return

Thanksgiving holiday at my brother's house, and with no parental supervision for the first time in many years. Somehow when my parents are around too, I never really get to connect with my brother. Conversation tends to be propelled by my parents, mostly my father, and I somehow get lost in the fray. When I left home for college, I missed my brother most of all. Some of the best memories I have of growing up involve these talks we used to have in his room in the afternoons before mom and dad got home. I'd sit on his floor, and we'd talk about all sorts of things. Often we'd talk about the parents and our frustrations at living in such a constricting environment, but we'd talk about relationships, too, and dreams for the future. However happy I am to be out of my parents' house, I still miss those days.

It was a foursome at my brother's house-- my husband and his wife along with the two of us, but there was a late night when we all sat up talking until we were about to fall asleep right there. My niece is a year an a half now, and adorable. She loves my brother. He'll enter a room, and she'll call out for him, even run to him on her short and wobbly legs. He's so gentle with her, and funny. And looking back on it now, I even catch a glimpse of my own father there.

Morning sickness reared its ugly head while I was visiting... and it hasn't gone away sense. I'd only had mild queasiness in the weeks before, but now it feels like something's squeezing some round ball inside me just below and between my ribs. This discomfort has also made me a bit anxious and even irritable, and now it seems I'm alienated P. This is the down side to pregnancy. I wish I could relax a little, that something could take the edge off of me, make it easier to go to work, to be around, to just be.

now things get complicated

email from birthmother today, wanting to know what my feelings are on her being a grandmother to the baby. She wants to be involved, but doesn't want to presume, since she was never really a mother to me growing up. That's nice on her part, I guess, but it feels pushy this early on, and really I wish she hadn't brought it up. It is uncomfortable to think about, I don't feel like thinking about it right now, and I probably won't feel like thinking about it for a while. Argh. My parents don't even know I'm still in contact with B., or at least they pretend not to know. We haven't talked about that in years, and probably won't, ever again. It would be terrible for my child to mention "grandma B." around my parents, and I don't really feel comfortable drawing her or him into my web of deceit. Of course this entire thread is too early-- I'm not even out of the first trimester yet. Maybe I opened my big mouth too soon? I'm not even sure what my options are. I try so hard to make everyone happy, and in this situation, (as in all circumstances involving my b-family), that's impossible. Clearly my parents' feelings have to take precedence over B.'s, here, but I have a lot more to figure out that I want. I'll probably end up ignoring the email for a few days and worrying B., but I'm not sure what else to do at this point. I could tell her it's still early, that I'll need some time to figure things out, I guess, but it's just easier to pretend it never came up.

I feel guilty already, because I know that unless I keep keeping secrets, someone's not going to be happy with the way things turn out.

Somehow I thought that by having a biological child of my own, I could avoid him or her growing up with issues like these. I'm starting to realize it's not quite that simple.

out

Last night I came home to find P., adorably, reading this in the kitchen and trying to make a fruit salad with yogurt (recipe in the book). He read some pages aloud to me. Unlike some of the other books for expecting dads (some of which struck me as extremely misogynistic!) which we saw while browsing the bookstore the other day, this one is senstive. P. is cooking. P. brings flowers home. P. tries to give helpful advice on what I should be eating. P. pours glasses of milk. P. brings me breakfast while I'm still in my pjs. I could get used to this.

Anyway, last night, it was just too much. We called our parents. His cried with joy. Mine were somewhat more controlled, but I could tell my mother was really excited. She called me back twice after we'd first talked. Everyone's excited. I can't wait.

still +

I can't believe this is really happening. I'm having a hard time concentrating. Why do I have to work today? P. and I have been trying to keep things a bit quiet until we know a little more (until I've been to the doctor), but I'm terrible with secrets-- especially my own.

I hope everything goes okay with us. There's so much I don't know.

I'm nervous/reluctant to tell my parents... for a while, at least. I'm not sure I can quite make sense of it.... but when P. and I called home to tell them that we were engaged, their reaction was less than enthusiastic-- they hoped it would be a long engagement, it was no shame to not get married if we decided that wasn't the best decision, cultural differences, cultural differences. Some months ago, when talking about another relative who'd gotten pregant again with her second child, my father said something about how there's no shame in not having kids, that it's not for everyone... not quite sure how I'm supposed to take a remark like that. The best thing to do, I guess, to read generously. And by "read generously," I mean, not read too much into it.

if I don't tell someone, I'm afraid I just might explode. So slowly, the secret is eeking out.

(sigh) back to work.

update

3 out of 3 varying shades of pink and blue lines seem to agree: the pink lines at Planned Parenthood were very, very faint, but the person who saw me read them as a positive. She said that many positive tests look that way--- very faint, sometimes so faint you almost have to squint to see the line. I guess she would know, right? She estimates I'm 5.5 weeks. Somehow I still feel very hestitant about this, though-- unconvinced, even. I want a darker line, darnit. So I'll test myself again tomorrow or the next day, and then must hie me to a doctor to find out if this can really be happening. Cross your fingers for me? I'll feel very silly if this all turn out to be wrong.

yowza. so much happening all at once.

faded blue lines

so it's a bit too soon to tell, but i just might have some big news. we're visiting planned parenthood later this morning to follow this up. could it be? i'm having a hard time thinking about much else.

it happened again

yesterday. up at 7, to work by 8, worked until class, taught, met with 4 students over the course of the afternoon, worked until 8:30 at the office, when P. picked me up, had dinner, worked somemore and graded a stack of midterms. went to bed at 1am, got up at 7, am scrambling to finish prep for the 3 courses i teach today. this is crazy.

the nose knows

I forgot to mention running into the federal building where we had the immigration interview. Literally. It was one of those revolving glass doors. Seems I went past the opening where you exit the revolving door and enter the building... instead I went a few steps further, then tried walking through the glass that was just past the entrance. I hit it hard. In the nose. It really confused me, and so then I was putting my hands out in front of me trying to sort out where the glass ended, until finally the door went around again, and I made it inside. It doesn't seem I hurt it seriously because there wasn't any bleeding, but there were tears and embarrassment, and my nose still hurts. It hurts when P. kisses me, and it hurts when my glasses slide down just a little, and it just hurts in general.

ouch.

good news

So P. and I drove up to Big City yesterday for today's Big Appointment with the INS (which they call DCIS these days). We'd read horror stories about these interviews; had heard of couples getting pulled apart; one sent back to Mexico, the other remaining in the US, five years before they sorted things out. P. got a book of INS askable questions, like "how did you meet?" and "when was the last time you and your wife saw her siblings together?" and "looking up at the ceiling, which side of the bed do you sleep on?" and "what color is your couch?" and "how often do you do laundry?" and "when did you last have sex?" and "what color underwear is your wife wearing?" and so on. In some of these interviews, couples get split up, asked a series of rapid fire questions, the answers to which are then checked for any inconsistencies. The book, written by a Nigerian who immigrated to the US and is now a lawyer of somesort, said, no pauses when they ask questions, said, be sure you and your mate have consistent and coherent narratives about how you met and how your relationship led to marriage, said, it's best you prepare for these interviews.

So on the drive up, we tried to remember everything... he met my parents for the first time in November of 2001. I met his in September 2002. Our parents met each other in June??? 2004. We met each other June 12, 2001. We were embarrassed about the fact that most of the time we do laundry every 2 weeks and not once a week, and considered whether it might be okay for us to just SAY we do it (and clean the house, too!) every Saturday. We got outraged about the personal questions. My parents don't even know the real story of our meeting-- why must I tell it to some suited bureaucrat?

Our interview lasted less than 20 minutes. We produced photographs, birth certificates, our marriage license, pay stubs and dozens of forms. We were asked very few questions, and none of them were personal. We left with a red stamp approving us for a green card. It comes in two weeks.

Funny I say "us," when really it's only P. who gets the green card. But after all we've gone through, I kind of want one, too.