I thought I knew what hormones and mood swings were before this last week, but it transpires I was wrong. I've had lows before, but I've never crashed so fast from completely happy to completely miserable as I did on the weekend. And you know what? I'm already back to happy again now.
Yes, I know. This is pregnancy. These things happen. It still doesn't prepare you for how it feels to suddenly realise that your entire life as you knew it is gone- and _it's never coming back_. At exactly the same moment I was freaking out at that thought, another one struck me- I am completely responsible for this child. Yes, me and my husband. But in the middle of the day for at least a year after she's born, there's going to be me, and me. And if I hit my breaking point, if I can't take another minute of it, I can't just walk out and get in the car and go somewhere. It's all up to me. Oh, and then there's my body. Which is gone. Go-o-one. I've only added 3kg, but I'm all bulky and huge. Okay, so I wasn't a supermodel before, and I famously stacked on no less than 17 kilos in the 12 months before my wedding without it bothering me a bit. All of a sudden I'm convinced these 3kg are the end of the world. Did I mention the thing about how terrified I am to not be working? That's right, in the job that drives me crazy. Or how terrified I am at the thought of leaving my baby at daycare and going back to work a year later?
As you can see, I've completely lost my mind. Or I had lost it, for about 36 horrible hours filled with anxiety and panic attacks and insomnia. Then almost as quickly, I was back to feeling pretty cheerful. I keep expecting myself to behave in certain ways, and when that doesn't happen I go into meltdown.
What has helped, other than giving myself a break and challenging the negative thoughts, has been talking about it with the ladies in my pregnancy exercise classes. We're all going through the exact same things. This really is the biggest change that can happen in life, but there's nothing wrong with change. Great things come from change. If I'd resisted various changes (like I'd wanted to), I wouldn't be married to this particularly great guy; I wouldn't be living in a place I absolutely love; and I certainly wouldn't have close to doubled my salary in 18 months.
So, now I'm done with whingeing, let me tell you what cheered me up today (other than M&M cookies, which worked wonders)- I went to get my maternity bra fitted this morning. I knew the cup size had gone up a tad, because my existing bras were not fitting all that well, and I was starting to get comments. Well, I've always wanted bigger boobs (it's always the way, right? You either want 'em bigger or smaller, no matter what you have). I've been a 36B since my early twenties, and before that never managed anything more than a 36A.
So, I was gunning for a C cup today, but no- that was no good. Neither was the D cup. I hit Pamela Anderson's size (36DD) and... well... no good either. Yep, I am a confirmed and actual 36E, one size larger than Pammy. Heh heh heh. Awesome.
See, if little things can upset me, little things can equally make me giddy. Them's the breaks, I suppose.
(Oh, and does it freak you out that there are websites with lists of celebrity bra sizes? If you're totally bored, you can go compare yourself and feel either deficient as heck, or full of womanly pride- I, for one, am feeling well-inflated- there ain't an E cup on that list. Mwa ha ha.)
Excerpt from Between the Lines
A memory wavered into his mind, shimmery as heat rising off the road in summer.
He was six years old, and he’d been in Stonehaven no more than a week. He was hollow and lonely, confused. He missed the bustle of Melbourne. He missed the other kids on his street, the whole gang of them and their scampy games. He was stuck out in the bush, all of a sudden, with nobody but Lionel for company. Lionel had spent the first day ignoring him completely, and the last few beating the stuffing out of him whenever he got the chance. So that day, he’d wandered out to the back garden, if it could even be called that- just a scrubbed, flat expanse of hot red dirt with a veil of tangled trees and shrubs behind it.
The bush.
On impulse, he’d taken a couple of steps toward it, bare feet burning on the hot ground. The air was filled with the lemony scent of eucalyptus and the fresh tang of the distant sea. He'd filled his lungs and the two steps had turned into six, then ten, then before he knew it he was running headlong toward the wall of whispering green and brown, pushing all his mother’s warnings about snakes and savages from his head. He barrelled between the first spicy-scented leaves and, to his surprise, popped out on a sort of beaten down track, hidden from view of the house. After a moment’s pause to wonder how many strokes of the belt he’d get for this, he set off down the track toward the most interesting noise he’d heard so far- the babbling giggle of flowing water, and laced in with it, the high, clear notes of a girl’s voice, singing.
He stepped off the track with his heart hammering in his chest, suddenly terrified as he caught side of the wide river bank and the rolling mass of glassy green water.
She was standing there, all right- a girl not much taller than him, skinny as a rake, skin the golden brown of tree bark lit by sun. A cascade of golden curls rolled over her shoulders to skim at her waist, tendrils flicking out here and there as she drew back her arm and lobbed a big rock into the water.
He watched it go, traced the arc with his eyes until it hit the water with a loud splash and was swallowed. She was singing, still, her voice high and clear. She was wearing a white dress that finished at her knees and puffed into short sleeves at her shoulders. He looked down at himself, his grey shorts and jumper coated in jam, dirt and everything else he’d been busy with that morning. He stared at her back with suspicion. She was pristine. The only dirty bit of her was her feet, bare as his.
If it hadn’t been for those feet, he might have thought she was an angel. Or a ghost.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
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5 comments:
*cough* Well, that's good to know! (G) What about Christine Aguilera? She's gotta be up there these days.
The week before my second baby was born, I looked at my son, who was four at the time, and out of the blue I had a moment of utter certainty that I was messing up his little life - unfairly, permanently, irrevocably. I could literally have been sick, right then, so suddenly did the realization hit me of just how much the baby was going to change things.
So yes, I understand what you mean - pregnancy is full of these epiphanies, and many of them are false alarms. My kids are each my best and biggest gift to the other - and occasionally they even seem grateful.
And yes, I won't pretend you aren't giving up the things you mentioned. Your body will change, your life will not be wholly yours for a very long time. But you are in the process of becoming so much more than you were - like a chrysalis, in case you were running short on corny analogies. (G)
The most accurate thing anyone ever told me about this amazing processes was this:
"It's going to be so much worse than you think...and so much better than you could possibly expect."
All the best!
Christina. Christine-AH.
Hi Claire,
Well, chocolate is always a good solution to what ails you *g*
And _wow_ for the increase in cup size! Welcome to the world of the well-endowed. Speaking from experience, it has its advantages and disadvantages *wry g*
Oh, you will be completely astonished at how much you love that baby. Once
he or she shows up. I like the excerpt from your book, it's altogether lovely.
Ladies, thank you so much for your advice and comments :)
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