This blog is in chill-mode, but you'll still find archived posts and book updates/events.

[ FAQ ][ Hunk Gallery ][ Knocktionary ][ Ask a DB Momma ][ Stillbirth Theme Song] [ Contact Me] [ KuKd: THE BOOK]

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Our Waitress is Carrying a Child

Hello, Wordsmiths!

It looks like we've got some nice vocabulary to work with - I'm going to let that post sit there and fester for a few more days before I return to it and recap what new words we learned/created. This KuKd cool cat (who, like me, has also experienced the infamous Blight of the Ovum, which - contrary to popular belief - is not a World War II battle or wrecked alien spaceship), is also on a vocabulary creation journey of her own. Be sure to check out her new contribution to our lexicon, BFA, which also includes a nifty graphic.

Moving on...

Have I mentioned that I'm on a road trip right now?

That's right - Kevin, Tebow and I are coasting along the freeway corridor connecting Washington to Arizona, via Idaho and Utah. Tebow is our dog, by the way, for those of you who are popping in for the first time. This is our spring break, and since realizing how easily and terrifyingly bad shit can happen, we've decided to not waste a single week of work-free life by sitting on our arses eating Cup-o-Noodles.

Here's how we do it: stock the back seat with food in a cooler, so that we don't spend any money on breakfast and lunch, and fill the trunk with beer and wine, so that we don't have to spend any money on drinks. After all, we all know that money spent at the grocery store, unlike at a bar or restaurant, isn't REAL money (Kevin doesn't totally agree with me on this, but hey).

Then, while Kevin drives (as the son of a Marine Corps colonel who flew those huge helicopter-like monstrosities in the Gulf War, Kevin is more genetically inclined to operate a motor vehicle successfully than I am), I wear my anti-nausea wristbands and type frenetically on my laptop, reminding Kevin to stop if he sees a nice-looking truck stop. I love exploring truck stops. To keep myself from projectile vomiting all over the keyboard, I drape a t-shirt over my head and the dashboard to make a little tent, blocking out the puke-inducing scenery whizzing by. Screw the pretty mountains and rolling farmland: this KuKd momma has a book to write, a blog post to churn out! Life is too short to look at the mountains!

Last night, we pulled into Boise, Idaho, which is where I am now. Boise's okay and all, but what I REALLY liked was checking into our anti-septic smelling motel room (I LOVE MOTELS!) and enjoying our own little low-budget happy hour, complete with cheap wine out of styrofoam cups and cans of beer, good conversation, and dinner at an Eye-Talian restaurant across the street. I told Kevin I wanted checkered table clothes, candles, a dark wood interior, and a humongous plate of spaghetti that we could share, using our mouths to play tug-of-war with one long noodle (does anyone else remember that scene from "Lady and the Tramp?"). It wasn't quite like that, but close enough.

Our waitress was carrying a child. Her belly protruded far enough to nearly hit me in the face as she lean over to refill my water. She was young and blond, with braces on her teeth and clear blue eyes. I looked at Kevin as she walked away and said, in my slightly tipsy-slurred voice, "Our waitress is carrying a child." He nodded and said "yeah."

That was it.

I don't know when it happens, at what point men and women start to veer off onto separate tracks with this whole KuKd thing. It just does. I'm not saying it's bad; I'm simply remarking that, at some point, the woman continues on with lasting issues of identity and self-worth that the man doesn't have. Or doesn't seem to have, anyway. Or maybe has, but in a different form that isn't expressed.

For me, the thought process goes like this:

I was there once, right where you are, waitress with protruding belly. Seen it, done it, got the t-shirt. I was even PAST where you are, even MORE protruding. My belly wouldn't have merely ALMOST hit a customer in the face. It would have knocked over the table with its hulking, honking presence, sending both customers flying across the room simultaneously! It would have made meatballs fall off their mountains of spaghetti with the forceful wind it created as I whizzed by. It would have made customers whip their heads around and stare, gaping at the sheer enormous wonderfulness of my pregnant belly! I could have served wine carafes on that belly, balanced this basket of rosemary foccacia bread on it, deflected bullets with it!

What IS it with this inexplicable desire to stand up and shout, "I WAS PREGNANT TOO, WORLD! I WAS PREGNANT I WAS PREGNANT I WAS PREGNANT!" Is it the same thing that an elderly war veteran in plain clothes must feel when he sees a young, freshly scrubbed soldier in fatigues walk by? Does he get the urge to shout, "I DID WHAT YOU'RE DOING, ONLY WAY WORSE AND MORE INTENSE. BOO-YA."

For the record, I did not stand up and shout anything at the Eye-Talian restaurant. I was a big person, a normal person with reasonable behavior. After Kevin said "yeah" instead of the "yeah, and I can totally see how that would bother you in an illogical way, you poor misunderstood thing!!" as I was secretly hoping he would, I let it go. The truth is: no total stranger is going to give a rat's ass about my past, my pregnancies, KuKd status. They can't, don't, won't.

I know that, but I reserve the right to remain pissed off about it.

The good news is that the dinner was delicious, and cheap - since we only ordered water. No need for wine at dinner, when an entire motel-fridge-full is awaiting us across the street.

15 comments:

Hope's Mama said...

Oh yeah, I have wanted to scream that quite a few times. So you're not alone there. And I'm with you on the "not real money". You make me feel less crazy all the time!

Monica LeMoine said...

Nuh-nuh-no, YOU (and other readers) are the ones making ME feel less crazy, Hope's Mama! All I do is put my crazy thoughts out there and hope that someone will go "yeah I get that." Fortunately, somebody always comes through. The only time it hasn't happened is when I confessed to the world that I secretly hate broccoli, even though I pretend to like it. I was met with some resistance there.

aliza said...

you all make me feel less crazy... i totally feel crazy when i see one of those women carrying a child and think i was there too..and now look at me, no baby in my arms, slung onto my front or back or nursing at my breast. it's all like a dream. maybe that's why we want to scream out 'dammit, i was pregnant too!'

bir said...

Oh I understand, Monica! How many times have I wanted to scream and shout it. It's unfair.

I hope that your road trip is enjoyable and that the pregnant women and newborn babies stay away from you for a while (sometimes it would be nice to have a little alarm to ward them off, yeah?)...

xx

Brenna said...

Spring break! YEAH! Better add some blue bull to that mix of grocery store wine and beer (actually, my college comrades and I have upgraded from blue bull to Sparks these days...Sparks Lite for the dieters like moi. ;). Have you tried that stuff? It's evil! High alcohol content PLUS caffeine. Woah. They didn't make that kind of nonsense when I was a college kid.

As for the knocked up waitress...sigh. I, too, have been there. The urges I resist involve screaming out that I was pregnant with THREE! Three, get that?! (Because really, when your body doesn't successfully carry the three, do you get to keep the bragging rights? Nope. Just the stretch marks.)

Coming2Terms said...

If you're writing like this while you're in a car, then I have even more respect for your concentration and ability to weave poignant passages. Totally agree that women and men process this whole experience much differently...and oh, those thoughts screaming in our head. Sometimes I think the world would be an incredibly provocative (albeit) noisy place if we could "hear" each others' minds at work.

Katie said...

BOO-YA! Made me LOL.

Heather said...

Are we allowed to wear our T-Shirts in public!? I want mine to say this:

I got pregnant.
And all I got was this
crummy T-Shirt!
Crap!

Me said...

It's funny that you said dinner was cheap, since you only ordered water. I about fell off my chair when I read that. The next sentence helps clarify, though.

Cara said...

Woah - you scored a motel with a FRIDGE? Well done - I'm ofically impressed.

Hell - I'd of said (screamed it) - that's just how I roll with this dead baby thing.

Lori said...

You are so not alone. I seem to hate pg people & they are freaking everywhere! I roll my eyes, decide that they are undeserving, and then manage to feel guilty. Maybe it is karma that I keep getting knocked down?

Enjoy your trip & the wine.

Lori

Dalene said...

Yep, I totally get that, but now that I'm repregnant and showing a belly, it's more in the form of "don't you dare think this is my first baby. I've done this before. I'm a pro at being pregnant."

Michelle said...

I totally get that for sure!

I hope you are having a great time! Enjoy yourself!

Monica LeMoine said...

SO GLAD that so many people get what I'm saying here! You can always count on fellow KuKd homegirls to vouch for your relative sanity.

mrs. r said...

i love this post. love it. i feel this way too, only as a sterile woman there is the longing instead of the comparing ...but oh man, many of the same emotions.

i am adding you to my list of infertility warriors on my blog. hope that's okay.

much love.