3/15/21
I know this has happened so many times before in the world, and will continue to happen over and over til like the end of time. But I personally, for some reason, cannot fathom that something is growing in my belly. Like a pink flower or a bonsai tree or other foreign body is sprouting up in there, INSIDE my stomach right now alongside my intestines, my kidneys, my liver, surrounded by the rushing of my own blood. Growing into something so complicated and human and I don’t even have to contribute one conscious thought to the process—all I have to do is care for my body like I always did. And then it’s supposedly going to get big/resilient enough to pop itself out, by way of my most precious portal (which seems too small a portal for something like that to pop from- I remain double-confounded over this), and then it’s going to grow up probably taller than me, stronger than me, smarter than me. It’s a magical process yeah, but it’s also…just freaky, if you think about it. In an alien-invasion type of way.
I think at this point, I’m more freaked out than at peace about it. Like 70% of the time I’m wondering, “WHAT is happening in there?” and the other 30% I’m ok with it, just accepting, maybe curious. I wonder if I’ll feel like this all the way to the end, but I hope not. I want to get to that place of total blissful love and acceptance, if that place exists. I just find this such a weird state to be in. I didn’t anticipate how heavily-laden a pregnancy is with uncertainty and mystery and invisible elements… how these elements dominate from beginning to (presumably) end, and so in turn, demand a lot of faith— so much faith and support— or else you’re thrown off balance. Lots and lots of faith needed to balance out the uncertainty, the waiting and not knowing, your own mind and the fears harbored there- some fears you’ve never seen before, co-emerging for the first time with this new reality. The reality is so different from the playing-house, Barbie dream of long ago. I’m so happy it’s with my life love, that it was unexpected, that I am blessed with support and time and health. But at this point, it’s easier for me to picture myself, right after the baby is born, laughing uncontrollably at the absurdity of all that just happened, rather than crying tears of joy. The end product of this – a new person I have never met in my life, yet ORIGINATING from me and him- is so bewildering.
And the bodily effects meanwhile so personal and ongoing. When Rodrigo and I would be alone together, I thought THAT was the most intimate experience possible. Now along comes this situation—this other person never once leaving my body for months straight now, no matter where I go or what I do: sleeping, waking, anywhere. Eavesdropping on every conversation, smelling everything I smell, tasting everything I taste. His presence literally displacing my inner organs, taking over my body and my mind. What could be more intimate than this?
*
tonight R said as we were lying in bed, “I think our baby is nice. Because it’s not giving you any nausea or trouble or anything. I think it’s easy-going.”
3/17/21
if it was really purely a sex addiction, he could have chopped off his own dick. Even that would have made more sense and been less crazy than killing people. Killing women.
3/18/21
clothes and bras are actually fitting me now, which feels (and looks) better. Before, even with size xs – the smallest sizes- I always felt like I was still a size too small.
3/19/21
‘your heart is so full of wonder that you’ll never feel extreme pain. the immensity of your wonder crowds out pain.’ I heard this when I was just daydreaming, wondering about how the birth will be again. Just wondering and wondering.
3/20/21
noticed lately that it’s harder to bring up my legs in front of my belly (such as when putting socks or boots on) cause the bulge is in the way and it puts pressure on something inside. I have to modify the movement by sticking legs out to the side, knees pointing outward, when I do these things. I think this looks cartoonish and a little undignified, but what else can I do.
Major craving for past like two weeks has been salad, with meat craving falling to the wayside. All kinds of salad are floating my boat: Greek with the feta and olives, Thai with the cabbage and lime dressing, regular homemade with whatever I have- loving grape tomatoes w/goat cheese & balsamic, simple Japanese salad with orange ginger dressing- I was obsessed with this ginger dressing for a few days and tried to order it in bulk from the local sushi place, but they wouldn’t sell it like that- just gave me an extra side of it. Also happy that I’m not really craving sugar/desserts/sweets. If anything, when I taste something too sweet now, it turns me off even more than when in non-pregnant state. I feel like he’s a good baby too, because he helps me eat better.
*
Just had the most incredible conversation with R tonight. I just mentioned while massaging him that I was glad he was calm and that I thought he would be a good dad. And he said he was glad I was calm too, and saying this seemed to spark some memory in him: he started telling me how when he was young, maybe a teenager, he used to think that maybe the one for him wasn’t born yet, because up to that point, he’d never met anyone that he really got along with or clicked with their personality. but every so often, he said, he would think to himself, “maybe she’s born today. maybe today, she was born, and I’ll meet her when she’s 18.” I never knew this about him, that he would have these kind of romantic thoughts of finding someone he got and who got him. It was really touching hearing him explain it that I kissed him in the middle of his explanation. He said to me, “I didn’t know that she was already born- she was just in another country.” I replied how crazy it was like..how all those years, every time I’d break up with someone and think I’d never be in love again- in those moments when I felt so hopeless about love, he was already backpacking towards me, getting closer and closer, and I never knew it. He chuckled, I know he understood. Then this conversation went even further in that I told him the reason I was glad he was calm was because I was remembering how dad hit us when we were younger, and that led me to think: I could never imagine R hitting our kid- because of his personality- the way he is- and that made me glad. Which sent us both on this tangent of our philosophy of hitting kids, which totally clicks, it turns out. how we both think that it doesn’t do any good to hit them, that it only makes them confused and fear and hate their parents, and even though it may be harder and take more effort and time, that we both wanted to avoid doing that and use other ways to discipline. we also sympathized with our parents- he was the one who brought it up- that it was probably only because they were treated that way when they were growing up is why they did it to us. We shared stories and it turns out both his mom and my mom had to endure similar punishments: his mom as a young girl in Brazil had to kneel on unripe green corn kernels, and my mom was made to kneel on rock salt, holding books, as punishment when she was a little girl in the Philippines. he said he thought it was like torture. I agreed. it made my heart so light and happy to connect with him on this level and to have this conversation that I didn’t realize was so important until we finished having it. I love him so much, my husband.
Marriage Journal 