Body, mind

I had a prenatal massage this afternoon, a fantastic Christmas gift from my parents. I always love getting a massage (not that it happens that often; maybe the last time was a year ago?) and I was especially looking forward to this one, given the extra aches and pains associated with loosened joints and a squirmy baby's worth of extra poundage hanging off my frame. Also, last night I found it nearly impossible to sleep in any comfortable fashion, so I was really ready to relax.

The body-length bolster that I was to curl myself around looked promising, and the room was, as one would expect, suitably soothing. The massage itself was fantastic, thoroughly working all the sore spots I knew I had and some that I didn't. I was just disappointed in my inability to just let go, TURN OFF my brain and fully enjoy the moment. And then I found myself analyzing the fact that I couldn't turn off my brain, an endless loop of internal narrative.

One among many of the subjects that flittered across my consciousness concerned the music playing in the room: the obligatory Native American flute and oriental plucked strings. Who decided that this kind of music says "relax" to people? What if I would relax more easily to the strains of Bach or some smoky jazz? In fact, the more I thought about it, the more the airy flute and pseudo-eastern plucking got on my nerves. Counterproductive, to say the least.

Then, various anxious reflections on the state of my body and continual self-reassurance that any massage therapist will have seen things much, much worse and that's his job anyway and if he was grossed out by touching other people's feet he wouldn't have chosen this career.

And of course, the background hum--the insistent basso continuo of my days--of wondering about baby. When? is the first bone to worry over pointlessly, and then, scenarios of labor and delivery, and postpartum recovery and visitors and in general...life. With a baby. I'm constantly trying to visualize it but no matter how much I imagine and plan it seems impossible and distant and not something that is going to happen to me any moment. Technically, I could have a baby--our baby!--in my arms by this time tomorrow. If that isn't an overwhelming and scary thought, I don't know what is. Both because of what has to occur before getting to that point, and because of what being responsible for a whole new person means.

For what it's worth, though, I don't feel like anything is about to happen. My due date is another week and a half, and I think it'll be at least that, if not beyond, before baby makes an appearance. There are no signs--no further contractions, no nesting (I wouldn't mind a little of the nesting urge!), no dilation. But again, maybe it's just my inability to imagine it happening that makes it seem so far away!

Sigh. I'll just keep on with my daily smoothie fix (20 degrees and snowy outside and all I want to eat is frozen and cold food!), running around to appointments, trying to get enough sleep, and lots of leaning forward to encourage the baby to stay in a labor-friendly position. And then one day it'll happen. Just like that.

Ninth month

At my checkup this morning I met with a doctor instead of my midwife in case the midwife is gone when I go into labor (this is a real possibility, since she is away for a conference during the four days leading up to my due date). Anyway, he asked me if I've been feeling well and I basically told him that it's been a pretty easy pregnancy so far, and he said, "boring is good!" I responded, "I wouldn't go so far as to say it's been boring..."

Because even the most "uneventful" pregnancy is still so crazy and rollercoastery... nonstop fireworks, really. My body is an old dog with some seriously new tricks.

But what has been surprising to me is how much rounding the corner into the ninth month has meant pretty much all of the classic pregnancy symptoms show up en masse. Until recently, I slept through the night, never experienced the whole peeing every five seconds thing, didn't have backaches or sciatica or strange skin eruptions or weepy hormonal jags or achy joints or swelling or nasal congestion (and attendant champion snoring--sorry M.) or super tiredness. Heartburn was my main complaint, and in the first trimester, indigestion and food issues. Now? Welcome to a whole passel of pregnancy fun! The weirdest new thing is that I wake up with really sore finger joints, like I scaled a rock wall with my bare hands during the night. The coolest new thing is just how present the baby is; I feel every movement so intensely and I can practically see his feet and pat his bum.

The most WHOA nelly! new thing was last night, when I had my first contraction! I hadn't had one before, and as I was swinging my legs out of bed to get up and turn off the light, the whole lower half of my belly got really crampy with shooting pain. It lasted 30 seconds or so, settling down rather slowly. I asked the doctor about it today and he said, "Yep, that's a contraction! You can expect to feel more of them over the next weeks." And then, um, a *whole lot* more of them before we have a baby on our hands. Like I said, Whoa nelly!

As of Sunday, the baby will be considered full term (37 weeks), so this whole shebang really is imminent... and there's so much to do! But the likelihood for a first timer is that I'll go past my due date. I vote for that, despite the list of complaints above. I've got a chapter to finish and we have a lot to do around the house and we urgently need to get a washing machine...gulp. That's just for starters.

The human whirl

The Mister gave me a really nice edition of the works of Umberto Saba, poet of Trieste, whose life spanned both World Wars. He fought as a soldier in the first war and was forced into hiding during the second. The poems are beautiful in their simplicity and autobiographical matter-of-factness.

We returned the first copy to the store because the book was missing pages, and this morning I got the replacement in the mail--it, too, is missing the same pages. So sadly I will have to choose another book (well, to be honest, that's not so sad a prospect). Before I have to relinquish my gift, though, I've been skimming through as much of the book as possible, and I thought I'd share a poem (written during World War I).

The Egoist

You wonder at me and at the thing
so firmly locked in my heart
that I keep hidden from others' eyes;
because the human whirl may be peace to me,
because great gentleness holds fast in me;

because I seek the calm of meditation
even as bodies and minds are consumed by war,
I seem to you a really wicked man.
But wicked I am not, nor am I good.
You should know, then, that I am a poet.

Things tempt him, but not much,
that men make on the face of the earth
either with blood or in play.
He digs deep, deep is his treasure,
at the heart of the Earth, the golden heart.

Umberto Saba, tr. George Hochfield and Leonard Nathan

New Year's Meme 2006/2009

So I did this meme in 2006, and I was going to do the 2009 version, and when I looked up the blog post I found out I never even posted it! So this year it's a two-fer, from the me of 2006 and the me of 2009. Both were pretty good years, I'd say: wedding bells and baby booties...

1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before?
Drove a massive stick-shift van across Europe. Appeared on Catalan television and at the Palau de la Musica with my choir. Went to the gym a lot, and liked it. Became an official resident of Spain. Visited Budapest. Got pregnant. Told my husband we were pregnant over Skype. Spent the 4th of July in our nation's capital.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I did keep many of last year's resolutions. One of them was to get in shape, and in general get my health taken care of, which I am really pleased to say I did before getting pregnant.
A joint resolution that the Mister and I made was to go hiking a lot. We went hiking... once. But it was a memorable hike, with my siblings up the familiar slopes of Mount Mansfield! And I did it while pregnant, so I was pretty proud of myself.
This year I probably won't make a lot of resolutions, knowing that it's going to be full of the unexpected and getting used to a cute little life-changer.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
A couple of cousins and a few friends.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, and I am thankful for that.

5. What countries did you visit?
Spain, Belgium, France, Hungary, the US. It's funny to me that the concept of "visit" during this year has gotten pretty twisted around. Now that we're living in the US again, we "visited" Spain for Thanksgiving. When we were living in Spain we "visited" the US. This summer was one whole mishmash between the two.

6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009?
A whole little person made out of my genes and my husband's genes and God's handicraft.
And a completed dissertation, if it's not too much to ask.

7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
June 10. Holding a pee stick up to the computer's video screen, unable to speak because of the simultaneous, uncontrollable laughing and crying. The look on the Mister's face.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
See above. Also: moving from Brussels to Barcelona. Then moving from Barcelona to Bloomington.

9. What was your biggest failure?
I am still writing my dissertation.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
No, phew!

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Fortunately, this year we haven't had to buy much. One good buy was a local farm share. Also: some baby accoutrements, which are "the best" more for what they represent than what they are.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
The Mister. Obama. Our families.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Hmmm...

14. Where did most of your money go?
The usual...mortgages, rent, food. Plane tickets.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
This creature growing in my belly! The inauguration, Budapest, my brother's wedding, friends' weddings, last hurrah in Vermont, baby shower in Boston, Thanksgiving in Barcelona, Christmas in Maine.

16. What song will always remind you of 2009?
Bach Magnificat. The jazz cantata we sang in my choir. "Parlez-moi d'amour."

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? 
b) thinner or fatter? 
c) richer or poorer?
a. Happier. b. I *was* thinner, but then this whole baby thing happened and I am currently, shall we say, portlier than last year. c. Poorer. Associate instructor incomes as opposed to European politician incomes will do that.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Writing. Spending time outdoors.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Procrastination. Worrying.

20. What was the best book you read?
That's a tough one. There were so many, and right now I can't remember them all. I remember loving Margaret Atwood's The Blind Assassin, and Jeannette Winterson's The Stone Gods. A random one that has stuck in my head is Central Park in the Dark, a nonfiction book about New York City wildlife, by Marie Winn. It was an antidote and an escape this summer.

21. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Pandora internet radio! Not new, or much of a "discovery" but I'm behind the 8-ball on things like that.

22. What was your favorite film of this year?
I really liked Away We Go, but probably because I was newly pregnant and we were deciding where to live and the whole pregnancy/road trip to find a home theme really resonated with me.

23. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 31. I spent it with the Mister, and family and friends. A nice lunch with M. and a low-key party. Just about perfect.

24. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
To have made more progress on my dissertation.

25. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009?
Unfussy, work-at-home comfortable. Which pretty much means: jeans, simple tops. This hasn't changed a whole lot with the pregnancy.

26. Who did you miss?
My husband, during the part of the year where he was in Brussels half the time, and when we were apart for so much of my first trimester. My family, when we were in Europe. M's family, when we're here.

27. What kept you sane?
The Mister. My mom. Music. Books. Sleep.


***2006

1. What did you do in 2006 that you’d never done before?
Got married.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
Probably not. I can't remember what they were. Did I write them down?
Yes.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Only, like, everyone.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
My grandfather passed away in February.

5. What countries did you visit?
Spain, Belgium, Italy, Portugal, the US

6. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?
Can't think of a thing.

7. What dates from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
This is a no-brainer. July 2, 2006, marrying the man I love.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Making a wedding happen. Tied with: passing my doctoral exams and writing my MFA thesis.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Not getting my dissertation proposal done before the end of the semester.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
No, phew!

11. What was the best thing you bought?
A 75% on-sale wedding dress that was perfect.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
Our families. They were awesome with the wedding, helping with it all and never complaining.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
A host of movie stars and politicians.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Travel. We, um, sort of stopped paying attention to how much money we were spending on our honeymoon, and, um, oops.
Also: mortgages. I married into one of them, and signed on for the other only a few months later.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Again, duh.

16. What song will always remind you of 2006?
I'm not sure songs remind me of years, exactly. But the chorale from the Saint Saens' organ concerto was the music playing when I walked into the church...
And I will remember my house of love roommates when I hear Serge Gainsbourg.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? 
b) thinner or fatter? 
c) richer or poorer?
Happier, fatter, and, both poorer and richer. Poorer because I'm not earning a penny at the moment, and richer because my husband's earning a few more than I ever have.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Exercise, time with friends.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Procrastination.

20. What was the best book you read?
David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas. I looooved it.

21. What was your greatest musical discovery?
I don't think I'd be able to say I truly "discovered" anybody. I'm not very hip like that.

22. What was your favorite film of this year?
I'm bad with films. At the moment, I can't remember the title of a single one that I saw in the past year.

23. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 28. I went out for a schmancy dinner with friends.

24. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
It was pretty satisfying as it was.

25. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2006?
I think I'd be embarrassed to own up to a "personal fashion concept" even if, in practice, I have one.

26. Who did you miss?
For most of the year until the wedding thing, M.

27. What kept you sane?
Knowing that the wedding thing would happen, and then we'd be married.

New year, snow

Today has been a quiet, hot cocoa kind of day. The snow hasn't stopped coming down since last night, so we are enjoying the feeling of being blanketed in a soft sweep of white. The Mister stayed home instead of going to the office, we got to have lunch together, and we worked quietly throughout the day. To-do lists seem to be put on hold (and they are many). Peppermint hot chocolate in the afternoon was a must. Students still haven't returned to campus, meaning the streets of the town have been quiet and peaceful. We went out for dinner last night and had to try four restaurants before we found one that was open.

Oh, and the Kings made it to Indiana! I pretty much forgot that the night of January 5, the three Kings deliver presents, and when I woke up on January 6 sure enough there were some surprise packages on the breakfast table.

The baby's bum is currently wedged tightly under my ribs, and his hiccups are making my whole belly shake. He seems to be running out of room...his goal for the new year, I think, is to find a different residence. But he has no idea what he's in for. We finally set up his furniture, which doesn't amount to much: a pack n' play, a stroller, a car seat. Probably none of them will feel as cozy as his floaty round cocoon.

I'm so glad we had this time between our Christmas trip and the beginning of the semester. We've spent time with friends and with each other, and have continued to get ready (as ready as we can) for the February newcomer. These days have each felt like gifts, as the first days of a new year should.

Christmas week in Maine, by the numbers

approximate hours spent in pajamas: 100

games played: 11
(Nerts, Oh heck, Catchphrase, Trivial Pursuit, Tick, Apples to Apples, Go Fish, War, Old Maid [these last three particular favorites of our 4-year old nephew], Bunko, Boggle)

types of sweets eaten: 18
(although not exactly countable since this involved ongoing grazing, there was: pumpkin bread pudding, apple crisp, chocolate sour cream cake, coconut macaroons, raspberry coconut bars, toffee chocolate bars, caramel chocolate nest cookies, mexican wedding cookies, date bars, butternut squash bread, banket [Dutch almond patties], puppy chow, maple pound cake, homemade candy [truffles, peppermint patties, caramels, and maple candy], french cherry pie)

entire containers of Tums chewed due to pregnancy/overeating hearburn: 1

bookstores or booksales visited: 6

books read and/or purchased: 9
(I finally got to read Steinbeck's Travels with Charley, finished but was disappointed by Joseph O'Neill's Netherland, and got a beautiful edition of Umberto Saba's poems, plus a bunch of small-town library book sale finds)

suitcases checked due to unwieldy piles of books on return trip home: 2

Christmas-eve candlelight services: 1

weeks pregnant: 34

airport delays: 0, thank heavens

sub-freezing walks on the beach: 1

snowfalls: 2

matching t-shirts donned for matching t-shirt photo: 15

Christmas plays performed: 1 (I was pregnant Mary)

stockings hung by the chimney with care: 15

moments I thought what an awesome family this kid is going to be born into: countless

30 weeks

Ah, yes. I have a blog. I'm sorry I haven't written, and surprised I haven't written much here, because pregnancy is such a weird and cool and shocking thing, and I'm weirded out and shocked almost every day. And I love reading about other people's pregnancies, have survived by doing so. Yet this at the same time it is all so personal and interior and inward...all so our experience that I want to savor it with the Mister, and friends and family--writing about it just seems to place me squarely in cliché-land. Oh, yes, I suppose there's another reason I haven't written much: trying to eke out a dissertation, grading the never-ending pile of student papers that threatens to slope off of our coffee table, and making lesson plans (only a couple more to go!) have just been a *tad* bit time-consuming.

We flew to Barcelona for Thanksgiving week; it was our last chance to see everyone there before baby, and to show off the belly (I finally have one!). We filled the too-quick trip spending as much time as possible with our friends and family, especially the Mister's grandmother, and eating as much tapas and delicious seafood as possible (fortunately, these two agenda items were perfectly compatible, although not with my smooshed heartburn-prone stomach). We made a Catalan-American Thanksgiving dinner: I contributed stuffing, potatoes, and an apple pie to others' roasted chicken, salad and vegetables. It only tasted a little like Thanksgiving, but at the same time I was so thankful for...everything...that it was indeed a Thanksgiving day.

However. I don't exactly recommend a 9 and a half hour flight crammed into the tiniest seats known to man plus two layovers when one is thirty weeks pregnant. It didn't help that our alarm didn't go off the morning of our return trip and at 6am the taxi driver woke us up. But at the same time, the travel went well and I stayed hydrated and on my feet (although my ankles resembled tree trunks by the time it was all said and done).

Speaking of which, how did 22 weeks become 30? How did I suddenly turn into the pregnant lady who "oof"s and groans every time she sits down, stands up, or rolls over? I really do think it happened overnight, because only a few days ago I was still amazed that I felt rather sprightly and was surprised every time I looked down--what I looked like didn't correspond with what I felt like. But now the two are starting to come closer together: I am definitely starting to feel like what I look like. As one of my students oh-so smilingly pointed out today, I am huffing and puffing a lot when I arrive to class. (Thanks, buddy! I hadn't noticed!) Also, turning the corner into the last ten weeks makes it seem a bit more real--in the 20-something weeks you're only about halfway. But in the 30-something weeks it's all a countdown to the big day.

There's still so much to do! So much to buy! My mom, sister, and sisters-in-law threw me a fantastic baby shower in Boston the day we flew out from there to Barcelona, and in addition to being really fun and a perfect chance to see some of the Boston-based lovely ladies in my life, they gave us some wonderful gifts. Then in Barcelona we were also given so many cute little outfits and bedding and hand-me-downs that we came home with quite a nice start to filling out this baby's wardrobe and swaddling needs. (We got so many striped outfits--I love them!--that the Mister expressed worry that our baby might look like a broken television...) But it is just the beginning! I finally ordered some of the cloth diapers we'll need, which I feel very triumphant about, and we plan to make another run to Indianapolis for further baby equipment, including the sort of obligatory crib and carseat.

Christmas is right around the corner, and I know that will make these last ten weeks (or less?!) fly by. I want to savor them all, remember every drop of them. I love being pregnant, love seeing how my body is changing and what it's capable of. I don't want this to go too fast, but at the same time, the arrival of our son can't come fast enough.

Snips and snails

Last Thursday we went to our 22-week midwife appointment and ultrasound, eager to know what variety of human we would be having in February, eager to have a pronoun to use when referring to this child of ours, eager to narrow down our name speculation by half. The Mister had a feeling that it would be a boy, while I had absolutely no intuition in one direction or another.

As the technician rolled the rolly ultrasound thing over my belly, she pointed out kidneys and brain hemispheres and heart chambers, a nose and fingers and toes, femurs and ribs and the umbilical cord. At last, hovering over another grainy image of round shapes, she typed BOY in big yellow letters on the screen. The Mister was right! It only sunk in, a few tears escaping of their own accord, when the technician started talking about "his legs" and the way "he's kicking." And kick he did! It was rather wild to watch him kick and feel it at the same time, hard enough that the little ultrasound wand bobbed up and down too. We watched him (him!) swallow amniotic fluid, we admired his little feet waving around, and found his little curled fist tucked under his jaw.

We were able to tell all four grandparents in person, since they were all in town over the weekend. As the Mister's only sister does not plan to have any more kids in addition to her two girls, the news was greeted with special joy by the Catalan family. But a new baby is always joyful, and since my parents adore their three grandsons (and surely have quite a few more grandchildren on the horizon--there are five of us, after all), they were just as thrilled with the boy-baby news as all of us.

I surprised myself by feeling both thrilled and a little let down, too, sad about the girl that we don't have, even though I had no preference one way or the other and was equally excited about the possibility of both. I was puzzling over this to my friend, and she told me: until now, it was like I had two imaginary babies, and both were equally present in my mind's eye. Now there's just one, so it makes sense that I would feel a tiny bit of loss for the other. If it were the day of birth, the emotions of meeting our son would probably wipe away any lingering regret about a daughter, but since it's all still so abstract, I've lost one world of possibility, one of tiny dresses and a mother-daughter relationship.

But those feelings were short-lived. After all, I may still have that daughter some day. And for now, we are looking forward to *this* kid, the one who will wear stripes and gurgle and fit into the crook of our arms.

Punkin'

I don't know if I can chalk it up to pregnancy cravings, or to my annual obsession with fall foods, or to the awareness that next year we may again be without easy access to pumpkin-flavored goodies, but I have been on a pumpkin streak over this past week or so. It helped that we ate out and cooked a lot, in the name of giving my parents-in-law a taste of a broad variety of American foods (items they had never eaten before this week: quesadillas, French toast, breakfast sausage, grits, portobello mushrooms, pecan pie, zucchini bread, dill pickles, jumbalaya, bagels, fudge, grilled cheese sandwiches, and yes, pumpkin-flavored things, with the exception of the pumpkin desserts I made last year for Thanksgiving).

The list of pumpkin foods I have eaten over the past week alone:

pumpkin cream cheese muffins
pumpkin spice doughnuts
pickled pumpkin salad with crunchy pumpkin seeds
spicy pumpkin soup
pumpkin cheesecake
pumpkin bagels with pumpkin cream cheese
pumpkin pie fudge
pumpkin ice cream (two versions)
pumpkin gnocchi with sage brown butter sauce (which I made from scratch!)
pumpkin bread pudding (this is the most delicious and easy dessert ever: it impressed my guests and I'm considering making another pan of it just for myself)

When everybody began to notice my penchant for nabbing any pumpkin item from every menu and making as much pumpkiny food as possible, they started to joke that we should name the baby (oh! the name debates! they are raging) Pumpkin, or Carabasseta (little pumpkin, in Catalan). It's not half bad, at least as a placeholder until we have a permanent name. Our little pumpkin baby, round and chubby and scrumptious.

Week in review

It's been a good week at Can Cant d'Ocell (=Chez Birdsong). It started in Boston, where I made a quick trip to attend my nephew's baptism and first birthday party: a beautiful occasion and a great chance to spend time with my family. I figured I should take advantage of being nearby and childless--two situations that won't last much longer. My flights went so smoothly and quickly (what a novelty: a direct flight landing in the same time zone one takes off in!) and the new Indianapolis airport is so work-friendly that I actually hung around after arriving to take advantage of the comfy seats and free internet.

The highlight of the week was finally having the Mister home, waking up at 6:30 am the next morning (he was jet-lagged; I was restless) and discovering that the baby was restless, too: we could both feel those tiny extremities making sturdy bumps and thumps against my stomach.

My parents-in-law also arrived from Spain for a visit, and their first day here was the perfect kind, a real fall day with a chill in the air and warm sun, all the better to show off the lovely corners of campus. We were invited to my thesis director's house for dinner, which I was a bit nervous about but turned out to be a fabulous dinner party, and probably the only possible event in town that could allow my (non-English-speaking) parents in-law to converse with other Catalans.

Today we went to the Farmer's Market and enjoyed taking in the bounty of southern Indiana's fall produce. My in-laws were charmed by the Amish and other local farmer types, the folk music, and the abundance of pumpkins and gourds. And for further exposure to Bloomington's back corners, we drove to a few yard sales and found some bargains for our kitchen (glassware), closets (shoe racks and one baby item, a gender-neutral yet adorable pair of denim overalls), and winter preparedness (snow shovel). Total cost: $2.00. Tonight we're headed to the opera, which should be a nice ending to a great week.

Ommm

I just got back from my first prenatal yoga class at the local birth services center. I haven't been to a yoga class in months, since long before we got the news, so the beginning of the class was just a process of readjusting my body to the stretches of yoga.

Then, about ten minutes in, the teacher instructed us to "inhale, directing the focus to your baby."

Me: "wut?"

I had sort of forgotten about the "prenatal" part of this yoga class, at least on a physical level. On a social level, I was a little embarrassed at how underwhelming my belly was, in class full of women either about to burst, or who like me are around 21 weeks, but who unlike me are sporting big robust stomachs.

Between the distractions of belly comparisons (I know, silly of me) and reacquainting myself with yoga, I was completely caught off guard by the reminder that this was no longer about just my body and that there was an entire *other* body involved.

So then I was amused by this sort of freakish state of affairs and started laughing silently in the middle of our cat pose, which didn't really fit the whole serene flow that the teacher was aiming for, I suppose. I wondered if the baby was getting the good vibes of my movements, or maybe even doing a fetus version of yoga poses.

At the end of class, during the relaxation time, sure enough, he or she started thumping around down there. It wasn't very relaxing, but it was quite entertaining to consider what kind of baby yoga moves were being conducting inside of my uterus.

Does this pregnancy thing ever stop being totally bizarre?

About face

Here is a question that I do not know how to answer: Should I join Facebook?

On one hand, pretty much everyone I know is there, and I have received many requests to join, and I think it would be a nice way to keep up to date on people's lives, while they keep up on mine. The Mister is on it, and I see the value of maintaining connections with people who otherwise would be lost to my past.

On the other hand. Oh, the other hand. I haven't joined so far because on a practical level, I think it would be just one more time suck on the internet. I also haven't joined because I'm exceedingly wary of managing my online presence under my full name. There's a reason this blog never mentions my last name, the Mister's name is not public, I don't post too many pictures, and many topics are off limits.

I also don't like the jumble of everybody in one's life being thrown under the category "friends" and everyone being privy to the comments and conversations of everyone else. (Which, admittedly, is part of the attraction of Facebook on the voyeuristic end.) I tend to have very distinct and small knots of close friends from the many places I've lived, and I don't think the kinds of relationships I have across the board necessarily "translate" from one group to the other. They're all facets of me, but they're different facets. I can imagine this leading to awkwardness. Maybe I'm too concerned about how people view me, but that's part of being a quiet/private person.

As a simple example, back when we first told our family about the pregnancy, one of my aunts congratulated M. on Facebook--perfectly natural and very thoughtful of her to do so. But he hadn't told any of his work colleagues yet, including those who were doing legwork for potential job placements for him. So he had to delete her comment (awkward) and hope that no one had seen it. I can imagine situations even more awkward than this one.

In addition, having resisted Facebook so far, I'm really indignant about the assumption that *everyone* is on it. I have missed important news from friends and relatives--the "we're moving!" news, the "I'm pregnant!" news, or worse, "the baby is born!" news--because they assume posting it as a Facebook update means that then everyone knows. In other words, I feel like Facebook sometimes cuts into the (dwindling) amount of personal connection we have with our friends and family (even if it's just an email) under the guise of a purported greater connection. Maybe we're mistaking connectivity for connection?

All of that said, I'm still really tempted to join, especially now that we're pregnant. It would be a good way to let friends and family have quick snapshots of our lives and our growing child, especially as it gets more difficult to write more thorough updates, and the blog might be too public a forum for baby pictures and so forth. So I'm open to being convinced. Should I join Facebook?

Halfway

Today I am officially at the midpoint of my pregnancy, twenty weeks.

This is a tad disconcerting, because the first half went by really really fast. Granted, we were kind of busy (see: previous post), but still, if the second half goes at all as quickly the first, I should start packing my hospital bag immediately.

Actually, packing is just one of the many things that I am apparently behind on, the things most pregnant women have started to do by now that I haven't even begun to think about, like buying baby clothes out of the "just can't resist" urge or registering for a bewildering pile of apparatuses and baby holders and whatnot.

We've been concentrating on outfitting our house rather than outfitting a tiny person who's just fine hanging out inside me for the time being, so there's that. Also, we want to acquire only the bare minimum of baby accoutrements, limited to what we can take back to Barcelona with us.

There's also the fact that I hardly look pregnant. Close friends assure me that they can see a change (and obviously *I* notice the changes), but I'm certain that I look at best like I've got a bit of a beer/nachos belly. Not unusual for a college town. I'm wearing my regular clothes, and although they feel tight to me they look pretty normal. My students had no idea at all; I told a few of them last week and they commenced to stare at my stomach for the entire class, probably wondering where I was hiding the baby.

They say tall women with long torsos take longer to really show, so I know there's a reason for this: I had all kinds of room in there for the little one to grow into. And I should see it as an advantage, because I'm not yet unwieldy or waddly or uncomfortable. I'm sleeping great, walking to campus, eating normally, and generally just feeling like, well, myself. And I'm sure the ultrasound in a couple of weeks, the one that tells us if we have a boy or girl (if you're wondering: I have no "intuition" or leaning either way and am totally psyched for either), will help me feel more like myself plus one.

So yes, I'm eager to look and feel more pregnant, but for now I'm happy to just *be* pregnant. Come to think of it, there isn't much that's "more" or "less" about it, right? You either are or aren't. And I am.

Begin again

I didn't mean to leave a cliffhanger of a post up for nearly three month. Will the heroine and her Mister stay in Barcelona? Will they move to Bloomington?

But I did. And one of the reasons that I did is a little six-inch person currently doing somersaults in my belly.

Yes, the Mister and I are expecting a baby!

In fact, that last post, the one that's been sitting on this page for eons, was written just a couple of weeks after we found out I was pregnant, before we had even told all of our immediate family. When I said that I missed the Mister, I *really* meant it: I had never imagined that I would tell my husband the big news over Skype! When I said that I was tired, I *really* meant it: I was both travel weary and first trimester weary.

I had only just begun to experience the bizarreness of pregnancy, that sensation of being taken over by something other than myself. Although I had only a couple of days of true nausea, by the time I got to Washington, DC I was continually hungry yet uninterested in foods that normally are my favorites. I would have moments of bone-crushing exhaustion and painful episodes of indigestion, interspersed with periods of general malaise and achiness that made me glad that at least there was a good reason for it all. And that made me glad that my mom was taking care of me. Through all of this, the Mister and I (over skype!) were trying to make major life decisions about where we would live for the upcoming year, and where we would (gulp!) have our first child. Barcelona meant living in our own home, being close to family, and access to guaranteed medical care. It also meant staying where neither of us had a job. Indiana meant a job, for me at least, but beyond that all I saw were insurmountable hurdles.

By the time I had hitched a ride with my brother and sister-in-law up to Boston, collected the Mister from the airport at long last, and driven to Vermont, we were surprising ourselves by leaning towards an Indiana baby and had begun to search for a university visa for him and housing for the fall. Plus, as I turned the corner from first trimester to second, I began to feel much more like myself again, and we made the most of our week alone before the rest of the family arrived, working as much as we could but also enjoying the jaw-dropping gloriousness that is a Vermont summer.

That next week with my parents, siblings and nephews was a delight: we climbed Mount Mansfield, ate outside with views of the same, splashed around in wading pools, made trips to Burlington and Stowe and poked around in the meadowed corners of the state. This all happened with special intensity this year, because it was our last vacation of that sort for a long time, as my parents have rented out their house and moved to Washington, DC. In fact, as much as I spent time outside, I spent an equal amount of time in the basement, sorting through the boxes that represent my entire life from childhood through graduate school, as well as the bulk of my personal library. The fact that I consolidated the boxes from 30 to 22 does not sound as impressive as it should, given the hours of organization and the ruthless culling and the aching back bent over endless piles of paper and books.

By the time we flew to Barcelona, we had solidified most of the details of our move to Indiana, not that the prospect was any less frightening. We spent two weeks at home, furiously cleaning out our apartment for a renter to move in--a friend, thank goodness, meaning we only had to truly move our things out of the bedroom and the bathroom, although we did undergo a thorough cleaning and reorganizing process for the rest of it. We enjoyed a few precious days at the seaside, had our first ultrasound glimpse of baby, saw as many friends and family members as we could to say goodbye, then *poof* once again we were on our way back to Boston. The next morning, we began our drive out to Indiana with my parents' car--they've generously loaned it to us for the year-- stuffed full of our suitcases and miscellaneous donated items from my family, me a bundle of nerves the whole way.

And so here we are: I've settled back into the rhythm of teaching, which I suddenly remember that I truly enjoy (except the grading part, harrumph). We've outfitted our little rental with donations from friends, craigslist purchases and yard sale finds, and are enjoying the gorgeous, still summery fall weather. There's the farmer's market to look forward to every weekend, the walks to campus, the forgotten perks of a quiet small town existence.

The Mister is currently in Europe, because he had to finish up the visa application process (we were sort of late to the game, you see) and attend a couple of conferences. It's been surprisingly hard to be away from him, given how accustomed we are to long separations. But we had just settled into a lovely rhythm of life here, and I can't wait for him to see how his baby's tiny knobby knees can already poke hard enough to feel from the outside.

More wanderings

My midwestern sojourn has come to an end, and what an end it was! Saturday night I attended the wedding of two beloved friends, and although I had planned to leave early (because of my four-thirty-am wake up the next morning), it was impossible to tear myself away. So: three hours of sleep, a bleary-eyed shuttle ride to the airport, two cramped flights, and a drive home, only to throw on my dress again and attend the wedding reception of another friend (my flight arrived too late for the ceremony). I was ever so glad to be able to be at both weddings, but I did a zombie swan dive into bed when I got home from the second one.

Another reason it was hard to leave Saturday's party: Over the course of those two weeks, including a fantastic bachelorette party in a swanky Chicago condo overlooking the lake, and the pre-wedding preparations, I had gotten to know some of my friend's friends. And--as is logical, since we are all friends with the same awesome person--I was really enjoying their company. But when it was all over, it was farewell for good--when would we see each other again?

Oh, and the Indiana wedding was my first Jewish wedding ever! And it was so much fun. I do believe I shed tears during the hora, when the inner circle of family members widened and intertwined and spun and linked arms. So darn...sob...symbolic!

Anyway, the two weeks flew by in a good way. The first week I stayed with the soon-to-be-marrieds, and the second week I housesat for some people from my old church, which was a good deal given that I got to use their car and only was required to water a few plants. We cooked lots of yummy food, including my first batch of homemade gnocchi and the best paella I've personally ever made (which isn't saying much, but it was delicious). I spent a lot of time holed up in the library and had a series of meetings about teaching in the fall and about my thesis with the department chair and my committee people, which all went swimmingly. And speaking of swimming, there were bits of Bloomington summer fun in the sweltering heat: the outdoor pool (the night swim was possibly the most peaceful swim I've ever taken), the always delightful farmer's market, porch swings and strolls to the ice cream stand and fireflies and flowers. And there were wedding projects! Buying plants and jars and potting terraria for the wedding centerpieces, cutting out and inscribing seed-packet name cards...

I was reminded of what I like about Bloomington, and all the reasons it might be fun to live there during the school year. That said, there is still some debate as to whether I will actually be there in the fall. If I am, though, the Mister will be tagging along, and that, my friends, is a good thing. (Boy do I miss that boy!)

Now we're off to Boston, for just a quick stay and a celebration of my nephew's fourth birthday, and then down to Washington, where I'll be staying with my parents for a couple of weeks, until the Mister flies in and it's time to head back up to Boston and Vermont. It is a wandering kind of summer, that's for sure.

Living the questions

"Be patient towards all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves liked locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."

- Ranier Maria Rilke, from Letters to a Young Poet

Squish

This has happened before. I leave home to embark on a long American sojourn, and I abandon this little blog, which languishes while I galavant.

I guess the reason is partly because I am seeing the actual people who form my primary blog audience, and partly because I'm, well, on the road. And come to think of it, not much more time has gone by than the usual too-long gap between blog posts; the difference is that I've been more places in the meantime and family life landmarks overbrim the mere record of them.

But just to keep track, I'll enumerate my recent whereabouts. Basically, it's been a tour of the Northeast Corridor. Two weeks ago today (only two weeks?), I flew to Philadelphia, and so did the Mister, although not on the same airline. Boo. Then we drove (er, were driven) to Bucks County to attend my brother's wedding, and sing in it, and in general be happy that I have one more sister-in-law to add to my collection of Awesome Sisters-In-Law. They had a exquisite day, the ceremony was delightful, and the bride and groom were beautiful. Our nephew ever so studiously and carefully carried the little pillow, and forlornly asked at the end of the day, "Am I still a ring bearer?" There was a moment of panic before the ceremony when my dad noticed that one of the rings was missing from the pillow, but did not realize that they were aluminum stand-ins.

The post-wedding day was one of intense Hanging Out with all the lovely friends and relatives who were present. (As the Mister noted, the English phrase "to hang out" is a great catch-all that doesn't actually mean much. Case in point: one can "hang out by [one]self.") The kind of thing where breakfast turns into a four-hour gabfest with all the people who are coming and going in the hotel breakfast nook, plus snatches of the Sunday New York Times. A whirlwind Philadelphia visit ended the weekend. I hadn't been there since my childhood, so it was fun to revisit the Liberty Bell, take a carriage ride and be impressed by good ol' Ben Franklin all over again. I never did get a water ice, though.

After the wedding weekend a bunch of the immediate family caravaned down to DC, where my Dad has new digs for his temporary job. We spent the week eating and museuming and yes, hanging out, and I got some solid time to research at the Library of Congress (getting a library card is always a thrill, but this one was special) and the Mister had meetings where he gave talks and debates and so forth.

We made a trip to the Natural History Museum, too: after my nephew and I gazed at the record-length squid for a good while, he rushed over to my sister and said breathlessly, "Mom! I just saw a giant SQUISH!"

The Mister flew back home last Friday, and I spent Saturday in the back of a minivan with a lot of luggage and two adorable squirts as we drove up to Boston's North Shore. We had a lovely time together for a few days, and managed to get together with the newlyweds, tanned and honeymoon-glowy. Then down to Boston for a couple of days at my brother's with the littlest nephew, and now on Saturday it's off to the great midwest for the next chapter of this summer marathon!

It's a bare-bones record, but it's the last few weeks in a nutshell. Still, there are times when lists of places visited do not suffice; so much joy and even sorrow is squished into such a fragile frame. The unsaid will have to remain so, the lists a reminder of the lived.

Should

I shouldn't be blogging. I should be:

1. packing

2. writing any of a gazmillion emails I have to write

3. attending to details for renting for the downtown apartment (new renters move in soon! but too many pesky things to do/fix/print/sign/move)

4. finding housing for a semester

5. finding housing for several of the five cities of my summer peregrinations

6. buying plane tickets and changing old ones

7. sorting through rafts and reams of papers and books to figure out which ones to take with me, with is basically:

8. packing

I really would like to bury my head in a hole, ostrich-style. (Do ostriches really do that? Or is that a myth?)

Oh! I would also like to write about Hungary, and how cool Budapest was, but that's not what I should be doing.

I should be packing.

May days

I realized the last post is a little too "woe is me!" so I should add that despite it all, it's May, and May in my opinion is The Best Month. When I was in high school, my birthday was just a week before a good friend's birthday, and in calculus class we declared those five days--by writing the words across the empty squares in my calendar--a week of AWESOMENESS. So in my mind, when May rolls around, the awesomeness begins.

This weekend we celebrated my birthday and my sister-in-law's birthday and my father-in-law's saint day in an omnibus outdoor dinner, and I got to choose new clothes from my mother-in-law's store, always a fun prospect. Meanwhile, back in New England, celebrations for my nephew's birthday and my mother's birthday (today!!!) and mother's day and some April birthdays thrown into the mix were also underway. It's a transatlantic party for both sides of our family!

The weather is perfect, the kind of weather I wish it could be year-round, sun and breezes and cool evenings. Our plants are going gangbusters, the balcony doors are permanently thrown open, and even though I don't like the haircut I got yesterday, my husband tells me I'm pretty.

Like I said: awesomeness.

Happy birthday, mom!

Budapest

One would think that we've got enough on our plates, what with moving a truck of stuff out of one apartment in order to trip over it in another apartment, and with cleaning and fixing up yet another apartment so we can (finally!) get renters moved in. Oh, and there's the question of preparing for our trip to the US next week, which for me may turn into a seven-month stretch rather than a two-month vacation if I decide to just change my return ticket instead of buying new ones. Because it seems that I am going to be back at my university stomping grounds in order to teach for the fall semester. Which also means finding yet another apartment to live in (will we never tire of not living in one place?), and also implies the terrifying prospect of packing a suitcase that will suffice for seven months.

But no! That's not enough, evidently, because we're leaving for Budapest on Thursday. Thursday, as in the day after tomorrow. The trip--the Mister will be speaking at a conference and I'll be a plus one--is actually a compromise, because he was initially planning to be in Budapest and then Bucharest until next Wednesday night (we leave for Philadelphia on Thursday morning). I said I didn't that would be a good idea, except I said it in a slightly more forceful manner. But after we ruled out Bucharest, compared to returning the day before our flight to the US, returning four days before from a shorter trip seemed totally doable, and I was tempted by the glittering idea of a weekend escapade in a country and a city I've never visited. So I said I'd go along, and that's how I find myself about to go to Budapest.

Maybe Budapest will be a good break, though, because all of the other stuff is, to say the least, stressful. I'm nearly paralyzed by the magnitude of "to-do" and the spiral of "what-if" and the sadness of "don't-want-to-leave." The not wanting to leave Barcelona part is not just about spending Fall Semester in the great wide midwest; it's also about the Mister being a candidate for a (really really fantastic and prestigious) job in.... Brussels. Yes, the place that sapped our energies over several years with its uncannily gray skies, and the place that we just turned our backs on in a diesel-puff of exhaust smoke.

Which is why I'm counting on Budapest, one B-city that at least has no emotional connotations in my life, to be a clean slate of a weekend getaway.