Woke up in Neil's arms.
Spent most of the day cuddling with Neil, and watching hurricane footage on TV, and eating junk food together. We spent most of all of that time staring into each other's eyes and/or proclaiming our love for each other. There are words for the way Neil makes me feel, but I don't think I have enough time or enough talent to really find them.
While I was thinking about appropriate wording, Neil was playing with the baby, who was kicking him in the head. I think she got him in the eye once. Those two are inseparable -- already. It's so beautiful...
It was a good day.
Two DIFFERENT cars damn near ran me over on my way to the fast food joint down the street. I've got a couple of plastic cups that I've been refilling with soda during dinner hours when nobody's looking. It's not that far of a walk, and, whatever, I'm poor. I don't have enough money for sodas. So I steal them. Sort of. Nobody's technically TOLD me that refills aren't free...
Anyway, TWO cars nearly ran me down.
This one bitch came within about four inches of slamming into me with her cute little maroon monstrosity. Then she yelled out her window, "oops! Sorry! I didn't see you walking there!"
I yelled back at her: "Yeah, thanks BITCH... I'm AWARE of that, thanks."
I usually don't much like yelling at people. But the fucking cuntrag scared the hell out of me. It was sort of a reflex.
Then, this other guy nearly ran me over on my way back. The guy in the passenger's side waved me across, but the driver wasn't looking. After the passenger waved me a second time, I started, hesitantly, across the road. And at that moment, the driver peeled out and came within maybe two inches of smushing me. Didn't even look. The passenger shrugged at me, as if to say, "oops, sorry I almost got you smushed."
I yelled: "HEY FUCKER!"
PEOPLE NEED TO LEARN HOW TO DRIVE.
At very least, they need to learn how not to hit me.
Or how not to almost hit me.
That shit just pisses me off.
Got a letter from DSHS tonight.
They're giving me more food stamps starting next month. They're giving me an extra eight dollars. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. The extra eight dollars comes in because I now pay almost $200 in rent. They figure: oh, okay, you're paying $200 in rent now? And you've been paying nothing? Weeeeelll... I guess we can maybe spare an extra eight bucks a month for you to eat with...
They included in the letter a pamphlet about what toll-free number I ought to call if I should decide to terminate my pregnancy.
What the fucking HELL are they thinking, sending me this shit?
I am 27 weeks pregnant now. My daughter's heart rate was 152 beats per minute last time I went to the doctor's office. She plays a game called Kick Milo-the-Buzzing-Turtle. She knows her mom and dad. In the ultrasound pictures, she appears to have a big nose like me, and a wide, astonished mouth. She is old enough now to survive if anything should happen to me. She would be very premature, and she wouldn't be very healthy for a good long time, if ever, but she's capable of living on her own if she absolutely had to. She is a PERSON now.
And they send me a fucking pamphlet with a fucking abortion hotline on it.
Granted, I think the pamphlet said something more than that, but I didn't bother reading it. I read what caught my eye, and then I wadded the whole thing up and threw it.
YOU STUPID FUCKING EVIL ASSHOLES. HOW DARE YOU SEND ME THIS BULLSHIT? YOU FIGURE THAT IF I KILL MY DAUGHTER, YOU'RE NOT GONNA HAVE TO SHELL OUT THAT EXTRA EIGHT BUCKS IN FOOD STAMPS, HUH? YOU WON'T HAVE TO SHELL OUT ANYTHING AT ALL. YOU THINK THAT I'M POOR AND SOMEWHAT HELPLESS, FINANCIALLY SPEAKING, AT THE MOMENT, AND SO I OUGHT TO KILL MY KID? SHE'S MY KID, DAMN YOU. SHE KNOWS ME, AND SHE KNOWS HER DAD, AND SHE'S ALIVE, AND I LOVE HER, AND FUCK YOU PEOPLE FOR DARING TO LICK THE ENVELOPE YOU SEND THAT MONSTROUS SHIT TO ME IN...
My daughter is alive.
She knows me. I know she does. And she knows Neil. She plays with us. And with Milo. Sometimes I can almost feel her growing inside me. Once in awhile, I wake up and notice that I seem a little bit bigger than I did the night before. Sometimes I feel little tuggings and twistings, a little like a stitch in my side, and this means she's growing.
She will not be allowed to date until Neil has properly taught her how to kick an ass.
She has a big white teddy bear and a little red stuffed octopus, for when she's born. I also have a twenty-dollar gift certificate for Toys R Us, and when I have some time and the inclination, I think I'll buy her a big stuffed rat to guard over her when she sleeps. Rats are good for that sort of thing.
I bought her a pair of baby Chuck Taylors at Mervyns a few months ago, when I first found out I was pregnant. They're black. They also had pink ones and red ones, but I liked the black ones best. They're the best color for ass-kicking, I think. I think she will be an ass-kicker.
I will teach her all of the secret family recipes. I will teach her to read, and how to crochet and sew, and how to sound intelligent by talking about the parts of speech by their technical names. I will let Neil teach her about physics and ass-kicking. And how to climb the side of a house. And probably how to drive, and things like that.
I love my kid. She's a real person now, and I love her.
That's all. That is absolutely all.
I feel like going into the DSHS office and throwing a raging fit.
Tonight, I will sleep in Neil's arms. We can cuddle up next to each other, and everything will be warm and safe.
I will dream about hurricanes. Fierce winds and drenching floods. I will dream that Neil and I are holding each other and standing under his puny little umbrella and laughing. Let most of the rest of the world dissolve under the waves.
~Helena*