Ah, Mother's Day is upon us. I feel that it's somehow not an applicable holiday this year, although Hallmark assures me that expectant mothers deserve a shout-out, and, being broke from heavy first-quarter expenses (IVF and a big tax bill), have decided just to do cards and phone calls on Sunday. I also told D. that I did not want any PG-related acknowledgment, and I meant it. It's unnecessary after all we have been through, and all we have received.
Usually we spend Mother's Day at his grandma's house, but this year it isn't happening, which kind of sucks, because I could really go for barbecued pork steaks. Instead all the women are going to a baby shower for his cousin on Saturday, and the men will have their BBQ and drink beer. Except for D., who has to work, which also sucks.
I don't know what to think about the baby shower. I don't like baby showers and have managed to drink my way through the past few. Pregnancy itself isn't a very effective tranquilizer, at least not after infertility. Mel said it very well in her BlogHer post. (Thanks for the quote, Mel!)
I wouldn't say I'm superstitious. We spread the news quickly, and whatever happens now does not have anything to do with our early announcement. If D. and I stop by Babies R Us and check out double strollers, which we totally did (and D. looked damn sexy test-driving those strollers!), or if we tell the carpet salesman that we're looking for something for a kid's room, we have not jinxed ourselves or the twins.
But many things feel totally off limits. Baby clothes being one of them, at least for now. And there will be baby clothes on Saturday. Baby clothes for a baby girl, which I would love to have, although I know I'm not supposed to have a preference. And little shoes. And probably a copy of Guess How Much I Love You. And sentimental cards. And all sorts of things that will make me smile shakily from both joy and fear. Joy that I am pregnant, finally. Fear that I might not have two babies in my arms a year from now.
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By the way, this week I read My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult for my library book club. It's about a 13-year-old girl, Anna, who was conceived using IVF and preimplantation genetic diagnosis (PGD) to be a genetic match for her older sister, who has a rare form of leukemia. Anna's cord blood, leukocytes, and bone marrow have been keeping Kate alive long past all expectations, but now Kate is in renal failure and a donor kidney is the last option. Anna decides to sue for medical emancipation. I tried to overlook the fact that PGD was not easily available in the early 90s, as the book seems to suggest. (The first unaffected child was born in 1989 in London.) I really disliked the girls' mother from start to finish, but especially in two parts: Anna's birth (told from the mother's perspective) and her final courtroom speech about how people can't understand basically anything heart-wrenching or conflicting until they are mothers, blah blah blah. I've heard that before! And then the book ends with a very upsetting twist. I cried and screeched "Fuck!" So I'll be interested to hear what other book club members think about this book. They're a pretty outspoken, cynical bunch, but most are parents or grandparents, and they might find the mother more sympathetic.
It might be an interesting choice for the Barren Bitches Book Tour.