It's important to be warm

I was tagged months back to do the well-passed book meme, and finally, I shall spill a list. The reading centers entirely on one topic. The classic Sears Pregnancy Book, The Girlfriend’s Guide, The Unofficial Guide, all good tomes, courtesy of my fine breeding cousin. Taking Control of Your Fertility had its (*ahem* obvious) place on the reading list, and is a good loaner book. Misconceptions made me cry and validated my deep fear of our over-medicated culture. More importantly, it made me recognize that my vague, but pressing desire to move myself to The Midwife Center was all the more justified. Gut instinct is to be followed and trusted. This is a body experience and I best not get lost in the logic lodge as it will not serve me. That is true for both of the latter books, as is happens.

A breeder friend sent me to an amazing birth stories website, with pictures of an act so vital that few ever see it, intimidating as it is on several levels and meanings. She also loaned me the Ina May Gaskin books, and I’ve plowed through most of Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth. Wow. There’s a lot to wrap my over-planning brain around here, all of it ignored by the way that birth is portrayed not only on that blessed location of truth, The TV, but in American popular myth generally. Ina May talks about the “woman’s body as a lemon” concept, which was one of those phrases that instantly resonated. I realized that I too have been conditioned to believe that our bodies cannot handle and are poorly suited for even the most basic functions of life. This is wrestling with the conditioning that I’ve brought to myself that that idea is a steaming pile of horseshit, which in the case of birth, is one of those few medical events that was, at least emotionally, better understood in the nineteenth than in the twentieth century.

Even before the birthday arrives, there is much to be sorted through, physically and emotionally. Vivid dreams are a byproduct of pregnancy hormones. This is well-discussed in my texts. Since I began blogging my dreams, they’ve been more common, memorable, as well accessible to my waking brain. That was mere preamble. Since entering the magical world of the second trimester, I dream mostly of people, and lately, of mostly intensely sexual content. Both of these aspects were rare before primagravida, and now it’s nearly a nightly event. You will hear no complaints from me about having the dreams that a teenage boy would give a nipple and possibly half his sac to see, if only in his mind’s eye, but you will also get no descriptions. I do not wish this page to be sourced by that sort of googling, thank you. (Not to be prim, but I’m just not the type to write “Dear Penthouse” tales. Imagine for yourself; after all, that’s by far the sexier act.)

It only makes sense, even to those avoiding the overuse of logic, that the act that led to pregnancy is constantly referenced throughout the process.

So let’s talk about Orgasmic birth. That was a subtle transition, was it not? Subtle perhaps as transition def. 6, for those who’ve experienced it. It’s out there, documented in a variety of places, mostly anecdotal of course, as this is about a strictly female pleasure and falls under the category of Not-Hot to Joe Sixpack. The stories are enough to make my female brain, riding on the wild cocktail of hormonal rushes, look forward longingly to June. (Story two is my favorite, and I think an appropriate use of the capslock key.)

If this birth has even the potential to be the culmination and physical realization of the sort of fun my brain is having while I’m asleep, I have something amazing to look forward to, even before setting eyes and hands on this baby I’m cooking.

Filed by joy at 5:21 pm under dreams, life
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I’m a fly-on-the-wall for this:
In a large room, or maybe four rooms connected, a passel of guys who look like Kurt Cobain are going down the line, all with their flannels in different tones, greasy hair, etc. One more Cobain-y than the rest is telling them if they “pass” or not, mumbling out who are just poseurs. At another end, a similar parade of boys and men all look like Snoop Dogg. Dressed nearly alike: hair in braids and/or wee pigtails, baggy pants, and a decorative, over long and wide-swinging work-shirt of either navy or khaki, with white stitching details around seams and big square pockets. Snoop is actually there (Cobain being dead and all) giving them “nawh” “aaah-right” with lots of hand and head gestures as each swagger past in their best strut. The little boys are especially adorable/hilarious in their posturing. There were one or two other groups-who-intentionally-look-like-someone-famous, but even in my dream, I could only describe one pile of them as “men who look like that guy from Pearl Jam” and I’ve lost the other one.

Wherein we get postmodern, this is actually the dream within the dream:
I’m on a private train going to a work gig. The train is more like an office, with a break room and tables, and far too wide for a real train, no matter. I work for MTV (?!wtf?!) along with the others there. We’re the designers or some sort of promotional help, not actually anyone anybody knows. It’s early, so there are snacks around. I find some Corn Pops and grab myself a small portion of them in a cup or bowl, to be nibbled dry. I’m generally hanging out with the other promo people like me, then go for a walk into other rooms/cars. As it happens, I run into Snoop. As I don’t have a great deal to talk to him about, I tell him about this dream I had with the Snoop- and Cobain-lookalikes. We share some of the Corn Pops as I tell it and he chuckles good-naturedly about it. I stroll back to the room I began in, munching the rest of the pops, pleased with myself for not being an idiot and vaguely amusing a celebrity, thinking about how I’m going to blog this little tale. As I think of the post title, I wake up, laughing.

I haven’t stopped giggling about it yet.

I wish I could remember still more; my dreams are so long and involve so many people now. Pregnancy dreams are known to be vivid and strong, and I’ve certainly proven to myself that lately, but many of them haven’t exactly been good stories for sharing. I’ve been waiting for one to post for awhile.

hee hee

Filed by joy at 2:14 pm under dreams
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Over 30 hours after leaving Pittsburgh, we happily arrived in Auckland, with all our baggage, no less. (USAirways gave us a little extra adventure of letting one of our three bags miss the plane to LA. Fun, except not.) We got a bit of rest on both planes, at least in part because the movies were not worth staying awake for. Both were showing “Dukes of Hazzard” which was making us dumber just by having it going on the screen without headphones on. Both flights gave us the fantastic luxury of having three seats for the two of us. My knitting needles made it without incident, and both Ian and I saw another knitter each on both the domestic and international flight, both with long, straight needles, so perhaps I over-worried that (oh, unlikely). Somewhere over the Pacific, I lost my ankles. My feet got so puffed up that I actually could not get my shoes back on to get off the plane.

As soon as I got off the plane into the Auckland airport, I could smell the ocean, or at least that vague salty/fishy tang in the air, not unpleasant at all. We got our rental car and headed north to Maungatoroto. Ian’s grandmother and an aunt and uncle where there to welcome us. His gran will be 90 next month, which is an achievement made all the sweeter by the fact that she’s got a fantastic sense of gritty humor, good hearing, doesn’t wear glasses, and still maintains an impressive little vegetable garden.

Falling into summer couldn’t have been more welcome. The day we left Pittsburgh, it was 7 degrees Fahrenheit, which we had to explain several times, to great shock of each Kiwi to hear the tale. Aunt Cheryl hearing of the bitter cold we suffer should be even more pleased with her choice of hand-knitting us a wonderful couple of baby sweaters for the JuneBug, one slightly smaller than the other, each cuter than the last.

I had a little struggle with carsickness on the drive up, which was quickly cured by uncle Toby offering me a lemon off the tree around the other side of the house. Citrus was from then on, the theme of the visit. I was presented with a bag of oranges picked off the tree immediately next to the lemon tree, and even a real wild lemon off a tree at their bach (vacation or camping house) the next day. Oh the wild lemon was a beautiful thing! The house’s hand-picked oranges and lemons were no slouches either. I’ve been eating about two oranges a day for a couple of weeks now, but these were beat them all hands down. Tiny little juicy beasts! Hard to peel, very easy to eat. I had about four or five for breakfast.

The big event of the evening was the town’s Christmas parade. We could just see it from the deck of the house, and the excitement was electric. Don’t blink or you’ll miss it, in its small town charm. No bands, only about six cars done up as floats, and a pile of happy kids on a few of them.

After a day and a half visit with gran, we headed still further north to Whangerei to see another aunt and uncle. Aunt Jenny gave me the happiest greeting in celebration of the pregnancy, hugging me with a heartfelt “Aren’t you just clever!” While everyone thus far has been more than a little excited about our news, this was certainly the most charming response I’d ever been given.

Sitting around their place was hard to take, let me tell you. It has a lovely view of the marshy land and a piece of the bay. The street is Harbor View for good reason. The weather was fairly changeable, and I spent awhile watching the sun paint the green hills around the bend of the bay with light. Greens deep to vibrant, all the tones you can imagine.

Their neighbor caught a red snapper and smoked it with Pohutukawa (NZ Xmas tree, called so because it blooms beautiful red just in time to be truly decorative). Surprisingly, the fish seemed like a good idea and both Ian and I ate it, pulling the perfectly soft, smooth smoked flesh off the cut fish. I have never had fish like that, and since it won’t likely come up again, I’ll just savor it as the memory of how fish should be. Caught fresh, prepared within hours, and absolutely unlike anything I’ve ever encountered before.

Aunt Jenny made a fantastic vegetarian moussaka, and we all had a great time talking about just about anything, from politics to travel to the flowers of their lovely garden.

This is how vacations should begin, as once we got down to the south island and Ian’s family, it was all go, as it always is with them.

Filed by joy at 7:48 pm under travels
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I know the weather at home has been a winter horrorland. I’m sorry about that for all of you.

But we left the snow, and got a good view of it on our way out, from the relative warmth of a plane. It was lovely. Before I got my camera out, there were old Appalachian hills, their shallow crevices blanketed in white, each little branch looking like fossils of ferns against the rock of earth.

over Indiana/Illinois?
The irrigation circles were fantastic. Circles and rectangles, some nearly yellow, some almost green under white organza overlay.

somewhere in the middle
The flat would be broken by these occasional outcroppings of spiky bits, while the gridwork would juggle itself along waterways; some only visible in parts, as the less mobile water was under an undisturbed layer of snow. Moving water farther west was dark beneath and steaming white above, the only activity surrounded by the morning’s quiet perfect blanket.

Colorado?

Utah?
It got quite hazy as we got closer to LA. Just before the cloud cover became complete, there were wonderful canyons.

Filed by joy at 3:06 pm under travels, visuals
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As I can’t enjoy my usual holiday spirit due to the JuneBug, I will share a few holiday-themed links for your viewing pleasure.

Cat Holiday. Tree required.

As always, I must plug my dear friend Susan’s wonderful Advent Calendar.

Should that be too sweet for you (we all have our holiday bipolar disorders from time to time), perhaps a Cavalcade of Bad Nativities. Do click through to “Angels we have heard are high” and “The Passion of the Tchotches”. Need I say more?

As I’m heading to NZ, I’m thinking on the wool I may acquire and wish to knit up. I’m taking a limited amount of yarn as, really, please, give me the excuse to buy there! In light of that, a DNA scarf and a fascinating method to get wool from the sheep without the physical trauma of sheering. (Kari, you’ll dig that link.) Considering how many kids dislike having a sweater pulled over their heads, I can only hope it’s less emotionally upsetting as well. The scarf is the perfect companion to Baby’s first DNA model, which is certainly on the to-be-knitted list.

Filed by joy at 1:25 pm under crafty, life, visuals
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The title is stolen from the plan of the design program at CMU. While Ian is deep in his Thinking, Doing, Making, I’m a bit distracted and concerned with a more introspective and internal version of the same three words.

Very happily, as most people who read this know by now, Ian and I are expecting. Next June, we’ll add a new monster to the house, to keep Saggar on her little toes. After many weeks of carsickness and exhaustion and eating a phenomenal quantity of toast, I’m finally past the magical line that brings me to the second trimester. This is exciting on several levels, not the least of which is my renewed ability to eat. I have not the words for the happiness that is the simple fact that I can once again eat curry. Oh, beautiful curry.

Aside from the food and illness factor, things are good. We leave for New Zealand this week, so the inconsistent blogging will remain in effect. However, now that the cat is out of the bag, I may rant and rave about all the things that I’ve been keeping in while not sharing my news. The list of rants is as long as anyone should normally expect from me, though I really have to fit it all in between the much needed napping that has become more central to my existence than I ever would’ve predicted.

Filed by joy at 10:43 pm under life
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