Thursday, October 13, 2011

What is Past is Prologue, Part I

So, it's come to my attention that some people (lindsey z., this is you) feel that I've been remiss in documenting the last 9 months of my life, baby-wise.

Here's the thing: I'm coy. It runs in the family (just try to get my mom to speak Spanish. seriously, try it). Also, I'm deeply, deeply superstitious. That runs in the family, too (I can thank my Jewish grandma for that and my tendency toward neurosis). So, I tend not to, you know, I don't know, talk about things.

But, I do like to be thorough, and I did spend the entirety of 2011 in, well, the family way, so allow me to take you through it.


Blissful ignorance. I return from Christmas in California so determined to not let east coast winter have it's way with me that even now I shake my head that I was ever that young. I go for an ill-advised run on a 17 degree day and give myself bronchitis, which leads to


which was, without a doubt, the worst February in recorded history. Picture this: I'm sick, very, very sick. I am also, apparently, newly pregnant, and I decide to take a trip to DC to hang out with a bunch of pretentious, competitive, grasping, insufferable writers (not james). I do not realize I'm pregnant and down a pharmacy worth of cold medicine and begin to grow physically sick at the sight of books.
I return from DC and spend the month in a profound stupor that requires me to mostly lay on my couch and watch Murder, She Wrote and do little, little else. I am in school, but only technically. As in, I show up. It comes as a legitimate relief to find out I'm pregnant, and not clinically depressed. I see my doctor who looks slightly bemused when he tells me I'm pregnant and I just kind of nod at him. It will take us a while to get used to each other.


(not pictured)

I don't eat anything. I mean, I eat, but not exactly food. I go to the store and walk out with a bottle of sparkling apple cider which I down, by myself, in one afternoon, which is as close to drinking alone as you can get without actual alcohol. I pull myself, slowly, out of my February stupor, and my obsession with fruit begins. I start reading a biography of Sylvia Plath, thinking I'm safely out of my winter blues, but promptly, promptly stop.


I run a 5k in decent time, though it is harder than I anticipate. James takes a photo of the number pinned to my stomach, and I think of how I can call that "baby's first race", or something equally obnoxious. Luckily, my camera and my laptop are stolen out of my apartment the following Monday, so I never have the chance. On the camera are photos of me in early pregnancy. I mourn the loss of those more than the handful of stories and essays unsaved anywhere else except my computer.
I spend my spring break in Sag Harbor, continuing to eat mostly chocolate cake and pineapple. I remain astoundingly lazy, but begin paying a little more attention at school.

to be continued . . .


  1. The whole Jewish grandma thing... The whole picture immediately comes into focus, and an understanding "Ah!" goes off in the brain.

    I personally loved the secrecy and the months waiting for your belly-button to pop so that I was absolutely certain this time.

    A belated congrats! Edith is beautiful. You have excellent cooking skills.

  2. I've already used an out-of-the-blue-completely-crazed-and-rudely-rushed phone call to say this, but I will say it again:

    There was nothing remiss about not posting pictures documenting your pregnancy. In fact, my exact words to describe you were 'CLASS ACT' because you kept your own voice so strong and clear, and built up this incredible suspense. Darren, through James, totally misconstrued my intent. Which was only to say that I loved the surprise, the sneak little peaks, and the fact that this pregnancy, for me, felt about 2 days long. As we said on the phone call, it helps if not EVERYONE in your life is asking you how far along you are every time they see you.

    And, let's be honest, I have almost completely given up blogging, as I haven't posted for like 9+ months, so who am I to say what you should and shouldn't blog about?

    Let me review: 1) We love Edie 2) I never said you were remiss. You are a new mother---you are perfect. 3) You and James = Classy people who like hamburgers and pizza = My kind of people. 4) We should live closer to one another. 5)Don't make yourself laugh--it might hurt the stomach muscles. 6) It gets better after six weeks. 7) Your new normal sets in really quickly. 8) Finn walked around with a white blanket over his head today and I taught him to be a ghost with his arms outstretched and it was AWESOME. Babies are rad.

  3. Also, I am enjoying the retrospective.

  4. I like this. I can't think of anything else to say though. Damn Facebook.

  5. I love this post. For lots of reasons. When Van was born, my brother used to text me at all hours of the night to see if i was awake nursing or doing other baby things. It made the east to west coast time difference manageable. That's why I texted you so late the other night. I hope your phone was on silent.

    I really hope to see you soon. It's making me a little crazy.

  6. I think you were remiss because if it were anyone else, i think we'd be none too disappointed if there weren't a pregnancy post every day of your pregnancy. However. This is you, and you just can't deprive the world of your take on babyhood. You can't. It's your duty. So, steady on. Thanks.