One Week To Go

I reached the time when everyone is waiting for me to give birth. They tend to be jumpy at the office everytime I wince. They wonder if I am giving birth already whenever I am late for work. They keep on telling me to inform them if it is time to have the vehicle send me to the hospital. 

My tummy is certainly huge. I do not even want to think about the stretchmarks anymore. At least it is payday today. Financially, this is as ready as we could be, I think. I am off to buy my pump today, then sterilize two bottles then I am done. 

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My doctor friend said that I should talk to the baby now since she can hear me. We did that yesterday and she was funny. Although she was not directly responding to the questions we posed, she was really active for an hour last night. She was kicking and playing around like she knew that it was playtime. 

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We are still deciding on a name. If it is a boy, his name will be Karl. If it is a girl, that is where we still have not agreed on anything. I want Kallie or Kassie for a nickname. Simone sounds good for a second name. Pong does not really take the name game seriously. He keeps on making fun of the choices. 

We will finalize this weekend as well. 

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Another sibling of Pong is in town. We are due to meet him this Sunday. 

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There are some anxious thoughts that run in my head from time to time. Especially as the day gets nearer and nearer. Whenever I think about anything scary, I fixate on one good thought. 

Every morning before going to work, Pong says goodbye to me and my tummy. He kisses both of us a lot. Then whispers I love you. I am happy that the baby can hear him. The world may be a scary place for anyone to live in, but at least I know that our baby knows how much she is loved by her parents.

That should go a long way to help her find security, strength, and resilience to live in this world.

Uncomfortable and Two Weeks To Go

Week 38 is here. I am glad because that means that even if I am early, my baby will not be premature anymore. 

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I am told to prepare my hospital bag. There is something tricky about that though. For the past 2 months when I got big, I only lived on 2 weeks worth of clothes. Packing up 5 days worth of clothes effectively cuts down my meager wardrobe choices to one week. Anyway, I will pack up, maybe today. 

Might just pack 2 days worth of clothes then have Pong pick up the rest. Then I need to have the baby clothes laundered. 

I just need to meet up with my friend A so I can get my new nappy bag from Baby Couture (yey!).

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It is harder to move and walk about. As I told Pong, what I dread most about going CS is the further immobility it brings. I already suffered through months of limited immobility. I am itching to go back out there again. 

I wish Mini will cooperate and let me deliver her normally. 

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Lazy Sunday. The rain stopped and we can finally walk around.

Trade-offs

This is not a post on pregnancy nor motherhood. This is rather personal. Actually, this is a ranting about work. I think I have a twisted understanding of it.

I have been here in this office for a little over a year now. I have two main bosses, the Director and the Supervisor. For the past year, the Director has been gone for 3/4ths of the year. So I have only been reporting to my Supervisor for most of the time. Now, the Director is back. There are certain things I want to say to her face that I already told my Supervisor before.

I can’t believe I have to repeat the same speech again.

I have been accused of tardiness, lack of discipline, and unreliability. I am itching to really answer those things. But I do not want to sound defensive during my evaluation so I kept my mouth shut.

So let me address it here, in this blog. Maybe I can see for myself whether my arguments are sound before I air it out to my boss.

Regarding the tardiness… I am inherently lazy. Especially when I do not know what’s my purpose of going or doing anything.

Anyway, there is a physical and medical explanation to that. I suffered from severe hyperthyroidism when I got out of college. Years of medication and treatment could only stabilize me. It cannot return the stamina I once had in college.

In general, I can work steadily on bursts (like two weeks or even a month), but I need to insert the periodic rest (like halfdays or two hour lateness) to keep me giong). And when the work is done, I need to take time off for about a week just to recover. I am only 25, but gone were the days when I can shrug off a long week on one Sunday.

I had two choices, take a stable 8-5 job that does not require much from me or take the job like mine which mentally stimulates me but will physically cost me. I chose the latter because the first one is not for me even if I tried.

I know that if I went to work for the big guns and big payers, they will expect me to produce non-stop at a regular time. It is an arrangement that I know that I can do for some time especially if I am paid a lot but I know I will not be able to sustain in the long-run without taking a toll on my body. So I consciously chose to work for a low-paying government agency constrained to hire contractual workers only on a non-employee-employer relationship so that I get to do the projects I wanted to work on while I will be earning enough to pay for myself but I can afford my time offs.

That is why I get pissed everytime people bug me about my tardiness.

I made a conscious choice to forego paid maternity leaves, sick leaves, vacation leaves, and health benefits. But these assholes would insist that I report to work 9-6 everyday even if I let them deduct my tardiness from my salary. Even worse, I will be threatened with bad-mouthing to my future bosses because  of it. Fuck.

I am not (nor are my uberly admirable officemates) a regular employee then why should they insist on measuring performance like I am one?

The second thing that ticks me off is the claim of unreliability.

Today, I am working on a bidding proposal that I know we are going to lose. We do not have the competency for it. We do not have the human resources and the experience to pull it off compared to the other heavyweights who are going to fight it out there. I am not a sissy. I am up for a good fight anytime. But I hate fighting wars I know we are going to lose.

Unlike most people here, I only have a limited energy resource. I do not like wasting it on losing ventures. But unfortunately, it is not my call to make.

So what do you think? Should I tell that to my boss?

Down, Down, Down

That is just my income starting to go down. For the past three days, I have been going to work quite late. I have been sleeping longer it seems. I know this is normal since I am already less than three weeks away from my expected due date. 

Anyway, there are still two pesky projects I couldn’t seem to close out once and for all so I still have to go to work. 

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Had our check up with the OB yesterday. I am generally happy since the baby’s heartbeat is okay. She did not make any comment that the baby seem to be too big. And my weight has been normal. 

I told Pong that I will jump off the bridge if I hit 150 pounds. I happily stayed at 140 pounds. 

One last check up for the 17th then it is showtime for kiddo.

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Meanwhile, the still-to-be-named Kiddo has been mercilessly kicking my ribcage for the past weeks. In between waking me up from my sleep or bugging me at work, I take it as a good sign that the baby is already in position to come out. 

Our OB said that a last ultrasound is not needed anymore. Whether I will be normal or c-section will only be known for sure during the delivery. I should just pray for the best. 

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I am undeniably getting lazier. I will not deny that I have been going to work for my salary alone. 

Despite such ignoble intentions, I am proud to say that I am still sharp. I am still doing work. I can still produce when needed.

A Bassinet, A Bassinet

Stuff are drizzling in as I said before. 3 weeks to go and I still have not spent anything on stuff. I am embarassingly waiting for all the gifts to come before I start buying. The list is happily filling itself up. Another shower due on the 7th I think. Then Pong will bug his officemates one last time for hand-me downs. After that, I will know what are left for use to buy. 

Today, we happily welcomed a bassinet from my dear, dear friend Linda and her hubby. This was the bassinet they used for my godchild, Bella. They went to our place today to show how it is done. I happily showed them a 7 year old picture of me (fat and awkward) holding the infant Bella. There was also another picture from her 3rd birthday party I attended. 

Now, Bella is excited to see me big and pregnant. It is ironic that it is her turn to have a picture with my baby soon enough.

The Things That I Miss

I came from lunch with a former officemate.  He has always been skeptical about my pregnancy. He feels that I am missing out on a lot because I got pregnant.

Got me thinking… what are the things I do miss?

1. I miss wine. Not because I want to get intoxicated. I miss white wine over pasta and a lot of laughter in between. There are still pastas, breads, and conversations during m pregnancy. For some reason, I believe wine completes it.

2. I miss tea. This is my favorite drink. I miss it with honey.

3. I miss running. Wind on my face, pushing myself, my chest tightening from exertion, finishing all sweaty and puffy.

4. I miss the sauna. Staying there for some time, getting myself detoxified, forcing my body to let go of dirt and all the emotional bad vibes associated with it.

5. I miss a full-body, hard massage. Although I have been getting my massages from time to time, it has been mostly for my head and shoulders. The therapist also tends to go light on the pressure. I miss the pain that comes with pressure on tense muscles and the relief that comes after.

Come to think of it, I miss sensations. Contrary to the assumptions that I will miss going out, being single, shopping, drinking, and all other single rituals, I miss experiences. I miss certain feelings that complete an experience.

Anyway, I am relieved that after listing them down I realize that I do not miss anything that I cannot have back after my pregnancy.

Almost Week 37

In 10 or more days, I will reach the ‘coming-anytime-soon’ plateau. The baby is getting heavy now. Several times I feel like she is already testing her way out.

I only have a few days left to prepare my hospital bag (hehehe, yep, guilty of laziness), finish stacking up on all her stuff, and finalize our finances. I am soooo guilty of pushing my luck.

In terms of preparation, my deadline is still mid-November. I did not provide for the eventuality that the baby will be premature nor did I think that the baby will be two weeks early. I am hoping that she will be on time, 3rd week of November.

I am still in the middle of a project, one that I am simultaneously writing the technical report and wrapping up the contract. Most probably, I will not finish the project, but I should at least finish the technical report. The four weeks I have left is good for me so far.

I am due on the 22nd but I am still hoping to have enough hours to spare to credit my salary until the 25th (so I can have the full amount). Even now, I am still in the process of securing another contract for a gig to last me until January.

This is a boo-boo, right? Until now, we have not agreed on the baby’s name. I have no idea what is ahead for me during the delivery. I don’t even know if I am in labor already or not. Tsk tsk.

Sigh, I know I should not waste more time on this though. Still have a lot of work ahead. Even if I am just three weeks away.

My Baby Shower, Tomorrow…

My two fairy godmothers delivered as promised. I gave them a short list of people I would like to see tomorrow and they took care of it. 

Some said they could not make it. Some confirmed. I do not know who will be there. I am excited to see who will show up. More than the gifts, I wanted to see them. Have a light lunch. Laugh a lot. Let them see me pregnant. Take some pictures of me and my bump, finally. 

I actually went around to look for something to wear for tomorrow. I found something I wanted but it was so expensive. Even if we can afford it, I felt it was in bad taste to wear something so expensive while people I love were bringing food and stuff for me and my baby. Will just wear something cheap for tomorrow.

Slightly Disoriented

For the past 8 months of my pregnancy, it was a never ending rush to get things in order when the baby comes. There are still a few things that I need to address but for most of the time, we feel that we have prepared as much as we can. 

With 4 weeks to go, the common advice is to enjoy the last few days of quiet and peace. Take things one day at a time. And so on.

Sage advice from women who have been there, done that. 

I do feel slightly disoriented. You see, I am anal about my goals and my lists. It is almost end of the year, hence, I should already have drafted next year’s plans. For most of the year, all our plans and targets have been centered on November (for the delivery) and December (if things go well with the delivery, we use the money to finish off Pong’s debts). 

Most of the assumptions we made are already ensured. It is just a matter of living out the next few weeks and execute. I am stumped though when thinking about what happens by next year. I usually have plans for the next 6 months ready at any time. And I definitely always know what to gun for the next year when 4th quarter comes.

Now though, I am not sure anymore of what I am running for. After a year of over-achieving on both our ends, I find myself in unfamiliar territory. With a baby in the picture, what happens next?

I ask myself what I want to achieve for myself next year. My answers have been surprising. I would want to get the Chevening, definitely, but right now I am not even sure if it will break my heart if I don’t. It is hard for me to imagine being away from my baby. I do know how much finally getting my postgraduate degree will help me and my family career-wise and finances-wise. 

Workwise, I just want to continue the pace and the work I have done so far. Maybe handle two to three more projects of a similar nature. Financially, I want us to continue saving. Divide our savings into money for retirement and money for investment. Other than that, I like our simple lifestyle and I want us to just maintain it. As for Pong, he only wants to be able to live a debt-free life and to find a new job by next year.

Together, we just want to be able to care for the baby as best as we can for the next year.

Emancipation and Exploitation

Here in the Philippines, yayas or nannies are the main instruments of child-caring in a household with a working mother. Nannies are of course not a uniquely Filipino phenomenon. Based on my experience though, there are some nuances to the yaya and amo dynamics that make it culturally singular.

There are several things about that relationship that makes me hesitant, even if how much needed, to enter in one.

The working woman is the epitome of emancipation from the strictures of a paternalistic society. These women work either out of necessity or out of innate love for work. Whatever the reason, they have the choice to utilize their talents and skills in fields that are supposed to bring them fulfillment. To propagate this system, the yaya is the main instrument that allows for this freedom.

In my society, the demographics of a yaya is someone from the province, forced to be away from her family so she can earn money to send to her ailing parents or overly-fertile siblings or studying cousins. Our family have been lucky to have yayas who stayed with us for most of their lives. My mother’s yaya stayed with our family until the time she died. Our current yaya, the one who cared for me up to my youngest brother was just 18 when she started with us. She is now in her mid-forties.

Although they are already considered part of the family, there is something about their plight that I cannot bring myself to impose on someone else.

In both instances, the yayas who stay with one family ends up not having a family of their own. They work for very low wages. There is no option of promotion to another field. There is no opportunity for them to improve on their station in lives. Whatever money they earn goes to their family in the province.

In a lot of ways, these yayas are seen as all-around slaves who owe their employers loyalty instead of employees.

Conversely, I have seen how dependent my family has been to these yayas. I remember fights between my parents over the yaya. My mom believes until now that they are a necessity.

The marxist Pong will never agree, but in any unequal relationship, whether you are master or the slave, both players will never be free.

I will want to continue working after the baby is born. I do not know yet how to make it happen without falling into that trap. Daycares are not available here in the country.

One thing I do know is that my emancipation from the kitchen and children should not come at the expense of someone else’s exploitation.