Hey Jealousy

Well, I discovered the toughest thing about being pregnant recently - missing out on live music (shows). I don't miss most things about not being pregnant. I don't really miss my old coffee habit - I get a little sad at the end of my first and only cup of coffee, but at least I can drink decaf if I really crave a second cup. I don't miss drinking alcohol. I don't even miss my old body that much because I am growing a human being, which is a beautiful experience (okay, after finding an old picture that I used to think I looked "fat" in, I recently told my 140 lb self that should I ever see her again, I'll never take it for granted again, but that's for another blog entry). I have become a home body the past few years, so I don't even miss going out that much most of the time.

However, I really miss seeing shows on occasion; especially when my favorite bands come around to my favorite venues. And mommy blogs and such say live music as long as it's not obscenely loud is probably ok. However, I don't like the word "probably" when it comes to a baby growing inside of me. I also don't really trust being around super drunk people. And you think, well seeing live music can't be all that rowdy, right? Well, unless your flavor of live music tends to be loud and rowdy punk rock, which is the case for me. Even if I sat in one of the few coveted seats in my favorite music venue, there would be the constant threat of jabs, broken bottles, and wayward moshing.

I accepted that I will just miss shows while pregnant because safety is important above all else. It was a personal choice, and I certainly wouldn't judge or begrudge any other punk rock momma who is going to shows still. It was something I discussed with my spouse, and we agreed - we're very paranoid parents already!

Unfortunately, what I did not anticipate is that my favorite music venue of choice has decided to close after being around for nearly 20 years... in my third trimester no less. Now businesses close down all the time, but this is especially brutal news. I have so many beautiful memories at this venue, and so does everyone I know. I'm a deeply nostalgic person. The first time I ever visited this town, I went to this venue. And this venue is also beloved by every band in our area - Now every band that doesn't already have a show booked there has been squeezing in last minute shows in the last month this wonderful venue is open. Including bands that don't play often, or awesome bands that aren't event together currently. Believe me when I say this - Everyone loves this venue. It's the best music venue because it is ran with love by the best people; because it's walls are imbued with the best memories; because it's jukebox is filled with the best music; because it has the greasiest, best food a punk rock club could ever ask for; and because even if you aren't as in love with it as I am, you can at least respect everything this place has done for the local punk rock scene.

So I am jealous of all the friends that will be at this venue for the next few weeks while I am at home, doing safe pregnancy things like going out to eat or watching TV. I'm SO JEALOUS. I feel emotional over it. Of course, while I'm certain that pregnancy hormones are playing their part, I think I would have cried at the news anyways.

Again, the beautiful daughter growing inside of me is well worth all of this... I just needed to get this off my chest. I also needed a moment to say thank you to the Triple Rock Social Club for being the best fucking punk rock venue this old ass punk could ever ask for. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for the wonderful music. Thank you for always treating me and my friends like family. Thank you for all the free bacon. Thank you for hangover biscuits and gravy. Thank you for way too strong drinks and and legitimate mosh pits. Thank you for everything.

Side note: I'm totally going there for brunch before they close. So at least I'll get to eat the best food while listening to the best jukebox one last time. <3

Good Grief

I faced a new challenge this week that I wasn't prepared for - grieving while pregnant. National tragedies will of course always get to me. But this one hit me harder than usual, triggered my anxiety at a level I hadn't felt in a long time, and made me worry much more than I could have ever imagined for the world in which I'm bringing my daughter into.

Yesterday, I cried, which while isn't an unusual response for most people to a national tragedy, it was an unusual response for me. You see, I'm not big into crying. It happens on a very rare occasion. I still have very few instances of crying under my belt in my life, even five months into my first pregnancy. And then, after the crying came an overwhelming sense of dread. Chest pain, making it difficult to breath followed. Then my vision blurred. I felt as though I was being crushed into an ever shrinking box. I was having a full blown anxiety attack.

It took me longer than it should have to realize that was what was happening, but there it was. And I felt terrified for the very first time that my anxiety could potentially hurt my baby. My lower stomach felt tight. Was I having a contraction? I'm not sure if I've never had a contraction before, so was this tightening it? Was the tightening squeezing my baby the way my chest felt squeezed? Was my trouble breathing restricting oxygen to my baby?

Do yourself a favor if you are pregnant and having your first full blown anxiety attack - DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT go to Google for answers. If it becomes unbearable, call your doctor.

I didn't call my doctor. I didn't call or reach out to anyone. Another rookie mistake. After consulting with Google, I did the next last thing you shouldn't do when anxious in the aftermath of a national tragedy - I hopped on Social Media. The venom, the hatred, the arguments (not debates, make no mistake, those weren't debates), the blame... it was horrible, and it just made my anxiety worse.

I have very strong opinions when it comes to the gun control debate, but I couldn't articulate anything. All I felt and could think about was awful, horrifying, all-consuming grief. The only thing I could bear to say was "My thoughts and prayers are with you Vegas." And then I saw people saying hateful things about those remarks (not aimed directly at me, but generally aimed at the so-called "type" of people that post such a thing in the way of a tragedy). How thoughts and prayers will do nothing, and how the type of people that say those types of things are part of the problem. And sadly, I've probably thought or said that type of judgmental thing in the past too. I was so angry. I was so grief-stricken. I was so hurt.

That's when I remembered that it's less important for me to join a debate where well reasoned people are saying my feelings, but in much more articulated ways, than it was for me to practice some self-care. I really didn't need to be there. I didn't have any obligation whatsoever to being online in that moment. My obligation in that moment, and every moment that I carry this baby, is to this baby. I needed to take a step back. I needed to take care of myself. I needed to take care of my body and therefore my baby. So I did.

I don't owe it to anyone to be on Social Media ever, but especially not when I'm anxious. I don't owe my thoughts on any subject to anyone at any time. So I took a break. I stepped away. I said "FUCK THIS" and set down my laptop. Fortunately despite being logged into my office job, I was working from home yesterday, and I was due a break anyways.

I remembered that I have a tool-belt of mechanisms that I can and should be tapping into in that moment to manage my anxiety. I started to take deep breaths, I started counting out, I started slowing my breath down, and I just reminded myself that I needed to BREATH. I meditated, I reflected, I allowed myself to feel what I was feeling without judging myself for it.

After some time, the anxiety backed off - not fully - and I started to relax. I'm still anxious today. But nothing like I was yesterday. And despite the anxiety yesterday, and anxiety today, I never stopped feeling my baby moving around the way she normally does. And that was and is my greatest comfort.