JOURNAL NO. 32
August 1981 - December 1981Age 23
"... The baby just gave me a good, solid THUMP. Maybe (she) knows that Mommy & Daddy are finally making it legal today."
Friday afternoon
August 7, 1981This is supposed to be the hottest day of the whole year, according to the forecast ... already it's up in the 90's. I am firmly planted in front of the electric fan with General Hospital on the tube, and I have no intention of moving from this spot until I have to drive down to Dave's Place and pick up Ray, later this afternoon.
A few minutes ago I looked down at the front of my blouse and noticed a wet stain near my left breast. Upon investigation, I discovered that I'm "leaking" a little bit on both sides! It was such a shock! (A pleasant shock.) Now I'm sitting here, feeling VERY pregnant. I'm barely showing, although my belly is so round anyway that it's hard to be certain what's me & what's the baby ... but the baby is kicking, and my breasts are preparing for nursing, and Lord knows what other changes are taking place inside of me that I don't even know about. It's as though I'm just sitting back & letting somebody else do the driving.
A funny thought just occurred to me: my baby, whoever he/she may turn out to be, may someday be reading this very journal! Hiya, Puss!
Saturday morning
August 8, 1981
(Ce Ce Kitty is grabbing my pen as I write this)The next morning ... early. Preparing to brave the heat of another scorcher. Feeling weak and sick.
Ray and I had dinner at his parents' house last night, and everyone - even Ray's father and his little sister Barbara - was incredibly nice and friendly to me. I couldn't believe it. Where was all the hostility I've come to expect? Maybe it was so pleasant because Sheryl wasn't there to stir up trouble. But whatever the reason, it was a welcome change to actually feel like part of the family instead of Madame X. They asked all kinds of questions about the baby, and Ray and I told them about our wedding plans. Peg has offered to let us have our wedding dinner at their house, after the ceremony.
Afternoon:
Feeling a little better, but it's so damned hot. I can't even move. Ray just got home from work and he's going to turn on the sprinkler in the front yard ... maybe some of the spray will waft in through the window and cool me off.
Sunday afternoon
August 9, 1981Unbearably hot. I can't even MOVE. If it weren't for the electric fan and an occasional refill of ice water, I wouldn't be able to stand it.
Wednesday 6 p.m.
August 12, 1981Haven't felt like writing anything at all because of the heat ... haven't felt like doing much of ANYTHING, for that matter. Come to think of it, I still don't. Maybe I'll write later.
Thursday
August 13, 1981There really is a God. I got out of bed a while ago and it's sunny, bright ... and cool! Or cooler, anyhow. It may get up into the 70's, but that's NOTHIN' compared to the insane temps we've been hitting this past week. I actually slept through the night.
One fly in the ointment (of course): the water is shut off again, and I have no idea whether it was Ray who shut it off or the water company. I have a terrible feeling it was the water company, in which case God knows how long it'll be before we have running water again. I was caught unprepared this time, with only a tiny amount of bottled water stashed in the fridge. Yikes!
I'm also still living in fear of Mike or Ann coming by and demanding their food stamps -- which we don't have. I'm scared to death that Mike might get really ugly about it. Ray could get into a helluva lotta trouble.
Tuesday morning
August 14, 1981It was the water company who shut us off yesterday. Damn. Luckily, Ray was able to run over to the hardware store and pick up another little metal pipe to slip into our meter after dark, so I had a chance to wash the dishes, run a couple loads of laundry, take a shower and wash my hair, and full up a bunch of empty containers with fresh water for today. Next week - hopefully - we can pay our bill and get our water back for good. We're going to be facing some pretty steep bills in the coming months, though ...
Sunny but cool. Drinking coffee, watching a "Three's Company" re-run, watching the kittens run and play on the kitchen table. Cautiously happy. I would like to be completely, all-out happy, but as always there are a few problems to be considered. Mike Myers DID come by the house yesterday. I knew he would. But, he didn't say anything about his food stamps at all, which was a big relief.
Our wedding plans have changed. Ray's older sister Patty called from Arizona and expressed a desire to be at our wedding, so we've postponed it another week to coincide with her arrival. It will either be sometime on Saturday evening, August 29 or else on Sunday, August 30. Frankly I was surprised that Patty wants to be at our wedding, considering her low opinion of me, but I don't mind pushing thing back another week. Actually, it works out better that way, because the 31st (Monday) is the beginning of Ray's vacation. That way we'll have lots of time for a honeymoon ... maybe a few days at Ocean Shores, which is what we'd both like.
Ray's family - especially his mother - has suddenly become unbelievably supportive. We may even have the wedding at their house, in fact. Ray's parents have offered to buy me a wedding dress, too. I know they're anxious for us to be properly married before their grandchild is born, but I also think - I hope - that they're beginning to like & accept me, too. That's important to me. I don't expect that Sheryl and I will ever be friendly, but his parents liking and accepting me is much more important than Sheryl's approval or civility.
My in-laws. My God, these people are going to be my in-laws . What an odd feeling.
Saturday a.m.
August 15, 1981Almost noon ... and it's cloudy and overcast today. I think I could cry with relief. The heat spell must really be over! Now I can begin to feel like a human being again and get some things done toward planning the wedding. There's so much to do in so little time.
A little bit "lonely" today. Ray didn't get home until very late last night, and then he got up at 4:30 this morning and went to work again. So I'm facing another day alone. Pore liddle me. Jesse gives me a reassuring "thump" every now & then ... maybe he's saying, "Hey, it's OK Mom - I'm here!" And in odd way, it is reassuring.
Last night I lay in bed and watched him kick. Now you really can see it from the outside, when he/she kicks - my whole belly jumps. Ray still hasn't seen it, but not for lack of trying: every time he tries to feel the baby moving, the little bugger STOPS moving. Maybe the baby is "teasing Daddy!"
I can't believe that I'm already halfway through my pregnancy, and that in as little as four months the baby will actually be here.
Little Jesse? Little Stacie? Of course, she probably would have changed the spelling to "Stayci" ...
God, I need a shower and a shampoo!!!
MUSIC PLAYED ON AMERICAN BANDSTAND
8/15/81
("Featuring the Dance Contest and Gladys Knight & The Pips!")
Hosted by Dick Clark
Sea Breeze astringent commercial
Certs Breath Mints commercial ("for breath that's face-to-face fresh")
"THE KID IS HOT TONITE" Loverboy
"YOU'RE MY GIRL" Frankie & The Knockouts
Starbust Fruit Chews commercial ("You get a burst the moment you chew")
Signal Mouthwash commercial
Lip Lickers Gloss commercial
Jordache Jeans commercial
GLADYS KNIGHT & THE PIPS Some new ballad off their latest album, didn't catch the title
SOME OBNOXIOUS DISCO-"RAP" SONG by someone named Frankie Smith
Clearasil Commercial
Dentyne Chewing Gum commercial
Scripto Erasable Pen commercial
Nair Hair Remover commercial ("Drop the blade, babe - put the Nair there")
SOMETHING by Randy Van Warmer
RATE-A-RECORD: "Our Lips Are Sealed" by The Go Go's, 77-1/2
"Flame" by Tommy Hill, 75
Compound W Wart Remover commercial
ABC commercial
Osh Kosh B'Gosh commercial
SOMETHING by Van Halen (indecipherable title & lyrics)
SOMETHING by Balance
(I finally gave up after I realized I don't recognize half the songs they're playing today ...)
Tuesday noon
August 18, 1981Hot. Just took a run to the beverage store on Rose Hill; now I'm back in my armchair with "All My Children." I've got to go meet Ray in a couple of hours so we can go apply for our marriage license. Dave McK. is coming with us, to act as witness.
Last night Ray and I were sitting in the living room, watching TV and talking about the wedding. I looked at him and said, "Do you really want to marry me?," and he said, "Yes ... I really do." And he meant it. I guess that on some level it's difficult for me to believe. No one has ever wanted to marry me before. This is the first man who has ever wanted to invest his life into a permanent relationship with me. I'm afraid I may wake up and discover I've been dreaming ... or, worse still, I'm afraid he might walk out in the middle of the afternoon and never come back. It's happened to me before, after all.
Also last night - for no fathomable reason - I went off on some kind of crying jag for about an hour. I just couldn't stop the tears. Ray found me sprawled across the bed with my face all swollen and blotchy from crying, and he was completely baffled. For that matter, so was I. As usual, though, he was absolutely wonderful and understanding, and he helped cheer me up in no time with a good dinner and a nice long bath. He may not understand my moods, but he certainly knows how to snap me out of them!
The only thing I can figure to explain the sudden flood of tears is maybe a case of pre-wedding, pre-baby jitters. I'm right on the brink of two hugely important milestones in my life - marrying and Ray, and shortly afterward having our baby - and if that isn't enough to stress a person out, I don't know what is. I'm having all the normal doubts and fears, nothing too far out of the ordinary, and every once in awhile it catches up with me. Like last night. I wonder if we're doing the right thing, getting married ... and having a baby ... all so quickly. Is Ray right for me? Am I right for him? Are we going to be a happy family? Will we be good parents? Is the baby going to be normal and healthy? Ray and I have been very happy and content in the almost-year we've been together. Our lives have been insulated and private, and we haven't brought a lot of outside people & influences into it. (And when we DID - like when we tried having Mike Myers as a roommate - it was a total disaster.)
Thursday night
August 20, 1981Where is Ray?? It's after nine o'clock and he still isn't home. I keep watching out the window for his headlights.
Hungry. Lately my appetite has become enormous: I am ALWAYS hungry. I'm going through a whole jar of peanut butter a week - Adams Old Fashioned, the kind with the oil on top - and almost half a gallon of milk a day. In the morning I crave breakfast cereal with lots of sugar, and well-done (burned) toast with big chunks of butter on it. The rest of the time I like spicy things, like pepperoni, or else really sweet things. God alone knows how much I weigh right now, since we don't have a bathroom scale, but the way I've been chowing down lately I've probably put on at least fifteen pounds already. Geez. How much of that is baby, and how much of it is fat remains to be seen. Next year is going to be misery, trying to diet down to a presentable weight.
We got our marriage license! Ray and I keep looking at each other in disbelief, saying "We're almost married?!"
The baby kicks and thumps and moves around all the time. From what I can tell, he/she must still be laying on its back ... sideways inside of me?
Friday morning
EARLY
August 21, 1981Nearly six o'clock in the morning, and Terri V. is outta bed already ... that's incredible!! I had to drive Ray to work this morning - he was late, again - and as long as I'm up, I figure I might as well STAY up. I'd like to get some things done today, for a change. The wedding is next weekend, and I still haven't the foggiest idea where we're going to have it. I thought I'd call around and see if any churches are available on the evening of the 29th. (Talk about short notice.) I would also like to visit a couple of maternity shops and find myself the perfect dress to be married in ... something lacy and delicate and old-fashioned ... AND concealing!! ...
I'm sitting here at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. The kittens are running around the kitchen, hunting bugs and climbing into cupboards. Gary Lockwood (KJR) on the radio. Sitting on the table beside me is - wonder of wonders - my wedding ring. MY WEDDING RING?!?! Ray gave it to me last night, although of course I won't be wearing it until after the wedding. (Damn!) He came home around 10 p.m., kissed me hello and said, "Don't go away." I stood there while he reached into his shirt pocket, and then he pulled out a little brown velvet box and solemnly said, "Will you marry me?" Inside was my ring. It's the simple gold band I tried on at Jafco a few days ago - I guess he went back and bought it after work yesterday. It goes without saying that I was thrilled. I still am. I can't stop looking at it. It fits perfectly, and it's just beautiful. I told Ray I wasn't interested in a diamond: this simple, clean-looking gold band suits me just fine. It looks like "me." Ray is (hopefully) going to have one just like it.
THOUGHT: I've been Terri V. for so long, will it take me long to get used to being Terri P.? Is it like getting to used to writing a new year every January?
1:00 p.m.
Afternoon, same day. I drove to Bellevue and met Ray for a quick lunch, and now I'm back home in time to gulp down a 7-Up before making a ton of phone calls from the nearest phone booth. Damn, I wish we had a telephone!! It would certainly make life easier.
Sunday
August 23, 1981Early evening. Another warm summer day, but at least it's not blisteringly hot, the way it was a couple weeks ago. I'm sitting in the big ugly armchair Dad gave us, in front of the fan, listening to the stereo. I've felt weak and wrung-out all day long, and aside from cooking breakfast and reading the two Sunday papers, I haven't done a thing all day. I can't. I feel rotten.
Ray and I went to The Somewhere Else last night, for what was our last big night-out as "single people" ... one week from right now I'll be Mrs. Raymond P. Strange to think about that. We listened to the band (The Ronnie Lee Group, hard rock. Remember the homely little retarded girl dancing all by herself in the middle of the empty dance floor?) We came home at a fairly decent hour, but I still feel Grade A Rotten. Hungry. Ray is making another one of his deluxe roast beef dinners ... I can't wait.
At this point in the journal there is a note written to Jamie, dated 9/24/91:
"Jamie:
It makes me feel bad now when I read this old journal and I remember how careless I was about drinking when I was pregnant with you. I was young, and we just didn't know as much then about the dangers as we do today. Please forgive me, and let's be thankful to the Lord that you were born so beautiful and so healthy.
Mom."
We now have a church, a minister and a definite time & date for the wedding. Yesterday afternoon we had a pre-wedding counseling session with Reverend Vance, at Aldersgate Methodist Church in Bellevue: it was relatively painless, and I think I picked out a great church & minister, considering that I drew the name at random from the Yellow Pages! Rev. Vance is very nice, and the sanctuary where the ceremony will be is lovely but not overbearing. I still don't have any idea who will be coming. Dad and Mom, of course, and Debby and Grandma St. John. Grandma V. says she "can't" come because Grandpa is too sick, and Ken - my stepdad - is holding out because he doesn't think he's really welcome, I think. At any rate, it's going to be a small wedding. Maybe 30 people at the very most. Considering the last-minute arrangements, it's a wonder that anyone is going to be there at all.
Watching Ray bustle around the kitchen ... checking his roast, slicing mushrooms, putting together a pot of spaghetti sauce for tomorrow. As usual he's wearing his old jogging shorts and his raggedy tennis shoes; his back and shoulders are red from the sun, and his hair is sticking out wildly in all directions. He looks like a little boy, thoroughly absorbed in his dinner preparations, wearing a half-frown, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Smells of roasting meat and freshly chopped onion are wafting my way. The house is in its usual Sunday condition ... empty beer bottles in the living room, newspapers scattered on the floor, dirty breakfast dishes soaking in the sink and strewn along the drainboard. I am taking the day off from housework.
Monday afternoon
August 24, 1981Just went and paid the $148 water bill at Kirkland City Hall ... now we have WATER again!! YAY!!!! No more planning my days around the amount of water I have stashed in the fridge. The house is still a complete disaster area - even worse than it was last night - and I'm just sitting in the middle of it all. I would like to spend one whole day this week cleaning EVERYTHING, from top to bottom, so I won't have to worry about it next week - but apparently today isn't gonna be the day. In an hour I've got to pick up Ray at Western Kraft, and then we're going to his folks' house to bring them up to date on the wedding plans.
I wonder: am I going to find a nice wedding dress? Will Ray have a ring? Will we go on a honeymoon?
Tuesday morning
August 25, 1981TODAY will be Cleaning Day. I purposely let Ray take the car to work this morning, so I wouldn't be tempted to go out & ignore the housework. I plan to scrub and scour and rub and clean from top to bottom ... but first, a bowl of cereal ... a quick scribble in my journal ... a hot shower ... and "All My Children." In that order.
I really like something that Margot Kidder says in this week's People, regarding marriage. She says, " ... I'm dying to be married again - to have someone to have children with, grow old with, shuffle around in slippers with, watch TV with, wake up at four in the morning with, and just chat with about your fears." Naturally it made me think of Ray & I. I woke up in the middle of the night last night after a terrible nightmare, and Ray just took me in his arms and held me until I stopped crying and felt "safe" enough to fall back asleep.
That's one thing I think marriage is about ... being there when the other person is vulnerable and needs a pair of arms & a soothing word. And knowing the other person is there to do the same for you, when YOU need it. Someone to take showers with ... to split a large pizza with (pepperoni on my half, sausage on his) ... to make plans for the future with ... to share the Sunday paper with ... to eat ice cream bars in bed with ... to gripe about the neighbors with ... to fight over pillows with ...
I used to swear that I would never be a housewife. I thought it was "demeaning" for a woman to stay home all day and take care of the cleaning and the cooking and the children. I thought I was above all that. Now here I am, a full-fledged homemaker - a novice homemaker, but a homemaker nonetheless - and I like it! After the baby arrives, my whole day will revolve around the care & feeding of the new little person and my new husband and our home. I can't wait. I CAN'T WAIT!!
Wednesday evening
August 26, 1981Well, I got a lot of stuff done ... cleaned the house yesterday, went dress shopping today ... but I seem to be losing my perspective. I'm not wild about my wedding dress, and I keep sitting here thinking about how lumpy-dumpy I look in it, instead of thinking about what it means to be wearing it in the first place. My nerves are shot to hell. I've had two super-hectic days in a row, and I'm feeling frazzled. Ray and I are picking at each other, too. Thank God I'm not having a big formal wedding like Princess Patty or Princess Sheryl: I'd be a nervous wreck. I'm having enough trouble handling this little dinky wedding.
Number One on my list of priorities tonight: I'VE GOTTA CALL DAD AND TELL HIM THE WEDDING IS ON SATURDAY, NOT SUNDAY!!!!! So why am I putting it off? Cuz I'm SCARED!
Oh yes, that reminds me. We went over to Ray's folks' house last night and talked to Peg (Don is out of town), and she informed us it would be "impossible" to have the wedding at 6 p.m., since Patty's plane doesn't get in from Tucson until 5:30. Which of course practically had me in tears. I'm so damned tired of changing everything all the time. We managed to get hold of Rev. Vance, and he was nice enough to suggest a 7:30 ceremony, but that's still going to be a real tight squeeze, timewise. Which leads me to my Number Two worry: calling Mom and giving her the latest time & date changes. Damn. Every time I talk to her, I swear that the plans are "definite" and there's no chance of them changing again. And then they always DO.
Frazzled from spending a whole day shopping with Ray's mother, his grandmother and his sister. AAARRRRGGGH.
Something old: Great-Great-Grandma's handkerchief (Gram St. John)
Something new: My dress
Something borrowed: Earrings from Barbara
Something blue: Garter from Grandma Bev P.
Thursday
August 27, 1981
I'm not doin' NUTHIN' today ... and it feels terrific!! My wedding is two days away, but I refuse to sit here and pull my hair out. I keep telling myself it's no big deal, it'll all be over in a flash. For all the fuss & hullabaloo of Patty's big wedding, compared to my own small-scale affair, in two weeks both weddings will be only memories. Maybe deep down inside I'm envious of the big beautiful weddings other people have. I'm not sure. Being pregnant makes a big wedding impossible. There just isn't the time - or the MONEY.
Friday morning
August 28, 1981Six o'clock in the morning, but I can't sleep. I drove Ray to work at 5 a.m. so I could have the car for the day, but now I'm too keyed up and restless to slip back into bed. Maybe in a little while. This will be another relatively slow, easy day ... I want to be rested and relaxed for tomorrow. My wedding day. I just can't get over it. Terri V. is finally getting married. I've been reading some of the old journals I wrote in high school, circa 1975 (the Scott K./Rick H./early Steve P. era), and I remember how far-off and impossible marriage seemed to me then.
Yesterday afternoon Ray's mom and Barbara and Ray and I went to Lamont's at Crossroads and outfitted Ray for the wedding. He'll be wearing blue/gray slacks, a gray dress shirt, dark gray corduroy blazer and a striped tie (much to his dismay, I might add). The day before that, when Peg (as Ray's mother will henceforth be referred to) took me shopping. I bought my own dress, and she bought me a maternity slip, a pair of shoes and some nice pantyhose. My dress was on sale for $17.99, and it's very pretty, but it's not a maternity dress and it makes me look very heavy, especially around the tummy (where I'm full of growing, kicking BABY). Everyone who is coming to the wedding knows I'm preg, though, so I guess they'll forgive the bride for looking something less than svelte.
Peg also took me to a florist and ordered $65 worth of flowers. (Ray and I are starting to feel guilty about all the money she's shelling out.) I'll be carrying a blue and white bouquet, with matching flowers in my hair. Ray and Don will have boutonnieres, and Judy will have a small bouquet to carry.
We're not going to be able to afford Ray's ring until his next paycheck. Fortunately, his Dad has a nice, plain gold band - like mine - that he's letting us borrow till then. That way I can put a ring on Ray's finger during the ceremony.
What else can I tell you? Oh yes. I finally called my parents last night and told them about the new time for the wedding. It was a little scary, but now it's over with and I'm left with NOTHING to worry about. That gives me a nice, buoyant feeling. Mom was very nice about it - in fact, the later time might be easier for her, and for Uncle Dick & Aunt Ann if they decide to come. But Dad was grumpy. At first, anyhow. "On Saturday?" he groused. "Well, I'm just not gonna be able to make it, I guess." I knew he would be difficult, but it's my own fault for not calling him sooner. He doesn't like unexpected changes in plan. When I explained that it wouldn't be until 7:30 - and when he heard the exhausted, frazzled tone of my voice - he relented and said that of course he'd be there. (With Ann, his new girlfriend.) They'll come by the house at 6:00 tomorrow evening, and they'll drive me to the church. I'm probably going to be nervous as hell, and it'll be nice to have my Daddy there to lend a little moral support.
Peg is having everyone over to their house for a little champagne after the ceremony, and naturally she invited my family. Mom was delighted and said yes, of course she and Grandma would love to come. Dad flatly refused. (Again, I knew he would.) He said that he and Ann have "other plans." Now that I think about it, I'm a little hurt. It wouldn't kill him to have one glass of champagne and to stand still long enough for a few introductions and pleasantries ... but, that's my dad for you. I really couldn't expect anything more from him.
Grandma V. is definitely not coming ... that hurts too. The woman raised me, but she can't spare an hour to watch me get married? She says it's because she can't leave Grandpa, not even for one evening, but I have a feeling it goes deeper than that. I think she's disappointed in me. I still love her very much, but things just haven't been the same between us since I moved out on my own, three years ago. We've pulled apart from each other. I wish she would reconsider and come to my wedding, but I know she won't. We got her wedding gifts yesterday - a second-hand vacuum cleaner and Gim's old rocking chair. The vacuum cleaner barely works but it's better than nothing: the rocking chair is old and beautiful and familiar, and I love it. It sat in Grandma's house for many years, and now it will sit in mine. In another few months I will rock my first baby in it.
I also got my old bookcase back - the one that Grandpa V. made for me when I was nine years old. Later today I'm going to clean it completely (it's a mess ... it's been sitting in Dad's carport for two years, and it's covered with dirt) and then I want Ray to move it into the baby's room. The first piece of furniture in Jesse/Stacie's bedroom.
Mom said something funny on the phone last night: she said she'd been sitting there doodling my new name over and over again ... "Terri P.," "Terri Lynn P.," "Terri L. P." When she told me about it she sounded ... I don't know ... wistful, somehow. Her firstborn getting married and all that, I s'pose. Not to mention imminent grandmotherhood!
I'm getting MARRIED tomorrow!
Saturday morning
August 29, 1981This is it. This is my wedding day. (!!) I'm sitting here at the kitchen table, sipping a glass of 7-Up in an effort to combat my stomach upset, looking at the gray clouds laying low overhead. CeCe is sitting on my foot, playing with the hem of my bathrobe. "The Jetsons" are on TV behind me. Ray is working a few hours this morning - by choice - we need the money, he says. Running a load of laundry in the bathroom. The house is fairly neat and clean, but there are still a LOT of things I want to get done today. The baby just gave me a good, solid THUMP. Maybe he knows that Mommy & Daddy are finally making it legal today.
Our marriage license is sitting on the table beside me: Don Jr. took Ray to Seattle yesterday to pick it up. I never knew there would be so many darned FORMS to fill out.
How do I feel? Distinctly unbridelike. I'm not nervous and I'm not excited: I'm just sort of numb at this point. Maybe I'll feel differently in a few hours.
Just ate a couple of hot dogs. I would like to smoke a joint or drink a beer or something, but I know better. Ray should be home at 2:00.
"Ray" & I on our wedding day
August 29, 1981
Monday morning
August 31, 1981Well ... the Big Day has come and gone, and I am now Terri P. ... Mrs. Raymond E. P.! People keep asking me, "How does it feel to be married?," but even though I've thought about it and thought about it, I have to say that I honestly don't feel any different at all! Maybe it's because Ray and I lived together for nearly a year before we got married. Maybe it it's because our wedding was so low-key and informal and easy. I look at the ring on my finger, and the wedding bouquet in the fridge, and the gifts piled on the kitchen counter, and the only thing that's hard to believe is that it's OVER already ...
I have a lot to write about. Ray is sound asleep in bed, while I sit here in the living room with a cup of coffee and "Family Feud" on TV. (God, no wonder I don't feel any "different" ... my routine hasn't exactly undergone a major change.) We couldn't afford to go on a honeymoon this week, which is a little disappointing, but at least Ray has the week off so we can be lazy and do anything we want around the house for the next few days.
The wedding had its moments. Five minutes before the ceremony, it started raining buckets. By the time we were ready to start, a few people still hadn't shown up: they were still slipping into the sanctuary after the ceremony began. There weren't a lot of people there - just the closest family members and friends. Dad escorted me up the aisle and gave me away.
The minute Reverend Vance began to perform the ceremony, Ray's little nephew Billy started to scream at the top of his lungs -- probably because both of his parents were standing up with us at the altar. No one was paying any attention to him. He kept up the screaming & crying throughout the entire ceremony, until FINALLY someone was intelligent enough to let him toddle up the aisle and stand by his mother. I wish they would have just done that in the first place. Rev. Vance was wonderful about it and didn't even bat an eye: he just spoke up louder, to compensate for Billy. He also was kind enough not to say anything when Bob Tuffs took flash pictures during the ceremony - something that was STRICTLY forbidden! The ceremony was traditional. Ray wouldn't even look at me while he was repeating his vows: he just stared straight ahead, as though he was scared to move. I was amazingly calm and composed. The only difficult part was kneeling for The Lord's Prayer ... or, should I say, getting back up after The Lord's Prayer ... !!
When Rev. Vance pronounced us man and wife and Ray gave me a kiss, we turned around to face our guests and the minister said, "I am pleased to introduce, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Raymond P." Flashbulbs were going off, and we just stood there grinning like fools. It was a happy moment. Even Billy stopped crying, and everyone started to applaud as we half-ran, half-walked down the aisle.
After the ceremony was over, we went to Rev. Vance's office to sign the license and the other paperwork. Then everyone went to Ray's folks' house for champagne and wedding cake. Both of my parents were there, and not only were they civil - pleasant, even - to each other, they also got along famously with Ray's family.
Friday morning
September 4, 1981A few days later ... I've been "honeymooning." This week has been long, lazy and almost unbelievably happy. Ray and I haven't done anything much out of the ordinary -- hanging out at Dave's Place, visiting Ray's folks, doing things around the house, grilling steaks, watching late night TV. Right now Ray is at the paint store, picking out paint for the bathroom.
Tomorrow afternoon is Patty's wedding -- my new sister-in-law! -- tonight is the rehearsal. Ray is going to be an usher.
I'm beginning to "feel married" ... a little. Our life together has changed so little since the wedding - we're still enjoying the same comfortable, easy lifestyle that we've enjoyed all year - but now there's an undercurrent of permanence and solidity that wasn't there before. I look at Ray and think, "This is my husband." I look at the house and think, "This is our house." For keeps! It makes me feel very good and very secure. All of the mistakes I've made in the past, all the crummy relationships, all the heartaches, all the pain ... none of that matters anymore. This is the beginning of our married life. I know that someday I'll look back on this period of my life as being one of the happiest ... the most filled with promise. So much could be ahead of us, and it's all beginning NOW. Today. Ray and I are so close, and we get along so well ... it's difficult to imagine we could ever be otherwise. Divorce is impossible, unthinkable. We have arguments, but nothing serious. Nothing we can't handle. We've never gone to bed angry at each other, and that's the philosophy we plan to follow ... "Never let the sun go down on your anger."
Monday afternoon
September 7, 1981
<----- Sammi Cat is sleeping right here
Labor DayHot. Sitting at the kitchen table with my third can of Pepsi, my hair in rollers, "One Life To Live" on the tube behind me. Dad was here for about an hour or so, just to visit, but now he's gone and I really should get the vacuuming done. Too lazy, though. Ray is painting the bathroom but I just can't seem to follow his example. Sammi is stretched out, asleep, on the table next to this notebook: he's been a holy terror these past few days & I don't know why. The other morning he climbed onto our bed while Ray and I were still sleeping and he peed all over the comforter!! Right now he's got white paint all over the side of his little black face. Damned cat.
God, I'm sick of Luke & Laura on "General Hospital" !!!!!!!!!!! Why doesn't Mikos Cassadine just zap 'em with his weather machine?!
This is Ray's last day of vacation ... tomorrow he's back to the salt mines, and I'll have the house to myself again. On one hand it'll be nice to have my privacy & solitude again, but on the other hand I've gotten used to having my handsome husband around, and it's going to seem strangely empty around here w/o him.
Patty's wedding was on Saturday. In a letter I'm writing to Karen, I described it this way:
"... But would you believe that because of all the mishaps at our wedding, it was even more special to us than it might have been otherwise?? All the little mistakes and imperfections gave our wedding a character all its own. Yesterday afternoon Ray's sister Patty got married - one week after we did - and her wedding was one of those huge, stiff, formal things, with bridesmaids and organ music and a ten-minute procession up the aisle and the whole bit. Technically, it was perfect: not a hair out of place, not a missed step. But it was also very COLD. No one smiled. In fact, they all looked positively grim! No on laughed, or applauded, or anything else to make it feel like a HAPPY occasion, the way they did at our funny little wedding. Patty's wedding cost thousands of dollars, and ours probably cost $300 altogether ... but guess who had the most fun? And isn't getting married supposed to be a happy occasion, anyway? ... "And it's true. There was a minute or two during Patty's wedding - when the organist started playing the traditional wedding march and the church was filled with music - that I felt a twinge of envy. I've always loved that music, and I always imagined myself strolling up the aisle while it played. But honestly, I wouldn't have traded our quiet simple wedding for all the white lace and organ music and catered receptions in the world. Um. Yes I would have. But I was determined to pretend otherwise.
Ray didn't quite hear Reverend Vance during the part of the ceremony where we were exchanging vows, and he ended up promising to "love, honor and carry me" (instead of "cherish"), and he pledged me his "face" (instead of faith). I nearly missed a step going down the aisle after the ceremony and almost fell flat on my face. Wouldn't THAT have been cute?! Reverend Vance thought Ray's name was "Roland," and he kept referring to him that way.
Tuesday morning
September 8, 1981Just woke up after a whole nightful of WEIRD dreams. For the most part, everything was a jumbled-together hodgepodge of familiar faces and places (Danny Kent, Karen Pugh, Grandma St. John's house), but two small pieces of dream stand out:
1. I needed a place to live. Mom and Grandma St. John had an apartment together, so I went over there with my boyfriend - Scott S. - to see if I could move in with them. When I got to their apartment, the place was already filled with a bunch of my cousins and other relatives, and there was no room for me. Someone suggested that Scott and I move in together somewhere. I hated the idea, because I was no longer in love with Scott. In fact, I was miserable, because I was deeply in love with someone else & I couldn't remember who it was. Just then Ray walked in the door, and suddenly I remembered that it was Ray that I loved, and I felt very happy and relieved.
2. For some reason, my eyesight was failing and the doctors said I was going blind. I could actually see just fine, but no one believed me when I told them that. My mother said that now I was "handicapped" and I could never be left alone again. I wouldn't even be allowed to leave the house. I was so mad at my mother that I screamed and yelled and started hitting her.
A worry:
Our dumb neighbor from next door - Ben Something, the guy with the two rotten little kids and the perpetual wine glass in hand - came over here the other evening to invite Ray and I camping. (Naturally I said "No thanks.") While he was there, he looked at my belly and said, "What - have you already had your baby?" When I said no, I still had another three months to go, he could hardly believe it. "When my wife was six months along, she stuck out to HERE!" he said, amazed. Now I'm worried. I keep looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, with my clothes off & with them on, and the bulge I was so proud of last week seems to have just disappeared. I don't look pregnant at all. The creep is right!
The baby is kicks and thumps all the time, so I know he's in there, but I'm just not getting as big as I'm supposed to be at this point. I'm afraid that something is wrong. Maybe the baby isn't growing normally, or maybe he's not growing at all. For the first time in two months I have that awful, scary feeling that something is going to go wrong. We're going to lose this baby, or he's going to be born with some kind of serious defect. With all the confusion & chaos of our wedding the last few weeks, the fear had sort of subsided and I'd started feeling optimistic about the baby. Now the fear is back, dammit.
Two young women pushing baby strollers just walked past our house.
Baby ... are you in there? Is everything going to turn out all right? Am I going to be reading this journal in six months and smile, because you were born perfect & healthy? I hope so. A year from right now I hope there's a pink, brown-haired little person on the living room floor in front of me, gurgling and playing.
At least I vacuumed yesterday, so the carpet looks clean. Ray wants to go bowling today at 4:30. Mailman is here ... did I get anything?YEP!!! A wedding card from Grandpa Torg and a check for $100!!!!
Early Fall 1981 is:Sending away for mail order catalogs ... sliced ham with brown sugar ... clipping recipes ... a dozen new plants ... stomach aches ... getting used to the wedding ring on my finger ... Jamie Lynn ... Ray's new bowling team (Mike, Larry, Jim & Art) ... back-combing my hair ... boxes of baby clothes ... Pepsi ... You Bake It pizza ... frogs croaking outside the bedroom window ... Grandpa V. passing away ... the refrigerator on the blink, and no electric rollers ... painting the baby's bedroom ... Dr. Pheifer and Dr. Van Paaschen ... wedding pictures ... baby kicking me on the right side ...
Wednesday morning
September 9, 1981Sipping a cup of hot tea ... the remnants of last night's take-out Chinese dinner are spread all over the kitchen. (Note for future: the eggrolls from The Ming Palace are ROTTEN.) Just got a big package from Ray's great-aunts in Arizona, Doreen & Helene: a set of bathroom towels (lime green, hot pink), two kitchen mitts and a Dustbuster. Guess I'm gonna have to get on the stick and write some thank-you notes pretty quick. Then we'll have our reception - maybe on October 3rd? - and I'll have some more "thank yous" to scribble, I hope.
Cloudy, gray, overcast. Kimberli Harris is whining and complaining to Barry Ryan about the sad state of her life on "Ryans Hope." I am freshly showered, with my clean damp hair twisted up in a towel and my mouth tasting of toothpaste and tea. I have a little bit of housework to do, but nothing major. Tonight is Ray's first night of bowling on the new team, maybe ... IF they can come up with two more people to bowl on the Western Kraft II team. I hope so. I've always enjoyed going with Ray to watch.
OUR WEDDING GIFTS
Grandma St. John: needlepoint plaques
Grandma V.: rocking chair
Grandma and Grandpa P.: $80
Grandma Deines: wine glasses
Patty & John: $20
Janet K.: picture frame
Uncle Dick & Aunt Ann: wine decanter, baking dish
Nancy & Bob Tuffs: Arcoroc dishes
Judy & Don: electric can opener
Grandpa Torg & Mickey: $100
Barry & Gloria S.: $20
Aunt Helene & Aunt Doreen: towels, oven mitts, Dustbuster
OUR LIFESTYLEA few words about our lifestyle today in 1981.
Marriage hasn't changed things very much - except, as I mentioned before, the new sense of permanence that underlies everything now. We've developed a certain way of living & doing things, and we're both very comfortable with it. Our life is relaxed and easy: a simple life, revolving around the house and the kittens and each other. We see our families fairly often, and every once in a while we'll go to Dave's Place for beer, but by and large it's just the two of us. After the baby comes, it will just be the three of us. We both love the comforts of home ... a neat, clean house (but not "fussy-neat"), good food, a well-stocked fridge, clean sheets on the bed, good TV shows, reading the evening paper, keeping the yard in shape, playing with the kittens. We drive a beat-up old car, drink Rainier Beer, smoke home-grown weed, sleep until noon on weekends, wear jeans and T-shirts (mine are of the maternity variety at the moment!), listen to rock music, and watch movies on HBO instead of going out.
Continued on 9/11/81
Ray does most of the grocery shopping and cooking, in a nice reversal of the usual sex roles. He worked in a restaurant for a few years, and he has always had a real aptitude for cooking, I guess (whereas I have a hard time heating a frozen pizza).* I take care of the house, the laundry, stuff like that ... and to my amazement I actually enjoy it. During the years I lived with Dad, I was expected to do all the housecleaning, and I hated it. One high school girl trying to clean that filthy house was impossible ... Dad was the No. 1 Oscar Madision Slob of all time, and there were all those dogs running around the house, and it was disheartening to spend the whole day picking things up and cleaning and then realizing that the place STILL looked as ugly and smelled as terrible as it had when I started. No wonder by the time I left home, I hated housecleaning with a passion. I swore that I would never again be a "slave" to housework. Now things are different, and I think the thing that makes all the difference is the fact that this is MY house. I'm house proud. It's not the biggest house in the world, and our furniture is old and frayed, and we really need to paint ... but none of that matters. I love this place. I look around the living room and the kitchen, at all the little things that have been added since I moved in, and it gives me a feeling of pride and love and security. The little plants in the kitchen windowsill ... the antique rocking chair ... the neat rows of record albums ... the glass-topped coffee table and the tattered but clean sofa and armchair ... Ray's bowling trophy on top of the TV ... the framed pictures on the wall ... the spice rack, and the bright orange mixing bowl, and the Hawaiian serving plate decorating the kitchen. Our cupboards are filled with dishes and glasses and silverware, most of it mismatched; the hall closet holds neatly folded piles of clean towels (also mismatched!) Our bedroom is a curious mixture of little girl/married woman ... the big bed where we read and make love and sleep curled up next to each other at night, and my rag dolls and stuffed animals arranged on top of the dressers.
("Sammi, NO!!!" He's trying to horn in on CeCe's hunk of pot roast.)
The words of that old Crosby, Stills and Nash song run through my head whenever I think about how much I love this place:
"Our house is a very very very fine house
With two cats in the yard
Life used to be so hard
Now everything is easy 'cause of you ..."
CURRENT FAVORITES
COLORS: Brown, gold, orange, "fall colors"
FOODS: Pepperoni sandwiches, crunchy peanut butter, steak, baked potatoes, pop tarts, pizza crust, burned toast, barbecued chicken & ribs, Rice Krispies
SONG: "Hold On Tight," ELO
SOAP OPERA: "All My Children"
DRINKS: Milk, Sunkist Orange Soda, Pepsi
PEN PALS: Georgia Rodriguez, Debbie Short
HOBBIES: Working on scrapbooks, sending away for mail-order catalogs, clipping recipes, writing in journal, making tapes, houseplants, rolling joints, writing letters, pregnancy
CLOTHING: Maternity jeans, red bathrobe, men's dress shirts
BEST FRIENDS: Ray, Sammi, CeCe, Baby
MAGAZINES: Parents, Family Circle, Womans Day, Baby Talk, Expecting
CARTOON STRIP: Cathy, For Better Or Worse, Herman, The Far Side, Drabble, Ziggy
TV SHOW: M*A*S*H, Barney Miller, WKRP in Cincinnati, Taxi
A thought out of nowhere:I'm looking forward to holding my baby more than anything else, I guess. I dream about holding a warm, sweet-smelling tiny person. I'm looking forward to rocking her.
Today is a "Schlepp Day." Yesterday I did a whole bunch of housework, so today things are relatively neat and clean. I'm just sitting around watching soaps, reading Dr. Spock, trying to write letters to Tammy and Jean Ann, feeling the baby thrashing around inside of me. CeCe just climbed up into my lap, with a little squawk of protest: it's time for her afternoon nap, and she demands my lap and my undivided attention.
I asked Ray to call Dr. Pheifer for me today, since he has the car and I'm nowhere near a phone. I hope he remembers. I've GOT to see my doctor soon, and make sure that everything is alright with the baby. I've tried to put what our stupid neighbor said the other night out of my head, but I'm still convinced that I don't look pregnant enough for someone who's six months along. I've also been having dull pains in my lower pelvic area, and I'm sorta worried about that. I want this baby. Every month I seem to want it more & more. Apathy has given away to intense anticipation. I lay in bed at night and think about the baby, wondering what it will be like to be a mother. When I walk down the hallway I peek into the spare room that will someday be the nursery, picturing in my mind the way it will look with a crib & a dresser & a little person in it. I've been reading an outdated version of "Baby & Child Care" all day, and all the stuff about feeding schedules and formulas and diaper-changing and bathing is a bit overwhelming. Am I ever gonna get the hang of it? Will I be a good, efficient, capable mother? Am I going to enjoy giving so much of my time & energies to another person?
A thought:
The change of seasons seemed more pronounced when I was still in school ... now I barely notice summer gradually slipping into fall. One day it's too hot, and the next day it's golden and perfect, the way it is today. Stopping to feel the season for a moment.
Saturday 1:30
September 12, 1981Sun is shining ... I've got the car today and $90 in my purse. Ray works until 6:30, and then I'll be picking him up at Dave's Place around 7:00 or so. The whole day stretches out ahead of me. The two little neighbor kids (the OBNOXIOUS ones, Chris and - ugh - Damien) are running around my living room, playing with Sammi. Ordinarily I wouldn't even allow them to set foot in my house, but I seem to be in a tolerant mood today. Sort of. (Me: "Don't TOUCH her, Damien ... and I MEAN it." Shades of future disciplinarian!) I only hope that my kids are one helluva lot better-behaved than these two monsters are. They have no manners at all, especially Damien. Early on in childhood I can remember Grandma V. teaching Dick & I to have perfect manners around grown-ups, and we were relatively polite, well-behaved little kids as a result. Looking back I remember that I actually enjoyed being polite. I plan to bring my child up the same way ... teaching him/her to say "please" and "thank you," and how to answer the phone like a human being, and how to behave around adults, and things like that ... all the things that Chris & Damien have obviously not been taught.
Ray and I had a fight last night, of sorts. For the second night in a row he came home several hours late & very screwed up. (Last night's excuse: he had to stay at Dave's Place for a few hours and "babysit" his drunk brother. His excuse the night before: he had to stay at Dave's Place for a few hours and "console" Randy Seaver, who has apparently broken up with Marcie again.) I wasn't mad at him for being late - in fact, I was never mad at all, and neither was he, really - so I guess it wasn't an actual "fight." He wanted to make love. (Ha ha, if that's what you call it when a drunk, unshaven husband reeking of beer tries to roll on top of you in the middle of the night.) I said "No" - kindly but firmly - and he staggered out to the living room and tried to fall asleep in the armchair. TWICE. Both times I had to practically drag him back to bed and re-tuck him in. Mercifully he passed out finally, and I got a few hours of sleep.
Sunday night
September 13, 1981Home. Tired. Watching the 1980 Emmy Awards. Ray is out in the living room, watching something else. Today was Barbara's 12th birthday, and we all went to The Olde Spaghetti Factory for dinner, then back to Peg & Don's for cake and ice cream. I'm now stuffed full of good food, and I feel very sleepy and very content. Ray and I are back on good terms, as I knew we would be. He has been very loving and tender the past couple of days. He is, by far, the gentlest man I have ever known.
Monday morning (early)
September 14, 1981 (I remember where I was fifteen years ago today. ARF.)Eeek. The house is a MESS. Looks like I've got a full day of housecleaning ahead of me, but at least I'm out of bed earlier than usual. It's still too early to tell how energetic I'll be feeling, though ... it's 8:00 now and already I'm thinking about heading back to bed. Maybe I should gulp down a couple hot cups of coffee and take a cold shower. Ray took the car today, dammit - we'd already agreed to let me have it today. (I HAVE GOT TO CALL DR. PHEIFER!!!!!!! Ray didn't call him for me on Friday: I knew he wouldn't.)
As always, I'm full of thoughts about the baby. This week I seem to favor the name "Jamie" for a girl. I even ran it past Ray and he liked it. He's pretty much leaving it up to me, though. "Jamie" - or "Jaime"? - makes me think of a little girl with Ray's big brown eyes and brown hair. Might even be Jamie Lynn, too. Knowing me, I may change my mind another twenty times between now and the time the baby is born, but Jamie is a name I've liked for years, so you never know.
I like to lay in bed, early in the morning after Ray has left for work, and feel the baby move. For some reason that's the time when he/she is most active. Sometimes the kicks and thumps are so hard, I could swear that Baby is turning somersaults inside of me ... it makes me wonder what really is going on in there. I wish there were some way to take a peek and make sure everything is OK ... see what the baby looks like, and what he's doing ...
Moment to remember: Ray sitting at the kitchen table watching his football game on the portable TV, tenderly cuddling CeCe, as though she were made of porcelain ... if he's this tender and loving towards a kitten , think what a tender, loving father he's going to be.
Tuesday morning
September 15, 1981Sunny day. Peanut butter sandwich and milk for breakfast. "All My Children."
Thursday morning
September 17, 1981Morning. Just climbed out of bed, groggy from another morning of silly dreams (none of which bear repeating). Waiting for my coffee to heat up ... wondering where in the world my kittens are? Ordinarily they're right there at my feet when I unlatch the door in the morning, waiting to be let out, but this morning there's no sign of them. Hmmm.
Cloudy and overcast today, for a change. We were having another mini-heatwave earlier in the week, and even though it wasn't as unbearable as August was, it was still sticky & uncomfortable. Today there's even fog - lifting now - and when I stuck my nose out the door to call for Sam and CeCe, I got a whiff of that familiar "beginning of fall" smell. Reminds me of walking to school early in the morning ... a nice, happy smell. Brings back pleasant memories. I always loved the first day of school.
I've got an appointment next Tuesday at 2:30 with Dr. Pheifer - thank God. Peg called and made the arrangements for me, since I can't get to a phone, and she's going to take me. I'm so relieved. In fact, I'm very happy today.
Baby, please hurry up and get here! And when you get here, please be healthy and normal and ready to join our little family!
Terri, Ray and Jesse P.
Ray, Terri and Jamie P.If she's born close to Christmas, maybe her middle name could be "Noelle" ... ?
Friday noon
September 18, 1981Sitting in my customary noon-time spot in the big armchair ... sipping my first cup of coffee, my clean wet hair wrapped in a towel, "All My Children" coming on in a minute. (How long is the Sybil Thorne murder business going to go on?? And who really did it?)
Sunny. Might even get hot today, dammit. The house is clean, and I have very little to do today. Maybe I'll work on some of my special little projects ... my scrapbook? My recipe cards? A letter to Jesse ... ?
A thought occurred to me in the shower this morning: after the baby is born, am I going to miss these long, private days? (Note from 12/21/84: Sometimes!)
Excerpts from a letter I'm writing to my pen pal Melinda in New Jersey:
"... Ray and I spent our wedding night at the Ramada Inn in Kirkland. By the time we checked in and went to our room it was after midnight and we were both shit-faced from all the champagne. Ray konked out the minute his head hit the pillow ... I had to get all his clothes off before I passed out myself ... not exactly the kind of passionate wedding night you read about in novels!More Honeymoon:
" ... I woke up the next morning and watched an old Clint Eastwood spaghetti western, then took a bath and got dressed before Ray even twitched a muscle ... "
The Baby:
" ... The baby is coming along just fine. For awhile there I was having these terrible anxiety attacks because I didn't seem to be 'showing enough.' You could hardly tell I was pregnant at all. Even our next door neighbor noticed it - he thought I'd already had the baby!"
Now I look like the side of a house, and I'm getting bigger every day. Or so it seems. The only clothes I can fit into are these disgusting STRETCH maternity jeans and tops that make me look like a real frowse, but I'm not complaining. Much. I have these blue spells when I stand in front of the mirror in my stretch pants and my "I'M NOT FAT, I'M PREGNANT" T-shirt and I cry because I look like such a tub, but Ray - bless him - has finally learned to cope with these silly moods ... he's just as excited about this baby as I am. Next month we start prenatal classes."
"I'm not going in for natural childbirth. I'm too much of a coward for that, but I still want us to be prepared for the actual birth and how to take care of the baby and all that stuff. Neither one of us has ever even changed a diaper before. We're complete novices. Ray plans to be there in the delivery room with me, so I want him to be prepared for some of the stuff that may be slightly less than pleasant. That's what these classes are for.
" ... I'm feeling fine. The baby started kicking in the middle of July and hasn't stopped since. Sometimes I think he must have a trampoline in there ... "
" ... I really enjoy the sensation. It's almost as though the baby is talking to me. A couple of strange things are happening to me, though, as I get further and further along. First of all, my appetite has become really weird. Aside from the 16 oz. jar of peanut butter and the three and a half gallons of milk I go through each week, I've been having unusual cravings ... among other things I have been craving burned toast, strawberry Pop Tarts, plain hamburgers (just meat & bun, no condiments), Pepsi, avocados, and - my favorite thing of all - plain pizza. We pick up a regular pepperoni pizza from one of the local restaurants and bring it home, where I strip off all the toppings until there's only the crust and a little sauce. Then I add a couple of pepperoni slices and eat it. No cheese, no mushrooms, no olives. All of that stuff gets dumped onto Ray's part of the pizza. I've got to have it this way or I can't eat it."
"The other weird development is this inexplicable nesting instinct I seem to be developing. Like staying up till midnight organizing the hall closet. Or yesterday, when I spent three hours sorting through a lifetimes' worth of old letters. The house has to be neat & clean at all times or I go nuts. Already I've interrupted myself half a dozen times as I write this letter - to polish the coffee table, wash the "lunch dishes" (one plate, two forks, a knife and a coffee cup), put a roll of toilet paper in the bathroom, among other things. This is all very strange, particularly since I've never exactly been the world's tidiest housekeeper ..."
" ... So you can see that things are going fairly well around the P. household. I feel very domestic. I remember swearing that I would never be a housewife, and here I am. Barefoot and pregnant, too! (Omigod.) Underneath it all, I feel very much the same person I've always been ... just a little less confused, a little more secure. I just hope to God I don't go stale on myself and turn into one of those lumpy-dumpy housewives who sit around in rollers & bathrobes all day, watching soaps and screaming at the kids. I doubt that I will. Hopefully next year, after the baby is born, I can look for a job or go back to school or SOMETHING, ANYTHING to keep from turning into Mrs. Raymond E. P., instead of Terri P., if you know what I mean. I have an identity to protect."
Evening:
Now it's evening and the sky has clouded over - threatening to storm. I just realized that I am becoming obsessed with this baby. Well ... maybe "obsessed" is too strong. Preoccupied, maybe. I'm beginning to think about him/her all the time.
Actually, it's difficult (impossible?) NOT to think about the baby, when he's thumping me 24 hours a day ... !!
Monday afternoon
September 21, 1981Don't really feel much like writing, but I'm sitting here at the kitchen table, and my journal is sitting right in front of me, and I don't have anything else to do ...
Stormy, cold afternoon. Bitter wind blowing outside. My nose and feet are ice cold. The house is neat and orderly ... the lights are on already because it's getting dark ... the news is on TV. Feels like home. I'm sleepy and content and waiting for my tea water to boil and my husband to come home.
Looking at two whole boxes of baby clothes ... all kinds of tiny little nightgowns and pajamas and pants. Miniature clothes. Doll clothes! Ray and I spent the day yesterday out in Fall City, at Don and Judy's, and I came home with a carload of Billy's outgrown baby clothes and stuff. Today I've folded and sorted them into two separate boxes - one for when the baby is a newborn (she just kicked me), and one when she's six months to a year old. I THINK. Actually, I'm just making wild guesses as to what will fit her when. I have no experience with such things, and it's hard to imagine exactly how small she will be at first, or how fast she'll grow. All the clothes look so incredibly tiny to me. It's hard to believe that most of this stuff will actually be too BIG for her at first.
Judy also gave me a baby seat, a wicker "Moses Bed" to carry the baby in (with a matching bunting bag), a stroller, a scale, a jumper seat, a diaper bag, a set of bottles and nipples ... and what else? An armload of books on pregnancy and childbirth, which I'm reading already.
Tuesday evening
September 22, 1981Evening. Another cold, stormy night. Ray is bustling around in the kitchen - putting away groceries, feeding the kittens, making our dinner of warmed-over potato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I'm sitting in the big old armchair, halfway watching "Laverne and Shirley," feeling extremely happy and cozy and content. I finally saw my o.b. today, and he gave me - AND the baby - a clean bill of health. I feel ten pounds lighter. (Figuratively speaking! Actually, I've put on FOURTEEN POUNDS since June.) All of my anxieties have melted away ... for the moment, anyhow. Tomorrow I'll probably start worrying about low birth weight or toxemia or birth defects. But right now - this evening - I feel very optimistic, and very close to the baby. I'm thinking of her in terms of "when," rather than "if."
Oh. And our next door neighbor can go suck an egg. I specifically asked Dr. Pheifer if I'm showing enough for this stage of pregnancy - 28 weeks, according to him - and he said yes, the baby felt just the right size and my uterus is in the correct position and everything is just FINE.
He gave me an antacid and some calcium lactate, to help with the heartburn and the leg cramps, and hopefully they'll do the trick. I get heartburn from just about anything now, especially coffee and Pepsi.
Friday noon
September 25, 1981A few days later. Busy. I sort of let the housecleaning go for a couple of days - too tired, too lazy - and today I'm trying to catch up, in between snatches of "All My Children." There's so damned much to do in the next three months. Today just THINKING about it all is overwhelming. Time to make some lists, I guess.
THINGS I WOULD LIKE TO DO BEFORE THE BABY ARRIVES:
- Paint nursery (yellow)
- Have wedding reception
- Get crib & chest of drawers
- Repaint my old bookcase and any other nursery furniture that needs it
- Get books back from Gram St. John's attic
- Arrange for diaper service?
- Have Mom, Gram S. and Deb out for a visit
Miscellaneous thoughts about the baby:
Why have you been so quiet today, little one? I haven't felt you moving much. Is anything wrong?
Am I going to see you being born?
Are you Jesse or Jamie?
Did you hear me singing to you while I washed the dishes today?
Saturday morning
September 26, 1981Just got up to answer a persistent knock on the front door ... turned out to be a process server! Guess I shouldn't have even bothered getting out of bed ... but now I'm up, and I might as well stay up. Made a big pot of coffee and fed the kittens. Now I'm sitting here at my usual spot at the kitchen table with a big mugful of steaming hot coffee, the kitchen door cracked open an inch, cool air on my bare feet.
It is a beautiful, sunny, pre-fall morning ... a "golden morning." Technically, autumn began on Wednesday, but it'll be another week or two before the true fall weather arrives ... cold frosty mornings and nights, clear crisp days, leaves changing color. I'm not attempting to be poetic here: I just love this time of year. I always have. Fall always feels like beginnings to me. A time of beginnings. Last year at this time I was falling in love with Ray and began a life with him; this year I carry our son or daughter inside of me. Maybe that's the truest "beginning" of all. Every day my baby - OUR baby - grows and moves and comes one day closer to joining our little family. She's moving right now, even as I write this. Maybe she hears the children playing outside and longs to join them ...
The other night I had another dream about having the baby, and even though the dream was as muddled & confusing as the others, I remember that I had a little girl, and that she was born healthy and perfect, and that we named her Jamie. The dream and the name have been going around & around in my heart like a song ever since. I'm definitely going to name her Jamie. I love the name. It's cute, without being "cutesy-poo," and it's slightly different without being bizarre.
I called Dad on Wednesday night from the bowling alley - Ray's league bowling night - and told him the name we've picked out. His only comment was, "No comment." He still wants me to name her Denna Jeanne, the name I picked out for my future daughter when I was thirteen. For some reason the name has stuck tight in his memory and he still wants me to use it. Honestly. He can be stubborn about the weirdest things sometimes.
Jamie Lynn? Or Jamie Lee? I've never been all that thrilled with my middle name, and I'm not sure if I should inflict it on someone else, except that it does have a nice ring to it when coupled with "Jamie."
Hundreds of odd, isolated thoughts come to me out of nowhere. Pardon me for my inconsistency. One minute I'm thinking about names, and the next minute I'm thinking about diapers, or feeding schedules, or the chain of motherhood that links me to my own mother, and her mother before her, and every other woman in the history of the world who has ever given birth. I think about my own mother a lot these days. I suppose that's natural. I long to have a talk with her, maybe while sitting here in my kitchen, just the two of us, drinking coffee. I'd like to ask her all the questions I've never had reason to ask before. How did she feel when she was pregnant with me? Was she happy? Was she excited? Was she scared? Did she love my father then? Did they look forward to my arrival? Did I kick and squirm inside of her? Was she hoping I'd be a daughter? Did she talk to me, or sing to me, while I moved around inside of her? Did she lay awake in bed at night next to my sleeping father, with her hands pressed against her tummy, waiting to feel my slightest movement? Did she wonder who I was going to turn out to be? Did she have dreams about me, and worry that something might be wrong with me when I was born? Did she fear labor? Did she think about death ... her own, or Dad's, or mine?I'd like to know about all these things. I'd like to hear about the day I was born - what she remembers of the actual birth, what her feelings were about the whole thing. I'd like to know what her relationship with Dad was like at that point. I'd like to know when she held me for the very first time, and what thoughts were running through her head at that moment.
I'm not so much interested in hearing about my early babyhood right now, probably because I can't identify with that phase of motherhood yet. I probably will later, after the baby is born. Then I'll want to know all about Mom's feelings and experiences during the first few months of my life. Right now I'm more concerned with pregnancy ... and labor. Especially labor.
Sunday night
September 27, 1981I am almost idiotically happy. We've been having thunderstorms, off and on, since last night, and Ray and I have been holed up here in the house with a roaring fire the whole time. Cozy, warm, comfortable, peaceful. Savoring every moment of this stage of pregnancy.
I worried that I wasn't "showing" enough
The kittens are curled up together in the rocking chair. The fire crackles and pops furiously; corned beef and boiled potato smells are wafting from the kitchen, fogging the windows. Dark wintery night. Bathrobe and bare feet. "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" on TV.
Monday afternoon
September 28, 1981Still raining. I love it. I've been bustling around the house all afternoon - washing dishes, picking up the Sunday paper, singing snatches of old Simon & Garfunkle songs, watching out the window for the mailman.
Later:
I've had a wonderful idea. Thinking about my mother the other day was what put it in mind - wishing I could have a long talk with her, and hear about her life and her feelings while she was pregnant with me. Maybe we will have that talk, sometime soon. I've already invited her to come out and spend a Sunday here sometime in October. Maybe we'll get a chance to talk then. But in the meantime I've been struck with this brilliant idea, and for the life of me I don't know WHY I didn't think of it sooner.
I'm going to put together some kind of notebook, filled with excerpts from my journals and my diary ... maybe some newspaper clippings, some pictures, some of my own poetry and cartoons ... all sorts of things that, put together, paint a picture of my life and the world around me during the nine months I carry my first child. Sort of a "pregnancy diary." And maybe there'll be a special page or two at the end, describing the actual birth, and what his/her first few days of life were like, etc. etc. etc. Right now I'm just brimming over with ideas, and I'm REALLY excited.
The point of all this, of course, is to provide Jesse/Jamie (especially if it's Jamie, and she's pregnant one day) with an informal record of my pregnancy, my feelings, my early married life with Ray, the earliest days of our lives together as a family. This is assuming, of course, that Jesse/Jamie has an interest in reading about such things ... but if this baby is her mother's child, a notebook like this will probably be of great interest in another eighteen years or so ...
I know that if MY mother were to present me with something like this right now, I'd go out of my mind with joy. I think everyone probably likes hearing about their own beginnings, don't they? Or am I just thinking this way because I'm pregnant?
Tonight the baby has been more active than ever before ... constant, vigorous movement for over an hour now. I took a hot bath a little while ago - is that the reason?
I love you, baby.
September 30, 1981
Wednesday afternoonI just saw my first autumn leaves of the season ... I was sitting here at the kitchen table with a Pepsi, getting ready to fix my hair and staring idly out the living room window, when I saw them ... almost a whole treeful of lovely oranges and golds and reds. For some reason this has made me feel just wonderful. Fall is here.
The baby has been unusually active the past couple of days, particularly early in the morning while I'm still in bed, and then again in the evening when I've settled down with a book or a TV show. All those little elbows and feet. What is he doing in there? Maybe he just can't get comfortable.
Ray is bowling tonight. I didn't go with him. I just don't feel like drinking these days.
Thursday afternoon
October 1, 1981The first day of my favorite month. October has always been a special time of the year for me ... some of the most important changes of my life have happened in October. In another week or so, in fact, Ray & I will celebrate the one year "anniversary" of our first date. Impossible to believe it's only been a year.
One year ago, the man who is now my husband was little more than an acquaintance ... he was my best friend's boyfriend! I was all wrapped up in a dying, nowhere relationship (with Billy) and Ray was the last person on my mind. I neither liked nor disliked him: I simply didn't care much either way. I didn't really know him. If I had any opinion at all, I thought he was a fool to be involved with Terri, and that was about it. Then he came knocking on my apartment door one night, out of the blue, and nothing has ever been the same.
Friday afternoon
October 2, 1981Bad night last night. Baby is getting so big that I couldn't make myself comfortable enough to sleep: I tossed and turned practically all night. Besides that, I was bothered by something Ray said before he went to sleep - he said that he "feels scared" whenever he thinks about the baby coming. I worried about it all night. I'm not even exactly sure what he meant, because he dropped off to sleep a minute later and we didn't have a chance to discuss it any further. What is worrying him? The money? The responsibility? The risk?
I had a moment of terrifying, blind panic as I lay awake in bed: I suddenly felt sure I was going to die in labor. Part of me - the rational part of me - tried to recall something I read earlier in one of my childbirth manuals, about how the female body is fully equipped to deal with the strain of childbirth. But laying there in the dark, with Ray sound asleep next to me and no one to take to, I couldn't shut off the fear. I've never been as afraid of death as I was last night. I've had fears before - that the baby will die, or that Ray will die before the baby gets here - but this time was different. This time I was thinking about my own death, and it was unbelievably scary.
As if that weren't bad enough, I had yet another panic attack later. Suddenly I found myself thinking, "What the hell are we doing, having a baby??" And that was even more terrifying than my fear of death. The feeling lingers today. We're not ready for the responsibility! I'm not, and Ray certainly isn't. We've barely been married one month, and in another two months we'll be PARENTS. We're rushing headlong into something we know nothing about, and I'm scared. I'm too young to be having a baby. I'm still a child myself! There's too much I have to do first! I'm too selfish to be a mother. I don't have the inner resources to devote myself to another person, wholeheartedly and unselfishly.
Saturday
October 3, 1981Better, a little.
Sunday night
October 4, 1981Better still. I've had a rocky couple of days, emotionally, but things have leveled off a bit and I'm more or less back to normal. The baby is thumping away inside of me, and I realize how very much I'm looking forward to her birth. It's true that her arrival is going to complicate our lives in ways we can't even imagine right now, but I would like to think that she will also enrich our lives in a thousand ways more.
Monday night
October 5, 1981Randy Wolf stopped by this evening for an unexpected visit. I haven't seen him since he moved to Whidbey Island five months ago, so it was wonderful to sit and talk to him. I miss him when he disappears for weeks or months at a time, but I have a feeling he'll forever be popping in and out of my life without warning. That's just his way.
Ray stayed home from work today with a bad head cold. We didn't do much of anything all day ... it was raining again, so we built a big blazing fire and re-heated yesterday's spareribs and corn for a makeshift dinner. Now he's watching a football game in the living room; I've got a TV movie on here in the bedroom. Sipping a glass of wine. The window is open, and I can hear the rain pouring steadily. Thinking. Baby is moving a little bit - he's been relatively quiet today, but then so have I.
Later:
Now I'm laying in bed next to my husband, watching the end of my movie, waiting for my hot dog to cook. I'm always hungry these days. I try not to worry about how much weight I'm gaining, but in the back of my mind there's always this gnawing worry about how I'm going to look after I've had the baby. I'm probably going to be FAT.
Smell of Vicks Vaporub ... Tony Randall and Lorna Patterson in "Sidney Shorr." Clock ticking on the wall. Fire still popping, out in the living room. Orange soda in a paper cup, no ice. Nothing on my hot dog but a tiny squirt of mustard.
Just woke up and turned on the TV - the first thing I saw on the screen was Frank Reynolds, ABC News Correspondent, looking grim. With a sinking feeling I realized that something terrible must have happened, and I was right - Egyptian President Anwar Sadat has been assassinated. What will this mean?
Wednesday night
October 7, 1981Baby is still very active. For some reason he seems to kick most strongly and most often on my right side, rather than the left. Under the ribcage, too. Sometimes it's hard enough to hurt.
Other things I've noticed:
* My belly button is different. It's bigger, deeper and flatter.
* The baby usually kicks most around 7 a.m., 1 p.m., 5 p.m. and 10 p.m.
* Sometimes my whole tummy suddenly goes very hard. It's a distinctly odd sensation.
* My fingernails are growing stronger and longer, but my eyelashes are falling out.
Ray is bowling tonight, but I was feeling more tired and uncomfortable than usual, and I decided to stay home.
Just me & CeCe & Sammi tonite
red balloon tied to TV
bare foot, cold nose
hot dog/vanilla ice cream taste in mouth
Thursday morning
October 8, 1981So damned tired anymore. I can barely get out of bed in the morning, and then I don't do much of anything around the house all day. I feel fat and sluggish.
The baby has been strangely quiet all morning long, barely a twitch. Naturally this has me worried, especially since she's been so busy inside of me all week. I'm just sitting here in the armchair with my hands pressed against my tummy, waiting and hoping for even one small nudge.
Had a terrible dream last night about miscarrying, although all I remember about it this morning was lots of blood. This hasn't helped my frame of mind today, understandably.
Today's easy agenda: wash dishes, pick up living room, make bed, put away laundry, pen pal letters to Debbie Short & Michele Manzo.
(AHA. Baby just started kicking me right in the middle of my belly at 11:30 a.m. All is well.)
Wondering what my life is going to be like next year, staying home with a tiny baby every day. It's so easy for me to be negative and think only of the down side - not getting enough sleep, changing diapers, all the extra work, the stress, the loneliness - and I wonder if I'm going to be able to handle it. Am I going to pay enough attention to her, or am I going to be short-tempered and resentful of the demands on my time? I'm so used to just spending my days as I please, with no schedules, no demands. When I feel like getting up, I get up. When I feel like eating, I eat. If I'm feeling particularly tired or sick or lazy. I ignore the housework and just curl up with a magazine. My time is my own, and I've been very happy this way. After the baby arrives, everything is going to change, isn't it? No more thinking only of myself. I won't be able to "ignore" a feeding or a diaper change if I'm not feeling up to it. There'll be no "forgetting" to do the laundry or making the formula. And on top of all that there'll still be dishes to wash and regular laundry to do, and all the rest of the housework. Thank God Ray does most of the cooking, at least. That's one less responsibility. And I think - I hope? - that he'll also help me out with the baby, and with the housecleaning, whenever he can. I know he doesn't expect me to do everything, because we've talked about it already. I guess that I'm lucky he's willing to help out, even on top of his own job at Western Kraft.
But still ... there's a lot of hard work ahead. I think I can handle it, but it's going to be damned hard in the beginning ... I realize that already. I'm going to be tired and cranky and preoccupied, and I'm afraid I might take it out on the baby. I don't want that to happen!!
I'm also afraid that the baby might come between Ray and I and affect our marriage in a negative way. I'm going to be so busy and so preoccupied with little Jamie/Jesse ... Ray will come home and want to talk about something that happened at work, or he'll want to go out for a beer, or make love, and I'll either be all wound up with thoughts of bottles and diapers and trips to the pediatrician, or else I'll be totally exhausted and "too pooped to pucker." Ray may begin to feel left-out of my life, maybe even left out of his baby's life, and it may makes things tense and unpleasant between us. Again - I don't want this to happen. I love my husband very much, and our marriage is so new and special still that it deserves a little extra effort on my part to help keep it that way. I must remember to make time for Ray, and to include him as an integral part of my day. Even when I'm dead tired and feel like crawling into a hole and ignoring the world. This is the advice all the books and magazines are giving me - "Take time to talk to your husband," etc. - and it makes a lot of sense. Whether it's going to be easy advice to follow remains to be seen. We've got rocky times ahead, starting our family so soon after our marriage, and I guess it's up to us to turn it into a blessing rather than an obstacle.
God. I sound ridiculously idealistic and naive, don't I?
But instead of thinking about all the negative aspects of bringing this baby into our home, maybe I should take some time to imagine the happier things that may happen as a result. I can't forget about love. The love it took to create this baby in the first place ... the love between Ray and I. My pregnancy has enhanced this love, without a doubt. The last few months, in spite of the physical discomforts (an enlarging belly, constant heartburn, leg cramps in the middle of the night) have had a very special, tender quality. Ray has become a gentle, understanding husband, even when I've been at my most intolerable. I've become more ... what's the right word? Content. Serene, almost. Not as flighty and unstable emotionally. More tolerant. More at ease in my role as homemaker, wife, soon-to-be-mother. I no longer feel that I've somehow let myself down by choosing this lifestyle rather than some other. Maybe adding the baby to our home is going to make things even better. Ray will become an even better husband and a wonderful father, and I'll feel even more content and fulfilled as a mother. (More idealism, but why not?) What I'm trying to say here, however clumsily, is that bringing the baby into this house is going to mean bringing more LOVE into the place. One more person to love. A whole family. The three of us. There's nothing wrong with having one more person in your life to love, is there? Love is all there is.
And what about fun? Isn't there going to be some fun involved, when we've become a family? Aren't babies supposed to be fun? A little tiny person to hold and tickle and play with and make funny faces at ... won't it be fun to watch her grow and develop? I can already see Ray & I, monitoring her every little development, talking to each other about each tiny step, marveling over every smile and goofy face. I can see Ray asleep on the sofa with the baby next to him, identical expressions on the faces of father and child. Or Ray squatting on the floor at baby-level, camera in hand, taking hundreds of pictures of that little face. Christmas should be fun with a baby in the house ... it will give me an excuse to do all kinds of silly things, like hanging stockings and paying visits to Santa Claus and stringing popcorn and playing Christmas music on the stereo. Snow will be fun. So will the zoo, and merry-go-rounds, and Walt Disney movies, and picnics at the lake. And all the other fun times, the quiet daily times ... sitting in the rocking chair with the baby in the early evening. Bath time. (HA HA! 6/20/82) Sitting on the living room floor clipping recipes or working on my scrapbook or writing letters, with the baby gurgling and playing beside me. Taking her to the bowling alley on Wednesday nights to watch Daddy bowl. Long walks around the block on sunny afternoons.
October 10, 1981Saturday morning. A beautiful, crisp fall day. Ray just left to go to the Western Kraft company picnic, and already I'm mentally kicking myself for not going along. I've had very little sleep the last few nights - last night particularly - and I chose to stay home and work on my pregnancy diary instead. Ray said I'd probably just be sitting around for six or seven hours at the picnic, which would be rather uncomfortable for me at this point. I guess he's right, but still ... I wonder if maybe it would have been nice to get outside and be around some people. Damn.
Well, instead of feeling sorry for myself, I suppose I should do something productive today. I've got the car, anyway (Dave & Cathi gave Ray a ride to the picnic) and a little bit of money. Maybe I'll drive up to Rose Hill and see if the office supply store is open. I can get a new typewriter ribbon and just browse around a little. We're also extremely low on groceries - the fridge is empty and the cupboards are bare - and I'm hungry. I could splurge and get some BBQ Kentucky Fried Chicken !! MMMM!!
Nights have been really bad for me lately, for a number of reasons. Last night I barely got three hours of sleep, I think. Ray came stumbling in at 2 a.m., drunk as a skunk, and promptly fell into bed & started snoring. To make it even worse, he has a cold and that makes him noisier than usual. This morning I feel ragged and run-down. The night before that, my own fears kept me awake. I honestly don't know which was worse - Ray's snoring or my late night paranoia. Among the things I worried about: the state of the world, particularly following the assassination of Anwar El-Sadat ... the AWACS controversy ... whether I should be bringing a child into a world as unsettled and threatening as ours is ... Ray dying before his child is born .. labor ... the Rapture occurring too soon ... the house catching on fire and burning to the ground, taking everything we own with it ... my weight after the baby is born ... Grandma and Grandpa V. dying before I have a chance to see them again ... money ... the kittens being hit by a car or a truck ... the baby being born with some kind of mental or physical handicap ... my own ability (or inability) to be a good, capable mother ....
Ad infinitum. I lay there in bed, staring into the darkness, as one by one each individual fear paraded through my head. It was dawn before I fell asleep: I wondered if I was losing my mind.
October 15, 1981
Thursday morningGot up earlier than usual this morning, and now I'm glad I did because my mother-in-law stopped by unexpectedly. She just left. Now I'm sitting with a cup of coffee, listening to the stereo, enjoying another cold, crisp autumn morning. Wondering how to best use this day. Ray gets paid today so he probably won't be home until very late.
My Grandpa Vert is dying. That was one reason Peg stopped by - she got a phone call last night from my mother, saying that he'd slipped into a coma. As it turned out, I already knew: Dad drove out on Tuesday for a visit, and he told me about Grandpa at that time. According to Dad, they don't expect him to live from day to day ... he could go at any time.
There is so much that I could write about all of this, but I can't right now. I've got to think about it first, and wait to see what happens in the next few days. This isn't going to be easy for me. If Grandpa dies, it will be the first time someone close to me has died. Grandpa has always been one of the special people in my life. So many of my childhood memories revolve around him. He was an integral part of my growing up, and it's difficult to imagine him not being there. I am saddened by the thought that my child will probably never know this wonderful, vibrant man.
I'll write more about the situation as it develops. Dad is going to take me down to visit Grandma on Sunday, and I expect that to be very difficult. In the meantime, I thank God for my new husband and for the baby growing inside of me ... they make this painful situation somehow easier to bear. Maybe it has something to do with the process of life renewing itself. As one life is ending, another is beginning. I'm going to miss my Grandpa more than words can say, and I'll never forget him, but feeling the baby move inside of me reminds me that life indeed goes on, despite everything.
Dad and I had a good time on Tuesday, in spite of our shared sadness over Grandpa's condition. We drove to the Goodwill store in Seattle to look for a secondhand crib. We didn't find one, but I did buy two darling little baby dresses - one pink, one yellow - just in case I have a girl! I also got a couple of paperbacks. Dad took me for lunch at The Royal Fork, and then I was home early enough to take a nap before Ray got home from work.
Since we couldn't find a decent used crib, Dad has promised to order us a new one from Sears. Please let this be one promise he makes good on!! (Note: He didn't. My mother wound up buying us a crib after the baby was born.) He has also offered to let me have his old chest of drawers to use in the baby's room. That means I still need a small nursery lamp, and then I SHOULD be all set, furniture-wise. I still have to get diapers, blankets, crib sheets, more bottles and nipples, maybe a bottle sterilizer? And what else? A waterproof sheet or two for the crib, maybe?
Dad took this picture of me standing in front of
my beloved Kirkland House, after our trip to the Goodwill
October 1981
Friday morning 10:30 a.m.
First cup of coffee
October 16, 1981Had another bad dream about the baby last night, but I don't remember anything about it this morning ... all I know is I woke up crying, loud enough to wake Ray up too, because he comforted me until I was able to fall asleep again.
Very cold, foggy morning. Fog is so thick I can barely see across the street. Drinking a freshly made cup of coffee. CeCe is purring happily in my lap, following her big breakfast. Listening to a tape I made yesterday for the party Ray and I are having tomorrow night.
"Ray" (right) and I at the house party we threw for friends & family
October 1981Ray was home unusually early last night. Ordinarily on payday he plays with his buddies at Dave's Place until all hours, but last night he was home at six. Kurt W. and Mike Myers stopped by for a while, and we invited them to our party. Ray was extra-tired, so I grabbed some money and the car keys and drove to Albertsons to pick up a few necessities (some frozen food, cat and dog food, milk, pop). When I got home Ray was undressed, in bed and VIOLENTLY ill. He complained of nausea and chills, so I hovered over him for the rest of the evening, making sure he was comfortable and warm.
Peg and Barbara are coming over for dinner tonight - Ray is making one of his cheese-stuffed barbecued meatloaves. So he'll be home early today. Then tomorrow night is our party, and I'm actually starting to feel nervous about it. All those people ... Ray's friends, really, not mine.
Wednesday morning
October 21, 1981Just haven't felt motivated enough to write anything lately ... don't know why. My life is in suspended animation. Time is passing very, very slowly ... each crisp golden fall day is identical to the one before it. Everything is centered around my house and my husband and the baby waiting inside of me to be born. Everything is still, quiet, waiting ... and, for once, the waiting ISN'T the hardest part. The waiting is easy and pleasant.
Just got up a little while ago to make Ray a pot of coffee and see him off to work, and now that he's gone I've decided to resist the impulse to slip back in bed. Sitting at the kitchen table watching "Good Morning America" on the portable TV, sipping coffee, sniffling. Fingers sticky from glue. Kitchen a shambles from last night's dinner, steak and "the works." Cold, frosty morning. Sun beginning to shine on the treetops. The tree across the street is now half-green, half-gold.
Didn't sleep much last night, as usual. Woke up in the middle of the night feeling bulky and uncomfortable, and I just layed there, tossing and turning for hours. Sometimes in the night, when I'm only half-awake, I think I hear a baby crying in the next room ...
I saw Dr. Pheifer yesterday for one of my regular check-ups. The nurse took another blood test, and to my dismay I found out that my blood count has dropped since June - from 34 to 30. No wonder I've been dragging it around lately. I've been ordered to triple my iron intake as a result. Everything else seemed to check out normally, I guess. I was weighed (have gained 3 lbs. since last time ... what does that make altogether? 16? 17 lbs?) and had my tummy measured and listened to the baby's heartbeat, which is still reassuringly strong and regular. There were some questions I wanted to ask the doctor - what position is the baby in right now? Why does he feel like he's lodged so high in my ribs? - but frankly Dr. Pheifer is so cool and aloof, I just wanted to get out of his office as quickly as possible. I don't like him. I know it may sound paranoid, but I don't think he likes me much, either. Yesterday he asked me AGAIN if I've decided to breast-feed, and he asked it in such a way that I felt guilty saying no, I'd rather bottle-feed. So I hedged and said I "hadn't made up my mind yet." Coward!
I wish I could switch o.b.'s and find someone more confidence-inspiring, but I'm so close to my due date that it's too late now. Dammit anyway.
My next appointment - INCREDIBLY - is not until November 17. I thought that during these last couple of months I was supposed to see the doctor more often - like every other week. Instead, he blithely told the receptionist to schedule me for the middle of November, at which point I'll be mere days away from my due date. This is just another example of Dr. Pheifer's disinterest: I just don't think he gives a damn.
Peg drove me to my appointment again, and afterwards we met Billy & Judy at Bellevue Square for lunch. Inch by inch I'm becoming more comfortable with my mother-in-law, even though her way of doing things & my way are so different. We did some "window-shopping" around the mall and looked at things for babies, and she is obviously interested and excited about this baby, and at the same time she seems to be genuinely concerned about me, too.
Time to take a shower, I think. (Noisy garbage truck in the street outside.) If I don't, I'll end up crawling back into bed.
Dishes - vacuum - make bed - put laundry away - pregnancy diary - list of things still needed for baby?
Thursday 11:30 a.m.
October 22, 1981Another rocky night last night, with barely three hours' sleep sandwiched in between bad dreams, midnight trips to the bathroom and reoccurring bouts of heartburn. It's practically impossible to find a comfortable position to sleep in. If I lay on my side or my tummy, the baby thumps and pounds against my ribcage in protest. And laying flat on my back feels stiff and unnatural. I finally got tired of tossing and turning and I tiptoed out the living room, where I sat with a glass of Pepsi and stroked the kittens and thought about things. It occurred to me that in a few weeks I'll be making MANY such trips to the living room in the middle of the night - and Ray, who could sleep through a hurricane, will probably sleep through it all. So I'd best get used to it.
I sense that Ray is going through a difficult period right now. Something similar to my own "Oh-my-God-what-are-we-DOING?" blind panic last month. It's nothing specific he's said or hasn't said: I can just feel a certain hesitancy, a reticence whenever I try to talk to him about the baby. It's almost as though he's afraid to talk about it. Maybe he's frightened. Maybe he's having his share of second thoughts. The reality of the responsibility involved is maybe beginning to hit home with him, jus
