More observations on living with Ziggy.
I have been very blessed so far in this pregnancy – only mild digestive discomfort from time to time (the occasional heartburn, not feeling super-hot after too much ice cream or a rough bus ride but never fully nauseous), tired but usually able to make it through the day (although there have been a couple of close calls in afternoon meetings), no major acne or pain or bleeding or extra swelling or other icky stuff that happens to a lot of women during their first trimester.
The good and bad news of that is I haven’t been able to get much sympathy or coddling from my husband, my mom, or really anybody from my family. I haven’t really needed it, and too much coddling makes me self-conscious, but even just a little worrying would be nice.
Actually, there are two people that have been worrying over me, but unfortunately they’re not the people I’d really choose to have worry over me: my mother-in-law, and my dad.
My MIL, as I’ve mentioned before, is a wonderful lady and I’m very excited to have her as a grandmother for Ziggy. Well, mostly excited. She is a little hands-on and will definitely let you know if she thinks you need to do something, or do something differently. That said, thankfully she has already lived through two other grandchildren and has learned to back off, a little. We also had a very long talk right after she found out and I think it got a lot of worrying out of her system.
My dad, on the other hand, has not had grandchildren before, and after his initial shock has suddenly gotten very excited, and worrying about me. He has been looking for something wrong with me and my pregnancy since I told him I was pregnant. He has called least once a week since he found out and asked, “How are you feeling? Are you okay? Are you sick/puking/ill?” On the plus side, for the first time in over two years he has not brought up my dead sister in every conversation and how much he misses her. Considering I was his favorite when she was alive (not a label I’m proud of, I’m just saying), it felt very disingenuous and frankly just annoying, at least after the first year. So it’s a slight improvement for him to be interested in me again, but the focus on whether or not I was broken and suffering was also a bit macabre for my tastes.
However, his need for something wrong with me actually worked in my favor. As mentioned before, I have been diagnosed as having a gluten intolerance of some kind, enough that I should avoid it if possible. Even though I have had the diagnosis since July, I have not bothered to tell him since a) I don’t see or eat with him that often, and b) he has a hard enough time accepting things about reality he doesn’t like (he doesn’t believe in ADHD, despite having a wife and child with it) without me throwing some new “fad” disease out at him.
He is also the kind of dad who invites himself to your first housewarming or 30th birthday. He technically asked, but in a way where I was going to need a really good excuse to tell him no, like I was going to France that week. Both my mom and husband told me I was a grown (and pregnant!) woman and could tell him no for whatever reason I chose. I was all ready to tell him no, too, but then buckled at the last minute and instead said I had stipulations, hoping that the sympathetic dad would be listening and not the narcissistic-to-the-point-of-insanity dad:
“Hey Dad. So here’s the deal: you can come, but there are a couple of things you’re going to have to work around.”
“Because I’m pregnant, I’m going to need to take lots of naps or just downtime.” (really just an excuse to get away from him for awhile).
“Of course!” (so far so good)
“I’m also going to be throwing a big birthday party on Saturday, so you’re going to have to share me with people that day, including my in-laws.”
*Whines* “Oh, really?” (uh oh, we’re hitting a bump)
(Quickly changing the subject) “And I’m not eating wheat right now?”
“When I first went in my doctor did some blood tests on me, and found that I was having a bad reaction to wheat and suggested I cut it out of my diet. I was also getting puffier a lot faster than I should have been, and since cutting it out I feel a lot better.”
“Sure, ok, no problem.”
Ah-ha! Success! The statement above was created out of two truths combined into a tidier-but-less-truthful story, but he bought it hook, line, and sinker. Now I didn’t have to explain to him any more why I wasn’t going to eat that piece of baklava, and it gave him something wrong with me that he could “watch out” for. So thank you Ziggy for giving me a reason to not have to defend my food allergies to my dad!
I am really hoping the actual trip goes as well as that phone call. Somehow I doubt it, but he is so unpredictable I might just be surprised (in a good way).
As of next week I will officially be entering my 2nd trimester. Hooray! I’m super excited to see how Ziggy and I continue to get along. Feel Ziggy’s first kicks, sing to my belly, and finally finish telling everyone!