My Dr. leaves in a little while for two weddings and a reunion, right over our due-date. I want this baby to come before she goes. We were doing loads of walking to try and encourage the process, but then I caught this really terrible cold/flu bug. As if being this heavy and uncomfortable wasn’t bad enough - now I’m suffering with this, too! I can’t remember the last time I had a cold/flu bug this bad. I broke 100 degrees F last night and have been living on Tylenol and Gravol.

So, living on Tylenol and Gravol just freaks me out. I never take it more than once every 4 hours, as recommended, and my doc says it’s fine, but gosh, this baby. She’s slowed down a little. I can’t help but worry. This is the kind of person I am. I’m not sure if I actually have the flu or not, it could be that the cold suppressing my appetite is setting off my hyperemesis. If I don’t eat every time my stomach is empty or close to it, I get stomach sick. Problem is, my body is just not telling me it’s hungry! Thus, the Gravol (and my staple, Diclectin).

Anyway, the fever is controlled now. Small mercies I suppose, I still feel like a wreck. Two days in bed this close to delivering when I still have so much to do … bah! It’s ruining my chances to get outside and get walking to help things along.

I guess a nice, cool bath is in order now. I should probably eat too - even though I find the idea of eating somewhat repulsive right now. I just want this baby to come out so I can hold her and know she is safe and healthy. The anxiety over not knowing is just killing me. There has been nothing to suggest she is not fine, but …

Well, I guess we wait and see. The sooner the better.

Basically, they give you an iPod with a headset and you listen to the story while you walk through the exhibit.

As a little bit of background, while I’m not all that worldly to the point where I know it all, I do know a little about the AIDS pandemic. Anyone who has gone through an anthropology undergraduate degree does, or should. I know a little bit about a lot of pressing world issues, things that would (and should) frankly horrify people. I feel it is my responsibility to know these things happen and do what I can to educate myself and people I know about the small changes we can make in our lives to assist (if, for whatever reason, we are limited in our capacity to make for greater change).

I feel strongly that, while anthropology is (typically) academic, and the “Ivory Tower” mentality exists among many scholarly anthropologists, that we should be feet-on-the-ground-hands-in-the-dirt (not archaeologically speaking!) dealing with these things in an applied sense. I think one of the biggest and best things I could ever do in my life would be to provide space for marginalized peoples (minorities, people with AIDS, people with mental illness, whatever) to be heard themselves. I think they should be talked to, not about.

So, I wasn’t coming into this entirely unprepared, and perhaps even a little desensitized, because this is a big passion in my life and I feel everyone should have a voice and I have heard some of these voices. The story of the woman, Olivia, was very touching, but unfortunately not at all uncommon. The message of the exhibit was good and succinct: Education to dispel myths about AIDS/HIV will help with the pandemic, and we should all do what we can to help.

However, on exiting the exhibit, we had to return our headsets and iPods. On handing it to the gent, he asked what I thought. I said I thought it was very interesting, and said thank you. He asked if I wanted to sponsor a child.

Now, I had thought this was a UN exhibit (for some reason; pregnancy brain, how I rue thee), but it was World Vision. Throughout the exhibit, I had seen a number of things encouraging people to donate. In the past, my family has sponsored a child, but as we barely scrape by ourselves (let’s see - $5000 on the overdraft, $2000 on two VISAs, $40,000 in student loans, and $17,000 in our vehicle, with education to go, living on student loans!) we simply couldn’t afford it.

I said no, that unfortunately I can barely afford to sponsor myself. It was my attempt to lightly dismiss the question, since there really is nothing else I could say. For starters, I am not wearing my wedding rings (my fingers have expanded to the point they are no longer comfortable), I am 7 months pregnant, and I am not wearing particularly lavish clothing. A pair of runners, some old pilling yoga pants, a sweater that doesn’t do up over my baby belly, and a $6 tank top from Old Navy.

What does this “gentleman” have to say to me? “Oh really? That’s interesting. It’s only $1.33 a day.” Yes, isn’t it interesting that I can’t afford $1.33 a day. $1.33 a day that in a month would turn into $37.24 (assuming the month is only 28 days long). Another bill to add to the cell phone, car payment, groceries, and rent. And baby supplies, many of which we simply don’t have yet. Another bill to pile up while we wait for my husband’s lawsuit to be processed so we can finally see our day in court. Another bill to pile up while I wait to give birth and already feel guilty that I can’t be a part of the work force and bring home a paycheque.

So, my experience in the exhibit was utterly ruined by this tactless fellow and his superior attitude that I should be contributing $1.33 a day to the plight of a child in Africa.

This is not me saying to not give to those in need. I would never say that. If I had the money, I would sponsor a child. If I had the money, I would do a lot of things to better the lives of a lot of people.

For now, I will focus on feeding myself and my family, growing a healthy baby and preparing for her arrival. I will continue to educate myself and one day I will educate my child. And maybe one day we can make a change that will help people that so desperately need it. But today is not that day, regardless of what some fellow at the AIDS exhibit has to say.

It is unfortunate, but even many of us here in first world countries are struggling with rising grocery costs, and in our city of beautiful Victoria, BC, the expense of simply being here. This is not a cheap place to live, but our university is here, and thus, so are we.

I think an important first step to take is to try and not be judgemental of other people and their decisions. This is a lesson he would have done well to learn.

I guess I’m getting into this kind of late in the game, since we only have 8-10 weeks or so until her arrival, depending on how early or late she decides to be. She? We keep calling the baby that, but the ultrasound technician wasn’t entirely sure it was a girl. We’ve been banking on it being a girl ever since then - and we have a lot of pink clothes to prove it! - but I guess we could be surprised yet. Either way, things will work out. Everything else we have that is “baby” is neutral, like the crib bedding and the cloth diapers, because we plan to have more than one. Were it to turn out to be a boy, I would still hang on to these little girl clothes and hope that one day we do have a little girl.

But for now, while we assume (dangerously?) that this is a girl, we call her Hannah and we enjoy every minute of her. She is growing like a weed, and having recently discovered my belly button, is more fun than ever to interact with. Poking my belly button (which is now very much an outie!) while she is awake will get her to poke back. She is head down, and has been for about 2-4 weeks now. When she returns the pokes, we have been trying to figure out if she’s using the entirety of her hand or her foot. She pushes quite hard, with what seems like it could be her entire fist! Jay sat and felt it for quite some time the other night, and was amazed at how active she is now, and how strongly it can be felt. This morning she repeated her poke fest, and I periodically would poke back and then remove my hand to watch. It’s like something out of Alien, this little fist trying to reach through my abdomen.

It’s kind of a weird conflict of interests. I like her being in there, and feeling her move, but I dislike how uncomfortable I am at any given moment right now. I like that’s she’s (relatively, barring all disasters) safe in there. But I would really like to meet her, dress her, carry her around, all that stuff.

She is kind of my experimental baby, in a sense. After months of illness at the beginning with the hyperemesis, I spent a lot of time “researching” and figuring out what kind of parenting/care styles I liked the best. I don’t know if any of them will work for us, and I’m sure you never know until you try it. Regardless, we’re going to try cloth diapering, baby wearing, co-sleeping, extended breast feeding, and the whole shebang. One of the things that intimidates me most is the kind of flak we might take from the rest of the world, uneducated as they might be.

I remember in Primatology learning that humans, as primates, don’t spend nearly enough time breast feeding as another equivalent great ape would. So the breast feeding is arguably the one I feel strongest about, and it is arguably the one I’ll get the most flak for. But nature is nature. Our bodies were built to provide nutrition to our young, so I hope to avoid formula. Like all things, though, this maybe won’t work out either - but with encouragement and persistence, I hope it will.

Ironically, I’m about as far as it gets from being some kind of grass-loving hippy, but going back to basics isn’t always a bad thing. The world would do well right now with some progressive minds at the helm. I guess if saving the environment and nurturing our children are hippy ethics, I am a hippy. I wonder where I could get some cheap hemp maternity clothes?