Fear

I have been watching a lot of shows on TV lately that all seem to have to do with giving birth. And quite frankly, they scare the hell out of me. I am starting to get worried. Worried about giving birth, because it is going to hurt. Also, so many things can go wrong. On one show, Starting Over, they have a girl who is due to give birth any day now and she had a tour of the hospital. At the hospital they showed her the OR, where she would go if she had to have a ceasarian. It freaked me out. They strap your legs and your hands and they do the operation and all they give you is an epidural. You are awake watching while they cut your stomach open. It was too much for me. I came out of my room, and told David, that's it, this baby is staying inside. I am not letting it come out. If it wants to come out I will give birth from my head, like Zeus did with Athena. I can handle a bad headache, but something coming out of my vagina, or watching someone cut me open, so that I can see parts of me that I am not meant to, that's not my idea of a fun evening, afternoon, or morning. I don't know. The fantasy of having a baby is a lot more romantic, I think than the reality. Whenever I envisioned myself with child, I imagined being pregnant and wearing overalls. I imagined holding a baby in my arms and walking quietly with it to its bed. I imagined me with a one year old. I have never imagined myself giving birth and moaning like a mating cat. I have never imagined myself staying up all night to comfort a crying baby. I always got the best part of parenting while working as a nanny. I got to go home to my quiet apartment at the end of the day and rest up before having to do it again the next morning. Now I am not going to have that option. I will be responsible for it 24 hours a day for the next 4 years. Until it is old enough to go to preschool. I worry that I am too selfish to have a child. I worry that I am not organized enough. I worry that I haven't researched this issue enough. I worry about not knowing how to make homemade baby food. I know how to do the essentials in childcare, I know how to change a diaper, I know how to hold a baby, I know how to rock it to sleep, but do I know enough to be a parent? Do I have enough selflessness inside of me to be a parent? Am I stable enough emotionally to give unconditionally to another human being? I don't know.
On the other side of this, my sister had a baby a year and a half ago and the birth was very traumatic for her. First, she gave birth a month early and secondly she was told that her son has down syndrome. She was devastated by everything. She is the best mother, she really is. And he is a great kid. He has a wonderful sense of humor at only 16 months. And usually a kid with a great sense of humor is a sign of a happy kid, which is a reflection of how the parents are with them. I am proud of her. Now she is pregnant with her second and she is worried. And I think she has good reason to worry. This is not imaginary. The first time, she didn't know enough to ask the right questions and now she knows a lot and it is hard for her to decide what the right steps are for her to take. I had a miscarriage before this baby. It was very traumatic for me. I felt like it was a punishment from G-d for having had a termination when I was 20. And it was so painful to go through, here in Israel, with no one to hold me and comfort me. I felt so alone. I prayed for that pregnancy. I prayed hard for it. And I lost it. It is such a strange term in english. I lost the baby. Like it was my fault. I put it somewhere and couldn't remember where and I lost my baby. In Hebrew, the phrase for a miscarriage is to fall out. This baby fell out of me and there was nothing I could do about it. And now, I am so worried that this baby is going to fall out of me. I don't know when I am going to stop checking for blood. Every cramp or pain scares me. Every none pain scares me. I try to trust but I am overly cautious about certain things. And then what has happened is that I have dreampt for so long about being pregnant, now I am scared to death. I am 14 weeks today. About 25 weeks left to go...

FAT

I am getting worried about getting fat. All these years of worrying about my weight and trying to maintain a healthy weight and then losing weight to be healthy and attractive and now I have to let go and forget about all these worries. Slowly, my clothes are shrinking and I can no longer comfortably fit in to some of my skirts, as well as my shirts. I am most comfortable in my Victoria's Secret lounge pants and a man's tank top. This is my favorite outfit at night. By day, I have a pair of shorts that I bought here and the tank. Today is Shabbat, and it is harder now to find a comfortable outfit. It is okay, really, because in Israel, I don't go to synagogue so I can wear what is most comfortable for the house.
David and I have a running joke. He asks me if he is fat. At first I would say "No, honey, you are not fat, you are cuddly like a Teddy Bear." Then one day he asked me and I said "Did you ever think that if you think you are fat, it is because you are?" This is a call back to my first marriage. Once I asked Brian if I looked fat and that was the response that he gave me. It was a mean spirited thing for him to say, at a time when our relationship wasn't going well. Which happened to be from day 60. I wasn't fat. I wasn't even chubby. He was just mean. I explained this answer to David, who actually laughed. I guess the male sense of rationale will always be misunderstood by women. So this was my answer for a few weeks to David, as he asked me if I thought he was fat. Then one day, just for fun, he asked me if I thought he was fat. I said simply "Yes." This brought him to tears, as he laughed. Okay, our method of joking could sometimes be perceived as sick by the outside world, but to us, we understand one another. That is why I love David. Because on the inside, we understand each other. We have the same past which gives us the same way of thinking, which can cause disagreements but also gives us a sense of comfort.
When I ask David if I am fat, he always tells me that since I got pregnant, I am more beautiful. And he really means it, that is the amazing thing. I am barely showing to the outside world, my chest is bigger and my stomach is bigger, I look like I have just gained weight. I am clumsier, I have broken 4 glasses in the past week. But for the moment, I am content. Serene. I don't know. It is nice to feel like this finally and not tense and stressed and angry. Acceptance is the answer to all our problems today. When I focus on the problem, the problem gets bigger and bigger but when I focus on the answer, the answer increases...
Shabbat Shalom.

Onions

The other day, I was at the mall, browsing. I am in the music store, looking at DVD's - I am trying to find Memoirs of A Geisha, haven't seen it yet, when all of a sudden, I smell something horrible. Like rotting onions. There is this girl beside me and she STINKS! So I move away, but it's like she's coming after me and raising her arm right next to my face. I wanted to tell her to go and buy some deoderant. And the thing is, it is like she was stalking me, every store I went into in the mall, there she was, right beside me. Wreaking. OK, I get the natural thing, not wanting to pollute your body yadda yadda yadda, but there are natural deoderants, man. Buy one of them. I get that maybe she just forgot that morning to put deoderant on, but the drugstore is in the mall. Buy a new one. Put it on, and the whole world is happy. I am against not wearing deoderant and for some reason, there are a number of people in Israel who don't wear deoderant. I just think that we should think about other people. If we don't want to wear deoderant for ourselves, than do it as a mitzvah for others. I have a much more heightened sense of smell now. Do it for me. That is air pollution. She should have been fined for emitting toxins in a public place, as for that matter, should people who fart in elevators. Or Superstore (and you know who you are!).
I would like to give birth in Canada, although I have a very good ob/gyn here. She is very nice. I would like to move back home. I am still not in love with Israel. I even miss the rain. We do want to come back. We are waiting for the visa. I should write the play, Waiting For A Visa...Not Without My Husband. Maybe I could smuggle him to Turkey...

Sore breasts and Sore Ribs

My friend Abby suggested that I start a pregnancy blog for my friends who are far away. That, of course, would include everybody!
I am still exhausted all the time. This doesn't seem to be going away yet. My boobs are sore and I did a calculator for my bra size and apparently I am a 34F. It can just get worse from here...
I haven't really felt pregnant yet, since I haven't had bad nausea or vomiting or any other of the things that you hear that so many women experience. I am lucky. But now I am starting to feel pregnant. Tonight, I was doing a yoga exercise and my belly kept rubbing my legs. That has never happened before. I would like to say that it is because I am so flexible that now I can reach that far down, but, that's a lie. My clothes are getting really uncomfortable now. Most of them are too tight. It is time to go shopping for new ones. I can't, however, find the maternity stores. It seems to be an Israeli secret. Just like so many other things in this country.
We went for the nuchal translucency test the other day and got 3D pictures of what the baby looks like right now. It was amazing and it really made this whole pregnancy a lot more real. For both me and David. The baby's not so pretty right now, looks like it is the child of the elephant man, but I am sure that will change...I hope. We also saw it move. In one picture it looks like it is waving at us. So cute. We go for another one in a month. It will be interesting to see how much it has changed.
David is being really sweet since we went for this ultrasound. Tonight he gave me a massage. He made dinner last night and the night before and let me rest all day.
I miss my Mom. And the rest of my friends in Vancouver. With all your prayers, dear friends, perhaps, I will be able to deliver in Vancouver. Keep your prayers going and fingers crossed (is that goyish?)