Which One Is the Baby?

Why is a very pregnant woman writing a blog post at midnight?

For those of you who have ever been pregnant, or perhaps currently are, I hope that you will recognize/take solace in/have at least heard of the amazing, the inimitable...pregnancy mood swing. 

Ta da! Oh, the glory!

Details? You don't need details, trust me. You, like my dear exhausted husband, would want to bury your head in a pillow and/or search desperately for my "off" switch if I were to head down the road of details. And though I'm not keen on excusing bad behavior by trotting out the "hormones" as scapegoat, I do have to say that there is a fervor to the pregnancy melt-down that can only be chalked up to chemistry.

But, if a person were to Google, oh, say...third trimester and mood swings, said person would only find some very luke-warm write-ups on estrogen and progesteron and how asking for help with the dishes or eating a high-protein snack might just do the trick in turning that frown upside-down!  Ugh.

I have yet to come across an article that talks about how to wade through mind-numbing angst about life-purpose and career prospects and why it's hard to feel like you deserve all the relaxation and savoring that everyone is asking you to do while you're pregnant and goddess-like if you feel like you really don't have a whole lot going on in the work and money department and oh my god are you ever going to be able to make all of this work, post-baby, when you still feel like you have so FAR to go?!? (And P.S. Beyonce Knowles...are your billboards for your new HBO film, "Life is But a Dream", intended to make me feel even worse about all of this? Because really, I feel like you're doing it on purpose.)

But, no. I have never found that article. The one that reads:

"I'm Having a Baby and I Can't Stop Worrying about My Non-Existent Acting Career!", or;

"Pregnancy and Goal-Setting...a Recipe for Panic."

Or;

"How to Give Yourself a Goddamn Break and Just Enjoy Your Life Even Though You Sort of Feel Like Maybe You're Not the Focused Person You Thought You Were, But Rather a Bit of a Dilettante."

Or;

"Why Trying to Finish a New Draft of a Every Project in Your "Projects" Folder In the Next Seven Weeks Might Not Be a Great Use of Your Time, Preggo."

Or maybe, just:

"It's. All. Going. To. Be. Okay."

If I were to come across any of those articles I would be relieved, gratified...would feel in the bosom of my pregnant community.  But instead, most of the questions/comments and write-ups regarding pregnancy and mood-swings all seem to be stories of women yelling at their husbands because they put their candies in the freezer (no joke), or having four-alarm meltdowns about acne, or just generally describing themselves as "crazy BeYotches" (that's an exact quote)...during pregnancy.  These revelations do not give me any comfort.  I can not, will not, be reduced to calling myself a crazy BeYotch. Yo.

So, I guess it's up to me. I will write the article. The one about how pregnant women have mood swings about things other than just their pregnancy. About how even though the closer I get the more confident I get, in many ways, about my ability to be a mother, and the more excited I feel about actually meeting this little person who is curled up, as I write this, with her little feets under my ribcage... it is also true that the closer I get, the more I start to realize how much my life is about to change. And how much I don't know what that's going to mean, or feel like, or look like. And that it's sort of scary.  And that sometimes it makes me feel selfish and petty and like I don't want to let go of any of what is only me and mine. And that I'm sure I'm not alone in this.

(Or god, at least I hope not).

So, my fellow pregnant mommas, my fellow non-pregnant mommas, my fellow crazy BeYotches...(couldn't resist).  I'm here reporting from the trenches. I'm here to say that as miraculous and exciting and love-filled as so much of this pregnancy has been, there are also some parts that are just downright upsetting. And not just because the nursery isn't turning out the way you planned. And that it's okay. And that you're not alone. Which is good. Because it also means that I'm not. So, thank you.  Because, I needed that.

Whhoooooooosh! I love you!

Do I need to apologize for being so long in posting?  I don't know!  I'm sorry!

Ugh.

Sometimes I just, you know, run out of things to say.  And I figure it's best to spare you all my rummaging around for a straw to grasp, and just let there be these (sometimes) necessary silences on the ol' blog-a-roonie.

But now I'm back!  I've thought of something to say!  Hooray!

Okay, so, last week, as many of you know, there was a crazy weather event here in Los Angeles...on Wednesday night winds of many many miles per hour (up to 40 knots) hit most of the city.  It was very exciting.  All night long we could hear the wind shrieking outside, plants blowing over, furniture being dragged across the outdoor patio by the skinny fingers of mother nature--it was something else.  My husband barely slept.  I, who can sleep through anything (including once in middle school, feat of all feats, sleeping through an honest-to-goodness fire evacuation during an overnight in the school gym)--even I was a little tossy-and-turny due to the ferociousness of the weather.

Now, if you live in a place like Kansas or...New Orleans...or Texas...please forgive we inhabitants of La-La-Land for freaking the heck out about some blown down trees and broken street-lights.  We know not what we do.

But, it was, you know...a moment.

I remember, not long after I first moved to New York in the early 2000's there was that big Northeast blackout.  I was at the Crunch Gym in Union Square, fake-running on some kind of elliptical, when the whole floor just went quiet, except for the whicka-whicka sound of several people who tried to keep on running on dead machines. (Gotta get that burn!)  I went outside, still sweaty, and everyone on the street was gawking up at all the buildings around them...waiting.  9/11 was still very fresh for a lot of people, so I think there was this communal held-breath while folks tried to figure out exactly how worried they should be.

And it was August.  So it was hot.  Really hot.

I was subletting a little studio apartment in Chelsea, and I had no idea whether there were candles or flashlights or any of that, so made my way back home while it was still light out, and holed up.  Later a good friend stopped by with whiskey and some much-needed conversation.  I was in the midst of being heartbroken over a newly ended relationship, and I was new to the city and I had been feeling just so...alone.  It's the funny thing about New York...there are so many people around, all the time, but somehow, when you're lonely, the presence of all those strangers just makes you feel lonelier.  But, I remember, the morning after the blackout, I walked out my door, and instead of just pouring myself into the sea of nameless pedestrians as per usual...I felt like I was, for the first time, walking into my neighborhood.  The power was still out, the sun was still out, and people were gathered on stoops...and in little clusters outside of still-dark restaurants.  People wanted to talk to each other.  To find out "how was it for you?", "isn't this crazy?", "how long will it last?".

I remember that moment as the turning point.  The turning point of my broken heart mending, and the moment I felt like I had finally arrived in New York, as a resident, and not just a scared interloper.

And although Wednesday's weather-drama wasn't nearly so dramatic...the same feeling was in the air.  People were talking to each other.  People were marveling at trees and towers and checking in with their neighbors..."how was it for you?", "isn't this crazy?", and, if they happened to be one of the unlucky who lost their power..."how long will it last?"

I spent the better part of Thursday, the day after the storm, driving from client to class to class to client, and I marveled, the whole day at the traffic.  It was TERRIBLE, yes, there were dozens of blacked-out street lights, but still...it worked.  People, unaided by men in orange vests, in our individual and usually utterly separate cars...we all started working together.  Even at busy intersections, one in particular in my neighborhood where two giant streets split and merge, making for 10 individual lanes of traffic all trying to go and merge and turn and pass...even at those intersections, where people are normally giant a-holes trying to get their way first...we all turned practically nunnish in our deference.  You go, and then you go, and then I'll go.

And I was so moved by all of it...the way that (oh my god, nerd-out alert)...the way that Mother Nature or the Universe or whatever you want to call it, gifts us with these moments, where the curtains that normally hang down between us and everyone around us...get lifted.  Just for a second.  And we suddenly remember that we are in a community of people.  That we are connected to each other.  And that when shit gets crazy, when roofs are blowing off and trees are falling down...that we're not in it alone.  Now, obviously I've never lost anyone close to me in a disaster...and for those who have, I'm sure it's much more complicated than this.  But I hope that those people also, when the dust has settled, have felt held by their community.  I'm holding you, right now, in my thoughts...if that's any comfort.

It's easy to forget--mainly because our relationships with individual people can get so complicated--but we do, for the most part...we do all care about one another.  Or at least we do, when push comes to shove.   And I think it's worthwhile to remember.  Especially when we're grumbling our way through lines or through traffic or through whatever, that those jerks in the car in front of us, that they're the same jerks who are going to slow down and make sure we're alright if our car goes skidding off the road or if a tree falls on our house.

You get it.

I love you. (And I think you love me too.)  Namaste.