pregnancy week by week

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Once Upon a Time.

So my friend Ashley ( told me I should write a blog because I write well. However having read many people's blogs I realise that is actually not a prerequisite to writing a blog (not directed at you Ashley). I woke up this morning, or rather I got an elbow in my kidney and snoring in my ear from my unrousable fiancé who at this moment is sawing logs, god bless his pickled liver... anyway I woke up this morning and began reading Ashley's blog and thought to myself, hey this could be fun, I like reading about Ashley and in mentioning her in my blog I hope thus she will mention me! So this is a flagrant act of narcissism.

However in all sincerity why write a blog? If not for the simple act of catharsis of putting (sic) pencil to paper and revealing my thoughts to my community of friends and family, then for the ability to maintain a historical archive of this rather extraordinary journey into motherhood. But oooo boring snooze zzzzzzz... I say the word mother and I feel an overwhelming urge to take a nap. My therapist says that when we talk about difficult subjects we are not ready to face, a common defence mechanism is to fall asleep. I say bully to defense mechanisms (other defense mechanisms include neurosis, intellectualism, humour, regression and the one I most often encounter in people -- repression and reaction formation). NOTE: you will be tested later on your knowledge of defense mechanisms.

But actually deep inside, I want to gossip about family and friends but if I talk about my family, well I enter into forbidden territory and need to weigh my rather infantile desire to complain with having to be a reasonable adult and accept that people are the way they are, look past whatever behvaioural details and take notice of the love and generosity that exists. Yet, having been trained in the ancient art of therapy I can smell family dysfunction at 20 paces, I feel a tingling sensation at the base of my spine when I am in the presence of triangulation, my ears start ringing when I can smell the brimstone of enmeshment AND using the powers of the force (for those who are therapists have a high mitchlorian count, we are much like Jedi) I can see through people's armour and recognise their weapon of choice. For example, the ever piercing dagger of "guilt trip", the bitter nostrum of "I'm your mother you should listen me", the velvety seduction of "we love you, but...", the infuriating "I'm her mother and I can say whatever I want" and who can forget the classic paternalism of "you shouldn't be doing that, we know better...". And what do I learn from this? Will our child when he or she gets married and bring home their future soul mate who when first setting eyes on me will think "gadzukes I have inherited a Monster in Law!!!" If history tells the tale then I suppose I am the latest in a long line of in-law sagas which extends a unbroken chain undoubtedly back to caveman days where they would argue about how to slaughter a mammoth, how to skin a rabbit, how to cure meat, how to properly gather berries and I can almost hear the echo through time of "NO that's not how you start a fire you caveman, here give me those stones you useless neanderthal!!!!". But why do I get so triggered? why do I even care what family thinks and says about me? well because they are my family!!!! and in writing this there is simply no solution. Thus I shall I suppose continue this experiment and try to find ways to constructively channel my energies without offending or being self serving.

At this moment Marc is still snoring. It sounds a bit like a grist mill and a jet engine. I count my blessings... at least he's alive.

However if I am completely honest with myself, I'd rather have my family than be alone, I'd rather have my mother than be motherless. I'd rather have my in laws because without them I wouldn't have Marc, without them I'd have a lot less support and not be able to experience their world, and their values. One of the great things about growing up is learning that at a certain level it doesn't matter how my families act, what they do, right or wrong, stupid or enlightened, I just love them because they are my family, they are loyal, they are fierce and would I really be so different were I in their shoes???. It's not always logical, it's not always rational and certainly not always beneficial but as my grandmother always taught me, you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. So upon retrospect I think any vinegar I feel I should be let go for, the temporary satisfaction that comes with whining about family would be replaced by the dull ache of feeling foolish and childish. The reality is I am about to encounter the other side of a fence, a developmental mile post in many people's life... the parent side of the fence, the mother side of the fence, the married side of the fence. Nothing triggers me more than the words Motherhood, Wife, and Daughter in Law. How do I claim those roles as my own, maintain personal integrity, not slip into the pitfalls of patriarchy, paternalism and the dull seduction of routine, doing what's easy, following what everyone else does? Well first of all I will NEVER drive a minivan. And... I will write this blog as a testament to me (see narcissism!).

A brave new world stands to be discovered and I embrace all elements of it. Grace and gratitude are my motto, humour is my sail, love is my steadfast companion and friends & family are my witnesses. I hope you join me on this journey, if not for my writing skills then for my company. For like back in the caveman days after the fires got lit, the mammoths were slaughtered, the meat got cured, sitting on soft rabbit fur sheets and drinking mulled berry wine, they would talk, tell stories, play with their children and love one another. I pay homage the ancient human tradition of sharing and squabbling for without it none of us would be here. And the little one inside me is just the latest drop of water in the bucket of life.

So I will clean up last nights mess, make Marc a cup of tea and be myself, future wife, mother, companion, friend, lover, daughter, in law and now... blogger.



  1. Well done! I thoroughly enjoyed the read and feel like I know you just a little more...thanks!

  2. welcome to the blogoverse! or blogosphere.

    love to you from calliope

  3. I love it and I will definitely be working on a blog all about you.
    I have our address in my bookmarks.
    I love the way your mind works!!

  4. OMG.... it's amazing how many templates you go through in a weekend... lol... anyway... bully to your defence system... get all the sleep you can... and I look forward to you gaining an understanding why your Mum fusses so much and Dad, well is Dad... As all i can say for being a parent, I'm taking my inspiration from, my parents, and this poem.

    Philip Larkin - This Be The Verse

    They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
    They may not mean to, but they do.
    They fill you with the faults they had
    And add some extra, just for you.

    But they were fucked up in their turn
    By fools in old-style hats and coats,
    Who half the time were soppy-stern
    And half at one another's throats.

    Man hands on misery to man.
    It deepens like a coastal shelf.
    Get out as early as you can,
    And don't have any kids yourself.

    [oops... too late!!!!]

  5. i love it!
    kiss, lara

  6. good poem man in van!

    i like this template the best liz :D

    let's hear it for the parents.

  7. hey...what about the sister?? What? No mention of me?? oh wait, right...this isn't about me. Dang...
    I can't tell you how excited I am to be crazy aunt Suz!! I don't plan on having kids of my own (sorry folks, just not my bag) so yes, I will live vicariously through my sister. But who knows, maybe one look at the drooling bundle of joy might send my ovaries into overdrive! Hard to say. Aw crap, I went back to me...sorry.
    Liz, you are my hero and I can't wait to see you as a mom, wind the child up on lots of sugar and pass back to you!
    Love you