The Belly of the Beast

October 12, 2009

The pregnant middle SIL had severe back pains around 9:00 pm. Her young husband had gotten very tipsy earlier in the night at a football game. She couldnt stand up with the pains, much less climb the stairs and her shouts and yells were not rousing him. By the the time Wifebian and I got there, he was awake and we drove to the ER. We met little sil there. Wifebian and I left around 3 am before middle SIL had even been seen by a doctor. We woke up at six to an uninformative text saying that the ER didnt do anything and she was going to her doctor today. According to Drs. Internets and Google, it could be normal, it could be a UTI or it could be a (second) miscarriage.


When I got the call from the ER that my father had died, middle SIL was in town visiting. I woke Lauren up and drove to the hospital. It wasnt until we were in the parking lot that I told her he was dead. I think, if I get pregnant, I will want to hold the cards very close to my chest for some time. I havent quite pegged why I did what I did when he died, but my information is mine, the voice in my head tells me. And it has to become throughly mine before I give it to someone else. OK, I get it. Power and control. (I love how writing helps me explore reality, literally access concepts that are otherwise unaccessible to me. It’s like wearing glasses.)

Wifebian and I havent talked about our values when it comes telling people we are pregnant in the 1st trimester.

In other news, I got a call from a coworker on Friday telling me that she is “being investigated” by the agency and might not be employed with us by Monday. She was all kinds of defensive and immature, talking about how the “West Indian” was going to come out of her. I hate it when people of color attribute feelings of irrationality and anger to their racial or ethnic heritage.  Seriously.

I have yet to share half of the horror stories regarding employees at my quaint little for-profit social service agency. Also, there is paperwork at this place for no paperwork. Like, if you don’t have the correct form, you have to fill out a form explaining why. And get it signed.

I am in the belly of a mythical beast of which I have only ever heard tell.