Pregnancy week 37: Don’t call me mistress

Who has a brand spanking new MFA in nonfiction? Why, that must be me!

 

You can just call me Master Maggie from now on. It’s cool. I don’t mind.

I’ve told people that this is my big accomplishment of the year, that this degree makes me prouder than most anything else I’ve ever done. And in response, those people have gasped and said, “But you’re having a BABY. Babies are a blessing. Babies are life’s biggest accomplishment.” They act like I’m skinning kittens and punching orphans.

I’m not a terrible person. I’m excited about the baby too, and I’m grateful to have had a healthy pregnancy thus far. I hoped and cried and planned for this baby. And I know that motherhood will be something to be cherished, something wonderful and strange that I don’t even understand yet.

But having a baby doesn’t make me value this educational achievement any less. I truly worked for this degree, and I put years into it. This degree is my trip around the world, my mom’s life and death, my imaginary characters, my poetry, my grief, my layers of scar tissue. I have given so much to it.

Now I’m finally finished, which is scary and exhilarating. Mostly scary. (I’m actually going to have an emotional breakdown about that very soon. Stay tuned.)

And I graduated in a banging maternity dress. BOOM.

 

The days leading up to graduation were fairly stressful. I met with a couple of agents and editors about my book — meetings that later reduced me to hot, ugly tears, even though they all gave me valuable, thoughtful advice. It was good stuff, really. It just feels like your soul is getting crushed when people don’t say the things you desperately want them to say. Or when they don’t hand you a Publisher’s Clearinghouse-sized check in exchange for your work.

Then I gave my graduate lecture, which probably could have gone better, but it also could have gone worse. I didn’t cry, vomit or lose my mucous plug, so I considered it a success.

Finally I had to say goodbye to the people who have formed my literary community over the past couple years — my protective snowglobe filled with mentors, professors, friends and cheerleaders. And that was sad.

I miss these homies already. And all the rest of my nerds too.

 

 

Speaking of my friends, they are fantastic. My friend Ashley flew in from Dallas and wrangled one hell of a baby shower for me. She enlisted help from a bunch of my friends, and they generously created a memorable night of laughter, lemon cake, lovely gifts and a pin the sperm on the egg game.

 

If I give this baby even half the love, care and kindness that my friends have shown me, he’ll grow up just fine. I am deeply thankful to have such good people in my life.

 

One perk that I’ll miss about my grad school is that we stay at the Omni Rancho Las Palmas Resort for a 10-day residency period twice a year. I’ve always loved the resort, but I don’t think I fully appreciated it until I got pregnant.

I have never been so comfortable in my life. The bed was cozy and delicious, and it came stacked with a zillion tiny pillows that I tucked around my sore body. I had two buffet meals a day, and my room was clean whenever I returned. The shower had the perfect level shelf for me to shave my legs. I worked out, walked the gorgeous property, and every morning I went swimming and soaked in tepid water and purple desert skies.

 

I only wish I could have spent all 9 months there.