Thursday, September 29, 2005

looking through photo files for a new pic of my little boy to put on the computer desktop, I came across some photos taken in March 2003, when I was one month pregnant. I think I wanted some nude photos as a record before pregnancy changed my body. I had long red hair then, and a body I didn't need to hide away. In one photo I have my hand on my hip and I'm looking down at the camera. My tan lines are like pull-up stockings.

and of course I can't help looking at my right breast in these photos, for signs. but there are none. the nipple always was a little bit inverted, it seems. it just looks like a normal little breast.

there are also photos of me seven months pregnant - huge - I can't believe I was ever so big and got bigger - with milk-rounded breasts.

roll on the plastic surgery.

tired today: went out to see garbage. last night. shirley delivered the required rock-concert experience, which was to make me feel strong, as if I could do anything; and as if it was time irrelevant shit should be treated as such.

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

yawn. one of the side effects of mild depression - which I have - is waking early. this is exacerbated by the early sunrises and the fact that I have something to worry about, ie the persistent aches in my abdomen. this morning I had an ultrasound with a totally charmless operator. he said he couldn't see anything in my liver, but poked around endless with the internal u/s for my ovaries, and didn't say anything about what might or might not have been there. so I have to wait for my dr appt on Friday. and I will still worry as long as the aches are there. while paying for the u/s I overheard a nurse asking a woman with a child who was going in for an u/s "is this the first one for this pregnancy" and I nearly cried; which was as much to do with the fact I was hungry (had to fast for the u/s) and had been put through a painful internal exam as my ongoing sadness at not being pregnant with #2.

meanwhile, my various mother-friends have plenty of their own problems and I feel bad I'm not helping out. I said to dh that my contribution was not saddling them with my own fears - it's as much as I can do right now.

and also meanwhile, my son is clearly a genius. at not even 23 months he is predicting what is needed to carry out tasks; eg I said "do you want to do some drawing?" and he said "yes" and started carefully clearing the whiteboard of magnetic numbers, without being asked. the phrase "ray of sunshine" was invented for that boy.

I am supposed to be working and have an article to file today and also have to fit a swim in but I am feeling blah. might a) call friend having crisis to see if I can help and b) go out for lunch. because I can.

Monday, September 19, 2005

I used to be strong. I used to push through, no matter what. if I was tired, I'd drink coffee; now I nap. if there was a fight, I'd charge in; now I wonder if it's worth it.

I want that back. not all of it, as some of it my older self can see was pointless youthful burning off of energy. but when it matters, I want to be able to transcend my human boundaries; my physical tiredness, my mind's belief that it can only think so many new thoughts in a day; I want to be able to put my whole self into achieving what matters. I want life to be a ride again, not a drag.

(can you tell I'm on a scary deadline?)

A report: has a new stroller (his fourth if you count the bike trailer), which folds up into a little bag for airline use. also various new toys and a CD to teach him French. this is why I keep out of baby stuff shops most of the time...

parents due any minute, must keep working on deadline.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

I probably don't have any more aches and pains than the average menopausal woman. But I have a lot more reason to fear them than the average menopausal woman. this has not been a good week. a persistent stitchlike niggle under my ribs (where my liver is) has been joined by an intermittent stabbing ache in my lower back (ovaries) and occasional strange sensations in my lower abdomen, as if a nonexistent belt buckle was digging into me. Taking up the refrain are the odd twinge and ache in my neck (lymph nodes). The result of this symphony of symptoms is that I am a very grumpy woman indeed, constantly aware that I am really quite likely to die, while attempting to go about normal life, put up with baby hitting me, shopping, etc.
if A is giving me a hard time, I find it hard to cope with him. if he's sweet, which is most of the time, it seems even worse; this morning I had to run off for a cry (my first in a very long time) because he was being so lovely and affectionate and I was so afraid I'd die and ruin his life. not to be too vain about it, he loves me and if anything happened to me, he'd be unhappy. the fact that he's a friendly little chap who draws good responses from most people and would actually survive my death very well indeed as these things go, only seems to make it worse. if dh were to remarry and someone else was to be his mummy, that would be great for him. me? I'd be looking down from whereever I was, burning up with jealousy. so these are not particularly good lines of thought, but hard to drop while the aches are banging away. and with a trip to Paris about to happen and the knowledge that early detection of secondaries doesn't make a whit of difference survival-wise, I am strangely disinclined to waste a day getting all the scans done. when we get back I see the surgeon. then things might get scary.

meanwhile, on the surface all is dandy; we are going to Paris, A. is desperately in love with our car (sits in it playing for as long as you'll let him) and nearly as muhc in love with his "Ninny" and "Ever" from the childcare centre - asks for them all the time, just hopefully, as if they'll pop up from the woodwork. and he's sweet and pink and healthy and I adore him more every second.

Saturday, September 10, 2005


Wednesday, September 07, 2005

no, this is just silly. dh and I are going to Paris, right? we decided to do it. then fil offers to pay our fares. awfully, awfully nice of him. the itinerary comes through: he's buying (hasn't paid for yet) THREE seats. not only that, they're in BUSINESS class. the rack rate is $10,000 a ticket for that. I don't care if they can afford it or not, I just don't feel right about it. dh will want to keep the business class bit and dump the extra seat; I think I'd be happier going economy, but taking the third seat for A. dh is trying to sleep right now and I should be in bed too. politically, this is a hot potato. how do you say: "I just can't accept this ott gift from you?" it seems out of place, too, when we're subletting an apt on the fifth floor, no stairs elevator!, to save $$ when we're there, to be flying in luxury.

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