From cheerfully childless to mindful mommy

I'd be lying if I said that the transition from being cheerfully childless to motherhood has been a smooth one. My life is so radically different that is almost as if I woke up in an alternate universe.

I really loved the life I had before. I loved being able to pick up and go somewhere on a moment's notice. Loved the freedom to take a course or sit and write or stay up all night hanging out with friends. I had a few lovers, each unique and wonderful, each aware of each other and my love of them all. Even with death and dying in my family, such heavy subjects, I felt a lightness of being. I felt free from all the constraints I'd placed on myself over the years. I'd finally grown up and become fully me. And then my female best friend goaded me into recognizing that I'd fallen in love with M and accepting his invitation to move in with him. He supported me after my grandfather's death. We traveled. I supported him through a grueling start-up. We bought a house. And then I got pregnant out of the blue.

Yes, I miss my old life. I'm giving myself permission to miss it, and to come to terms with the changes and the challenges.

The loss of my independence has been the most difficult to adapt to. It would probably be easier if M and I had family closer by, or if I had more friends in the area, because I could call on them to spot me for things like doctor appointments or haircuts or shopping. As it is, I have to pack the Little Man up and bring him everywhere I go. It can be an ordeal even if it's just to go weed outside.  I find it damned inconvenient that I can't just climb up onto a ladder to clear the gutters or empty the dishwasher or take a shower without having to make some sort of provision for my son, especially now that he is crawling around and has figured out how to open cabinets and drawers. And really, there's nothing relaxing about showering listening to a baby howl with displeasure because he's trapped in a walker or a bouncer or otherwise restricted in movement. At best, I get to shower every other day. Any longer than that and the smell of baby puke and sour milk and my own body gets to me.

I miss being able to focus on myself. Before I got pregnant, I was determined to get down to a normal weight range and I made good progress. In having a baby at my age I made a further commitment to being healthy and fit. I'm down 100 pounds in the past 2.5 years. I really want to drop another 30 pounds but I've hit a plateau and my visits to the gym are too infrequent. I try working out at home but the Little Man either wants to participate or wander off. It's rather difficult to monitor him while tying to make sure I don't pull a muscle or otherwise injure myself due to inattentiveness. My doctor says I've done amazingly well and I should focus on maintenance more than further weight loss. He says he's concerned that my focus on dropping more weight will become sabotaging if I get too discouraged. Meanwhile, I'm fighting this near-constant "I'm hungry" feeling that the doc says to feed with warm water. I'm almost chronically under-hydrated since I started breast-feeding, and even after my milk dried up I still struggle to drink enough water -- I'm just too busy playing mommy.

The changes that pregnancy and childbirth have wrought on my body have mostly been awful. My body still doesn't feel like it belongs to me. I often find myself walking funny because there is a cramp in my pelvic area, usually the hip-flexor muscle, I think. My ass aches when I get up after sitting for a while. My lower abdominal muscles, while never particularly strong, seem to resist my efforts to tone them up--from the waist down I feel gelatinous. I'm ok with the changes to my breasts and nipples. I actually like them more, with the weightloss and the changes from pregnancy and lactation -- they are less lumpy than they used to be, and I'm fortunate that I didn't experience mastitis or thrush. The acid reflux and the intestinal spasms have been agonizing.  Since I'm not lactating anymore I switched from Tagamet to Prilosec and it's made a world of difference. Now there is occasional discomfort rather than a constant mid-level discomfort that ramped up to must-go-vomit-stomach-acid-now a few times a week, often a few times a day.

But before I sound too much like some whiny, ungrateful, unfit mother, I should say that I love my new life, too. I love the home I've made for the three of us. I'm happy here, even if I do miss my friends. I've got my patch of dirt to dig in and grow things. I am grateful that M's brilliant mind, which is what initially attracted me to him, is also attractive to so many companies here in Silicon Valley. He makes a good living and we try to live modestly on his income so we can still put money aside. Yes, I'm itching to take some courses and get myself marketable again so I can feel less dependent, but that will have to wait another year or so. I really enjoy his company and he enjoys mine. We talk to each other often, we snuggle when the baby's needs allow, and we both agree that having a baby together has made our bond deeper.

And our son! Wow, what an amazing little guy. Yes, he's teething right now and I really want to run screaming from the house after his nth meltdown, but he's got this wonderful smile and even when he's crying he tries to smile for me sometimes. He's developing so fast and he's becoming his own little person and even as I struggle not to create habits in him I'll regret later, I can't help but scoop him up and love on him. He has so much joy in him and I'm loving experiencing the world from his perspective. I'm experiencing an aspect of life that I'd never thought I would (parenthood) and while it's definitely a mixed bag, I've no regrets. I'm trying to be mindful of what I feed him, trying to keep his chemical-load to a minimum. I'm thinking about what stories I read him and what television programs he sees so I'm aware of what social and cultural norms are being passed on to him. I'm trying to create a safe space for him to grow into the person he wants to be --whatever that looks like. And seeing what a fine job some of my friends have done with their own children, I've got some good role-models and sources of of moral support.

Eudaimonia -- Well-being and The Good Life

I am the first to admit that I have a good life. A beautiful home, a generous and loving partner who is an excellent breadwinner, and a healthy, adorable baby boy. I'm lucky and I know it. Some days, as I'm doing the mundane household chores or consoling a teething baby, I am visited with a sense of the surreal.  Never, in a thousand imaginings of how I wanted my life to be, would I have imagined myself being Susie Homemaker balancing a baby on my hip as I see my man off to work.

Sure, I enjoyed the kept-woman period and did my best to enjoy being freed from a 9-to-5 job even as part of me resented being dependent and without enough income to support myself. My partner assisted me in growing my internet storefront business as best he could during the economic crash, and he was incredibly supportive as my family went through one health crisis after another. But finding out I was pregnant, well, that was a huge life-changer. And now, as the Little Man reaches the 8 month mark, as my body still recovers from the effects of pregnancy and childbirth, the reality of my life as an unintentional mother is both incredibly real, and incredibly surreal.

Little Man's milestone last month was cutting two teeth. This month, it seems to be locomotion. He started off with the military-style forearms and toes crawl at the beginning of the month and this week he's crawling on his hands and knees. And really getting around. I went to brush my teeth and freaked out when he wasn't anywhere near where I left him. He's also figured out how to pull himself up to a standing position. The first two days he fell over whenever I wasn't watching him like a hawk, but today he's stable on those sturdy little legs. He's falling on his face when his arms give out, but the thunks on the hardwood floor aren't quite as alarmingly loud. I'm kissing and rubbing boo-boos, mostly on his head. It's time to take the next step of child-proofing the plugs and adding baby-gates.

The benefit to all his physical exertion is he's finally napping for about an hour twice a day. The drawback is he's gotten very clingy -- perhaps from the pain / discomfort and the scariness of falling. He often cries when I put him down, so I basically wear the baby carrier 16 hours a day and carry him around in it until he pushes at me to let me know he wants out. If I put him down and move too far away, he starts to cry. Finding time for bio-breaks has become a challenge.

Solid foods are hit and miss. There are days when he won't eat cereal or pureed foods at all. Since my milk dried up he's been on formula, so his poops are really stinky, but less frequent. I worry that he's not getting enough calories, but whenever I pick him up he feels very solid. He's not a chubby baby by any stretch of the imagination, but neither is he a skinny one.

It seems like I'm never alone anymore. I am a person who enjoys my solitude. I think that has been the most difficult adjustment. I'm starting back to the gym, though, and my neighbor is coming over twice a week in the morning to give me a chance to workout, so Little Man is going to learn to adjust to not having me around all the time. I hope.

The acid reflux still gets away from me about once a week. I'm managing it with eating a boring diet and medication. I've also had a half-dozen spastic colon episodes. Very painful. Like labor pains. I'm trying to reduce the amount of time Little Man spends on my chest and belly, since his 20-plus pounds pressing into my body seems to aggravate things. I've had the x-rays and CT scan, the upper GI imaging, and over 30 different blood tests and aside from exceptionally large ovaries (courtesy of PCOS) there is nothing unusual. I'm in excellent health, though borderline anemic. I had eliminated all supplements when I noticed that pills weren't resting well on my acidic stomach, but now that it seems to be (mostly) under control, I'm taking them a few times a week. It's not perfect, but it's better than nothing.

At present I'm 75# lighter than I was the day I delivered Little Man. I'd like to drop another 30 this year. We'll see. I think I can manage 3 pounds a month. I'm wearing large women's tops and extra-large bottoms. Right now my excess weight is all below the belly button, courtesy of 10 years of sitting at a desk. I'm looking forward to focusing on my abdomen and thighs at the gym and getting my upper and lower body in better proportion to each other. Given that my mother and sister both were mermaid-shaped, I'm thinking I'm probably going to be bigger on the bottom no matter what I do, but my doc thinks the softness of the muscles in my lower abdomen has something to do with the spastic colon problem, so it's important to get that area of my body back in tone.

Through it all, M has been wonderfully supportive. He knows this isn't the life I'd imagined for myself, and he checks in with me a couple of times a month to make sure I'm doing ok. Believe it or not, the life I was building toward was living in a small house on the coast or in the mountains, alone, with lots of books and paper and time to meditate and garden. I'd imagined my various friends and partners visiting me, but never staying for long. For all my capacity to be a social person, I'm a hermit at heart. He's such an introvert that he considers me an extrovert. Heh.

It's all good though. I'm happy and pretty much healthy. The baby is happy and healthy. So is M. There are things I want to do, and they'll wait. Right now, it's important to be there for the Little Man.

End surreality check :)

Breast v. Bottle -- and 6 weeks of heartburn

Little Man isn't nursing. He doesn't want to nurse. He's made it abundantly clear that he finds nursing too much work / too frustrating compared to bottle-feeding.  I've seen the lactation consultant three times and I've got nipple shields and gravity-feed mini-tubing, and he's fine with them as long as he gets his milk straight away -- if there are any delays or kinks he pitches a fit. I'm trying to decide if messing with all this paraphernalia in hopes of getting him back on the breast is worth it. Admittedly, pumping 30oz of milk a day is a hassle, and the thought needing to pump for a couple of years is unexciting to say the least. The need to have a bottle ready in the wee hours, instead of just popping a nipple in his mouth so we can both get back to sleep, is disappointing. On the other hand, we're avoiding thrush and some of the other problems that go with nursing, and given my extreme sensitivity, that is something to be very happy about. In my observation, children that have been nursed for several months tend to be very secure -- they don't suffer from separation anxiety, etc -- so I've been trying to hold Little Man the way I would if he was nursing, rather than just propping him up and popping a bottle in his mouth (which I admit to doing sometimes).

I've been having problems with heartburn since we got home from the hospital -- even acid reflux and night coughing -- which is completely foreign to me. I've got (had) an iron stomach and now quite a lot of food isn't agreeing with me (yogurt, most dairy, sometimes eggs, most meats, fruits, juices, coffee, breads, etc). I've had to go buy protein drinks and protein bars to try to keep my intake up because I'm dropping 3 to 4 pounds a week and I'm concerned about the impact on my breastmilk supply. Even pumping ~30oz a day I'm having to supplement with 4 to 8 oz of formula a day for the past week. I'm hoping it's just because of the 5-6 week growth spurt I've heard about. I'm on a 14-day course of Prilosec to see if that eliminates the heartburn problem. Meanwhile I'm enjoying eating low-acid foods (like ice cream). I'll take any calories I can get right now.

Little Man's father went back to work today. I liked having him at home -- I really enjoy his company -- but it will be good to get into a routine during the week. Starting Monday.

The Little Man is here!

Our little man arrived this past weekend. 

It seems I managed to avoid the C-section that the doctor thought I was going to need because my cervix was so slow to dilate. They put in an epidural before they started the pitocin, and thus before there was any real pain, because my history of long, difficult intubations (for anesthesia) could be problematic if an emergency C-section was needed and I was too far along for an epidural. However, the slow induction worked out in the end -- after 20 hours on pitocin I suddenly progressed from 4cm to 8cm in a 2 hour period and then there was no stopping his arrival -- I pushed 3 times (with a lot of yelling on my part as it seemed once he was in the birth canal the epidural wasn't as effective) and there he was! The midwife said that the birth was so fast he was in shock when he arrived. It took a minute or so for him to cry.

M and my step-mother were there for the birth. Just barely. They walked into the room as he was crowning. M really surprised me by how much he participated in the delivery (he'd expressed some squeamishness) and early care of the baby. He was going to cut the cord but as they handed him the scissors the doctor cut the cord -- apparently it was wrapped around the little man's neck. My mom was here for a couple of days but had to go home. Fortunately, M is on paid paternity leave so he helps me with Little Man. He's a bit overwhelmed right now, but I've never known him to fail to step-up.

He's a perfectly healthy baby boy, thankfully. We had our concerns, even after the genetic screening came back clear, because of my age and the fact that I was on some medications in the first trimester (including the contraceptive pill) that they steered me clear of once I was diagnosed as pregnant. Since I managed my pregnancy weight so well, he was 7 pounds at birth. It looks like he'll have brown hair and brown or hazel eyes. He's got long legs and big feet so it looks like he's going to get the height on my father's side of the family, just like M wanted. Unfortunately, it also looks like he got my nose, which I have courtesy of my father ;)

The Unintentional Mother's Little Man

The first days with Little Man have been pretty intense, especially when he was only getting colostrum from my breasts, but now that my milk has come in, he's sleeping longer and the quality of his hunger cries is far less heartbreaking for me.

Well, the little guy is awake. Time for breakfast!

I'm blessed.

In my preoccupation with my unforeseen shift from comfortable infertility to unintentional motherhood, I've forgotten how many women out there only wish they had my problem. So many of the women my age who know I'm pregnant assume I worked hard to get pregnant. I've forgotten how many women struggle with infertility. But I know they're out there. I know women who've worked for years to get pregnant or adopt a child. I know many who succeeded, and many who failed.

When my sister was diagnosed with the same fertility problems as me, she was devastated. Her dream of raising a family and living happily ever after withered. It died with her, unfulfilled, at a time in her life where she probably could have afforded the infertility treatments that might have made a child possible. Me, on the other hand, I was ecstatic when I got the news from my infertility specialist that I couldn't get pregnant without intervention. In my early 20's, it meant I didn't have to be on those maddening birth control pills any longer and didn't have to freak out every time I skipped a period when I was using condoms instead. I found infertility incredibly freeing, but I recognize that there are thousands of women who find it agonizing.

That isn't to say that there haven't been times that I was sad I couldn't have kids. I just might have gotten married in my mid-20's if the man I was with hadn't wanted a large family. Parting ways was difficult for both of us, but now he has the children he wanted and to this day we're still very good friends. And as recently as a year ago I was sad because M was sad that choosing me meant no children for him. I suppose I could look at this and consider myself lucky that I got pregnant by accident, instead of going through months (even years) of fertility treatments.

So when I can't sleep at night, or when I want to cry because I'm exhausted half way through trying to accomplish something, or when I'm peeved I won't be able to make that awesome event this summer because I'll be wearing a newborn, I'll try to remember that I'm blessed.

I'm blessed. How strange for me to think of being pregnant as a blessing, but a good way of thinking, too. Life's weird ;)

Have infant, will I travel?

I find myself wondering how much having a child will impact my enjoyment of traveling. 

Three years ago I was on holiday in Japan with M. It was a great vacation, timed perfectly with the cherry blossoms. I particularly loved Kyoto. We stayed at the Hiiragiya Ryokan (Japanese guesthouse) and explored Kyoto, Himeji, and Nara from our base there. I call myself a wordsmith but I find it difficult to put into words what it is to experience Japan in the Spring. Fortunately for me, every time I look out my windows and see the cherry, peach, or plum trees in bloom, memories rise, making me smile.

Six months ago we were vacationing in Bali. What a slice of paradise that island is! The sights, the scents, the ever-present ocean, the food, and of course, the people. We spent the majority of our time on the eastern coast of Bali, at a lovely little resort called Puri Bagus Candidasa. Expense-wise Bali is a very reasonable place to vacation -- it's the 20+ hours of travel time that are daunting.

Birthdays in Monterey and Calistoga. Weekends in Vegas and Santa Barbara. For much of my adult life I've been able to just take off and go somewhere -- anywhere -- at a moment's notice. Even as recently as a year ago it was not uncommon for me to hop into a car at midnight and drive three hours to spend a few days with friends or family. I'm notorious for my spontaneity.

And now I'm 7 months along in an unexpected pregnancy.

I planned to drive south to spend some time with my parents next week, but it is a trip of over 200 miles, and M reminded me that I can't even sit for an hour without getting cramps somewhere, and much of the drive is through a very sparsely populated part of California, so if anything happened... I felt a small flash of irritation, but had to admit his objections were valid.

Road trips and long flights, I fear, are going to be a thing of the past. At least for a while.

In December we intend to go to Canada to see M's family. I expect that will be our first major travel-related undertaking. The baby will be nearly 7 months by then. I dread being that couple everyone hates for bringing a screaming baby on a long flight. I'm hoping that eventually we'll get air-travel with a child down to a fine art. It would be wonderful to be able to share our love of travel with our son.

Mothering

I hobbled through life for many years as an emotional cripple. I loved with everything I was capable of, and sometimes it was enough. And sometimes it was not. But in those days, it was the best I could do. And in those days, I was aware of my emotional disability, and I was grateful that I could not have children.

In my early 30's everything changed. I wanted to grow. I wanted to become more fully me. I just didn't know how. Well, that isn't quite right. I knew that in order to effect meaningful change in my life, I needed to develop new, adult coping mechanisms. I just didn't know how to do that. I looked to the people in my life to learn how and made a very poor choice, landing myself in a same-sex relationship with a friend-turned-lover that was both physically and emotionally abusive.

And within months for embarking on that relationship, people I loved started dying. Four people in two years: my grandmother, my mother, my mother-figure, and a good friend. I went from an emotional cripple to an emotional quadraplegic. I couldn't cope. I understood the grieving process intellectually, but didn't know how to walk the path. Paralyzed, I huddled in on myself for a couple of years waiting for something, anything to change. And then it did. The woman I was involved with finally realized what I'd known after 6 months into our relationship, and broke things off.

Within two months I was in therapy. Something in me found the resolve to seek professional help. I wanted to understand myself, understand why I'd chosen an abusive relationship with a woman when I'd never tolerated anything of the sort from a man. And I wanted those adult coping mechanisms, damnit!

Therapy was the hardest thing I've ever done. It was 18 months of shoveling shit out of the barn in my head. Many times I wanted to quit, but I didn't, because I knew that if I stopped, I'd never start up again. It was just that painful.

But oh so worth it.

When I went in to my first appointment I told my therapist that I wanted help developing new coping mechanisms for today and tomorrow, and that I didn't want to revisit things deep in the past. I was very adamant about that. I was also very wrong.

In order to develop adult coping mechanisms, I needed to recognize the genesis of the ones that weren't working for me. And in order to determine why I'd chosen to remain in an abusive relationship with a woman, I needed to understand my relationship with my mother and how it shaped me, emotionally.

For years I'd blamed my being an emotional cripple on my father, a Viet Nam Vet whom I'd never liked even as a toddler, and who was physically, mentally and emotionally abusive all through my childhood. And while, certainly, his style of "fathering" was damaging, it was my mother's "mothering" skills, or lack thereof, which shaped my emotional landscape.

My mother was adopted. It's something she never got over, that very fundamental abandonment, and the onotological angst (Who am I? Why am I?) haunted her. She was herself an emotional cripple. She wanted closeness but feared it. She pulled with one hand and pushed with the other. She married to get away from her evangelical parents, and children were an accidental by-product of that choice. She didn't want children, and she didn't want motherhood. She hated keeping house and by the time I was five I was doing dishes and laundry, dressing my younger sisters, changing diapers, etc. I feared her temper. I kicked her once and she told me if I did it again, she'd break my leg. I believed her. She actually chased after me with a bullwhip once. When I was injured, I was afraid to go to her for care, because she was so impersonal and rough. But she had a wonderful voice and she told good stories and sometimes she was warm and loving. My best memories are of her playing with my hair.

She and my father fought, often violently, and after really bad fights one of them would disappear for a few days. But one day -- one day she went away and didn't come back.

And that was what crippled me.

See, children don't understand the world, but as children, we do try, and we make the best sense of it we can. In the absence of explanations that make sense to us, we connect the dots and come to our own conclusions. We make up our own meanings, our own stories, and we live inside them.

From a child's perspective, a mother is someone who loves you always, no matter what, and will always be there. From a child's perspective, when Mommy leaves you, it's because there is something wrong with you. When my mother left, my sisters and I made it mean that we were unlovable and unworthy -- that there was something wrong with us, something so wrong that even Mommy couldn't stand to be our mother. We internalized it and forgot the story we'd made up. We lived it.

And I took up the mantle of mothering. I thought that it was my fault that my sisters didn't have a mother anymore, so I took it on, as best I could. As best as any nine-year-old could. My father re-married and I took on my step-sisters, too, since their mother, like my father, was all too eager to offload parenting responsibilities so they could go play.

I became an enabler, a rescuer, a fixer. I became controlling and manipulative.  I craved peace and harmony, and to my young eyes, the familiar, the status quo, was the closest I could come to that.  I developed skills and coping mechanisms designed to perpetuate those conditions. It was a comfortable, if miserable existence. In therapy, I learned to call it what it was, neurosis. Jung said that neurosis is "the suffering of the soul which has not discovered its meaning" and that pretty much says it all.

So in the course of therapy, I discovered the story I'd made up about the little girl who was unworthy of her mother's love, and I learned to comfort my inner child and nurture her (instead of everyone else). I let go of my strangle-hold on my old ways of being and opened up to learning new tools and ways of being. I worked out my mommy-issues and my daddy-issues and took ownership of my life, my relationships, my emotions, thoughts, and attitudes. I fully inhabit me.

I'm emotionally and psychologically adult now. I am capable of loving and being loved without building barriers to protect myself from fears of loss and abandonment. I've buried three more family members in as many years and come through those experiences feeling enriched, and at times, transformed.

My biggest challenge so far has been dealing with my youngest sister, whose mental illness and refusal to accept the help and care she needs had challenged the limits of my ability to cope. Today she's in an institutional setting, the enforced structure of which seems to be giving her the basis she needs to examine and rebuild her life.

I'm facing a new challenge soon, the challenge of mothering my son, and I feel confident that I am up to it.  Finally, at 44, I think I'm grown-up enough to be a good parent, to raise a child without fear of perpetuating the emotional and psychological issues that have plagued my family. And what a tremendous feeling it is!

5 reasons why we shouldn't pass legislation to protect people from sinning

These are the top 5 reasons I can think of as to why we should not pass legislation to protect people from sinning:

1) What is "sin" is subjective.  Depending on your religious or cultural background, one person's sin is another person's divine mandate. When trying to legislate against what one group considers a sin, it is very likely that you're interfering with another person's religious and/or civil liberties.

  

2) People who believe something is a sin still commit those sins. Some say it is a matter of degrees -- of whether something is a mortal, moral, priestly, venial or civil sin -- that determines whether they choose to "sin" or not. When you introduce shades of gray and give yourself permission to determine for yourself what sins you will and will not commit, it is hypocritical to then enforce your interpretations on others.

3) It makes for Big Brother Government. Laws that regulate what people can and cannot do with their bodies because it is "sinful" effectively puts the Government in your homes, your bedrooms, your doctor's office, lawyer's office, and in some cases, in your daughter's / wife's / mother's vagina.  It gives government the power to take subjective grey areas and render them into black-and-white absolutes. It gives the government the authority to interfere with your civil liberties under the grounds of "protecting you from yourself."

4) In what ways is all this anti-sin / anti-sexual / anti-woman legislation put forward by Evangelicals any different from the Taliban and Sharia law? I understand that the Evangelicals and the Taliban are trying to preserve their beliefs and ways of life -- but they're doing so at the cost of women's control over their own lives, bodies, mental health, etc.

5) If God gave Mankind the power to choose to sin or not to sin, who are we to interfere with God's Will?  According to Scripture, God knew that Adam and Eve would misuse their power to choose. Yet God chose to give them that power, creating them "sufficient to have stood, though free to fall." If God is the ultimate authority, then why are Evangelicals undermining that authority by trying to strip others of their God-given right to self-determination?

 

Years ago, in my High School Civics class, my instructor said something that has stuck with me: "The best measure of a law is the possible abuse of that law." He went on to explain that people propose laws with the best intentions in mind, but rarely consider the possible undesirable outcomes when those laws are used in unintended ways.  

It is with that in mind that I opposed the Patriot Act and the expansion and renewal of that Act. Privacy and civil liberties have been eroded in order to save us from "terrorism." It is also with that in mind that I oppose all of the legislation out there that erodes women's rights to self-determination under the auspices of saving them from the "sin" of abortion.

The trans-vaginal ultrasound bills that have been circulated and passed and the Legislator's "just close your eyes" response fails to address the invasiveness of the ultrasound wand. A woman can't "just close her legs" when a technician tries to put the wand up her vagina -- not if she wants an abortion, anyway.  We're giving government the authority to force women to submit to procedures they don't want under the auspices of preventing her from committing the "sin" of abortion.  Not so long ago government had the authority to sterilize the mentally retarded and people in mental institutions because people thought it was wrong for them to reproduce and because they didn't want to deal with the reality of the sexual abuse that went on in those institutions which the pregnancies were evidence of. In just the same way, elements of our society are trying to prevent abortions from occurring while refusing to address the ugly societal realities of why women are wanting abortions in the first place.

And this legislation that gives doctors immunity from lawsuits if they lie to women about medical conditions that might result in a woman choosing to terminate the pregnancy sets a dangerous precedent. What next?  It's ok for a doctor to lie to a patient's family if it prevents them following through with Grandma's medical directive to pull the plug on life support? It's ok for lawyers to lie to clients about the instructions in a living will or medical directive they just drafted regarding life support? 

This is a slippery slope we really don't want to go down.

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

Weight management during pregnancy

Late in the week I really started to feel pregnant. I can feel the rounded hardness of my uterus, see it protruding a bit (though not past my breasts), and notice that it's starting to affect the way I walk.  I can't stabilize my torso/core using my abdominal muscles the way I normally do, so I'm holding my back and shoulders differently, and trying not to do the side-to-side waddle. At least, not yet.

Oh, and I feel really bloated. When I went in to see the obstetrician Friday I thought for sure she'd tell me I'd gained 10 pounds this month, that is how bloated I feel. But I've actually dropped two pounds. I'm about a 1/2 pound from my weight prior to going to Bali in October, and on target for a zero to 10 lbs net weight gain for my pregnancy.

Some people are really bothered that I'm trying not to gain any weight during this pregnancy, especially my friends and family who are nurses. They're worried I'm letting vanity get in the way of a healthy baby. It's not about vanity though, it's about having a healthy pregnancy. I worked really hard last year to lose weight and I dropped over 40 pounds. I could stand to lose 40 more -- in fact, that was my goal for 2012, before I found out I was pregnant in mid-December. I don't want to regain that weight and then have to lose it all over again, and I know that in my 40's the extra weight (and the extra calories and carbohydrates that cause the extra weight) can cause complications (such as gestational diabetes) that I'm desperate to avoid.

So I'm working with my obstetrician and my perinatologist and a dietician and a medical nutritionist to make sure I'm meeting my nutritional needs. I'm getting growth ultrasounds to make sure the baby is the right size for his age. I'm getting monthly blood and urine tests. I'm doing everything I can to make sure we're having a healthy baby -- I'm even avoiding 'diet' products that contain artificial sweeteners because of the metabolic byproducts. (For more on the subject of artificial sweeteners, see the last half of this Unintentional Mother post.)

I've also got the weight-maintenance tools I've picked up the past few years. I've learned how to handle cravings, for example. I know when to re-direct and when to relent. I know when to stop indulging (most of the time) and I know when to get rid of something tasty because I can't resist the temptation to keep indulging.

I think a lot of women gain 30+ pounds during pregnancy because they aren't in the habit of fighting cravings, and helpless under the hormonal and hunger-pang onslaught, they indulge, and indulge, and indulge. And that's ok. My sisters gained 50+ pounds with their first pregnancies. They lost it all, eventually, but one of them developed toxemia in all three of her pregnancies. They were also 20 years younger than I am now -- and I can't afford to wallow in a pint of ice cream a day, as tempting as that sounds ;)

I fully expect to put on some weight in my last trimester (which begins in a couple of weeks) because that is when the baby starts building subcutaneous fat and putting on his weight. But I'm doing everything I can to keep it under 10 pounds. For both the baby and me.

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.

Letter #1 to my unborn son

Dear Baby Boy,

In this, our 23rd week together, you are making your presence known, even though I am not obviously pregnant-looking yet. I can feel you moving around, though at this point I can't tell if you are contra-dancing or taiko drumming -- it feels like both sometimes.

It seems like you are going to have your father's sweet-tooth, based on all the sweets-related cravings I'm experiencing right now.  In the interests of keeping both of us healthy, however, I'm doing my best to resist. I want to keep my weight and blood-sugar levels down so there's no gestational diabetes or toxemia -- so help me out here and crave chopped salads again, ok?

Gifts from the baby registry have already started arriving. In less than four months you'll be wearing some of these things. They look so tiny, these clothes, which makes the thought of giving birth to you a little less scary, but also makes me fear my natural clumsiness, which is in full-force these days. Babies don't bounce when dropped ;)

I'm avoiding chemicals as much as I can, eating organic as much as I can afford. No artificial sweeteners, no foods nuked in plastic containers, no drinks from plastic bottles. The geneticist and biochemist in me is wary of the possible effects of man-made chemicals on you. Your father has taken over the chemical-related yard duties and even some of the cleaning, too.

Soon we'll start setting up the nursery-zone in my bedroom. I know it seems a bit late in the game to some people, but I've only known you were coming for about 6 weeks now. I want to keep you near for at least the first year, so it will be a while before you get a room of your own.

Love,
Mama

PS: Thanks for letting me sleep through the night last night.

Did a wish get me pregnant?

I've loved several people in my life, deeply, with passion and tenderness. I've been in love just once.

I'm still in love. It's an incredible thing to be so open and vulnerable, to love with so few reservations or fears, and to experience for myself the biochemical effects of being emotionally, mentally, and physically all-in with another person.

How could I get pregnant when my infertility was actively demonstrated year after year for two decades? I think it has something to do with the effects of being in love and the power of a wish. For me, anyway. M thinks my theory is a bit silly, but his areas of expertise are mathematics, software development, and computer science. Mine are genetics, biochemistry, and loving.

The more religious members of my family believe that the child is a blessing from G-d, like the son of Abraham and Sarah. I'm not one to believe in divine intervention in the affairs of man, but as a nod to their conviction, perhaps we should name the baby Isaac :)

My doctor says it probably has something to do with the 40# I dropped in 2011. And that could be. Weight loss affects everything from metabolism, to hormone levels, to psychological well-being. But I'm still heavier now than I was in the 1990s, and my partner during those years was quite virile and I swear that we had unprotected sex at least 3000 times in the 6 or 7 years we were together. So while my sudden fertility could be attributed to changes in weight causing changes in my endocrine system, I don't think that's the whole story.

There is a lot of research out there about the biological and biochemical basis of love, and the measurable changes in neurochemistry, hormones, and cellular structure that feeling "love" can produce.  I know that for the first time in my life I've felt content with settling down with a specific someone. Not just comfortable or it's cousin complacent, but truly content.

Of the two other men I've been involved with long-term, only one of them I could see myself growing old with, and we were very comfortable together. If we'd been more developed as people and in our communication, we'd probably still be together. But with M there aren't any ifs. We communicate incredibly well. We really get each other. We talk about unmet needs and expectations and ways to fulfill them, including reaching out to others as needed. When we're experiencing our quiet, connected moments the cats come sit nearby and purr, like they just want to be inside that sphere of happiness and well-being. D and I had something similar, but the depth of intimacy with M, and the feeling of harmony and peace, are beyond my prior experience. Being with M makes me feel bone-deep happy and giddy with love.

I'm also a believer in the power of wishing. People often say to be careful what you wish for because it might come true. Wishing or praying or meditating -- focusing the thoughts and the mind intently on something -- is incredibly powerful. From practicing hypnosis I know that the unconscious mind can do amazing things, from creating illness to healing it -- and everything inbetween. I've wished things away and wished things into being and even converted some doubters into believers over the years. And I can't help thinking that a wish made me pregnant.

Back in June or July 2011 M was in a bit of a funk. He seemed sad. I asked him what was up with him and he finally told me: He was doing well financially, he'd bought a home with extra rooms, and at his age (34) he couldn't help but feel like he should be starting a family soon. Choosing me meant being childless for as long as we are together and he didn't want to consider life without me, so he wasn't going to be a father -- and that made him (understandably) sad.

I felt sad, too. Very sad. His happiness is vital to my own, and I have offered numerous times over the years to help him find someone else to love and make babies with. I offered again, and again he said no, so I told him that for the first time in my life I could actually see myself raising a child. I wished aloud, with power and conviction, that I could have a baby with him. I offered to contact my younger cousin to be an egg donor so we could --  but if he wanted to do that, it would need to happen in the next year or so, because the older I get the harder pregnancy would be on my body.  He thought about it for a moment and said "Let's talk about it next year, once the work on the house is done and the start-up thing is settled and life is less stressful."

I made that wish and even contacted my cousin, who expressed an enthusiastic willingness to be an egg donor if I needed one. And then I tabled it for revisiting sometime in 2012. I didn't think about it again until I realized I was pregnant.

And thinking about it, however bizarre it seems, I can't help but think that of all the possible factors in my getting pregnant, the greatest of these was the power of a wish made out of love for M.

Introducing a new blog on unintentional parenthood and pregnancy at 40-something

I'm not sure where to start, so I'll just write. I usually arrive somewhere that way.

I've been journaling since I was 10, and blogging off and on since 2004. I find that writing about internal turmoil gives me clarity, and I really need clarity.

I'm struggling with an issue as old as mankind: pregnancy and motherhood. But as always, there are a few twists: this is an unplanned first-time pregnancy. In my Forties. And the father is several years younger than me.

Over the years, I've learned that hearing about the experiences of others gives me perspective on my own life. And visa versa. So I've decided to start a blog about this new journey I'm on, beginning with posting entries from my personal journal to a public forum. I hope that others find clarity, comfort, and commonality in my attempts to discover these same things for myself.

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.

Decisions made, decisions delayed

Since this pregnancy is entirely unplanned, and given that M and I have operated for the past 6 years under the assumption that accidental pregnancy was impossible and that I'm not the get-married-make-babies type anyway, it was necessary that we have a serious talk.

I told him that, after some thought, and after seeing the reality of the baby on the ultrasound screen, I wanted to proceed with the pregnancy -- but only if it is healthy.  I also told him that if I have a choice as to whether or not to terminate the pregnancy, so does he. I don't want to be a single-parent, and if he's not on-board, I'm considerably less eager to have the baby. I don't want him to feel trapped into parenthood. I'd never want to force that on anyone. There are enough unwanted children in the world already...

He said that if I wanted to have the baby then he was inclined to agree, provided that the fetus doesn't have any birth defects like Down's Syndrome. He has an uncle who developed mental retardation due to environmental factors in early childhood, and though he loves his uncle, he has difficulty relating to an adult child, and so he can't imagine bringing a child into the world with that sort of disability if it can be prevented beforehand. In choosing to have a child with a serious disability, parents aren't just choosing to take on the added burden for themselves, they are choosing it for their family members as well. The child, he knows from personal experience, becomes a responsibility for entire family to care for -- not just the parents. Now that his grandmother is incapacitated with Alzheimer's, his uncle has moved in with his mother after failed attempts to place him with assisted living and foster families -- a move that has altered her life and that of her family in very fundamental ways.

I'm no Sarah Palin, and I certainly don't have her financial resources. I'm not up to raising a Down's baby.  The lifestyle changes I'm going to have to make will be difficult enough as it is. I've scheduled a genetic counseling appointment and then on January 3rd an amniocentesis test. We've agreed that if the tests all come back clear, we're having a baby.

It is good to have agreed on something, but it also leaves us hanging for a few more weeks. It takes 10 to 14 days for the cells from the amniotic fluid to be cultured and grown and for the genetic test results to come back.