Being pregnant

I've never been pregnant before.
Even though I've thought about it many times, I really didn't have a clue what it was going to be like.
Now I'm starting to slowly get a clue.

First three months it was all about feeling sick. All I did was eat, nibble and eat again, just to prevent the feeling of sickness. Coffee made my stomach turn. The deodorant gave me a head ache. I used to love indian food - and now I couldn't stand the smell of it.

Beginning of forth month was nice. I was so happy that I no longer felt sick. This was up until my ass started hurting from Diastasis Symphysis Pubis. And it's not only the ass that starts behaving strangely, so does the knees, the most of the legs as a matter of fact. It's all down to some hormones that makes the skeleton softer. It's supposed to be like that, but it's still very annoying, and it really hurts when doing certain exercises.

Now, when I head in to the fifth month, it's all about eating again. This time it's not to prevent sickness, it's basically from constant hunger. According to certain websites this is when the baby starts putting fat on, and that is the reason for the sudden hunger. I'm telling you, eating is a full time job at this time. And I guess it will get worse.

This is exactly where I am now. And about five months away from delivery date. I have no clue what the five coming months are going to be like, and I definitely don't have a clue about how it's going to be to be a mother. Or what I'm going to be like as a mother.

But I do know this: Even though I no longer recognize my own body, I feel fat, I can't always control my temper, my feelings or my physical body anymore. And even though being a mother will mean putting someone else first, all the time, I am so happy about this little thing that is growing inside of me.

We did a scan in week 15. My sister said he/she looked like a cheese doodle. One friend thought it rather looked like a rabbit. Another one said he/she looked like an alien. And my husband says that he/she looks like a monkey. What ever he/she looks like right now, I think it's the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen.

It truly is a miracle!

Did I create a monster or am I the monster?

A colleague of mine told me, a few weeks ago, about emu oil. She said that lotion containing emu oil is great for people with really dry skin. I got excited, as my husband suffers from dry skin. I ordered the lotion online and when it arrived I gave it to my husband and told him all about its supposed good effects.

He gladly took it, but looked a bit surprised, and said: "Emu oil, doesn't that come from the emu?".

"Of course not!", I said, very sure that there was no chance someone would put oil from an animal in a lotion, and that my colleague would never have recommended something like that to me, as I am a vegetarian. I know, I was a bit naive on both accounts.

It did not take long though, before I started doubting what I had just said, and I searched the net for answers. Of course I found that the oil does come from the emu. The animal is not killed solely for the oil, but that is not much of a comfort for a vegetarian.

The problem is that my husband loves the lotion and has told me straight out that he will keep on using the lotion.

So I am stuck between the happiness of having found a great lotion for my husband, and the sadness of that great lotion containing animal fat. Makes me feel like a hypocrite. But on the other hand, it is not the first time. Every time I wear my leather shoes or my leather hand bag I feel the same.

Actually I very often feel like one, a hypocrite that is. I take a stand by doing or not doing certain things. And just a few minutes later I make an exception on something similar.

Does that make me weak? Or am I just doing my best, and should accept that no one is perfect? Or am I too selfish to sacrifice things that I like and that's why I only sacrifice things that really does not matter to me anyway? Maybe I only do so called good when it suits me?

The Police

The otheer day I went to Globen to see THE POLICE in concert. As we had booked tickets pretty late, and on top of that we were four people that wanted to sit together, we naturally ended up in the so called nose bleed section.

First I was a bit dissapointed, thought that the experience would be totally ruined by having those crappy seats.

Also, I've always thought of Sting as a great artist, but never knew many songs by The Police, so I was a bit afraid that I would not be able to get the right feeling.

But both things mentioned above never became a problem. The concert was great. It did not matter at all that I only knew a few songs. And I totally forgot about the location of our seats. That must mean that the concert was amazing, even if certain critics said otherwise (as always).

The only thing that bothered me was something I read in the newspaper the other day: How can someone like Sting, that seems so great have fired his chef at home for being pregnant? How can he be so aware of environment and human rights and not have any sence of the mistake in discriminating a woman because of her pregnancy? I mean, it's not like he could not afford paying for her one year of maternity leave, or whatever she would have asked for.

Gladly she (the chef) won in court. Sadly Sting lost a few points in my book. But deep inside I'm still hoping that he really is that lovely guy that he seems to be and that it all was just a big, big misunderstanding.

Feeling of Pleasure vs Feeling of Pain

I am totally addicted to chili. Fresh chili, that is. I just love it. But why is it that us human beings don't know when we've reached our limit?

I remember once, in Ghana, when I decided to eat a mixture including lots of fresh chili. I was warned by my husband and the house keeper, and still I ate it. It was lovely.

But the next day it wasn't lovely anymore. I was sitting on the toilet crying from a burning pain in places you don't want a burning pain.

And yesterday I did it again. My husband and I went to a nice Thai restaurant in Vasastan, Stockholm. (It's called Narknoi if anyone reading this would like to go there.) As I'd been there before I knew exactly what I wanted for a starter. They have this really nice, and really hot cucumber/lime/chili salad. I just had to have it, even though I could clearly remember what it had done to me the last time.

I ordered. I ate. I cried. Snot was running. Sweat was running. And I could barely speak for 15 minutes as my tounge felt all swollen. I was in pain!

So, what is it with us people? Why is it that I know that, even though it's painful, I will order the same salad the next time too? Is the feeling of pleasure (the lovely taste I mean) so much stronger and more memorable than the feeling of pain?

Don't us Swedes need to start open up?

Last Thursday I went to a so called "language cafe" outside of Stockholm in a place called Fittja.

It was my first time in Fittja and people who knows me also knows how far away from town I consider that being. It's amazing how quickly you become a sad city slicker. I mean, 10 year ago I lived in a small town in the north of Sweden. The town were I grew up, that is.

Now I have recently moved to a place called Aspudden, after living for many years in the centre of town. Aspudden is a lovely place with lots of green areas, water and even som cliffs. It only takes ten minutes on the tube to get to the City Terminal in Stockholm. The perfect place to live I guess. And still I'm having problems accepting that I'm not living slam bang in the middle of town any more.

So, back to Fittja. I felt a bit lost, at first, when I got there, as it was as far out of town I've ever been on the tube. I did not see much of the place, as the "language cafe" is located a few hundred metres from the tube, so I can't tell you much about Fittja. But my feeling of being lost transformed in to excitment when I got to the cafe.

Short about the cafe. It is organised by SWERA (Swedish Refugee Aid) and it's open for refugees that want to meet Swedes and practice their Swedish. The Swedes there are people that have signed up as volonteers for this and other things, wanting to help in the integration process or/and just meet new interesting people.

So, as I said it was exciting at the meeting. Managed to have really interesting conversations even though the people I spoke to barely spoke any Swedish. It was great, I learned a lot and had lots of fun.

There were way more refugees there than volonteers there though. And it made me think. Are Swedes not interested in meeting people from other cultures? Isn't it as much fun and as interesting for a Swede as for a refugee to learn about other cultures and to meet people that the probably wouldn't meet otherwise? Isn't it just as important for Swedes as it is for foreigners that integration in Sweden works in a better way than it does at the moment?

According to one of the guys I spoke to at the cafe there is no longer any faith/trust between Swedes and foreigners. He blamed the small percentage of refugees that comes here and makes trouble and don't follow the law, as he said. Or actually as he said, wrote and explained with the help of a Swedish - Arabic dictionary. I don't think it's just that simple though. I believe that us Swedes need to open up properly and honestly to new citizens of this country. If we do many of the current problems would go away.