March 1981 - August 1981
Age 23

"My period still hasn't started, and already I'm beginning to act stupid about it ..."

March 3, 1981
Tuesday afternoon

The beginning of the "final" black journal ... after this, we may see a return to the old spiral-bound format! (Getting back to our roots?)

I have to decide what to do. Stay with Ray? Go back to Grandma & Grandpa's (or Dad's)? Get a job? Get pregnant? NOT get pregnant?

We are once again sharing the house with a third person, and this complicates the situation further. So far there have been no major problems with our new rommmate, Mike Myers, but I'm still not happy about it. Selfish, I know, but there it is. I don't want to share this house, and I particularly don't want to share Ray. This is not a healthy attitude, and I'm ashamed of myself for feeling this way, but I resent having another person in the house.

This will change with time. I'll get used to having Mike around, and then I'll feel silly for having been so narrow-minded. I already feel terrible just for having written it here in this journal ... on the SECOND PAGE, yet! I guess that what I'm most concerned about is a lack of privacy, a lack of time alone with Ray, and time alone together is important to our relationship. Especially now. Only time will tell if Mike interferes with that necessary time alone.

March 4, 1981
Wednesday a.m.

Sunny morning. Yesterday it was pouring rain, and frankly I wish it was raining again today ... it would better suit my mood. Still feeling down, although perhaps not as acutely as yesterday.

(A revision. I just took Smokey out for his morning run in the backyard, and although the sun is shining, there are also huge, black clouds rolling from the west. It makes for an interesting combination - sunny in the backyard, cloudy in the front yard. Half and half. Sorta like my mood today.)

Tonight is Ray's bowling night, but I'm not sure if I'm going to go ... after that awful drunken confrontation with Dave McK. & others last Friday night, I would be too embarrassed to face him at the bowling alley tonight. Maybe if I take a book with me and studiously avoid looking him in the eye ... I don't know. I can't "hide" forever. Sooner or later I'm going to have to take the plunge and face Dave, and Mike Ross, and Cathi, and Scott & Leslie ... all of Ray's friends who don't approve of me. Paranoid? Probably. It is clear that none of these people like me, and it's terrible because they all love Ray so much. They think I'm a freeloader, for one thing. For another, they're all a lot more gregarious & outgoing than I am, and whenever I'm around them (unless I've been drinking), I just clam up and hide behind my usual wall of reserve. They think I'm stuck-up, when in point of fact my self-esteem is piteously low. I'd give anything to be more like them, but it's so damnably impossible. I can never seem to loosen up.

March 5, 1981
Thursday a.m.

HUNGOVER. I went with Ray last night after all, and in spite of the crappy way I feel this morning, I'm glad I did. Dave and I had a chance to talk, and the air was cleared between us. I'm glad. We all got very drunk and I can barely remember what happened after we came home. I plan to spend the day attempting to recover.

My period started yesterday, incidentally. Damn?

Feeling a little better emotionally today. Obviously a lot of the depression I've felt the past couple of days was because my period was coming. Now that it's started I'm a little disappointed but it's nothing I can't handle. Last night Ray said that maybe we should wait a few months before we start a baby, mainly for financial reasons I think. I was drunk when he said it, and I took it was a personal affront, but in the sober light of day I can see the sense of it.


Pleasantly stoned. Cold bare feet. Beginning of a small headache. Old "Monkees" albums sitting on my lap ... transporting me back nearly fifteen years. Was I ever REALLY eight years old and in love with Michael Nesmith??

Who just pulled into the driveway ... ? Mike, I guess. Sigh. Wish Ray would get home.

March 6, 1981
Friday p.m.

Coffee nerves. I've been alone all day and have accomplished almost zilch ... I wrote a four-page letter to my pen pal Melinda, but that's about it. Sunshine. Wondering, as I always do on Friday afternoons, whether we'll be going out tonight. (And this week I'm also wondering if this weekend will be the fiasco last weekend was. God, I hope not.) Ray has been talking all week about going to the tavern tonight, but I'm not thrilled by the prospect ... it would undoubtedly involve Mike Ross, and I'm not ready to face him again. Asking for Dave McK.'s forgiveness was one thing, but I SLAPPED Mike, and I don't know if I could ask that self-satisfied creep to "forgive" me ...

Reheating last night's Chinese food. I just realized that I am ravenously hungry. It's 3:30 now and I know that Ray probably won't be home for hours.

Monday p.m.
March 9, 1981

A quick report of the weekend now past. On Friday night Mike came over, as expected, and I'm happy to say that all has been forgiven & forgotten. He came in the door and kissed me and apologized, and that was that. It wasn't even worth agonizing over. Anyway, the three of us went to Dave's Place for a few hours. Saturday was a wasted day. Ray didn't even get up until late in the afternoon, and I just sat around and read all day. Saturday night, Ray and I went with Cathi & Dave, Scott & Leslie to a friend's house at Pine Lake for a few hours of foosball and beer. As usual, the other girls huddled together in one room while I sat and watched the guys play, but this has been going on in my life for so long that it barely fazes me anymore. I think.

It's another one of those brilliantly sunny days, and I'm finally reconciling myself to the fact that spring is on the way. I think that I'm probably the only person in the world who doesn't like spring & who detests summer. My dislike of warm sunny weather grows every year. I'm probably being more pessimistic than I need to be, but summertime is always really bad for my self-esteem. I look terrible in the summer; consequently, I feel terrible; consequently, I have a generally rotten time. I know it sounds ridiculous, but there it is for all to see. Of course, though, every once in a while a really GOOD summer sneaks up on me and I have fun, in spite of myself. 1972 and 1975 were the best. 1978 and 1980 were the best adult summers so far, mostly because



I've picked up the house a little bit and done my hair, and have now taken a seat at the kitchen table, where I plan to scribble a couple of letters and drink beer and work on my "old" Bee Gees tape until my roommates come home.

Tuesday 5 p.m.
March 10, 1981

Tired. Just finished re-hanging the kitchen curtain and now I'm sipping Kool-Aid and waiting for Ray to come home. He didn't get home until 1 a.m. last night.

Saturday 2:30 p.m.

This has been a horrible week, and it just seems to be getting worse & worse. Ray has been late getting home every night - except of course for Wednesday, his bowling night - and by "late" I mean six to eight HOURS late, every single night. That means I've been spending a hell of a lot of time alone in this house, even more than usual, and it hasn't been any fun at all.   Smokey ran off once earlier this week, and then again this morning, and I've had the neighbors, the Kirkland police, King County Animal Control, and even Ray's parents all over my back because of it. I'm so sick of that damned dog, I could scream. Sometimes he can be the gentlest, most loving dog in the world, but lately he's been nothing but a big fat headache. I've got to watch him EVERY SINGLE MINUTE.

Saturday. Cloudy but warm ... sitting at the kitchen table, cool breeze on my back from the open door. Didn't even get out of bed until 1:30 today. Ray is working today ... or rather, he worked until 1:30, but judging from the way things have been going all week, he won't be home for hours. The house is a mess, but at this point I don't really give a damn. I wish I could just hop into a car and go for a long, long drive. I feel like a prisoner in this house: no car, no phone, no money.

Evening 9:00

A little better. Ray and I are spending the evening (so far) quietly, comfortably - and alone. I'm terrified that any minute someone's going to come pounding on the door and spoil it. A little wine, a little pot, the usual goofy Saturday night TV shows (Love Boat, Fantasy Island).

Now Ray has taken a walk down to Athen's Pizza to pick up some dinner.

March 17, 1981

Hungover and depressed. Ray, Mike Myers and I went to Hector's last night for dinner but we ended up staying in the bar the whole evening and never even made it to dinner. Ray and I came home and got into another drunken screaming match, with me doing all the screaming. Ray is so fucking undemonstrative, it drives me up a wall.


Tuesday 12:30
March 19, 1981

Alone. Mike is off helping a friend move, and Ray is working. Tired. "All My Children" on TV. The house is a mess, and so am I, but I don't have the energy to get up and move around. The depression I've been feeling lately has leveled off a bit, although there are still empty places in my life. Ray has begun to put subtle pressure on me to get a job. Last night it occurred to me that this is a very familiar situation ... Scott Wolf nagging at me to find work, Bobby doing the same last summer. Both times I fought it like hell, and now here I am repeating myself one more time.

Friday - same time
March 20, 1981

Officially the first day of spring. Big deal.

Alone again. Just got out of bed a little while ago ... stayed in bed later than usual in order to avoid Mike. Slightly peeved at him for poking his nose into personal matters last night. Getting irritated with his big mouth. Shades of Douglas H. Peffer !!!!!

Hot tea. Clean wet hair wrapped in a soggy towel. Sean Cudahay is scheming his way around Palmer Courtlandt on "AMC." I have a hell of a lot of things I'd like to say, but once again I find myself utterly devoid of motivation. I'm dissatisfied with my life, with Ray, with the world in general, and I should put it on paper but I can't. Ray is drinking too much. I'm turning into an irritable, complaining bitch. I spend too much time alone in this house, and then when I finally am around other people, I either drink too much and make a fool out of myself, or else I clam up and act like I hate everybody.

Saturday 3:30
March 21, 1981

Ray didn't come home last night until 2:40 a.m., and the only thing he gave me by way of explanation/apology was, "I couldn't get a ride." He was falling-down-drunk when he finally got home, and I was unusually nice about the whole thing - I helped him get out of his clothes and tucked him into bed - but inside I was seething. Maybe I still am. Today I've written a few letters and washed my hair, and that's about it. I also called Grandma V. and had a long, invigorating talk with her. I also called Randy a little while ago. He said that he might have a car tonight & may be able to take me out. I told Ray about it, and he got all bent out of shape - although not for the reasons you would expect. "If he can afford to take you out, why can't he afford to pay me back my $25?" he groused.

Ray told me all about these two women who tried to "pick him up" at the bar last night. Am I supposed to be impressed?

March 23, 1981

Monday afternoon ... raining and gray. This is the kind of day I like best.

Tuesday noon
March 24, 1981

Alone but not lonely. Mike took off a few minutes ago ("See ya later, Terri!") and now I'm sitting on the sofa with a 7-Up and "Ryan's Hope," wondering how to fill the empty hours between now and the time Ray gets home tonight. I spent hours cleaning the house yesterday, and except for a few odds & ends laying about and the unmade bed, the place is still neat and orderly. Work on my scrapbook? Write a few letters? Do some mending? Geez, what an exciting life I lead ...

Fifteen minutes later, and so much for solitude ... Mike is back, dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

8 p.m.

Alone again, only this time I am lonely. Geez, it sounds like I can't make up my mind, doesn't it? When people are here, I want them to go away ... then when I'm alone, I long for company. It's strictly a no-win situation.

I imagine "the boys" are out together somewhere, probably getting drunk, and I shouldn't expect to see them for hours still. Sigh. At least I have "Gone With The Wind" on TV tonight.

Spring 1981 is ...

Still unemployed after seven months, but beginning to think about job-hunting again ... dreaming about my old Dart, and longing for another car ... the price of postage stamps going up to 18 cents ... discovering "Suite For A Rainy Day" ... plants growing in the storage room ... potatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner ... looking forward to the mini-series "Masada," starting April 5 ... Mike Myers living here ... terrible cold ... hot coffee


1. Healthy baby - boy or girl!
2. Job!
3. Two kittens, Beannie & Cecil
4. Microwave oven
5. Cable TV
6. New pr. of jeans
7. Silver watch
8. "The Chronicles of Narnia" by C.S. Lewis
9. Sofa and loveseat
10. Paint job in bedroom
11. Navy blue skirt and vest set
12. Straw macramé wall hanging
13. Diamond stud earrings
14. Address/phone book
15. Subscription to "Soap Opera Digest"
16. Additional M. Parrish prints
17. Tabu bath oil and powder
18. Headboard for our bed
19. Portable radio/cassette player
20. New winter coat
21. Silver typewriter charm for my charm bracelet
22. Blender
23. Leather boots
24. Wicker planters
25. Turquoise ring
26. Glass chimes mobile
27. Peg Benatar, "In The Heat Of The Night"
28. Blondie, "Autoamerican"
29. Paint job for car
30. Salad bowl set
31. Wine glasses
32. Wicker magazine rack
33. Bedroom phone
34. Running shoes
35. Assorted fine gold chains (like Judy wears)
36. St. Bernard puppy
37. Brown velour towels
38. Album - "Sniff 'N The Tears"
39. Back brush
40. Big floor cushions
41. Piano
42. 35mm camera
43. Bathroom cabinet w/mirror
44. Fabric sculpture for baby's room
45. Studio portrait of Ray and I
46. Kitchen canisters (different looking)
47. Carpet remnants for car
48. Album - "New England'
49. Red silk blouse
50. Standard folk guitar
51. Hanging planter
52. Wooden towel rack
53. Vacuum cleaner
54. "The Mirror," Marlys Milhiser
55. Frames for pics of Dick & I
56. Long pastel nightgowns (10)
57. Desk in our bedroom
58, Drivers License renewed
59. Two large photo albums
60. Christmas pics 1980 developed
61. Dictionary
62. Rocking chair
63. Pictures for bathroom
64. Velveteen blazer
65. Cuckoo clock
66. White afghan from Grandma V.
67. Bell collars for Sammi & CeCe
68. Gold cross pendant
69. Silk pajamas
70. Long fingernails!
71. Boston fern
72. Personalized stationery
73. New bathrobe for Ray
74. Gerry Rafferty albums
75. Sofa cushions (a bunch)
76. Roses from Ray
77. New reclining armchair
78. Lots of new plants
79. Gold and pearl neckchain
80. Pearl "dot" earrings
81. Opal ring
82. Turquoise ring
83. Massaging showerhead
84. New ski jacket
85. African violets
86. Fireproof storage box (LARGE)
87. Letter from Carol Johnstone
88. Wicker cat bed
89. Address labels
90. Maternity slacks
91. Dress for my wedding
92. Big reception
93. Birth announcements
94. Baby book
95. Toaster oven

Friday a.m.
March 27, 1981

Sick. Woke up with a raw throat and a pounding headache.

March 30, 1981

Even more sick ... have spent the past two days in bed, and I feel like shit.

Someone shot President Reagan this morning ... some malfunctioning creep running around with a handgun. The President was shot in the left side and one of his lungs collapsed. He's out of surgery now and they expect him to recover. The Press Secretary, James Brady, was shot in the head, though, and is going to die probably. Everything else in the world seems to have come to a standstill, waiting for news.

Tuesday a.m.
March 31, 1981

Feeling a little better, but not much. I can hardly breathe and I can't stop sneezing. Sitting on my rumpled bed in my robe, choking down a cup of coffee. Mike is out in the kitchen making another horrible mess, but he's offered to clean the whole house while I spend one more day in bed so I guess I'll do just that. My hair is so dirty I could scream.

(Ooooh! They just blew up Anne Martin on All My Children!!!)

Things between Ray and I have not been so wonderful lately.

April 1, 1981

Early in the morning. Ray just left for work with Cathi, and rather than crawl back into the warmth and comfort of our bed, I have elected to brave the early morning chill with a cup of coffee and a page or two in my journal. (Steam rises from the coffee cup ... the stereo plays softly in the living room behind me. Mike is asleep in his room.)

I feel a tremendous need to write about the things that have been troubling me. Maybe in the quiet cold seclusion of the kitchen, I can now make some effort.

Last night was another lousy night. Ray and Mike went out grocery shopping late in the afternoon, and they didn't come home until nearly four hours late, in spite of Ray's promises to "come straight home." I gave him my usual frosty reception when they finally came stumbling in ... he said they "stopped for one pitcher," but I don't know. He seemed pretty unsteady for "one" pitcher. I said, "Honey, how come you have to come home drunk every night?" His answer? "What else is there to do?" That was such a slap in the face. Am I such a total pain to live with that he has to anesthetize himself every night before he comes home?? Of course he passed out on the sofa almost immediately, and it practically took a forklift to drag him down the hall to bed.

Randy called at 9:00, and that was the one and only highlight of my evening. It was so good, just to talk to somebody. God, I've been lonely lately. Ray never talks to me. I don't think he ever did. He leaves for work in the morning and he's gone all day ... then when he comes home in the evening, drunk, he sits out in the living room with Mike and watches TV. When he finally comes to bed he either crawls all over me or else he passes out - or both. (After a whole evening of barely speaking three intelligible words to me, he expects me to make love to him. Boom. Just like that.)

After I turned off the lights and went to bed last night, I spent an hour so laying awake, examining my feelings about Ray and about our relationship and about my life in general. Several facts emerged. I love Ray, but I'm not satisfied with the way things are between us. He's drinking too much, and lately he seems to have given up caring about it. Nothing is so important to him as that cold can of beer. He is slowly but surely self-destructing, and it's painful as hell to watch him. I don't understand him. Why is he doing it? And why do I hang on?

Another fact: he never talks to me. Not even frivolous, passing-the-time-of-day conversation. It reminds me of those lonely, horrible days last summer when I was living at Bobby's. I feel like a piece of furniture. A hot water bottle. A dishwasher. When there's no one else available, talk to Terri.

Lack of money and lack of transportation forced us to stay home all weekend. Mike was gone on a fishing trip so that left the two of us alone. At first I was deliriously happy about the situation, until it became clear that Ray was bored and frustrated and felt "cooped up" in the house with me. His main concern was keeping himself in beer. This would have been an excellent opportunity for us to sit down and have a good, air-clearing heart to heart, but instead he drank himself into a stupor and I had my usual task of half-carrying, half-dragging him down the hall to bed at midnight.

Another fact: I am jealous as hell of Mike. I was thinking about this the other day while reading a diary I'd written at age eleven ... back in the days when I would be gut-wrenchingly jealous if Sandy  played with Patty, or Anita played with Shannon, and I was left out in the cold. I couldn't stand being the third wheel. I guess I still can't. Mike is ALWAYS here, it seems, and he totally monopolizes Ray's time. I sit on the sofa and listen to the two of them chattering animatedly in the kitchen, and it hurts. Ray doesn't talk to me that way. I'm jealous and resentful of the time & attention Ray gives Mike. At times like that I feel as though I don't even exist.

They go out and do the grocery shopping without even consulting me, and then the only two items I specifically asked them to pick up were the two items they "forgot" ...

God, I sound like a baby. Imagine feeling jealous of your boyfriend's buddy. I should be shot. Or maybe Mike should be.

Another thought: my period is due today, but so far I haven't been feeling any of the usual, familiar "warning signals" ... which of course makes me wonder again if I could be pregnant. It's a possibility, but not a possibility that I intend to regard seriously unless another week goes by. Like everything else, this is something that Ray and I haven't discussed in weeks and weeks. His last official comment on the possibility was, "If it happens, it happens." Not exactly a vow of support (emotional or otherwise), but not exactly a plea for birth control, either. At this point I have no idea how he feels about it. A couple of months ago he was quite adamant about wanting me to get pregnant - eager, almost. Now I don't know. For that matter, I'm not even sure how I feel about it. If I thought for a minute that having a baby would help straighten Ray out and would get our relationship back on firmer ground, then I would probably go ahead and do it. It's the alternative that scares me. What if I become pregnant, and things between Ray and I continue to be as crummy as they are now? I wonder who would suffer the most?

I'm just going to keep my big mouth shut about this until I know for sure, at least. No sense prophesying gloom and doom until there's a reason. I've become such a fatalist anymore; always expecting the worst.

Thursday afternoon
April 2, 1981

My period still hasn't started, and already I'm beginning to act stupid about it.

April 5, 1981

Ray and Mike are repairing the bathroom, and I'm sitting here in the kitchen feeling cranky and irritable. EVERYTHING Mike says or does drives me right straight up a wall, and I don't know why. Maybe it's his attitude toward women. He has zero respect for them, and I do mean zero. His philosophy (as expressed this morning) is "Vip it in, vip it out, vipe it off and vamoose." Honest to God, that's what he said. I could have slapped him.

Things between Ray and I have improved somewhat. I think that I was just in a particularly rotten mood when I wrote my last couple of journal entries. Of course he talks to me. It's just that he doesn't talk to me the way Scott used to, and I miss that. I don't mean that my relationship with Scott was "better" than the one I have now with Ray ... it was just different. It's hard to keep myself from comparing the two, and sometimes I really miss certain aspects of my relationship with Scott. I miss conversation. Sometimes Scott used to drive me right up the wall with his incessant chatter. I've never in my life known anyone who loved to talk as much as he did. Once he got started, the only thing that would shut him up was unconsciousness! Sometimes when I talk to Randy, he reminds me so much of Scott that it hurts.

In all fairness to Ray, though, there are so many qualities in him - and in our relationship - that I never had with Scott. Ray has a sensitivity and gentleness that Scott never had. Scott was self-assured to the point of arrogance; Ray has a more humble demeanor. But I suppose the most important difference between them is that Ray is willing to make a commitment, complete with marriage, and kids, and all that goes along with. Scott always warned me not to expect anything permanent - especially children - because he'd already gone that route and he didn't want to do it again. In fact he threatened vasectomy on a regular basis, which used to just rip me apart. He'd already had two kids, and that was enough as far as he was concerned. Never mind the fact that I was twenty years old and had never been married or had children, and I was desperately in love with him and wanted to have a family with him.

April 14, 1980
Tuesday night
in the bedroom

Over a week later ... guess I must have lost my train of thought.

Things are once again almost ridiculously screwed. Impression of the hour: Ray's parents DON'T like me, because they think I'm a freeloader. (Hoo! Ray's father just knocked on the bedroom door ... he wanted to have a quick "heart to heart." GULP. More about all of this later -- hopefully.)

April 22, 1981

Morning ... I just woke up, as a matter of fact. Mike is out in the living room, hollering on the telephone, which is what woke me up. He has the world's loudest voice, I swear. I'm still struggling to accept him living here with us, but it sure as hell ain't EASY. We've already had a couple of major blow-outs, and every time that happens, Ray finds himself caught in the middle. Luckily, he seems more willing to take my part. Otherwise I would feel completely outnumbered and betrayed.

My period still hasn't started. I looked at a calendar and figured that the last regular period started March 4th, which would at this moment make me about a month pregnant ... if I am. Also: one week from today my second period is due to start, technically. So if it doesn't start, that means I've missed two periods in a row.

There's a lot more I'd like to add, but I don't really feel motivated enough to write this morning. Maybe after a cup of coffee.

A little later

Yes, a cup of coffee helped. It has cleared away the last fuzzy remnants of last night's dreams (I killed Danny Kent - ???) and maybe down I can jot down a few coherent thoughts.

(And then when she gets her head together enough to write something, she doesn't write anything. Typical.)

Friday night
April 24, 1981

Mike and his girlfriend Ann are preparing to leave for a movie ... Ray and I are staying home, I think? (Although Mike is loaning us his car for the evening.) Steve and Beth Klein are going to stop by shortly; they're interested in buying Ray's sofa. Feeling slightly happier than usual, but it's nothing to shout about. Underneath it all I'm still the depressed, stagnant person I always am anymore. Even the idea of possibly (probably) being pregnant isn't giving me much cause for joy, the way it might have a few months ago. Ray refuses to even talk about it unless I push the issue, and when we do talk about it, he acts so damned down-in-the-mouth about the whole thing that I feel positively guilty for having brought it up. What am I supposed to do, though? I've got to talk to somebody about this. I'm not even sure if I am pregnant, for that matter, but it would sure help to have someone to discuss the possibility with. I'm dying to talk to Mom, but until I resolve things with Ray I won't be able to carry the news to anyone else, including my mother.

Monday night 7 p.m.
April 27, 1981

Sipping a cup of freshly-brewed coffee ... old "MASH" re-run on TV ... living room curtains are still open, revealing the end of another cloudy, gray, end-of-April day. Ray just woke up from a late afternoon nap and is sitting, cigarette in hand and hair still mussed from sleep, on the sofa opposite me. (We'll be losing this sofa soon, dammit. The Kleins are definitely buying it. Crud: I'm sure going to miss it. But we need the money.)

The last couple of days have been almost unbelievably depressing. I don't know whether I've just become too sensitive or whether Ray has become less so - or a combination of both - but it seems as though lately he hardly notices if I'm in the same room with him. I have to ASK for a hug or a kiss, and I've completely stopped saying "I love you" because it seems like I'm the only one who says it anymore. Once in a while, when I can't stand it anymore, I ask him "Do you love me?" and he'll always nod and mumble an assent, but it's not the same thing as being told spontaneously, and FREQUENTLY. The only thing is: I can't remember whether he has always been like this, or whether I'm just imagining this new problem? Or whether I'm just beginning to notice that Ray isn't as openly demonstrative as I would like? I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's all tied in with my same old problems of fear and insecurity ... my constant need for reassurance. If he doesn't SAY "I love you," I assume that he doesn't love me. I'm always afraid that I'm going to be deserted again.

Her father "deserted" her when she was three years old.
Scott W..
It must never happen again.

As for being maybe-pregnant ... it's becoming less and less a matter of "maybe" and more "probably." I have now (just barely) missed two periods. I can't bear to even LOOK at a can of beer, much less DRINK it, and I only get one-third of the way through a cigarette before it makes me violently nauseous. On Saturday morning, Mike's girlfriend Ann accidentally interrupted me throwing up in the bathroom, and in a moment of weakness I broke down and told her. Normally she would be the last person on earth I would confide in about something like this, but I'm daily becoming more and more filled with curiousity and speculation, and I have to share it with somebody ...

I figure I'm probably going to have to take a pregnancy test pretty quick, if only to confirm what I've already accepted as fact. I hate to bring it up with Ray, though. I'm scared! Who knows what his reaction will be. Prenatal care isn't going to be cheap, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. I'm saddling him with an awesome amount of responsibility, and I'm wondering how he's going to feel about it. I have no doubt he will love this child. But will love alone suffice?

Worries, worries. At this point it doesn't even seem real. Maybe in another couple of months or so, when things start happening to my body, it will seem more real than it does now.

April 28, 1981

The next day. Holed-up in my bedroom like a squirrel in a cage ... feeling restless, but at the same time too devoid of energy to DO anything. Cloudy, gray day. "All My Children" on TV. Mike is asleep in the room next to mine. Working on my second mug of coffee ... crumbs from my cheese sandwich on the rumpled sheets.

Woke up feeling crampy this morning. This is a concern which needs to be voiced: if I'm pregnant, how come I've been having these continual, menstrual-like cramps for the past month & a half?

April 30, 1981
Thursday 3:30

Listening to a tape of old Monkees music that I put together earlier today. The thought just occurred to me that this music is going to seem very, very old to my kid ... it will probably seem utterly ridiculous. For some reason this is a vaguely depressing thought.

Drinking a beer, although I know I really shouldn't be. Sorry, Jesse.

I owe pen pal letters to: Jaime Trumbo, Bonita Stognief, Amanda Prothero, Georgia Rodriguez, Nancie Goldberg, Arlene Rodriguez, Linda Lynch, Michele Manzo, Margie Blank, Susan Rich, Tammy Cooper, Roger Whitley

May 2, 1981
Saturday night

Saturday night ... sitting on the living room floor with my second can of 7-Up and "Love Boat" on TV ... Ray is perched on the edge of the wicker chair, restless and agitated. Mike and Ann are making love in the next room -- I can hear them talking and laughing. Burned out. Ray and I went to The Town Crier for a few hours last night with Scott and Leslie. The three of them were high on acid, but I didn't even smoke cigarettes. Today I've been tired. This will probably be an early evening for me. My body seems to be undergoing a few changes, and I'm tired a LOT lately. I'm still having those bothersome, period-like cramps and they have me worried, but I plan to schedule a doctor's appointment this coming week and then maybe I'll know exactly what's going on.

Things are definitely better between Ray and I these days, anyhow. We've talked a few times about me being pregnant, but haven't yet made any plans or decisions. It still seems so unreal and far-off in the future, and I feel no need to jump into anything right away. We've been getting along so well lately, I hate to rock the boat.

Mike & Ann have now left for some party, but to my surprise and delight Ray turned down their invitation to go along and chose to stay home w/me instead.

May 8, 1981
Friday afternoon

Evening ... wondering where Ray is. It's 7:00 now and he hasn't even called yet. Sitting on the unmade bed.

Tuesday noon
May 26, 1981

JOURNAL!! I'm so ashamed ... it's been weeks & weeks since I've scribbled so much as one word in you. Several important changes have taken place recently, but I've just been too distracted, or too lazy - or something - to write. I'll try to catch up a bit now.

Tuesday noon ... sitting, cross-legged, on the sofa with a cup of instant coffee (bleccch) and "AMC" on the tube. Sunny day, but a little cool. I've got the kitchen door open in an effort to clear out the smoke I created while cooking my breakfast ... hot cakes and sausage, which were delicious. It was the first bona fide meal that I've eaten in two days. Lately my appetite has dwindled away to practically nothing, which I can't figure out. Isn't a woman's appetite supposed to increase during pregnancy? With me it's just the opposite: I have to force myself to eat. To make it even more complicated, my tastes have undergone a radical change, and foods that I usually love now turn my stomach. I crave fresh, cold foods ... salads, fruit, cottage cheese, stuff like that. Meat, or anything greasy or spicy, is generally out of the question.

There is no doubt whatsoever in my mind that I am pregnant. I still have that remote, far-off-in-the-future feeling about it, to a degree, but at the same time it's becoming more & more a reality. Happily, things have never been better between Ray and I. We went through that awful, uncomfortable period of non-communication a couple of months ago, but that's all over with. I'm not sure, but I think my pregnancy has something to do with it. Somehow, we seem to be closer and more in tune with each other than ever before. We've had The Big Discussion -- the one where everything was brought out into the open, we both faced the fact that I'm pregnant and admitted our real feelings about the situation. To my immense, unspeakable relief and joy, Ray told me that he is happy about me having his baby. And he was sincere. It was a beautiful and special moment.

Practically everybody in the world knows about it, including - I think? - Ray's parents. Gulp. Word has leaked out at Western Kraft, and I guess that Ray's co-workers have been giving him a lot of good-natured ribbing about becoming a "Daddy." I called my mother and told her, and just as I predicted she was thrilled.

Off the subject of my pregnancy for a minute: another wonderful change is that I now have a car again!!!!!! Ray bought it a couple weeks ago from a guy at work - it's a '67 Dodge Coronet - and even though it looks every inch a fourteen year old car, in my eyes it's the most beautiful hunk of machinery in the world. After months and months of longing for a car, it's finally happened.

Saturday noon
May 30, 1981

I've made a "sort-of" resolution ... doomed to fail, no doubt, but resolved nonetheless ... throughout the rest of my pregnancy, I want to be consistent about writing in my journal. Every day, if possible, or at least every other day. I know I've made similar resolutions in the past, and sometimes it's taken hold and sometimes it hasn't ... this time, though, I think that it's more important than ever that I keep an accurate record of my life and feelings.

Saturday morning - a cool, overcast day - a relief from the scorchingly hot weather we had all week. I just crawled out of bed after a night of weird, twisted dreams. (A plane crash, en route from Hawaii.) Ray is working. He called me last night at 12:30 a.m. from Dave's Place, drunk as a skunk, and insisted that I drive all the way down there and pick him up. I was mad as hell but I didn't really have a choice unless I wanted him to spend the night at the tavern. I hate driving alone that late at night: especially on the long, curving, deserted roads between here & Dave's. He passed out in the car before I even got him home: it took super-human effort to get his clothes off and drag him in to bed.

I'm not angry about it anymore, but I hope this doesn't become a regular thing.

Sitting on the sofa with a cup of herbal tea, watching Don McLean on "American Bandstand." Still in my bathrobe. No plans for the day, nor, for that matter, for the rest of the weekend. Mike is gone for a couple of days, thank God.


Violent rainstorm changing to hesitant sunlight. Pepperoni pizza in the oven, baking. Watching out the window for him to come home.

June 1, 1981
Monday night

Dinner tonight is a joint effort: Ray put together one of his meatloaves stuffed with cheese, and I've fixed my famous au gratin potatoes. Everything is in the oven and wonderful smells are emanating from the kitchen. I'm ravenous, for a change. According to the book, I'm about twelve weeks along, and the nausea is supposed to stop. I wonder if that means my appetite will return to normal too? I hope so. I've completely quit smoking, and don't intend to start again after the baby is born. Hopefully I'll stay away from alcohol, too. But it would be nice to have my appetite back to normal again.

June 3, 1981
Wednesday night

Nothin' much to say, but I thought I'd scribble a couple of words anyway. Cloudy evening, raining gently. Ray has gone to make a "burger run" to McDonald's; I'm sitting at the kitchen table with cup of coffee #2, listening to a tape I made the other day ("Mistral Wind" by Heart is on now). They've zapped our water again, for the second day in a row. Ray is going to surreptitiously turn it back on after dark, but in the meantime there's a stack of dirty dishes a mile high sitting on the kitchen counter, and I'm suffering with what could possibly be the world's dirtiest head of hair. Yuck. Not really hungry, but I suppose a Big Mac is better than nothing.

My energy level today has been non-existent. Ray took the car to work with him, and I lay on the sofa all day, watching soap operas, nursing the beginning of a sore throat.

Tomorrow I've got to go down to Grandma and Grandpa's for a couple of days. I'm not exactly looking forward to it, but it shouldn't be all that bad. Grandma has gone to Victoria for her college reunion, and she wants me to stay with Grandpa while she's away. I figure I owe it to them for all the times I've let them down the past few years -- two missed Christmases, for one thing.

June 4, 1981
Thursday morning

Mike just dropped by with Ann's brother ... long enough to pick up some things from his room and split. He's moving out this weekend, I think: in the meantime he's screwed Ray over for a LOT of money, including rent, and Ray is in such a financial bind that we're living without running water because we can't afford to pay the water bill.

June 11, 1981
Thursday afternoon

Ray has the car today, and I've spent the day cleaning house and listening to music. Mike is now completely moved out of the house - except for his washing machine and his wicker chair - and the atmosphere around this house is more relaxed and comfortable than it's been in three months.

I'm pregnant!  Big surprise, huh? It has been absolutely & positively confirmed, and now the process of accepting the reality of it begins. I saw Dr. Pheifer on Monday afternoon, had all the tests and the full examination, and he says that I'm due December 9th. He also used a special stethoscope that allowed me to hear the baby's heartbeat inside of me, which was incredible ... it sounded like it was coming from another galaxy ... but it was jolting proof that there is actually a living PERSON growing inside of me!! And while I may not be feeling particularly maternal just yet, it's still an almost mystical feeling, knowing that Ray and I created it.

Ray has been beautiful about it. He picked me up on Monday after my appointment, and he was visibly moved when I told him it was for "real," and that I'd heard the baby's heartbeat. He called it "the happiest day of his life." We went to Taco Time for a quick lunch, and then drove to Randy and Marcie Weaver's house to share our good news with them. They weren't home, so we walked down to the slough, where we fed sunflower seeds to the ducks and picked buttercups and talked about the baby.

9 p.m.

Ray was home for about ten seconds before dashing back out, to have a few belated birthday drinks with his brother Don. So I'm alone.


Why am I afraid that I won't love this baby if it's not attractive? I'm afraid of having an ugly baby? God. How shallow of me.

Sunday night

June 14, 1981

A quick word after another lovely, lazy Sunday ... thinking about the baby. I feel an occasional twinge of impatience; another six months loom ahead. An eternity. So many worries. Does everyone feel like this?


Saturday night
June 20, 1981

Ray is asleep and snoring gently on the sofa next to me, covered with the afghan, his fist pressed tightly against one cheek. Right now he looks about six years old. It's only 9:00 but he's been fast asleep for an hour already; last night was another one of "those" nights when he didn't come stumbling in until way past midnight, so he's wiped out tonight.

I've been "blue" the last few days. Nothing I can put my finger on - just a basic case of the blues. Down in the dumps, knowing that none of Ray's friends and almost none of his relatives approve of me having this baby. They all think I'm ruining Ray's life. I hate to go anywhere with him anymore; even Dave's Place makes me feel unwanted.

Is Ray going to ask me to marry him? Ever?  Sort of.

Who is this person I'm carrying around inside of me?  Your future best friend.

Is Jesus coming back to Earth on the 28th??  No  ...  but He asked for a raincheck.

Sunday afternoon
June 21, 1981

The next day. (My God ... you mean I'm actually writing something in my journal two days in a row??) The first official day of summer, but the same cloudy gray weather we've had all month. (Which of course has made me very happy.) This is also Father's Day - technically, Ray's first! The car is temporarily out of order, as is the tellyphone, so we're sorta cut off from the rest of the world. I'm hoping that later on Ray will get the car running so I can get to a phone booth and give Dad a call. I sent him a letter a few days ago, telling him he's going to be a "grandpa," and he's probably received it by now: I'm anxious to find out how he feels about it. He's probably going to be thrilled, and considering all the negativity I've had to deal with lately, a little optimism would be welcome.

Ray is washing his hair in the sink; Ted Nugent is on the stereo, belting out "Just What The Doctor Ordered." I'm sitting at the kitchen table CAUTIOUSLY drinking a beer. In the past two or three months I've practically given up drinking altogether. Now that the morning sickness has begun to let up a bit, I find that I'm able to tolerate



Tuesday morning
June 25, 1981

Trying to get my "internal motor" started ... I've been so lethargic lately. Can usually barely crawl out of bed before noon. I've got a big pot of coffee brewing ... "Ryan's Hope" on TV (are they going to let Kimberly Harris die?) ... sitting in the "new" armchair that Dad brought over for Ray on Sunday.

Sunday was fun. It's a very rare occasion when someone drives all the way over the Eastside to see me, so it was a special treat. Dad took us out for Chinese food, and we talked happily about the baby, among other things. Dad is just as excited & happy about it as I knew he would be.

Next weekend I get my kittens! Two of them!

When Dad left, Ray and I sat up in the kitchen until midnight. Monday - yesterday - I felt predictably awful and so did Ray; he ended up staying home from work. We barbecued steaks for dinner and fell asleep around 9:00.

And thus passeth the days ... one at a time. December is a million miles away.

Have switched preferences: I'm beginning to favor the name "Stacie" for a girl.

Friday night
July 3, 1981

A quiet, peaceful summer evening ... growing dark outside but all the windows and doors are still open, a cool breeze is blowing through the living room. Ray has run over to see Scott & Leslie; I'm watching "Obsession" (Cliff Robertson, Genevieve Bujold), sipping an orange soda. Firecrackers going off in the distance.

My kittens, hidden and sleeping under the armchair beneath me, are Samantha ("Sammi" for short) and Cecil ("Ce Ce"). I'm already nuts about them. I love to watch them, and I envy them their ceaseless energy. We've had a streak of wickedly hot and stuffy days, and my own energy level is nonexistent. Today it was all I could do to wash the dishes.

July 4, 1981
Saturday afternoon

The Fourth of July, and a day so pleasant - so far - that it merits mention. Ray is out in the carport, working on the broken lawnmower; it's warm and brilliantly sunny today. I've spent the past hour vacuuming the whole house with the vacuum cleaner we borrowed from Cathi: now I'm taking a break. Sitting in the armchair directly in front of the electric fan, watching Ray out the window. (Looks like he finally got it started.) Bob Seger on the stereo, "Against The Wind" ... takes me back to last year. The smell of freshly mown grass wafting through the open window. Cecil is sitting beside me in the chair, trying to get my attention by swatting at my pen. Right now I feel almost completely happy. I'm enjoying summer 1981.

(One year ago right now I was passed out cold in my bed. Remember fat, disgusting Jerry S. from the office???)

July 6, 1981
Monday noon

Watching "All My Children" and drinking a cup of coffee. I just got out of bed. It's cloudy and raining again, which made it easier to stay in bed (and that much more difficult to get up).

Saturday night - the Fourth - was spent at Dave & Cathi's house, along with Scott & Leslie, shooting off fireworks and playing poker. While we were there, I had ANOTHER accident - I stepped on something sharp, a piece of glass I think, and severely gouged my right foot. I've got it bandaged and elevated, and I'm trying to stay off it as much as possible. It hurts like hell but there isn't much else I can do about it. At least Ray is finally beginning to believe me when I tell him I'm accident-prone!

Wash & condition hair
Start laundry
Scour tub
Pick up living room
Lunch? (fried tatoes and warmed over roast?)

July 22, 1981

A summer evening ... sitting on the sofa in new maternity clothes and bare feet, sipping my customary orange soda. The news is winding down to a close on TV: Ray is out in the carport, clearing out all the junk and straightening things up. He's burning scrap paper in the Webber, and I can smell the acrid smoke drifting in through the empty windows. An overcast - but warm & stuffy - evening.

My life is extremely routine these days ... boring, in fact. A couple weeks ago I got my income tax refund, $313, and for a while there was money in my pocket and gas in the car and my days were full. The money is gone now, and we're back to being dirt poor. Our water has been shut off again, which would make life intolerable were it not for Ray's skill at sneaking out to the meter after dark with his tools & turning the water back on in the evening: long enough to get the dishes and laundry done, take a shower and wash my hair, flush the toilet, and then fill up enough jars and containers with fresh water to get me through the next day. I never realized how much I take our modern conveniences for granted!

Sammi and CeCe are hunched over their yellow plastic dish, wolfing down their supper of Kitten Chow and milk. In the almost-month since we added them to our household, they've nearly doubled in size. They have also developed very distinct personalities. I spend so much time with them around the house every day, they seem like little "people" to me. I take them outside in the backyard with me in the afternoons; I sit at the picnic table and read, while they run and play at my feet. As long as they're within the confines of their own house or yard, they're utterly fearless. If the big cat next door happens to stroll through the carport, though, they raise their little backs and hiss at the intruder, backing up at the same time & looking over their shoulders to make sure I'm standing nearby. (I'm their "mama.")

Been very depressed lately - guilty, more than anything else - about our financial situation. Ray is breaking his back to make sure our bills are paid and that we've got food to eat, but somehow there never seems to be enough. We're always in debt somewhere. And here I am, unemployed and pregnant and contributing exactly zilch to the situation. I've felt bad about this before, certainly, but lately the guilt pangs are more pervasive and troublesome than ever before. Every day I become more pregnant: maybe that's what is making it so difficult for me to enjoy a clear conscience. Lately I've been wondering if I'm doing the right thing, or if Ray's family and friends are right about me. Should I be having this baby? We're barely making ends meet now as it is: what can we expect, come December? Am I ruining Ray's life? My own? The baby's?

Our relationship right now is very good, very solid. Sometimes we talk about money, or about the baby and what a financial strain he may be, but for the most part we're united in our (blind? naive?) optimism. We're thinking about getting married next month. It won't be any big deal - probably just slipping off some weekend, finding a justice of the peace or whatever. Not exactly the church-and-white-lace wedding of my girlhood dreams, but as I've gotten older, some things have lessened in importance. Have I said that before? It's true. The important thing is marrying Ray. I don't care where, or how.

I do want a nice, big reception, though - maybe a month or two later. Sometime in the fall. Lots of friends and family and champagne and food and music.

There's more I would like to write about, but I'm going to lay back and RELAX (after such an exciting & exhausting day, ha ha).

Summer 1981

July 23, 1981
Thursday a.m.

Almost noon ... just crawled out of bed. Headachy from a morning full of strange, jumbled-together dreams. I dreamed that I had my baby, a daughter, but she was born prematurely and wasn't expected to live. I asked the doctors if I could see her, and they opened the door to a small room, where she lay in her crib. I looked at her and said "Ohhh ... she's so pretty ." She had big, liquid-blue eyes and a lot of straight, coppery brown hair. All I wanted to do was run over and pick her up in my arms; instead, the doctors handed me a list of "infant burial options."  Accck.

I just let the "monkeys" outta the bathroom, where they've apparently been "trapped" all morning ... they marched out, all stiff-backed and indignant. How dare I imprison them??

I'm so afraid of losing this baby. Sometimes I completely stop planning ahead because I'm so certain I'm not going to carry her to term. Our stunted finances lately have prevented me from eating all the good, healthy foods I should be eating. The other day I had two biscuits with honey and a glass of milk - for the entire day. That was it. Even now, the fridge is nearly empty, and I'm drinking a cup of (forbidden) coffee. All these things added together make me so afraid at times ...

God. Do all pregnant women worry this much??? One minute I'm worried that I may be ruining a lot of lives by having this baby in the first place, the next minute I'm worried about whether she'll be healthy and normal.

(Today the baby is "she" ... notice? Undoubtedly because of the dream I had. This morning I feel very close to her, in spite of all the worries.)

THE THING THAT GIVES ME HOPE is that I've been feeling the baby moving this past week ... and what an odd sensation that is! The first time it happened I didn't really know what was going on. I thought I was miscarrying. Since then, it's been happening more regularly, and each time I feel her move, it helps reassure me that maybe everything is OK after all. Whoever compared it to "butterfly wings," anyway??? This baby KICKS, and none too gently, either!!

(Got a lap-full of kittens.)

G.H. is almost over ... gonna put my dirty hair into pigtails ... change my shirt ... fix something to eat (I'm starved) ... make the bed ... pick up the kitchen & living room ... check the mail.

Sammi; gregarious, rambunctious, naughty
CeCe: temperamental, wary of strangers


Evening (8:00) and Ray isn't home yet. Today was payday and he took the car with him this morning, so I sorta expected him to be later than usual. Watching "Mork & Mindy," thinking. Hungry. Waiting for my bottom-of-the-refrigerator dinner to finish cooking - baked potato, two plain hot dogs, canned green beans.

The baby has been moving around inside of me all day, and so she has seemed very close and very real.

July 24, 1981
Friday morning

Cup of coffee - hair in rollers - face freshly made-up, early for a change. "Family Feud" on TV. Watching out the window for the Viacom people to come install our new cable TV service: we're getting Home Box Office, too, which I'm excited about. (As if I don't watch enough television every day as it is.)

I had a rough night last night. Ray and I had pepperoni and meatball sandwiches for dinner, and I was awake most of the night with incredible heartburn. Then when I did fall asleep, I had more of those weird, twisted dreams. (I was looking at secondhand maternity clothes at Value Village. In a back room of the store they gave me a drug that turned me into an eight foot tall monster, and I lost my memory for several hours. When I came to, the whole store had been rearranged and Ray had gone home with some other women. I stalked out of the store, threatening the manager with a lawsuit. ???????????)

I haven't had The Moving Dream in a little while ... the one where, for one reason or another, I'm being forced to move out of my home, usually to someplace I hate. That dream always disturbs the hell out of me, and I don't miss it. Maybe I've stopped having it because I've finally found a real "home" ... a place where I feel established and secure and comfortable. Sheryl and Mike have both come and gone, and now it's just Ray and I living here, and I LOVE that.

The last time I allowed myself to feel that way about a place was the apartment I shared with Scott W., and look what happened - I was betrayed. But not this time. I just know it. I trust Ray, and I believe in our relationship. This is it, folks ... "for keeps."

Oh yes - I also had another "baby dream" last night, of sorts. I walked out to my car and there was a baby with blonde hair and a yellow sleeper, hanging from the window on the drivers side. Not hanging from the neck - just sort of suspended upright. At first I thought it was dead, but then I picked it up and it was warm and heavy and had pink cheeks.


A little past eight and Ray isn't home yet. He was going to come home early and spend the evening with me, but he has obviously changed his mind. I'm bored and lonely. And pissed.

More Evening:

Good Lord. Talk about a spoiled, pouty BRAT ... that's exactly what I sound like, isn't it? How embarrassing. Ray is home, and everything is hunky-dory.

Saturday afternoon
July 25, 1981

Slow, easy day ... Ray and I are sitting in the living room, surrounded by newspapers, watching Pro Bowling on one of our new cable TV channels. Hot and sunny outside. Lazy. No special plans for this morning, or the rest of the weekend, for that matter.

Monday morning
July 27, 1981

OK. Now my dreams are getting TOO bizarre. Last night I dreamed I was taking care of two babies, but suddenly they turned into kittens and I accidentally drowned them. Dave and Cathi, Scott and Leslie and my mother were all there, yelling at me and berating me for being a lousy, irresponsible mother.

Tuesday morning
July 28, 1981

A blessedly welcome break in the heat this morning ... the sky is clouded over, and the cooler air feels wonderful. Having a cup of coffee; heating up a bunch of fried potatoes and leftover steak; watching Senaca & Rae haggle over who will raise Kimberly's baby. Today will be another average, routine day of light housework, soap operas, talking to the "monkeys," feeling the baby kick, scribbling things in my journal. Almost time to buy a new journal, isn't it? I was hoping that one book would cover my entire pregnancy, but I guess not: instead, one will cover the beginning of the pregnancy, and another book will cover the latter months and the actual birth. (The actual birth???? Gulp.)


Anxiety, if I think about it at all. At this point the whole business of labor seems as remote and far away as the baby itself. When I do think about childbirth and try to imagine what it will be like, I think of waves & waves of awful pain in the middle of the night. Doctors and nurses milling around in surgical clothes and masks. Lots of shiny metallic things clanking, and paper rustling, and Ray hovering somewhere nearby. But mainly - the pain. I have such a low pain threshold. Is it really as bad as they say?? I don't know how I'll be able to stand it. I could NEVER go in for natural childbirth, in spite of all the so-called advantages. I'm afraid I'll have to insist on whatever painkillers they'll give me - and as much of it as possible.

Ray wants to be in the delivery room with me. I'm not sure what his exact function will be, other than support and encouragement, but at least he'll have the thrill of seeing his child being born. It gives me a good feeling, knowing that he wants to be there. My father was aghast when he heard about it.

Wednesday afternoon
July 29, 1981

Trying to write with my lap full of kittens ... no easy task, since Sammi keeps swatting at my pen.

Had a bad scare last night -- felt a few sharp pains in my abdomen, and was sure that I was losing the baby.

Friday evening 8:00
July 31, 1981

The last day of July. Balmy, pleasant evening ... sitting in front of the fan, waiting for Ray to come back from a quick run to the store. We're roasting game hens on the Webber for dinner, and I'm trying to work up an appetite. "Benson" on TV. Ray will probably want to watch that ridiculous "Kingdom of the Spiders" tonight: I'll read or something. He has to work tomorrow, sadly enough, so we won't have another long lazy weekend together.

The house is neat, clean and orderly; the freezer is full; a load of laundry is swirling around in the washer.

Still feeling cramp and achy in my pelvic area. The past couple days have been worse than usual, and I'm worried. Hang in there, Baby. He/she is still kicking regularly, and I guess that's a good sign.

Thursday early evening
August 6, 1981

Swelteringly hot summer evening. I have strategically placed myself in front of the fan, with my hair in a ponytail and the cuffs of my pants rolled up around my knees.


Friday morning 7 a.m.
August 7, 1981

Early morning. Ray accidentally slept through his alarm, so I had to crawl out of bed and drive him to work. I'm tired. Last night it was so damned hot & stuffy that I barely got three hours' sleep, probably. I tried going back to bed when I got home a little while ago, but with no luck. Now I'm sitting in the living room with my as yet untouched first cup of coffee ... "Good Morning America" ... thinking about getting all the housework done early, before it gets too hot. It's supposed to get up into the 90's again today. Crud.

Today I'm going to bring this final black journal to a close. Last night I bought a new, blue spiral-bound notebook, and I'm itching to get started with it. So much is going to happen within its pages.

Summer 1981 is:

Talking to my "people," Sammi & Cecil ... no running water for days at a time ... Joe Kelly and Heather Webber on "General Hospital" ... spending my income tax refund on maternity clothes and headbands ... orange soda ... toffee ice cream bars ... Ray's fireworks on the Fourth of July ... cloudy, overcast weather ... no telephone ... Brad Vernon & Katrina Karr on "One Life To Live" ... my T-shirt: "I'm Not Fat, I'm Pregnant" ... Randy and Marcie's party, and weaving our way home at six in the ayem ... putting too much soap in the coffeemaker, and drinking Palmolive-flavored MJB for days ... the Royal Wedding ... flea bites ... little kids on the block coming over to look at my kittens ... wearing Ray's pants ... potato salad ... Alpha Bits ... "The Breakup Song," by The Greg Kihn Band ... new photo albums ... worrying about food stamps & the wrath of Mike Myers ... wondering where Randy W. is hiding ... putting the houseplants up where the kittens can't reach them ... Rainier beer ... wedding plans ...


I've stopped worrying so obsessively about money & finances all the time. We're not rich, by any means, and we still can't afford to pay the water bill or have the phone turned back on or fix the brakes on the car ... but at least we have food in the fridge, and gas in the car, and a little spending money. That's right now, anyway. Things are going to get really tight after the baby is born, and I'm not sure how we're going to manage, but something - intuition? blind faith? naiveté? - tells me that we will indeed manage.

What I AM worrying about: I live in constant terror that Mike Myers is going to come back to town from Florida & do something terrible when he finds out we took his food stamps. I worry all the time that something's going to be wrong with the baby when it's born ... or that it won't be born at all. I worry about scheduling another appointment with Dr. Pheiffer. Why do I keep putting it off?? I worry about Ray's family disapproving of me. I worry that Ray's Dad is going to kick us out of the house I've grown to love so much. I worry that he might make us get rid of the kittens. I worry about Grandma & Grandpa V.. I worry about Ray's friends not liking me, especially Mike R. and Cathi McK..

Ray and I are going to get our marriage license next Monday - Dave McK. is coming along as our witness. We're getting married on Friday, August 21. God, it feels strange to write that!! Two weeks from today. I can hardly believe it. We haven't decided where the wedding will be, or who to invite - later today, if it's not too hot, I may walk to a phone booth and make a few calls. City Hall would be fine. We're going to have a very informal, low-key ceremony with only our closest family & friends present. I'm going to invite Dad, Mom, Ken, Debby, Grandma St. John, and - if they'll come - Grandma & Grandpa. I'm not sure who Ray will invite from his side of the family, although I've suggested that he ask his brother Don to stand up with him. It would probably be good for family relations if he did. As of this writing, Don and his wife, Judy, are probably our only allies in the immediate P. family. Ray's dad and all three of his sisters - and, to a lesser extent, his mom - are all firmly convinced that I am, #1, "all wrong for Ray," #2, ruining his life by having this baby and "forcing" him into marriage, and #3, deliberately pulling him away from his family. Most of my information comes from Judy. The cold-shoulder treatment I get from his sisters has been obvious for months. Mainly the problem lies between Sheryl and I. While she was still living here in the house with us, life was one ugly disagreement after another. EVERYTHING she did rubbed me the wrong way: she was vain and fussy and arrogant and demanding, and by the time she finally moved out we weren't even speaking to each other. Now she has thoroughly bad-mouthed me to everyone else in the family, to the point where even 11 yr. old Barbara won't have anything to do with me. Sheryl is also the most vocally opposed to this baby, according to Judy. I'm afraid that after the baby is born, this ridiculous ostracism will include him/her, and that hurts. Thanks to Sheryl, my baby probably won't even get the time of day from its paternal aunts.

I can't imagine myself being married. Terri P.? It doesn't seem possible. What kind of marriage are we going to have? Will it be a long happy one? Will I be a good wife? Are we going to be a happy family?


Some Favorites:
Colors: browns, golds, oranges
Season: Fall
Month: December
Fruits: Strawberries, peaches, pears
Vegetables: Potatoes, peas & onions, broccoli
Dishes: Barbecued chicken, teriyaki steak
TV Shows: Taxi, Barney Miller, M*A*S*H, WKRP In Cincinnati, All My Children

"Summer & Lightning" - ELO
"The Kid Is Hot Tonight" - Loverboy
"Turn Me Loose" - Loverboy
"Passion" - Rod Stewart
"Gi'me Wings" - Rod Stewart
"Matties Rag," "Stealin Time" and "Island" - Gerry Rafferty (from his old "City to City album)
"You Better You Bet" - The Who
"Jesse's Girl" - Rick Springfield
"Angel of the Morning" - Juice Newton
"Bette Davis Eyes" - Kim Carnes
"The Waiting" - Tom Petty
"Prove Your Love" - Fleetwood Mac (an oldie from the "Heroes Are Hard To Find" album)
"You're A Hard Act To Follow" - Split Enz
"Seven Year Ache" - Rosanne Cash
"Into My Life" - an oldie by Three Dog Night
"The Breakup Song" - Greg Kihn band
"Queen of Hearts" - Juice Newton
"Someone Tonight" - REO Speedwagon
"Hold On Tight" - new song by ELO

There they go, and I'm their leader.

Pick up living room and kitchen
Clean oven rack
Clean bedroom - make bed (wash sheets?)
Put laundry away
Hair & makeup

Kimberli - Melissa - Jamie - Kasey - Andrea - Karly/Karli - Shauna - Stace - Brandie (Brandis) - Kyla - Jesse Ryan

Frank & Faith (no more)
Rae takes the blame for killing Michael Pavel (Kim did it.)
Edward Quartermaine
Tom is charged with the murder of Nelson Manning.
Who does she remind me of?? (Lady/TV commercials/droopy eyes/short blonde hair/patient smile)
Susan Moore is pregnant with Alan Quartermaine's baby. (Arnold Wellington.)

Grandma St. John's reaction: "That's nice."

Rick and Leslie are going out on a formal date. 6-4-81

Are they gonna kill Anne Martin today? (3/27/81)
Nope. On Tuesday 3/31.



next        previous        home        archives        want to throw a rock?    

© secraterri 1998-2008
all rights reversed reserved!
comments/questions/spelling corrections HERE
~ nil bastardum carborundum ~