Apparently, all the pregnancy websites out there haven't heard the old saying about comparing apples with oranges. Virtually every week so far, I've been given a fruit comparison with which to envision the size of the baby. This week's fruit: a large banana. So now when I look down at my ever-growing belly, I see a banana. Past fruit examples included items like kiwi and grape. The grape days feel far away, now that I've reached banana status. I'm wondering how much longer the fruit analogy can work. What's left? Pineapple? Some other tropical species? Do I then lose the fruit frame of reference entirely?
My recent absence from the blogosphere has, I suppose, been indicative of this lull in gestational events. Week by week, the second trimester has been pretty consistently quiet. Or at least consistently consistent. With some exception of course, I work, I eat, I sleep, and I grow a child inside of me. Talk about the mundane and the sublime. I'm feeling more movement on a daily basis, and B has now been able to feel some kicks from the outside. None of my pre-maternity clothes really fit anymore. And doing simple things like tying my shoelaces or getting out of the car now require a momentary re-consideration to take my new growth into account. I can't imagine what my daily functioning will look like in a few months. I'm only at five months now, and feel like I've about reached the size that my body can accomodate in relative comfort. Yes, I know I will get much bigger. In theory. But it's a little harder to accept in reality. I've pushed my body to the limits before (ie. running marathons) and done things that I wouldn't have dreamed possible, but this is a whole new ball game.
My clients also remind me of changing appearance and status on a nearly daily basis. They all know about my pregnancy now, and continue to routinely comment on my appearance, which is more than a little strange. Until recently, my clients would never say things like, "Oh, your belly looks so cute today!" Ah, but now they do. As a therapist, I'm not accustomed to being the recipient of my clients' verbal feedback (though I know they have a whole other internal world that I'm not privy to), especially in relation to how I look. I'm also not accustomed to their protective gestures. Many of the female clients I work with have developed obvious caretaking rituals with me. In one home, I'm now offered the sole chair in the apartment during our sessions. Which is a much-appreciated alternative to sitting on the tile floor for an hour and a half. Another client offers me food and drink every time I come to the house. And a third reprimanded her son for asking me for a grape when he saw them on my desk, saying "you can't do that! you're stealing food from her baby!" It's fascinating, since none of these behaviors occurred before I was pregnant. And it keeps me on my toes, since as a therapist I'm also tasked with interpreting the clinical significance of such gestures and my responses.
So when is a grape just a grape? If you're a therapist, the answer is: never. If you're a pregnant therapist with fruit on her desk, on her brain, and as her imagined baby: never, ever. But now on to bananas--which come to think of it, Freudian psychoanalysis would probably have even more to say about! Perhaps in another post...
