The Gestation Will Not Be Televised: Notes on Not Writing About Being Pregnant

Ceci n’est pas mon enfant

 

I have a pregnancy app on my phone. It tells me, week by week, which fruit my progeny most closely resembles (currently eggplant, in case you were wondering). It also blurts out daily tips on what I need to do (today I apparently need to buy a new bra). One of the daily nags that keeps popping up with regularity is the suggestion that I should start a pregnancy blog to publicly detail the many glorious changes taking place as I incubate my eggplant. With regular photos of my bump as it gets bumpier, for everyone’s viewing pleasure. That’s the other regular nag that comes up.

Yeah, no.

As someone who meticulously detailed most of the first three or so decades of life in various paper and electronic formats, I’m finding myself inexplicably, vehemently, disinterested in writing about or documenting in any way this current development. I haven’t even bothered to keep notes in a private journal. I’m the person who felt compelled to write about my daily drive to work in Istanbul, the butchered fowl of my street in Shanghai, my lunch in Morocco, my hotel apples in Hangzhou– and yet I have no desire to write about the curious science experiment involving the growing bag of frenzied weasels embedded in my midsection.

 

Celin - Chickens
Or, for examples, chickens in a small village in Kapadokya, Turkey

 

I’m frankly surprised, to be honest.

It’s not that I’d anticipated a burning desire to tell the world about the minutiae of intimate changes taking place, nor did I assume I’d feel compelled to create a week by week bump growth photo gallery here or on Facebook. I’m not that kind of girl. I like to keep private things private, for the most part. I did, however, think that I’d be sufficiently motivated to at least document it somewhat for my own future interest. A private diary; a photo album in my computer. Reflections on something unfathomably life altering and, although universal, utterly new to me.

But no.

This is not the most interesting or difficult or ultimately identity defining thing I’ve ever done, nor is it the most pressing issue I’m trying to sort out right now.  I am not my bump, or at least I am wholly myself plus bump. The bump does what it does without much input from me. Right now, it’s a lot more sticky-outy than it was a few weeks ago, so I got some new shirts to deal with that. Mr Scary Skull Face Kicky Pants has been thwacking away from the inside on a regular basis, like the predictably gestating angry eggplant he is.

There’s not much more that needs to be addressed at this point. Nothing worth writing about, beyond what I’ve just noted.

When people see me or write to me these days, often only the subcutaneous proto-child (or my pregnant state itself) is noted and addressed, and a disconcerting amount of talk then seems to shift to a) what cravings I’m having (none, thank you), b) how extraordinarily large the kid is and by extension how vast I am (he isn’t and I’m not, thank you), c) how I need to get sleep now because I’ll never sleep again, d) how I must be all weepy/moody/swollen/waddly/whatever (nope, nope, nope).

I feel like I’ve stopped being me (remember me? the one who reads and cooks and travels and writes about mops and sometimes does cool scary stuff?) in the eyes of a lot of people and have become some archetypal, predictable, pathological Pregnant Lady/Mom figure. It’s boring. My waistline is not interesting. My inner hormonal and physiological shifts are not interesting. They certainly don’t warrant blog posts or even Facebook updates. Do you know what does? The awesome experimental breads I’ve been baking. Living out in the deep woods of Vancouver Island, in the minimalist little house I grew up in, warmed at night by the cast iron wood-burning stove, surrounded by a world I had hastily left behind two decades ago. The multiple journeys to Vancouver we’ve been taking to get a million official, bureaucratic things sorted out, with free time to wander around Chinese night markets, to hike in the woods, to explore groovy neighbourhoods, to see old friends.

 

IMG_4241
Lake Cowichan is lovely at this time of year, you know.

 

I’m trying to recognize how quietly, immensely amazing and daunting and life altering this whole baby thing is without forgetting that it is just one of many amazing (and daunting and life altering) things that has happened (and is happening) in my life, not the sole defining one.

My guess is that what happens next- when the kid is finally born and we finally find a country that will take both of us and this whole weird period of hiatus/stasis is resolved- will be what’s worth writing about.

We shall see.


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8 responses to “The Gestation Will Not Be Televised: Notes on Not Writing About Being Pregnant”

  1. Heather Avatar

    Tell me more about these experimental breads!!

    1. MaryAnne Avatar
      MaryAnne

      I’m delving into the super slow rise, fermenty, no-knead yeast doughs right now. If you leave the flour/water/yeast/salt mix out overnight, about 18-24 hours, then blorp it out onto a floured countertop and gently fold it over itself a few times to form a ball, then let it rest another hour or 2 under a tea towel, then either cut it into mini baguettes or ciabattas or whatever and bake them on mega hot (like 475-500F) for about 15-20 minutes, it’s AMAZING. I’ve taken to dividing my dough into 4, and stretching the 4 blobs into 1 inch high, 6 inch long strips, arranging them on a cookie/pizza sheet, letting them do their 2nd rise, THEN (this is key!!!), brushing a bit of olive oil on them, sprinkling sea/kosher salt (just a little), then making deep thumb prints along the length wherein I insert halved cherry tomatoes (open side up) or minced roasted red peppers. Gorgeous.

      3 cups (430g) flour
      approx 1½ cups (345g or 12oz) water
      ¼ teaspoon (1g) yeast (for whole wheat I used 1/2 tsp)
      1¼ teaspoon (8g) salt
      olive oil (for coating)

  2. Christine Gilbert Avatar

    I was really ambivalent about writing about my pregnancy too. I think I announced it and that was it. Even in the year after, I was like, um, okay, baby blob, you are super boring, you’re not going into the blog!! So that first year we traveled everywhere, but I never wrote about Cole. Then he got bigger and took over my life, then I had the second baby and it all went to hell from there, posts with baby bumps and cute clothes she’ll where and updates on my pregancy — all with number 2. I think if I have a third people will be like MORE KIDS?? SHUT UP! But I am kind of happy I have photos of my bump and I took the time to record that, because if I wasn’t doing it for the blog, I probably would have never of done it. Of course everyone is different, you might start writing baby love poetry after he is born, with lazer cats and all.

    1. MaryAnne Avatar
      MaryAnne

      We have got some photos of me and my bump over the past few months (it only really popped in late September), but they are private and casual phone photos. It’ll be nice to have them later. It’s funny- although I’m very hesitant to document it all, either privately or publicly. The photos were Michael’s idea, which is cool. Privately, as a family, we’re all quite happy and fascinated and excited and nervous- but balancing it all with a ton of other things (like finding a country to live in, work, etc). I have a feeling it will be very different after the baby actually comes. For now it all feels very hypothetical… Not even laser cats…

  3. Edna Avatar

    I love this so much. and a huge thank you for not posting inane updates all the time; for not becoming your bump. If I ever grow an eggplant of my own one day I want to be just like you/this about the whole business.

    1. MaryAnne Avatar
      MaryAnne

      Aw, thanks, Edna! I just can’t help but think this is a really private thing and that it isn’t really of any interest to anyone but us. There’s so much more out there to talk and think about…

  4. debbie ann Avatar
    debbie ann

    THANK YOU, a million thank yous. I am sick to death of mommy this and baby that and food blogs that turn into baby food blogs etc

    1. MaryAnne Avatar
      MaryAnne

      You are very welcome. I’ve lived a long enough and varied enough life to vehemently resist being defined by my current adventure of sorts. I’m going to keep on writing about everything and anything that catches my interest, though with a kid tagging along. I’ve been going through a lot of heavy thinking about exactly what you’ve noted (and which I wrote about) and want to approach it all with self awareness and a strong sense of context (i.e. billions of women have kids, the world keeps spinning).

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