Dear Frijole,
Things are really starting to happen now.
This week, I am 20 weeks pregnant with you--5 months! My belly is changing all the time as you grow, and apparently you are currently the size of a cantaloupe. On Monday I felt you move for the first time, and I was so happy. The feeling was very subtle, like swishy little flutters. I told your daddy, grandma, and auntie right away because I was so excited to finally, finally feel you in there.
While I feel pretty good overall, two things are a bit inconvenient. First, my face is breaking out like crazy just in the last few days. It's like puberty all over again and certainly doesn't do much to make me feel pretty. There is also the groin pain that makes me feel like I've ridden a horse across a desert. I'm not sure if he had a name or not. Everything I read says this is normal as things are "stretching out and loosening up" down there. Your grandma said it was my pelvis bones spreading apart.
Oh, dear god.
That's the other thing. I'm having a bit of anxiety about how and where you are going to come out. Every week I happily read how big you're getting and then I immediately feel trepidation. There's no turning back, my little cantaloupe! I got upset with your daddy the other night when I mentioned this to him and he joked, "Yeah, she's going to break you off in a couple of months." I can't tell you how not funny I found this statement.
Tomorrow I have another ultrasound and--assuming you uncross your legs this time and cooperate--we will find out if you are a Frijolito or a Frijolita. I've made no secret about the fact that I want you to be a little girl. I know that I will adore you no matter which one your are (even if it's somewhere in between), but it's just that I've spent an awful lot of time taking care of little boys in my life and would really like the chance to buy you little sundresses. I am very nervous for tomorrow to come. The waiting has been killing me.
Finally, I'm starting to gradually buy things to get ready for you. I ordered you a bathtub, health and grooming supplies, and baby toiletries. It feels momentous because these are the first baby things I've bought myself despite the fact that I've gazed longingly at these items since I was about 24 years old. Your grandma is sending a car seat and stroller for you and I'm excited to get them. I saw them online and they are lovely. Plus, your daddy and I picked out the crib we want to buy in a couple of months.
We're getting there, Frijole, and I can't wait to meet you.
Love,
Mama
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Know your onion
Dear Frijole,
I haven't written much here. Actually, I haven't written anywhere at all. Even though my head is filled with words constantly, I don't seem to have the energy to put them into anything bigger than a text message. It's not your fault. It's the rest of the world's fault. It's my fault.
I am 17 weeks pregnant with you and, honestly, there isn't a moment when I don't think about you. I never quite know what to say when people ask, "How is the baby?" You're so quiet in there! I THINK you're okay. I'm not having any problems. Our ultrasound and bloodwork have all come back showing that you are healthy and busy developing. You SEEM to be okay. I just wish I could feel you move. I keep hearing and reading that this should happen any time now, and I keep waiting and waiting. Sometimes I feel an uneasiness within me. It's hard to explain--like a restlessness that does not originate with me. At those times I feel certain you must be moving around in there but I just cannot feel it yet. I am told it will happen all too soon and that, at times, I will want to go to sleep and wish you would STOP moving. It's hard for me to imagine what that must be like.
I'm struggling to make the right decisions for us, Frijole. My psychiatrist and I butt heads over what is right for me, for you. She is strongly advocating that I undergo electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) to treat my severe and endless depression. After learning more about it, I don't think that I can take the risk involved. And so I struggle to find other ways to take care of myself. Of both of us.
Most of the time I feel so far away and alone, and the obstacles between here and there seem insurmountable. It is still true that not very many people know about you, and I feel very strongly that it has to stay that way until you are born. There's plenty of other people's criticisms of my life and my decisions to go around, and I feel like I will lose my mind if they criticize the existence of you, too.
You. My one little light.
In three weeks we will have another ultrasound and I should be able to find out if you are a Frijolita or a Frijolito. I can't wait to see you again. In the meantime, I will keep plodding along, doing my very best.
All my love,
Mama
I haven't written much here. Actually, I haven't written anywhere at all. Even though my head is filled with words constantly, I don't seem to have the energy to put them into anything bigger than a text message. It's not your fault. It's the rest of the world's fault. It's my fault.
I am 17 weeks pregnant with you and, honestly, there isn't a moment when I don't think about you. I never quite know what to say when people ask, "How is the baby?" You're so quiet in there! I THINK you're okay. I'm not having any problems. Our ultrasound and bloodwork have all come back showing that you are healthy and busy developing. You SEEM to be okay. I just wish I could feel you move. I keep hearing and reading that this should happen any time now, and I keep waiting and waiting. Sometimes I feel an uneasiness within me. It's hard to explain--like a restlessness that does not originate with me. At those times I feel certain you must be moving around in there but I just cannot feel it yet. I am told it will happen all too soon and that, at times, I will want to go to sleep and wish you would STOP moving. It's hard for me to imagine what that must be like.
I'm struggling to make the right decisions for us, Frijole. My psychiatrist and I butt heads over what is right for me, for you. She is strongly advocating that I undergo electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) to treat my severe and endless depression. After learning more about it, I don't think that I can take the risk involved. And so I struggle to find other ways to take care of myself. Of both of us.
Most of the time I feel so far away and alone, and the obstacles between here and there seem insurmountable. It is still true that not very many people know about you, and I feel very strongly that it has to stay that way until you are born. There's plenty of other people's criticisms of my life and my decisions to go around, and I feel like I will lose my mind if they criticize the existence of you, too.
You. My one little light.
In three weeks we will have another ultrasound and I should be able to find out if you are a Frijolita or a Frijolito. I can't wait to see you again. In the meantime, I will keep plodding along, doing my very best.
All my love,
Mama
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