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| It's strange to use the term "fiance." I've been playing around with it in my interactions with strangers. My prejudice makes itself known in the uncomfortable way the word rolls around in my mouth--I feel so pretentious! But I try it anyway.
I think I'll start using the term "betrothed" as well. You can thank M.M. Kaye for that as I've just devoured her less famous novel, Shadow of the Moon.
It's not strange at all, however, to introduce you to our little Gummy Bear. These were taken on June 10th.
What IS strange about all of this is how invisible Derek has become to most of the people we know. We'll walk out the door together and the neighbors, who Derek has known longer than me, and despite the fact that Derek has just asked how they were doing, look right past him and ask how "mama" is doing.
My family members are the only people I know that actually ask after him as an individual capable of independent thoughts, feelings, and decisions. The irony here is that I've never been one to discuss my personal affairs with acquaintances so I'm ready to just talk about me and my cramps, vomit, exhaustion, and my vacillating (D's word) hormones, moods and calorie intake when I get to the house. Meanwhile, my folks are asking after Derek's health, work, latest disc golf tournament, and that friend he was just talking about the other day. I love them for it.
One last tidbit: My mom told me today about how my Grama had thought she was dying of throat cancer during her first pregnancy because she didn't know what heartburn was.
I can relate to this. I am convinced that I've got breast cancer. I'm convinced in the way that a child is convinced the monster in the darkness will eat them if they leave a single body part out of the covers and I recognize the childishness of it. ...but I know we won't find out until it's in its latest stages and I'll either have to go through immediate treatment (obviously not a choice while I'm pregnant) or forgo treatment (and thusly forfeit my life and leave my only child to live without their mother).
Now that I think about it, my great-grandmother did die of throat cancer and mine has been bothering me lately... A mother's worries start early, I see.
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| Derek thinks I'm too hard on others when I'm mulling over the whole 'life's rules' thing. It's quite possible. I certainly look down on people whose lives are governed by the silent rules others have created for them. It's judging, I know. I'm working on my judging.
And still I'm left with a sour taste in my mouth after every conversation that's filled with awkward pauses and sentences unfinished because someone is uncomfortable with their own judgments of me. I'm going in the wrong order, I should be working--especially considering the situation I've gotten myself into, etc. It seems being giving, thoughtful, caring, hard working is not enough. One must also be fastidiously scrupulous with the thoughts others might have of one's actions (and even one's thoughts!) at all times.
I find myself wary of other people's motives, even Papa Smack's.
I know I have expectations for others. After watching this joyous event be secretly twisted and gnarled into invisible aches of stress to fester in the back of my mind, I think I'll work on being more aware of what those expectations are and how they affect the people around me.
Reading Pride and Prejudice again sounds like a good place to start. =o)
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| The small town girl in me comes out every Thursday during summer. I plan my entire day around being in downtown Sparks, NV by 5pm (though sooner means better parking). I plan out what fruits and vegetables I want, plan a route to walk around the booths on Victorian Ave, and make sure a stop at the lemonade stand is part of the budget.
I also plan what I'll wear. It has to be comfortable but I have to take into consideration the possibility of running through the fountains with my niece. Whites aren't generally an option.
Then there's dinner to be considered. I buy strawberries that were grown without pesticides so I don't have to worry about washing them if I need something to munch on. But sometimes the soft plumbs or the sweet peaches call to me so I have to make sure I've at least had a snack before leaving.
Then we take our goods back to my parents house and sit in the back yard to nibble a bit. We generally drink iced tea if the lemonade's already gone. One of us will chop up the lemon halves from our drinks and add them to the mulch bin.
I may pine for the bigger cities and all they have to offer the rest of the week, but Thursdays are reserved for my home town.
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| Be yourself.
Hide things.
Don't tell ANYONE you've had a miscarriage.
Don't tell anyone you're pregnant because you can't tell anyone you've had a miscarriage.
Children only exist if they're born to married parents.
Probability of divorce is not to be taken into account when one is pregnant and contemplating marriage.
Marriage is a tool one should use to make one's self unhappy.
Love is wonderful
Deceit
and mischief are the preferred methods of communication between society
and women who are simultaneously single and pregnant (though not if
they're only one of the two).
Greed is sinful except where golden rings and diamonds are concerned.
The bride's family will pay for everything.
Don't say the word "dowry"
Follow your beliefs.
Make everyone happy.
Celebration isn't allowed without alcohol.
Go in this order or the world will explode: ring->father's permission->proposal->spend gobs of money->marriage
The vows have to be personal, unique, and binding (until the divorce).
The vows only count if everyone else is there to hear them.
Wear something you like.
Choose a diamond.
Wear a white dress.
Make it your own event.
Order matching outfits for all the pawns.
Be strong.
Follow the rules.
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| Two years ago, I was in the midst of a break down. I had tried--and failed--to live out my naive dreams. I was bitter, resentful, and in a dangerous place. I was drowning. There was no safe haven I could create for others--I had no safe place for myself. Sleep became my escape, but only for a short while. Even that was lost as I learned that for every dark oblivion I could hide in there was a time when I would have to open my eyes and try the same horrible day again. I was sore and tired. I often felt my nerves were too raw to do the simplest of chores. And yet, through the miscarriage of my ideals, I was offered moments of healing. I was once so overwhelmed with emotions and illness that my skin felt like it was charged static electricity. I was in the restroom with a co-worker and I found myself afraid to wash my hands. It was going to hurt--I knew it. I scrubbed twice as long to prove to myself that it was all in my head but my skin ached afterwards. As we talked that day, my newly acquired friend offered compassion I hadn't heard in a long time and some of that tingly and aching in my skin was relieved. 2 months later, I spent days in the fresh air only a cool river can afford and I made eye contact--the real kind when two people really hear each other--for the first time in a long while. Actually, several times. I flirted, stretched my muscles, laughed with strangers, and smelt the sunshine on the rocks. I did all of this, even as I tried to put on the persona I thought I'd need to wear when I got back home. How could I change from the New, broken Me to the Old Me without them catching me in the act? How could I ever be happy as either one?? I recognized the same struggle in the people around me. It's taken me until now to be able to look back and it's taken this long to learn appreciation for those moments of support, understanding, and connection but I'm glad I'm finally able to do it. | | |
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