I'm not doing too well at getting back on this diary-keeping horse, am I?
The problem is that I've been almost criminally self-indulgent since I found out that I was "in a family way." I've taken to eating take-out meat alone, afraid that someone will point a finger at me for giving up a vegetarian diet so easily. I've been sitting in front of the computer a lot, and I haven't been doing productive things, either. Mostly I've been playing Tetris. Now, Tetris has absolutely no redeeming features. There is nothing you learn, nothing you gain from a Tetris session - just a tendency to see floating blocks in front of your normal vision. I can't figure out why it has such a powerful hold on me.
Oh yeah - self-indulgent. I forgot.
I did start going back to the gym, though. Not as often as I should - I've been getting headaches, and that's usually enough to send me home without opening my tote bag. But I have been going. Maybe that's a small something that I can cling to and expand.
I saw my doctor on Thursday, and she didn't seem too concerned that I was with child, despite the fact that she had warned me away from it when she put me on the happy pills. Because I want a midwife, we were able to get our business over with fairly quickly - just a few questions about lifestyle, a vitamin prescription and a form to take to the blood lab. I was able to tell her a lot of the research I've done in the last week, which at least saved us from the first big anxiety, which is that happy drugs + unexpected baby = freak baby. Essentially, we won't have any information for another couple of months, when we can do ultrasounds and the like. Until then, all we can do is just hope & pray that the deformities in my child will be no more than the genetic inheritance of the Boy and myself.
(I've taken to calling the Boy 'Drone,' by the way. When he goes over the line with me, I say in mock irritation "you've done your work Drone. Get out of the hive." He relishes these little confrontations, as well as, I suppose, the confirmation of his own virility.)
My parents took the news very well, although maybe not as well as I'd imagined. Like us, they're worried about a possible financial bind when I'm in work and the Boy's in university. Still, they're showing immense interest in the proceedings, and my Mom is the nicest she's been since our trip to the Nederlands. So, you know - small victories.
My brother is growing a moustache. I told him he had to, as that's what uncles do.
Last night we went to a kareoke party for Noizangel's birthday. I was (once again) nauseous & headachey when we prepared to go, but I'm getting utterly fed up with spending my evenings lying on the couch in the grip of pain that's not enough to be serious, just enough to eliminate my social life. So we went out. Everybody was thrilled at our bombshell news, and I was able to unload my cigarettes painlessly (although the urge to socially smoke threatened to overwhelm me at points). Noizangel had a private room booked, so there were about thirty friends crammed in there, laughing at each other & making happy fools of ourselves. The Boy & I had a fantastic time singing everything that caught our eye; my triumph was "Birdhouse in Your Soul" while I stoutly maintain that the Boy's mistaken programming of "Snowbird" was his high point.
We also sang with others (I have very fond memories of "Don't Stand So Close to Me" with Ryan), jumped & danced with others ("Tupthumping" anyone?), and chanted "LOW POINT" with the room whenever anyone would claim that this was (or was about to be) the low point of the evening. The privacy of the room made it utterly, utterly comfortable to stand up and be silly. I had a blast, and despite the Boy's header into the floor (Neil bounded after him so fast that I thought Neil was Bouncing the Boy out of the room for some obscure transgression) he did too.
Especially when he had to sing "Snowbird." That rocked. Heh.
The only thing that surprised me was how very popular Pregnant Amoret was compared to Amoret (Original Flavour). Laine & Veronica (not the Greek Drama Veronica, another one) in particular kept me talking about it the whole night. I mean, not that I need much prompting...I'll talk about symptoms and research and emotions until I'm forcibly restrained. You know I'm so obsessed that I'm becoming a bore, oh no... Veronica offered babysitting, and Laine reassured me about topics about which I'd never even begun to worry (like, oh miscarriage and labour). It was nice to find out that the automatic reaction from my age group isn't a well-controlled flinch.
