fame

and my most recent claim to it is that I'm the only client my acupuncturist has had whose breech baby didn't turned within twenty four hours of the first treatment. I've had three, oy. (and that'd be treatments, not babies...)

I see my OB tomorrow, so if the cumulative effects of the acupuncture have turned the baby right side up (which is upside down) we'll know then. If it hasn't turned, we're going to manually turn it. Or rather, he is, and I'm going to lie there in a Ventolin haze while Chris goes to work. Now, it isn't without risk, and a certain percentage of babies turn right back again anyway, so if anyone is reading, please, please wish us both a fuckload of luck because I believe in the power of remote luck wishing. :)

When I woke up this morning, the baby was having a field day moving and kicking and bouncing around- things that, as an aside, it hardly every fucking does, and has just taken to doing now that it's about to hit the eject button anyway - and I realised how much I'm going to miss being pregnant. This has literally been the time of my life.

Looking back on these last few months, it has been hard, but I see that only when I look back and dissect the days. What I remember most and most easily, and what I still feel, is an overwhelming sense of wonder and joy. It eclipses everything, even the hardest parts. It even softened the grief of trying to reconcile how a man could abandon his own child out of disdain for me. I mention this, not because I want to be the recipient of any 'aw, poor you' thoughts, but because I get a kick out of letting random people know what a dipshit ol' boofo is. It's still a tough one though, not the grief bit because, pfft, I don't give a shit about him and anyway, his behavour amuses me, in a wry sort of way. The toughness lies in the reconciling bit, where the issue is in how I go about giving my child every opportunity to establish a relationship with its father, with no influence from me or my feelings for that fuckwad (and as you can see, I'm not doing so well with that last bit yet...), and with, to date, a father who is being the fuckwad I referred to earlier.

The other challenge has been how I can face poverty again after finally getting myself out of debt and edging toward a career after a lifetime of nothingness, without feeling I've failed in some way. On the one hand, I feel my life dramatically changed from the course I'd so judiciously set, while on the other, I realise this child is a direct result of the efforts I've made. Still though, and despite this sage reasoning, I feel I've taken the easy way out and chosen motherhood over working toward meeting my goals. You see, I didn't have to work hard to achieve this, so in my arsebackward mind, it must mean I'm lazy and have no direction. Commence eye rolling now. Thankyou.

And my point is....lost somewhere in this progesterone haze. I think it was that I really enjoy being pregnant, but I got sidetracked by, you know, stuff. The end. Or not. Let me get back to you.