Fat Cat Feels Purrty

I am not sure what it is about being pregnant that alters your mind. People always tell me that when you become pregnant it “changes everything.” I wouldn’t presume they realize the tone in which they say it, although sometimes I think the underlying message is intentional, and therefore shines through a little more dominantly than they expected. It’s a negative tone, nearly indescribable, a condescending vibration used mainly by singles and those who haven’t had such a great experience, but is universally spoken by everyone whenever people (such as myself) suddenly find themselves wondering what it might be like to have a child.

“It’s a different life,” they say, sure to add on that famous disclaimer, “Not necessarily a bad one. Just a different one.”

While I can appreciate the ups and downs any parent might go through, and recognize that it’s not all fun and games, I can’t say that hearing this overplayed theme leaves a positive impression for anyone. Regretfully, I get the feeling that we have a guarded feeling towards pregnancy. Yet how could we not? In our defense, with the hard times of the economy, the increasing opportunities for women who chose to be independent, and not to mention the younger age at which girls are giving birth, of course we would want to discourage them from taking such a life altering leap. However, in my humble opinion, perhaps that approach is wrong.

Why shun the idea of having a child? In no way do I endorse the idea of a fourteen year old running off to conceive, but I do think with healthy values, we could encourage that fourteen year old to treat pregnancy less like a disease, and with respect. As a process of life that needs to be properly prepared for to get the most enjoyment out of it.  Why talk about it with distain?

My own outlook changed vastly once I had received some advice from a friend. “Your life is changing,” she said, “You are entering a new stage. You were the maiden all these years. Now it’s time to be the mother.” From her perspective, instead of breaking life down into the before and after stages of having a child (first you’re fun, free, and now your life is… different) she used the comparison of the triple goddess of the old religions. Worshiped for her aspects, she was viewed as a journey all women underwent, each stage being vitally important for each generation. She was right. I had experienced the joys of a young girl. I had spent my years making mistakes, learning, living as a maiden soaking up the possibilities of my future. Now, in the present, I can say that I am comfortable where I am. I feel that I have attained the personality and to some extent (no one is perfect) the lifestyle I wanted. Having achieved that, I had been blessed to move on to the next stage, the stage of motherhood. And eventually (even though it might pain me to say it now) I will undergo the task of becoming the crone. I will become the old women who dotes on the young, and hopefully, the wise one who can be looked upon with respect.

That said, it is Halloween today, and I had such trouble selecting my costume. I suppose it’s because I am having a more difficult time selecting a style for myself. The transition period to motherhood leaves me with a few minor details I need to clean up. What’s my style? Is style necessary? Will I become conservative or boring now, or is it ok to still be sexy (in that pleasing, attractive way, not in the slutty, ‘I want to be young again’ kind of way). And how? I’ve always had trouble appreciating my appearance, and now thanks to a combination of hormones and attitude, I am mixed up. At times I feel pretty, like my blossoming self is just right, and that when it’s done I can work on losing all that weight, so I should just enjoy being a balloon now. Then again, I’ve only just begun to show, so it looks more like I’ve been getting a head start on the Halloween candy for the past week rather than I’m carrying a child!

I finally settled on a black cat. I’ve always loved cats anyway, and since I was going to have to work and I wanted it to be simple, what better than some black cat ears, a tail, and a few accessories? Maybe not my best work, but definitely  something I can be comfortable in. It was so important for me to enjoy Halloween, especially since I am a believer that the things you do while pregnant affect your baby. Personally, I'd like to point out that one of the things I am looking forward to most in being a mother are the holidays. As stressful as they can be, I've always had great memories thanks to my own family.  

So my belly is bulging, my belt hangs just under it, and behind me a tail swings. In some moments I chuckle, thinking, “I guess I’m not just any black kitty. To be more specific, I’m that neighborhood black cat that got knocked up.” However, since I don’t think that’s what customers want to hear, I guess I’ll keep that one to myself.  

Above: Feeling a little insecure, I get over the fact that my cheeks look like they are harboring tootsie rolls and get to loving halloween! Now all I need is my witch! Note the original loop earrings in my kitty ear. Yeah, those were old belly button rings.

"I'm late! I'm late I'm late!" said the white rabbit...

The day I found out I was pregnant, just two days after September the 7th, my world became a dream. I had before experienced the occasional pregnancy scare, but this time I knew. I felt it spiritually, in a very serene way that provided enough confidence to buy a test without waiting the traditional extra few days (just to be sure). Still, my dominant human brain said that at twenty six years old I needed to have my doubts.

It took less than a few moments for that secondary pink line to show, creating a plus, or positive, result. Dumbfounded, I took another. Again, positive.

I couldn't stiffle a smile at first. In my private world this was a phenominon, a shock to someone who always thought of her future as that of a lonely old maid. Too many relationships carried far enough and then fallen short, had brought me to a stage in my life when I was settled into my own way of being and considered my future a plateau. I like to think that our initial reactions are our truest, since the shock leaves us ill prepared to hide behind practiced emotions. But something strange was already taking over that smile. My body was still firmly planted to the ground, but my mind was skyrocketing into the clouds, and there, all those fluffy things began to make shapes. Worry began to overcome, as I pictured what my family, my partner, and my friends would think. I wanted desperately for someone to be happy for me, but previous experience told me to go ahead and prepare for the worst.

The excitement managed to linger, only thanks to my friend, Pat, who I had not seen or spoken to in ages. Yet readily she answered my message, and then we were talking on the phone. As she was married with a new son, she was excited for me, and for that brief time I was able to let go of the menacing storm clouds and turn my eyes again to the sun. 

My mother was the next to find out. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but being that it was so fresh I couldn't help but want to weep. Only with a little luck did I manage to supress the urge and keep my dignity. I think she was just worried about me, as her face contorted into shock and she asked me in a very nuetral manner what I was going to do. We conversed like two adults about the subject, which put me on edge because I was slightly emotional about the whole thing. I, the girl who was not supposed to get married or have children, was suddenly put in a very vulnerable position. But my own defense determined that I had to remain logical, to talk about options like abortion, adoption, keeping it, and whether or not the father knew with a detatched mind. Sometimes I wonder what her initial reaction really was. Did she think I was pleading for help, or was she happy? Or maybe, (my trusted theory is) she really didn't know what to think. The latter is probably true, since she remained nuetral until she knew for certain whether or not I was going to keep it, at which time she sided with my decision, and I'm thankful for that.

Days went by. I remember them vaguely, because I spent them in my room either talking to Pat, my mother, or crying, wondering how I was going to tell Vincent. We had known each other for a year, and our friendship was very dear to me. The fact that we had achieved such a harmonious relationship out of what began as casual meetings was something I treasured and did not want to lose. We had talked about this very subject, just two months before on a drunken evening. What we would say and do if this day should ever come about. I couldn't help but feel that all that talk couldn't be trusted, not now, even though Vincent had never done anything contradictory to what he valued. It was simply not in my nature to be so trusting. As previously stated, I prepared for the worst. I figured I was about to lose one of my best friends.

Why then would the Divine forces give me this blessing now? In retrospect, I gave myself so much grief trying to let the situation resolve itself. There were days when I thought that I would just wake up, and return to life like normal. There were moments when I thought for certan I would be unlucky enough to miscarry, and why bother telling Vince at all if that was going to be the fate? Then there were the times when I thought that he would just guess. My initial joy was disipating, and it wasn't until Vincent prepared to leave for three days on vacation, that I decided I would tell him.

I caught him just before he was off of work. I started out with my practiced lines, all of which came out shaky and a lot less elegant than I had originally thought myself to be.
"I'm glad I caught you, I need to talk to you. You know I would never do anything to mess up your life. I would never try to trick you...You're very important to me. I value our friendship and really care about you. I wouldn't change anything about it." Poor, confused Vince replied, "Ok, I care about you too."
"Do you have any idea where I'm going with this?"
"No," and then, "Now you're starting to make me nervous."
"Good, because you should be." And after stalling to the point that I admited to myself I was begining to sound ridiculous, I told him, "I don't know how else to say this, so I'm just going to come out and say it. I took a test and it was positive."
Initial shock. He did his famous, nerdy gesture in which he readjusted his glasses, grabbing the side with his index finger and thumb only. Behind those frames his eyes were wide. "You think you might be pregnant?"
At this point I started smiling again. At the very least, he wasn't furious, and he was so silly looking, and I was so awfully nervous. Relief has a strange way of making you feel light hearted again. 
"Wow," he said, this time quite loud, "That's some news to hear."
And so from then on, we were both giggly, mainly because we didn't know what to say to one another, and I think we both were in a state of confusion and fear. At least, for all that is Vincent, he never failed to make me laugh, even then, as he pulled out one joke after another, and then told me that no matter what happens, he wouldn't leave.

Three days he was out of town. I had specifically decided to tell him before he left, for in my own selfish scheme, I had decided that he would not feel obligated to call me, nor would I wonder if he didn't want to be around me. He would have three days to party, to be shocked, angry, or upset, and even if it took a little longer than that, at least those first few days would be a good chance for both of us to do a little thinking.

I was lucky. In hindsight, I can't help but feel it was meant to be. At times I think both Vincent and I feel that way, and then there are times when I suppose we, like many other people, have our doubts. I don't think there is any way to handle a situation perfectly, nor would I have changed the reactions of those I told, even those that were outright negative. In a way it became fun, a form of entertainment (as terrible as that sounds) to watch eyes widen and hear tones of disbelief. Once I had told the person who mattered most, I could move on. If anything, I realized while preparing for the worst is an excellent defense mechanism, it can shatter the faith you have in people. I should have had more appreciation for Vincent, with all the time I had known him and come to trust in him, I could have saved myself days of emotional stress. With that said, it was still worth it to see his face in that singular moment.