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Compartment 14B

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So... no call from Rome for me?

2005-11-22 - 7:09 p.m.

There are things I always thought I would do when I got pregnant that I donít find myself doing. I thought Iíd eat mostly organic food, for instance, and pay very close attention to the nutrients I was getting in order to provide an optimum, nourishing atmosphere inside the Belly. Iíd drink lots of water. I thought Iíd, not so much listen maybe, as immerse myself in classical music so that my unborn child could be soothed and have his or her brain development augmented by it. Iíd take up regular prenatal yoga every week. Iíd take long walks. Iíd go to bed early and always, always sleep in my left side.

I short, I thought Iíd be a gestational saint. After all, ďitís only 9 monthsĒ so who wouldnít make the extra effort for such a short time?

Oh, itís not like Iím smoking crack, (or anything at all of course) or drinking or anything extremely unhealthy. I still go to the gym and I donít polish off a tub of Ben & Jerryís in a sitting. I concentrated on nutrient-dense food in the first half and now have relaxed a bit and moved on to more fuel-oriented foods. I go to bed when Iím tired or when CSI is over, whichever comes later. But I still bypass the organic section more often than not, I have eaten a few hotdogs and drunk the Chinese tea that comes with dim sum from time to time and yes, Iíve been using chocolate frozen yogurt to quell the fiery burn of indigestion more evenings than not lately. And Iíve hardly listened to music at all (except for radio in the car and when my alarm goes offÖ plus Iíve had an inexplicable urge to listen to Paul Simonís ďGracelandĒ over and over again, after years of not hearing it.) The coming of the cold weather has curtailed much of our walking.

In short, Iíve probably been more ďgestational humanĒ than I thought Iíd have to be.

Nine months? Is a looong time my friends. Sure, in a way it goes by fast, in another though I feel like Iíve been pregnant FOREVER. It seems like long time ago that I had to stop eying cute new clothing styles and cast my gaze in the direction of maternity clothes. I feel as though Iíve been reading about pregnancy forever, and truthfully, I just got tired of monitoring my every action with an eye Belly-ward. Those cute new styles? Were spring styles, and since then thereís been a progression of summer, fall, and now winter and Christmas-party wear, none of which have I been able to buy in anything but Buddha shapes.

People, I am tired already of worrying about nipple leakage, and I havenít even started nursing yet. I canít imagine the torrents that will drench the front of my shirts if feeling Grommet move as I stroke my Belly already provokes oozing.

Iím already getting frustrated with the fact that I come home relatively early on weekend evenings and J goes to play or watch that cursed hockey, or that, no matter how much I intend to finally clean out the closet in the Gromís room, I just donít much feel like doing anything but put my feet up. I donít really like being the lump I feel like Iím turning into.

Where is that burst of ďnestingĒ energy that will spur me to clean up this place? And how isolated will I feel when Iím home 24/7 with a small, demanding alien creature? And why donít I just shut up and stop whining already and drink my organic soymilk while perching headphones channeling Mozart on my swelling abdomen if Iím sitting around anyway?

The real fear:
Does all this mean Iím going to be a bad mother?

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