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My Miserable Lonely Lesbian Pregnancy, by Andrea Askowitz
Download PDF My Miserable Lonely Lesbian Pregnancy, by Andrea Askowitz
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In this memoir of her 40 weeks and five days in hell, Andrea Askowitz takes an unflinching look at her pregnant life from struggling with hormones to poor body image to a self imposed exile from family to take us on a ride through the turbulence of single lesbian motherhood. Along the way we meet her liberal parents as they struggle with their daughter's choices, the lover she longs to reconnect with who goes M.I.A. before the pregnancy, the friends who turn out to be no help at all and strangers who offer up some unlikely kindness. Andrea presents herself real, raw, impossibly cranky yet deeply touching with her self-deprecating dark sense of humor that will make you wince or better yet send you into uncontrollable fits of laughter.
- Sales Rank: #1177060 in eBooks
- Published on: 2008-04-03
- Released on: 2008-04-03
- Format: Kindle eBook
Review
"Andrea Askowitz brilliant debut memoir is the exact kind of thing I'm always looking for at the bookstore--something that reads like an intimate yet super funny, painfully true letter from my very best friend. Andrea is like a girl version of David Sedaris or Augusten Burroughs, mining perfect comedic moments from the very worst of life's offerings. You don't have to be miserable, lonely or a lesbian to completely relate to the hilarious journey that is Andrea's life." -- Jill Soloway author of Tiny Women In Shiny Pants and writer on Six Feet Under.
"Funny, sad, unblinkingly honest--I would give this one to any pregnant friend and a few who aren't."-Joyce Maynard author of At Home in the World, The Usual Rules and To Die For
"Andrea is the lesbian Annie Lamott. Her book makes me want not to donate sperm."-Taylor Negron, actor -- More Praise for Andrea Askowitz
"Hilarious and all too true. After my own miserable lesbian pregnancy, Andrea Askowitz's confessions cheered me up immeasurably."-Ariel Gore author of The Hip Mama Survival Guide
"Andrea Askowitz, is warm, funny and filthy"--Slate.com -- Praise for Andrea Askowitz
"This is one whiny, bitchy pregnant lady--and you can't help but love her. Askowitz is funny and fearless." -- Louise Sloan author of Knock Yourself Up: A Tell-All Guide to Becoming a Single Mom
"You don't have to be a miserable, lonely, pregnant lesbian to adore Andrea Askowitz's awfully funny story. Anyone who enjoys schadenfreude, laugh-out-loud asides, and frank depictions of biological horrors will love this wonderful book. You will read it dog-eared and quote the most outrageous parts at length to all your friends. An awfully funny story." -- Jennifer Traig author of Devil In the Details: Scenes from an Obsessive Girlhood
From the Back Cover
Andrea Askowitz has the best life in the world. She's pregnant and healthy. She has friends and family who love her. She has money and meaningful work. And all she can do is obsess about the one thing she doesn't have: Kate, her ex-girlfriend. My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy is a funny, whiny, all-too-real account of one girl's true adventure in maternity. From finding a great donor who turns out to be shooting blanks ("I was a lesbian with male fertility problems.") through all-day morning sickness and graduation into "fat-girl underwear," Andrea's life reads like an antidote to sugar-sweet pregnancy guides and memoirs. In week 8, her sense of smell becomes so strong that she can tell what deodorant people are wearing. In week 28, she plans a pity party, complete with black-only dress code and a violin player: "It isn't an attempt to make fun of myself, because that would be too joyous." Irreverent and whip-smart, My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy is potent therapy for ill-timed break-ups, leg cramps, constipation, and every other downside to a dream come true.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
CONCEPTION At 11 A.M. I rush past my office mates and out the door. I have a 12:30 appointment at the Kaiser Infertility Clinic. I say, "See you later, I'm going to get pregnant." First, I drive to the California Cryobank. I walk down a long, dark hallway to the pickup window and look around for men to try to get a glimpse of the kind of guy who donates here, but the donors seem to use a separate entrance. I consider the possibility of bumping into someone I know, but the hall is empty. There is no waiting room, just a glass window that slides open when I ring the bell. A woman in a lab coat charges my credit card $320 and hands over my baby's daddy--a vial half the size of my pinkie, encased in a freezing tank inside a three-foot-high box with arrows and the words "This Way Up." I tuck the sperm behind the passenger seat and head to the clinic. The day is bright and blue and mild. A fine day to get pregnant. I take Sunset, which is tree-lined for miles, and I'm thinking it's one of the prettiest streets in Los Angeles, until I get farther east and then Sunset becomes as ugly as any other strip-mall stretch of LA. The music this morning is my favorite, classic hits from the '70s and '80s. I haven't moved on. At 34, I'm still listening to ABBA and Fleetwood Mac. The windows are open, and I'm singing, "Oh Oh, dream weavah, I believe you can get me through the niiiihhiiight." I carry the sperm box inside, which is unwieldy but not heavy, and hand it over to the nurse for defrosting. This is my second attempt, so I know the routine. The first time, I brought my best friend Stephanie, a professional photographer who took pictures like she was the proud dad: me walking in with the loot, me in the waiting room eating a peach Danish, me on the table with my feet in the stirrups, and even some crotch shots of the sperm going in. I'm lucky: most people don't get good photos of conception. The last time, Kate wanted to come, but we agreed it would be too hard. We ate Thai food the night before, and she cried over the tom ka gai, our favorite soup--chicken with coconut milk, medium spicy. Damn her for not getting her shit together in time to be my co-mom. Kate is so pretty and gentle, and I dreamed of her holding our baby. And holding me. I waited six years for her to grow up. We broke up several months ago. A divorce, really. We weren't legally married, but we were family. We shared a health insurance policy. Another woman's in the clinic waiting room, apparently alone, but wearing a wedding band, and a man and a woman are sitting together. We smile and nod at each other. I wonder if we're all waiting for our sperm to defrost. Although I'm by myself this time, I don't feel lonely. I feel cool and confident, like I'm doing my part. The war in Iraq started a few weeks ago, and I have been feeling powerless. I want to be more effective in creating peace in the world, and this war seems beyond my control, no matter how many peace rallies I go to. But today, as I sit looking up at the Matisse print, the one of the big-hipped woman dancing with no feet, I think: Maybe this is my contribution. No pressure on the kid, but maybe the kid will be a peacemaker--a sort of modern day Jesus Christ, as this Jew understands Jesus--someone who can speak the language of those in power and at the same time befriend those who are disempowered. And if this doesn't resemble the Immaculate Conception, I don't know what does.
Most helpful customer reviews
13 of 14 people found the following review helpful.
Uh, no.
By Ashleigh
I understand that memoirs anymore are striving for the 'shock and awe', but this book takes it a little far. I suppose if you are interested in reading this novel and are A.) NOT pregnant or wishing to become pregnant or B.) NOT a lesbian, I get that it might be charming or funny, in a satirical way.
I didn't find Ms. Askowitz endearing in any way. She came across as whiny and petulant, and I spent the whole time wishing she'd just shut up and quit complaining. As a lesbian, it's not like she became pregnant on accident. I know that pregnancy isn't always blue skies and perfection, but do I really need to hear someone b*tch about it for an entire novel? I'm actually upset with myself for finishing the book, since it didn't end any better than it began.
The one thing I'll give her is that she does admit that she's a pain and her attitude was poor at times. Even with those admittances, I still found her memoir disheartening and ugly.
When I bought this book, I read all the reviews saying it's a cheeky, cute, funny memoir and thought to myself that it would be a good read for me, a lesbian hoping to conceive a child soon. I was completely and totally wrong. My partner and I were both horrified by this novel. If you're looking for a nice, funny memoir about a lesbian pregnancy, THIS IS NOT IT. The title is less tongue-in-cheek than you might think. I considered re-selling it through Amazon, but I'm not even willing to put this book back into circulation!
0 of 0 people found the following review helpful.
Pregnancy is Not for the Weak of Heart or Stomach!
By Alexandra
My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy is author, Andrea Askowitz's brutally honest memoir recounting the months she spent trying to get pregnant, actually pregnant, and as a new mother. As can be easily discerned from the title, Andrea did not enjoy being pregnant and she makes no effort to sugarcoat her experience. Askowitz is frank and extremely open in describing the messy and oftentimes unpleasant experiences involved with pregnancy and child birth.
What makes My Miserable, Lonely, Lesbian Pregnancy work as a memoir is the balance that Askowitz manages to maintain between candid description of her opinions and admission that those opinions might have been skewed by her own gloom. Askowitz pulls no punches in describing her bitter disappoint with her friends, her ex-girlfriend, and her family; however, her harsh judgments are tempered by her acknowledgment that her estimations were not always fair and that she was a big pain in the neck. Askowitz's ability to call herself out on her own issues makes her endearing and likeable.
Askowitz's ability to be so unguarded in her writing oftentimes results in uproarious hilarity. Her recounting of her arguments and passive-aggressive altercations with her therapist will leave readers in stitches. She is candid, annoying, funny, loving, infuriating, and a whole host of other contradicting descriptions that make a person complicated and interesting.
Overall, this is a thoroughly enjoyable memoir that lifts the curtain on the rosy, glowing pregnancy façade that is usually presented to reveal the difficult, hard, and ugly side of pregnancy.
I do, however, feel a responsibility to future readers to mention that this might not be the book for those who consider themselves exceptionally squeamish, prudish, or easily offended.
6 of 7 people found the following review helpful.
As Cranky, Foul-Mouthed, and Funny As She Wants To Be
By Rachel Kramer Bussel
This book may have a rubber ducky on it and a baby born at the end of it, but beyond that, it has little to do with most parenting/pregnancy books, and the fact that Askowitz is single or a lesbian aren't, ultimately, what sets it apart so much as her outlook. She's supposed to be ecstatic; she split up with her long-term girlfriend and went through the rounds of picking out a sperm donor specifically so she could become the mom she's longed to be.
But she's not happy. At all. She misses her girlfriend fiercely, and is still dealing with the harrowing death of her lifelong friend. Both of these events, the breakup and the loss of her friend, form the backdrop to the growing life inside of her. Yet they don't stop Askowitz from being scathingly hilarious, sparing no one, including her siblings, parents, extended family, friends, exes, coworkers and Lesbian Camping. When talking about how her ex-girlfriend Kate gained 40 pounds while they were together, Askowitz doesn't hide her revulsion, and upon being asked "Would you want my body?" Askowitz replies "No, but it's perfect on you." Askowitz then wonders, "Why couldn't I have said nothing, or changed the subject?" It might be tough to take if your its recipient, but as a reader, Askowitz has taken her best moments and turned them into something that readers can laugh at.
Oh, and she also rightly calls Sex and the City on a particularly self-loathing moment, which Amazon probably won't let me repost (it has the "p" word in it). Prepare for a lot of profanity. Prepare to sometimes get sick of Askowitz's whining. Prepare to laugh uproariously at very simple but moments, like her reflections on one of her potential sperm donors: "5599's brother was diagnosed and treated for obsessive-compulsive disorder at 21. He wrote: `My brother's health is excellent. He's taking medication, and he's fine now.' His maternal grandmother drank herself to death at 45. He'd probably say she's fine now. He's out."
Sometimes it's hard to wonder just how those in her life put up with Askowitz's demands during her pregnancy, yet this is what makes powerful memoir: honesty. She doesn't sugarcoat her grouchiness or the intensity of labor. And perhaps the most vital story here isn't about Askowitz becoming a mother, but searching for acceptance from her family after feeling like the family freak after she came out as a teenager. The end is the tearjerker the rest of the book hasn't quite prepared you for, yet she still ends on a note so befitting this book, I'll just have to quote it: "Excuse me, Dana, that's my tit."
Askowtiz may have been miserable and lonely, but this book is full of humor, not the kind going for cheap easy laughs, but a very strongly Jewish, feminist, often righteous, lesbian brand of humor Askowitz was clearly born with. It's uncensored, full of dyke drama, told in sometimes brief diary snippets, with other asides into her childhood in Los Angeles. This memoir has roots, and will make you laugh as well as cry as it goes from childhood to death to birth and circles through the three. I'm glad Askowitz didn't try to soften any of her edges, because her sadness, flashes of anger, moments of self-pity and doubt coincide perfectly with her humor and faith in the future and her child. And you so don't need to be a lesbian or pregnant to enjoy it (though I'd imagine being either will make it an even better read).
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