My poor niece. I talked to her on the phone the other day, and she was just forlorn. She tried to sound chipper to start with, but soon she was sputtering and choking with tears.
It seems she�s beginning to understand the reality of her situation. Not that she�s any less resolved, but things aren�t as easy as she might have once imagined them to be. At 13 weeks pregnant, she hasn�t quite gotten to the point where she actually feels good. Anyone who�s been pregnant knows that the first trimester is the hardest. The changes taking place in your body, both physically, hormonally, and emotionally, are enough to lay you out. I tried to reassure her that soon, very soon, she would start feeling well. In months 4-7 she should find herself feeling great. Energy comes back, usually there�s no more morning sickness, and a kind of pregnancy induced euphoria sets in. But right now she can�t imagine that she�ll ever feel good again. And although she feels excited to be having a baby, she is tormented by the gravity of her financial situation. As well she should.
I believe it has finally dawned on her that the path she has chosen is one that elevates her to instant adulthood, with all of the responsibilities that come with it. What set her off this week was the realization that her grandfather (my dad), whom she�s always relied on financially, can�t and really shouldn�t be called upon any longer to provide for her. Though he might disagree, she�s beginning to feel uncomfortable with having to ask him for money.
But she needs money. During our phone conversation, I discerned that the thing she�s wrought over at the moment is the fact that none of her clothes are fitting her anymore. And I totally understand that. This is the stage where things really start happening. Although she probably won�t be �showing� for at least another month or two, now is when those pesky waistbands just won�t seem to close, and anything that a girl does manage to get on feels horrible and tight. Even her underwear is too small. Her boobs have grown exponentially, which means none of her bras fit either. Her shirts won�t close, and she�s downright miserable. With no way to buy what she needs.
I remember what that feels like. And I also remember how much relief I felt at going shopping and picking out clothes I could be comfortable in, and grow into as the months passed. And the hand-me-downs from formerly pregnant friends and co-workers were a life-saver. She has no such resources.
So, enter Aunt Whatawoman. I�m determined to make this one part of the whole process that she doesn�t have to worry about. I can�t control her crummy boyfriend�s snarky insistence that she find a job immediately so he doesn�t have to �do it all by himself.� Grrrrrrr. I can�t make him believe that she�s not �making it up� when she isn�t feeling well or energetic, or her insides are tormented with the pain of stretching muscles and shifting bones. I can�t educate the jerk on pregnancy. I�d like to beat him senseless and make him feel as lousy as he�s making her feel right now. But, unfortunately, I can�t.
But I can buy her clothes, and I can call her uncle (my brother) and have him contribute money too, so we can get her everything she needs. I can, and I have.
So yesterday I went to the mall, and bought her a bunch of things, which I will be mailing this morning. I called her and told her to expect a package next week, and the relief and gratitude in her voice told me that it was the right thing to do. And when I get the money from my brother (and he�s Mr. Money Bags in our family, so I�m expecting a sizeable contribution), we�ll get her set up for the long haul.
No matter how much I may subscribe to the philosophy of �you made your bed, now lie in it,� when it comes to those we love, especially the children we love, how does one turn her back? I�ve never been able to do that.
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