stella989's Blogs: I Was a Ye-Ye Girl,Cry Me a River,Curry.,Karma?,On My Mind. (Random),My BF Can't Decorate. Etc.,Moody.,The Son.,How to end a fight.,The Son. Part 2.,Worries.

I'm thinking about seeing a therapist because I can't take my boyfriend any more, and I'm not sure if I'm being hormonal or irrational, or if I'm right. I feel like I don't want to be around him any more, that I just want to be alone by myself locked away somwhere until the baby comes ... I'm so tired of his ex-wife / son drama. I feel like I'd be better alone. :(

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Last night the boyfriend told me he's worried that his son will be jealous and view the baby as an enemy. He finally confessed that the son actually resents me already because he has the feeling that I'm taking his father away from his mother.

These are all normal feelings for a child of recently divorced parents, but I honestly feel like maybe if he and his ex wife changed their rapport, the son would have less resentment towards me, and there would be less worry about the son hating the new baby.

My boyfriend and his ex-wife don't speak to one another except when the boyfriend goes to the ex-wife's house occasionally for dinner to see the son. (While I have my own issues with his ex-wife and going to her house every time he wants to see his son, that's not concerning to me for the time being, I'm more worried about the new baby.) I told him that maybe if he and the ex didn't give the child some sort of hope that they would get back together by pretending to be a normal family, and that if the son would come have dinner with me and the boyfriend instead of him and the ex, then maybe it would be easier for him to accept me and his new little brother or sister.

Finally, I realized I've had enough tension about this ex-wife / son crap. I told him that at 10 years old, the child is too old to be jealous, and needs to accept the situation. I'm sick of this. It always starts with me being calm, then I get frustrated and lose patience. Honestly, I feel like saying he's your damn kid, you deal with it, and don't bring him around if he won't accept the baby. I wish I were more patient, but I'm not right now. My focus is this baby, not his son.

I hope things change for the better ....

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So, the boyfriend and I got in a fight yesterday ... well, more like me being hysterical (with reason) over something. He admitted this morning that he was wrong, but I couldn't let it go. I told him that if it were just me, we could break up and move on, but now that there's a baby involved, things are different. I wonder if it's possible that becoming maternal has turned me psychotic?

So, we went to the doctor to do the sonogram...I didn't talk to him in thecar or the waiting room because I was too angry. When the doctor called us in, she asked me to sit up on the table and lift my shirt over my stomach ... and just all casually, she put the goo on my stomach, and then on the screen, the little baby appeared!!

The boyfriend and I were both really emotional and teary, but the fight ended there. The little baby is so perfect ... she (or he) has little hands and feet and kept wiggling around and OMG I can't believe it ...

They don't celebrate Thanksgiving here in Italy, but this has been one of the best Thanksgivings of my life. :)

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One great thing about the boyfriend is that he is a wonderful father to his 10 year-old son. That child is his life. He would (and does) do just about anything for that kid. I don't know the son very well, and I doubt that he even knows that we're together.

The ex-wife knows that we're exprecting a baby ... apparently she's not very happy ... I'm trying not to think about that because it just infuritates me. He hasn't told the son yet, and I'm terrified of his reaction. Normally I wouldn't give a second thought to the opinion of a 10 year-old ... but this is a little different. He's an only-child and although his parents are separated, it's clear that the lives of his mother and father revolve around him. How will he react to that changing? Is he going to hate me? Is he going to hate his little brother or sister? Is it going to be safe to have the  baby near this kid when he can't even hold our cat properly? How am I supposed to act?

And the one HUGE nagging thought that is boiling underneath but I'm too chicken to bring up to the boyfriend ... is our baby going to take a back-seat to his son? Because I can deal with a lot of things, but not that...

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My moods are all over the place. My sister said she can tell from my emails that I'm hormonal. I'm trying to control myself, but I'm not sure how successful I am at it.

I have the first sonogram Thursday to hear the heartbeat. I keep trying to focus on that ...

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I do forgive my boyfriend's lack of taste in the decorating department, to a certain extent. After all, he is a man, and since he's divorced, it's expected that his house is lacking a woman's touch.

But my God. Can you PLEASE clean the limescale and the mildew out of your shower, or do you enjoy little colonies of germs growing in there? Who in the hell put up stickers of little blue beta-fish on the walls in his other bathroom? Are turquoise sea-shells really the best choice to stick in the bottom of the tub to keep from slipping -- was it beyond you or your ex wife to choose a neutral color? Why do you constantly allow your kitchen to suck?? Can't you get a dishwasher, color coordinate a few things, maybe go to Ikea and buy some matching pots and pans, and update your 15-year old cutlery? Can you think in color a little more? And what about his son's room that has gone untouched since the child and the mother moved out? The train set, the bedding, the puzzles and books and the dresser filled with random socks and expired children's Tylenol? And why, oh why, do you continue to live in this building that from the outside looks like it could be a college dorm? Granted, such buildings are a common sight in this country, but can you show just a little good taste?

I can't imagine that this is not just where he wants me to live, but where he also expects us to raise our kid. And what am I supposed to do? Tell him I want him to move from the house he's lived in for ten years? I wouldn't have even had that right two months ago when I wasn't pregnant.

I keep idealizing America right now. I want my child to have green grass and a lawn and a wooden house (NOT an apartment, like everyone has here), I want my child to speak English and to celebrate Halloween and Thanksgiving and the 4th of July, I want a child with that American sense of what is right and wrong, and not the Italian mentality of "bending the rules is the only way." I want my kid to have Kraft singles, to live in a country where everything is possible, where stores are open 24 hours and where no one says "I'm sorry, it's not possible," simply because they don't feel like working or are having a pissy day and don't want to do their jobs. I don't want my kid growing up in a dingy apartment in friggin Borgo Venezia in Verona, with stupid blue fish stickers on the wall and having a nursery that used to belong to some other kid.

I know I'm just having a bad day, but I feel overwhelmed today. I want to go home.

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As I was sitting in that green-walled room, staring at the dingy linoleum floor, a door suddenly opened. Thinking it was the gynecologist coming out to call me in, I looked up, only to find myself gasping. A woman walked out of the office ... she was already heavyset, and her t-shirt had been rolled up just below her enormous breasts. Just below that rolled-up t-shirt and her rolled-down sweat pants bulged a giant hard belly, as big as two basketballs, so round that it looked as if all the skin around it would rip away at any second, and traced down the center by a line so black it looked charcoaled in. The woman waddled like an elderly person, as if she were ill, a pain grimace across her face with every step she took. I stared at her belly in horror and began furiously checking my watch trying to calculate the probable functionality and failure rate of the morning after pill if I took it right at that precise moment.

I don't know how pregnant the woman was, or why she was at the gynecologist's office, or where she waddled off to. All I knew was that if I wasn't called in soon, I was going to break down the door of the gynecologist's office. I swore to myself that I'd buy Plan B in bulk in the USA when I next returned home.

Now I'm pregnant, and that woman comes to my mind over and over again. I'm terrified of being that big, of having that much pain in taking a simple step, and wondering how long I'll have to endure a similar condition.

I'm even more afraid of what comes after...

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I have to confess something. Ever since I lived in New York, I've harbored a dislike for pregnant women and new moms. I'll never forget being almost shoved off the sidewalk by women pushing massive strollers as if they were the only ones in Manhattan trying to get somewhere, or having my foot crushed by a pregnant women pushing twins in a pram. Then there was my big sister's constant fretting over where she was going to get her next meal through both of her pregnancies. Oh, and my best friend constantly exploding about the most minimal things during her pregnancy. I always saw pregnant women as fat chicks with a sense of entitlement.

God, I was stupid. I smell everything. The smells make me want to vomit, then I want to cry. I snap at my boyfriend over the smallest things. Sudden movements and loud noises make my hair stand on end. I feel like people should drive more carefully when I'm on the road because, after all, I'm pregnant. I feel like no one understands how I'm feeling, and the only thing that makes me feel better is knowing that my little princess in there is going to need a good lunch. Or dinner. Or snack.

This has got to be my karma for being so self-centered in the past. That's fine. I can handle that. But that's the thing about karma: it comes back ten-fold, doesn't it?

I suppose eventually I should be honest and admit that there's a lot more drama in my life than I'd like to have ... things that would probably not be there if I were home in America instead of Italy. These things aren't helping. I can take my karma, I fully deserve it. But I'm worried that all of this negativity is hurting the baby ... I'm going to have to change something ... I can't let my moods be in complete control.

Becoming what you always disliked is one thing. Going completely ape is another.

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Sometimes I hate this country. I had a doctor's appointment at 5pm yesterday -- the doctor gave ME the appointment -- and after waiting an hour, over which time she saw random walk-ins, I had to leave to get to work. I was happy to get out of that waiting room. Photographs of babies everywhere, Anne Geddes posters covering the walls, an offensively loud Shakira ringtone on the office phone, all of this in the office of Verona's supposedly best obgyn. I left livid. The boyfriend was calm and patient with me, although once again I was in tears over this doctor issue.

Called my original gynecologist whose appointment I'd missed on Monday. The receptionist told me that an appointment opened up for next Tuesday morning, which is good news. I want to be with the doctor I know and trust, one whose waiting room is cool and pristine, well-lit and welcoming, with relaxing pictures of nature and magazines in both Italian and English .. but a place you'll never spend more than 15 minutes waiting in.

I can't wait to ask this woman the million questions I have on my mind. Did the two glasses of wine I drank before I knew I was pregnant harm the baby? Isn't my boyfriend just being silly about thinking the cat is bad for the baby? What in the world should I be eating? And why is CURRY the only thing that is getting rid of my nausea?

Until Tuesday. Bisous.

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