due date.  Who apparently bragged about Katie to everyone she knew, and who knew how much we wanted another baby.  Who told me often about how much she looked forward to having her own children.  I know she would have been excited for us, with this new baby on the way.  If she were alive, I bet she would be visiting sometime soon, to take me for a pedicure, to stock our freezer full of ice cream, and to offer to babysit for Katie while Geoff and I went out to a movie or dinner.  There aren't that many people who put their hands against my stomach and felt Katie kicking from the other side, over four years ago, but Stephanie was one of them, and facing the birth of this new daughter makes me think about her.  I miss her. 

And although I don't really grieve my miscarriage in an emotional way anymore, it has been on my mind lately, too.  It hasn't been quite a full year since I found out I was pregnant, but it seems like it, since I had my first positive pregnancy test that time on Good Friday 2007.  I found out that the fetus had died on May 31, 2007; this baby is due to be born on May 29, 2008, almost exactly a year later.  I certainly don't feel like the baby is cursed because of this; in fact, lately, when I think about it, it comforts me for some reason, as if this is all part of an intricate cylical plan. 

This is not how I planned this post to go.  This is where my head has been, a lot of the time, over the past few months.  But there have been plenty of good things, too.

We had a second trimester ultrasound, where we were told that the doctor was "98% sure" that we're having a girl. 

Katie started drawing pictures of our family holding hands.

And writing her own name.  (She can write all the letters of the alphabet now, nearly perfectly.)

My niece turned one.

Katie started participating in a new "liturgical dance troupe" at the church.  She's in a group with 2 or 3 other 4 year olds and one 5 year old.  She loves it.

As for that "other four year olds" part?  Katie turned four at the beginning of this month.  She is everything I was hoping I'd get when I wanted a child, and when I found out I was having a daughter - and lots more bonus things besides, and I told her so. 

Oh, and I've gotten a bunch of cute maternity clothes online from Target. 

At the beginning of the year, I decided to try to post one picture per day on Flickr.  I'm not exactly meeting my goal - I think I've missed 7 days already.  But it's still been satisfying - a tangible record of the past few months that pleases me to look back at, and reminds me in a very literal way that this year has not all been difficult and crazy-making.  Some of it has been downright wonderful. 

(Click on that photo to read the story behind it, because it's pretty awesome.)

It's just a little over two months before my due date, and we don't have a place for the baby to sleep.  (The old crib is broken and has pretty much had it.)  In order to create a place for the baby's bed to go in our room, we need to move the Ikea wardrobe in our bedroom out to the back porch.  But in order to move it to the back porch, we need to move lots of stuff back there down to the basement.  And it's possible that things in the basement will have to be moved around to find a place for what's coming down from the back porch.  Counting this weekend, we have 10 weekends until my due date, and I think we need to make them count.  Geoff also needs to complete his doctoral requirements no later than June (according to the school), and no later than we have a NEWBORN IN THE HOUSE (according to me).  I think it will be a busy spring.

But I also think it will be a good spring, and an even better summer.  The cynicism that's been surrounding me for the last four or five months seems to be lifting, and I feel like I am going back to my old self, able to see and appreciate my blessings even on bad days. 

I just wanted to let you know.

For now

From December 22, 2007

Karen's funeral started about 20 minutes ago.  I have been thinking about her family, her friends - some of them our mutual friends - and wondering how they are doing.  I know they can't possibly be doing very well. 

Karen and I were never incredibly close, but we've been friendly or friends since my freshman year in college in 1988.  Karen's college roommate and high school friend Tracy became (and remains) one of my best friends, and my college roommate Laurie and continued friend became (and remained) one of Karen's best friends.  For the five years I lived in Lexington, Kentucky, I saw Karen regularly.  We went to parties together, ate meals together.  I remember sledding together with a group of friends.  I was not in Karen's wedding, but both Tracy & Laurie were bridesmaids, and I still remember it pretty well; how happy Karen & Kyle both were, how happy I was for them, how much fun I had at their wedding reception.  I made and decorated the cake for Karen's bridal shower.  In the year after I graduated from college, Tracy and Laurie and I shared an apartment in the same complex where Karen and Kyle lived, right across the way.  My dad still remembers Karen from Laurie's wedding that year, how she danced and hummed to the music.

In the years since then, Karen and I haven't remained in close touch, but we've always been fond of each other and happy to see each other.  That fall, Karen and Tracy and Laurie and her husband all flew up to Chicago for a visit.  I remember us ducking our heads against the wind from the lake as we hurried to museums downtown.  I remember that Karen's ride on the plane to Chicago from Louisville was her first time on a plane.  Later Karen and I were both bridesmaids in Tracy and Tim's wedding.  I remember getting drunk on amaretto at Tracy's bachelorette party and feeling sorry for myself, having recently broken up with my long-term boyfriend Allen.  I remember Tracy and Karen comforting me. 

Karen had three children: a girl, Kellie, who is now 11; a boy, Kevin, who is now 9, and another boy, Kasey, who is almost 4 (only a couple of months younger than Katie).  I happened to be visiting Laurie when Kevin was born, so we visited Karen in the hospital and saw the brand new baby and the shy older girl, Kellie.  When Laurie was pregnant with her son Jack, Karen and I were both at Laurie's baby shower.  And in more recent years, when I've visited Laurie, several times we've planned a visit with Karen and her kids (her husband, Kyle, was often at work).  Last summer Karen & Kyle and all three kids came up to Chicago for a vacation, and Geoff and Katie and I had dinner with them.  It was really nice to see them, and Katie and their kids had a good time together.

Then last week, barely a week before Christmas, Karen got a horrible headache, and a few days later, she died from a brain aneurism.  Her 9 year old son called 911 for her.  Her husband was in Japan for work, and came home right away - they kept Karen on life support until he could get there. 

And other than the ones above, I don't really have words to talk about Karen and her death, how frightening and sad and awful and nonsensical it all seems.  How I have been grieving the fact that she is not going to get to be here while her children grow up, how they won't get to have her in their day to day lives, and how her husband is going to have to manage a whole new way of life without her.  And I keep wondering how or whether they will manage to find any joy in their Christmas.  I have been praying for their whole family, and for my friends who were also her friends.  I wish any of this made sense.

From January 3, 2008

The postscript to this is that on Christmas Eve, I went to work in the morning.  Geoff and Katie were home together, and I expected to leave work early.  Shortly after I got to work, Geoff and I were instant messaging each other.  He told me about his horrible headache.  We talked a little more, and then later, I sent him a message and he didn't respond, so I called him on the phone.  There was no answer.  I thought maybe they had gone out to run an errand, so I called him on his cell phone.  Still no answer.  A little later, I called home again and left a message.  Soon after that, I called the cell again.  It had been about a half an hour since I first tried to tell him something, and suddenly I remembered his horrible headache, and started to panic.  I thought about how Katie didn't know how to answer the phone if we weren't there to tell her to push the "talk" button, and wondered what she would do if Geoff had fallen unconscious.  I wondered if she would be ok in the time it would take for me to get there.  I wondered how I would make it, what I would do, if I didn't have Geoff in my life, and I thought about how much I loved him, and how very much I would miss him.  When he finally answered the phone with a jaunty hello, I was starting to cry. 

He was all right (of course he was).  We are all right.  It was been a hard year, with my miscarriage and Stephanie's death, but here we are, and I am still pregnant, and we are all still healthy, and we had a very nice Christmas.  I am hopeful that 2008 will be a better year. 

And yet I keep thinking about the bad things that might happen, that could happen, with no warning.  For no reason.  At any time.  I think how we are all right, for now.  And I wish that "for now" felt like enough, and that it didn't have to be.

Pregnancy hormones are no joke

Things that have made me cry this week:

1) some Christmas commercial for a jewelry company that features a tween-age girl telling her dad what to get her mom for Christmas (jewelry, of course), not because of the content of the commercial, but because it made me think about what Katie will be like when she is 11 or 12, and then oh, my God, she will be so grown up! and then I'll miss my little girl! 

2) re-telling (out loud, to Geoff) the story that the chaplain on ER told Abby in this week's episode about the boy who tried to lift the rock and couldn't until he used all of his strength, which in his case meant asking for help, because sometimes using all your strength means you have to ask for help.

3) thinking about or talking about Stephanie.  (Ok, the fact that my sister in law died less than 2 months ago probably would have caused tears even if I weren't pregnant, but in the past few weeks it has been out of control and without limitation as to time or place.  Grocery store?  Sure!  My office?  Yes, of course!  While watching My Name Is Earl?  You betcha!)

4) the night we were out of diet Coke and I felt really tired and sorry for myself.

5) the evening I had to stand on the el platform in the cold and wait for 15 minutes before the el came, and the fact that when it came, I had to stand up the whole time.

6) thinking bad thoughts about what could happen with this pregnancy.  And, of course:

7) thinking good thoughts about this pregnancy.

This doesn't even include all of the tears caused by radio host commentary, commercials, children's tv shows, or by reading about or thinking about anybody else going through anything difficult or wonderful in their lives or the lives of those they know and love.  Happy or sad, it's cause for crying.  It's a festival of tears around here, basically, is what I'm saying.