Weeks and weeks have slipped by without a blog and without my really taking in how much time has been passing into the nether. Yet things have been brewing. Summer has been playing at fall for weeks now, and I have spent most of the rainy days in bed reading, sleeping, and trying not the throw up. The cat is finally completely out of the bag, so without further adieu I’m here to tell you at long last that the reason I’ve been absent and feeling like shit is that I am pregnant. Baby gorilla here we come.
Being pregnant is, in my short 29 years, the weirdest experience I’ve ever had. And while I lay around trying to ignore the nausea, my body is building a human. What the fuck!? And I don’t even have to lift a finger, which is, of course, a relief. I may have managed to re-build this trailer, but I don’t think I could have ever managed something as complicated as a nervous system. And yet, without even knowing it, I am. Fucking crazy. This is something I would very seriously file under “real magic.”
Meanwhile my body is in total hormonal shock, and I have incredibly horrible morning sickness, or more accurately, all-day-long sickness. I have also developed a Grenouille-esque sense of smell, which also makes me throw up. Things that just smelled mildly unpleasant before now smell so horrible that they trigger the repeat viewing of breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Oh, and so does too much time between meals; excessive movement; getting up quickly in the morning; riding in buses, trains, or cars; and brushing my teeth. Eating has become a chore, and I can no longer stand the taste of eggs. It’s a bit like, after having spent over a quarter century fine tuning the maintenance of this bag of flesh and bones and feeling like I had finally figured out what worked, suddenly waking up in an alien vessel in which I am now expected to continue to live as if very little had changed.
Other mothers have promised me that there is a time later in pregnancy when I will feel better than I ever have in my life. I hope they are right and that that time is just around the corner. I’ve tried every remedy there is, but nothing has changed the situation. Except perhaps, the passing of time, and possibly the B-vitamin cocktail that my doctor recommended. Of course most of the time I throw up the vitamins and who knows if it is really them that has bought me a few more nausea-free hours a day for the past week or the fact that this shit is supposed to end with the end of the first trimester. That is to say, if I turn out to be textbook, at the end of the week. Please cross all your fingers and toes that it’s true.
So I ask for your patience if in the next couple of weeks posts continue to be sparse. When I feel like emotional shit, my creative drive excelerates. When I feel like shit physically, it comes to a screeching halt. Add to that the fact that my home internet is still broken (meaning I have to leave the house to go online, something I haven’t been doing much lately in light of the pukiness), and I feel like I have to win a triathalon in order to get a few meager words to you. Which should all be changing in the near future. At the very least, I can finally tell you the stories from the Black Diamond tour, which wouldn’t have had much to do with the actual experience if I’d had to leave out the fact that I spent all the time between our shows throwing up and/or trying to sleep in the van.
And, as one reader-friend pointed out when she heard: while this probably means that I’ll be rambling about child-related things a bit more frequently–like how at your first preggo doctor’s appointment they give you a “present” which is just a big plastic sack full of advertisements, assholes–I will also have quite a few things to scavenge, build (we’re already looking for a smallish Bauwagen for the Peanut, as I have been referring to the babe since seeing it’s kidney bean/peanut form on the ultrasound a few weeks ago), and tell you about. New projects abound. Talley-ho.