Sooooo pregnant, but far from giving up

So being pregnant ain't as easy as some people might think, on the other hand, I've found that my experience has not been as bad as many horror stories I've heard. I'm quite thankful for that believe me. So in light of these two sentiments, I decided to focus on some pluses and deltas in my life right now:

Pluses

1. I went to the NYInternationalLatinoFilmFestival today (my first film festival) and saw two documentaries and a movie-one was decent, one was pretty good, and one was very good, not bad for a first timer.
2. I went to said festival with TS and that was the best part, we got to catch up on our lives, good and bad in real time (as opposed to IM or email), and we even took a trip to City Island (another first for me) for seafood between films.
3. Though just about 8 months pregnant, I managed to survive a long ass day of walking, subway riding, more walking, and film watching in temperatures and humidity that made me change my clothes once and contemplate gouging my eyes out :-) I believe I drank about 4 bottles of water.
4. I will be signing a lease for a new apartment tomorrow!!! A 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom, with dining room, and balcony on a 2nd floor of a private house--best parts??? Same price as my current one bedroom apartment and NO BROKER'S FEE.
5. My baby shower is in exactly two weeks and my confirmed guest list is full of many people I love and many I'm not able to see often---including none other than my best friend and my son's godmother, Jrny_wmn
6. And finally, my baby is almost here! My son, who has no name because my fiance and I can't agree on one, will be called Baby Boy _______ for a few days. But either way, he is almost in the world and I can't wait. I'm still nervous, but honestly more excited than anxious these days.

Deltas

1. Instead of being fired from my job (not because of incompetence, but because of maternity leave), I decided to resign on Friday. Therefore, I technically don't have a job to go back to after I give birth--that is a separate post that I hope to complete in the next few days.
2. After being stood up again by my real father, I confronted him a little angrily over the phone...that was last Sunday and I've yet to hear from him since. There goes that attempt at reunification. That is also a separate post that I hope to complete in the next few days.
   
3. I owe my graduate school almost $2000 and until I pay it, my diploma is being held hostage. I don't have that much money and I can't get a loan to pay for it because my credit isn't "good enough" nor do I know anyone who can "co-sign". My credit is better than most of my family and friends', but still nooooooot good enough I guess.
4. It's getting a little harder to get up and down subway stairs with this big ass belly and a baby pushing up on my diaphragm (sp?). It makes me feel a little old and helpless, especially when you pair that with not being able to bend over to tie my shoes (or do anything for that matter), peeing millions of times a day, not being able to see my nether regions or bottom of belly and shirts (thereby missing stains or spills that others love to point out) and not being able to find a good position to sleep in...so while 2 months is a short time for baby arrival, it is also very, very f*cking long.

So yeah, that's my life--not all of it but the important parts--right now more pluses than deltas, thank you Jesus lol...thanks for listening/reading...or not lol, either is okay :-)

I am afraid of you

afraid of what i don't know
and what i might find out
afraid of continuing to tread lightly over questions of the past
afraid to go any deeper and learn the truth

i'm afraid to acknowledge the traces of an addicted past
your voice quite telling in the secrets it holds
the phrasings and questions of a person who's hustled for far too long
having hustled and been hustled, you're obviously a pro
afraid you're hustling me right now
hustling a connection
hustling caring
hustling love

afraid to look at you
and see me
afraid to look at you
and not see me
feel lost still with an unknown past
ancestors, heritage, stories, and anecdotes that explain a real part of me
currently on hiatus

i'm afraid of getting comfortable with a stranger
so inextricably a part of my life
afraid of the blood that runs through my veins
with it's love, hate, rage, and pain
afraid to discuss what's better left unsaid
addiction
abandonment
rehab
jail
sickness
death
of you, by you
of others close to you
What pain do you carry?
Do we have any common threads?
Can we see each other's scars?
Do we ever really want to?

i'm afraid of you
can't call it the unknown
because i have an idea
can't call it fear
as i push harder towards it
anxiety is not the word
doesn't fully explain

i'm afraid of you
and all that that may mean
i'm afraid of you
and what disappointment may come
i'm afraid of you
and finding your place in my puzzle
i'm afraid of you

the secret being...
i'm afraid i want to love you and be loved by you

And in case nothing else could make me nervous about getting closer to that due date...

So that's why I always get those looks...

You Are 24% Lady

You tend to make up your rules of etiquette, throwing all conventions aside. And while you try to be a lady (sometimes), your behavior is often quite shocking.

Are You A Lady?

I remember one of my younger sisters saying to me a few months ago, "That is not lady like, you don't act like a lady" (mind you, she's 18, what the hell does she know about...anything lol) and I said why not? She responds, "You curse too much, that's not lady like". What do I say? "Well, fuck that then, fuck being a lady, i'm a woman and I'm damn good at it".

But, alas, I see she's partially right-i'm only 24% lady. Feels mighty good to me though...

Corners

There's something about Harlem that drives me absolutely crazy

Not the cool air that moves through you if you step outside after sunset
Not the soul music that reminds you of an older generation unwilling to leave
Not the laughter from teenagers negotiating sex, love, and hip hop(or is it just sex?)
Not the bouncing of basketballs by young men just trying to survive and forget life's realities

Probably instead, it's a gentrification that just won't quit
Doesn't give a shit
Can't be bothered at all

Poverty just a corner away from comfortable wealth
Tree lined streets of brownstones
A hop, skip, and a jump from disabled homeless men sleeping on the street
Cute little trees and 'true diversity'
Professionals in various skin colors with the deep pockets to rent or buy
Old timers and natives need not apply

Garbage that flies around in the wind
Sticks to your ankles when you wear a dress
But never, never, never
Makes it around the corner
Somehow knows it's not wanted
Just like the homeless, disabled, drug addicted, and/or prostitutes
Who never, never, never
Make it around the corner
Somehow knowing where they're not wanted

Sometimes I think I'll scream
Tantrum and Fling
The nearest garbage can through a nice shiny window
Knock on the door of a renovated brownstone
And tell the occupants they're doing no one any favors
Reveal the secret inadvertently of course
That I am one of them
"Blessing" Harlem with my presence

A middle class social worker
Who's Latina at least, does that not count for something?
As I pay a rent that eliminates the possibility of that 'other' Latina living here
The one walking into the projects
Around the corner
With two kids, maybe one kid too many
Who isn't allowed to dream she can live in my apartment

We can both walk down the main street
Avoiding garbage
That never, never, never turns the corner
We can hold our breath as we pass the homeless men who have been lying in the sweltering heat
We can avoid the gaze of the police officer who's doing his best to keep 'us' safe from our own
We can pray for a neighborhood that makes sense
Instead of what exists
We can do and say as we please for as long as we want

But then we'll turn our respective corners
And realize that we live in two different Harlems
And the cool air
The soul music
The laughter
The basketballs
Can't make it around every corner

Last blog of the night promise

I couldn't help it, as Sonnets mentioned and Jrny_wmn proves blog quizzes can be addicting. Funny enough this one is quite accurate and I think I needed a light post after the last two.

You Are a Life Blogger!

Your blog is the story of your life - a living diary. If it happens, you blog it. And make it as entertaining as possible.

What Kind of Blogger Are You?

"You can't disappoint me because I don't love you"

Such a simple, direct pronouncement by one of the main characters in We Were the Mulvaneys (Joyce Carol Oates, 1996) and the character, Marianne, meant it with everything she had. There was no love lost, no hard feelings, nothing, just a matter of fact. So true that she didn't even say it to the other character, Marianne simply thought it to herself and externally laughed softly. When I read it, I thought it was perfect, another good line in a good book.

Unfortunately, I can say now from experience that it's not true. People that you don't love can disappoint you and I don't know that it will always hurt less than disappointment from someone you love. Perhaps there's more patience when someone you love does it, yes maybe the initial anger and sadness is stronger, but eventually you let it go because you love them. Not so much for someone you don't love. In my last post, I talked about trying to create a relationship with my real father (aka the sperm donor). I've promised myself that I wouldn't push too hard, I would let it ebb and flow any way it wants. So i've called a couple of times and he's called a couple of times. Not too shabby I'd say. Anyway, my birthday was this past Friday (yes I'm officially 23 and hotter than ever as one guy said to me today, "You are a beautiful pregnant woman, you sure are." I knew that already but random reassurance is nice sometimes lol)...ANYWAY, getting back to the point, my "F" called the Thursday before and said, "I know your birthday is tomorrow and I was thinking maybe we can get together on Sunday before I go to work". I was not expecting the call or the invitation, but I received both happily. We agreed to meet Sunday around 6 or 7 in Manhattan for dinner. He told me to call on Saturday to finalize plans, location, exact time, etc. So I did, got the voicemail left a message...and did it again around 4:30 or so today. And, well I got stood up--

And more than stood up, i got disappointed and I don't love him. I got disappointed and not in a way that happens when your friend cancels plans at the last minute, but disappointed in the way that happens when you tried to pretend that you didn't care about said 'date', yet went to do your eyebrows and got your hair done, and even put on a new outfit, why??? Because it did mean that much, because part of you was willing to take all anxiety and suck it up to face your 'maker' (not to be confused with your Maker-spiritual being who created you lol), because no matter what would have been said on that date, you wanted him to walk away thinking "she is amazing and I suck for having missed out on her life all these years". Because you can pretend that you don't care that he was around, but you did, even if it was just a little, because it left confusion in your heart and mind that you didn't even talk to anyone about for YEARS. Because you wonder...every so once in a while...what life would have been like with him-good, bad, ugly or indifferent.

In his defense, he finally called around 8pm, but I refused to answer the call and instead made plans with a friend (who also knew about the 'date') to go out for an appetizer and some ice cream. He rambled for a minute and a half and for those of you who have ever left and/or received a voicemail, a minute and a half is a loooong message. He explained that he worked later than usual, fell asleep, so on and so forth, apologized profusely and asked to reschedule with another day. It made me feel better to know that I hadn't been totally blown off, but at the same time I"m still disappointed. Part of me wants to call him and say, "You don't have many opportunities to screw up, you're 0 for 23 already", part of me wants to say, "Go to hell cuz I can't add emotional instability to my life, I'm fucking pregnant and imbalanced already!" and part of me wants to honestly say, "Dude, there may not be much you can do that will not disappoint me, so you might as well start now". There's truth in all of them and illogical thought processes too. I know that I will give him another chance, but I can't bring myself to call him, not tonight, maybe not tomorrow and if he asks if I was upset, I will say yes, because I'm not the lying or pretending type. But I will give him another chance and I'll know that it's possible that he will disappoint me...

and I don't even love him.

P.S. *shouts to UNO's and Cold Stone Creamery for eventually making it a good Sunday night for me :-)*

My Two Dads

So it's been a long time in the making, this post I mean, trying to figure out how to write it, when to write, why I should bother. And yet, I wrote it already-in the shower, on the toilet, in bed, cooking dinner, I've written this many, many times, but now I share it with you.

I don't remember what My Two Dads was about, at least not specifically. I know there were two White guys who were taking care of a nice, typical TV white teenager. I looked it up to try to remember the show and it came back a little. The two fathers had gained custody of the girl after her mother died-both had tried to gain the affection of her mother and when she passed were granted custody together. They fought because they had different personalities, they fought because raising a teenager will make you do that, they fought because it was in the script to do so, duh :-) Anyway, it was cute, innocent, & canceled in 3 years-Nothing like my two dads.

In this corner, hailing from Southside Brooklyn, New York, we have soon to be 42 year old Nuyorican "M". M is my step father who raised me since I was two years old, give or take a few months. Millions of miles from perfect, this is who I call Dad. He didn't graduate from high school, he's struggled with substance abuse for as long as I've known him, he's been violent and/or abusive to everyone in my home, from mom to grandma to every child and he's passive-aggressive in a textbook kind of way. He's also funny, generous, and downright vulnerable in a child like way. As a social worker, I think he has poor coping skills stemming from multiple childhood traumas. As a daughter, a sister, and a soon to be mother, I think he might be crazy. I think I would like to say that our relationship is like a roller coaster ride, but the truth is that roller coaster rides have beautiful, exhilarating highs and our relationship does not. I feel blessed when we're cruising along, able to laugh together and maybe only focus on superficial topics of conversation in ten minute intervals. I feel cursed, when all the rage I have in my heart comes rushing to the surface because of one look, one comment, one misstep, and all I can think is that if he disappeared off the face of the earth, I would be fine, fine, fine. But he's my Dad, and though technically he's not the only one I got, he is-because

in this corner, born and raised in Puerto Rico (where I don't really know) but in the United States since his late teen years, we have 40 something year old "F". Can you tell how much I know about him already? While "M" battled with substance abuse mostly in the form of alcoholism (with some dabbling in coke use over the years), "F" found heroin to be his drug of choice and an ugly mistake if I've ever seen one. Therefore, "F" has been in and out of jail and/or rehab over the years and not even a small part of my life. I know I saw him sometimes as a child, but can't remember. My mom just told me they both lived together with me for almost a year of my life, I didn't know that before. And the one time I saw him that I could remember, I was 17 years old and couldn't speak to him because I didn't have the words and apparently neither did he-it was very awkward. That was about 6 years ago. I'd like to tell you the positives about him, but I don't know them. Maybe he's funny too. Maybe he's generous. Maybe he's kind and maybe he's smart. No idea. But ever since, I got pregnant I decided I needed to know him. I need to know the good, the bad, and the downright ugly because for better or for worse, his blood runs through my veins and his essence is part of my unborn son's. So one day, maybe a month ago I got his number from his mother, found out we were both in New York City, and called him. Over the course of this past month, we've talked a few times, trying to stitch together a broken past, a distinct present, and an unsure future as father and daughter. So many questions that need to be answered, so many answers that I'll wish were left unsaid, so many sighs of exasperation for a relationship that may never be what it could have been.

See because the truth is, I technically have two dads, neither of which is perfect, but both of which are mine. And I don't know what this ever meant, what it means now, nor what it will mean later. I only know that for most of my life I believed I had a "Dad" and a "sperm donor", pardon the crudeness, but that's what I thought. And now, I'm trying to accept that I may have two dads, may because my real father may end up disappearing from my life at any moment, may because my stepfather may be completely hurt if he finds out I am talking to my real father and then we'll have to deal with that, may because I might come to the conclusion that this young woman here can only handle one flawed, painfully human Dad at a time. I guess only time will tell.

Should I just call this the Pregnancy Chronicles???

Partially kidding there, but I really wanted to get another post in before June was over, but noooo can't stick to that deadline can I? nope, well i have a pending post that I promise to do sometime this week on *$#@(#!%--haha, it's a secret lol...forgive the rambling, but

PLUS+ EQUALS=

THIRD TRIMESTER (yeah, my belly is growing faster than a cockroach infestation and my hair looks a little like that, but darker and much longer-thanks hormones!)

anyway, so i'm a little frazzled, but i'm trying to maintain the "i am so cute, you almost don't notice i'm pregnant, except that i'm getting huge" look, you know skip maternity clothes and use normal clothes in an extra large and lots of dresses and cotton capris...until later, may the peace be with you all--


and me, especially at night when I have to pee for the 335th time :-)