Monday, November 24, 2008

Mr. Lincoln

Arrived with a lot of pushing a bit of pulling and a magnitude of pain @ 12:17AM on 11/16.

A week and a bit later, the pain lingers, but the heart strings are proving much stronger a pull on my body, my soul.

He's asleep on me now, so the story will have to wait till I can type margainally better than Daniel Day Lewis cicra 1989

Friday, November 14, 2008

Coupla things

Hand not numb. Note to self: MORE TETRIS

The pregnancy book that needs to be written, a brief table of contents:

~Varicosities: Extremeties, rectal, vulval, vaginal

~Impacted stool

~Acid reflux: To aspirate or not?

~Vaginal discharge and ratio of clean underwear

~Moles & skintags

What she said:

"Write through it"

Yup. OK. Here I go. Writing.

I'm in NY and it's 1 in the morning. Everyone is sleeping. Some are snoring and I actually think I hear one of them whimpering. I've been playing Tetris for 2 hours and if my hand isn't numb tomorrow (today?) I'll eat the ratty bra I've been wearing for a week.

Waiting for this baby has become VERY IMPORTANT IN MY LIFE. I can't get away from it. I can't cook it away, errand it off, clean it to the wayside and even, apparently, Tetris it to my subconscious for more than, oh, 7 seconds.

Being one who births at home (more on that later), it's a big deal for me to be in my home for a good long while before labor starts. Well, BABY, I've not worked since October 27th or something! I'm fucking home. HOME!
I have a bead on every dust bunny, know down to the sheet how much toilet paper is in the house, washed the three toilets I could potentially be puking in any minute about nine thousand times.

Can I just say: I'm ready? And can you oblige?

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Dream a little dream of me...

Sorry, baby: Not. Even. One.

Last night I dreamt of Joe the Plumber, er, I mean "fucker".
I dreamt I shared a whiskey with Obama post victory.
There was the one about work when all those moms died.
Many (too many, really, for fucks sake) about Chris leaving me.

But not a single slumber-fueled-film about the baby. It feels odd to me, bad even. Odder and badder than I have been able to admit, in fact.

So, kid, do your mom a solid AND COME OUT ALREADY! Show me that you're alright and the reason I don't need to dream about you is because there's nothing to worry about, k?

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

ok, ok, ok... getting closer

I feel guilty being proud of our first African American president because I'm not black.

I'm proud of the man and his intellectual capacity, his sense of calm & rationality, his refusal to back-bite. I'm proud of his politics and projected policies-- and these things I can own simply as a person.

The other bit, though, that first sentence up there? That's what I'm having quite a tussle about

Sunday, November 9, 2008

another 24 hours

There is no harmony in my house today. The baby will not be coming. FUCK.

Saturday, November 8, 2008


What is it (my hidden prejudices, my humanity?)that will not let me stop crying these past few days. I am whitey, white, white and I am reduced to a sopping mess every time I hear a person of color explain why they love this man and what he's done.

My privilege is being torn down and it feels. Good. Someone on the radio the other day said she was overjoyed not because Barack Obama is black, but because he comes without a pedigree. That that speaks more to her than sharing the color of their skin. That they share a common history is far more poignant.

And then there are John Lewis and Jesse Jackson; mother-fuckin Alice Walker, too. I can't relate in the slightest how this must feel to them. I know I feel good, but I don't really know why.

I mean I know I loathe hate. That I want every human condition recognized, validated and embraced. I know that I CAN NOT WAIT to see Sasha and Melia jumping on the beds of the White House. I know that I can't stop crying. I know that I hear him speak and I feel proud. I know that it is an earth-shattering event in our sometimes not so FCC approved airing of history that this brilliant, composed, accomplished, loved and loving man is now the President of the United States. But I don't really know why I am so affected.

Obviously, I will never understand it fully, this emotional waterfall Barack Obama has caused for me and a lot of other white people and I'm going to have to learn to live with that.

I'm digging here, people. I'm looking for something in all of this. I want to feel good, be a good person. There is something here so deep that I can't even see it in myself, let alone touch it & try to figure it out, mold into a thing that do recognize.

In the meantime, I will rejoice in the fact that Barack Obama and all he means is indeed here and things will be different; that I do know