Scheisse. It’s been busy here at the House of Flying Cats.
Loki, the still sexless baby is growing at leaps and bounds. He is the most photographed fetus since Suri. Between my three doctors, this little one is scanned at least once a week. I’m not complaining. I love checking him out. Last week he was all laid back, feet up, sucking a thumb and waving with his other hand. Totally my kid. All he needed was a cocktail and a friend to shoot the shit with and we could be related. See below. That’s my kid.
I tried to have a CVS last week, but Loki was in the wrong position, making it impossible. Now, I’m looking at the more invasive Amnio which I’m still a little sketchy about.
I don’t know how mothers go through pregnancy without a team of doctors, million of tests, nuchal fold scans etc… and not worry that there is something wrong. I worry all the time. I keep track of things like his size – is he big enough, is his head too small, what about the thickness of his little bod? And his movements and his little heartbeats and how does the back of his neck look and are his legs in the right proportion and will his eyes move lower and do I see a prominent brow bone because where I might be like the Neanderthal people in Clan of the Cave Bear in regards to math, it’ll be tough on a kid to look like a Neanderthal.
I say “he” because one, we’ve always thought it was a boy except for a two week period where I had a weird dream about a boy really being a girl and she was playing with wolves. Odd. And because it gets tedious calling it an it when clearly it is a something and we just don’t know yet because he keeps turning the other way.
Last week with the Ultra Ultrasound machine, I made a comment to the nurse that he was a mischevious little devil and the nurse (a nurse not familiar with my sense of humor) made the comment that “No. There are no evil babies.”
Okay. First of all, I didn’t say evil. Where did you come up with evil?
Second, how did she know I was actually worried about that? I have worried since, oh, about 8 weeks that I was carrying the next Dexter or Hitler or computer programmer that makes computers that rule the world like in The Terminator and this pregnancy will change history because you know, I’m egocentric enough to think like that and frankly Sparky could have been a genius if HE hadn’t been caught in the birth canal for those few minutes and I’m rather clever and if we have a kid, well, forget it, its over for the world.
So this nurse makes that comment and at first, in my right mind, I figure she just didn’t have a sense of humor. But later… I start to think that she’s like the nurse in Rosemary’s Baby and Loki turned so I couldn’t see his horns and she’s just saying that to make me feel better until I am forced to give vaginal birth to a killer baby (His eyes! His eyes! What have you done to his eyes?) and when he’s three he’ll start telling me I’m the prettiest mommy and that everyone says so right before he pushes his nanny down a flight of icy steps.
So this thinking leads to the thinking that I’m already losing my mind and going totally Andrea Yates* before I’ve even given birth and I’ve made Claire promise that if after I give birth I start to think my kid is evil, she’ll come down and make sure I get on medication before I start filling the bath tub.
Then I think about how I can’t eat enough fruit these days and that it tastes so freaking good I can’t stand it. Really, it’s just too good. Or how for some reason, I can’t get enough Vivaldi and have to close my eyes when I hear those runaway violins. And how nice I’m feeling. Not nice in like “Oh I’m feeling just splendid” because I’m not. I feel like I’m a nicer person and let me tell you, nice is not usually a word associated with me. One or two flip-outs aside, I’m feeling like a kinder, gentler Jen. And these are things things I totally blame on Loki, a fruit-eating-violin-loving-nice kid can’t be evil. It’s not like I’m craving bloody meat like Phoebe in Charmed episode 420 when she really was pregnant with the source of all evil. (I thoroughly researched the evil baby issue.)
I’m not going to be one of those women who goes into motherhood all easy and natural. I do think though, by covering all my bases, thinking about every possibility I can, I’ll be more prepared and possibly, just possibly, I’ll be able to relax a bit when the kid finally makes his open air appearance. Let’s hope so for the kid’s sake.
Wow, do I sound neurotic or what?
*I firmly believe that Andrea Yates’ husband was far more responsible for the tragic events than she was as he continued to get her pregnant when they had been told subsequent pregnancies would certainly lead to postpartum psychosis stating that “God” would choose whether or not to give them more children then knocking her up 4 more times even as she got worse and worse. Seriously, when psychosis is involved, the only reference to god should be something along the lines of “Oh god, get those meds into her fast” or “God, you’re a stupid man telling your psychotic wife she can handle more kids.”