Friday, May 02, 2008

Month Seven: Part One

There are a bunch of things that have been floating around in my head lately, waiting for me to recall them, compose them into actual stories, and post them here. I'm kind of skipping that middle step.

He sings and plays with his head leaning against my belly. He's worked out how to play a Fugazi song on the piano, but he makes up new, less suicidey lyrics for the baby. We both love it when she kicks her father in the head.

Worrying about the baby. I hope she's doing well. I wish she could call, email, send a photo. All we get is the sound of her heartbeat once a month, and movements that could equally well be described as happy acrobatics or pained seizures, for all I can tell. Only in retrospect can they be described as perfectly normal and good.

At the end of the day, I get tired from being so damn pregnant all the time. So, lie down to rest. Think about how tiring parenthood will be. Wonder how we will ever manage. Despair. Realize that this depressing thought never occurs to me when I'm not collapsed on the couch. Realize it might be okay.

Two nights ago, I dreamed I had twins. A dark-haired girl and a fair-haired boy. Last night I dreamed I had a little boy named Ali, with milk chocolate skin and dark chocolate hair. In my dream, we didn't wonder much about how he could be such a dark child of such pasty parents. He was a happy, giggly little guy, who could stand by the time he was two days old.

I still half think that I can take off this pregnancy like a fat suit, just for a few hours, just for a sec. There is no more flopping down on the couch. There is no jumping up when my sweetheart gets home. It takes a while to lower myself onto the pre-arranged pillows, and it takes even longer to get up again.

He says, "Why don't you talk about me much on your blog? It sounds like you're doing this all on your own; like you're going to be a single mother." Alright then, let me turn down the griping and sarcasm and make a full report and a clean breast: he is patient and loving and can make me laugh even when I'm irritable and filled with heartburn. Also, he is strong and brave and good and makes dinner when I give up. All these things are true.

No comments: