Devotion

I need to explain myself. Why would anyone in her right mind wish for the Red Sox to lose? Normally, the devoted wife of a die hard fan would do no such thing. She might be a little irritated by her husband's general agitation and moodiness, sure, but it happens every year. She might tell him he better chill out because he's acting like a lunatic and it's driving her nuts or insist he watch the games anywhere else but home. But, to utter such blasphemy -- even with all of his hat throwing, foot stomping, and swearing at the television and scaring the cats -- was never something I thought I'd ever do! As bitchy as I can be sometimes, I would never go that far -- unless, unless, unless I was seven months pregnant and feeling overwhelmed by everything we still have to do. It's hard to have any sympathy for your half-crazed husband when you are half-crazed yourself. About things like finding a pediatrician in the next six weeks who supports homebirth, promotes exclusive breastfeeding and doesn't think you're crazy when you don't want to shoot your baby up with vaccines -- but also takes your crappy HMO. About finding the time to gather all the supplies we'll need for the birth, while wondering which of our bowls would be best to catch the placenta and what the heck do we need a phone book wrapped in a plastic bag for? And, about lots of other things like signing up for breastfeeding classes, assembling the crib, getting rid of junk in our tiny apartment to make room for the baby and all the wonderful gifts that are arriving, scheduling more and more frequent prenatal appointments, attending our birthing class and actually doing our homework for it, calling day care centers (who can't seem to keep us on their waiting lists) and trying to figure out if a nanny would be a better option. Not to mention that we both work 40-50 hours a week, including the occasional weekend, and have just a few free hours just a couple times a week to fit all this stuff in around all the regular chores and errands, like folding the mounds of laundry scattered about, shopping for toilet paper so we don't have to resort to paper towels yet another day, cooking meals that will make our Bradley teacher proud, reviving my half dead, neglected plants and taking care of those damn cats! I'm sure all of this is nothing compared to what's it will be like when the baby is actually here rather than kicking around inside me all day. But, the other day, I was at my wits' end and I took it out on Matthew.

Today is a new day. We went to our birthing class tonight. Matthew wore his Red Sox hat and shirt to class. Very cute. We learned a lot as usual and ended with a very nice positive birth affirmation exercise that made us feel all warm and tingly. Luckily, class ended just a half hour before the big game started. The very important game. I know. I know! And, luckily, the bar where he is watching the game tonight is right between our class and home. So, I walked him to the bar, kissed him goodnight and wished him luck, hoping that tonight he comes home in a good mood, knowing that if my wish comes true I will certainly witness more nights of hand-wringing anxiety over the fate (or destiny?) of his (our) team. But, he looked very happy when I said goodbye to him tonight and that made me happy.

One night not long ago, I was very angry with Matthew because he was going to miss one of our birthing classes. He had forgotten and scheduled himself to work. I was pissed because I signed us up way in advance and gave him the schedule way in advance to avoid such conflicts. Of course, I was so angry and disappointed that I started crying. As I sat there crying, Matthew got more and more frustrated with me. He said something like, "I don't know why you are so upset. I have to work! There's nothing I can do." I felt a little silly about my blubbering. All kinds of responses went through my head to justify my behavior, but then it hit me. There was a good reason for my tears. "I'm pregnant. I'm upset and I'm pregnant and that's why I'm crying. It's OK that I'm upset because I'm pregnant and I deserve to cry." And, Matthew listened to this, paused for a minute in silence and then finally said, "You're right. I'm sorry."

Go Red Sox! ~ Nicole