The Lessons Not Learned

I am guilty of overposting I think. I have to admit, the self-indulgence blogging provides seems to be the outlet my pregnancy needs.

I have written about clothes, plans, events, and pregnancy aches. Today, I am going for an old fashioned hormonal, pregnancy rant. I hate putting hormonal because it is usually equated with irrational. And what I am about to write is something I have always thought of, even before pregnancy. Anyway, here goes…

Today, I just did something unforgivable in terms of unspoken office ethics – I left my supervisor to finish our output on deadline day. I pity her and a part of me feels guilty, but I remember the last time I took on work for her – they made me stay overtime until 1am while I was 4 months pregnant without remorse. Besides, she had it coming.

This fucking project has been the source of my constant stress for the past three months. I am just happy that I only underwent bleeding for this project once. Although I can swear that I was thisclose to a miscarriage two or three times, all because of this project. All because of fuck-ups my PM was not able to anticipate, did not act upon, or took too long to act on it.

My real peeve is this obsession in my society of conflict avoidance. Filipinos are a generally non-confrontational and patient people. Problems are best avoided. Issues are buried. They will just wait for the good times to come again since those times always come.

Not that I am not guilty of this. In fact, I can name one regret I have that I really wish I did during that time. When I broke up with my ex-boyfriend 3 years ago, I was not quite certain of the reason why. I was only sure that there was something wrong and it cannot be fixed. I was also sure that even if I care for him, I really want out. So during the break-up, I mouthed all the platitudes expected of a dumper. It was all my fault. i have to find myself first. I have problems I need to fix and I have to do it on my own. And so on…

What a big pile of shit! Shit that has come back repeatedly to stink up my life. This is what I should have said instead: Sex is bad. I just think of you as a friend. After two years of bearing with you, I finally realized what a self-involved asshole you are. You might not admit it too, but you haven’t loved me in a long time too. Please fuck off my life. Have a good one and be assured that I don’t give a damn!

I did not say those words because I just wanted out and not give him any opportunity to work things out. I held back because I believed then that I was hurting him and I want to cause the least pain possible. Fast forward to present, that asshole ex managed to badmouth me to our friends, to his frat, to all his dates, to all his classmates in law school, and to whoever was stupid enough to listen. Had I told him the truth sooner, maybe he would have taken it better. He wasn’t the victim. He was also to blame for everything that happened.

Now, my boss. Our fuck ups and delay is caused by a wayward consultant. This consultant is very good but he is past optimal production age. It was already a mistake to hire him for such a demanding job. It was also a mistake to retain him when he was already showing signs that he couldn’t hack it in time. I already drafted a stinging demand letter a month ago but my boss wouldn’t send it – because she did not want to antagonize him that he may leave us hanging in the air. I already suggested and found a willing replacement a month ago, but she again failed to pull the trigger.

We are taking so much damage from this fuck up already. All because she did not have the balls to confront this consultant straight up.

Another peeve was there were some mistakes in the research process that has been recurring throughout several research projects already. I am also angry at myself because I already saw those fuck ups before but I did not say a thing (not really because of lack of balls, but because they never gave us a chance to talk things out). Their coping mechanism is to avoid talking about it, endure the storm or crisis in the most inefficient way possible, never discuss problems that arose during the crisis, and REPEAT THE SAME FUCKING CYCLE ALL OVER AGAIN.

This is a cultural thing. So it is not just in work that I have to deal with this. This is prevalent in my friendships too. I understand that people will never change and I will have to accept that. But then again, what is so special about avoidance and non-confrontation? They say that it is best not to talk when angry so as you will not say things you might regret. But with all my destroyed friendships, what was most apparent pattern was the constant burying of issues and non-communication of problems.

If anything, what my life experience taught me was avoidance has been the surest ingredient to ensure that things will never get fixed. Lessons will never be learned.

My PM said that as a lesson learned, we will never take on a project of the same nature ever again. Two things bug me about that statement, (1) from what I hear, there was already a similar project she handled 2 years ago that did not end well but she still took on this one and (2) our real problem was our processes – choosing a consultant, doing the necessary preparations for a research, yielding too much to client demands, and so on. Those remain unsettled.

Good times will come, easy projects will be there. But that stance did not improve us as an organization. That stance among friends did not improve the relationship. That stance within us did not make us better people.

Belly Shots

Ever since I experienced my first real bout of pregnancy pain last weekend, I searched around blogs for pictures of belly sizes at specific weeks. I wanted to see how big I could be in the coming weeks.

What is interesting is that it seems most pregnant bloggers have been asked to show belly shots. Someone even posted a week by week photo gallery of her bump. Although I am thankful to these moms that I get to have a closer approximation of how I can look like four to five weeks from now, I have no plans to follow suit and document the expansion of my tummy.

Not that I don’t intend to have my picture ever taken while I am pregnant, I am all for that. Nor am I saying that I want to hide all evidences of my pregnancy because that is not it. I just don’t want to post pictures of my belly alone.

It makes me uncomfortable because it is like I am showing off a newly-surgically altered body part to friends. Like I just got a great boob job and I am showing off my boobs to advertise my surgeon’s exceptional skill.

The thought that people are just curious about a specific part of me makes me queasy. Like I am separated from my belly. I know there is a person growing inside it, she kicks often enough to make her presence felt. But I think until the time she comes out in her birthday suit, that is the only time I am prepared to acknowledge her as picture-worthy on her own. For now, we will be like the kangaroo stuffed toy – the kid is still a body part of the mom.

Almost 6 months. Most pictures taken of me during that time still doesn’t show that I am pregnant. Depending on what I wear, some people still don’t see it. The reasons why I want to keep it small (but of the right size) are purely financial ones. A normal delivery is cheaper. Gaining too much weight makes me susceptible to complications. I don’t have to spend too much money on clothes that I outgrow. I can move easier, hence continue working longer.

In sum, big bellies scare me. Belly shots make me uncomfortable. I wish I can maintain my weight and my belly size for the duration of my pregnancy.

Shopping for Maternity Clothes

For the record, there is NO WAY that I will wear those ugly maternity clothes up for sale in the retail market.

Puffy sleeves go away! Spare me from floral dresses!

I have been lucky to have reached this far. Almost six months and I can still fit into my work clothes. I am giving myself a few more weeks (preferably one more month) before I start shopping for maternity clothes.

I was able to dress around my belly for the past months here at work. Boxy jackets, trench coats, long tees, stretchy leggings have been reliable wardrobe staple for me. I feel it though, the tummy is getting bigger and bigger.

I will need clothes for the homestretch.

I am not buying them from the mall, although Apple & Eve have some nice stuff. I already have 2 oversized drawstring pants from them that still doesn’t fit me well. I also have the black cropped leggings (if anyone can tell me where I can get jazz pants, please do tell).

Thanks to Flair in the City I found two sites for hip maternity wear: www.next9.org and www.nuiclothing.com. Here is my what my shopping list has so far.

The Baby Shower Question

Two guy friends, both with two wonderful kids of their own already, suggested that I hold a baby shower. From their experience, a haul in a baby shower is enough to cover all expenses on baby stuff for one year.

I am not excited about the prospect. It is like throwing a party where everyone is expected to bring a gift. I told my friend as much. He said that there will be a point where I will want all those fancy stuff.

I think that is my point. I want this whole pregnancy to be as controlled as much as possible. I don’t want to join in the baby stuff shopping brouhaha. I am not saying that I will not like the stuff. I am saying that I don’t want to get caught up in them.

I read an advice that it is better to stock on stuff you need for the first few weeks only. After that will I know what I and the baby really need. So, nope, not throwing a baby shower before November.

I think I will not even throw one at all.

Although, I am happy at the thought of throwing a welcome party for the baby. We have agreed that there will be no baptism as well. So this is the only event we are throwing.

A Sunday brunch by December sounds good. Only the nearest and dearest. A happy event. Gifts or no gifts.

Talking through the Pain

I am due in 16 weeks. That makes me almost 6 months pregnant. With the way my body has been aching, I definitely feel pregnant.

I have been pretty lucky that aside from the throwing up, my symptoms have been pretty mild. My pre menstrual hormones have been far worse than what I have now. The tiredness and the fatigue is common for me especially when I was still under treatment for my thyroid.

But now, the nagging cramps are new to me. I am used to treating my injuries from working out or sports before. The problem is the pain I am feeling now cannot be treated by the usual remedies – no to painkillers, no to tourniquets, no to hot compress, no to hard massage. I will just have to grit it out.

One common source of misunderstanding for me is that whenever people ask me if I am okay, I always say I am fine. I am not lying whenever I say I am fine because even with the pain I am fine. I am not dying. I am not tempted to kill myself. I am not angry at God for giving me this pain. Knowing those things make me fine. But it doesn’t stop nor change the fact that I am working through the pain.

Now I understand why couples undergoing pregnancy have a hard time communicating. In the end, no matter how supportive the partner is to the pregnant mom, she really is on her own for the next 9 months. No one can carry the baby for her. No one can take all the aches and pains associated with pregnancy. Even from one mother to another, symptoms vary. So in a way, the pregnant mom is so alone during the time that another person is molded inside her.

I accept that fact. I am fine with it. It doesn’t make the aching stop though.

Unfortunately, Pong is at a loss on how to deal with me at this point. He doesn’t understand the pain. He feels bad for me. He wants to help but he couldn’t. He blames himself for putting me through this.

So here is what I tell the poor dude.

Panicking because I am hurting doesn’t help. I am fine despite the pain but I am in no shape to appease or make you feel better in my condition.

Fussing is good for other people, it is somehow bad for me. It aggravates the pain because you give too much attention to it.

Regret is another useless feeling for me. No more ‘if only’ nor ‘had I not’ etc.

Just imagine me pushing a heavy weight to the other side of the mountain. I am nearing the peak and the weight is getting heavier. Panicking, fussing, regretting are all counterproductive because it does not make the journey any easier nor does it lighten the burden. I would rather that you push beside me. Or if the weight is not meant for you, just push me instead.

I can work through the pain. I have worked through one pain or another and I am used to it. It doesn’t mean I don’t feel the pressure though so i need you to be there.

I need you to remind me why I am pushing because the pain makes me forget. I need you to make me smile even when I wince at every step. I need you to calm me down when I am shouting in pain, always pointing to the end goal. I need you to be a constant source of stability and strength because there are days I am running on empty. I need you to listen just so I can get the pressure off my chest.

A Midnight Pregnancy Massage

For the past two days I have been suffering from a nagging pain under my left hip. It hurts the most whenever I walk. I tried my usual methods for dealing with injuries – stretch, cover it up, rest it, and so on. Nothing worked. So last night I went to the newly opened spa in our neighborhood and decided to finally avail of their pregnancy massage services.

The spa has been opened for a month but I did not dare go. Most of the advice I heard from pregnant women indicated that massages during pregnancy are a big no-no since it can induce miscarriage and contractions. Several spas in the Ortigas area  did not want to treat me because I was pregnant.

I can endure the constant aches on my back. Pain while walking was another thing.

I researched beforehand about pregnancy massages. From what I gathered, pregnancy massages are recommended treatment for pregnant women especially to ease the ligaments and joints pain associated with carrying the load of the baby. They are safe as long as the therapist was trained on the skill (or art) beforehand (my therapist was, thankfully). Unlike the usual Swedish massage, the pregnant woman usually lies sideways. The strokes are done in circular motion, targetting points and areas known to create tension and pain in a pregnant woman. The goal is to promote blood circulation in a pregnant woman.

Aside from the relief, other benefits are:

• de-stressing because the massage balances hormone levels
• cure for insomnia – well, I don’t suffer from it but I did sleep soundly today
• the massage when done regularly will contribute to a normal delivery – this could be true or this could just be an overselling in some websites.

I was dutifully warned though that pregnancy massage when administered to women with not enough amniotic fluid, opened cervix, or bleeding does lead to a miscarriage.

All in all, I was happy to have found an affordable and accessible hideout for me. Next time, I will have Pong watch so he will know what to do. He gives me a blank look everytime I complain about how much my body hurts. Guys will never understand. As for yet to be pregnant women, just imagine the aches and pains of PMS. It is like that but multiplied exponentially based on how far along you are.

The therapist was trained in Ayurvedic treatment (which I approve of). I have a distrust for doctors, sadly even my OB-GYNE included. I used to treat my cramps and menstruation problems with Chinese medicine, too bad that accupuncture is bad for pregnant women because it aggravates high blood pressure. So now, I am benefitting from Indian traditional medicine.

My hip still aches when I walk. Not as bad as before. The therapist said that when the baby is a girl, it is the left side of the body that carries the weight. When it is a boy, it is the right side of the body that takes the most beating. From the looks of it, I will have to bear with this for the next four months. This is pain because of the increasing weight I am carrying.

Attack of the Lazies

An advantage to a consultancy gig in an exploitative, underpaying government think-tank is that my superior’s hands are tied in times I ask that I work from home.

For the past three days (well, three months, in fact), this project I am working and slaving on (even made me risk my baby’s life at one time) has made me want to blow my top off on my PM, so many times. I usually get pissed when I have to pinch-hit, under pressure, and do someone else’s work because of incompetence. I think my body has long adopted a mechanism to deal with such stressors. I get ‘lazy attacks’.

They say it is normal during pregnancy not to want to work or to get moody. Funny thing is, I like working. I am still good at it. I am still fast and disciplined. I just have lesser patience to deal with externalities lately.

Instead of working, I spent today sleeping soundly.

Which is kind of ironic since I just had this conversation last night with Pong. He was asking his mom to find a babysitter for us when the time comes that I have to go back to work. I was proud of him because not once did he consider making me give up my career to care for the baby, even with all the yaya horror stories floating around.

He said pointblank that he could not imagine me giving it all up to stay at home and care for the baby. Nor does he want me to. Then he asked me if I want to.

I cannot imagine myself giving up my work to care for the baby. Lucky for me though, I am in a work environment where I can keep up my career and still have time for the baby. Working from home is possible. I can even do four-day workweeks and flexi-time. They will let me adjust my schedule if I want to. I am even working on two jobs right now and I can continue doing so without having to spend 10 hours in the office, 5 days in a week.

So I don’t imagine giving up work but I do know that there are compromises I can make so that the kid will not grow up in the typical ‘no-quality-time’ family.

I do foresee that there will be a time when I will declare a mini-retirement. When my most important goals have been met and i am tired. Probably in 4-5 years. I relish the day when I will just look at my supervisor in the eye and say, ‘I don’t want to handle that project. I am taking a 6 month sabbatical effective tomorrow’.

I look forward to the time when I can just walk away for some time and not worry if I will have enough money because I already have enough saved up. I will not worry that my marketability will decline because I already established my portfolio and my networks and getting another job or project is easy. I will not worry that I will compromise my daughter’s future because it is provided for already.

In no way do I salivate at the thought of early retirement. I like work. What I dream of is the freedom of doing what I want without considering monetary compensation anymore. That I can take on volunteer work for six months in some province in need of a development project and my family will not complain. In fact, they will be happy to go there with me.

Until that day of the ultimate lazies, I will take my lazy days whenever I can.

Caught by the Nesting Bug

I caught some virus and my system has not been able to get rid of it yet. Apparently, this bug is prevalent among pregnant women, 5 months and up. Symptoms include constant desire to clean, to fix, to throw away things, and to organize clutter. Reasons for this range from the irrational behavior that elevated amounts of hormones triggers or the psychological/physiological urge to prepare one’s ‘nest’ for the upcoming offspring.

Whatever it is, I definitely have it.

Every plague has its victims. So far, my closet has taken the most beating. My shoes are packed and boxed but are not yet distributed (I have yet to find new homes for my previous babies), clothes that I have never been quite comfortable wearing are now on a garage sale here in the office (Sob, sob, g2000 slacks are going for 50 bucks), my clutches have been given away, and old ratty gym bags were thrown out.

It wasn’t just my clothes. My Pong’s also took a beating. He has two plastic bags of to-be donated outdated longsleeves, college shirts he has outgrown, neckties he never used to show for my determined streamlining efforts. Only thing he refused to let go of are his porn collection, but at least everything is now neatly and inconspicuously kept in CD cases and magazine racks.

I spend my weekends dreaming of shelves and other home organizing instruments. In fact, of all the things I can have on my birthday, I ended up happily buying a bookshelf. I am stopping myself from buying one more.

Next on my list is a better closet-dresser.

Shoe-less

My right foot is now longer than my left foot by half an inch. Whereas, I used to be a size 7, I am now a size 8. From what I have read, shoe sizes don’t shrink back.

So shoe-fetishes beware. Just like me, you might have to endure one of the more painful moments in purging your closet – outgrowing your stilletoes, packing them up, and maybe giving them away. Ouch, ouch.

I am still optimistic so I haven’t packed those that cost more than two thousand. The rest are now in their boxes, waiting for a new owner. (To my friends who are lucky enough to have size 7, just message me if you want them.)

*I tried taking pictures of my shoes to post here. It was too painful.

The Dinner Conundrum

There is one aspect in this whole family way part that I have been continually failing at for the past few months – preparing meals, especially dinners.

When I wasn’t pregnant, meals were not a problem. Two day old pizza was not a problem. So were canned goods or any other takeout.

Then morning sickness set in. Until now, my body still rejects anything that is not good for me – oil, MSG, junk, soft drinks, sweets, and so on. For the past few months, the perennial question has been  – what are we having for dinner?

At first, I looked up to Martha for answers. I checked the site, watched the show, looked up the magazines. But most of the ingredients could not be found here (or maybe I was just too stupid to know what they are in the supermarket). It will also require tools we do not have yet. Even her 20 minute, easy dinners were just too tiring to do at the end of a long day. I needed something simpler.

I turned to the Martha nemesis, Rachel Ray.  MSN money said that Martha’s stocks are going down. And the new domestic queen is Rachel Ray. She is hipper and her approach to cooking suits working moms best. Less frills, simple, and good, I was sold. So I went around looking up Rachel Ray. I found her recipe book in Powerbooks – Simple Dinners with Rachel Ray. A bit pricey for a recipe book but I figured if this will solve my dinner problems, then why not? Alas, I browsed the menu and again it is full of ingredients that I do not know how they look like nor where to get them. I do not know nor eat most of the food as well. Bummer.

So I am reduced to drawing up my dinner plan from scratch. What am I hoping to design? A dinner plan that I can prepare on weekends and I will just heat during the weekday. Just get me through Saturday to Wednesday, takeouts for Thursday and Friday.

But then again, if I can just carefully plan out my takeouts for the week, I think it is still more cost-efficient.

Darn, me lazy mommy.