15 weeks!

Can I just say how excited I am to be more than a third of the way through this? We're having the sonogram and will attempt to locate boy/girl parts at the end of the month. I'm still feeling sick. My doctor prescribed some medication, finally, which wound up averaging (I kid you not) $40 per pill. It works well (for 24 hours, even, the first time I tried it), but since I was only given 6, and we can't afford the refills, I'm trying to save them up for this campus visit (early next week!).

Also, I'm wondering, if this academic job thing doesn't work out, might I have any chance of becoming one of these?

my parents... again

So I'd been feeling terribly guilty about how grouchy I've found myself feeling during all these phone conversations with my mom. She calls a few times a week, and is always full of questions. I've found myself answering them in short sentences, wanting not to engage, wanting to keep my pregnancy and the rest of what's happening to me mostly to myself.

Now I'm starting to realize that I have good reason for feeling this way.

So, I mentioned this campus interviewI have coming up. It's at a school a really like, and in a part of the country I'd love to live in. If P. weren't to get a job somewhere else (I won't be surprised if he gets several offers), it would be a good place to bring him too, as there are large cities (= more jobs) close enough by. So I've been trying to pull together material for my research and teaching presentations. I was excited about the possibilities there.

But then, my parents called. My mom talked first, asked me if I was still going (???), asked if I'd found out more information about what the visit will entail. I told her a few more details, and she wondered aloud if it was "worth all that trouble." "Are you really suggesting I call and just tell them I'm not coming?" I asked her. No, it wasn't that, she said, but then she asked "what if they want you to commit right away?" and she asked about P. I told her that neither of us has an offer in hand yet, and this place is actually a really good opportunity. She reminded me that "you're married, and you two have to go together," and then suggested that really I just need to be waiting for P. to get a job because that school could probably come up with something for me, anyway. No, mom, actually spousal hires aren't that easy to come by-- we can't rule out anything yet--

she hands the phone to my dad. He mentions the high cost of living in the area where this school is, told me I better make sure to ask about insurance and benefits, etc., and then also brought up P. "Your job's really secondary at this point," he said.

What the fuck is wrong with them?!?!? P. and I have talked about the two-job situation extensively, and he's never been anything less than supportive about my career. We're already planning to do everything we possibly can to end up in the same place, but we recognize that doesn't always happen. We recognize we'll have difficult decisions to make later on, but we'll try to go where there are the best options for all three of us. I hate my parents' butting in on this (though they assured me in precisely those words that that's not what they were doing). It makes me angry and it hurts my feelings for them to tell me that my career is "secondary." This is a competetive school-- I had to beat out a lot of people to get as far as I have. It hurts not to have gotten a "congratulations" or even a "good luck" from them.

All my life I've had issues with trying to please my parents. I got a ph.D, I got a job my first year on the market, and they were proud. But now that P.'s degree is finished (and probably becasue I'm pregnant, too), that's all over. Now they find it necessary to talk to me about what my new and "secondary" role should be.

update

one more rejection, but also a campus visit request. I have a one in three chance, and it's at one of my favorites of the places I interviewed with at MLA. Yikes. trying not to get my hopes up too much, but I'm feeling far more motivated now than I was.

where do i belong?

First post-mla rejection came today. There will be more.

I dream of getting out of this line of work, but where can I go? I'm not even sure how to begin, where to look for something new.

two hearts

another day at the OB. The whole appointment took maybe 10 minutes, but we heard the baby's heartbeat today! On the way home, I remarked to P. on the strangeness of my having two hearts inside of me, and he informed me that that topologically, that's not really the case. Sure it is! Baby's heart is beating about 170 beats per minute. Excitable little thing. In four weeks, we have the sonogram. The nurse claims they'll only do one unless it's medically necessary to do more, so if we can't tell the sex of the baby next time, we might just have to be surprised. I'm feeling very grumpy about this nurse. This is the same nurse, who, when I called pre-MLA interviews to ask about the possibility of nausea medication, refused me, when the doctor today offered to give me something without my even having to ask. grrrr.

I'm still puking and feeling nauseous almost all of the time which has made me a bit grumpy and unpleasant. I hope this passes soon. I've also gotten into this terrible habit of imagining what the dishes I eat might look like thrown up. I have more knowledge on this subject now than I ever wanted to have.

The interviews went okay, I guess, but I hestitate to get too excited about anything. I am getting more and more anxious about our soon-to-be three body problem, though. So far, none of P.'s conference interviews match up even with states I've interviewed in.

I sound grumpy to myself even here. Don't mean to. I am excited about the pregnancy, and have plenty to be happy about, and things are good with P. But this ugly sensation makes it hard to think about much else.

Hope to see you all on the other side of this soon.

st. p.

p. has been taking care of me, these past several days. i'm still pukey and nauseous, and can't even bear to walk through the kitchen. so p. has been cooking and cleaning and bringing toast to bed. eating has always been one of our favorite things to do together, but food has lost all it's pleasure for me, and so p. has also been subjecting himself to boring things like bagels when he might otherwise be having mexican or thai or at least something not in the bread group. we cancelled our latin american christmas plans because of me. i feel terrible. yet he is saintly and cheerful and begrudges me nothing.

called the doctor's office the other day, mentioned i had job interviews coming up, asked if there was anything at all they'd be willing to do to help me with the nauea. they refused, on account of the fact that i am keeping some food and liquid down, and suggested i try any of the overthecounter stuff listed on a pink sheet they'd given me earlier, or having toast in bed, or ginger tea, or all the other things i've already been trying which haven't worked. so p. took me to walgreens, where i talked to a fatherly pharmacist who recommended-- "you're going to laugh," he said-- cola syrup instead. 2 tsp. over crushed ice, as needed. surprisingly, it does help a little, but only for a while.

i have seven interviews over the course of 2 days next week. really hoping i'll make it through without puking on someone's shoes.

aplogies... er, apologies

I've had a hard time writing here lately, and have grown tired of my own whiny postings. Apologies to whoever's been reading them. I know that these sick feelings will pass eventually, and I just need to focus on doing the best I can to get through the end of semester, parents' visit, the holidays, in-between-holiday MLA interviews, and preparations for next semester's classes.

I have 6 (interviews) so far, which is more than I've gotten in any other year. Now I just need to prepare for them. I'm naturally a bit of a shy person, and interviews can sometimes be a challenge for me. I need to be able to relax, have some confidence, and just talk about what I do and what I love. It's that engagement that really needs to come across, I think. Wish I could borrow a bit of P.'s charm to take with me, though.

Every time a call comes in (P. has received 3 interview requests for this big math conference in January), we start dreaming about what it would be like to live in New York, in Connecticut, in Pennsylvania, Minnesota, and other places. Finding jobs near each other will be a challenge, but when we're not stressing out about that, it's pretty fun to dream.

mortified

The nausea, unbelievably, is worse this morning than it's ever been. I have been trying to nibble on saltines and sip gingerale in the hopes that my stomach will settle down before I teach. And yet this image of me upchucking midsentence in front of the entire class keeps passing through my head. How mortifying would that be? Extremely.

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.

on the market

Someone's sure to understand what I mean.

D'you ever get the feeling, when you're reading a job ad, that THIS is the job that you're PERFECT for? The stars seem aligned, and everything the ad mentions wanting is something you have, something you already DO. You have the experience to prove it. And yet, the job's in such a lovely, sunny place that surely tons of people want to work in. It starts to seem like really, in the end, no matter how perfect you are for the job, the people behind the job just might not interview you anyway.


(sigh)..... if only.

today

at 7:00 am, woke up to alarm and mewing cat. Made groaning noises at cat and violently slapped alarm clock for about 30 minutes. Prepared for class, taught class, met with two students, copied material for one of these students (who's asked me to direct an honors project), returned work-related emails, did some work for a program I'm heading, ate (finally, at 4:30 or so), did more committee-related stuff, came home (after 8pm), did some reading/planning for class tomorrow, wrote up a paper assignment.

It's 10:44 p.m. now. I'm still not ready for tomorrow's 3 classes. Before 9 am I MUST:

• finish creating unit syllabus
• make photocopies
• finish reading play/ planning my Shakespeare class
• finish planning 2 other classes

I would like to, but may not have time to:

• grade response papers so I can hand them back (I'm behind)
• shower
• sleep
• cry
  

This is utterly insane/impossible. How on earth did this happen? Where did the time go? Clearly I should've let the committee stuff slide for another day... I was just feeling so excited/ energetic about it at the time...

I'm so, so tired.

what the... ?

In class discussion today, a student very suddenly got up and bolted out of the classroom. I'm not at all sure what was going on-- my back was turned when he stood up-- but it seems like something offended him. We've been talking about conversational styles, using the Tannen material I mentioned earlier, and how we've been able to see some of them playing out in our classroom (which is predominantly male). Mike (we'll call him) always has something to say in class-- many times, it's something with substance, too. Near the start of the semester, he would just blurt out his ideas, and since I instituted a hand-raising rule, he'll do the thing where he sometimes raises his hand and starts talking without waiting for me to call on him. Today he had his hand up for more extended periods of time. I noticed him, but would call on other students who hadn't said as much in class. When he'd blurt, I think he could tell that I (and other students in the class) weren't responding to him in perhaps the way he'd like.... he said something about feeling like other students were "looking at him funny." Maybe he felt singled out somehow? I don't want to shut this guy up; I only want him to be a bit more aware of his surroundings, and especially of the fact that other people in the room have things to say.

I've had a hard time with this class all semester, and while the hand-raising rule has improved things, it's not always being followed, and discussions still aren't running as smoothly as I wish they were... so we'll come at it again on next time and hope things go better. I'm trying to approach this problem in a calm and constructive way, and I'm trying to get them to think about the way they're interacting with each other. What I hope is that, as a class, we can draft a set of rules for how discussions are going to work from here on out. Maybe hearing their classmates' persepectives will make the problem folks more considerate?

And yet... enough is enough, really. I'm tired of having to yell over people when everyone starts talking at once. I'm tired of having to stop the interrupters from interrupting. I'm tired of students carrying on private conversations when others are addressing remarks to the entire class. Frankly, a number of people are being quite rude. I've tried to address this several times, and maybe they need a lengthier Come-to-Jesus lecture, too, like the kind Professor Bastard describes well (in a very offensively-titled blogpost, though, I must say).

Oh, damn it all. I hate having to discipline college students.