So, two months in, the mom-thing is working out quite well. M said
when he thought about whether or not to proceed with the pregnancy, one
of the things he considered was whether or not he thought I would be a
good mother. I'm a nurturing person, and given that I practically raised
my sisters and half of my cousins, M knew the answer. Still, he seems
surprised by how good I am with the baby. To be honest, there are times
when I'm surprised, too. There is so much about mothering that is
innate, I've come to realize, probably on a racial-memory level, because
it's not like I've trained for this. I just know what to do for Little
Man.
I miss sleeping. It's been six months since I had a
good night's sleep. M tries to help with the baby so I can nap, but
often as not, Little Man gets agitated when we're separated for a while
and I end up comforting him rather than sleeping. He's an easy baby, for
the most part, but he's an alert and fidgety baby. When he's awake,
often as not he wants to be in motion, and I don't mean sitting in a
swing. I mean sitting in a baby sling while I move him around :) It gets
tiring, wearing him all the time, but I'm sure that it will seem like a
blink of an eye and he'll be zipping around in his little walker. But
for now, I'm learning how to do all sorts of things while wearing him in
front--like installing metal weather-stripping on an exterior door
while Little Man made curious expressions at the sound of the drill, and
putting up a tent single-handedly.
Today we're having friends and neighbors come by to harvest
peaches off our tree and meet the baby. All the work we've done to the
exterior of the house the past 6 months have really paid off -- we've
got a lovely, comfortable outdoor space that I spend a fair amount of
time in, and will probably spend a lot more time in as Little Man grows
up. And we've got seating for 14 adults, which is nice for entertaining,
I hope. This will be our first gathering since I learned I was
pregnant.
To go with the peach theme I've made a jello mould with peaches
fresh from our tree, and some panna cotta poured into individual cups
for people to have with fresh fruit. No cheesecake this time. The baby
only naps for 15-20 minutes at a time and I can't mix the batter while
wearing him -- too much chance of disaster :)
M's mother will be arriving mid-week. I'm hoping it will be a
good visit. I really enjoying meeting his aunts and uncles a couple of
weeks ago. They said that M and I make a good team. I think so, too.
Showing posts with label younger partner. Show all posts
Showing posts with label younger partner. Show all posts
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Monday, July 2, 2012
One Month Old
Little Man has been with us a month now, and wow, what a month!
It's amazing how quickly M and I have adapted our lives to the extreme changes that come with having a baby around 24/7. And amazing how much we haven't had to change.
Dining out, for now anyway, is still feasible. So is going to the movies. Sleep has become a luxury, though I know I'm getting more than a lot of new parents do. Little Man sleeps for a 4 hour stretch most nights. Keeping up with the house-work is a little more challenging, especially while M is home on paternity leave. Let's just say that he is getting a LOT more sleep than I am, often until nearly noon, and as a courtesy I avoid doing things like running the vacuum and other appliances until he is awake. At which point the noise bothers him. Ah well. A couple more weeks and he'll be back at work. And then all the family on his side will be coming to visit.
I'm finding that there are conveniences to bottle-feeding Little Man, but for the most part, I'm trying not to regret giving him the bottle, since he no longer wants to latch on to my breast. Too much work to get that milk, I think. I'm pumping about 30 ounces of milk a day and he's drinking nearly all of it, the little glutton. He's gained two pounds his first month of life, so he's less wrinkled. His cheeks are looking chubby and his thighs are filling-out, but he does not yet exhibit the rolls of fat that are characteristic of breast-fed babies.
He's less of a baby-blob than I thought he'd be. Past experiences with other infants lead me to believe that he'd mostly sleep when he wasn't eating, but Little Man is often alert and active for hours at a time. He surprised me on our first night with his ability to lift his head and shoulders, and as each day goes by, he gets stronger and stronger. He uses his hands to grip my clothes and uses his little legs to push himself as he climbs up my torso to reposition himself. Sometimes he likes being low on my belly, while at others, he wants to rest his forehead against my collarbone. He's also learning to mimic facial expressions. M has taught him how to stick out his tongue and make fish-lips. He's also starting to smile more and make noises, starting to experiment with his voice.
He's often enraptured by his father. M has a wonderful voice, and Little Man will turn to look at him, his eyes wide. M often unbuttons his shirts and puts the baby on his chest, especially when Little Man is being fussy and nothing I do settles him down. It's a heart-warming picture -- father and son enjoying a skin-on-skin interlude.
My body is mostly back to normal. The swelling in my feet is gone, and the tingling in my fingers, as well. The bulk of the bleeding stopped around day 20, and the lochia has been very light since then, though I've noticed a little bit of spotting again, the past couple of days. I've been walking a mile+ most days, some of them pushing Little Man in his pram, others wearing him in the Baby Bjorn. After half a mile of carrying him, it's definitely more of a workout. I've resumed most of my normal activities with the exception of heavy-lifting and other forms of exercise that put strain on the abdominal area. I don't want any hernias or other complications from over-exerting. So painting and power tools and gardening, yes, but no resistance-band training yet.
Motherhood seems to agree with me. My neighbors have commented that I seem to have un-aged a decade or two. Looking in the mirror, I do notice that something is different. I'm 44 and I have no wrinkles. Very little gray hair. My skin looks great (must be all that coco butter cream I'm slathering on after I shower) and the odd blemishes that appeared during pregnancy have completely cleared up. Breastfeeding is taking a fair amount of weight off of me, so much in fact that I'm meeting with a dietician/nutritionist today to see what I can do about that. I don't mind dropping a pound a week, but 4 pounds a week is just too fast, and I'm worried about endangering my milk supply. As it is, I've pulled sorted through the bin of 'someday' clothes in my closet, only to realize that I've dropped two to three dress sizes since last summer and there is very little that fits properly. Washing everything in hot water and drying on high has helped shrink some stuff up, and while I can still wear a lot of my shirts with my breasts ballooned to DD/F territory, even the smallest skirts and pants in my closet hang down around my hips. I suppose I'm going to have to bite the bullet and do some clothes shopping some day soon. Grr. I hate shopping.
I admit to being a bit tired, and on the rare night that Little Man is fussy, I struggle under the pall of exhaustion and irritability. I've awakened M a couple of times and handed the baby over to him when I'm at wit's end, though I try not to. M functions on 8 hours of sleep but needs 10. Less than 10 hours, or interrupted sleep, and he ends up with a headache all day, so I take care of the baby every night. M often takes over when he gets up, so I can nap for a few hours. I am already longing for the day that Little Man can speak his needs so it is easier to meet them.
Little Man is adorable when he's sleeping, and when he snuggles up against me and his breath puffs against my skin, all is right in the world. Everything slows down. Time simultaneously stops and flies. My world narrows down to the confines of our home and the peace and love that exists within it. And I think that is as it should be. Yes. It is as it should be.
It's amazing how quickly M and I have adapted our lives to the extreme changes that come with having a baby around 24/7. And amazing how much we haven't had to change.
Dining out, for now anyway, is still feasible. So is going to the movies. Sleep has become a luxury, though I know I'm getting more than a lot of new parents do. Little Man sleeps for a 4 hour stretch most nights. Keeping up with the house-work is a little more challenging, especially while M is home on paternity leave. Let's just say that he is getting a LOT more sleep than I am, often until nearly noon, and as a courtesy I avoid doing things like running the vacuum and other appliances until he is awake. At which point the noise bothers him. Ah well. A couple more weeks and he'll be back at work. And then all the family on his side will be coming to visit.
I'm finding that there are conveniences to bottle-feeding Little Man, but for the most part, I'm trying not to regret giving him the bottle, since he no longer wants to latch on to my breast. Too much work to get that milk, I think. I'm pumping about 30 ounces of milk a day and he's drinking nearly all of it, the little glutton. He's gained two pounds his first month of life, so he's less wrinkled. His cheeks are looking chubby and his thighs are filling-out, but he does not yet exhibit the rolls of fat that are characteristic of breast-fed babies.
He's less of a baby-blob than I thought he'd be. Past experiences with other infants lead me to believe that he'd mostly sleep when he wasn't eating, but Little Man is often alert and active for hours at a time. He surprised me on our first night with his ability to lift his head and shoulders, and as each day goes by, he gets stronger and stronger. He uses his hands to grip my clothes and uses his little legs to push himself as he climbs up my torso to reposition himself. Sometimes he likes being low on my belly, while at others, he wants to rest his forehead against my collarbone. He's also learning to mimic facial expressions. M has taught him how to stick out his tongue and make fish-lips. He's also starting to smile more and make noises, starting to experiment with his voice.
He's often enraptured by his father. M has a wonderful voice, and Little Man will turn to look at him, his eyes wide. M often unbuttons his shirts and puts the baby on his chest, especially when Little Man is being fussy and nothing I do settles him down. It's a heart-warming picture -- father and son enjoying a skin-on-skin interlude.
My body is mostly back to normal. The swelling in my feet is gone, and the tingling in my fingers, as well. The bulk of the bleeding stopped around day 20, and the lochia has been very light since then, though I've noticed a little bit of spotting again, the past couple of days. I've been walking a mile+ most days, some of them pushing Little Man in his pram, others wearing him in the Baby Bjorn. After half a mile of carrying him, it's definitely more of a workout. I've resumed most of my normal activities with the exception of heavy-lifting and other forms of exercise that put strain on the abdominal area. I don't want any hernias or other complications from over-exerting. So painting and power tools and gardening, yes, but no resistance-band training yet.
Motherhood seems to agree with me. My neighbors have commented that I seem to have un-aged a decade or two. Looking in the mirror, I do notice that something is different. I'm 44 and I have no wrinkles. Very little gray hair. My skin looks great (must be all that coco butter cream I'm slathering on after I shower) and the odd blemishes that appeared during pregnancy have completely cleared up. Breastfeeding is taking a fair amount of weight off of me, so much in fact that I'm meeting with a dietician/nutritionist today to see what I can do about that. I don't mind dropping a pound a week, but 4 pounds a week is just too fast, and I'm worried about endangering my milk supply. As it is, I've pulled sorted through the bin of 'someday' clothes in my closet, only to realize that I've dropped two to three dress sizes since last summer and there is very little that fits properly. Washing everything in hot water and drying on high has helped shrink some stuff up, and while I can still wear a lot of my shirts with my breasts ballooned to DD/F territory, even the smallest skirts and pants in my closet hang down around my hips. I suppose I'm going to have to bite the bullet and do some clothes shopping some day soon. Grr. I hate shopping.
I admit to being a bit tired, and on the rare night that Little Man is fussy, I struggle under the pall of exhaustion and irritability. I've awakened M a couple of times and handed the baby over to him when I'm at wit's end, though I try not to. M functions on 8 hours of sleep but needs 10. Less than 10 hours, or interrupted sleep, and he ends up with a headache all day, so I take care of the baby every night. M often takes over when he gets up, so I can nap for a few hours. I am already longing for the day that Little Man can speak his needs so it is easier to meet them.
Little Man is adorable when he's sleeping, and when he snuggles up against me and his breath puffs against my skin, all is right in the world. Everything slows down. Time simultaneously stops and flies. My world narrows down to the confines of our home and the peace and love that exists within it. And I think that is as it should be. Yes. It is as it should be.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Wading for the good baby
I feel like I'm living at a very high altitude these days. High altitude, or under water. All movement seems to require so much effort, and I feel the need to take great gulps of air -- only I don't have room to expand my lungs. The baby keeps kicking me in the diaphragm, which isn't helping. Sunday afternoon I was laying on my back, vise grips in hand, trying to tighten a bolt on the new Toto toilet that arrived this weekend, and the baby kept kicking my diaphragm, making me cough, which in turn worried my partner. Yes, I'm 37 weeks pregnant, but I'm the handy type, and I'm not good at laying around watching someone else sweat. I insist on helping, and M is gracious enough to wait for me while I move around like I'm wading through water. The only thing I seem to do quickly these days is void my bladder and refill it.
Anyway, the Toto toilet and washlet is installed now, and it's a real treat to use, but the tools are still laying about. It makes me a bit nuts, probably because my father was incredibly anal about his tools, and I used to get my butt kicked if tools weren't cleaned and put away where they belonged. I just didn't have the energy to put them away today, and M probably didn't either. Not to mention that he just sort of puts things on the gorilla shelves in the garage wherever they'll fit, instead of where they were when he grabbed them. He just doesn't have the motor-memory of where he got them from, even when he gets instructions from me as to where to find them. However, when I handle a thing, I can remember both the place I found it, and the last place I saw it. He doesn't have that talent, and relies on me to tell him where he left things. He usually asks before he starts searching, just on the off chance my mind has noted an object's whereabouts. I'm hoping this doesn't happen with the baby or poopy diapers or we're in trouble ;)
I'm losing a couple of pounds a week these days. I just can't seem to take in enough calories to meet the baby's needs and my own. I just don't have the room in my stomach right now. I've stocked the fridge with sopressata and genoa salami and sliced cheeses for quick calories, along with sugar snap peas and baby carrots. I also picked up some Healthy Choice fudge bars to complement the frozen yogurt bars I've been sucking on when my tummy is unhappy with me. When all else fails, it's protein drinks and bars. I'm getting sick more now than I did in the first trimester. I suppose I shouldn't whine about it too much. There are lots of women who end up with gestational diabetes and have to be very careful a bout what they eat. Luckily, my blood sugar has been in the 70s and 80s.
My Group B Strep test came back negative, so no need to run prophylactic antibiotics in the delivery room. I wasn't sure what to expect for the test results -- after my bout with septicemia and the mega-doses of state of the art IV antibiotics I received for 6 weeks, I expect whatever bacterial colonies I've got now are highly resistant to conventional treatment. A few months ago an area of skin infection had to be excised because antibiotics weren't clearing it up. Fortunately, the healthy tissue healed up very quickly.
I find myself wondering what the baby is going to look like. I'm hoping he has his father's brown eyes. Mine are brown, as well, but there is something about his eyes... I'd love to look into our child's face and see his father's eyes. Of course, both of us having brown eyes doesn't guarantee that the baby will be brown-eyed. Eye color has multi-genic heritability, and we've both got blue eyes in the family -- and green on my side, as well. My big hopes are that he gets his father's nose and metabolism instead of mine. M hopes that the baby gets the tall genes that run on my father's side of the family.
Being pregnant when it is hot really sucks. I'm having difficulty staying hydrated when I'm out and about at all the prenatal appointments, shopping for groceries, and picking up the last bits of things I need for the baby's arrival. The heat also makes it difficult to muster interest in food, which impacts my energy level. Thankfully the house has stayed cool even without the A/C on. It's 85F outside and 72F inside.
I think I'm going to lay down for a nap. I woke up wildly hungry at 3am this morning, and again at 6:00am with the birds.I'm starting to keep breastfeeding hours, I think :)
Anyway, the Toto toilet and washlet is installed now, and it's a real treat to use, but the tools are still laying about. It makes me a bit nuts, probably because my father was incredibly anal about his tools, and I used to get my butt kicked if tools weren't cleaned and put away where they belonged. I just didn't have the energy to put them away today, and M probably didn't either. Not to mention that he just sort of puts things on the gorilla shelves in the garage wherever they'll fit, instead of where they were when he grabbed them. He just doesn't have the motor-memory of where he got them from, even when he gets instructions from me as to where to find them. However, when I handle a thing, I can remember both the place I found it, and the last place I saw it. He doesn't have that talent, and relies on me to tell him where he left things. He usually asks before he starts searching, just on the off chance my mind has noted an object's whereabouts. I'm hoping this doesn't happen with the baby or poopy diapers or we're in trouble ;)
I'm losing a couple of pounds a week these days. I just can't seem to take in enough calories to meet the baby's needs and my own. I just don't have the room in my stomach right now. I've stocked the fridge with sopressata and genoa salami and sliced cheeses for quick calories, along with sugar snap peas and baby carrots. I also picked up some Healthy Choice fudge bars to complement the frozen yogurt bars I've been sucking on when my tummy is unhappy with me. When all else fails, it's protein drinks and bars. I'm getting sick more now than I did in the first trimester. I suppose I shouldn't whine about it too much. There are lots of women who end up with gestational diabetes and have to be very careful a bout what they eat. Luckily, my blood sugar has been in the 70s and 80s.
My Group B Strep test came back negative, so no need to run prophylactic antibiotics in the delivery room. I wasn't sure what to expect for the test results -- after my bout with septicemia and the mega-doses of state of the art IV antibiotics I received for 6 weeks, I expect whatever bacterial colonies I've got now are highly resistant to conventional treatment. A few months ago an area of skin infection had to be excised because antibiotics weren't clearing it up. Fortunately, the healthy tissue healed up very quickly.
I find myself wondering what the baby is going to look like. I'm hoping he has his father's brown eyes. Mine are brown, as well, but there is something about his eyes... I'd love to look into our child's face and see his father's eyes. Of course, both of us having brown eyes doesn't guarantee that the baby will be brown-eyed. Eye color has multi-genic heritability, and we've both got blue eyes in the family -- and green on my side, as well. My big hopes are that he gets his father's nose and metabolism instead of mine. M hopes that the baby gets the tall genes that run on my father's side of the family.
Being pregnant when it is hot really sucks. I'm having difficulty staying hydrated when I'm out and about at all the prenatal appointments, shopping for groceries, and picking up the last bits of things I need for the baby's arrival. The heat also makes it difficult to muster interest in food, which impacts my energy level. Thankfully the house has stayed cool even without the A/C on. It's 85F outside and 72F inside.
I think I'm going to lay down for a nap. I woke up wildly hungry at 3am this morning, and again at 6:00am with the birds.I'm starting to keep breastfeeding hours, I think :)
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Two weeks until Delivery Day
We have a completely new HVAC system for the house as of Thursday. Boy does it raise and lower ambient temperatures quickly! And it's all high-efficiency so we'll see a difference in our gas and electric bills. We decided to get it done before the baby comes, instead of afterwards. Sometime in the next 9 months we'll have the floors insulated from the crawlspace -- before winter comes and the baby is crawling around on cold hardwood and stone tile floors. Of our 1900 sq foot house, only about 500 sq feet is carpeted.
I had someone come in to tackle cleaning the bathrooms and floors, and she did a beautiful job for a fair wage. I'll probably ask her back in a few weeks.
The Graco pack n'play bassinet has been put together and is situated by my bed. It's going to be a good height for handling middle of the night changes and breastfeeding. I've already got diaper-changing and feeding-related stuff in two canvas bins in the top half of the bassinet. God, I hope I'm ready for that!
All the baby clothes and linens that came in this week have been washed and stashed. Yesterday we stopped by Ikea to pick up a dresser and cloth bins to compartmentalize the drawers so those tiny little socks and whatnot don't get lost in the shuffle. M wanted to be a part of the baby furniture decision-making process, but he's only available on weekends, and our weekends have been full of classes and house-related projects and his usual techie puttering. Hopefully we'll get the dresser assembled today.
Speaking of classes, I had the breastfeeding class and the newborn care class yesterday. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I booked two 2.5-3 hour classes back to back. All that sitting in hard chairs made my feet and ankles swell. They're still swollen this morning. Grr.
I'm getting frustrated and tearful a lot more these days, mostly with M. I know it's not fair for me to expect him to read my mind and anticipate my needs, but there are times when I wish he was a better listener -- especially those times when I've had to repeat myself. He's also used to me being his reminder system, but I'm not very good at it these days -- not when my brain is mushy like it is now. Living with M is like living with an artist or musician or an absent-minded professor. He's always thinking and imagining--which I love about him. He's got a big, sexy brain. Before we lived together he'd forget to do things like make meals, do laundry, and feed the cat -- so I took all the domestic stuff on. And now I'm a bit overwhelmed. It's frustrating when he asks me about something as simple as how I make his bacon sandwiches -- which I make the way he told me he likes them -- but, I should be happy he's making the effort, right? Right. Right.
Sleeping is no longer the deep, restful sleep it once was. I'm constantly adjusting positions because something is tingling or I can't breathe right or the baby keeps pounding on the same spot like he needs more room. I'm resting/napping a lot more. I experience the burning-eye need to lay down two or three times a day now. The good news is that this phase is only for 2 more weeks.Once the baby is born I'll be sleeping less, I know, but I'll be experiencing a lot less physical discomfort (I hope) and much better mobility. Two improvements which should have a marked impact on my emotional state.
Still to do are the bag for the hospital, the installation of the car seat base, purchasing some newborn disposable diapers to get through the first few days of toxic waste, and finishing the re-organization of my bedroom so I'm not tripping over bins and boxes.
I had someone come in to tackle cleaning the bathrooms and floors, and she did a beautiful job for a fair wage. I'll probably ask her back in a few weeks.
The Graco pack n'play bassinet has been put together and is situated by my bed. It's going to be a good height for handling middle of the night changes and breastfeeding. I've already got diaper-changing and feeding-related stuff in two canvas bins in the top half of the bassinet. God, I hope I'm ready for that!
All the baby clothes and linens that came in this week have been washed and stashed. Yesterday we stopped by Ikea to pick up a dresser and cloth bins to compartmentalize the drawers so those tiny little socks and whatnot don't get lost in the shuffle. M wanted to be a part of the baby furniture decision-making process, but he's only available on weekends, and our weekends have been full of classes and house-related projects and his usual techie puttering. Hopefully we'll get the dresser assembled today.
Speaking of classes, I had the breastfeeding class and the newborn care class yesterday. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I booked two 2.5-3 hour classes back to back. All that sitting in hard chairs made my feet and ankles swell. They're still swollen this morning. Grr.
I'm getting frustrated and tearful a lot more these days, mostly with M. I know it's not fair for me to expect him to read my mind and anticipate my needs, but there are times when I wish he was a better listener -- especially those times when I've had to repeat myself. He's also used to me being his reminder system, but I'm not very good at it these days -- not when my brain is mushy like it is now. Living with M is like living with an artist or musician or an absent-minded professor. He's always thinking and imagining--which I love about him. He's got a big, sexy brain. Before we lived together he'd forget to do things like make meals, do laundry, and feed the cat -- so I took all the domestic stuff on. And now I'm a bit overwhelmed. It's frustrating when he asks me about something as simple as how I make his bacon sandwiches -- which I make the way he told me he likes them -- but, I should be happy he's making the effort, right? Right. Right.
Sleeping is no longer the deep, restful sleep it once was. I'm constantly adjusting positions because something is tingling or I can't breathe right or the baby keeps pounding on the same spot like he needs more room. I'm resting/napping a lot more. I experience the burning-eye need to lay down two or three times a day now. The good news is that this phase is only for 2 more weeks.Once the baby is born I'll be sleeping less, I know, but I'll be experiencing a lot less physical discomfort (I hope) and much better mobility. Two improvements which should have a marked impact on my emotional state.
Still to do are the bag for the hospital, the installation of the car seat base, purchasing some newborn disposable diapers to get through the first few days of toxic waste, and finishing the re-organization of my bedroom so I'm not tripping over bins and boxes.
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.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Pregnant in Forties equals High Risk Pregnancy (so they say)
I've spent days working on a particular post that isn't ready yet, and in the meantime, the baby is growing.
It seems like just yesterday that I noticed the hardness of my uterus creeping up past my belly button. Now it's half-way to my diaphragm. I've gotten used to that constantly-bloated feeling now. I go in for a growth ultrasound on Thursday to make sure he's the right size for his age. I don't think that's going to be a problem.
Since I'm in my Forties, this is considered a high-risk pregnancy. So far, at 27 weeks, I'm not retaining any water. No puffiness in my face or extremities. My breathing is good -- I only feel winded when I try to keep up with M when we're walking together. My blood pressure is good. Soon I'll be monitoring my urine for signs of stress on my kidneys (toxemia), and I'll go in for another blood glucose test soon to make sure I'm not getting gestational diabetes. My mood is good, especially now that M is over his shock and talking more openly about the baby. For a while there I had dark spells in which I felt very alone and stuck.
I've either gotten used to the soreness on my knees that has plagued me since the First Trimester, or it's let up for some reason. They still hurt, but not as much. Getting up from the couch and even out of bed is more work these days. I used to sleep mostly in the middle of my bed, but I've changed to sleeping on the right side of my bed, leaving the entire left side clear, which gives me lots of room to sleep on my left side and none on my right. Sleeping on my back makes my legs tingle and sleeping on my right puts pressure on the superior vena cava, and as the baby grows it will only get worse, so I'm using pillows to keep me from sleeping any direction but left. Thank God M and I have separate beds!
I'm wearing a bra to bed at night, have been for a while. My breasts tend to wake me with aches and burning if I don't. So far they haven't grown drastically in cup size... they've just filled-in, back to the firmness I remember in my 20s. If they fill in much more, though, I'm going to have to step up another cup size.
Laughing, coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, vomiting -- these things put pressure on my bladder and often result in a change of clothing. I may resort to wearing panty-liners soon.
I'm fidgety. I'm constantly changing positions. Switching between couch and chair. Laying on the water bed once in a while instead of my tempurpedic. Standing I like, so long as there is movement involved. If I'm standing in a line for more than 15 minutes my low back starts to hurt. I try to finish what I start, but I find that I'm over-estimating my stamina. I really have to pace myself, especially with regards to exertion like digging things up in the garden, etc. I get cramps and feel sore low under my belly when I over do it.
I find that I'm hungry a lot more often these days. I'm trying to keep the noshing under control by stocking the fridge with greek yogurt and snap peas and sticks of cheese, and by navigating around certain shops when I'm on my walks. I'm two and three blocks from a Cold Stone Creamery, Beard Papa's Desserts, and Fletch's Footlongs for example. A couple of blocks more and there's bubble tea places, chinese, thai, and indian restaurants, two hot pot places (one chinese and one japanese), a dozen sushi and bento places, several pizza shops, two donut shops, gelato and coffee shops, four italian places, and two organic gourmet burger joints in addition to KFC, Taco Bell, and Burger King. Yeah -- I live in a pregnant woman's food paradise -- or nightmare, depending on perspective.
On the up side, my hair and skin and nails look great. I have a good excuse to nap whenever I want to. M is more solicitous with regards to my comfort, and more zealous about my physical exertion. I get to intersperse my activities with "just being" down-time. This works well with the whole pregnancy-brain thing. I find that if I give myself time to zone-out and just be, I feel less stressed and am less likely to experience those pregnancy-brain blank-outs at inconvenient moments.
So far, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed, this high-risk pregnancy has been pretty low-key. 12 more weeks to go, and we'll be bringing a little one home. Which reminds me... I should start thinking about buying some nursery furniture and figuring out how to incorporate a newborn's paraphernalia into my bedroom.
It seems like just yesterday that I noticed the hardness of my uterus creeping up past my belly button. Now it's half-way to my diaphragm. I've gotten used to that constantly-bloated feeling now. I go in for a growth ultrasound on Thursday to make sure he's the right size for his age. I don't think that's going to be a problem.
Since I'm in my Forties, this is considered a high-risk pregnancy. So far, at 27 weeks, I'm not retaining any water. No puffiness in my face or extremities. My breathing is good -- I only feel winded when I try to keep up with M when we're walking together. My blood pressure is good. Soon I'll be monitoring my urine for signs of stress on my kidneys (toxemia), and I'll go in for another blood glucose test soon to make sure I'm not getting gestational diabetes. My mood is good, especially now that M is over his shock and talking more openly about the baby. For a while there I had dark spells in which I felt very alone and stuck.
I've either gotten used to the soreness on my knees that has plagued me since the First Trimester, or it's let up for some reason. They still hurt, but not as much. Getting up from the couch and even out of bed is more work these days. I used to sleep mostly in the middle of my bed, but I've changed to sleeping on the right side of my bed, leaving the entire left side clear, which gives me lots of room to sleep on my left side and none on my right. Sleeping on my back makes my legs tingle and sleeping on my right puts pressure on the superior vena cava, and as the baby grows it will only get worse, so I'm using pillows to keep me from sleeping any direction but left. Thank God M and I have separate beds!
I'm wearing a bra to bed at night, have been for a while. My breasts tend to wake me with aches and burning if I don't. So far they haven't grown drastically in cup size... they've just filled-in, back to the firmness I remember in my 20s. If they fill in much more, though, I'm going to have to step up another cup size.
Laughing, coughing, sneezing, hiccuping, vomiting -- these things put pressure on my bladder and often result in a change of clothing. I may resort to wearing panty-liners soon.
I'm fidgety. I'm constantly changing positions. Switching between couch and chair. Laying on the water bed once in a while instead of my tempurpedic. Standing I like, so long as there is movement involved. If I'm standing in a line for more than 15 minutes my low back starts to hurt. I try to finish what I start, but I find that I'm over-estimating my stamina. I really have to pace myself, especially with regards to exertion like digging things up in the garden, etc. I get cramps and feel sore low under my belly when I over do it.
I find that I'm hungry a lot more often these days. I'm trying to keep the noshing under control by stocking the fridge with greek yogurt and snap peas and sticks of cheese, and by navigating around certain shops when I'm on my walks. I'm two and three blocks from a Cold Stone Creamery, Beard Papa's Desserts, and Fletch's Footlongs for example. A couple of blocks more and there's bubble tea places, chinese, thai, and indian restaurants, two hot pot places (one chinese and one japanese), a dozen sushi and bento places, several pizza shops, two donut shops, gelato and coffee shops, four italian places, and two organic gourmet burger joints in addition to KFC, Taco Bell, and Burger King. Yeah -- I live in a pregnant woman's food paradise -- or nightmare, depending on perspective.
On the up side, my hair and skin and nails look great. I have a good excuse to nap whenever I want to. M is more solicitous with regards to my comfort, and more zealous about my physical exertion. I get to intersperse my activities with "just being" down-time. This works well with the whole pregnancy-brain thing. I find that if I give myself time to zone-out and just be, I feel less stressed and am less likely to experience those pregnancy-brain blank-outs at inconvenient moments.
So far, and I'm keeping my fingers crossed, this high-risk pregnancy has been pretty low-key. 12 more weeks to go, and we'll be bringing a little one home. Which reminds me... I should start thinking about buying some nursery furniture and figuring out how to incorporate a newborn's paraphernalia into my bedroom.
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.
Monday, January 30, 2012
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.
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.
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... ;)
Monday, January 16, 2012
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Family Reactions
My family has reacted very positively to the news of my pregnancy.
Friends and family were aware that I've not been feeling well the past couple of months so it seemed important to let them know that there wasn't anything terribly wrong. We've had 3 deaths in the family around this time in the past 3 years so everyone has been holding their breaths wondering what was going to happen next. One of my sisters is dead and the other has literally descended into madness, so needless to say, my parents are giddy with relief. My step-sisters and my friends have all been supportive and congratulatory.
M got a more mixed reaction from his family.
His father is pleased, his sister is very happy, and his mother is upset. She's had a rough year, economically, and she had to take in her elder mentally-handicapped brother, and she wants her son back home in Canada, someday. Him buying a house here in the States and then getting an American knocked-up puts a damper on that idea. Hers is a disappointing reaction, but I'm sure she'll come around. Now that he's told her and she's gotten upset, he has a good excuse to stay at his father's house, where he grew up, away from all the cats he's allergic to and the uncle he has difficulty relating to. It's too much uncomfortableness for someone with his level of sensitivity.
Meanwhile, M is a bit of a nervous wreck and can't wait to get home. To me, in the States.
Meanwhile, I miss him. Home isn't quite home without him.
M will wait to tell his extended family and friends until after the amnio results come through in a few weeks. It doesn't make sense to let everyone know and then have to retract the announcement if it turns out we're going to terminate the pregnancy. It could be rather painful, actually. I'm trying not to regret letting most of the people on my side know, since they're all so positive and excited and I'd hate to have to give them bad news.
Ah well. Telling others about the pregnancy helps the reality of it sink in. I'm still partly in a state of disbelief. How could something that was never supposed to happen to me suddenly happen after 20 years? Life is weird. Life finds a way.
Friends and family were aware that I've not been feeling well the past couple of months so it seemed important to let them know that there wasn't anything terribly wrong. We've had 3 deaths in the family around this time in the past 3 years so everyone has been holding their breaths wondering what was going to happen next. One of my sisters is dead and the other has literally descended into madness, so needless to say, my parents are giddy with relief. My step-sisters and my friends have all been supportive and congratulatory.
M got a more mixed reaction from his family.
His father is pleased, his sister is very happy, and his mother is upset. She's had a rough year, economically, and she had to take in her elder mentally-handicapped brother, and she wants her son back home in Canada, someday. Him buying a house here in the States and then getting an American knocked-up puts a damper on that idea. Hers is a disappointing reaction, but I'm sure she'll come around. Now that he's told her and she's gotten upset, he has a good excuse to stay at his father's house, where he grew up, away from all the cats he's allergic to and the uncle he has difficulty relating to. It's too much uncomfortableness for someone with his level of sensitivity.
Meanwhile, M is a bit of a nervous wreck and can't wait to get home. To me, in the States.
Meanwhile, I miss him. Home isn't quite home without him.
M will wait to tell his extended family and friends until after the amnio results come through in a few weeks. It doesn't make sense to let everyone know and then have to retract the announcement if it turns out we're going to terminate the pregnancy. It could be rather painful, actually. I'm trying not to regret letting most of the people on my side know, since they're all so positive and excited and I'd hate to have to give them bad news.
Ah well. Telling others about the pregnancy helps the reality of it sink in. I'm still partly in a state of disbelief. How could something that was never supposed to happen to me suddenly happen after 20 years? Life is weird. Life finds a way.
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