A Collection of Fears Disguised as Complaints

17 weeks tomorrow. I'm not sure how that happened.

I'm still sick with "morning" sickness, albeit not quite as often as I was, it's still there. The nausea? Unrelenting. It seems that the only thing that makes me feel better is still french fries or french bread pizzas. Oh, or chocolate milk shakes. I don't know that I am feeding Cricket as well as I should be, but I'm taking the prenatals, except for when I forget. I'm going to boil some eggs tonight so I can try to get at least one egg a day. That way I know Cricket will be getting protein. I guess I need to go the store to buy some eggs first. Oy.

I guess I'm the exception to the rule that "usually morning sickness ends after the first trimester." I talked to my mom about this and she admitted that when she was pregnant with me, she was sick pretty much into her 8th month. Great. I can't imagine how I'm going to bend over like that if I'm still being sick at that point. When on vacation, I had to throw up into my handy-dandy bag in the backseat of a car while my parents were in the front seat and my partner sat next to me. I encouraged everyone to keep talking about whatever banality it was that we were discussing, but somehow, no one could and the sound of my retching seemed to echo off the beige seats. Finally I said, "Okay, I'm done! Now what about the property owners pool?" Nothing kills a conversation like a little barfing in the backseat.

But considering that that and my fatigue (which experts also said would end after the first trimester) are my only signs, I suppose I'm alright with it. I can't help but feeling like I'm not pregnant a lot. I'm still wearing (most) of my usual clothes with just a slight thickening around the waist. I'm dying to feel the kid move. A few times I've wondered-- is that it? But then realized it was a pretty constant beat and, geez, it must be my pulse. I'm still slightly uncomfortable talking to people about how I feel. "How far along are you," someone will ask. I reply in weeks and the querier will translate to months: "Oh God! Four months! How do you feel?" It's just not polite to respond, "Like shit! Thanks for asking!"

I beat myself up at night when I realize I'm on my back or stomach. Yes, still stomach sleeping. I asked Partner if she thought I was killing Cricket. She said no, but how can I feel so much guilt? All my dreams about Cricket have indicated she's a girl, but when I'm awake, he's a boy. And pretty much every single person who has held our ultrasound pictures has said to us, "I think it's a boy." We aren't going to find out. That's been the mantra. I wonder if finding out would make it more real? Because it's real, but not. Does that even make sense? Is there a baby in me? A wee boy or girl? Ultrasound pictures would indicate that was true, but the pictures are up there, and my stomach is down here. Just kick me already, kid, and let's get the show on the road.

A couple nights ago I had a dream that everyone was posting on their blogs about the baby things that were "must-haves." I think this has come from the fact that I was googling some baby products and realized I have no clue whatsoever and I am terrified about making the wrong choices. What if I choose a crappy stroller? What if I don't get the "right" developmental toys? I woke up in a panic about this. I'm not quite as panicked right now, but I still have no clue. And at what point do we start buying stuff?

A month or so ago we were at our lesbian fellowship dinner with people from church, and frog was commenting on the stuff she had already gotten for the future tadpole. She's written about this on her blog too and I had to tell her that scared the shit of out of me. Must be my superstitious Irish self. Or my cultural Jew. (Kenahora!) I told her I couldn't do it. Buy stuff. But then I thought today, "How did we get to 17 weeks?" and I thought maybe I should start thinking about getting some stuff. If I turn my head to the right, I can see the few things we have bought from the Osh Kosh outlet store in South Carolina. Seven things maybe? Ten? Two sleepers, overalls, some onsies, a pair of booties all ranging in size from birth to one year. I was dazed when we came out of the store. Then on the plane from Charleston to Atlanta, I had a small anxiety attack we attributed to flying and my vivid imagination. Looking back, I wonder if it was more about buying baby clothes than fear of hurtling through the air.

I start school again next week and taking three Really Hard Classes. And we'll break ground on the new house soon. So I'll be taking three RHCs, building a new house, trying to sell this house (and potentially moving into transition housing) , and stressing about when to start preparing for the baby. I feel like I've been asleep at the wheel, people.

We were talking about going to Manhattan in November. Doesn't that sound just great? I love the city. And then we went to the antique market yesterday. After walking around for about an hour and half, I said to Partner I didn't think we could go to NYC after all. I mean, I felt like I could go home and sleep for hours after only a few hours at the Washtenaw Farm Council grounds. How could I be in the city? I'd surely die.

And I know this all sounds very kvetchy, but when I think about it, this is all about feeling scared and unprepared. Am I still throwing up because there's something wrong with the baby? Am I so fatigued because I am just not exercising or is there something more insidious at stake? Everyone one of the items in this catalogue can be culled down to that binary: is it just X, or is something going wrong? For the most part I feel good and confident about most parts of our life even though this post doesn't show any of that. It's just that I am 17 weeks tomorrow. And holy shit, you know?