The Gist

Today was sleepy. I even tried turning in around 7pm. It would have worked. It did work for an hour or so. Up until Jesse came in to be adorable, and woke me up in the process. Closing the balcony door to keep the cold out, and leaving a chocolate truffle on my night stand. Kissing me on the cheek and whispering, "I love you."
Two minutes later I was pulling my pajama pants back on and shuffling down stairs for a glass of soy milk to go with my truffle. And for two more truffles.
One truffle, Jesse?
As he saw me come down stairs he got up to meet me at the bottom. Tilting his head to the side and giving a guilty smile.
Taking my sleepy face into the crook of his neck, he hugged me and apologized for waking me up.
"Yes you did."
But it was fine. He followed me back up to the room with Missouri Breaks to pop in the dvd player. After only a few minutes I turned to try and sleep. But really, I only couldn't watch a movie anymore. I looked blankly at the ceiling. Jesse noticed.
"Nothing's wrong."
Except that I don't really feel like myself. Can't think much. Unable to experience the world around me in a present manner.
Jesse rubbed my back in a circular motion.
Tears sprung up in my eyes, and then retreated.
The feeling passed.
We laughed about something.
We said sweet things to each other.

Once again, sleep wouldn't come. So we both came down stairs for second dinner. Jesse made left over spaghetti and a pancake. I made veggie hot dogs wrapped in tortillas.

There's a lot to get upset about.
But there's no reason to get upset.
As we walked this afternoon, we talked about that.
About recognizing that moment when the people or events around you, get so bizarre, that you're only course of action is to completely dismiss them.
Like when one baby felt very serious, and then another appeared, and it all became very funny.
Or when you get blind sighted by someone, and can't figure out why you ever made them perfect to begin with.

This is how I feel:
Sometimes something huge drops down from the sky and lands right in front of you. It's not what some people call a "hurdle".
And it can't be avoided, dodged, or conquered.
The only course of action is to walk your way around it.
It takes a long time. It's inconvenient. It makes you feel like a rollie pollie some kid arbitrarily picked up and set down somewhere else. Beginning your life long trek all over again.
Forget how long it will take you to get there.
Forget how it felt right before everything changed.
None of it matters.
You are where you are.
And where you're trying to get to isn't really anywhere at all.
Start walking.

To whom it may concern.

Hello there!
I see that you've decided to pick my belly as your temporary residence. Welcome! Benvenuti! (as the Italians would say)
I can see that you're getting cozy. Which is to say, I'm looking a little chubby most recently, and sitting just doesn't feel right these days unless I loosen a button.
I know it's too soon, technically. I realize that you're probably a lot more, ehem, gas than babies right now. But I can't resist the urge to do a "pat pat rub" every once in a while. I can't help but smile a little more sweetly. And if someone happens to notice that I'm glowing, well, that's not my fault now is it?
Maybe I'm doing a bit more than my part when I stock breakfast sausage on my plate next to waffles and fried plantains. I'm just pretty sure that you probably enjoy that stuff as much as I do.
And I got plantains.
They're a fruit.
I haven't seen them listed in any of my pregnancy books, but they've gotta have magnesium or something.
And I'm eating the good stuff too.
I guess food is just the first way we have to communicate with each other.
For example, you tell me you don't like nuts.
CHECK.
Apparently you like meat.
Okay.
I could fight you on this, but I'm afraid I'm easily influenced by people I like.
And for some reason I like you a whole lot.
Even though you make it so that I can't poop, but pee every five minutes.
Even though the two of you will make everything that preceded you a vague memory.
So that one day I'll wonder how I ever could have wanted to stay up all night.
I can't help it. I've got feelings.
I could go on pretending you're not there for another few weeks, but I think I'll go ahead and start loving you instead.
But I'm not rushing you. You just keep growing your creepy little fish bodies til they look like human.
And when you're ready; don't be shy. You can visit my rib cage with the heel of your foot as soon as you feel like it.
Until then. We'll just keep on eating, I guess.
Yours Truly,
The warm tissuey nutritive thing that sometimes makes sounds like
swoosh-glom-gurgle, who's altitude pressurization varies according the days of the week.
a.k.a
mom

8 weeks

Tomorrow I find out if it's really, really true.

I guess this is common. A woman not believing she's pregnant til a baby's laid on her chest. I'm only eight weeks along, with hardly any nausea. My only sturdy symptoms are breasts that feel like they've been through surgery, and constipation. I fail to mention that one to Jesse.

For now.

I guess at some point it will all get pretty comical. I'll fart in bed and feel no shame in asking for a third helping.

So these moments, right now, are the last. The last in which we are right here. We didn't get as much new couple time as I had expected. Our relationship marched forward and hardly looked back.

A vague fear grows a little bigger in the back of my conscious. That this can't be right. We're doing something wrong. This isn't how it's done!

But there's no place to position my fear, so is there really cause for alarm?

I'm not afraid about this baby. I know we're going to be great parents, and really, we don't have many aspirations that will be hindered by this. In all truth, this was our aspiration. It was only set off in a more time appropriate distance.

Had I not ended this year with pregnancy fireworks, it would have been one of great change anyway. Something clicked in my head. It took a long time to get there, but once it happened, it was set. I don't find myself very important anymore, and dually value life more than ever. I'm happy to be simple. Be loved and love a few people dearly. And hopefully be listened to at times.

I am listened to.

So I find I don't talk so loud anymore.

When the first test read positive, I told Jesse it was inconclusive. He asked me how a test reads inconclusive. I vaguely referred to multiple windows on the stick. He didn't question it.

I figured I had to have done something wrong and I didn't want him to start reacting yet.

An hour later I took the other test and once again it read positive.

As Jesse folded his clothes back into his bag, we talked about when we should leave Johnny's for JFK.

Here it go's.

I sighed, and for some reason, shamefully, said, "The test is positive."

I still couldn't manage to say, "I'm pregnant."

Jesse quietly moved up to the couch and hugged me. I didn't feel an ounce of insincerity when he said that he was happy. But that hadn't been the source of my shame. I knew Jesse was up for it. I feel so right about him being the one. But me? Can I do it? Just how much will I change?

As the weeks have passed, I've been pretty distracted. Unable to talk very long on the phone. Not telling people means that there's not much left for me to say.

I hate to ignore the phone calls and emails but soon I'll be able to explain myself to Colleen and dad and Andy and Josh.

For now I eat my beans, take my prenatal vitamins, and study passionately, because I can't stop obsessing over what I'll need to do to prepare.

I am scared of having regrets, and realize that I will have them. I am scared that I already don't really feel like teaching my new baby French, as I had always thought I would.

For a week or so after the test, I tried not to talk about it very much. I told Jesse that many pregnancies miscarry and we shouldn't get too involved yet. One night while sitting at the kitchen table, we started discussing the bare bones of it. Two minutes in I was crying unexpectedly.

"I don't know how I'm going to do it with my job. I couldn't leave a baby at home."

Jesse said, "We'll work it out before we get there."

Then he said what will probably stick with me in any moment I feel insecurity.

He said, "Rachel, if we were completely taken care of financially, would you have any other major concerns with this?"

I said, "No. I guess I wouldn't."

A smile grew over his face and he said, "That is so good. If all we have to worry about is money, we are in really good shape."

Today he left for a short camping trip with his dad and brother. I couldn't schedule my doctor's appointments for any other time, but it was very important to me that Jesse didn't cancel his trip as it probably wont come along again.

As I walked into the office this morning, the doctor shook my hand and said congratulations. I giggled a little and said thank you.

He made comments like, "Tomorrow when we do the ultrasound we'll be able to put all your friends teasing about twins to rest."

Tomorrow I will get a little picture of our pinto bean. She'll have eyes and fingers and a big hunking heart.

The doctor said that if at eight weeks, the baby has a heart beat, miscarriage is very unlikely. In other words, I'll have to fully accept that this is the real thing.

7 weeks

I'm looking at the pictures of us in Montreal. While you sit behind me; practicing love songs on your guitar.
Over and over again, you refine and repeat. While I enhance the contrast and color of our photo at the Chinese lantern festival.
It's getting late, but we've been here all day.
Sitting in our lazy clothes.
Dipping into the fridge for pickles and soda.
Happy to be home, and too broke for anything else.
It's October. We're still new. Very new.
Quietly waiting to see; how new our future will be.

It's the last day of 2009. As significant as this year has been; its ending doesn't mean much to me. I can speculate that it only matters when you have regrets. When you feel you're not ready to move forward yet. Sounds like a good enough story, but I think in my case, I just haven't given it much thought.
I worked one day out of the entire month of December. I was home for the holidays. I visited my family and Jesse's family. Tonight I'm to fly out to New York, and I don't want to. I bought my first real maternity pants and I want to wear them out on the town. I want people to see my new belly. In the past two weeks it has gone from chubby to undeniably pregnant. My brain seems to be right on track with my hormones. All I can think about is pregnancy. I dream all day long. As my belly gets bigger, the future gets more real for me.
Yesterday we went in for our 18th week check-up. Jesse met my o.b. for the first time. There wasn't much to do except give us the opportunity to ask questions. The appointment went quickly because Jesse and I are probably overly practical. When he asked us if we had a list of concerns to call off to him, I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Won't all those questions be better answered as I get further along?" I think he didn't register this because he continued his scripted disclaimer that the babies will decide how everything goes.
The only real functionality to our meeting was the doppler which he rolled over my belly to hear the babies' heart beats. I can't articulate what it's like each time we're given more evidence that there are in fact people inside of me.
Not figurative people. Actual people.
I hate that my description stalls at "unbelievable." I'm sure I'll keep reaching for something better, but once again, my brain wanders.
As soon as I look for an analagy of how bizarre this is, my brain computes and the receipt reads:
It's like growing people in your belly.
What was I saying?
Grilled cheese...
I ate it too fast and now I'm having trouble breathing.
These two babies have pushed my stomach up into my lungs and I'm not even five months yet.
Well, tomorrow is a new year and I've got no resolutions.
Pregnancy has safeguarded me from all vices and I don't have to worry about running more or getting a promotion.
I guess that's it 2009.
Planned on writing more in the past five months, but stuff happened.

I met Jesse's parents last night. They were very sweet people. They had the fireplace lit as we came in, and the radio playing old 70's music. They were very easy to get a long with. I never felt like I was being interviewed. We didn't even focus very much on the pregnancy, the relationship, or what my life is all about. We just made easy conversation naturally.
Tonight I go back to work. I take the red eye to New York and tomorrow I'll end up laying over in Puerto Rico. I don't want to go. I really don't want to go. But I've had plenty of time off and maybe this will be just what I need to get moving. I've been really lazy this past month and haven't kept up with any of my goals. I'll allow myself that, but now I have to get it together and get on.
I felt a few cramps in my abdomen today and it made me nervous. I'm always expecting a miscarriage. I'll feel much better in two weeks when the embryonic stage is over.
I feel like I've been so focused on this pregnancy that I don't have anything interesting to say or think. I'm self conscious about it and will purposefully try to pull myself out of the cycle of obsession.
I need to continue to be a real person. A relatable person. I'll enjoy all of this a lot more if it's not my whole world.

Tomorrow I'll be nine weeks pregnant. I'm mostly tired all the time. Luckily, I haven't had to work very much at all in the past two months.
I told my parents last night. We all had dinner at Andy's place and when there was no more lingering I came out with it. I laughed a lot, and so did Andy and the kids. Mom and dad looked at me in shock. Dad weakly smiling and mom making no effort to hide her destruction. Jesse looked at us in horror. He didn't like the way it was going. That we could all be laughing as these two people got side swiped by the news. We weren't laughing at them though. It was a whole lot of uncontrollable nerves playing through me. When the laughter quieted down, we spoke seriously, and frankly.
Dad was very supportive. Mom took a little while to get her face on and be congratulatory, but she did. Dad left only an hour later, and mom maybe stayed for two. Dad gave Jesse a great blessing and welcome to the family while I sat in the other room trying to calm mom down. She was upset that she had to hear this on the same day she met Jesse. I tried to comfort her in explaining that Jesse's own parents would be in the same boat the following night, but she seemed to hold onto the idea that somehow it was different for her, and in a sense it was. Because the rest of my family has met Jesse, and she hadn't because at the time, I had chosen that she didn't. I wasn't talking to her myself.
Dad pepped up when he began fantasizing about all the pictures he'd take, and I think mom felt better as she realized how useful this would make her in my life.
Josh called Andy angrily, screaming at her for not calling him immediately to give him the scoop.
This morning he called me too, but I haven't got back to him yet.
On the drive back from Palm Springs, Jesse and I talked some more about whether or not I could go back to Jetblue a year after the pregnancy. I got more and more heated about it. I was upset because I felt like in suggesting it as a possibility, he was revealing just how very little he understands what our lives are about to become. Now that we're home, we sit at our respective computers and I think we're feeling a little like we got in our first fight.
In just a few hours we'll be off to meet Jesse's mom and dad. They know that I'm pregnant but they haven't met me yet. I'm sure they're nervous, and I'm certainly nervous, though maybe not as much now that I've experienced telling my own parents.
I've just heated up some manicotti in the microwave. Dinner is only a little while away, but when I get hungry, it's a real kind of hunger. It's a demanding hunger. I wouldn't say that I'm eating a lot more than usual, I just eat more often. In fact, right up until I'm hungry, I have a longer feeling of being full than I did before.
I'm always constipated, and I pee constantly.
My mom told me to keep a pregnancy journal last night, and I realized it's time. I had planned to, but it seemed too soon, or perhaps I was paralyzed with responsibility. I feel that after last night and tonight, I'll start making moves in preperation. There's a lot to plan and a lot that can't be planned for, and hopefully I'll understand both of those categories correctly for the most part.
Most people still don't know that I'm pregnant yet. I'm not sure how I'll approach it deliberately. Jesse and I aren't married, and haven't even been together for a year. But we do live together and it was apparent to everyone early on that this was more serious than usual. Still, there are certain things, that only time can do for a relationship, and we're now going to be working through that in the midst of negotiating a very important project.

I took a walk in Buffalo today. In loo of subculture I opted for above-board culture.
Finding myself completely surrounded by courthouses and firms and... very tall banks.

I popped into one of those coffee shops you find attached to an office building.
The menu board gave very few options and the generic wall hangings unapologetically transmissioned that this was a place of necessity.
As I ordered my drink I could tell the cashier girl perked up at my tattoos. I was somehow in some tiny way, giving her the coffee shop she had wanted to work at.
There were two tiny tables placed outside on what was more of a sidewalk than a patio.
Which put me right next to the old man with flaky skin and a beat up Yankee's hat.
I knew what I was doing.
As I moved towards the table he came to life like those fortune teller machines at Disney Land.
"Hi!"
"Hello. Nice day today."
"Yes it is."
I pulled out my book, not fully committed. Realizing he was bound to break in at any point.
And yes, I could see in my periphery that he was still looking at me expectantly.

"Didn't you bring a book with you, or something?" I asked with casual friendliness.

"No. No... I have a bunch of magazines at home. A lot. But the catch is you've gotta read them."
I nodded my head as though I completely understood his drift.
He turned back to his statuesque study of the cross traffic, and I read a bit more.
Moments later, I noticed that the guy who had been lingering behind the creamers had come out for a cigarette.
I kept my head down. I wanted to be friendly. It's on the list.
But I also wanted to read, and I gave myself permission.
Above my brow I caught his form dancing about.
Posing, and fidgeting and purposeful.
He settled on the James Dean.
Standing on one leg with the other bent to lean on the wall.
I laughed on the inside. A kind of melancholy laugh.
Wondering,
How much longer will this last?
How much longer will my youth and femininity make me a spectacle in a small town?
Ten years?
A bee popped in front of my face and I shood it away with my book. Looking up briefly to watch it go.
The coffee shop guy took his chance.

"How's your coffee?"

(yup)

"It's tea, actually."
"Oh. What kind of tea?"

I paused to decide.
Should I say English Breakfast, or will that fuel the conversation?

"Black."
"Is it good?"
"Yes," I said as I returned to my book.

When he went back inside, I realized I wasn't really reading anymore.
And there was no use.
I decided to watch the cross traffic with the old man next to me.
He said,
"Some times I just like to sit here and people watch. More than anything."

"Yeah," I said sincerely.

I tried to imagine how I'd feel right then if he were young and beautiful. How intently I'd search the crowd to find his heart.

When he left, he said goodbye, and I said take care.
Something I've been doing lately, a phrase pregnant with finality.

Soon after he'd gone, I dog eared my theory of randomness book.
That I had found on the plane.
There were no pre-existing dog ears, and I apologized to whatever stranger took such care as to use a book mark.

Back at the hotel I made conversation with the piano singer in the lobby.
Jackie.
He sang,
"Come flyyyyy with me! Come fly with... What's your name? Come fly with Rachel at 15,000 feet!"

(I'll let that inaccuracy go.)

"She's the best attendant to me.
You'll agree!"

Jackie.
Oh, Jackie...

What ever that is you started spraying on your head when your hair fell out?
You haven't washed it off ever, have you?
It's kind of hard to look at.

But thank you much for the song.
And for the made up story about meeting Richard Nixon at an empty bar in Newport Beach.


Understandably, the flight back to JFK wasn't nearly as memorable as my day in Buffalo.
One minor exception made for the passenger who came back to chat with me about his ideas.
His plans to build ice castles and water falls in the desert.
When he got around to asking me if I had been to Burning Man, I quickly excused myself to collect trash.

Tomorrow,
Brooklyn.