The Joys of Pregnancy

 

...And the pregnancy goes on. The fainting at least has subsided, so there's a plus, but the promised energy boost after 12 weeks seems to have missed the bus... and it must be one of those old horse-drawn buses, since I am 19 weeks now and still can't bring up enough energy to walk more than 5 minutes. Which is exacerbated by the fact that I get breathless after walking only a few steps. And going up the stairs means usually that I choke at the end of it, despite several breaks in between the two flights up to my flat, and have to force a bit of water down my throat through the choking and the exhaustion tears, which so far seems to be the best way to get my breath back under control, well, after a while. Good thing is, my hubby is now on constant duty to carry my bag and coat up ahead of me, which makes it slightly easier to manage the stairs. I can only say that I'm glad that this part, where my bump is just a bit bigger, is now in winter where I have to wear all these thick clothes. Once the bump weighs a few more kilos I think we would need a crane to get me up those two floors, walking will be impossible!

Oh, and another joy I have discovered, excuse me for mentioning this, I know some people will frown upon such an indelicate subject, is the impressively varied farting, from painfully explosive to sly and unpleasantly odoured. It seems pretty everything I eat gives me wind, which has a knack of appearing at the most inappropriate moments. Seriously, my level of shame has been so much reduced by now due to helplessly having to endure unstoppable farts in public, I wonder if I will ever be allowed back into normal society... The alternative, keeping them in, is unthinkable. Tried it, and the pain makes me double over, sometimes even without me trying to keep it in but simply having wind trapped... Another thing nobody has ever mentioned to me before about the joys of pregnancy. 

The silver lining I keep reminding me of: all of this will go on the list, and when she is a teenager and annoyed like hell by her mum I will present her with all the things I had to endure to get her that far, see who wins the annoy-the-other contest!

So much for those pregnancy stereotypes...

 

Let me start by saying that this is my own experience, and that I am aware that other women have other experiences, some better, some worse. I am saying that because lately I have come to realise that when it comes to pregnancy suddenly everyone has an opinion, no, not just an opinion but KNOWS what it is that has to be done, and nothing else. And everyone seems to be so very adamant about it, there is no space for other opinions, no, when it comes to pregnancy their way is the only way, and if you don’t do it then you are at best toying with a life, at worst on your way to become a baby-killer. Trouble with that: Everyone tells you something different. So no matter what, as soon as you’re pregnant, you’re screwed. Pardon the pun…

Anyway, here I am, recently found out that I am pregnant after months of worsening nausea and fainting spells, which, when I finally collapsed at the station on the way to work made me go to a walk-in clinic and they did the test. I vaguely suspected it, after the last period was unusually short, but not being sure if I even COULD get pregnant (for various reasons) meant I tried to ignore it as long as I could. Add to that the fact that I am a) on the old side with 40, b) not exactly the ideal weight with my overweight and far from fit, c) not at all the baby person, never having wanted children apart from a spell around 30 and by now rigorously set in my ways which do not exactly leave room for a little thing in there that will keep me awake day and night and do nothing but eat, sleep and poo, and require constant care, and you may see that this is not exactly the Hollywood swoon-in-happiness epiphany. Nonetheless, despite the heightened risk of miscarriage I decided to give it a try. I did consider getting rid of it, but I know this is the last chance I get, and knowing there was a time where I wanted a child, well, I just couldn’t run the risk of regretting it. Although who knows, I might regret it anyway… I do believe in nature’s ways though, and that whatever happens happens, and if I had so radically NOT wanted a child we would’ve been more careful. No matter which way this goes, it is where my life is leading me, and it will be another step in my development.

That being said, this thing is horrible. I can’t help but think of it as a parasite. I am constantly exhausted to the point where I can only roll up crying on the sofa, the constant nausea is not helping (whoever came up with the term Morning Sickness should be shot for maliciously misleading half the population on Earth!!), and I am convinced this thing is out to kill me by making me faint all over the place! Not exactly the smart thing to do to advertise your case, is it? Well, in its excuse I will say that the brain so far is a lump of cells, mixed in with cells for all sorts of other purposes, but still! The worst though is that I can’t walk more than 5 minutes without losing my breath, which makes life exceedingly difficult. Getting to and from work is hell, and I mean pure hell. Standing with a few million people squashed into oxygen-depleted train carriages while concentrating with every fibre on NOT collapsing just yet, while sweat pours and the cold outside will then instantly make you shiver freezing as soon as you step out of the station, not exactly healthy. Every morning when I get to work I need to lock myself in the loo, to cry with the exhaustion and change into dry clothes. Social life is non-existent, I can hardly get myself to work and back, there is no energy left to meet with friends. I tried to force myself. I had to cut it short when I couldn't keep the tears back from exhaustion. 

Crying is another thing altogether. For no reason at all that I can distinguish I just gush into tears. Let’s just say, the pretty picture they feed you all over the media with a glowingly smiling woman tenderly patting her belly, it’s crap. For me. It’s friggin’ exhausting, mentally and physically. And I am not sure anymore why I chose to continue… 

For now, with all these problems, my midwife and GP make me go to various hospital appointments about twice a week. For someone who hates going to the doctor in the first place, this is quite a bit upsetting, although I do feel that at least they are working on making it better with all these tests and monitoring. 

They say it does get better. That the nausea will tone down, the body gets used to the extra demand and stop making me collapse, and even the hormones tone down and the gushing tears will settle into a bit more control. That's what they say. But they also say it is the happiest time of one's life, and that is just crap in my case. I for one can't wait for this to be over. Although, essentially I guess this rather means it is just the start, doesn't it...

The Death of Proper Writing

Today I need to admit something publicly, come out at last, declare that, it seems, it has finally happened: I am old. 

Or old-fashioned at least. 

Probably not in all aspects of my life, but there is one particular area that I just can't get used to: Writing. 
 

To clarify this further, with writing I don't mean writing myself, that's not the issue. But other people's writing, and especially writing in newspapers. 

It used to be such a pleasure to read articles in newspapers. You would only become a journalist in the first place if you could write convincingly, powerfully, coherently at the least. 

What do we have today? Snippets of text strung together haphazardly, repeating the same thing over and over in the same article, without a thread that holds it together. And don't even get me started on the spelling! I just say quite quiet and they're their, and you (hopefully) know what I mean and understand my plight. And I am the non-native speaker!!! If I can learn it, a native can as well, especially one who chooses writing as their profession. Shouldn't there be a standard to uphold? Where is your professional honour, darlings?

Anyway, I blame technology. All this twittering and facebooking and texting has reduced us to blabbering idiots. No wonder people these days can't string together anything more than two sentences, we should be glad they even get one single sentence together that makes vague grammatical sense. Hoping for a structured article in an online newspaper, where the article is published as soon as someone has wrung it out of their fingers, no edit, no spell-check, just publish publish publish, and possibly amend later, well, hoping for structure in that is probably a lost cause. 

So here I am, realising that it is probably futile to look for structure, or even coherence, in my newspaper, where people a decade younger than myself present me with information. The twitter generation feeding information to the essay generation. 

Maybe I should just resign myself to the fact that the essay is dead, and all I was taught to do, such as introduction/body/conclusion, or just simple grammar and spelling, was all in vain. All those tests I had to pass in school, all those essays I had to submit at university, all of it was useless, and my teachers should've much rather pointed out that IGNORING all of this would be the only way to achieve peace of mind while catching up with the news. As they say, ignorance is bliss. 

But here I am, waiting for them to invent the pill to unlearn things. Until then, you will find me on the sofa with a proper (hard copy!) book!

The Only Way to Sustainability Is by Changing Human Behaviour

After just having written about learning to learn again, I thought I might just post something about what I have learned, and what better than the conclusion, in summary, of the course? I have now spent 8 weeks looking at various aspects of sustainability, population, climate change, our use of the commons, policy etc. And as in the beginning of the course, the one big question is still: Is the world on an unsustainable path?

How has the course changed my view? Not much, I must say. I started out thinking that the main problem with managing our planet sustainably is human behaviour. We have the technology to solve most problems, we know a lot about the science behind natural processes and how to utilise them sustainably, but where we struggle is human behaviour, how we treat our world. Policy is a powerful tool that could help on the way to change our behaviour, and to some extent it does, we have seen several examples of Pigovian taxes or incentive-based policies that have helped bring about an improvement in for example air quality and water pollution remediation in most developed countries, compared to say 60 years ago. Nonetheless, it still isn't enough.

We know that we have to stop being dependent on fossil fuels. Our current carbon dioxide emissions are unsustainable, and the IPCC agrees that only immediate action will avoid the worst, no matter which prediction model you look at among the peer reviewed and accepted scenarios. We are too late to avoid an impact already, so we will have to mitigate and adapt, but to avoid the worst we have to act now.

The problem is, human behaviour is not so easily changed. We like our traditions, we look at our individual and immediate gain rather than for long-term benefits. In chapter 10.8 on Sustainability Ethics we have read that there are very few ethics, despite it being the obvious thing to do, that care for our offspring, our future generations. We tend to look at quick fixes, some of which simply make things worse, e.g. sending sulphate aerosols into the sky to deflect radiation, despite the side effects that may make things worse for us. Our decision making follows the same longing for immediate benefits. Our political systems elect government into office for a stretch of a few limited years, and in order to attract voters politicians promise whatever seems to be most popular at the moment, which usually includes a reduction in taxes or other monetary benefits for the wider population. We do want change, but we don't want to pay for it. We don't realise that we will pay for it if we continue like this, nobody else will pick up the tab for their own pollution as long as they aren't forced to do so, and the wider population will get stuck with the price to pay, disproportionally affecting the poorer population.

Money also plays a part in policy making and enforcement. The big money in energy business will continue to encourage use of fossil fuels or nuclear power, and influence policy and other governmental decisions with monetary incentives, either in direct bribery, or by contributing in some other, legal or semi-legal, way to a country's economy, leaving us with increasing carbon emissions and nuclear waste that has nowhere to go. Still, our dependency on energy and other consumption leading to pollution is something that is difficult to give up, and most people will continue to strive for this lifestyle, so what we really need is a change in behaviour to accept alternatives that may be slightly inferior at this stage. However, without more pressure from the majority of the population nothing will change anytime soon. Not until it is too late.

In conclusion, we do have the means available to avoid the worst catastrophes, but that will involve us humans learning to change our behaviour. We have to use less energy, consume less fossil-fuel-dependent goods, eat less meat, and in general, behave in a more environmentally-friendly way. It may not seem much, but every little helps. And only by starting with the little things will we convince decision-makers to enforce change in the big things. We all have to learn, we all have to change, it is too late to stay with business as usual. And I feel very tempted to end with an encouraging “let's start today”, but it will be yet another years or decades before enough of us have realised the need for change to make an impact big enough to really mitigate climate change. I am sure we will get there. We have no other choice.

Learning to Learn Again...

It has been a while since I wrote anything here... I just couldn't think of anything significant to say, I suppose. I felt my brain was on energy save, and wouldn't come up with many ideas. I decided it was due to too much routine, work, home, a series or two, bed, and then the same again the next day. Nine Inch Nails' Everyday is exactly the same comes to mind... 
So I decided I had to do something. What I really do want to do is find a university course and continue studying, learning more and new things, maybe giving my career a different outlook with additional skills... The problem is: What subject? The things I get excited about are literature, gender studies, history and philosophy, but how does that fit with working in the energy sector? So maybe something more related? But that is so scientific, how will I understand that enough to work with, with my background?
So I decided to test myself. Experiment to do: See how I would do with one of the courses I've been doing online, those MOOCs, offered online, for free, from many universities by now, and instead of just doing a bit here and there, this time I wanted to do it all, go for a certificate, do all the assignments, on time, put the pressure on by adhering to deadlines, and most of all, after such a long break: Learn how to learn again, get the brain back on receptive and processing mode. 
Today I submitted my final exam. I chose a course on sustainability, the German green heart (conditioned to some extend by German politics, granted, but the topic has always been of interest) and the fact it had an interesting-looking energy module determined the choice. It was from an American university (more of a minus, as my interests lie this side of the pond), so slightly too much US-centric (why do I need to know the percentage of hydropower in the annual US energy portfolio and not know what the UK, or the world, is doing?), but nonetheless, I feel I have learned valuable things throughout these past 8 weeks. 
I have learned that my opinion before the course was similar to what I made of the new information gained during the course, just that I have a few more facts to back it up. I have learned not to be too afraid of technical terms, although I am still frightened to death by mathematics, especially when it comes to finance and equations... I just don't get it, my brain is just not suited to the finer points of maths, I do get part of the logic, but for more details I need someone to explain it to me in a language I understand - what I have learned is that I need it very visual, abstract logic will only go so far. Anyway...
I have learned that I still think we are exploiting the planet to our own destruction.
I have learned that is takes a lot of effort, especially besides working, to get all things done. The deadlines in this course were especially tight, but still, it does take effort and discipline, and the sacrifice of many a night where I would've much rather gone with a friend for a drink, or something else, was noticeable.
I made it, and have passed, I have the points together already, even before I know the final score of the exam. So that all worked out well!! 
I have new things to think about, or rather, more arguments to back up my opinions, and have already started talking back when my man tries to convince me when I am not convinced. 
Most of all: I learned to be happy about learning again, using new information to build and rebuild my opinion, and use my brain to think again!! What will come of it I don't know yet. I will see. First, I am glad it is over, and I can have a break!! Next to learn... I will see!  
    

The Joys of the Morning on the Northern Line

Having moved house in London for the umpteenth time and now living for the first time south of the river, I am still struggling to acclimatise.

First of all, yes, there are very nice areas in South London, but having mostly lived up north, with a few hills and more importantly, where the areas used to be little villages that were swallowed by the mass that makes up London but still managed to retain their villagey feel somehow, coming to South London now feels like entering one massive housing estate that stretches on and on for ever and ever.

That, and that my particular area is just filled with young professionals, who destroy any area they move into by taking over decent pubs and turning them into places where it is impossible to have a conversation over the blaring music, and where real ale is a thing of the past, as alcopops are suddenly the fashionable drink or something like that. The small shops where you could get everything you would ever need are being replaced by yet another Byron, or yet another Jamie Oliver-gone-whatever-the-cuisine-of-the-moment-is, something that can be nice on occasion, but not when that means sacrificing my usual daily life network of shops and amenities.

Nonetheless, I am willing to overlook these downsides by taking slightly longer journeys for shopping or food to Brixton or Tooting Broadway, both on the brink of yuppie-hood but at least in some areas they have still been able to maintain their character. What really makes me suffer now, living where I do, is the fact that I have to commute into the City with the Northern Line…

The Northern Line… or rather The Horror Line as I call it, is busy. Very busy. Crazy busy. Yes, the trains arrive every 2 minutes, but even so, on a good day it takes me 5 trains before I can find a tiny bit of foothold to be able to stand in the carriage door and somehow push the mass of human bodies in enough to make it within the closing door limits. On a bad day I have to let many more trains pass before I can find such a chance.

And then I am inside. Squashed against the door on my back and against the person in front of me, who I am spooning in a fantastically uncomfortable manner with my bag propped in somehow to make the entire experience at least nominally a little less indecent, one arm reaching in an attempt to hold onto a rail, cramped muscle in such arm while trying to keep myself from leaning even more into the surrounding bodies on turns and breaks of the tube, and the head in an awkward angle under the inwards-curving door and carriage roof in an attempt to find a position that is least uncomfortable and allows me to get at least a little bit of air. Which is futile, as air is non-existent in such tube, any oxygen that once was has long been used up by the mass of bodies and replaced with a hot, sweaty and stifling gas that miraculously does NOT suffocate everyone present. I don’t know how it is that people don’t faint en masse under these conditions, but then again, even if they did, there would not be a chance in hell for them ever reaching the floor, the bodies squashed against each other will hold everyone in place. So who knows, maybe half of the people in the carriage are already unconscious, but I will never know…

Yes, such fun is to be had every morning. I have taken to getting off a station early and walking the last bit to work, for one because it means I can cross London Bridge with the views and, with enough time, a coffee in my hand. A walk of a few minutes, fresh air, I repeat, fresh air, and the chance to shake off the worst of the physical stress my body has had to endure in the airless, squashed and unnaturally bent position on the train. But also, at London Bridge a number of people get off, so following them to the other side of the carriage, as of course I get on through one set of doors but have to exit on the other side, is easy enough. And, if I stayed on, a new bulk of human bodies squeezes in to ensure not even one stop can be travelled in even remotely comfortable conditions. And on a good day when I get ready early enough, I treat myself and take the bus.

Of Ears and Worms

I don’t know about you, but I am very prone to earworms. I probably am singing a song in my head pretty much any minute of the day, just that by now I don’t pay them so much notice anymore. However, a few songs are particularly loud in my head. And persistent. And cannot be ignored that easily. This is not necessarily a good thing, if you were thinking that humming a tune just testifies to a happy nature. Especially when it’s a song that I don’t even like, but just won’t leave my head, happy does not factor in much.

So where do these songs come from? Songs I hear in passing are an obvious source of course. Which can be tricky, coming back to the crap songs that sometimes stick and me then having to find another earworm just to purge the crap song from my head. Actually a good and effective remedy. Fight fire with fire, or rather earworm with earworm. Once you have another earworm, one that you like, you will continue singing it for a while, but after some time they slowly fade, without you spending long and agonising moments fighting a crap song that, just because you hate it so much, will get renewed energy every moment you notice it.

Also, in my case, a sentence or even just a word might do it. Almost any sentence can trigger a song. Pretty much everything anybody says has probably been used in a song. And oh so often I find myself listening to someone speak and suddenly breaking out in song in my head with the same words. Or word. Such as Rotterdam. That alone will, and does very often, trigger The Beautiful South. And since I know the song so well it usually takes me a while to be done with it, as I will work my way through the entire lyrics. When do you ever hear Rotterdam mentioned you ask? Well, my problem is that my manfriend is from Rotterdam, so mentions are plenty and frequent, and I don’t stand a chance trying to avoid it. Funnily enough, I have never been to Rotterdam, so other than a vague knowledge of where I might find it on the map I have nothing other than the song to associate with it, which probably makes this earworm even more persistent.

Another favourite of mine, or rather my head, is Wasn’t Built to Get up at this Time. Remember that one? This I sing almost every morning. When I was at uni, the radio station my alarm clock was tuned to played it EVERY morning when my alarm went off for weeks. Very appropriate I suppose. Thing is, even now, decades after, I still sing this thing most mornings, just for the simple fact of it. Me and mornings, yeah, well, that’s a whole different story, and not a happy one let me tell you. So just to iterate the point, no I Wasn’t Built to Get up at this Time.

Just a few examples, but I guess you get the picture. Picture yourself in a boat on the river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies, somebody calls you… So much for that!!