On showing and cravings and such..

So I’ve been religiously checking my bump (or lack of it) the past few weeks. I do have a definite one now, nothing that shows over a top and  nothing that can’t be confused with a paunch but I know it wasn’t there before.  And I can’t wait to start shopping in the maternity section, can’t wait to tell the whole world..in short. I realize how this is much like me, I’ve never been the kind to try hard to keep stuff private. (My own stuff, I’m good with other people’s secrets). Every single crush and affair and such has been fairly public domain knowledge. I mean, there was never any harm in telling, and my folks always knew what was going on.. So..

Anyway, given all that, I’m amused when people ‘assure’ me that I won’t start showing until the 5th month or so. Heck I want the bump dammit. Maybe I’ll feel differently at the end of it, and start bemoaning the loss of my size 0 figure. I can see that, given as I bought a pair of size 0 shorts just last week so I can tell my baby I had supermodel stats (well some supermodels are that skinny and flat-chested. And while at that, mine are growing faster than the tummy so there..) before he/she came along. But from my 100 pound starting weight (yup, we’re all angrez and talking in pounds now) any movement on the scale does look attractive.

I’ve been craving meat. Funny right, when the legends have stories of icecream outings at midnight? And the kind that I’ve been off for a few years, beef ularthiyathu and chicken cutlet etc..I blame it on the half-set of chromosomes growing inside. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I crave some whisky on the rocks one of these days..

On showing and cravings and such..

Entitlement

I guess every mother feels a sense of entitlement about the kid. I’m not sure that’s the right word but it is the sentiment behind oft-repeated lines that go ‘pathu maasam chumannu petta..’ (roughly translated (for who’s sake? LOL :D..and isn’t this becoming a bit like LISP) : for having carried you for 10 months and delivered you..) I often feel I’m entitled to whatever the average mom gets and some more, of property rights over the baby. Given how much of a struggle (emotional, not physical) it is everyday to keep it. Of course, my chief competition is all too glad to relinquish any right (and responsibility) whatsoever. But I’m worried I’ll end up being one of those possessive high-maintenance moms. Fussy about every damn thing.

I’m already showing signs..like I won’t let any one else pick the name for instance. The whole world knows what it is going to be if it’s a girl. And if it’s a boy ..well I’ll accept suggestions but I get final say. That sort of thing..

Talking of sex (the baby’s..not the kind that makes them), I’ve always wanted a girl. (Don’t all moms? Even if they don’t admit to it sometimes. Yes, I want the healthy happy baby..but I also want a girl)..But over the past few weeks I’ve tried to get myself used to the idea of what if it were a boy. It wouldn’t be half bad right..The parents might in fact like that, having brought up 2 girls themselves (although again, they wanted girls both times..) this might be a nice change..In fact, I feel I’ve taken the whatifitwereaboy so far as to not mind it at all. Except for the fact of a certain (in fact, the only) sagittarian man I know. Aspergers syndrome and ADHD and mega-chori(sorry, no translation) to top all that. The terror!

Entitlement

Citizenship matters

The next person who says ‘Ha, so you’re getting him American citizenship’ gets one tight slap. For one, I’m not getting anyone any citizenship. I didn’t board a plane when I was 7 months pregnant to cross a couple of oceans and come and pop a baby out in this purported land of opportunities. Although, to people who do that..to them their own. There was a point of time when I had pretty strong views on the topic, that I’d make my kid an Indian citizen no matter what. That I’d fly back or whatever. But right now, anyone who has any clue of the goings on in my life know I have bigger things to worry about:

– Like whether the kid’s dad will renounce him/hate him/be indifferent..whatever. And I don’t think I’d help that cause by making him miss the birth and the initial months

– Like finishing grad school when the baby is due while I’m still in the Fall semester. Because, and I’ve said this on my other blog enough number of times, that is the one justification I go back to for everything that I miss in terms of my life in India. It has been  8 months or so, but I still haven’t found anything else to counter my anguish for giving up what according to me – and all things considered – was a better life back home.

And in this bigger scheme of things, the citizenship can take a hike..really. If it were as simple as checking a form somewhere and saying my kid would be Indian citizen no matter where he/she is born I’d do that without blinking an eye. Unfortunately it is not. And I’m really rooting for the US to introduce whatever law that denies citizenship by birth so people like me don’t have to waste breath over justifying our lives to people who don’t understand. And here’s what I think: if we had decided to settle in the US and wanted to I would very much want citizenship for the kid. Obviously it would make so many things much simpler for the kid. That not being the case, we shall have to see. Like when we go back to India. Or earlier. My point is, it isn’t the biggest thing on my mind now. But yes, I’m pretty easily angered by remarks – whether thoughtless or deliberate – in that direction.

Phew.

Citizenship matters

And then somedays

I know and believe that all shall be well. I’ll have the cutest most lovable and loving baby much like the DH (in his lovably and lovingly disposed times) and everything will be peaceful and good with the world.

The incessant nausea and MS vanished for 2 days just to be back with a vengeance today. The man was (as evident in the prev para) at his caring best, made scrambled eggs and served me in bed. (his cooking repertoire, unfortunately, is limited to that one dish although he thinks otherwise).

I’m blogging from work but I’ve not been doing any work anyway, and blogging is better than blog-hopping surely?

And then somedays

Ground Rules

I thought a lot (about 1o minutes which is a lot given current fatigue and attention span) before I started writing, on where I should draw lines, on whether I should draw lines at all.  There is no point drawing lines if this is to be the cathartic exercise it is meant to be.  Else I could also have put it one blog and saved the hassle of having two blogs. The DH will see it sooner or later (definitely before anyone else) and yes it is a lot of DH-bashing ..as is the case between the blogger and the blogged. Always. So he’ll have to square with it. Much as he thinks he’s getting the raw deal here (as per him, I got at least 40 percent of what I wanted..some funny math).

Of course, the other rule being the same as for the other blog. No re-reading nothing. More so here coz God knows if I’ll even open it up ever.

Ground Rules

Prologue

Because we should say as much before we say more:

A pregnancy blog. I’d never expected I’d have a separate pregnancy blog. But come to think of it, I’d never expected anything about this pregnancy to be what it ended up being. Complete contradiction of expectations. !(Expectations) or something like that.  So in the interest of beginning at the beginning and so we can get the explanations out of the way before we start candid motherhood excitement and such..

To call it an accident wouldn’t be right. It wasn’t an accident in the strictly technical sense. Unplanned is more like it. Which would have been okay in the normal world, inhibited by normal people. Regular people like me. Given 5 years of near-blissful marriage and a ticking ovulation clock (I turn 30 in March), one would even say it was about time. Unfortunately not so for certain others. And when said others have contributed 23 chromosomes or whatever to the issue (pun unintended, and forgive my poor biology-gyan), we have a problem at hand.(See I didn’t say issue again, no pun).

So we go round and round, each sticking to our own set of arguments. The first week after finding out was hell, when it seemed like keeping the baby was just one of the options – given the DH’s stand. This is where I start wishing I’d married a regular odd joe who doesn’t think so much. No I’m not saying my man is super-bright or that this antibaby thing is any sign of intelligence, wisdom or such. Just that he thinks a whole lot. What if he’d been a regular mallu guy who didn’t care to question the routine of marriage and then a baby yadayada. Again, no claim that he’s a superstar, heck I dunno how to say this without making it sound like I’m giving him credit, which I’m not coz he’s making my life hell. Also the time I wished we’d had a prenup or something like that. Unlike many women I know I didn’t fall for the DH for how good he is with babies.  That wasn’t even one of the things, in fact I’ve never ever seen him around babies. To this date. (That should have been a sign). But we never spoke about it before marriage, and whenever the topic came up after..he was like later..or after this job or this move. Never did he say he didn’t want a baby in his life. To be fair, what was a 24 year old to know about wanting babies or not.

The 29 year old however is very clear he doesn’t want them, that he is going to hate his own kid, has vowed to do no more than financial support, never misses a chance to remind me I’m on my own in this and doomsday stuff like what if the kid hates you for bringing it in when the dad didn’t want it etc etc..Oh he does take care of me though, brings food to my bed even and all of that take-cary stuff. But never failing to make it clear he’s doing it for me and not the baby. Never the baby. Calls it the tadpole when he’s in his bestest brightest mode (hence the blog). Can’t figure for his life why I’d be willing to give up what we had (beautiful wonderful careless companionship) for a crying pooping tadpole.

Me, on the other hand am the one who has famously wanted babies. Wanted to be a young mother (ho, what irony), wanted to take an year off and be with the kid. Yes, the career was important, but well you know what I’m saying. Gotto have the baby cake and eat the career too ..or something like that. I won’t overstress this point. Let it just be understood that we’re 2 people who are coming at this from two poles. Two people, who, if this were anything of a criterion shouldn’t have been married even.

But then again, look at us. We’re together, aren’t we. Sometimes I think things aren’t so doomsday after all. Someone like Vin who loves people in his life with the sort of intensity he does (and who knows this better than I) can’t possibly not love his own kid (23 chromosomes of his!).

But you will understand, won’t you, gentle reader, why so much had to be said. If you don’t now, you definitely will going forward coz what I say would make no sense otherwise.

Prologue