Duxford Girl

Every time I hear "(What are we gonna do) Come the Month of September" by Matt Mays and El Torpedo it makes me think of all the things I'm afraid that I'll lose about myself once I become a mother.

It's as though I fear that I will never fly another air craft or ski another slope. Considering that I work with many moms and dads who still do plenty of interesting stuff, I think my fears are largely unfounded.

After a bit of a confidence hike today I was going to post my latest preg pics but once I looked at them I decided that I'm not that brave.

I bought a maternity bathing suit several months ago and while the bottoms still fit the top has never really had much room. Note to the designers of maternity bathing wear, boobs get bigger, not smaller when one is knocked up. To be honest, I probably couldn't fit the tops of most mat bathing suits when I wasn't pregnant, let alone now at eight months in.

As pregnancy progresses, dreams are said to become more frequent. I've always been a vivid dreamer so I haven't noticed much change in the frequency of my dreams. I have, however, noticed that I seem to have more recurring dreams on a nightly basis.

None of them are new recurring dreams. For instance, I've dreamt about tornados for years. It's a typical dream and represents great, destructive change as well as starting with a clean slate. That makes perfect sense. The birth of a first child is a great unknown and as I've said, I don't have a very idealistic view of the first year. I expect it to be horrible, worthwhile, but still horrible. Before pregnancy, these tornado dreams usually took place at my current residence but lately they've been at other places, like the dentist's office.

I hate weddings. I avoid them at all cost. I hate the whole industry. I never watch any of the stupid shows dedicated to the subject. Even driving by wedding shops makes me queasy and irritable.

Okay, I hear you asking, “aren't you married? Didn't you have a wedding?” Yeah, sure did, and here's some of the history leading up to that event.

I swore that I was not going to turn my log into a forum that basically tells people that I have no life outside of the fact that I'm pregnant but that's unfortunately what it's becoming. I'm not alone, there are a steady stream of mums-to-be telling the truth about this journey in a more candid and truthful way than you'll ever see in any book or on any TLC show.

I didn't go into this pregnancy thing with unrealistic expectations. A lot of people are still surprised that I am pregnant (you can see the shock on their faces now that I'm slipping into my eighth month). I said for a lot of years that I didn't want kids and at the time, that was always the truth. In the back of my head I had this list of stuff that had to happen before I would consider having a child:

Well, I've reached the stage of pregnancy where I've stopped reading stuff about pregnancy and started reading stuff about babies and parenting. As near as I can figure, in several more weeks something horrible and medical is going to happen and at the end I'm going to have this little, tiny dependant to take care of that will be relying entirely on me for some direction in life.

I'm probably not the first person to theorize about this but after weeks of watching birth videos and stories I'm starting to wonder if alien abduction 'victims' are actually people who've stopped repressing memories of birth.

As most of you have probably guessed, I've started Junior's musical training early. Being the pregnant one means that I get a leg up on what the boy listens to. For instance, I'm hoping to direct him away from crap like Vangelis in favour of as many Canadian bands as possible.

There are two things I shouldn't be doing on June 9th:

1) Covering up my bedding-out plants every evening.

2) Watching the Stanley Cup Final.

I think that the late hockey season is angering the weather gods. At any rate, if this weather keeps up, I'm running away to warmer climates at xmas.

In light of the current weather forecast, I offer the words of the Northern Pikes: