Pregnant on the L

Commuting to work is getting harder and harder.  I’m now over 6 months pregnant.  My ankles are usually swollen and I’m always tired.  I STILL have morning sickness.  My growing tummy is ensuring that my center of gravity is off and that throws off my balance.  Then there are the random aches and pains.  Plus the baby does flips when we are on the train.  The movement is crazy.  I can’t tell if she loves it or hates it, but I know she’s affected and of course I feel her strong reaction.   All of these symptoms make riding the train more difficult than it used to be. 

On this day, I had an interesting Red Line experience.
A fight almost broke out and I was tripping on feet to
get away from the argument that was happening less than
2 feet away from me.  No one moved or gave me a seat.
I clearly look pregnant.

Commuting is understandably more difficult, but what I did not expect was the rudeness of my fellow L riders.  I was on the train a few weeks ago and a woman obviously traveling from the airport had her Louis Vuitton handbag on the only empty seat on the train.  I, naturally, asked her if I could please sit down.  She rolled her eyes and moved the bag.  I was in shock.  The passive aggressive me took out my iphone and facebooked so she could read it on my screen. 

Dear tourist,

Your Louis Vuitton will not sit in the handicap seat as my pregnant swollen everything stands.

Nice try though!

Me

I brushed it off as “she’s from out of town, maybe New York,” and moved on. 

In the following weeks I was surprised by how many people did not offer to let me sit.  They would often look at my tummy and either stare or look away, but I would stand.  I would complain to my husband who would say “Cristina, you need to tell them you are pregnant and ask for their seat.”   I don’t like that idea.  My response to him was “No way! That’s like admitting I need help.  I can handle this.”  

I have had two women and one man give up their seats to me (in 6 months of commuting).  One man was so nice, he got up immediately, and he was going a long distance on the train.  As he was standing in front of me I thought, “I need to buy some Starbucks gift cards and give them out to nice people like him.” I want him to know how rare and appreciated his act of kindness is.  This joy was short lived, because yesterday a nicely dressed man in a suit with a very nice looking smart phone had a plastic bag on the only empty seat on a crowded train.  I asked if I could sit down.  This man gave me an attitude and huffed and puffed.  He moved the bag, but did not move another plastic bag he had on the floor.  He did not put something on his lap he just kept the bags on the floor by my feet.  The hormones in me took over and I kicked the bags out of the way making room for my swollen puppies.  I could not believe it.  His actions were rude if I was just a fellow commuter, but I’m 6 months pregnant!

Cristina's Starbucks Challenge

I still think the Starbucks gift card idea is a good one.  My husband says people should not be rewarded for just doing what is right.  He thinks I should take pictures of the rude commuters and do some public shaming.  Of course, he’s a little protective of baby and me.  I know he was upset when I told him the story.  He said, “you should at least blog about it.”  So I’m blogging. **Smile**

What do you think I should do?  How should I take on this task to teach train etiquette?  

UPDATE: You can read the follow-up here:
Pregnant on the L Part 2

A Smile and Two Thumbs Up

Early yesterday morning my great-uncle passed away.  I come from a huge family, and sometimes it is easy to get lost in a big family.   But with my great-uncle, I never felt lost.  I know everyone will take with them their own memories of him.  For me, I will remember his love for family and a good party.  He loved having the extended family get together, family reunions were his thing.  I hope I will remember this value as I start my own family. 

My uncle was sick for some time, and I had avoided going to the hospital.  Understandably, after my mother passed, I don’t do too well with hospitals and terminal illnesses.  I had a conversation with my husband on going to visit him, and I decided that he was on my mind and I wanted to see him.  I understood that there was no way to predict what state I would find him in.  But I knew that he had been good to me, and even if he didn’t recognize me, I could at least keep him company for a bit. 

Tia Maria & Tio Oney
with the Hubby and Me on our Wedding Day!
October 20, 2012

He did recognize me.  In fact, he didn’t want me to leave.  He motioned that he wanted all of the family there.  This was the uncle I knew and loved.  I stayed as long as I could.  I told him that I was pregnant and that I was having a girl.  He wasn’t able to talk, but he gave me two thumbs up and a big smile, both, I know, cost him a lot of energy.  I’m sad that my baby will not get to meet my uncle, but I am glad that even if for just a short time, he knew of her.  I will remember that my baby brought him a smile and two thumbs up at a time when it seemed there was very little to be happy about. 

She is worth a smile and two thumbs up, and so was he.

Wake and Funeral Arraignments:

Uncle Oney Villarreal

Muzyka & Son Funeral Home
5776 W. Lawrence Ave
Chicago, IL 60630

(773) 545-3800

Visitation – Wednesday, July 24, 2013 3:00PM-9:00PM

Funeral – Thursday, July 25, 2013 8:30A

What's in a Name?

Naming a baby is hard work.  I want her to have a playground safe, but strong name.  I want her to have a name that reflects our culture, our family, our hope for her, but I also want to leave her room to be an individual.  It is so much more than just picking something pretty.  It needs to be unique, but not crazy.  I even think of how it will look on a resume. 

Many people assume I’m going to name my baby after my mom.  I want to honor my mom, but I also know my mom didn’t really like her name.  I also have 30 plus first cousins and many of them have kids of their own.  I don’t want to “take” anyone else’s name.  And trust me, I’m pretty convinced they’ve already taken some of the best names for their kids.  Sometimes I think, “darn it, I should have had a baby earlier so all the good names wouldn’t be taken.”

Then of course there is the fact that her father and I hardly agree on any names.  What does that mean for us as parents?  I find myself wondering, “how are we ever going to agree on parenting when we can’t agree on a name?!?!?”  But there is one name we agree on, her last name.  She will have my husband’s last name. 

I’m a little surprised about some of the comments I received when I didn’t change my last name when I got married.  I’m also a little surprised that so many of my friends did change their names when they got married, but I understand that it is a very personal decision.  I wonder why, in today’s day in age, keeping your maiden name is still controversial.  In many Latin American countries women keep their last name, which is unexpected given the ‘machismo’ cultures. If they are ok with it, why aren’t we? 

Keeping my last name was important to me for many reasons.  First, even as I child I couldn’t grasp the concept of why women have to change their names.  When my mom explained that some women don’t I promised myself that, I never would.  My mom said I’d change my mind when I had my own children and my dad said I would change my mind when my husband made me.  Of course dad’s statement only reaffirmed my vow to myself  and even made it a little deeper. 

Later, I didn’t like the idea of being called anything other than the name I had been called my whole life.  Marriage did not mean I was losing me.  I was happy to gain a life partner, to have him as my family, and I hope we grow and evolve together, but I never want to lose myself in him.  I think this is an invaluable lesson I would like to teach my daughter too. 

Finally, my last name represented my father.  The man who more than anyone in this world, even my mother, made me who I am today.  I wanted to keep that, and I think that’s why I want my daughter to have my husband’s last name.  I know what a great impact he will have on her and her life.  I know first hand how important that bond is. 

On the issue of my baby girl’s last name, there are no arguments.  Now if we could only get things together and figure out the rest of her name.   But no matter what her name ends up being, I hope she will know it came from a place of love and good intentions.  I hope she will take it and create her own name in this world.

Amor de Madre

I am ready to kick the next person who asks, “Aren’t you just loving pregnancy?” Or the next person who says, “I just loved being pregnant.”  I will kick them with my fat swollen foot and ankle so I don’t how much it will hurt.  I’m well over 5 months pregnant and still getting morning sickness.  I’m exhausted and if you know what a busy schedule I keep, than you know how frustrating it is that my body is not able to keep up with me.  I don’t sleep well and just when I think, “Who can possibly pee that much?” I have to go again.  I know I am blessed to have this opportunity.  I know that I will be rewarded at the end of this with an amazing baby (she already is amazing).   I also know that this is a great blessing that has made me feel closer to my mother. 

I think of my mother, and I wonder how she went through this twice.  Correction, she was pregnant twice and then she went through countless rounds of chemotherapy, a sacrifice, much like pregnancy, which was made for her kids.  She always told me she had horrible morning sickness during pregnancy, but obviously I don’t remember her being pregnant.  I do remember the bouts with chemotherapy, and I know her worst symptoms were nausea, fatigue, and body aches.  I remember her not being able to eat.  I remember her going out no matter how many times I told her she needed to stay home and rest.  All of these are issues I’m now dealing with on a daily basis.   I wonder how she continued in this state for years.  And yet, I completely understand her determination to keep on living for her children. 

For my mom, my law school graduation was a benchmark.  If I could graduate and she could see it happen, then she knew her kids were adults and they would be ok. She could leave this earth in peace.  She would not let herself give up before that.  She also knew that no matter what, I would take care of my brother, who of course was also an adult and able to care for himself. I now understand all of this in a way I never could before.  The pregnancy aches and pains are horrible, but they are a reminder of my mother’s struggles and through those I’m closer to her.  I have one small iota of an understanding of the sacrifices she made.  When I’m nauseous and vomiting, when I’m exhausted, but still going to that next event, I think of her.  I think about how I know this will end in 9 months, but her symptoms only worsened.  For the first time, I truly understand el amor de madre, a mother’s love.