MARCH 9, 2009

Today we set the date for induction.
I like the date 03.09.09. It makes me think of reading Greek Mythology with Mrs. Springer in High School. She told us that there is luck related to the number 3. I'm excited because there's an end in sight. He is a chunk. He's in the 77% for weight. Those of you who knew Mahalia as an infant won't be surprised by this statistic. His head circumference is above the 95%. I've not been able to think of much else besides this baby and his imperfection. While getting up and going to work has provided me with a much needed routine, I find myself extra spacey while there--calling kids by their sibling's names or forgetting names all together.

Mahalia has named this baby Whoonit. Her first choice was Rachel but she'll be the first to tell you that, "daddy says Rachel is a girl's name so I named him Whoonit." Every once in a while I say, "Mahalia, mommy and daddy might decide to name him something else besides Whoonit." It's an attempt to soften the blow when we tell her his real name. We talk in circles about names.

My brain is so busy thinking about stuff. The brain chatter is incessant. I find that the chatter makes the most sense when I'm working on a knitting project. I've made lots of little knitted items--hats (I cast on extra stitches to accomodate the large head situation I mentioned above), booties, a poncho, some pants, a sweater. I've been thinking of the big mammajamma knitting project I'll work on when Whoonit is in the NICU.

Ahhhh, the NICU. We took a tour of the NICU last week. It was mind boggling. There are so many machines and tubes and Filipino nurses. There were tiny naked babies under heating units. One baby's chest was vibrating very quickly and I ask the Dr. if these babies are in pain. I'm holding back tears the whole time we're looking around. I don't know if the tears are for the babies or for self pity or from fear. Most likely, the tears are a combination of all these things and stress and hormones. The next day at work I start crying at a staff meeting when somebody asks me how I'm feeling. It's totally humiliating and embarrassing.

I shouted at a lady on the train. The seating situation pisses me off on a daily basis and is turning me into a racist. I scan the train car as it pulls into the station for any african americans because african americans stand up for pregnant ladies. Unfortunately, my train --the B--is coming from Brighton Beach, land of the freshly emigrated Russian folks. Russian people do not get up for pregnant ladies. That said, as I was standing on the rush hour train, an old Russian lady came on and started banging me repeatedly in the back. Out of nowhere I shout, "Where are you trying to go? You're going to knock me over." Her only response was, "No. No. I am not." I didn't consciously make the decision to say that out loud. It just emanated from somewhere deep within. It feels great and I make a note to let that voice speak more often.

I tripped on a branch on the walk to the train today and totally bit the dust. I landed only inches from a mud puddle. I wish I could see a replay of the fall. I'm pretty sure I was heading face down but somehow I ended up on my side to avoid landing on my belly. You'll be surprised to learn (just kidding) that I cried after I got up. I felt so discombobulated and scared. Tonight my arm hurts. I felt my amniotic fluid sloshing around when I fell. My polyhydramniosis (excess amniotic fluid) condition makes my belly so hard but it felt like a giant balloon when I landed on the ground.

I'm dying to know what will happen tomorrow. It's windy here in NYC and two people got killed from shit flying thru the air. Bam. One second you're alive, brain chattering away, and the next moment you're dead. Holy crap.