Life Within a Life

I feel like I’ve just returned from some insane acid trip, complete with unbelievable highs, bizarre, sucker-punch lows and general surreality (totally a word) all around. If the houses melted into a pool of white chocolate, then miraculously appeared as though nothing had happened, I would have merely chalked it up to a laced prenatal vitamin.

I’ve been away again, this time in Pennsylvania for an engagement party of a childhood friend and a long visit with my parents. It was sort of my father’s greatest dream AND worst nightmare rolled into one — hooray! His daughter is pregnant! But wait! He’s a gourmet cook and all she wants is cereal! — because he couldn’t even cook for himself. I’m sure he has fond memories of me screeching “OH MY GOD NO. NO BASIL. NO. IS THAT TOMATO SAUCE? OH MY GOD,” while I lurched into the bathroom. My poor, poor dad.

Anyway, despite the lurching, I am feeling a bit better, which is leading to fears that I am no longer pregnant. This is somewhat ridiculous, considering that I am now wearing maternity pants, because I woke up on Sunday morning looking a bit puffy around the middle and now look like I’ve taken up an unfortunate habit of eating dozens of donuts in my spare time. Although given the fact that my mom made three kinds of pie, this isn’t unreasonable.

The first dose of surreal came while sitting around the table with my best childhood friends Matt and Charlie — people I’ve known since I was TEN — while I held my friend Matt’s newborn and laughed as he told me about birth from the male perspective (“The smell, dude. Jonna, THE SMELL,” he said, as his wife emphatically nodded along. “Matt is not over the smell and may never be.” I am now afraid of smells).

I mean, I sat there in Matt’s mother’s backyard pregnant, holding Matt’s BABY while talking to Charlie about his new marriage and plans for kids. So much about it could have been happening in 1985 — we could have still been ten-year-olds, laughing about bad movies and making fun of each other, while his mom served us lemonade — but it wasn’t, and we’re different and it was all absurdly “Sunrise, Sunset” and oh my God, what the hell, I’m an ADULT and PREGNANT and my friends have KIDS, what the HELL.

Whenever I hear that children need siblings, if only to have a witness to their childhood and help support each other as their parents age, I can’t help but think of these guys. I mean, these people still know me better than I sometimes know myself and vice versa and … well. I think we make our own families, even when our own aren’t necessarily deficient. It also gives me hope that if I have a girl — one of my biggest fears, by the way — maybe two little boys will befriend her in fifth grade and stay friends with her for her entire life, shielding her from all the drama and other crap everyone else complains they experienced in high school. (I had none. And it’s because of them.)

The insanity continued while maternity shopping with my mom, when I kept holding clothes up or trying them on saying things like, “But this is HUGE,” and her retorting, “Yes, but what do you think is going to HAPPEN TO YOU?” and I’ve gone up a whole band AND cup size and oh my God, I’m PREGNANT and it’s all very freaky and thrilling, but at the same time, a little upsetting. I mean, yes, there is the usual anxiety about the whole thing, but I also have to confess that I’m a little uncomfortable being pregnant around my parents because I don’t like them having concrete evidence that I’ve had …. *whisper* sex. Hello, I’m TWELVE.

It gives me the creeps, I don’t know why (see: TWELVE), despite the fact that I know that THEY had sex to have me — well, at least my bio dad and bio mom did. They’re no longer together. The set of parents I refer to here are the paternal side. I have a mom and dad on my maternal side too. And aren’t I so very modern and comfy with divorce and stepparents! Whee!

On the bad side of surreal, I’ve spent a lot of time over the last several days reeling from what’s happened to Lawyerish’s beautiful little girl. I wish there was a stronger word than … sucks, but I don’t think there’s a word that exists for such horror. I still believe that the world is mostly magical and wonderful, but sometimes it’s just shittastic and wholly unfair, like getting kicked in the gut over and over and over again.

I hope you have a great day. For my part, I have an ultrasound on Thursday, where I hope they’ll be an actual baby in there and not, say, a puppy or a cricket.

*Jesca Hoop

27 comments August 27th, 2008