If You Say So

Listening to: St. Lola in The Fields
“Unless you want me to, do you want me to?”

Currently Reading: Duma Key by Stephen King

Yes it is true.

I like to wash my hair at one in the morning.
I can (but try not to) finish a Cadbury bar in one sitting.
I enjoy alternative music.
If I can get away without brushing my hair in the morning, I do not.
I cannot hold my alcohol.
I occasionally snort when I laugh.
I am not cool.
I detest dog ears in books. Absolutely. Not. Always. Bookmark.
I babytalk to my dog.
I have never been for a massage.
I manifest verbal diarrhoea syndrome when tired, nervous or overwhelmed.
I sing in the shower.
I can be sarcastic but I immediately regret it and try again. A work in progress.
I cannot tahan Kristin Kreuk / Lana Lang and Horatio Crane.
I make lame jokes and laugh at it even when nobody else is.
I try very hard to be mature but sometimes, it slips away from me.

And yet love me or leave me.

There are things I can work on and others that are just plain me. If I begin to pretend to be what I am not and can never be, then who am I, really?

Now pardon me while I go dry my hair.

So in the words of the wonderful John Mayer
“Better to say too much, than not to say what you need to say.”

Red lights

Sometimes, when God closes a door – as in, firmly latches it shut with no possible way of going through it – I feel grateful because I know He’s going to open a window somewhere, if He hasn’t already done so. No questions asked.

If there is anything I have learned up until this point it is this – sometimes, we can try to be all we can be and still feel like we haven’t accomplished anything. And then, we try to be who God wants us to be, and suddenly the world opens up in front of us and the light comes streaming in as you stare, open mouthed and in awe at the change in your predicament.

When all it took was one decision to stop resisting and to be what you were always meant to be.

Baby proof

Listening to: Ingrid Michaelson
“If you need a light, I’ll find a match.”

I went for my very first Ob/Gyn check up last week simply because my mom felt it was at an appropriate age for me to start going. I don’t know what age that is, I just know I’m close to being a quarter of a century and that’s when things usually start happening I suppose.

It felt really surreal actually, watching all those pregnant, glowing couples walk and in and out of her office and there I was sitting there next to my mother in my jeans and ponytail. I was half afraid they would think I was some wanton young woman “in trouble”.

My doctor however, is so amazing. So… maternal. Very no-nonsense. She swept me into her examination room with inviting smiles which is so unlike those bright sterile places you see on TV where the woman lies back under harsh lights and bares all to some creepy doctor with a speculum.

Her room had this amazing dim lighting, potpourri and plush leather bed next to a monitor and other thingumajigs. She built up my medical history by asking me some basic and erm intimate questions and then did an ultrasound for me. I was in a bit of shock as I stared at the monitor and saw my entire insides staring back at me.

“Good good, this is your uterus, nice and strong.” And she shows me something that looks nothing like a uterus to me but I’ll take her word for it, she’s the one with the medical degree. But nice and strong are good words.

She swept around a little bit more and said, “This is your cervix, good good. Right ovary, perfect size. These are your little eggs…we are born with millions of them.” And although I nodded vigorously, yes yes lovely eggs, I couldn’t really see any, and definitely not ovaries, but once again she’s the doctor.

Then she toggled around a bit and for a moment I was afraid that this was the life changing moment when she announces that she couldn’t find a left ovary and I would be one of those uni-ovarian people (or whatever) but before I had reason to hyperventilate she found it and did her clucking, beautiful eggs thing.

One fallopian tube later and “Perfect,” she said with a huge maternal beam. And then I heard a voice from the corner adding, “Ready for baby.”

I didn’t know whether to die of embarassment or kill myself as I saw that my mother had sneaked into the exam room unnoticed and was grinning from ear to ear as though she could almost see her grandchildren. Unlikely at this point since I don’t even have a boyfriend but I’ll grant her her fantasies.

I thank God I’m in good health though, ovarian and otherwise. And I have to admit when I saw all those couples walking in and out of the office, it was definitely something I want to be able to relate to someday. So I’ll say it right now, I want the babies and the maternal glow and to read ‘What To Expect When You’re Expecting’ and to boss people around and tell them I want sauteed calamari from Italy now and not have them hate me because it is my right as a pregnant hormonal human-carrying vessel.

Call me crazy but my maternal instincts are kicking in these days and it’s not something I can deny just to appear cool and unaffected.

So yes, although there’s so much else that has to happen before we can get to that point, I figure why worry about the future when all we are is in God’s hands and all good things will happen in His timing.

At least I know that even though I may not be ready for baby, my uterus is.