False Sense of Hope

Yesterday afternoon some new, weird stuff was going on. Then, around 8 or 9pm, it all settled down,  I went to bed, and I woke up this morning feeling just fine. Well, as fine as can be expected 3 days from due date, I suppose.

I had a strange sense of peace when I was walking Alvy to the coffeeshop around 7:30. I know the baby will come when she’s ready and, despite trying a significant portion of the stupid old wives’ tales to get labor rolling, nothing has worked. But the moment I walked into the shop and saw the looks of expectation on everyone’s faces, my peace faded. I just wanted to start crying.

Why do so many people have so much personal investment in my pregnancy? Why are they so disappointed in me for not having had her already? (I’m not talking about any of you guys, dear readers, I mean people who are basically strangers.) The other afternoon, a customer actually said to me, “Jesus. I didn’t think you could get any bigger, but you did.” And she didn’t say it in a nice way. I wanted to say, “Yeah, well, I’m 9 months pregnant. What’s your excuse, fatass?” Her friend was quick to point out that I was “all belly,” and haven’t gained that much weight. But the woman who’d made the comment isn’t known for her tact or diplomacy, so I shouldn’t have let it bother me. Half of the time she comes in she’s indifferent and short with us. The other half she’s downright mean.

Yesterday morning Charlie texted me from work to tell me there are some problems with his potential raise and bonuses. I should have known. I mean, I always put in that disclaimer about how things are talked about but action is rarely taken. But I guess I really thought this time there would be follow-through. Essentially, the owner is going through some divorce stuff and money is either tied up or accounted for in some way because of his ex-wife. I don’t understand exactly what’s going on, but the latest news is that she’s trying to file for something besides child support and Charlie doesn’t know how long any of this stuff is going to take.

I did what I always do when money stuff comes up: I panicked and started trying to figure out what I was going to do in the next couple of months. With our current bills, there’s no way Charlie could afford to support himself and two other people. Our rent is too high, we have two car payments, and gas heat. To name just a few things.

All these questions kept popping up . . . How much time can I afford to take off from work? 12 weeks? 8? 6? How am I going to afford health insurance for the kid? How many hours will I be able to work with a two-month-old at home while I’m registered full time at school in the fall? Am I going to have to drop classes? Am I going to have to start paying back student loans? Will I need to start looking for a “real” job so I can contribute more financially? Will we have to put the baby in daycare right away? OHMYGOD, the hospital bills. And so on. As I always do.

And there isn’t anything I can really do about any of this stuff right now, so I might as well not freak out about it.


2 thoughts on “False Sense of Hope

  1. People love saying stupid shit to pregnant ladies. In the interests of not doing more of that then necessary, I’m just going to keep my mouth shut on all your personal worries, which I know are very real and overwhelming.

    Hoping that once she gets here the joy she brings you dwarfs all those things though.

  2. One thing I would suggest, or give you to consider, is that for the first three months, babies don’t have the greatest sleep schedules, which means you won’t either. It’s not uncommon, esp. for breastfed babies to sleep only two or three hours at a time. Since you still have the summer to adjust, by the time school comes around, you’ll probably be in better shape. Don’t be surprised if you can’t do a full load and work with an infant. Take your time. A stressed out mommy is a stressed out baby and that ain’t happy. You don’t have to be superwoman.

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