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I should warn you--if you watch Sex and the City, and haven't seen this week's episode yet, this may spoil it for you. Keep reading and be forewarned...
Anyway...
Sunday night, I sat in the living room and watched Carrie and Berger do the Hollywood Kiss, take a break, get back together over carnations (my grandmother's favorite flowers, by the way) and go to bed. Then I watched him break up with her via post-it-note, and I had to laugh. At last, someone else who's gotten a stupid little written break up! I'll take it where I can get it, even if it is on TV.
When I was a freshman in high school, I dated my friend Stephanie's brother. I've mentioned in here before that we managed to swap around relationships amongst my friends (even at HSBF Scott's engagement party, I wasn't the only former HS romantic partner in attendance!). Adam was no exception. He dated Laura before me, and Pam after me, though that's getting ahead in the story. He was a year behind us in school, and Pam's brother Mikey's best friend. He played soccer. His games were among the few sporting events I attended in my Sharon school system history. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, and my memory tells me there were dimples in his cheeks, but I don't know how well I trust that memory. We started dating because Adam got his sister to aske me out. I should have recognized the trouble then.
My ninth grade diary is full of Adam's name, with great big I (heart) exclamations around it. Our "relationship" mostly consisted of talking on the phone and a couple roller skating outings. I remember circling the rink with Adam and Mikey during a singing trio, not wanting to be too loud because it might offend him. I remember a lot of bike riding, too--to his house after school, to the soccer field, to wherever I thought I might come across him.
The fateful Saturday, Laura and I rode our bikes to the mall. I wanted to buy the soundtrack from Purple Rain, and Good Vibrations had it on sale. When we got home, Mom handed me a phone message from Mikey. Odd, but not out of the question. I called him back, and he asked if I'd found Adam's note in my driveway. We hung up so I could hunt. It was behind the car wheel. I unfolded it's small football shape and read it, first to myself and then out loud to Laura. Adam was breaking up with me.
I ran into the house in tears, leaving Laura to explain to my mother why I'd let the door slam behind me.
Two days later, he and Pam were a couple. My father referred to him as Ad-dumb for months. Actually, when I think of him now, that's how I still think of him.
Since that time, I've been in a lot of relationships, most at least marginally more successful than that one, but it takes the cake as the oddest breakup I've ever experienced. No idea what happened to Adam. Last I heard, he and his pregnant girlfriend had moved in with his parents, but that was years ago. And until Berger left Carrie a note saying, "I can't, I'm sorry, don't hate me," I'd pretty much forgotten about him.
Thankfully, the memory now just makes me laugh.
On a different note, much more relevant to Things Today in my Life, I've passed the 25-week mark. Last Tuesday was my most recent doctor's appt, proving that I've gained 14 pounds thus far, and that my blood pressure has continued to retreat, now measuring at 86 over 56. They don't seem concerned, so I'm going with the "no concern is necessary" theory.
Wednesday, the Husband and I ventured in to labor and delivery for our level 2 ultrasound. The baby is healthy, measuring a week larger than dates, with a big head and long legs. Betsy said to the Husband, "I'm not surprised--you were a very solid baby!" Just the kind of thing an expectant mother wants to hear about her gene pool!
The doctor also told us that we're either having a boy or the girl with the biggest clitoris ever. Either way, I see that as trouble! It does, however, look as though this will be William David, not Emma Daisy.
It's been a full week since we got the news, and I've hesitated to come in here and write about it. Hesitated because I'm not sure exactly what I want to say. Of course I'm thrilled that the baby is healthy and thriving, and that, for all appearances, everything is going well. And it's not that I will love Will any less than I would have loved Emma, but...there is a piece of me that was really, really sad at the news.
My grandmother and mother had an incredible relationship. So do my mom and I. I'm sad that I've lost the possibility to have that from the other end for myself, at least this time around. And the truth is, I don't know that there will be a next time around. Not that I want Will to necessarily be an only child, but---you never know. I'll be 33 when he's born. And even IF I do have another, there's no way of knowing that it wouldn't be another boy. And saying that out loud makes me feel horrible and selfish, so I've just hesitated on saying it out loud. But that doesn't make it go away.
I'm sure this child will be wonderful. I just didn't realize how much I really believed he would be a she until I was told that he wasn't.
And admitting that makes me feel like something of a failure as a mother, three and a half months before I even meet my child.
Haven't figured out yet what to do about that...
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