Posts Tagged ‘pregnancy’

Back when I was pregnant I would have random and baffling hours of depression – literally an hour or two when all of a sudden I would feel worthless and horrible. Though I knew it was a hormonal illusion, I did eventually pinpoint exactly what the feeling was: every now and then I would lose the sense of my own awesomeness.

I did not realize I had a sense of my own awesomeness. Like my sense of balance or my sense of where my body is in space, I had taken it for granted – that inner voice that told me over and over again “You’re awesome!” was just in the background until it was randomly turned off by progesterone or something. Fortunately this passed along with the fatigue and mild nausea by the 2nd trimester and I have been feeling my awesomeness pretty much consistently ever since.

But I seem to have another and contradictory sense: I always feel bad about my career. No matter what I have accomplished/achieved/done, I feel like a wastrel and a failure. Call this my sense of my un-awesomeness, and while it doesn’t dent my self-satisfaction all that often, it is every bit as omnipresent as its opposite.

And the only way to shut it off is to rewrite my resume. Seriously. Every now and then I rewrite my resume for something – I list my recent gigs I think “Oh yeah, there was that…and that…and that…I guess it’s not so bad after all” and that nasty undermining voice gets turned off.

I don’t know where this comes from, and I suspect no one cares (a combination of genetics, upbringing, and culture, like everything else, I assume), and as problems go I wouldn’t call it big compared to a lot of things, but…I don’t like that I constantly and instinctively devalue my own accomplishments. You could not by any stretch of the imagination call me financially successful in my chosen field, but artistically I have done some good stuff, and that is success; I need to honour and own that. And I feel like I need to work this out before I waste my entire life beating myself up for not doing stuff I’ve already done, if that makes sense.

Anyway. Sorry for being a downer! I assure you I am actually pretty happy with life. I just only seem to write here about stuff that’s bringing me down. I will try to post some cute pictures or something.



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– Bought a smartphone. So if you follow me on Twitter, be prepared to NEVER STOP HEARING FROM ME AGAIN.
– Moved into the new bedroom in the basement. It’s awesome! Unexpectedly – well, totally expectedly, since it is semi-submerged – it’s really dark and quiet there in there in the mornings, so the first couple of days we all slept well past 10. Even Madeline.
– Bought a new washing machine. Which Sears completely failed to deliver yesterday. They brought it all the way to the house then refused to wait 10 minutes while we took down a railing that was unexpectedly in the way. So I have to wait until Thursday to wash everything in sight. Insert pouty-face emoticon here.
– Got a waffle maker. I asked for one for Christmas, but no one got it for me, so I was forced to go all the way to Value Village and buy one for myself. Yesterday I ate little besides waffles. This was a mistake, because…
– Now that I’m roughly the size of a house I have been getting some fairly bad pregnancy heartburn. This is apparently inevitable if you’re as short and short-waisted as I am – everything gets sort of smushed upwards and you get heartburn. So my smug “I am awesome at being pregnant!” attitude is…not so true anymore. Though really, if the worst things that happen to you when you’re pregnant is some heartburn, rib-stretching pain, and insomnia, it’s not much cause to complain. It’s not bad as long as I eat small amounts fairly regularly and avoid certain foods. Waffles, though, seem to be an “only in moderation” thing.
– Sang in a STANDING ROOM ONLY new music concert. The show I did at Alliance Francaise on Dec 10th was, as I said, standing room only. They actually had to turn people away. This…this does not happen. Generally anything tagged “new music” is a success if you get 50 people out, a wild success if you get 75, and respectable if you get 30. But there were some mitigating factors: while technically “new music” it wasn’t at all weird; it was marketed as being for children; and most importantly, children got in free. If you were a Francophone parent it was an absolute godsend.
– Finished, but will probably never doing anything with the product of, another Nanowrimo book

And had Christmas and all that.

I’m not starting my so-called maternity leave for another few weeks, so my general malaise may prevent me from writing much, but I will try to get back in the blogging habit. Especially now that I have a smartphone. If my upcoming posts contain nothing but pictures of dogs or my weird-looking belly button, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Oh, and happy new year.

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Today is not only the adult Hallowe’en, when those of us who are too old to trick-or-treat dress up as sexy sharks or what have you (click on the link if you don’t believe me) and go out, it is also my wedding anniversary. So you might think I have super-amazing plans for tonight.

Well, you would be wrong, because Ben’s out of town playing with Friendly Rich and the Lollipop People. And I’ve been hesitant to make any solo plans for tonight, even though I love dressing up and Hallowe’en et al. And I think I figured out why:

Going out alone on what is normally a “date” night is awkward enough…but going out alone and pregnant seems like the most awkward thing ever.

Also most really fun adult Hallowe’en activities involve large quantities of alcohol, which is obviously off limits. There is nothing less enjoyable than watching others get shitfaced and being excluded from it.

So maybe I’ll stay home and watch the X-Files in my maternity Sexy Virgin Mary costume (which I’m not googling but will just assume exists). Or I might go to an orchestra concert. As Sexy Virgin Mary.

In other news, The Spawn has been kicking me so strongly it’s started waking me up. Can’t you wait until being born to start disrupting my sleep, kid?

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I am visiting my parents for Canadian Thanksgiving, and thus not likely to write much for the next few days. So go check out Kitchen Operas, a blog run by Lindsay, a fellow singer and a very good cook. She’s posted some great vegan recipes this month, including some vegan Thanksgiving recipes.

Also here is a picture of me taken from the side, so you can see how enormous I’ve gotten.

I swear I've only gained, like, 12-13 pounds.

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For a brief period in, I think, Grade 4, I was made fun of by my peers for having a big nose. I don’t recall it bothering me too much, because even then I had to admit that my nose was on the large side.

Fortunately I grew into it, and my nose is now a proportional part of my strong, handsome features. What can I say, I come from a long line of rather enormous schnozzes.

And it looks like I’ve passed it on to my offspring:

Yes, this was just an excuse to post another ultrasound

In case you were wondering, at other angles the ultrasound did show legs and arms. Also the sonographer kept trying to get the baby to turn over by poking me, but it was apparently napping and refused until I rolled over a few times. Let’s hope this predicts that it will be a good sleeper.

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So even though I missed a few days, my self-imposed challenge to blog every day for two weeks has been a success – between Sept. 16 and Sept. 30 I posted 14 times.

Best day for traffic was Sept. 21, when I published The View From the Council Chamber. New readers, however, soon realized that they could expect little in the way of political commentary and a lot in the way of knitting, dogs, self-centred musings about pregnancy, and other things of interest mainly to me and me alone, and so did not stick around.

Anyway, I fully intended to post yesterday and the day before, but Friday I was engaged on Important Adult Business and forgot, and yesterday I came rather dramatically down with a cold. Seriously, I was feverish, dizzy, seeing starbursts, and generally feeling very ill. If I had posted yesterday I imagine it would have been very Lovecraft-y and incoherent. Fortunately I followed my midwife’s advice – “If you feel unwell, see if it goes away after food, water, and rest; if not, call me” – and am much better. I still feel very scattered, though, as some siding for the refinished back room arrived and is currently taking up half the living room, and that plus two days of neglect have caused a sort of clutter explosion that I’m not up to dealing with yet. I find myself making detailed plans out loud about very basic things – “OK, I’ll put the sheets in the wash now and take them to the laundry to dry when the stock pot is on for dinner” – confusing Madeline a good deal.

But on the positive, my replacement DealExtreme tablet arrived on Friday, so at least I’ve been able to make snide blog comments while lying in bed with a fever.

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Last year it was the Bearded Lady Pub Crawl – I discovered that a plausible-looking mustache made me immune to catcalls and unwanted advances. Also that a mustache is not a hot look for me, but that’s OK.

This year it’s pregnancy. For whatever reason I haven’t had a strange man yell at me from a car/comment on my ass/ask me to give him a blow job since I started showing, and it has been *awesome*. I started to feel invisible, but in a good way – like I could just walk around doing whatever and no one would bother me other than the usual friendly weirdos you meet in my neighbourhood.

Then tonight I had the following exchange with a guy on the streetcar:

Guy (who was oldish, scruffy, and had taken off one of his shoes), tapping me on the shoulder: Is this the 506?

Me: Yes.

A couple of minutes later…

Guy, tapping me on the shoulder again: Is this the 506? Is it going to Gerrard Street?

Me: Yeah, they diverted to Queen for some reason, but it’s going to Gerrard now.

Guy: [pats me on shoulder]

When we get to Gerrard…

Guy, tapping me on the shoulder for the 4th time: This is Gerrard Street?

Me: Yes.

Guy: You want to go out with me, go for dinner?

Me: No thank you.

So there you have it, girls, even an obvious pregnancy won’t stand in your way of hooking up with a guy who doesn’t know what streetcar he’s on or that shoes conventionally remain on one’s feet on public transit, but totally thinks he has the right to touch total strangers and proposition them on streetcars.

There’s hope for us all!

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