In my late 30's, I conquered Fear. I picked up the tools for dealing with self-sabotaging fears -- the fears that existed in my head, in my inner world, but not in the real world. I faced my own mortality, I sat with the dying, and I went out and did the things I feared doing because I was tired of being afraid all the time. I learned that everyone is afraid, and that the difference between myself and people who did great things was that the people who did great things felt afraid and acted anyway. I learned that if I wanted to fulfill my own capacity for greatness, I had to develop tools for moving past the paralysis of fear, and use them, every day, until it became second nature to acknowledge my fears and act anyway.
I got off the fear bandwagon, and it was very freeing.
Until last week.
Last week, when my newborn was jaundiced and losing weight and not pooping -- I felt real fear for the first time in years. It was a new kind of fear, and it hit me in the gut like a suckerpunch: What if something happens to my Little Man?
That thought brought anguish greater than I'd felt at the loss of my sister -- the most keenly felt loss of all the deaths of loved-ones yet -- and sent my mind reeling down the What If path. As soon as I realized where I was going though, I stopped that self-indulgent sabotage. Down that path lies Smothering Motherhood and an Anxious Fearful Child.
Somewhere there is a balance, and I'll find it. In the meantime, I accept that I'll probably swing between extremes for a bit. I'm sure life will present me many opportunities to confront my mother-fears. I'm also certain I'm up to the challenge of raising a happy, well-adjusted child -- all my fears aside.
I'm also certain that the physical, gut-wrenching response to threats to my son's health and well-being will be with me for the rest of my life. I've just got to learn to accept it as one of the tithes of motherhood and hope it gets easier to think critically and act appropriately despite the fear and the pain.
It does get easier, right?
Showing posts with label fears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fears. Show all posts
Monday, June 11, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Final letter to my unborn son
Dear baby boy,
On Thursday May 24th we start week 40, you and me. If you don't show signs of making your way out into the world before then, I'll be at the hospital first thing Friday morning to start the process of inducing labor. Even though this pregnancy has gone remarkably well, my age and the fact that you are my first child puts us in the "high risk" category, which means the obstetrician doesn't want us going past 40 weeks.
We're mostly ready for you, dragon-baby. Your father had hoped you'd arrive Sunday May 20th for the solar eclipse, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. This gives me a few more days to finish up some things I am hoping to complete before you arrive.
There is a fair amount of anxiety floating around in the house these days. Your father and I are feeling nervous and afraid. We've completed the environmental preparations for your arrival -- clothes, diapers, a place to sleep, breastfeeding supplies, etc -- but mentally and emotionally we've both admitted we're afraid we're not ready for parenthood. We're set in our ways, I admit it, and we like the way our life together has been running the past few years. We're content together, our relationship works very well, and we have a lot of freedom. And that is changing soon -- as soon as you arrive.
But even more than the fear of lifestyle changes and the fears of possible parental inadequacy, there is a fear your father and I haven't talked about. The fear that something might happen during childbirth, to you, or to me.
So in some way the purposes of writing this letter is to address the possibility, however slim, that I might not be around to raise you. There. I said it. After my brush with my own mortality and the deaths of three other family members the past few years, I'm pretty ok with death and dying. Or at least I thought I was. But deciding to bring you into this world, choosing to become a parent -- well, that has changed quite a lot. It's not all about me anymore, whether I live or die. I've made the commitment to be a mother and that means my life isn't my own anymore. You are wholly dependent on me, both while in the womb and for months (years) after you're born. And I'm afraid, more than anything else, that I won't be there for you.
Your father had a really difficult time of it when I was so sick with septicemia -- witnessing the fact that I'd almost died scared him, affected him deeply. It changed our relationship significantly, brought things into sharp focus. It isn't until you face the prospect of losing someone that you realize how important they are to you. In the months that followed we chose each other, chose to take what lies between us more seriously, and that is a powerful thing. Powerful enough to create the possibility of you. I worry about how your father will handle things if something happens to me as a result of childbirth. He's a good man, a deeply sensitive and caring man, and I worry about how devastated he'd be if I died. And how that devastation would impact his ability to care for you.
The odds are in our favor, of course, and it's unlikely this fear of mine will come to pass, but over the years I've learned to face my fears head-on rather than run and hide from them. My own mother is gone and all I have are memories, and I know that in the event that I die while you are still an infant, you won't even have memories of me.
Oh, there will be some photos, and some recordings of my voice, and a fairly significant body of writing both personal and professional -- so I think when you're older you'll have an idea of the person I am as of today. And hopefully the mother I would have been...
A week from now I hope I'll feel silly for writing this. I'll probably chalk it off to pregnancy hormones and a healthy dose of fear. Still, it's all worth saying, and better said than not.
If I didn't write this now, you wouldn't know about the hours I've spent rubbing you through my belly, or the time I've spent telling you silly little anecdotes about my sisters and my grandparents. You wouldn't know how much I've come to love you, love the feel of you moving inside me -- you -- the embodiment of the love and possibility that exists between your father and me. You might not know that even though I didn't plan on having children, didn't really think I wanted children -- that I want you, and that I'm looking forward to building a new life around you with your father.
I would want you to know that your father makes me laugh like no one else can, and that he and I have had a deep emotional bond for 8 years now -- a good, solid basis to build a relationship as parents on. That I have freckles on my nose and a mole on my upper arm and a widow's peak inherited from my father's mother. If you like your nose it means you got your father's nose, or my mother's nose -- because I've got my dad's nose and I don't like it much :) I want you to know that if your taste in music is different from your father's -- if you end up liking jazz and blues and tribal beats -- it's because I listened to it when you were in the womb. If you're good at math and piano you get it from your father, and if you can't pick up playing musical instruments no matter how many lessons you've had, you get that from me. (Sorry!)
I'd want you to know that I don't have a favorite color. When I was a little girl and the other kids were picking favorite colors it occurred to me to feel sorry for the colors that weren't chosen, so I never picked one. My color preferences are mostly dictated by my mood. I don't have a favorite flower or food, either. I tend to live in the moment, and appreciate whatever is here in this moment -- something that having preferences or favorites can interfere with. Your father and I both learned to read very young, so you probably will, too. My favorite books from childhood are the stories of Winnie-the-Pooh, and The Warm Fuzzy Story, and the stories of Pippie Longstocking, Sinbad the Sailor, and Puff the Magic Dragon. Your father will probably start you on Tolkein. I hope you like his work, but if you don't, your father will blame me :) If the Disney movies terrified you when you were little, that's on me as well. I took things very literally when I was a child. If you don't like TV or movies much -- if you'd rather read or otherwise feed your brain you get that from me -- but be a good boy and try to sit through your father's shows with him. He will appreciate the effort.
Most of all, I'm a loving, affectionate person. I love hugging, snuggling, and massaging the people I care for. If something goes wrong, I just want you to know that I am so looking forward to splashing love and joy and affection all over you, and it makes me very sad to think we might miss out on that.
There are other things I'd want you to know, things I've learned over the years. For example: You don't get what you don't ask for. * Life can be tough at times, and we're all in this together, so don't forget to ask for help when you need it. * Be clever if you can, but never forget to be kind. * Don't let anyone tell you that there is something wrong with you--you're perfect and complete just the way you are, and everything you need to be happy is already inside you. * Love isn't something to be hoarded. Instead, love like you're trying to give all the love inside you away by the end of the day--you'll be full again in the morning, I promise, and you and the people in your life will be better off for it. * People are more alike than they are different, and if you remember that, you'll always have common ground. * Your only limitations are the ones you believe in. * It's ok to be afraid--everyone is afraid--but most fears are creations of your own mind, so don't let them get in your way. * The only regrets people tend to have in life are the things they didn't do. * It's ok to make mistakes. Mistakes are often acts of creation. Just remember to own up to them and make amends when you can. * Your thoughts and attitudes are creative and causal forces in your life--as you think, so you are and so your life is. * Own your present and your future: Be the change you want to see in the world and it will come to pass. * Be playful. * Be grateful. * And most of all, Be Happy. *
Love,
Mom
On Thursday May 24th we start week 40, you and me. If you don't show signs of making your way out into the world before then, I'll be at the hospital first thing Friday morning to start the process of inducing labor. Even though this pregnancy has gone remarkably well, my age and the fact that you are my first child puts us in the "high risk" category, which means the obstetrician doesn't want us going past 40 weeks.
We're mostly ready for you, dragon-baby. Your father had hoped you'd arrive Sunday May 20th for the solar eclipse, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. This gives me a few more days to finish up some things I am hoping to complete before you arrive.
There is a fair amount of anxiety floating around in the house these days. Your father and I are feeling nervous and afraid. We've completed the environmental preparations for your arrival -- clothes, diapers, a place to sleep, breastfeeding supplies, etc -- but mentally and emotionally we've both admitted we're afraid we're not ready for parenthood. We're set in our ways, I admit it, and we like the way our life together has been running the past few years. We're content together, our relationship works very well, and we have a lot of freedom. And that is changing soon -- as soon as you arrive.
But even more than the fear of lifestyle changes and the fears of possible parental inadequacy, there is a fear your father and I haven't talked about. The fear that something might happen during childbirth, to you, or to me.
So in some way the purposes of writing this letter is to address the possibility, however slim, that I might not be around to raise you. There. I said it. After my brush with my own mortality and the deaths of three other family members the past few years, I'm pretty ok with death and dying. Or at least I thought I was. But deciding to bring you into this world, choosing to become a parent -- well, that has changed quite a lot. It's not all about me anymore, whether I live or die. I've made the commitment to be a mother and that means my life isn't my own anymore. You are wholly dependent on me, both while in the womb and for months (years) after you're born. And I'm afraid, more than anything else, that I won't be there for you.
Your father had a really difficult time of it when I was so sick with septicemia -- witnessing the fact that I'd almost died scared him, affected him deeply. It changed our relationship significantly, brought things into sharp focus. It isn't until you face the prospect of losing someone that you realize how important they are to you. In the months that followed we chose each other, chose to take what lies between us more seriously, and that is a powerful thing. Powerful enough to create the possibility of you. I worry about how your father will handle things if something happens to me as a result of childbirth. He's a good man, a deeply sensitive and caring man, and I worry about how devastated he'd be if I died. And how that devastation would impact his ability to care for you.
The odds are in our favor, of course, and it's unlikely this fear of mine will come to pass, but over the years I've learned to face my fears head-on rather than run and hide from them. My own mother is gone and all I have are memories, and I know that in the event that I die while you are still an infant, you won't even have memories of me.
Oh, there will be some photos, and some recordings of my voice, and a fairly significant body of writing both personal and professional -- so I think when you're older you'll have an idea of the person I am as of today. And hopefully the mother I would have been...
A week from now I hope I'll feel silly for writing this. I'll probably chalk it off to pregnancy hormones and a healthy dose of fear. Still, it's all worth saying, and better said than not.
If I didn't write this now, you wouldn't know about the hours I've spent rubbing you through my belly, or the time I've spent telling you silly little anecdotes about my sisters and my grandparents. You wouldn't know how much I've come to love you, love the feel of you moving inside me -- you -- the embodiment of the love and possibility that exists between your father and me. You might not know that even though I didn't plan on having children, didn't really think I wanted children -- that I want you, and that I'm looking forward to building a new life around you with your father.
I would want you to know that your father makes me laugh like no one else can, and that he and I have had a deep emotional bond for 8 years now -- a good, solid basis to build a relationship as parents on. That I have freckles on my nose and a mole on my upper arm and a widow's peak inherited from my father's mother. If you like your nose it means you got your father's nose, or my mother's nose -- because I've got my dad's nose and I don't like it much :) I want you to know that if your taste in music is different from your father's -- if you end up liking jazz and blues and tribal beats -- it's because I listened to it when you were in the womb. If you're good at math and piano you get it from your father, and if you can't pick up playing musical instruments no matter how many lessons you've had, you get that from me. (Sorry!)
I'd want you to know that I don't have a favorite color. When I was a little girl and the other kids were picking favorite colors it occurred to me to feel sorry for the colors that weren't chosen, so I never picked one. My color preferences are mostly dictated by my mood. I don't have a favorite flower or food, either. I tend to live in the moment, and appreciate whatever is here in this moment -- something that having preferences or favorites can interfere with. Your father and I both learned to read very young, so you probably will, too. My favorite books from childhood are the stories of Winnie-the-Pooh, and The Warm Fuzzy Story, and the stories of Pippie Longstocking, Sinbad the Sailor, and Puff the Magic Dragon. Your father will probably start you on Tolkein. I hope you like his work, but if you don't, your father will blame me :) If the Disney movies terrified you when you were little, that's on me as well. I took things very literally when I was a child. If you don't like TV or movies much -- if you'd rather read or otherwise feed your brain you get that from me -- but be a good boy and try to sit through your father's shows with him. He will appreciate the effort.
Most of all, I'm a loving, affectionate person. I love hugging, snuggling, and massaging the people I care for. If something goes wrong, I just want you to know that I am so looking forward to splashing love and joy and affection all over you, and it makes me very sad to think we might miss out on that.
There are other things I'd want you to know, things I've learned over the years. For example: You don't get what you don't ask for. * Life can be tough at times, and we're all in this together, so don't forget to ask for help when you need it. * Be clever if you can, but never forget to be kind. * Don't let anyone tell you that there is something wrong with you--you're perfect and complete just the way you are, and everything you need to be happy is already inside you. * Love isn't something to be hoarded. Instead, love like you're trying to give all the love inside you away by the end of the day--you'll be full again in the morning, I promise, and you and the people in your life will be better off for it. * People are more alike than they are different, and if you remember that, you'll always have common ground. * Your only limitations are the ones you believe in. * It's ok to be afraid--everyone is afraid--but most fears are creations of your own mind, so don't let them get in your way. * The only regrets people tend to have in life are the things they didn't do. * It's ok to make mistakes. Mistakes are often acts of creation. Just remember to own up to them and make amends when you can. * Your thoughts and attitudes are creative and causal forces in your life--as you think, so you are and so your life is. * Own your present and your future: Be the change you want to see in the world and it will come to pass. * Be playful. * Be grateful. * And most of all, Be Happy. *
Love,
Mom
Monday, April 30, 2012
The soon-to-be-new-mom freak-out hour
We're moving the induce-by date up to the weekend of May 19-20. The weekend is more convenient for everyone, and if the baby is delivered Sunday afternoon between 4-7:30 there will be a ring-of-fire (annular) solar eclipse occuring over the Bay Area. Pretty cool.
I had an appointment with my primary care physician this morning per my obstetrician's recommendation. I'm experiencing some mild angina-like symptoms along with the occasional flutter (arrythmia) and given that I've had hypertension since Hell Year 2008 and pregnancy adds extra work for the heart, it's probably a good idea to get a cardiac check-up prior to the delivery marathon coming up in 20 days or so. The EKG showed mild sinus tachycardia -- not unusual during pregnancy, so that's good. Next time my heart races and my BP drops I'm supposed to drink water as my doc suspects my blood volume is getting low.
The fact that we're counting down in days now, rather than weeks, has me on the edge of freaking out. This pregnancy has happened very fast seeing as I didn't know I was pregnant until I was nearly 16 weeks. So that is part of it. It also seems like there is so much left to do, and I'm really impatient with my physical limitations right now. I'm bringing someone in on Thursday to clean the bathrooms and the floors, especially since we're having workmen in this week changing out the HVAC system. New furnace, new ducts, new A/C this week.
Fortunately, I've had some friends step up to help me figure out how to organize the baby gear and determine what is still needed. I'm normally a very organized person but all the tiny little baby clothes look alike to me. Now they've been sorted into bins for newborn, 0-3, 3-6, 6-9, 9-12 and 1 year +. After a lot of hunting around, I'm pretty sure I'll be heading to Ikea this week to pick up some Trofast frames and bins for organizing all the baby stuff. Once he's off on his own in his own room, the bins will be great for toy storage and the like, but for now, I'll use them for storing diapers, ointments, clothes, even as a changing table. So much STUFF.
Everything is going to change very soon. I've lived a mostly tetherless, responsibility-free life for the past 25 years, and now, at a time when my friends are becoming grandparents, I'm having my first and only child. All my adult life I avoided even having pets because I wanted to be free to go places and do things without having to worry about who was watering, walking, feeding, and paying attention to pets. I avoided getting married because it didn't make sense if I wasn't having kids. I even avoided accumulating much in the way of things (except books) because it seems to me that people become owned by their things and tied to a place because things need space.
And now there is a baby coming, and I can't return him to the store if he's too much bother ;) I can't just make a quick 10 minute trip to the grocery store anymore. Every move is going to have to be planned, every moment of the baby's time accounted for so that he's not unaccompanied. I've never minded being tied-up, but the knowledge that I'll soon be tied-down is freaking me out. 5 years ago someone I was dating told me I was commitment-phobic, and at the time, I thought that was rubbish. But CW was right about a lot of things, and it looks like he was right about that, too. I should send him an email and let him know. Men do love it when women tell them they're right :)
I had an appointment with my primary care physician this morning per my obstetrician's recommendation. I'm experiencing some mild angina-like symptoms along with the occasional flutter (arrythmia) and given that I've had hypertension since Hell Year 2008 and pregnancy adds extra work for the heart, it's probably a good idea to get a cardiac check-up prior to the delivery marathon coming up in 20 days or so. The EKG showed mild sinus tachycardia -- not unusual during pregnancy, so that's good. Next time my heart races and my BP drops I'm supposed to drink water as my doc suspects my blood volume is getting low.
The fact that we're counting down in days now, rather than weeks, has me on the edge of freaking out. This pregnancy has happened very fast seeing as I didn't know I was pregnant until I was nearly 16 weeks. So that is part of it. It also seems like there is so much left to do, and I'm really impatient with my physical limitations right now. I'm bringing someone in on Thursday to clean the bathrooms and the floors, especially since we're having workmen in this week changing out the HVAC system. New furnace, new ducts, new A/C this week.
Fortunately, I've had some friends step up to help me figure out how to organize the baby gear and determine what is still needed. I'm normally a very organized person but all the tiny little baby clothes look alike to me. Now they've been sorted into bins for newborn, 0-3, 3-6, 6-9, 9-12 and 1 year +. After a lot of hunting around, I'm pretty sure I'll be heading to Ikea this week to pick up some Trofast frames and bins for organizing all the baby stuff. Once he's off on his own in his own room, the bins will be great for toy storage and the like, but for now, I'll use them for storing diapers, ointments, clothes, even as a changing table. So much STUFF.
Everything is going to change very soon. I've lived a mostly tetherless, responsibility-free life for the past 25 years, and now, at a time when my friends are becoming grandparents, I'm having my first and only child. All my adult life I avoided even having pets because I wanted to be free to go places and do things without having to worry about who was watering, walking, feeding, and paying attention to pets. I avoided getting married because it didn't make sense if I wasn't having kids. I even avoided accumulating much in the way of things (except books) because it seems to me that people become owned by their things and tied to a place because things need space.
And now there is a baby coming, and I can't return him to the store if he's too much bother ;) I can't just make a quick 10 minute trip to the grocery store anymore. Every move is going to have to be planned, every moment of the baby's time accounted for so that he's not unaccompanied. I've never minded being tied-up, but the knowledge that I'll soon be tied-down is freaking me out. 5 years ago someone I was dating told me I was commitment-phobic, and at the time, I thought that was rubbish. But CW was right about a lot of things, and it looks like he was right about that, too. I should send him an email and let him know. Men do love it when women tell them they're right :)
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Childbirth. Must I?
I had a high pain tolerance once. I could function well enough at level 10 that one of the paramedics didn't believe me when I told him it was that high. I offered to scream and projectile vomit for him (which I was trying very hard not to do) at which point his partner guided me onto the gurney. In the emergency room it took 3 doses of morphine to bring my pain-level down to a point that my body would lie still for an MRI of my internal organs. That's pain.
Nearly four years ago I was admitted to the hospital with a wound that had gone septic and beyond, to septic shock. I apparently came within hours of dying, had a couple of surgeries, weeks of hospital and home health care, and ended up with an 8-inch long & 4-inch deep open wound that had to heal up from the inside out. Endless bags of antibiotics until my veins were exhausted and I cried through IV pumps rather than admit it was time to change the IV site and invite even more agony (lesson learned: demand a PICC line if I'm going to be on an IV for more than a few days).
Talk about pain. The memory of the pain is still with me: it brings tears to my eyes. It cut through my dilaudid-on-demand; it made my whole body tremble and jerk, even in my sleep. I spent 10 days checked-out from my body, burrowed deep into some remote place in my mind. Those 10 days are lost to me, just pained haziness punctuated with moments of extreme agony. I vowed that I never, ever wanted to experience that kind of pain again.
Childbirth. On a scale of 1-10 it's just over 11, I've read. I am assured that the memory of labor pain fades with time. And of course, it does. It must. It's the thought of that in-the-moment gut-wrenching pain that freaks me out. I just don't know if I can muster the courage to face that kind of pain again, even with the help of an epidural. Sometimes I think about scheduling a C-section just to avoid it. And I probably would if I didn't want to have to deal with recovering from major surgery. I also know it is better for the baby to experience vaginal birth. Its like a full body massage--it gets the blood and lymph flowing, stimulates the muscles, etc. And that matters to me more than the memory of pain.
Childbirth. Never intended to go through it, feel completely unprepared to handle it. But it's how human life begins, so... meh. I'll keep trying to pysch myself into it. Perhaps the Labor & Delivery Tour at the hospital next weekend will help take the edge off some of the anxiety.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Physical discomfort and cognitive dissonance
Discomfort is the umbra of my existence: leaning forward, walking, sleeping, digesting a meal, even my thought processes -- all are impacted by the entity occupying my womb.
I admit there are times when I feel occupied rather than, oh, I don't know, pregnant. My body is no longer wholly my own. Sometimes that bothers me on a deep, barely conscious level. I think it has something to do with the fact that gestation and motherhood just aren't part of my identity. They never had been. Yes, I am a nurturer, but I am not a mommy. The whole mommy-identity is foreign to me, and still uncomfortable. I know that when the time comes I'll step into that role, and that in being a mother, I will become one. I know this, and I'm not worried. I'm just uncomfortably aware that a disconnect is still there, and I'm doing my best to be okay with that.
The part of me that never wanted to be a parent wants validation, I think. This surprising miracle pregnancy has changed everything, and that part of me doesn't welcome the changes. There. I've admitted it.
I never wanted to be a mother and I'm not 100% certain I want to be a mother, but I'm carrying this baby and a larger part of me wants to experience this whole new realm that I never thought would be open to me. I've been rapidly playing catch-up, emotionally, mentally. Most females are indoctrinated to see baby-making as part of their identity, a prerequisite for being a "real" woman. They dress baby-dolls and pick out names and fantasize about weddings and nurseries. They evaluate the males in their lives as prospective providers and fathers. They ask themselves, "Would I want to make a baby with this man?" Many, if not most, women do this, I know. But not me.
I love being an auntie. I love solitude and serenity. I love the solitary pursuits of writing and voice-over recording. I love sleeping in and dining out and haring off on crazy adventures. I like riding motorcycles a little too fast and making love a little too slow. Someday... Someday I hope I'll say "I love being a mom." Even though I won't love waking up all hours of the night, even though I won't enjoy cleaning up vomit and poo. I hope I'll be saying that I love being a mom even after I've had to cancel much-anticipated plans because the baby is sick or the sitter fell through for the nth time. I think I will.
I'm an all-in kind of person, and when M and I decided to proceed with this pregnancy, I committed myself to doing whatever it takes, to being whoever I need to be, in order to fulfill the imperatives of our child-to-be. Including being a mother.
I am grateful that the baby's father and I have such a strong connection. M and I have been each other's closest friends for years. Becoming lovers seemed natural, if accidental. Love flows this way, sometimes. I'm hoping we'll succeed at being parents together, succeed in building a family life together. He, at least, has always wanted a family, and in this, I'll follow his lead.
Soon. The baby is coming soon. I'm looking forward to the day he arrives. Even if he isn't being delivered by stork.
I admit there are times when I feel occupied rather than, oh, I don't know, pregnant. My body is no longer wholly my own. Sometimes that bothers me on a deep, barely conscious level. I think it has something to do with the fact that gestation and motherhood just aren't part of my identity. They never had been. Yes, I am a nurturer, but I am not a mommy. The whole mommy-identity is foreign to me, and still uncomfortable. I know that when the time comes I'll step into that role, and that in being a mother, I will become one. I know this, and I'm not worried. I'm just uncomfortably aware that a disconnect is still there, and I'm doing my best to be okay with that.
The part of me that never wanted to be a parent wants validation, I think. This surprising miracle pregnancy has changed everything, and that part of me doesn't welcome the changes. There. I've admitted it.
I never wanted to be a mother and I'm not 100% certain I want to be a mother, but I'm carrying this baby and a larger part of me wants to experience this whole new realm that I never thought would be open to me. I've been rapidly playing catch-up, emotionally, mentally. Most females are indoctrinated to see baby-making as part of their identity, a prerequisite for being a "real" woman. They dress baby-dolls and pick out names and fantasize about weddings and nurseries. They evaluate the males in their lives as prospective providers and fathers. They ask themselves, "Would I want to make a baby with this man?" Many, if not most, women do this, I know. But not me.
I love being an auntie. I love solitude and serenity. I love the solitary pursuits of writing and voice-over recording. I love sleeping in and dining out and haring off on crazy adventures. I like riding motorcycles a little too fast and making love a little too slow. Someday... Someday I hope I'll say "I love being a mom." Even though I won't love waking up all hours of the night, even though I won't enjoy cleaning up vomit and poo. I hope I'll be saying that I love being a mom even after I've had to cancel much-anticipated plans because the baby is sick or the sitter fell through for the nth time. I think I will.
I'm an all-in kind of person, and when M and I decided to proceed with this pregnancy, I committed myself to doing whatever it takes, to being whoever I need to be, in order to fulfill the imperatives of our child-to-be. Including being a mother.
I am grateful that the baby's father and I have such a strong connection. M and I have been each other's closest friends for years. Becoming lovers seemed natural, if accidental. Love flows this way, sometimes. I'm hoping we'll succeed at being parents together, succeed in building a family life together. He, at least, has always wanted a family, and in this, I'll follow his lead.
Soon. The baby is coming soon. I'm looking forward to the day he arrives. Even if he isn't being delivered by stork.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Letter #2 to my unborn son
Darling boy,
We are in week 26 of our journey together, the start of the third trimester, and you will arrive in 12 to 13 weeks. For silly reasons of my own I am hoping that you arrive after May 20th, though that may change as you grow larger and the rigors of pregnancy take their toll.
In the past three weeks my body has changed significantly. I definitely have a belly now, and I notice it most when I'm out for a walk. I have to ask your father to slow down now, because when I try to keep up with him I get a cramp :) As each day goes by I am able to exert myself less without cramps or aches. I notice it most when I'm working in the garden. Even with tools I'm having to take things easy, and I can't assume that I'll be able to do as much from one day to the next. I'm staying as active as I can without risking our safety.
Most days it feels like Spring, which is good, because I'm not feeling as chilled as I was just a few weeks ago. The primroses I planted last year are re-blooming, and the red cyclamen are still growing strong. They are the same color of red as the front door. I've noticed that the wisteria has dozens of flower buds that seem to be swelling a little bit every day. The jasmine are really growing, and the scented rose is leafing out. The plum tree in back is just starting to show it's white blossoms, and in a few weeks, so will the peach tree. The lemon verbena is putting out some leaves now. I'd feared it died in last month's unusual chill. I love the lemon smell and once it is strong again, I'll transplant it into the same flower bed as the rosemary and lavender bushes. I've also got a bird-of-paradise plant to put in between the bottle-brush tree and the mandarin tree at the edge of the patio. In a few years it's orange and red and blue flowers will tie-in the colors of the two trees, and fill the space between them with beautiful foliage. I hope you'll inherit my love of plants, and help me in the garden as you grow.
Hopefully by the end of February the work at the front of the house will be done. We're putting in irrigation and replacing the 60 year old lawn. When that work is done I'll be planting hostas, ferns and astilbe in the flowerbed under the living room windows, and the weeping cherry blossom trees will be planted at the yard's edge, near the sidewalk. In late March your grandfather on your father's side will be coming to stay for a bit, and we'll work on the side yard together. The gravel that was put in by the previous owners is black with sharp edges--pretty enough, but it's not safe for you--and we'll replace it with pavers, thus extending the patio area into a space that will be cool and shady on warm summer afternoons.
Sleeping is becoming more of a challenge, which isn't unexpected. It's a struggle to sleep on my side. I'm constantly waking up on my back with tingly nerve feelings in my legs. I am grateful for the tempurpedic bed, because otherwise I'd be sore and sleepless most of the time.
I'm trying not to obsess too much about the world you're being born into, and I'm trying not to let the sadness, anger, and despair I sometimes feel stick around for too long. I know that the biochemical soup you're swimming in can be affected by my stress, and thus affects you.
The world is in a sorry state, though. Carbon dioxide emissions have jumped tremendously, beyond the worst-case scenarios of many scientists. The oceans are acidifying because of carbon dioxide build-up, and the glaciers and polar ice are melting far more rapidly than predicted. When the rest of the world appears to be in agreement that we all need to limit CO2 emissions and wean off oil, the US, dominated as it is by oil-company-interests and lobbyists, seems determined to believe that we're the smart ones and the rest of the world has been suckered by a hoax (roll eyes). Here in the States we've picked up the pace of natural gas extraction using techniques called "fracking", techniques that pump millions of gallons of water and chemicals into the ground to liberate the gas. The problem is, it's polluting ground-water, and drinking water is already in short supply world-wide. How terribly short-sighted of us.
Southern Europe is in a financial crises, and seeing as Italy accounts for nearly 20% of the GDP for the EU, it cannot be allowed to fail. However, the corrupt politicians and even more corrupt mafia are making people extremely reluctant to co-operate with austerity measures. Greece is on fire, literally. The people of Greece are protesting the way the world banks and the European Union are handling that nation's debt crisis -- a problem created with the help of Goldman Sachs, who helped Greece's politicians conceal it's debts so it could get into the EU in the first place.
I'm not sure what the Internet is going to look like for you when you're old enough to use it. Powerful lobbies are at work to make it easier to monetize media traffic and invade people's privacy in the name of copyright and IP protection. Between that and the increasing amount of money that corporations are pouring into PACs which influence the political landscape, I half-fear that Neal Stephenson's novel Snow Crash will be far more prophetic than any of us will like. Will you come into adulthood living in a corporate enclave in a corporate town policed by corporate security in an America in which the line between the haves and have-nots is sharply delineated? Or will you grow up in Canada, your father's homeland, because we had to flee the insanity here in the US? I don't know, but more and more it is looking like it may be a necessary option.
Everywhere in the world there is ideological oppression of one sort or another. Right now in the US women's rights are being targeted by politicians on the Right, hoping somehow to invigorate their conservative Christian base to get out and vote in November. The Republicans are having their primaries and caucuses right now, and it looks like less than 5% of eligible voters are actually showing up at the polls. I think all the negative super-PAC ads and attacks are alienating all voters, regardless of party. And I'm not sure this is accidental. It is in corporate interests to keep voter participation to a minimum. It is easier to control for a smaller electorate than a large, active one. It costs them less money to buy votes and politicians that way, and they've a much better chance of making sure things go their way.
Currently we're embroiled in a health care debate over whether or not employers should be required to provide health insurance that covers prescription contraceptives. The argument is it violates the freedom of religion in this country. The irony is that the Founding Fathers weren't concerned with preserving religious freedom from government interference. They were concerned about keeping religion OUT of government. Most of them were Deists, and most of them were appalled by the control that the various religious sects exerted over their congregations, cities, counties, and even states. The Christians of a couple of hundred years ago were not shy about running people out of town if they weren't of the same denomination, and weren't shy about trying to expand theocracy, which the Founding Fathers considered antithetical to their Enlightenment-Period beliefs and values. But most Americans are woefully ignorant of what happened yesterday, never mind what happened 200 or 300 years ago. Most are sheeple who are willing to believe what someone else spoon-feeds them, as long as it is dressed up to suit their ideological bent. It's sad, and discouraging, and frankly, disgusting.
But for all that, I am hopeful. I'm looking for ways to make the world a better place for you. I'm working on developing community in our neighborhood. I'm planting fruits and vegetables on our property and helping in Rachel's community garden. I'm looking at ways to develop and expand the Green Economy. I envision a world in which people live in harmony with the planet. A world in which every person lives a sustainable lifestyle and every company does business in a sustainable way. I believe it is possible for humanity to leap toward a new level of consciousness that unites, rather than divides us. If I didn't think it was possible to turn the tide of the world toward such things, I could not bring you into it. I hope when the time comes that you're self-aware and world-aware that you won't hate the older generations for what we've done, and what we've failed to do. I hope, I really hope, to make this a better world for you.
Love,
Mom
We are in week 26 of our journey together, the start of the third trimester, and you will arrive in 12 to 13 weeks. For silly reasons of my own I am hoping that you arrive after May 20th, though that may change as you grow larger and the rigors of pregnancy take their toll.
In the past three weeks my body has changed significantly. I definitely have a belly now, and I notice it most when I'm out for a walk. I have to ask your father to slow down now, because when I try to keep up with him I get a cramp :) As each day goes by I am able to exert myself less without cramps or aches. I notice it most when I'm working in the garden. Even with tools I'm having to take things easy, and I can't assume that I'll be able to do as much from one day to the next. I'm staying as active as I can without risking our safety.
Most days it feels like Spring, which is good, because I'm not feeling as chilled as I was just a few weeks ago. The primroses I planted last year are re-blooming, and the red cyclamen are still growing strong. They are the same color of red as the front door. I've noticed that the wisteria has dozens of flower buds that seem to be swelling a little bit every day. The jasmine are really growing, and the scented rose is leafing out. The plum tree in back is just starting to show it's white blossoms, and in a few weeks, so will the peach tree. The lemon verbena is putting out some leaves now. I'd feared it died in last month's unusual chill. I love the lemon smell and once it is strong again, I'll transplant it into the same flower bed as the rosemary and lavender bushes. I've also got a bird-of-paradise plant to put in between the bottle-brush tree and the mandarin tree at the edge of the patio. In a few years it's orange and red and blue flowers will tie-in the colors of the two trees, and fill the space between them with beautiful foliage. I hope you'll inherit my love of plants, and help me in the garden as you grow.
Hopefully by the end of February the work at the front of the house will be done. We're putting in irrigation and replacing the 60 year old lawn. When that work is done I'll be planting hostas, ferns and astilbe in the flowerbed under the living room windows, and the weeping cherry blossom trees will be planted at the yard's edge, near the sidewalk. In late March your grandfather on your father's side will be coming to stay for a bit, and we'll work on the side yard together. The gravel that was put in by the previous owners is black with sharp edges--pretty enough, but it's not safe for you--and we'll replace it with pavers, thus extending the patio area into a space that will be cool and shady on warm summer afternoons.
Sleeping is becoming more of a challenge, which isn't unexpected. It's a struggle to sleep on my side. I'm constantly waking up on my back with tingly nerve feelings in my legs. I am grateful for the tempurpedic bed, because otherwise I'd be sore and sleepless most of the time.
I'm trying not to obsess too much about the world you're being born into, and I'm trying not to let the sadness, anger, and despair I sometimes feel stick around for too long. I know that the biochemical soup you're swimming in can be affected by my stress, and thus affects you.
The world is in a sorry state, though. Carbon dioxide emissions have jumped tremendously, beyond the worst-case scenarios of many scientists. The oceans are acidifying because of carbon dioxide build-up, and the glaciers and polar ice are melting far more rapidly than predicted. When the rest of the world appears to be in agreement that we all need to limit CO2 emissions and wean off oil, the US, dominated as it is by oil-company-interests and lobbyists, seems determined to believe that we're the smart ones and the rest of the world has been suckered by a hoax (roll eyes). Here in the States we've picked up the pace of natural gas extraction using techniques called "fracking", techniques that pump millions of gallons of water and chemicals into the ground to liberate the gas. The problem is, it's polluting ground-water, and drinking water is already in short supply world-wide. How terribly short-sighted of us.
Southern Europe is in a financial crises, and seeing as Italy accounts for nearly 20% of the GDP for the EU, it cannot be allowed to fail. However, the corrupt politicians and even more corrupt mafia are making people extremely reluctant to co-operate with austerity measures. Greece is on fire, literally. The people of Greece are protesting the way the world banks and the European Union are handling that nation's debt crisis -- a problem created with the help of Goldman Sachs, who helped Greece's politicians conceal it's debts so it could get into the EU in the first place.
I'm not sure what the Internet is going to look like for you when you're old enough to use it. Powerful lobbies are at work to make it easier to monetize media traffic and invade people's privacy in the name of copyright and IP protection. Between that and the increasing amount of money that corporations are pouring into PACs which influence the political landscape, I half-fear that Neal Stephenson's novel Snow Crash will be far more prophetic than any of us will like. Will you come into adulthood living in a corporate enclave in a corporate town policed by corporate security in an America in which the line between the haves and have-nots is sharply delineated? Or will you grow up in Canada, your father's homeland, because we had to flee the insanity here in the US? I don't know, but more and more it is looking like it may be a necessary option.
Everywhere in the world there is ideological oppression of one sort or another. Right now in the US women's rights are being targeted by politicians on the Right, hoping somehow to invigorate their conservative Christian base to get out and vote in November. The Republicans are having their primaries and caucuses right now, and it looks like less than 5% of eligible voters are actually showing up at the polls. I think all the negative super-PAC ads and attacks are alienating all voters, regardless of party. And I'm not sure this is accidental. It is in corporate interests to keep voter participation to a minimum. It is easier to control for a smaller electorate than a large, active one. It costs them less money to buy votes and politicians that way, and they've a much better chance of making sure things go their way.
Currently we're embroiled in a health care debate over whether or not employers should be required to provide health insurance that covers prescription contraceptives. The argument is it violates the freedom of religion in this country. The irony is that the Founding Fathers weren't concerned with preserving religious freedom from government interference. They were concerned about keeping religion OUT of government. Most of them were Deists, and most of them were appalled by the control that the various religious sects exerted over their congregations, cities, counties, and even states. The Christians of a couple of hundred years ago were not shy about running people out of town if they weren't of the same denomination, and weren't shy about trying to expand theocracy, which the Founding Fathers considered antithetical to their Enlightenment-Period beliefs and values. But most Americans are woefully ignorant of what happened yesterday, never mind what happened 200 or 300 years ago. Most are sheeple who are willing to believe what someone else spoon-feeds them, as long as it is dressed up to suit their ideological bent. It's sad, and discouraging, and frankly, disgusting.
But for all that, I am hopeful. I'm looking for ways to make the world a better place for you. I'm working on developing community in our neighborhood. I'm planting fruits and vegetables on our property and helping in Rachel's community garden. I'm looking at ways to develop and expand the Green Economy. I envision a world in which people live in harmony with the planet. A world in which every person lives a sustainable lifestyle and every company does business in a sustainable way. I believe it is possible for humanity to leap toward a new level of consciousness that unites, rather than divides us. If I didn't think it was possible to turn the tide of the world toward such things, I could not bring you into it. I hope when the time comes that you're self-aware and world-aware that you won't hate the older generations for what we've done, and what we've failed to do. I hope, I really hope, to make this a better world for you.
Love,
Mom
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Pregnancy and Emotions. Arrgghhhh!
Pregnancy and emotions go together like peas and carrots or corned beef and cabbage. Combinations I do not care for, I must admit. I'm finding myself overly-sensitive to things being said to me. I'm hearing "tone" that isn't there, and quite often I'm reacting before it occurs to me to stop and evaluate. I'm reading something, or listening to a program, or having a conversation and suddenly I'm in tears.
Most of the women I know have taken this escalation in stride, but I'm having real difficulties with it. I'm not normally an emotionally reactive person. I worked hard to put filters in place between impulse and action, and I usually do a good job of examining both my emotional responses, and the appropriateness of the actions I want to take. I understand that my thoughts and attitudes are causal forces in my life, and that while I may not have control over how I feel about something, I do have control over how I react. And how I react creates my life.
Enter pregnancy.
Context, contemplation, and understanding of the subjective nature of personal reality have taken a back seat to impulse. No more taking a moment to check-in and ask myself if that person really meant to say what I think I heard. Nope. I'm just going with whatever I'm feeling in the moment. And while that feels perfectly natural in that moment, the moments following whatever outburst occurs are pretty surreal. Some days I know I'm being unreasonable and irrational and I warn my partner in advance. But much of the time I'm apologizing to him after the fact. When I get upset and agitated, he gets upset and agitated -- mainly because until recently, I rarely ever got upset and agitated, and when I did, it was usually for a very obvious reason, and now all of a sudden I'm getting all worked-up and he has no idea why, which makes him feel attacked and/or anxious.
In some ways it is comical. I'm being what he considers a typical female right now -- so maybe I've not gone as far off my rocker as I think. He's mentioned how my emotional reactivity during pregnancy makes him appreciate just how even-tempered I normally am. And of course he's looking forward to the day I return to my normal self. I had to warn him last night that it may be a while, since breastfeeding will almost certainly prolong the duration of hormone-related emotions. I'm hoping I'll have developed a new strategy for coping with it before the baby is born. I'm probably being overly optimistic, though.
Bottom line, being in control of myself is very important to me, and I'm feeling powerless to control myself. Fortunately, my partner is being understanding. For now, anyway ;)
Most of the women I know have taken this escalation in stride, but I'm having real difficulties with it. I'm not normally an emotionally reactive person. I worked hard to put filters in place between impulse and action, and I usually do a good job of examining both my emotional responses, and the appropriateness of the actions I want to take. I understand that my thoughts and attitudes are causal forces in my life, and that while I may not have control over how I feel about something, I do have control over how I react. And how I react creates my life.
Enter pregnancy.
Context, contemplation, and understanding of the subjective nature of personal reality have taken a back seat to impulse. No more taking a moment to check-in and ask myself if that person really meant to say what I think I heard. Nope. I'm just going with whatever I'm feeling in the moment. And while that feels perfectly natural in that moment, the moments following whatever outburst occurs are pretty surreal. Some days I know I'm being unreasonable and irrational and I warn my partner in advance. But much of the time I'm apologizing to him after the fact. When I get upset and agitated, he gets upset and agitated -- mainly because until recently, I rarely ever got upset and agitated, and when I did, it was usually for a very obvious reason, and now all of a sudden I'm getting all worked-up and he has no idea why, which makes him feel attacked and/or anxious.
In some ways it is comical. I'm being what he considers a typical female right now -- so maybe I've not gone as far off my rocker as I think. He's mentioned how my emotional reactivity during pregnancy makes him appreciate just how even-tempered I normally am. And of course he's looking forward to the day I return to my normal self. I had to warn him last night that it may be a while, since breastfeeding will almost certainly prolong the duration of hormone-related emotions. I'm hoping I'll have developed a new strategy for coping with it before the baby is born. I'm probably being overly optimistic, though.
Bottom line, being in control of myself is very important to me, and I'm feeling powerless to control myself. Fortunately, my partner is being understanding. For now, anyway ;)
Friday, February 3, 2012
Observations on being 23 weeks pregnant at 43
I suppose it's just as well that I don't have a 9-to-5 job, because I find myself needing a nap every afternoon. My OB was very clear with me that since this is a high-risk pregnancy I should rest when my body tells me I need to rest. So afternoon naps it is. Sleeping is an interesting experience now, because I am normally a back sleeper and now the baby is getting big enough for my uterus to press against the nerves that run down my legs, making them tingle. I'm mostly sleeping on my side now -- until my bladder decides it's time to void it.
I've also started wearing a bra to bed so my breasts don't hurt -- which they do when I sleep on my side for any length of time. Catch-22.
I'm having vivid dreams. I often lay half-awake under the influence of a dream, thinking about something or someone. This morning it was a "Children of Men" type of dream. War-torn environment, holed up in a room feeling frightened and big with child... M got up to intercept someone coming our direction and he was dragged off, fighting. My terror spiked and I knew I needed to stay calm, but I couldn't, so I found myself screaming for Dato -- he has a very deep calm. I woke up with his name right there on the front of my brain. I was worried that my psychic scream might have woken him up where he was sleeping 700 miles away, it was that strong.
I can't suck-in my stomach anymore, either. There just isn't any place for it to go. No more sit-ups, so I'm doing reverse ones -- raising my knees toward my torso as close as I can. I'm hating lap belts when I drive, too. I don't like that pressure low on my pelvis. It feels... off. It also seems to contribute to the "I need to pee" feeling. I'm tempted to just go with the shoulder restraint only.
My hair is growing fast, which I like, but so are my nails, which I'm not so keen about. I'm clipping them daily, it seems. The best news is that I'm not getting any of the acne some women get when they're pregnant. I think it helps that I don't wear make-up.
I find that I'm walking slower, and more carefully. I can feel the baby-weight in front of me a bit, and when I go for long walks I can feel the muscles / ligaments are getting tender -- stretching. My joints are loosening up and my knees hurt much of the time. Curling up on the couch with a heated throw blanket really seems to help, though.
My libido is also raging. I think I'd have sex all day if I could, but as it is, I'm masturbating almost daily. Multiple orgasms are a breeze right now. An old lover of mine told me that when his ex-wife was pregnant he made it his mission to give her an orgasm every day. He said a happy mommy makes a happy baby. Smart man!
Food cravings are ranging from CPK chopped salads to candied ginger to dark chocolate with sea salt. I picked up some frozen greek yogurt bars at Costco to deal with the ice cream cravings. They're 70 calories and 9 grams of protein, so I feel pretty good about having one.
That nesting-instinct thing is hitting me pretty hard these days. I have this urge to get things done -now-. I just hired a landscaper to come in and re-sod the front yard later this month. I had the fruit trees sprayed yesterday. I've been using the weed-eater and the hedge trimmer and the hula hoe in daily binges -- part exercise, part OCD. I've ordered some trees, even. Two flowering cherries and an Owari mandarin. The flowering cherries (Prunus pendula) will go out front at end of the month, and when the mandarin comes in from Monrovia we'll plant it near the patio, next to the lemon bottlebrush tree (Callistemon citrinus). We'll plant pear trees next year, I think, to compliment the peach and plum we already have, and to give some shade to the back yard, which faces south.
Inside, I've torn up my bedroom. I'm going through anything still in boxes and deciding what to keep and what to donate. I might just have a garage sale, actually. I have so many boxes of my grandmother's things -- china and silver and other things I'm unlikely to ever use but can't seem to part with, so they're being stacked up in the big closet in the room we've taken over as an office. I've never been much of a hoarder, except for books, and fortunately I found homes for about 2000 books last year. The ones I have left are things like signed first editions and out-of-print books that I may just pack up to keep safe from baby-fingers. And to make room for storing baby things. My Ikea Expedit bookshelf fits most baskets so it converts easily to other uses.
I've looked at the courses that Kaiser offers for new parents and I'll take them in March and April I think -- Labor and Delivery tours, newborn care, and breastfeeding. I think M will do the first two with me. That is my preference at least, and since I rarely state preferences, he usually pays attention when I do.
I'm getting a bit anxious about the whole birthing thing, not the pain so much as things like tearing versus episiotomy, the possibility of C-section if there is fetal distress, and choosing a birthing partner with both of my sisters out of the picture. M's empathy and sensitivities are likely to make him unsuitable as a partner for the entire process. He's confessed to a preference for the 1950's cigar-in-hand waiting room level of involvement, and I'm ok with that :) We've only known about the baby for 6 or 7 weeks now, so there is still so much adjusting to do, unintentional parents that we are.
I've also started wearing a bra to bed so my breasts don't hurt -- which they do when I sleep on my side for any length of time. Catch-22.
I'm having vivid dreams. I often lay half-awake under the influence of a dream, thinking about something or someone. This morning it was a "Children of Men" type of dream. War-torn environment, holed up in a room feeling frightened and big with child... M got up to intercept someone coming our direction and he was dragged off, fighting. My terror spiked and I knew I needed to stay calm, but I couldn't, so I found myself screaming for Dato -- he has a very deep calm. I woke up with his name right there on the front of my brain. I was worried that my psychic scream might have woken him up where he was sleeping 700 miles away, it was that strong.
I can't suck-in my stomach anymore, either. There just isn't any place for it to go. No more sit-ups, so I'm doing reverse ones -- raising my knees toward my torso as close as I can. I'm hating lap belts when I drive, too. I don't like that pressure low on my pelvis. It feels... off. It also seems to contribute to the "I need to pee" feeling. I'm tempted to just go with the shoulder restraint only.
My hair is growing fast, which I like, but so are my nails, which I'm not so keen about. I'm clipping them daily, it seems. The best news is that I'm not getting any of the acne some women get when they're pregnant. I think it helps that I don't wear make-up.
I find that I'm walking slower, and more carefully. I can feel the baby-weight in front of me a bit, and when I go for long walks I can feel the muscles / ligaments are getting tender -- stretching. My joints are loosening up and my knees hurt much of the time. Curling up on the couch with a heated throw blanket really seems to help, though.
My libido is also raging. I think I'd have sex all day if I could, but as it is, I'm masturbating almost daily. Multiple orgasms are a breeze right now. An old lover of mine told me that when his ex-wife was pregnant he made it his mission to give her an orgasm every day. He said a happy mommy makes a happy baby. Smart man!
Food cravings are ranging from CPK chopped salads to candied ginger to dark chocolate with sea salt. I picked up some frozen greek yogurt bars at Costco to deal with the ice cream cravings. They're 70 calories and 9 grams of protein, so I feel pretty good about having one.
That nesting-instinct thing is hitting me pretty hard these days. I have this urge to get things done -now-. I just hired a landscaper to come in and re-sod the front yard later this month. I had the fruit trees sprayed yesterday. I've been using the weed-eater and the hedge trimmer and the hula hoe in daily binges -- part exercise, part OCD. I've ordered some trees, even. Two flowering cherries and an Owari mandarin. The flowering cherries (Prunus pendula) will go out front at end of the month, and when the mandarin comes in from Monrovia we'll plant it near the patio, next to the lemon bottlebrush tree (Callistemon citrinus). We'll plant pear trees next year, I think, to compliment the peach and plum we already have, and to give some shade to the back yard, which faces south.
Inside, I've torn up my bedroom. I'm going through anything still in boxes and deciding what to keep and what to donate. I might just have a garage sale, actually. I have so many boxes of my grandmother's things -- china and silver and other things I'm unlikely to ever use but can't seem to part with, so they're being stacked up in the big closet in the room we've taken over as an office. I've never been much of a hoarder, except for books, and fortunately I found homes for about 2000 books last year. The ones I have left are things like signed first editions and out-of-print books that I may just pack up to keep safe from baby-fingers. And to make room for storing baby things. My Ikea Expedit bookshelf fits most baskets so it converts easily to other uses.
I've looked at the courses that Kaiser offers for new parents and I'll take them in March and April I think -- Labor and Delivery tours, newborn care, and breastfeeding. I think M will do the first two with me. That is my preference at least, and since I rarely state preferences, he usually pays attention when I do.
I'm getting a bit anxious about the whole birthing thing, not the pain so much as things like tearing versus episiotomy, the possibility of C-section if there is fetal distress, and choosing a birthing partner with both of my sisters out of the picture. M's empathy and sensitivities are likely to make him unsuitable as a partner for the entire process. He's confessed to a preference for the 1950's cigar-in-hand waiting room level of involvement, and I'm ok with that :) We've only known about the baby for 6 or 7 weeks now, so there is still so much adjusting to do, unintentional parents that we are.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
And reason falls by the wayside...
This whole baby-thing is intimidating me. I'm slowly becoming irrational, and I know it.
Physically, it helps that I now understand that what is happening to my body are pregnancy-related changes, and yet, even with the various online newsletters coaching me through what is happening week-by-week, I'm still experiencing disquiet. Sometimes I even feel hijacked.
Mentally, I'm foggy. I feel like a sharp knife that is going dull. I sometimes struggle with putting words together when I'm speaking. My clarity is slipping. I'm not quite bovine but I'm terrified that I'm on my way.
Emotionally, I find myself engaged quite often in conversations with myself, trying to reassure myself that these emotional surges are just pregnancy-related and not really meaningful. I find myself just reacting more and more over silly things that don't really matter and it disturbs me because I normally have my finger on my emotional pulse and head off outbursts with validation and rational self-talk.
I'm trying to keep myself under control, trying to minimize the external expression of what is going on internally. I'm trying to minimize it, because I know that pregnant women can be notoriously moody and capricious, and I know that it's difficult for the people living with them day after day. I'm trying so hard not to put M through this "perfect storm" I'm in. He's accustomed to something very different.
But it's getting more and more difficult, and I'm feeling irrationally resentful about the effort I'm going to in order to keep the boat from rocking. I feel that there isn't any recognition from him, just upset when I fail to be my usual calm, rational self. Telling him I'm pregnant and I'm trying so hard not to externalize all this turmoil doesn't seem to make a difference. He's caught up in his own emotional world right now--his world is unsettled, too. And that's okay. I get that this is all probably normal.
But normal for us is me making things easy. He's the intense one, I'm the easygoing one. To use his words, I'm the accommodating one. He's used to me recognizing when he's in a mood or stressed or whatever and giving him space and not pushing his buttons. Not taking it personally. He's used to me letting him know when I'm feeling upset before I start acting upset. Only my capacity to do those things and be that way is diminishing as my pregnancy advances. And communication is the keystone of our relationship. Argh.
An hour from now I'll probably feel differently. Maybe. Hopefully. I'm sure we'll weather this and everything will be okay in the end. It's not like this problem is unknown to most couples during pregnancies. I half wish I was more of a "typical female" in our relationship, because at least he'd have coping mechanisms in place for when reason falls by the wayside. But he doesn't and I'm not and I guess we'll learn how to cope with these changes along with all the others we have to look forward to as unintentional parents. Ah hell... ;)
Physically, it helps that I now understand that what is happening to my body are pregnancy-related changes, and yet, even with the various online newsletters coaching me through what is happening week-by-week, I'm still experiencing disquiet. Sometimes I even feel hijacked.
Mentally, I'm foggy. I feel like a sharp knife that is going dull. I sometimes struggle with putting words together when I'm speaking. My clarity is slipping. I'm not quite bovine but I'm terrified that I'm on my way.
Emotionally, I find myself engaged quite often in conversations with myself, trying to reassure myself that these emotional surges are just pregnancy-related and not really meaningful. I find myself just reacting more and more over silly things that don't really matter and it disturbs me because I normally have my finger on my emotional pulse and head off outbursts with validation and rational self-talk.
I'm trying to keep myself under control, trying to minimize the external expression of what is going on internally. I'm trying to minimize it, because I know that pregnant women can be notoriously moody and capricious, and I know that it's difficult for the people living with them day after day. I'm trying so hard not to put M through this "perfect storm" I'm in. He's accustomed to something very different.
But it's getting more and more difficult, and I'm feeling irrationally resentful about the effort I'm going to in order to keep the boat from rocking. I feel that there isn't any recognition from him, just upset when I fail to be my usual calm, rational self. Telling him I'm pregnant and I'm trying so hard not to externalize all this turmoil doesn't seem to make a difference. He's caught up in his own emotional world right now--his world is unsettled, too. And that's okay. I get that this is all probably normal.
But normal for us is me making things easy. He's the intense one, I'm the easygoing one. To use his words, I'm the accommodating one. He's used to me recognizing when he's in a mood or stressed or whatever and giving him space and not pushing his buttons. Not taking it personally. He's used to me letting him know when I'm feeling upset before I start acting upset. Only my capacity to do those things and be that way is diminishing as my pregnancy advances. And communication is the keystone of our relationship. Argh.
An hour from now I'll probably feel differently. Maybe. Hopefully. I'm sure we'll weather this and everything will be okay in the end. It's not like this problem is unknown to most couples during pregnancies. I half wish I was more of a "typical female" in our relationship, because at least he'd have coping mechanisms in place for when reason falls by the wayside. But he doesn't and I'm not and I guess we'll learn how to cope with these changes along with all the others we have to look forward to as unintentional parents. Ah hell... ;)
Friday, January 27, 2012
My Greatest Fear
When I was a kid my parents often hurled a curse at us: "I hope one day you have a child just like you!"
I didn't understand what they meant when I was grammar-school aged (except that I was somehow "bad"), though later I decided it was an expression of frustration resulting from their obvious incompetence as parents. Being a teenager, I knew everything, of course, and my parents, though older and more experienced, were somehow stupider. The hubris of youth, eh?
Today, though, as I find my bladder shrinking and my breasts expanding, I've starting wondering about what my son will be like, with my parent's words echoing in my mind. And more and more, I'm hoping he'll be like M. His parents say he was an easy baby and an easy child. He wasn't fussy or demanding, he wasn't a trouble-maker, and he wasn't accident prone. Just a little contrarian. And he's still contrarian. And given that I'm contrarian too, I will not be surprised if our son is as well. I'm ok with that. Contrarians don't follow the herd. We are comfortable questioning the majority (the status quo, the conventional wisdom, the common practice) when it doesn't make sense to us, and we'll often do the opposite just to demonstrate our disagreement. I can handle contrarians. I are one :)
I understand that a child's behavior and psychology are heavily influenced by their parent's behavior and psychology, and M and I are both pretty self-aware people, so I'm not too concerned about our child picking up passive-aggressive behaviors and the like from us. I'm not sure how much having a child will affect our relationship, but right now at least, we don't play the typical gender-role based mind-games many couples do. We're both too pragmatic and efficiency-minded to waste time with such counter-productive forms of communication. Our son will probably be very direct and verbally articulate, because that is how we are with each other.
Back to fears:
M's greatest fear is having a stupid child. It sounds like a terrible thing to say, but I understand. Heritability of intelligence is polygenic and highly variable depending on environment. So that M and I both have IQs over 140 doesn't mean our son will qualify for Mensa from birth. In his experience, it is difficult for people of very different intelligence levels to connect, and he's afraid he won't be able to relate to his son if he's not "bright."
Meanwhile, my greatest fear is of having a child like the one I was.
My friends have heard the stories over the years, and they are amusing. Except if you think about being the parent of a child like I was. Now I recognize that much of my early childhood behavior and psychology was influenced by my parents and my environment (the former being disinterested and the latter being quite odd), and I know that the environment I provide will be very different, but I can't help but wonder if the the way I viewed, experienced, and interacted with the world is something that will be passed on.
I was a terribly bright child. I heard it again this Christmas from the woman (Susan) who taught me to read and tell time and tie my shoes before I was 4 years old. I was rather solemn and observant, active but not hyper, and very very curious. I wanted to know. I wanted answers. And I didn't hesititate to act in my pursuit of those answers. I was a budding scientist, always seeing connections and causality and wondering if the patterns I observed could be applied to other things. Put that way, it sounds innocuous enough but in many ways it wasn't.
A month ago at Xmas Susan and I were laughing about "The Water Hose Incident" It was interesting to hear about it from her perspective, and to remember it from my (then child's) perspective. Putting the two together made for a comical story.
It goes something like this:
Adult perspective: Pregnant Mother was out in the garage doing laundry and talking on the phone. While she was doing this, Kelly fed a garden hose through the mail slot in the front door and flooded much of the house with several inches of water. She splashed water everywhere, getting the TV, the stereo, and even her sister in the playpen soaking wet. When Mother discovered the mess she called Susan to come take Kelly away for a few days so she wouldn't kill her. The carpets had to be torn up and replaced, the TV and the stereo were ruined, and the water had to be pumped out of the house. It was a mess!
Child's perspective: Oooh look! When you water a lawn, brown grass turns green. My carpet is brown, if I water it, will it turn that pretty green color? The mailman puts things through the slot in the door, can I put the hose through the slot in the door? If I can put the hose through the slot in the door, then maybe I can turn the carpet green! I'm watering the carpet but it isn't turning green yet. You have to move the sprinkler around to water all of the lawn so it all turns green, so maybe if I water all of the carpet, then it will turn green. Things are in the way, but I have to get all of the carpet watered, so I am going to have to water them too, I guess. Oh no! Tammy is screaming and crying. I like playing in the sprinklers, why doesn't she? Uh-oh, Mommy is yelling. I'm not supposed to water the carpets? Why not? And if I'm not supposed to, why didn't anyone tell me that?
Amusing, isn't it? Only it wasn't an isolated incident. Long before I could be shipped off to kindergarten I was already dismantling things to find out how they worked. Crawling into places to see what was there. Trying to use grown-up tools to do grown-up tasks. The world was a puzzle and I was determined to solve it.
Now admittedly, I was left unattended a lot, and my parents often resorted to "I don't know" and "Because I said so" and "Go away" when it came to my endless questions. So I tried to learn things by myself. My parents, young as they were, didn't know how to cope with me. I scared the hell out of them many, many times. And back then, thorough spankings were legal, so I was spanked a lot for reasons I didn't understand, which brought out the contrarian in me and made things even more difficult all around.
Ok, so... maybe... thinking about it... my "awfulness" as a child was less about me and more a function of my parent's lack of preparedness to handle a child like me. But then again, is it even possible to prepare for a child like me? I'm not going to have 3 children under age five like my mother did, and M isn't going to have the PTSD that my father did when he came home from Viet Nam. I'm 20 years older than they were when I was born. I've had years of training and experience working with children -- but those were other people's children. I'm a calm person, not a reactive one, and I know not to let kids push my buttons. But still...
I guess my greatest fear isn't so much that I'll have a child like me, but rather, that I'd lose my mind trying to be an adequate parent for a child like me. A nice, sweet, quiet baby like M was -- no problem. But a double-handful of a child who is impossibly bright and contrarian and always on the go and getting into things... I don't know. I suppose time will tell if this unintentional mother has what it takes.
I didn't understand what they meant when I was grammar-school aged (except that I was somehow "bad"), though later I decided it was an expression of frustration resulting from their obvious incompetence as parents. Being a teenager, I knew everything, of course, and my parents, though older and more experienced, were somehow stupider. The hubris of youth, eh?
Today, though, as I find my bladder shrinking and my breasts expanding, I've starting wondering about what my son will be like, with my parent's words echoing in my mind. And more and more, I'm hoping he'll be like M. His parents say he was an easy baby and an easy child. He wasn't fussy or demanding, he wasn't a trouble-maker, and he wasn't accident prone. Just a little contrarian. And he's still contrarian. And given that I'm contrarian too, I will not be surprised if our son is as well. I'm ok with that. Contrarians don't follow the herd. We are comfortable questioning the majority (the status quo, the conventional wisdom, the common practice) when it doesn't make sense to us, and we'll often do the opposite just to demonstrate our disagreement. I can handle contrarians. I are one :)
I understand that a child's behavior and psychology are heavily influenced by their parent's behavior and psychology, and M and I are both pretty self-aware people, so I'm not too concerned about our child picking up passive-aggressive behaviors and the like from us. I'm not sure how much having a child will affect our relationship, but right now at least, we don't play the typical gender-role based mind-games many couples do. We're both too pragmatic and efficiency-minded to waste time with such counter-productive forms of communication. Our son will probably be very direct and verbally articulate, because that is how we are with each other.
Back to fears:
M's greatest fear is having a stupid child. It sounds like a terrible thing to say, but I understand. Heritability of intelligence is polygenic and highly variable depending on environment. So that M and I both have IQs over 140 doesn't mean our son will qualify for Mensa from birth. In his experience, it is difficult for people of very different intelligence levels to connect, and he's afraid he won't be able to relate to his son if he's not "bright."
Meanwhile, my greatest fear is of having a child like the one I was.
My friends have heard the stories over the years, and they are amusing. Except if you think about being the parent of a child like I was. Now I recognize that much of my early childhood behavior and psychology was influenced by my parents and my environment (the former being disinterested and the latter being quite odd), and I know that the environment I provide will be very different, but I can't help but wonder if the the way I viewed, experienced, and interacted with the world is something that will be passed on.
I was a terribly bright child. I heard it again this Christmas from the woman (Susan) who taught me to read and tell time and tie my shoes before I was 4 years old. I was rather solemn and observant, active but not hyper, and very very curious. I wanted to know. I wanted answers. And I didn't hesititate to act in my pursuit of those answers. I was a budding scientist, always seeing connections and causality and wondering if the patterns I observed could be applied to other things. Put that way, it sounds innocuous enough but in many ways it wasn't.
A month ago at Xmas Susan and I were laughing about "The Water Hose Incident" It was interesting to hear about it from her perspective, and to remember it from my (then child's) perspective. Putting the two together made for a comical story.
It goes something like this:
Adult perspective: Pregnant Mother was out in the garage doing laundry and talking on the phone. While she was doing this, Kelly fed a garden hose through the mail slot in the front door and flooded much of the house with several inches of water. She splashed water everywhere, getting the TV, the stereo, and even her sister in the playpen soaking wet. When Mother discovered the mess she called Susan to come take Kelly away for a few days so she wouldn't kill her. The carpets had to be torn up and replaced, the TV and the stereo were ruined, and the water had to be pumped out of the house. It was a mess!
Child's perspective: Oooh look! When you water a lawn, brown grass turns green. My carpet is brown, if I water it, will it turn that pretty green color? The mailman puts things through the slot in the door, can I put the hose through the slot in the door? If I can put the hose through the slot in the door, then maybe I can turn the carpet green! I'm watering the carpet but it isn't turning green yet. You have to move the sprinkler around to water all of the lawn so it all turns green, so maybe if I water all of the carpet, then it will turn green. Things are in the way, but I have to get all of the carpet watered, so I am going to have to water them too, I guess. Oh no! Tammy is screaming and crying. I like playing in the sprinklers, why doesn't she? Uh-oh, Mommy is yelling. I'm not supposed to water the carpets? Why not? And if I'm not supposed to, why didn't anyone tell me that?
Amusing, isn't it? Only it wasn't an isolated incident. Long before I could be shipped off to kindergarten I was already dismantling things to find out how they worked. Crawling into places to see what was there. Trying to use grown-up tools to do grown-up tasks. The world was a puzzle and I was determined to solve it.
Now admittedly, I was left unattended a lot, and my parents often resorted to "I don't know" and "Because I said so" and "Go away" when it came to my endless questions. So I tried to learn things by myself. My parents, young as they were, didn't know how to cope with me. I scared the hell out of them many, many times. And back then, thorough spankings were legal, so I was spanked a lot for reasons I didn't understand, which brought out the contrarian in me and made things even more difficult all around.
Ok, so... maybe... thinking about it... my "awfulness" as a child was less about me and more a function of my parent's lack of preparedness to handle a child like me. But then again, is it even possible to prepare for a child like me? I'm not going to have 3 children under age five like my mother did, and M isn't going to have the PTSD that my father did when he came home from Viet Nam. I'm 20 years older than they were when I was born. I've had years of training and experience working with children -- but those were other people's children. I'm a calm person, not a reactive one, and I know not to let kids push my buttons. But still...
I guess my greatest fear isn't so much that I'll have a child like me, but rather, that I'd lose my mind trying to be an adequate parent for a child like me. A nice, sweet, quiet baby like M was -- no problem. But a double-handful of a child who is impossibly bright and contrarian and always on the go and getting into things... I don't know. I suppose time will tell if this unintentional mother has what it takes.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Mini-freakout #1 (for January)
The other day I watched a woman unpacking a baby from her SUV. Out came a bulky stroller from the back. Then the baby-seat, with baby inside, was attached to the stroller with no small effort. Then came the coup de gras that flipped my anxiety switch: She slung a massive bag over her shoulder.
I've detested purses and the like ever since I was a child. Every woman I knew seemed to be burdened by massive bags. I was allowed, even encouraged, to carry them in order to relieve my mother, and especially my grandmother, of the weight, but the contents were forbidden to me most of the time. As I grew older and came to understand the questionable purpose of all the junk women carried, I swore to myself that I'd never carry a purse. And I haven't. The only purse in my possession is a little black clutch for formal occasions. Everything I need to carry on my person is contained within a functional little plastic wallet that usually hangs around my neck, inside my clothes.
And suddenly, watching that unfortunate woman sling that huge bag around, I realized that one day soon that would be me, walking around with the straps of a diaper bag digging into my shoulder, pushing an equally heavily-burdened stroller toward the goal-of-the-moment. It literally stole my breath from me. Wanting a baby, having a baby, caring for a baby -- the enormity of what I was taking on -- symbolized by a silly diaper bag -- slapped me hard in the chest.
I allowed myself a momentary indulgence in my anxiety and resentment, reminded myself to breathe, and then firmly, but gently, told myself to get over it. Diaper bags and purses and so much more baby gear was soon to be a part of my daily reality and no amount of pouting on the part of my inner-child was going to change that.
Anxiety attack averted :)
I've detested purses and the like ever since I was a child. Every woman I knew seemed to be burdened by massive bags. I was allowed, even encouraged, to carry them in order to relieve my mother, and especially my grandmother, of the weight, but the contents were forbidden to me most of the time. As I grew older and came to understand the questionable purpose of all the junk women carried, I swore to myself that I'd never carry a purse. And I haven't. The only purse in my possession is a little black clutch for formal occasions. Everything I need to carry on my person is contained within a functional little plastic wallet that usually hangs around my neck, inside my clothes.
And suddenly, watching that unfortunate woman sling that huge bag around, I realized that one day soon that would be me, walking around with the straps of a diaper bag digging into my shoulder, pushing an equally heavily-burdened stroller toward the goal-of-the-moment. It literally stole my breath from me. Wanting a baby, having a baby, caring for a baby -- the enormity of what I was taking on -- symbolized by a silly diaper bag -- slapped me hard in the chest.
I allowed myself a momentary indulgence in my anxiety and resentment, reminded myself to breathe, and then firmly, but gently, told myself to get over it. Diaper bags and purses and so much more baby gear was soon to be a part of my daily reality and no amount of pouting on the part of my inner-child was going to change that.
Anxiety attack averted :)
Friday, January 13, 2012
We're having a baby!
Earlier this afternoon the phone rang. It was the genetic counselor from Kaiser, calling to tell me that the amniocentesis results came back normal. By all accounts we've got a healthy baby on the way.
I thanked her tearfully, had a little cry, and then pulled M away from his travel preparations to give him the news.
He was relieved, but the news heightened his stress-level. Now he has to start telling people. Like his grandmother.
M is one of the most intensely private people I know. He's a closed book to most people because he shares so little of himself. I know that it is a habit formed in childhood: he was the small kid in classrooms with kids a couple of years older than himself, kids who resented the protective delight their teachers took in him. Mentally, he was light-years ahead of his peers, but socially, well, he wasn't ready for the older age group. In addition to being incredibly brilliant, M is a highly sensitive person (HSP), and his sensory processing sensitivity makes him uncomfortably aware of what other people are thinking and feeling. It's always just been easier for him to keep to himself than to push through the discomfort of relating to and with others unlike himself.
Fortunately for him, his father (and grandmother) understand this about him. His mother, not so much. She's often upset with him for not telling her things she thinks are important, but as he's reminded her, she does the same thing, so she's one to talk :)
So... M keeps to himself. Small social circles, few overlapping, with little information exchange. His introversion means he has difficulty determining where his differences from others lie, and since being different was always a painful thing, I think it is just easier for him to assume that other people think and feel the same way he does. He's never been one to talk about his romantic relationships, not to anyone. I think I'm the only exception to the rule. And, interestingly enough, he prefers not to hear about others' relationships, exploits, etc. It makes him uncomfortable, the thoughts and mental images that scroll through his mind, so he prefers not to know the intimate details, and has difficulty understanding why anyone would want to know such details about him.
Which is where telling people about the baby is difficult and stressful for him, I know. I'm trying not to take it personally, trying not to make it about me or the baby, when it's really about him. Telling others about the baby means he has to reveal the true nature of our relationship to people who, in the absence of details, will fill in the blanks themselves. It is one thing for people to assume he's sexually active. It's quite another for others to know that he is, to know who he's with, and for them to imagine what may or may not go on in the privacy of his bedroom. He says he's prim. I say he's prudish and quaint. It's a part of who he is, and I get that about him, even though we're quite opposite in that way. Hell, I'm a sex educator, among other things :)
He's taking his grandmother to Vegas this weekend. She loves casinos and slot machines, and seeing as she's 89, he isn't sure how much longer she's going to be able to travel and get around under her own steam. So he's planned a fun, memorable weekend at the Mirage in Vegas. He's thoughtful that way.
On our way out door, M asked his grandmother how many great-grandchildren she wants. I think she said four. He reached out and put his hand on my belly and told her she'd have her first great-grandchild in May. She lit up and looked sly. She said she'd thought I was pregnant -- she knew the signs -- and was very happy to know she'd read them right. We've spent a week together and had some conversations, and she's seen us together, so she knows the love that is there between us.
Hopefully, they'll have an uneventful flight to Vegas, and I'll have an uneventful weekend. I'm feeling a bit tired. Must have been all the flowerbed weeding I did.
I thanked her tearfully, had a little cry, and then pulled M away from his travel preparations to give him the news.
He was relieved, but the news heightened his stress-level. Now he has to start telling people. Like his grandmother.
M is one of the most intensely private people I know. He's a closed book to most people because he shares so little of himself. I know that it is a habit formed in childhood: he was the small kid in classrooms with kids a couple of years older than himself, kids who resented the protective delight their teachers took in him. Mentally, he was light-years ahead of his peers, but socially, well, he wasn't ready for the older age group. In addition to being incredibly brilliant, M is a highly sensitive person (HSP), and his sensory processing sensitivity makes him uncomfortably aware of what other people are thinking and feeling. It's always just been easier for him to keep to himself than to push through the discomfort of relating to and with others unlike himself.
Fortunately for him, his father (and grandmother) understand this about him. His mother, not so much. She's often upset with him for not telling her things she thinks are important, but as he's reminded her, she does the same thing, so she's one to talk :)
So... M keeps to himself. Small social circles, few overlapping, with little information exchange. His introversion means he has difficulty determining where his differences from others lie, and since being different was always a painful thing, I think it is just easier for him to assume that other people think and feel the same way he does. He's never been one to talk about his romantic relationships, not to anyone. I think I'm the only exception to the rule. And, interestingly enough, he prefers not to hear about others' relationships, exploits, etc. It makes him uncomfortable, the thoughts and mental images that scroll through his mind, so he prefers not to know the intimate details, and has difficulty understanding why anyone would want to know such details about him.
Which is where telling people about the baby is difficult and stressful for him, I know. I'm trying not to take it personally, trying not to make it about me or the baby, when it's really about him. Telling others about the baby means he has to reveal the true nature of our relationship to people who, in the absence of details, will fill in the blanks themselves. It is one thing for people to assume he's sexually active. It's quite another for others to know that he is, to know who he's with, and for them to imagine what may or may not go on in the privacy of his bedroom. He says he's prim. I say he's prudish and quaint. It's a part of who he is, and I get that about him, even though we're quite opposite in that way. Hell, I'm a sex educator, among other things :)
He's taking his grandmother to Vegas this weekend. She loves casinos and slot machines, and seeing as she's 89, he isn't sure how much longer she's going to be able to travel and get around under her own steam. So he's planned a fun, memorable weekend at the Mirage in Vegas. He's thoughtful that way.
On our way out door, M asked his grandmother how many great-grandchildren she wants. I think she said four. He reached out and put his hand on my belly and told her she'd have her first great-grandchild in May. She lit up and looked sly. She said she'd thought I was pregnant -- she knew the signs -- and was very happy to know she'd read them right. We've spent a week together and had some conversations, and she's seen us together, so she knows the love that is there between us.
Hopefully, they'll have an uneventful flight to Vegas, and I'll have an uneventful weekend. I'm feeling a bit tired. Must have been all the flowerbed weeding I did.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Amniocentesis Day
I've had a fair amount of impatience and anxiety leading up to this day. I'm nearly 19 weeks pregnant and nearly 44 years old. I didn't plan to get pregnant. In fact, I was told I couldn't get pregnant. But I did get pregnant, and I was taking some medications you don't want to take when you're pregnant, and I was on a serious weight-reduction regimen that might have not been nutritionally optimal for early pregnancy.
And I'm nearly 44. I mentioned that, right? My eggs are 44 years old, too, and cells that old have a greater likelihood of developing genetic transcription errors during fertilization and cell division. In other words, birth defects.
So what makes all this so difficult is that I need an amniocentesis to determine with greater than 90% accuracy the presence or absence of certain birth defects. And you have to be around 16 weeks for amniocentesis, and the Holidays limited the number of slots available, and it can take 2 weeks for the results. And the longer I carry this baby the more attached to it I become.
I'm also anxious about M being there for the appointment. I don't want to do it alone, and I want him to be there because I hope it will help make the reality of the baby more real for him, as seeing the fetus on the first ultrasound did for me. He's not really engaged yet. I think he's trying not to become attached to it in case we get bad news. At least I hope that's it.
I think of the two of us M is the most nervous and conflicted. I think the responsibility for 3 people on a single income freaks him out a little, as does the concern about birth defects. The age difference between us is also a matter of concern. I think he's worried if something happened to me he'd be raising a child on his own. As it is, I'm looking at being 65 when this baby would reach 21, and he'd be 56. My grandmother was 45 when she brought my mother home, and I've many friends who were raised by 'older' parents. This is a situation that is becoming more common and accepted as women delay childbearing in favor of establishing careers, and I also know that there is longevity in my family -- It is possible for me live well into my 80s and 90s.
Impending lifestyle change is also a major concern for us both. In his case, he has always wanted children, so the adjustments on his part would have to be made eventually, but for me, well, most of it has never been on my radar. Peace and quiet will no longer reign, and spontaneous trips won't be possible for a long while. Baby-related expenses cutting into discretionary spending. Sleep shortages. Baby-proofing. M's penchant for leaving electronics and whatnot laying around would have to change. Residency and Visa concerns. The baby's citizenship. The list seems endless.
But back to today... This morning I drove down 101 to Kaiser Permanente's Santa Clara medical center, passing the campus where M worked, and hoping he wouldn't be too late. Just as I passed the exit for his work, he pulled onto the highway, right behind me. I didn't notice, even with him honking and waving at me from behind, so he called my cell phone. I felt such gratitude and relief that he was there, that he had my back, so to speak, that I wanted to cry.
We had a bit of a wait for our room, about 45 minutes, but once we got in, things happened pretty quickly. The ultrasound technician was great. Sweet and professional. She told me every move she was making in advance, so I'd have a moment to prepare myself. The ultrasound equipment was amazing. We got to see 3D images of the baby, inside and out. The halves of the brain, the chambers of the heart. Watched as it swallowed amniotic fluid that traveled down the esophagus. Counted fingers and toes. Saw nice long legs stretched out. And saw the external plumbing. (Yes, it's a boy!)
The perinatologist came in afterwards and reviewed the ultrasound image and video captures. She confirmed that the measurements for the baby were in line with the original due date of May 31, 2012 and that there we no obvious birth defects showing on the ultrasound. (Yes!)
And then they started prepping me for the amniocentesis. M seemed pretty anxious so I invited him to leave and he stepped out. Which made it easier for me to relax. There are times when having a strong connection with your partner is detrimental, and this was one of those times. I'd read up on the procedure, so I knew what to expect, but even so, I twitched when she pushed the needle through the uterine wall. I watched her draw the faintly yellowish fluid out, and then it was over.
I experienced some twinging cramps for about 30 minutes afterwards, and that was all. Minimal discomfort, really, and worth it, every moment of it, for the lab results I'm hoping to get in the next two weeks.
More waiting. I'll be well-distracted though. M's grandmother arrives in three days. She doesn't know about the pregnancy. It would be her first great-grandchild and he doesn't want to take that away from her if the tests come back with bad news, so he's waiting, too.
And I'm nearly 44. I mentioned that, right? My eggs are 44 years old, too, and cells that old have a greater likelihood of developing genetic transcription errors during fertilization and cell division. In other words, birth defects.
So what makes all this so difficult is that I need an amniocentesis to determine with greater than 90% accuracy the presence or absence of certain birth defects. And you have to be around 16 weeks for amniocentesis, and the Holidays limited the number of slots available, and it can take 2 weeks for the results. And the longer I carry this baby the more attached to it I become.
I'm also anxious about M being there for the appointment. I don't want to do it alone, and I want him to be there because I hope it will help make the reality of the baby more real for him, as seeing the fetus on the first ultrasound did for me. He's not really engaged yet. I think he's trying not to become attached to it in case we get bad news. At least I hope that's it.
I think of the two of us M is the most nervous and conflicted. I think the responsibility for 3 people on a single income freaks him out a little, as does the concern about birth defects. The age difference between us is also a matter of concern. I think he's worried if something happened to me he'd be raising a child on his own. As it is, I'm looking at being 65 when this baby would reach 21, and he'd be 56. My grandmother was 45 when she brought my mother home, and I've many friends who were raised by 'older' parents. This is a situation that is becoming more common and accepted as women delay childbearing in favor of establishing careers, and I also know that there is longevity in my family -- It is possible for me live well into my 80s and 90s.
Impending lifestyle change is also a major concern for us both. In his case, he has always wanted children, so the adjustments on his part would have to be made eventually, but for me, well, most of it has never been on my radar. Peace and quiet will no longer reign, and spontaneous trips won't be possible for a long while. Baby-related expenses cutting into discretionary spending. Sleep shortages. Baby-proofing. M's penchant for leaving electronics and whatnot laying around would have to change. Residency and Visa concerns. The baby's citizenship. The list seems endless.
But back to today... This morning I drove down 101 to Kaiser Permanente's Santa Clara medical center, passing the campus where M worked, and hoping he wouldn't be too late. Just as I passed the exit for his work, he pulled onto the highway, right behind me. I didn't notice, even with him honking and waving at me from behind, so he called my cell phone. I felt such gratitude and relief that he was there, that he had my back, so to speak, that I wanted to cry.
We had a bit of a wait for our room, about 45 minutes, but once we got in, things happened pretty quickly. The ultrasound technician was great. Sweet and professional. She told me every move she was making in advance, so I'd have a moment to prepare myself. The ultrasound equipment was amazing. We got to see 3D images of the baby, inside and out. The halves of the brain, the chambers of the heart. Watched as it swallowed amniotic fluid that traveled down the esophagus. Counted fingers and toes. Saw nice long legs stretched out. And saw the external plumbing. (Yes, it's a boy!)
The perinatologist came in afterwards and reviewed the ultrasound image and video captures. She confirmed that the measurements for the baby were in line with the original due date of May 31, 2012 and that there we no obvious birth defects showing on the ultrasound. (Yes!)
And then they started prepping me for the amniocentesis. M seemed pretty anxious so I invited him to leave and he stepped out. Which made it easier for me to relax. There are times when having a strong connection with your partner is detrimental, and this was one of those times. I'd read up on the procedure, so I knew what to expect, but even so, I twitched when she pushed the needle through the uterine wall. I watched her draw the faintly yellowish fluid out, and then it was over.
I experienced some twinging cramps for about 30 minutes afterwards, and that was all. Minimal discomfort, really, and worth it, every moment of it, for the lab results I'm hoping to get in the next two weeks.
More waiting. I'll be well-distracted though. M's grandmother arrives in three days. She doesn't know about the pregnancy. It would be her first great-grandchild and he doesn't want to take that away from her if the tests come back with bad news, so he's waiting, too.
Monday, January 2, 2012
One thing I'm not afraid of...
One thing I'm not afraid of is one thing I know many younger women fear when they learn they're pregnant: the fear of being a bad parent.
The interesting thing about finding myself pregnant in my early 40's is that I finally feel that I'm grown-up enough to be a parent.
There won't be any regrets. I've sowed my wild oats aplenty. I've lived my life powerfully and with gusto. I've done things I never thought I'd do, and I've done things people wish they had the courage to do. I've explored intimacy and connection and sexuality in many of their myriad forms, and helped others along the way. I've cared for the dying and suffered through injury and loss. I've traveled to Europe and Asia. Made friends all over the world. Seen my writing published both online and in print. Been gratified to know that tens of thousands of people every month listened to my recordings.
And finally, in the last couple of years, I've settled down. Settled down in a monogamous (gasp!) relationship with a wonderful man, bought a house and a kitten, and given thought to what I want to do next in my life.
In other words, I'm not a twenty-something who, finding herself pregnant, regrets the things she'll have to put off doing for 15 to 20 years. I'm not a thirty-something just hitting her stride in her life/career who will resent the lifestyle she's giving up. I'm a grown woman who finds herself pregnant at an age when many women are finding out they're going to be grandmothers. And I think that being older -- being truly adult, knowing who I am and who I can be -- greatly improves my chances of being an excellent parent.
That, and the fact that I'm a nurturer by nature.
So, no, of the many fears I have with regards to pregnancy and motherhood, being a bad parent isn't one of them. I know what a bad parent looks like. My own parents were way too young when they had me, and they came of age during the sexual revolution. They were far too preoccupied with having a good time. Especially my father, when he came home from Viet Nam. He had his own demons and partying was an escape, I think. I've never understood the urge for extreme levels of intoxication and ego-obliteration, but he was pretty single-minded in his pursuits for many years, as was my mother and my step-mother. To say it affected their parenting assumes they did much in the way of parenting. Which they did not. But to give them credit, they've openly admitted their shortcomings and done their best in the past 10 years or so to be there for their now adult kids in whatever capacity we'll have them. And that's something I admire. It takes self-awareness and courage and more than a little humility to own up to our mistakes and try to make amends.
Tomorrow is the level two ultrasound and amniocentesis. I've practically begged M to be there, even knowing that he's got a business meeting running right up to the appointment time. My biggest fear is that there will be something wrong with the baby, and if that's true, I don't want to be alone when I get the news.
The interesting thing about finding myself pregnant in my early 40's is that I finally feel that I'm grown-up enough to be a parent.
There won't be any regrets. I've sowed my wild oats aplenty. I've lived my life powerfully and with gusto. I've done things I never thought I'd do, and I've done things people wish they had the courage to do. I've explored intimacy and connection and sexuality in many of their myriad forms, and helped others along the way. I've cared for the dying and suffered through injury and loss. I've traveled to Europe and Asia. Made friends all over the world. Seen my writing published both online and in print. Been gratified to know that tens of thousands of people every month listened to my recordings.
And finally, in the last couple of years, I've settled down. Settled down in a monogamous (gasp!) relationship with a wonderful man, bought a house and a kitten, and given thought to what I want to do next in my life.
In other words, I'm not a twenty-something who, finding herself pregnant, regrets the things she'll have to put off doing for 15 to 20 years. I'm not a thirty-something just hitting her stride in her life/career who will resent the lifestyle she's giving up. I'm a grown woman who finds herself pregnant at an age when many women are finding out they're going to be grandmothers. And I think that being older -- being truly adult, knowing who I am and who I can be -- greatly improves my chances of being an excellent parent.
That, and the fact that I'm a nurturer by nature.
So, no, of the many fears I have with regards to pregnancy and motherhood, being a bad parent isn't one of them. I know what a bad parent looks like. My own parents were way too young when they had me, and they came of age during the sexual revolution. They were far too preoccupied with having a good time. Especially my father, when he came home from Viet Nam. He had his own demons and partying was an escape, I think. I've never understood the urge for extreme levels of intoxication and ego-obliteration, but he was pretty single-minded in his pursuits for many years, as was my mother and my step-mother. To say it affected their parenting assumes they did much in the way of parenting. Which they did not. But to give them credit, they've openly admitted their shortcomings and done their best in the past 10 years or so to be there for their now adult kids in whatever capacity we'll have them. And that's something I admire. It takes self-awareness and courage and more than a little humility to own up to our mistakes and try to make amends.
Tomorrow is the level two ultrasound and amniocentesis. I've practically begged M to be there, even knowing that he's got a business meeting running right up to the appointment time. My biggest fear is that there will be something wrong with the baby, and if that's true, I don't want to be alone when I get the news.
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