1981 - August 1981
period still hasn't started, and already I'm beginning to act stupid
about it ..."
The beginning of
the "final" black journal ... after this, we may see a return to the
old spiral-bound format! (Getting back to our roots?)
I have to decide
what to do. Stay with Ray? Go back to Grandma & Grandpa's (or
Dad's)? Get a job? Get pregnant? NOT get pregnant?
We are once again
sharing the house with a third person, and this complicates the
situation further. So far there have been no major problems with our
new rommmate, Mike Myers, but I'm still not happy about it. Selfish, I
know, but there it is. I don't want to share this house, and I
particularly don't want to share Ray. This is not a healthy attitude,
and I'm ashamed of myself for feeling this way, but I resent having
another person in the house.
This will change
with time. I'll get used to having Mike around, and then I'll feel
silly for having been so narrow-minded. I already feel terrible just
for having written it here in this journal ... on the SECOND PAGE, yet!
I guess that what I'm most concerned about is a lack of privacy, a lack
of time alone with Ray, and time alone together is important to our
relationship. Especially now. Only time will tell if Mike interferes
with that necessary time alone.
March 4, 1981
Yesterday it was pouring rain, and frankly I wish it was raining again
today ... it would better suit my mood. Still feeling down, although
perhaps not as acutely as yesterday.
(A revision. I just
took Smokey out for his morning run in the backyard, and although the
sun is shining, there are also huge, black clouds rolling from the
west. It makes for an interesting combination - sunny in the backyard,
cloudy in the front yard. Half and half. Sorta like my mood today.)
Tonight is Ray's
bowling night, but I'm not sure if I'm going to go ... after that awful
drunken confrontation with Dave McK. & others last Friday
night, I would be too embarrassed to face him at the bowling alley
tonight. Maybe if I take a book with me and studiously avoid looking
him in the eye ... I don't know. I can't "hide" forever. Sooner or
later I'm going to have to take the plunge and face Dave, and Mike Ross,
and Cathi, and Scott & Leslie ... all of Ray's friends who
don't approve of me. Paranoid? Probably. It is clear that none of these
people like me, and it's terrible because they all love Ray so much.
They think I'm a freeloader, for one thing. For another, they're all a
lot more gregarious & outgoing than I am, and whenever I'm
around them (unless I've been drinking), I just clam up and hide behind
my usual wall of reserve. They think I'm stuck-up, when in point of
fact my self-esteem is piteously low. I'd give anything to be more like
them, but it's so damnably impossible. I can never seem to loosen up.
March 5, 1981
HUNGOVER. I went
with Ray last night after all, and in spite of the crappy way I feel
this morning, I'm glad I did. Dave and I had a chance to talk, and the
air was cleared between us. I'm glad. We all got very drunk and I can
barely remember what happened after we came home. I plan to spend the
day attempting to recover.
My period started
yesterday, incidentally. Damn?
Feeling a little
better emotionally today. Obviously a lot of the depression I've felt
the past couple of days was because my period was coming. Now that it's
started I'm a little disappointed but it's nothing I can't handle. Last
night Ray said that maybe we should wait a few months before we start a
baby, mainly for financial reasons I think. I was drunk when he said
it, and I took it was a personal affront, but in the sober light of day
I can see the sense of it.
stoned. Cold bare feet. Beginning of a small headache. Old "Monkees"
albums sitting on my lap ... transporting me back nearly fifteen years.
Was I ever REALLY eight years old and in love with Michael Nesmith??
Who just pulled
into the driveway ... ? Mike, I guess. Sigh. Wish Ray would get home.
March 6, 1981
Coffee nerves. I've
been alone all day and have accomplished almost zilch ... I wrote a
four-page letter to my pen pal Melinda, but that's about it. Sunshine.
Wondering, as I always do on Friday afternoons, whether we'll be going
out tonight. (And this week I'm also wondering if this weekend will be
the fiasco last weekend was. God, I hope not.) Ray has been talking all
week about going to the tavern tonight, but I'm not thrilled by the
prospect ... it would undoubtedly involve Mike Ross, and I'm not ready to
face him again. Asking for Dave McK.'s forgiveness was one thing, but I
SLAPPED Mike, and I don't know if I could ask that self-satisfied
creep to "forgive" me ...
night's Chinese food. I just realized that I am ravenously hungry. It's
3:30 now and I know that Ray probably won't be home for hours.
March 9, 1981
A quick report of
the weekend now past. On Friday night Mike came over, as expected,
and I'm happy to say that all has been forgiven & forgotten. He
came in the door and kissed me and apologized, and that was that. It
wasn't even worth agonizing over. Anyway, the three of us went to
Dave's Place for a few hours. Saturday was a wasted day. Ray didn't
even get up until late in the afternoon, and I just sat around and read
all day. Saturday night, Ray and I went with Cathi & Dave,
Scott & Leslie to a friend's house at Pine Lake for a few hours
of foosball and beer. As usual, the other girls huddled together in one
room while I sat and watched the guys play, but this has been going on
in my life for so long that it barely fazes me anymore. I think.
It's another one of
those brilliantly sunny days, and I'm finally reconciling myself to the
fact that spring is on the way. I think that I'm probably the only
person in the world who doesn't like spring & who detests
summer. My dislike of warm sunny weather grows every year. I'm probably
being more pessimistic than I need to be, but summertime is always
really bad for my self-esteem. I look terrible in the summer;
consequently, I feel terrible; consequently, I have a generally rotten
time. I know it sounds ridiculous, but there it is for all to see. Of
course, though, every once in a while a really GOOD summer sneaks up on
me and I have fun, in spite of myself. 1972 and 1975 were the best.
1978 and 1980 were the best adult summers so far, mostly because
I've picked up the
house a little bit and done my hair, and have now taken a seat at the
kitchen table, where I plan to scribble a couple of letters and drink
beer and work on my "old" Bee Gees tape until my roommates come home.
Tuesday 5 p.m.
March 10, 1981
finished re-hanging the kitchen curtain and now I'm sipping Kool-Aid
and waiting for Ray to come home. He didn't get home until 1 a.m. last
Saturday 2:30 p.m.
This has been a
horrible week, and it just seems to be getting worse & worse.
Ray has been late getting home every night - except of course for
Wednesday, his bowling night - and by "late" I mean six to
late, every single night. That means I've been spending a hell of a lot
of time alone in this house, even more than usual, and it hasn't been
any fun at all. Smokey
ran off once earlier this week, and then again this morning, and I've
had the neighbors, the Kirkland police, King County Animal Control, and
even Ray's parents all over my back because of it. I'm so sick of that
damned dog, I could scream. Sometimes he can be the gentlest, most
loving dog in the world, but lately he's been nothing but a big fat
headache. I've got to watch him EVERY SINGLE MINUTE.
but warm ... sitting at the kitchen table, cool breeze on my back from
the open door. Didn't even get out of bed until 1:30 today. Ray is
working today ... or rather, he worked until 1:30, but judging from the
way things have been going all week, he won't be home for hours. The
house is a mess, but at this point I don't really give a damn. I wish I
could just hop into a car and go for a long, long drive. I feel like a
prisoner in this house: no car, no phone, no money.
A little better.
Ray and I are spending the evening (so far) quietly, comfortably - and
alone. I'm terrified that any minute someone's going to come pounding
on the door and spoil it. A little wine, a little pot, the usual goofy
Saturday night TV shows (Love Boat, Fantasy Island).
Now Ray has taken a
walk down to Athen's Pizza to pick up some dinner.
March 17, 1981
depressed. Ray, Mike Myers and I went to Hector's last night for dinner
but we ended up staying in the bar the whole evening and never even
made it to dinner. Ray and I came home and got into another drunken
screaming match, with me doing all the screaming. Ray is so fucking
undemonstrative, it drives me up a wall.
March 19, 1981
Alone. Mike is off
helping a friend move, and Ray is working. Tired. "All My Children" on
TV. The house is a mess, and so am I, but I don't have the energy to
get up and move around. The depression I've been feeling lately has
leveled off a bit, although there are still empty places in my life.
Ray has begun to put subtle pressure on me to get a job. Last night it
occurred to me that this is a very familiar situation ... Scott Wolf
nagging at me to find work, Bobby doing the same last summer.
Both times I fought it like hell, and now here I am repeating myself
one more time.
Friday - same time
March 20, 1981
first day of spring. Big deal.
Alone again. Just
got out of bed a little while ago ... stayed in bed later than usual in
order to avoid Mike. Slightly peeved at him for poking his nose into
personal matters last night. Getting irritated with his big mouth.
Shades of Douglas H. Peffer !!!!!
Hot tea. Clean wet
hair wrapped in a soggy towel. Sean Cudahay is scheming his way around
Palmer Courtlandt on "AMC." I have a hell of a lot of things I'd like
to say, but once again I find myself utterly devoid of motivation. I'm
dissatisfied with my life, with Ray, with the world in general, and I
should put it on paper but I can't. Ray is drinking too much. I'm
turning into an irritable, complaining bitch. I spend too much time
alone in this house, and then when I finally am around other people, I
either drink too much and make a fool out of myself, or else I
clam up and act like I hate everybody.
March 21, 1981
Ray didn't come
home last night until 2:40 a.m., and the only thing he gave me by way
of explanation/apology was, "I
couldn't get a ride." He was
falling-down-drunk when he finally got home, and I was unusually nice
about the whole thing - I helped him get out of his clothes and tucked
him into bed - but inside I was seething. Maybe I still am. Today I've
written a few letters and washed my hair, and that's about it. I also
called Grandma V. and had a long, invigorating talk with her. I also
called Randy a little while ago. He said that he might have a car
tonight & may be able to take me out. I told Ray about it, and
he got all bent out of shape - although not for the reasons you would
expect. "If he can afford to
take you out, why can't he afford to pay me back my $25?"
Ray told me all
about these two women who tried to "pick him up" at the bar last night.
Am I supposed to be impressed?
March 23, 1981
... raining and gray. This is the kind of day I like best.
March 24, 1981
Alone but not
lonely. Mike took off a few minutes ago ("See
ya later, Terri!") and now I'm
sitting on the sofa with a 7-Up and "Ryan's Hope," wondering how to
fill the empty hours between now and the time Ray gets home tonight. I
spent hours cleaning the house yesterday, and except for a few odds
& ends laying about and the unmade bed, the place is still neat
and orderly. Work on my scrapbook? Write a few letters? Do some
mending? Geez, what an exciting life I lead ...
later, and so much for solitude ... Mike is back, dammit. Dammit,
Alone again, only
this time I am
lonely. Geez, it sounds like I can't make up my mind, doesn't it? When
people are here, I want them to go away ... then when I'm alone, I long
for company. It's strictly a no-win situation.
I imagine "the
boys" are out together somewhere, probably getting drunk, and I
shouldn't expect to see them for hours still. Sigh. At least I have
"Gone With The Wind" on TV tonight.
Spring 1981 is ...
unemployed after seven months, but beginning to think about job-hunting
again ... dreaming about my old Dart, and longing for another car ...
the price of postage stamps going up to 18 cents ... discovering "Suite
For A Rainy Day" ... plants growing in the storage room ... potatoes
for breakfast, lunch and dinner ... looking forward to the mini-series
"Masada," starting April 5 ... Mike Myers living here ... terrible cold
... hot coffee
1. Healthy baby - boy or girl!
3. Two kittens, Beannie & Cecil
4. Microwave oven
5. Cable TV
6. New pr. of jeans
7. Silver watch
8. "The Chronicles of Narnia" by C.S. Lewis
9. Sofa and loveseat
10. Paint job in bedroom
11. Navy blue skirt and vest set
12. Straw macramé wall hanging
13. Diamond stud earrings
14. Address/phone book
15. Subscription to "Soap Opera Digest"
16. Additional M. Parrish prints
17. Tabu bath oil and powder
18. Headboard for our bed
19. Portable radio/cassette player
20. New winter coat
21. Silver typewriter charm for my charm bracelet
23. Leather boots
24. Wicker planters
25. Turquoise ring
26. Glass chimes mobile
27. Peg Benatar, "In The Heat Of The Night"
28. Blondie, "Autoamerican"
29. Paint job for car
30. Salad bowl set
31. Wine glasses
32. Wicker magazine rack
33. Bedroom phone
34. Running shoes
35. Assorted fine gold chains (like Judy wears)
36. St. Bernard puppy
37. Brown velour towels
38. Album - "Sniff 'N The Tears"
39. Back brush
40. Big floor cushions
42. 35mm camera
43. Bathroom cabinet w/mirror
44. Fabric sculpture for baby's room
45. Studio portrait of Ray and I
46. Kitchen canisters (different looking)
47. Carpet remnants for car
48. Album - "New England'
49. Red silk blouse
50. Standard folk guitar
51. Hanging planter
52. Wooden towel rack
53. Vacuum cleaner
54. "The Mirror," Marlys Milhiser
55. Frames for pics of Dick & I
56. Long pastel nightgowns (10)
57. Desk in our bedroom
58, Drivers License renewed
59. Two large photo albums
60. Christmas pics 1980 developed
62. Rocking chair
63. Pictures for bathroom
64. Velveteen blazer
65. Cuckoo clock
66. White afghan from Grandma V.
67. Bell collars for Sammi & CeCe
68. Gold cross pendant
69. Silk pajamas
70. Long fingernails!
71. Boston fern
72. Personalized stationery
73. New bathrobe for Ray
74. Gerry Rafferty albums
75. Sofa cushions (a bunch)
76. Roses from Ray
77. New reclining armchair
78. Lots of new plants
79. Gold and pearl neckchain
80. Pearl "dot" earrings
81. Opal ring
82. Turquoise ring
83. Massaging showerhead
84. New ski jacket
85. African violets
86. Fireproof storage box (LARGE)
87. Letter from Carol Johnstone
88. Wicker cat bed
89. Address labels
90. Maternity slacks
91. Dress for my wedding
92. Big reception
93. Birth announcements
94. Baby book
95. Toaster oven
March 27, 1981
Sick. Woke up with
a raw throat and a pounding headache.
March 30, 1981
Even more sick ...
have spent the past two days in bed, and I feel like shit.
President Reagan this morning ... some malfunctioning creep running
around with a handgun. The President was shot in the left side and one
of his lungs collapsed. He's out of surgery now and they expect him to
recover. The Press Secretary, James Brady, was shot in the head,
though, and is going to die probably. Everything else in the world
seems to have come to a standstill, waiting for news.
March 31, 1981
Feeling a little
better, but not much. I can hardly breathe and I can't stop sneezing.
Sitting on my rumpled bed in my robe, choking down a cup of coffee.
Mike is out in the kitchen making another horrible mess, but he's
offered to clean the whole house while I spend one more day in bed so I
guess I'll do just that. My hair is so dirty I could scream.
(Ooooh! They just
blew up Anne Martin on All My Children!!!)
Things between Ray
and I have not been so wonderful lately.
April 1, 1981
Early in the
morning. Ray just left for work with Cathi, and rather than crawl back
into the warmth and comfort of our bed, I have elected to brave the
early morning chill with a cup of coffee and a page or two in my
journal. (Steam rises from the coffee cup ... the stereo plays softly
in the living room behind me. Mike is asleep in his room.)
I feel a tremendous
need to write about the things that have been troubling me. Maybe in
the quiet cold seclusion of the kitchen, I can now make some effort.
Last night was
another lousy night. Ray and Mike went out grocery shopping late in the
afternoon, and they didn't come home until nearly four hours late, in
spite of Ray's promises to "come straight home." I gave him my usual
frosty reception when they finally came stumbling in ... he said they
"stopped for one pitcher," but I don't know. He seemed pretty unsteady
for "one" pitcher. I said, "Honey, how come you have to come home drunk
every night?" His answer? "What
else is there to do?" That was
such a slap in the face. Am I such a total pain to live with that he
has to anesthetize himself every night before he comes home?? Of course
he passed out on the sofa almost immediately, and it practically took a
forklift to drag him down the hall to bed.
Randy called at
9:00, and that was the one and only highlight of my evening. It was so
good, just to talk to somebody. God, I've been lonely lately. Ray never
talks to me. I don't think he ever did. He leaves for work in the
morning and he's gone all day ... then when he comes home in the
evening, drunk, he sits out in the living room with Mike and watches
TV. When he finally comes to bed he either crawls all over me or else
he passes out - or both. (After a whole evening of barely speaking
three intelligible words to me, he expects me to make love to him.
Boom. Just like that.)
After I turned off
the lights and went to bed last night, I spent an hour so laying awake,
examining my feelings about Ray and about our relationship and about my
life in general. Several facts emerged. I love Ray, but I'm not
satisfied with the way things are between us. He's drinking too much,
and lately he seems to have given up caring about it. Nothing is so
important to him as that cold can of beer. He is slowly but surely
self-destructing, and it's painful as hell to watch him. I don't
understand him. Why is he doing it? And why do I hang on?
Another fact: he
never talks to me. Not even frivolous, passing-the-time-of-day
conversation. It reminds me of those lonely, horrible days last summer
when I was living at Bobby's. I feel like a piece of furniture. A hot
water bottle. A dishwasher. When there's no one else available, talk to
Lack of money and
lack of transportation forced us to stay home all weekend. Mike was
gone on a fishing trip so that left the two of us alone. At first I was
deliriously happy about the situation, until it became clear that Ray
was bored and frustrated and felt "cooped up" in the house with me. His
main concern was keeping himself in beer. This would have been an
excellent opportunity for us to sit down and have a good, air-clearing
heart to heart, but instead he drank himself into a stupor and I had my
usual task of half-carrying, half-dragging him down the hall to bed at
Another fact: I am
jealous as hell of Mike. I was thinking about this the other day while
reading a diary I'd written at age eleven ... back in the days when I
would be gut-wrenchingly jealous if Sandy played with Patty,
or Anita played with Shannon, and I was left out in the cold. I
couldn't stand being the third wheel. I guess I still can't. Mike is
ALWAYS here, it seems, and he totally monopolizes Ray's time. I sit on
the sofa and listen to the two of them chattering animatedly in the
kitchen, and it hurts. Ray doesn't talk to me
that way. I'm jealous and resentful of the time & attention Ray
gives Mike. At times like that I feel as though I don't even exist.
They go out and do
the grocery shopping without even consulting me, and then the only two
items I specifically asked them to pick up were the two items they
God, I sound like a
baby. Imagine feeling jealous of your boyfriend's buddy. I should be
shot. Or maybe Mike should be.
Another thought: my
period is due today, but so far I haven't been feeling any of the
usual, familiar "warning signals" ... which of course makes me wonder
again if I could be pregnant. It's a possibility, but not a possibility
that I intend to regard seriously unless another week goes by. Like
everything else, this is something that Ray and I haven't discussed in
weeks and weeks. His last official comment on the possibility was, "If
it happens, it happens." Not exactly a vow of support (emotional or
otherwise), but not exactly a plea for birth control, either. At this
point I have no idea how he feels about it. A couple of months ago he
was quite adamant about wanting me to get pregnant - eager, almost. Now
I don't know. For that matter, I'm not even sure how I feel about it.
If I thought for a minute that having a baby would help straighten Ray
out and would get our relationship back on firmer ground, then I would
probably go ahead and do it. It's the alternative that scares me. What
if I become pregnant, and things between Ray and I continue to be as
crummy as they are now? I wonder who would suffer the most?
I'm just going to
keep my big mouth shut about this until I know for sure, at least. No
sense prophesying gloom and doom until there's a reason. I've become
such a fatalist anymore; always expecting the worst.
April 2, 1981
My period still
hasn't started, and already I'm beginning to act stupid about it.
April 5, 1981
Ray and Mike are
repairing the bathroom, and I'm sitting here in the kitchen feeling
cranky and irritable. EVERYTHING Mike says or does drives me right
straight up a wall, and I don't know why. Maybe it's his attitude
toward women. He has zero respect for them, and I do mean zero. His
philosophy (as expressed this morning) is "Vip
it in, vip it out, vipe it off and vamoose." Honest
to God, that's what he said. I could have slapped him.
Things between Ray
and I have improved somewhat. I think that I was just in a particularly
rotten mood when I wrote my last couple of journal entries. Of course
he talks to me. It's just that he doesn't talk to me the way Scott used
to, and I miss that. I don't mean that my relationship with Scott was
"better" than the one I have now with Ray ... it was just different.
It's hard to keep myself from comparing the two, and sometimes I really
miss certain aspects of my relationship with Scott. I miss
conversation. Sometimes Scott used to drive me right up the wall with
his incessant chatter. I've never in my life known anyone who loved to
talk as much as he did. Once he got started, the only thing that would
shut him up was unconsciousness! Sometimes when I talk to Randy, he
reminds me so much of Scott that it hurts.
In all fairness to
Ray, though, there are so many qualities in him - and in our
relationship - that I never had with Scott. Ray has a sensitivity and
gentleness that Scott never had. Scott was self-assured to the point of
arrogance; Ray has a more humble demeanor. But I suppose the most
important difference between them is that Ray is willing to make a
commitment, complete with marriage, and kids, and all that goes along
with. Scott always warned me not to expect anything permanent -
especially children - because he'd already gone that route and he
didn't want to do it again. In fact he threatened vasectomy on a
regular basis, which used to just rip me apart. He'd already had two
kids, and that was enough as far as he was concerned. Never mind the
fact that I was twenty years old and had never been married or had
children, and I was desperately in love with him and wanted to have a
family with him.
April 14, 1980
in the bedroom
Over a week later
... guess I must have lost my train of thought.
Things are once
again almost ridiculously screwed. Impression of the hour: Ray's
parents DON'T like me, because they think I'm a freeloader. (Hoo! Ray's
father just knocked on the bedroom door ... he wanted to have a quick
"heart to heart." GULP. More about all of this later -- hopefully.)
April 22, 1981
Morning ... I just
woke up, as a matter of fact. Mike is out in the living room, hollering
on the telephone, which is what woke me up. He has the world's loudest
voice, I swear. I'm still struggling to accept him living here with us,
but it sure as hell ain't EASY. We've already had a couple of major
blow-outs, and every time that happens, Ray finds himself caught in the
middle. Luckily, he seems more willing to take my part. Otherwise I
would feel completely outnumbered and betrayed.
My period still
hasn't started. I looked at a calendar and figured that the last
regular period started March 4th, which would at this moment make me
about a month pregnant ... if I am. Also: one week from today my second
period is due to start, technically. So if it doesn't start, that means
I've missed two periods in a row.
There's a lot more
I'd like to add, but I don't really feel motivated enough to write this
morning. Maybe after a cup of coffee.
A little later
Yes, a cup of
coffee helped. It has cleared away the last fuzzy remnants of last
night's dreams (I killed Danny Kent - ???) and maybe down I can jot
down a few coherent thoughts.
(And then when she
gets her head together enough to write something, she
doesn't write anything.
April 24, 1981
Mike and his
girlfriend Ann are preparing to leave for a movie ... Ray and I are
staying home, I think? (Although Mike is loaning us his car for the
evening.) Steve and Beth Klein are going to stop by shortly; they're
interested in buying Ray's sofa. Feeling slightly happier than usual,
but it's nothing to shout about. Underneath it all I'm still the
depressed, stagnant person I always am anymore. Even the idea of
possibly (probably) being pregnant isn't giving me much cause for joy,
the way it might have a few months ago. Ray refuses to even talk about
it unless I push the issue, and when we do talk about it, he acts so
damned down-in-the-mouth about the whole thing that I feel positively
guilty for having brought it up. What am I supposed to do, though? I've
got to talk to somebody about this. I'm not even sure if I am pregnant,
for that matter, but it would sure help to have someone to discuss the
possibility with. I'm dying to talk to Mom, but until I resolve things
with Ray I won't be able to carry the news to anyone else, including my
Monday night 7 p.m.
April 27, 1981
Sipping a cup of
freshly-brewed coffee ... old "MASH" re-run on TV ... living room
curtains are still open, revealing the end of another cloudy, gray,
end-of-April day. Ray just woke up from a late afternoon nap and is
sitting, cigarette in hand and hair still mussed from sleep, on the
sofa opposite me. (We'll be losing this sofa soon, dammit. The Kleins
are definitely buying it. Crud: I'm sure going to miss it. But we need
The last couple of
days have been almost unbelievably depressing. I don't know whether
I've just become too sensitive or whether Ray has become less so - or a
combination of both - but it seems as though lately he hardly notices
if I'm in the same room with him. I have to ASK for a hug or a kiss,
and I've completely stopped saying "I love you" because it seems like
I'm the only one who says it anymore. Once in a while, when I can't
stand it anymore, I ask him "Do you love me?" and he'll always nod and
mumble an assent, but it's not the same thing as being told
spontaneously, and FREQUENTLY. The only thing is: I can't remember
whether he has always been like this, or whether I'm just imagining
this new problem? Or whether I'm just beginning to notice that Ray
isn't as openly demonstrative as I would like? I know it sounds
ridiculous, but it's all tied in with my same old problems of fear and
insecurity ... my constant need for reassurance. If he doesn't SAY "I
love you," I assume that he doesn't love me. I'm always afraid that I'm
going to be deserted again.
father "deserted" her when she was three years old.
It must never happen again.
As for being
maybe-pregnant ... it's becoming less and less a matter of "maybe" and
more "probably." I have now (just barely) missed two periods. I can't
bear to even LOOK at a can of beer, much less DRINK it, and I only get
one-third of the way through a cigarette before it makes me violently
nauseous. On Saturday morning, Mike's girlfriend
Ann accidentally interrupted me throwing up in the bathroom,
and in a moment of weakness I broke down and told her. Normally she
would be the last person on earth I would confide in about something
like this, but I'm daily becoming more and more filled with curiousity
and speculation, and I have to share it with somebody ...
I figure I'm
probably going to have to take a pregnancy test pretty quick, if only
to confirm what I've already accepted as fact. I hate to bring it up
with Ray, though. I'm scared! Who knows what his reaction will be.
Prenatal care isn't going to be cheap, and that's just the tip of the
iceberg. I'm saddling him with an awesome amount of responsibility, and
I'm wondering how he's going to feel about it. I have no doubt he will
love this child. But will love alone suffice?
At this point it doesn't even seem real. Maybe in another couple of
months or so, when things start happening to my body, it will seem more
real than it does now.
April 28, 1981
The next day.
Holed-up in my bedroom like a squirrel in a cage ... feeling restless,
but at the same time too devoid of energy to DO anything. Cloudy, gray
day. "All My Children" on TV. Mike is asleep in the room next to mine.
Working on my second mug of coffee ... crumbs from my cheese sandwich
on the rumpled sheets.
Woke up feeling
crampy this morning. This is a concern which needs to be voiced: if
I'm pregnant, how come I've been having these continual, menstrual-like
cramps for the past month & a half?
April 30, 1981
Listening to a tape
of old Monkees music that I put together earlier today. The thought
just occurred to me that this music is going to seem very, very old to
my kid ... it will probably seem utterly ridiculous. For some reason
this is a vaguely depressing thought.
Drinking a beer,
although I know I really shouldn't be. Sorry, Jesse.
I owe pen pal
letters to: Jaime Trumbo,
Bonita Stognief, Amanda Prothero, Georgia Rodriguez, Nancie Goldberg,
Arlene Rodriguez, Linda Lynch, Michele Manzo, Margie Blank, Susan Rich,
Tammy Cooper, Roger Whitley
May 2, 1981
Saturday night ...
sitting on the living room floor with my second can of 7-Up and "Love
Boat" on TV ... Ray is perched on the edge of the wicker chair,
restless and agitated. Mike and Ann are making love in the next room --
I can hear them talking and laughing. Burned out. Ray and I went to The
Town Crier for a few hours last night with Scott and Leslie. The three
of them were high on acid, but I didn't even smoke cigarettes. Today
I've been tired. This will probably be an early evening for me. My body
seems to be undergoing a few changes, and I'm tired a LOT lately. I'm
still having those bothersome, period-like cramps and they have me
worried, but I plan to schedule a doctor's appointment this coming week
and then maybe I'll know exactly what's going on.
definitely better between Ray and I these days, anyhow. We've talked a
few times about me being pregnant, but haven't yet made any plans or
decisions. It still seems so unreal and far-off in the future, and I
feel no need to jump into anything right away. We've been getting along
so well lately, I hate to rock the boat.
Mike & Ann
have now left for some party, but to my surprise and delight Ray turned
down their invitation to go along and chose to stay home w/me instead.
May 8, 1981
wondering where Ray is. It's 7:00 now and he hasn't even called yet.
Sitting on the unmade bed.
May 26, 1981
JOURNAL!! I'm so
ashamed ... it's been weeks & weeks since I've scribbled so
much as one word in you. Several important changes have taken place
recently, but I've just been too distracted, or too lazy - or something
- to write. I'll try to catch up a bit now.
Tuesday noon ...
sitting, cross-legged, on the sofa with a cup of instant coffee
(bleccch) and "AMC" on the tube. Sunny day, but a little cool. I've got
the kitchen door open in an effort to clear out the smoke I created
while cooking my breakfast ... hot cakes and sausage, which were
delicious. It was the first bona fide meal that I've eaten in two days.
Lately my appetite has dwindled away to practically nothing, which I
can't figure out. Isn't a woman's appetite supposed to increase
during pregnancy? With me it's just the opposite: I have to force
myself to eat. To make it even more complicated, my tastes have
undergone a radical change, and foods that I usually love now turn my
stomach. I crave fresh, cold foods ... salads, fruit, cottage cheese,
stuff like that. Meat, or anything greasy or spicy, is generally out of
There is no doubt
whatsoever in my mind that I am pregnant. I still have that remote,
far-off-in-the-future feeling about it, to a degree, but at the same
time it's becoming more & more a reality. Happily, things have
never been better between Ray and I. We went through that awful,
uncomfortable period of non-communication a couple of months ago, but
that's all over with. I'm not sure, but I think my pregnancy has
something to do with it. Somehow, we seem to be closer and more in tune
with each other than ever before. We've had The Big Discussion -- the
one where everything was brought out into the open, we both faced the
fact that I'm pregnant and admitted our real feelings about the
situation. To my immense, unspeakable relief and joy, Ray told me that
he is happy about me having his baby. And he was sincere. It was a
beautiful and special moment.
everybody in the world knows about it, including - I think? - Ray's
parents. Gulp. Word has leaked out at Western Kraft, and I guess that
Ray's co-workers have been giving him a lot of good-natured ribbing
about becoming a "Daddy." I called my mother and told her, and just as
I predicted she was thrilled.
Off the subject of
my pregnancy for a minute: another wonderful change is that I now have
a car again!!!!!! Ray bought it a couple weeks ago from a guy at work -
it's a '67 Dodge Coronet - and even though it looks every inch a
fourteen year old car, in my eyes it's the most beautiful hunk of
machinery in the world. After months and months of longing for a car,
it's finally happened.
May 30, 1981
I've made a
"sort-of" resolution ... doomed to fail, no doubt, but resolved
nonetheless ... throughout the rest of my pregnancy, I want to be
consistent about writing in my journal. Every day, if possible, or at
least every other day. I know I've made similar resolutions in the
past, and sometimes it's taken hold and sometimes it hasn't ... this
time, though, I think that it's more important than ever that I keep an
accurate record of my life and feelings.
Saturday morning -
a cool, overcast day - a relief from the scorchingly hot weather we had
all week. I just crawled out of bed after a night of weird, twisted
dreams. (A plane crash, en route from Hawaii.) Ray is working. He
called me last night at 12:30 a.m. from Dave's Place, drunk as a skunk,
and insisted that I drive all the way down there and pick him up. I was
mad as hell but I didn't really have a choice unless I wanted him to
spend the night at the tavern. I hate driving alone that late at night:
especially on the long, curving, deserted roads between here &
Dave's. He passed out in the car before I even got him home: it took
super-human effort to get his clothes off and drag him in to bed.
I'm not angry about
it anymore, but I hope this doesn't become a regular thing.
Sitting on the sofa
with a cup of herbal tea, watching Don McLean on "American Bandstand."
Still in my bathrobe. No plans for the day, nor, for that matter, for
the rest of the weekend. Mike is gone for a couple of days, thank God.
changing to hesitant sunlight. Pepperoni pizza in the oven, baking.
Watching out the window for him to come home.
June 1, 1981
Dinner tonight is a
joint effort: Ray put together one of his meatloaves stuffed with
cheese, and I've fixed my famous au gratin potatoes. Everything is in
the oven and wonderful smells are emanating from the kitchen. I'm
ravenous, for a change. According to the book, I'm about twelve weeks
along, and the nausea is supposed to stop. I wonder if that means my
appetite will return to normal too? I hope so. I've completely quit
smoking, and don't intend to start again after the baby is born.
Hopefully I'll stay away from alcohol, too. But it would be nice to
have my appetite back to normal again.
June 3, 1981
Nothin' much to
say, but I thought I'd scribble a couple of words anyway. Cloudy
evening, raining gently. Ray has gone to make a "burger run" to
McDonald's; I'm sitting at the kitchen table with cup of coffee #2,
listening to a tape I made the other day ("Mistral Wind" by Heart is on
now). They've zapped our water again, for the second day in a row. Ray
is going to surreptitiously turn it back on after dark, but in the
meantime there's a stack of dirty dishes a mile high sitting on the
kitchen counter, and I'm suffering with what could possibly be the
world's dirtiest head of hair. Yuck. Not really hungry, but I suppose a
Big Mac is better than nothing.
My energy level
today has been non-existent. Ray took the car to work with him, and I
lay on the sofa all day, watching soap operas, nursing the beginning of
a sore throat.
Tomorrow I've got
to go down to Grandma and Grandpa's for a couple of days. I'm not
exactly looking forward to it, but it shouldn't be all that bad.
Grandma has gone to Victoria for her college reunion, and she wants me
to stay with Grandpa while she's away. I figure I owe it to them for
all the times I've let them down the past few years -- two missed
Christmases, for one thing.
June 4, 1981
Mike just dropped
by with Ann's brother ... long enough to pick up some things from his
room and split. He's moving out this weekend, I think: in the meantime
he's screwed Ray over for a LOT of money, including rent, and Ray is in
such a financial bind that we're living without running water because
we can't afford to pay the water bill.
June 11, 1981
Ray has the car
today, and I've spent the day cleaning house and listening to music.
Mike is now completely moved out of the house - except for his washing
machine and his wicker chair - and the atmosphere around this house is
more relaxed and comfortable than it's been in three months.
surprise, huh? It has been absolutely & positively confirmed,
and now the process of accepting the reality of it begins. I saw Dr.
Pheifer on Monday afternoon, had all the tests and the full
examination, and he says that I'm due December 9th. He also used a
special stethoscope that allowed me to hear the baby's heartbeat inside
of me, which was incredible ... it sounded like it was coming from
another galaxy ... but it was jolting proof that there is actually a
living PERSON growing inside of me!! And while I may not be feeling
particularly maternal just yet, it's still an almost mystical feeling,
knowing that Ray and I created it.
Ray has been
beautiful about it. He picked me up on Monday after my appointment, and
he was visibly moved when I told him it was for "real," and that I'd
heard the baby's heartbeat. He called it "the happiest day of his
life." We went to Taco Time for a quick lunch, and then drove to Randy
and Marcie Weaver's house to share our good news with them. They
weren't home, so we walked down to the slough, where we fed sunflower
seeds to the ducks and picked buttercups and talked about the baby.
Ray was home for
about ten seconds before dashing back out, to have a few belated
birthday drinks with his brother Don. So I'm alone.
Why am I afraid
that I won't love this baby if it's not attractive? I'm afraid of
having an ugly baby? God. How shallow of me.
June 14, 1981
A quick word after
another lovely, lazy Sunday ... thinking about the baby. I feel an
occasional twinge of impatience; another six months loom ahead. An
eternity. So many worries. Does everyone feel like this?
June 20, 1981
Ray is asleep and
snoring gently on the sofa next to me, covered with the afghan, his
fist pressed tightly against one cheek. Right now he looks about six
years old. It's only 9:00 but he's been fast asleep for an hour
already; last night was another one of "those" nights when he didn't
come stumbling in until way past midnight, so he's wiped out tonight.
I've been "blue"
the last few days. Nothing I can put my finger on - just a basic case
of the blues. Down in the dumps, knowing that none of Ray's friends and
almost none of his relatives approve of me having this baby. They all
think I'm ruining Ray's life. I hate to go anywhere with him anymore;
even Dave's Place makes me feel unwanted.
Ray going to ask me to marry him? Ever? Sort of.
is this person I'm carrying around inside of me? Your future best friend.
Jesus coming back to Earth on the 28th?? No ... but He
asked for a raincheck.
June 21, 1981
The next day. (My
God ... you mean I'm actually writing something in my journal two days
in a row??) The first official day of summer, but the same cloudy gray
weather we've had all month. (Which of course has made me very happy.)
This is also Father's Day - technically, Ray's first! The car is
temporarily out of order, as is the tellyphone, so we're sorta cut off
from the rest of the world. I'm hoping that later on Ray will get the
car running so I can get to a phone booth and give Dad a call. I sent
him a letter a few days ago, telling him he's going to be a
"grandpa," and he's probably received it by now: I'm anxious to find
out how he feels about it. He's probably going to be thrilled, and
considering all the negativity I've had to deal with lately, a little
optimism would be welcome.
Ray is washing his
hair in the sink; Ted Nugent is on the stereo, belting out "Just What
The Doctor Ordered." I'm sitting at the kitchen table CAUTIOUSLY
drinking a beer. In the past two or three months I've practically given
up drinking altogether. Now that the morning sickness has begun to let
up a bit, I find that I'm able to tolerate
June 25, 1981
Trying to get my
"internal motor" started ... I've been so lethargic lately. Can usually
barely crawl out of bed before noon. I've got a big pot of coffee
brewing ... "Ryan's Hope" on TV (are they going to let Kimberly Harris
die?) ... sitting in the "new" armchair that Dad brought over for Ray
Sunday was fun.
It's a very rare occasion when someone drives all the way over the
Eastside to see me, so it was a special treat. Dad took us out for
Chinese food, and we talked happily about the baby, among other things.
Dad is just as excited & happy about it as I knew
he would be.
Next weekend I get
my kittens! Two of them!
When Dad left, Ray
and I sat up in the kitchen until midnight. Monday - yesterday - I felt
predictably awful and so did Ray; he ended up staying home from work.
We barbecued steaks for dinner and fell asleep around 9:00.
And thus passeth
the days ... one at a time. December is a million miles away.
preferences: I'm beginning to favor the name "Stacie" for a girl.
July 3, 1981
A quiet, peaceful
summer evening ... growing dark outside but all the windows and doors
are still open, a cool breeze is blowing through the living room. Ray
has run over to see Scott & Leslie; I'm watching "Obsession"
(Cliff Robertson, Genevieve Bujold), sipping an orange soda.
Firecrackers going off in the distance.
My kittens, hidden
and sleeping under the armchair beneath me, are Samantha ("Sammi" for
short) and Cecil ("Ce Ce"). I'm already nuts about them. I love to
watch them, and I envy them their ceaseless energy. We've had a streak
of wickedly hot and stuffy days, and my own energy level is
nonexistent. Today it was all I could do to wash the dishes.
July 4, 1981
The Fourth of July,
and a day so pleasant - so far - that it merits mention. Ray is out in
the carport, working on the broken lawnmower; it's warm and brilliantly
sunny today. I've spent the past hour vacuuming the whole house with
the vacuum cleaner we borrowed from Cathi: now I'm taking a break.
Sitting in the armchair directly in front of the electric fan, watching
Ray out the window. (Looks like he finally got it started.) Bob Seger
on the stereo, "Against The Wind" ... takes me back to last year. The
smell of freshly mown grass wafting through the open window. Cecil is
sitting beside me in the chair, trying to get my attention by swatting
at my pen. Right now I feel almost completely happy. I'm enjoying
(One year ago right
now I was passed out cold in my bed. Remember fat, disgusting Jerry S.
from the office???)
July 6, 1981
Watching "All My
Children" and drinking a cup of coffee. I just got out of bed. It's
cloudy and raining again, which made it easier to stay in bed (and that
much more difficult to get up).
Saturday night -
the Fourth - was spent at Dave & Cathi's house, along with
Scott & Leslie, shooting off fireworks and playing
poker. While we were there, I had ANOTHER accident - I stepped on
something sharp, a piece of glass I think, and severely gouged my right
foot. I've got it bandaged and elevated, and I'm trying to stay off it
as much as possible. It hurts like hell but there isn't much else I can
do about it. At least Ray is finally beginning to believe me when I
tell him I'm accident-prone!
Pick up living room
Lunch? (fried tatoes and warmed over roast?)
July 22, 1981
A summer evening
... sitting on the sofa in new maternity clothes and bare feet, sipping
my customary orange soda. The news is winding down to a close on TV:
Ray is out in the carport, clearing out all the junk and straightening
things up. He's burning scrap paper in the Webber, and I can smell the
acrid smoke drifting in through the empty windows. An overcast
- but warm & stuffy - evening.
My life is
extremely routine these days ... boring, in fact. A couple weeks ago I
got my income tax refund, $313, and for a while there was money in my
pocket and gas in the car and my days were full. The money is gone now,
and we're back to being dirt poor. Our water has been shut off again,
which would make life intolerable were it not for Ray's skill at
sneaking out to the meter after dark with his tools & turning
the water back on in the evening: long enough to get the dishes and
laundry done, take a shower and wash my hair, flush the toilet, and
then fill up enough jars and containers with fresh water to get me
through the next day. I never realized how much I take our modern
conveniences for granted!
Sammi and CeCe are
hunched over their yellow plastic dish, wolfing down their supper of
Kitten Chow and milk. In the almost-month since we added them to our
household, they've nearly doubled in size. They have also developed
very distinct personalities. I spend so much time with them around the
house every day, they seem like little "people" to me. I take them
outside in the backyard with me in the afternoons; I sit at the picnic
table and read, while they run and play at my feet. As long as they're
within the confines of their own house or yard, they're utterly
fearless. If the big cat next door happens to stroll through the
carport, though, they raise their little backs and hiss at the
intruder, backing up at the same time & looking over their
shoulders to make sure I'm standing nearby. (I'm their "mama.")
Been very depressed
lately - guilty, more than anything else - about our financial
situation. Ray is breaking his back to make sure our bills are paid and
that we've got food to eat, but somehow there never seems to be enough.
We're always in debt somewhere. And here I am, unemployed and pregnant
and contributing exactly zilch to the situation. I've felt bad about
this before, certainly, but lately the guilt pangs are more pervasive
and troublesome than ever before. Every day I become more pregnant:
maybe that's what is making it so difficult for me to enjoy a clear
conscience. Lately I've been wondering if I'm doing the right thing, or
if Ray's family and friends are right about me. Should I be having this
baby? We're barely making ends meet now as it is: what can we expect,
come December? Am I ruining Ray's life? My own? The baby's?
right now is very good, very solid. Sometimes we talk about money, or
about the baby and what a financial strain he may be, but for the most
part we're united in our (blind? naive?) optimism. We're thinking about
getting married next month. It won't be any big deal - probably just
slipping off some weekend, finding a justice of the peace or whatever.
Not exactly the church-and-white-lace wedding of my girlhood dreams,
but as I've gotten older, some things have lessened in importance. Have
I said that before? It's true. The important thing is marrying Ray. I
don't care where, or how.
I do want a nice,
big reception, though - maybe a month or two later. Sometime in the
fall. Lots of friends and family and champagne and food and music.
more I would like to write about, but I'm going to lay back and RELAX
(after such an exciting & exhausting day, ha ha).
Almost noon ...
just crawled out of bed. Headachy from a morning full of strange,
jumbled-together dreams. I dreamed that I had my baby, a daughter, but
she was born prematurely and wasn't expected to live. I asked
the doctors if I could see her, and they opened the door to a small
room, where she lay in her crib. I looked at her and said "Ohhh
... she's so pretty
." She had big, liquid-blue eyes
and a lot of straight, coppery brown hair. All I wanted to do was run
over and pick her up in my arms; instead, the doctors handed me a list
of "infant burial options." Accck.
I just let the
"monkeys" outta the bathroom, where they've apparently been "trapped"
all morning ... they marched out, all stiff-backed and indignant. How
dare I imprison them??
I'm so afraid of
losing this baby. Sometimes I completely stop planning ahead because
I'm so certain I'm not going to carry her to term. Our stunted finances
lately have prevented me from eating all the good, healthy foods I
should be eating. The other day I had two biscuits with honey and a
glass of milk - for the entire day. That was it. Even now, the fridge
is nearly empty, and I'm drinking a cup of (forbidden) coffee. All
these things added together make me so afraid at times ...
God. Do all
pregnant women worry this much??? One minute I'm worried that I may be
ruining a lot of lives by having this baby in the first place, the next
minute I'm worried about whether she'll be healthy and normal.
(Today the baby is
"she" ... notice? Undoubtedly because of the dream I had. This morning
I feel very close to her, in spite of all the worries.)
THE THING THAT
GIVES ME HOPE is that I've been feeling the baby moving this past week
... and what an odd sensation that
is! The first time it happened I didn't really know what was going on.
I thought I was miscarrying. Since then, it's been happening more
regularly, and each time I feel her move, it helps reassure me that
maybe everything is OK after all. Whoever compared it to "butterfly
wings," anyway??? This baby KICKS, and none too gently, either!!
(Got a lap-full of
G.H. is almost over
... gonna put my dirty hair into pigtails ... change my shirt ... fix
something to eat (I'm starved) ... make the bed ... pick up the kitchen
& living room ... check the mail.
CeCe: temperamental, wary of strangers
Evening (8:00) and
Ray isn't home yet. Today was payday and he took the car with him this
morning, so I sorta expected him to be later than usual. Watching "Mork
& Mindy," thinking. Hungry. Waiting for my
bottom-of-the-refrigerator dinner to finish cooking - baked potato, two
plain hot dogs, canned green beans.
The baby has been
moving around inside of me all day, and so she has seemed very close
and very real.
July 24, 1981
Cup of coffee -
hair in rollers - face freshly made-up, early for a change. "Family
Feud" on TV. Watching out the window for the Viacom people to come
install our new cable TV service: we're getting Home Box Office, too,
which I'm excited about. (As if I don't watch enough television every
day as it is.)
I had a rough night
last night. Ray and I had pepperoni and meatball sandwiches for dinner,
and I was awake most of the night with incredible heartburn. Then when
I did fall asleep, I had more of those weird, twisted dreams. (I was
looking at secondhand maternity clothes at Value Village. In a back
room of the store they gave me a drug that turned me into an eight foot
tall monster, and I lost my memory for several hours. When I came to,
the whole store had been rearranged and Ray had gone home with some
other women. I stalked out of the store, threatening the manager with a
I haven't had The
Moving Dream in a little while ... the one where, for one reason or
another, I'm being forced to move out of my home, usually to someplace
I hate. That dream always disturbs the hell out of me, and I don't miss
it. Maybe I've stopped having it because I've finally found a real
"home" ... a place where I feel established and secure and comfortable.
Sheryl and Mike have both come and gone, and now it's just Ray and I
living here, and I LOVE that.
The last time I
allowed myself to feel that way about a place was the apartment I
shared with Scott W., and look what happened - I was betrayed. But not
this time. I just know it. I trust Ray, and I believe in our
relationship. This is it, folks ... "for keeps."
Oh yes - I also had
another "baby dream" last night, of sorts. I walked out to my car and
there was a baby with blonde hair and a yellow sleeper, hanging from
the window on the drivers side. Not hanging from the neck - just sort
of suspended upright. At first I thought it was dead, but then I picked
it up and it was warm and heavy and had pink cheeks.
A little past eight
and Ray isn't home yet. He was going to come home early and spend the
evening with me, but he has obviously changed his mind. I'm bored and
lonely. And pissed.
Good Lord. Talk
about a spoiled, pouty BRAT ... that's exactly what I sound like, isn't
it? How embarrassing. Ray is home, and everything is hunky-dory.
July 25, 1981
Slow, easy day ...
Ray and I are sitting in the living room, surrounded by newspapers,
watching Pro Bowling on one of our new cable TV channels. Hot and sunny
outside. Lazy. No special plans for this morning, or the rest of the
weekend, for that matter.
July 27, 1981
OK. Now my dreams
are getting TOO bizarre. Last night I dreamed I was taking care of two
babies, but suddenly they turned into kittens and I accidentally
drowned them. Dave and Cathi, Scott and Leslie and my mother were all
there, yelling at me and berating me for being a lousy, irresponsible
July 28, 1981
A blessedly welcome
break in the heat this morning ... the sky is clouded over, and the
cooler air feels wonderful. Having a cup of coffee; heating up a bunch
of fried potatoes and leftover steak; watching Senaca & Rae
haggle over who will raise Kimberly's baby. Today will be another
average, routine day of light housework, soap operas, talking to the
"monkeys," feeling the baby kick, scribbling things in my journal.
Almost time to buy a new journal, isn't it? I was hoping that one book
would cover my entire pregnancy, but I guess not: instead, one will
cover the beginning of the pregnancy, and another book will cover the
latter months and the actual birth. (The actual birth???? Gulp.)
FEELINGS ABOUT GIVING BIRTH:
Anxiety, if I think
about it at all. At this point the whole business of labor seems as
remote and far away as the baby itself. When I do think about
childbirth and try to imagine what it will be like, I think of waves
& waves of awful pain in the middle of the night. Doctors and
nurses milling around in surgical clothes and masks. Lots of shiny
metallic things clanking, and paper rustling, and Ray hovering
somewhere nearby. But mainly - the pain. I have such a low pain
threshold. Is it really as bad as they say?? I don't know how I'll be
able to stand it. I could NEVER go in for natural childbirth, in spite
of all the so-called advantages. I'm afraid I'll have to insist on
whatever painkillers they'll give me - and as much of it as possible.
Ray wants to be in
the delivery room with me. I'm not sure what his exact function will
be, other than support and encouragement, but at least he'll have the
thrill of seeing his child being born. It gives me a good feeling,
knowing that he wants to be there. My father was aghast when he heard
July 29, 1981
Trying to write
with my lap full of kittens ... no easy task, since Sammi keeps
swatting at my pen.
Had a bad scare
last night -- felt a few sharp pains in my abdomen, and was sure that I
was losing the baby.
Friday evening 8:00
July 31, 1981
The last day of
July. Balmy, pleasant evening ... sitting in front of the fan, waiting
for Ray to come back from a quick run to the store. We're roasting game
hens on the Webber for dinner, and I'm trying to work up an appetite.
"Benson" on TV. Ray will probably want to watch that ridiculous
"Kingdom of the Spiders" tonight: I'll read or something. He has to
work tomorrow, sadly enough, so we won't have another long lazy weekend
The house is neat,
clean and orderly; the freezer is full; a load of laundry is swirling
around in the washer.
Still feeling cramp
and achy in my pelvic area. The past couple days have been worse than
usual, and I'm worried. Hang
in there, Baby. He/she is still
kicking regularly, and I guess that's a good sign.
Thursday early evening
August 6, 1981
summer evening. I have strategically placed myself in front of the fan,
with my hair in a ponytail and the cuffs of my pants rolled up around
Friday morning 7 a.m.
August 7, 1981
Early morning. Ray
accidentally slept through his alarm, so I had to crawl out of bed and
drive him to work. I'm tired. Last night it was so damned hot &
stuffy that I barely got three hours' sleep, probably. I tried going
back to bed when I got home a little while ago, but with no luck. Now
I'm sitting in the living room with my as yet untouched first cup of
coffee ... "Good Morning America" ... thinking about getting all the
housework done early, before it gets too hot. It's supposed to get up
into the 90's again today. Crud.
Today I'm going to
bring this final black journal to a close. Last night I bought a new,
blue spiral-bound notebook, and I'm itching to get started with it. So
much is going to happen within its pages.
Summer 1981 is:
to my "people," Sammi & Cecil ... no running water for days at
a time ... Joe Kelly and Heather Webber on "General Hospital" ...
spending my income tax refund on maternity clothes and headbands ...
orange soda ... toffee ice cream bars ... Ray's fireworks on the Fourth
of July ... cloudy, overcast weather ... no telephone ... Brad Vernon
& Katrina Karr on "One Life To Live" ... my T-shirt: "I'm Not
Fat, I'm Pregnant" ... Randy and Marcie's party, and weaving our way
home at six in the ayem ... putting too much soap in the coffeemaker,
and drinking Palmolive-flavored MJB for days ... the Royal Wedding ...
flea bites ... little kids on the block coming over to look at my
kittens ... wearing Ray's pants ... potato salad ... Alpha Bits ...
"The Breakup Song," by The Greg Kihn Band ... new photo albums ...
worrying about food stamps & the wrath of Mike Myers ...
wondering where Randy W. is hiding ... putting the houseplants up where
the kittens can't reach them ... Rainier beer ... wedding plans ...
WORRIES AT THE MOMENT:
worrying so obsessively about money & finances all the time.
We're not rich, by any means, and we still can't afford to pay the
water bill or have the phone turned back on or fix the brakes on the
car ... but at least we have food in the fridge, and gas in the car,
and a little spending money. That's right now, anyway. Things are going
to get really tight after the baby is born, and I'm not sure how we're
going to manage, but something - intuition? blind faith?
naiveté? - tells me that we will indeed manage.
What I AM worrying
about: I live in constant terror that Mike Myers is going to come back
to town from Florida & do something terrible when he finds out
we took his food stamps. I worry all the time that something's going to
be wrong with the baby when it's born ... or that it won't be born at
all. I worry about scheduling another appointment with Dr. Pheiffer.
Why do I keep putting it off?? I worry about Ray's family disapproving
of me. I worry that Ray's Dad is going to kick us out of the house I've
grown to love so much. I worry that he might make us get rid of the
kittens. I worry about Grandma & Grandpa V.. I worry about
Ray's friends not liking me, especially Mike R. and Cathi McK..
Ray and I are going
to get our marriage license next Monday - Dave McK. is coming along as
our witness. We're getting married on Friday, August 21. God, it feels
strange to write that!! Two weeks from today. I can hardly believe it.
We haven't decided where the wedding will be, or who to invite - later
today, if it's not too hot, I may walk to a phone booth and make a few
calls. City Hall would be fine. We're going to have a very informal,
low-key ceremony with only our closest family & friends
present. I'm going to invite Dad, Mom, Ken, Debby, Grandma St. John,
and - if they'll come - Grandma & Grandpa. I'm not sure who Ray
will invite from his side of the family, although I've suggested that
he ask his brother Don to stand up with him. It would probably be good
for family relations if he did. As of this writing, Don and his wife,
Judy, are probably our only allies in the immediate P. family. Ray's
dad and all three of his sisters - and, to a lesser extent, his mom -
are all firmly convinced that I am, #1, "all wrong for Ray," #2,
ruining his life by having this baby and "forcing" him into marriage,
and #3, deliberately pulling him away from his family. Most of my
information comes from Judy. The cold-shoulder treatment I get from his
sisters has been obvious for months. Mainly the problem lies between
Sheryl and I. While she was still living here in the house with us,
life was one ugly disagreement after another. EVERYTHING she did rubbed
me the wrong way: she was vain and fussy and arrogant and demanding,
and by the time she finally moved out we weren't even speaking to each
other. Now she has thoroughly bad-mouthed me to everyone else in the
family, to the point where even 11 yr. old Barbara won't have anything
to do with me. Sheryl is also the most vocally opposed to this baby,
according to Judy. I'm afraid that after the baby is born, this
ridiculous ostracism will include him/her, and that hurts. Thanks to
Sheryl, my baby probably won't even get the time of day from its
I can't imagine
myself being married. Terri P.? It doesn't seem possible. What kind of
marriage are we going to have? Will it be a long happy one? Will I be a
good wife? Are we going to be a happy family? THE END
browns, golds, oranges
Strawberries, peaches, pears
Potatoes, peas & onions, broccoli
Barbecued chicken, teriyaki steak
Taxi, Barney Miller, M*A*S*H, WKRP In Cincinnati, All My Children
FAVORITE SONGS THIS
"Summer & Lightning" - ELO
"The Kid Is Hot Tonight" - Loverboy
"Turn Me Loose" - Loverboy
"Passion" - Rod Stewart
"Gi'me Wings" - Rod Stewart
"Matties Rag," "Stealin Time" and "Island" - Gerry Rafferty (from his
old "City to City album)
"You Better You Bet" - The Who
"Jesse's Girl" - Rick Springfield
"Angel of the Morning" - Juice Newton
"Bette Davis Eyes" - Kim Carnes
"The Waiting" - Tom Petty
"Prove Your Love" - Fleetwood Mac (an oldie from the "Heroes Are Hard
To Find" album)
"You're A Hard Act To Follow" - Split Enz
"Seven Year Ache" - Rosanne Cash
"Into My Life" - an oldie by Three Dog Night
"The Breakup Song" - Greg Kihn band
"Queen of Hearts" - Juice Newton
"Someone Tonight" - REO Speedwagon
"Hold On Tight" - new song by ELO
they go, and I'm their leader.
Pick up living room and kitchen
Clean oven rack
Clean bedroom - make bed (wash sheets?)
Put laundry away
Hair & makeup
Kimberli - Melissa
- Jamie - Kasey - Andrea - Karly/Karli - Shauna - Stace - Brandie
(Brandis) - Kyla - Jesse Ryan
Frank & Faith (no more)
Rae takes the blame for killing Michael Pavel (Kim did it.)
Tom is charged with the murder of Nelson Manning.
Who does she remind me of?? (Lady/TV commercials/droopy eyes/short
blonde hair/patient smile)
I KNOW! BETH! FROM TAC
Susan Moore is pregnant with Alan Quartermaine's baby. (Arnold
Grandma St. John's reaction: "That's
Rick and Leslie are
going out on a formal date. 6-4-81
Are they gonna kill
Anne Martin today? (3/27/81)
Nope. On Tuesday 3/31.
to throw a rock?