Celebratory Wine

To celebrate the birth of my son, I recently opened a bottle of wine I'd laid away a dozen years ago, a rare 1999 Bordeaux blend out of Willamette Valley Vineyards called The Griffin. I paid $75 for the bottle in 2000, and if I recall correctly, it was the first year that WVV made a Bordeaux-style blend -- 1999 was the first year the winemaker thought they had the perfect fruit for the attempt.

The wine itself was worth the 12-year wait. It poured from the bottle a deep blood red color -- a color you'd expect from a wine made with cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, and merlot grapes. The nose was complex, as was the taste. I'm not the type of person who intentionally singles out different scents or flavors from wines -- my feeling is that when you are preoccupied analyzing a wine (or a book, or painting, or anything similarly complex) you lessen the experience of the whole. In this case, the whole was a luscious, smooth red wine with very little astringency -- most of the tannin was aged out of it.

We drank it when we got home from a Moroccan restaurant. The wine was a good finish after a sweet meal (lamb with honey and almonds). The baby fared pretty well through all the music and belly-dancing, and was completely limp when we got home. I limited myself to one glass, to minimize the mount of alcohol that passed through to my breastmilk. It is interesting to note that even though he's no longer in utero, what I do with/to my body is still dictated by his needs -- and will be for another year or two.

TMI: Lady-parts postpartum discussion

While I am excited to have my body back, there are some things I wish I'd understood about what would happen to my body during the postpartum period, so I'm documenting it and passing it along to other first-time mothers. Just a warning, the ick-factor of the subject matter may make some people uncomfortable.


First, the bleeding/discharge, also known as lochia. A friend recommended I stock up on sanitary pads a couple of months ago, and the hospital gave me a package of maternity pads, but I didn't really understand what I was in for. It's been two weeks and I'm still bleeding, though it is lessening. It's like menstrual flow at first, and then it changes (as mentioned in the wiki article I've linked to). There is also the smell, which is a lot like the typical coppery menstrual smell, along with a fresh-meat/meat counter scent that is probably related to healing up from the level 2 perineal tear. I recommend buying heavy-duty pads and just preparing yourself to spend a few weeks feeling less-than-pretty while dealing with your messy Aunt Flow.


Second, anemia. Most women experience anemia in the Third Trimester, I learned. I'd never been anemic before, and even with extra iron in my prenatal vitamin, my iron, etc tested low. I ended up taking ferrous fumarate supplements my last couple of months of pregnancy, because the last thing I wanted was to go into childbirth anemic. With all the bleeding that has been going on, and all the energy that is required to take care of a newborn, I strongly recommend taking extra iron in the Third Trimester and continuing it for a while afterwards.



Third, constipation. In the last weeks of pregnancy I didn't eat much, so I didn't have much in the way of bowel movements, but given that I was taking iron supplements, which are known to be constipating, I made sure to eat a couple of dried figs for fiber every day. Also, I learned the hard way that some of the pain medications used during childbirth can cause constipation/hard stools, and when you're sore and healing from an episiotomy or a tear, (or a C-section for that matter) the last thing you want to do is bear down, so do yourself a favor and have stool softeners waiting for you when you get home from the hospital.You'll be taking them for a couple of weeks, at least, until you're healed up "down there."



Fourth, inflammation and pain. Sitting was very uncomfortable for several days. I can't take NSAIDs, but I wish I could, because the inflammation of the vaginal and rectal areas are aggravated by the pressure/pain from sitting, including using the toilet. In my case, I have access to a Japanese bidet (a Toto Washlet) or I would have used a sitz bath. Soaking helps with the discomfort as well as keeping clean. I use baby wipes instead of toilet tissue right now, as it reduces the abrasion of tender tissues. In the medical profession pain is considered the fifth vital sign. It is important to keep pain levels down when you're healing because otherwise your body diverts resources toward the stress response (fight or flight, production of adrenaline, cortisol, etc). Add pain on top of dealing with a fussy newborn and a sleep deficit, and you're likely to be irritable toward everyone around you. So make sure you've got adequate pain relief when you leave the hospital.

Life with baby, week two.

So far Daddy M and I are adapting fairly easily to the changes that Little Man is bringing to our lives.  It's good that his father has several weeks of paternity leave because it gives them time to bond. I love settling Little Man on his father's bare chest and watching him relax into his father's warmth, arms limp and hanging down along Daddy's ribs. They nap well together, now that M is learning how to relax with the baby on his chest. He's been great about stepping in to help with baby-related stuff when I find myself trying to juggle too many things at once.

Being a mother is a comfortable role for me. I wear it well. It's definitely not a role I ever intended to take on, but it suits me all the same. My life has changed significantly, but not beyond recognition. I value tranquility and contemplation, and while there is certainly less of both in my life these days, nursing Little Man does create opportunities for meditative moments. These little time-outs are restorative. They also enhance the bonding process and force me to slow down. There is very little going on in my world that can't wait until a baby finishes nursing, I've discovered.

We are blessed with an easy baby. Little Man rarely cries or fusses, and in the past two weeks I've learned to read him well enough to know when he's gassy and needs burping, when he needs a diaper change, when he's hungry, and when he wants snuggling. He's got a great smile that he shares liberally with us, and each day he's more alert for longer stretches of time. I carry or wear him around the house and outside when I'm puttering in the garden. He's such a quiet little guy that we've taken him to a few restaurants and even to a movie without incident. Our proximity to downtown means we can walk to dinner or the movies pushing him along in the pram, and when he's older the nearby city parks are going to be very easy to visit.

I am blessed with the ability to be fully functional on 4 to 6 hours of patchwork sleep.  It's hereditary, I think. My sisters were the same way, as was my mother. I am also blessed that Little Man only wakes up once a night for a feeding. I usually feed him at 11pm, again at 3am-ish, and then when we wakes up again sometime between 6 and 8 am, depending on how long it took him to get back to sleep from his middle-of-the-night milk-a-thon. He's drinking 3 and sometimes even 4 ounces at a time now, which is why he's sleeping for longer stretches than a lot of other newborns.

He started out rather small, at 7 pounds 1 ounce, and after losing 9 ounces on colostrum-only, was 7 pounds 9 ounces on Day 12. He's getting about 1/2 a liter of breastmilk a day (18 ounces), which accounts for his weight increase. And some of my weight loss, I'm sure. I'm glad I made the effort to exercise and keep my weight down during the pregnancy, because my energy-level bounced back up to near-normal within a few days after the baby was born. Seriously. I was cleaning house, doing laundry, gardening, baking, and taking care of the baby with just Daddy M's help (my step-mother had to go home the morning after I came home from the hospital) by Day 4. Apparently this quick a recovery isn't common, but I attribute it partially to my hardy Scottish and German peasant heritage (I'm built for baby-making) and partially to my efforts to stay active and keep my weight gain to a minimum so my body isn't burdened with the exhausting task of moving a lot of surplus weight around in addition to keeping up with the demands of a newborn. As it is, I'm looking forward to the soreness and bleeding to end so I can get to work firming up my lower body. I feel loose and jello-y in my abdomen and hips, and trying to walk at my usual pace still causes pelvic discomfort.

The wait to find out what he looks like isn't over yet. Infants are so plastic. So far it looks like Little Man has my nose. I wish he'd gotten his father's lovely grecian nose instead of my snub nose. I think he's got his father's mouth and eyes. Not sure about the chin yet. It's a pointy chin right now. If it had a hint of a cleft or a dimple I'd say he'd gotten mine, but time will tell. He definitely got my ears, which I got from my father's side of the family. His hair is brown and straight right now, but I know that newborn hair often falls out and grows in quite different. I was born with dark hair that fell out and grew in straight and blonde, and then when I hit puberty it turned dark and curly. Everyone comments on the perfect shape of his head. So far it looks like he's got his father's slender build rather than my sturdier one. Hopefully that means he'll have his father's grace, because I have very little. Without a doubt he's got my feet -- I'd know those long, almost prehensile toes anywhere :)

A mother's fears

In my late 30's, I conquered Fear. I picked up the tools for dealing with self-sabotaging fears -- the fears that existed in my head, in my inner world, but not in the real world. I faced my own mortality, I sat with the dying, and I went out and did the things I feared doing because I was tired of being afraid all the time. I learned that everyone is afraid, and that the difference between myself and people who did great things was that the people who did great things felt afraid and acted anyway. I learned that if I wanted to fulfill my own capacity for greatness, I had to develop tools for moving past the paralysis of fear, and use them, every day, until it became second nature to acknowledge my fears and act anyway.

I got off the fear bandwagon, and it was very freeing.

Until last week.

Last week, when my newborn was jaundiced and losing weight and not pooping -- I felt real fear for the first time in years. It was a new kind of fear, and it hit me in the gut like a suckerpunch: What if something happens to my Little Man?

 That thought brought anguish greater than I'd felt at the loss of my sister -- the most keenly felt loss of all the deaths of loved-ones yet -- and sent my mind reeling down the What If path.  As soon as I realized where I was going though, I stopped that self-indulgent sabotage. Down that path lies Smothering Motherhood and an Anxious Fearful Child.

Somewhere there is a balance, and I'll find it. In the meantime, I accept that I'll probably swing between extremes for a bit. I'm sure life will present me many opportunities to confront my mother-fears. I'm also certain I'm up to the challenge of raising a happy, well-adjusted child -- all my fears aside.

I'm also certain that the physical, gut-wrenching response to threats to my son's health and well-being will be with me for the rest of my life. I've just got to learn to accept it as one of the tithes of motherhood and hope it gets easier to think critically and act appropriately despite the fear and the pain.

It does get easier, right?

Little Man's First Week

This first week with our newborn has been challenging. Little Man is jaundiced, but improving. At full-term birth he was 7lbs 1oz but within 3 days he lost 9oz -- about 8% of his original weight. It was tough to see him losing weight on the colostrum he was drawing from my breasts, and when I was told it could take 5 days for my milk to come in, I felt real fear for him. I started drinking Mother's Milk tea and visualizing breasts full of milk during my meditative moments. When my milk came in I was ecstatic, and the blissed-out expression on Little Man's face as he fell asleep with a full belly of milk is one I will always remember.

Our next challenge to face was bowel movements. After 5 days he stopped passing the meconium (which I call toxic waste) and stopped passing anything at all. After 24 hours I called the advice line. They recommended I stimulate his bottom with petroleum jelly and breastfeed him longer and more often, so I did. After 48 hours I was at the pediatric clinic, where they tested his bilirubin (up but not at danger level), took his temperature with a generously lubed anal thermometer, and observed me breastfeeding him to make sure he was drawing enough milk. He was a very aggressive latcher, and I'm producing lots of milk, but the lactation nurse recommended that we supplement the breastfeeding with an additional 2oz of expressed milk every 2.5 to 3 hours. Five feedings later we got what we were looking for, thankfully, but with an undesired side-effect: nipple confusion. He won't latch on anymore, I think because it's so much easier to get milk from a bottle's nipple. So, once we've got his weight up and his bilirubin down, I'll start the battle to get him back on the breast. Thankfully, Kaiser Permanente is strongly committed to breastfeeding because it makes for healthier, happier babies, so I'm getting lots of support from the lactation consultants on staff.

Speaking of Kaiser Permanente, I've got to say that I'm really impressed with this foundation as a health care provider and insurer. My prenatal care was excellent. There was no stinginess when it came to making sure that the baby and I were as healthy as possible, and with all the ultrasounds, fetal non-stress tests, dozens of doctor's appointments, specialist visits, lab tests, etc, I only made one (yes one!) $10 co-pay. My only expenses were my medications and nutritional supplements, and gasoline for all the to-and-fro. The birth experience was great, too. The Redwood City birthing center is staffed with midwives in addition to nurses and doctors, which is why I chose it. It was a very caring environment and the staff all did a great job of keeping me in the loop and educating me so I could make informed choices about how to progress with the laboring and delivery processes. I ended up with two hospital stay co-pays of $100 each. Knowing that I didn't have to worry about minimum deductibles and residual fees made the pregnancy much less stressful than it otherwise could have been.

What else? I'm retaining more water now than I did during my pregnancy. My feet and ankles look pillowy. The past couple of days I've been wrapping them in compression bandages and elevating them, and it does help -- they look better than they used to, but some of the swelling comes back within an hour or so of removing them. I'm still feeling bloated and flabby, and very sore/tender from the waist down, but that is to be expected. Even so, it appears I lost a dress size or two during the pregnancy. I had to dig deep into my closet to find a pair of pants to wear that don't hang off of me, and most of my skirts are way too loose. It will be interesting to see what my weight is now, and what my dress size is once I've firmed up.

Daddy M is being great. He never fails to step-up when I ask him for something. He's taking time out each day to do a skin-on-skin snuggle with his son, and helps with the supplemental feedings. We had a couple of emotional flare-ups the day after my parents went home, mainly because I was in pain and tired and feeling overwhelmed, but since then, my emotional state has been balanced and my body is handling the pain/discomfort better as I'm adjusting to the new sleep schedule and feeling less tired.

Almost time to wake Little Man for his next feeding! I think I'm going to hop into the shower while I can.

The Little Man is here!

Our little man arrived this past weekend. 

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

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

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

The Unintentional Mother's Little Man

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

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

Labor & Delivery Day (take two)

Tomorrow we try again with the labor induction. I don't doubt we'll be successful this time. I saw my obstetrician today and she said that I've dilated another centimeter and I'm 50% effaced, so I've made progress in the last four days. This is great news, because it means that this time around my body is more ready for labor.

I'm doing my best to envision a positive birthing experience, particularly one without the need for a C-section. I've spooked the anesthesiology department with my revelation that in all three of my experiences with general anesthesia, I was very difficult to intubate -- my most recent one took 30 minutes, even with a glide-scope. I'm "anterior" -- whatever that means -- the first anesthesiologist repeated it to me over and over again as I was being taken to recovery. I remember her urgency, saying I needed to remember that one word to give to a doctor if I ever had to go under again. So now the Labor and Delivery team are on notice that Anesthesia needs as much lead time as they can get if it looks like a C-section is needed. The mid-wife's response?  "We'll just have to make sure we won't need a C-section then."  I liked her immensely after that :)

I've had time to relax this week since I got the last of the preparation work done last week. I'm feeling much more rested and centered.

I'm kind of dreading breastfeeding. I've been having those nipple vasospasms two and three times a day, and instead of dragging myself into the shower in the middle of the night, I've been having an ounce of alcohol--which my OB says is ok, especially after she witnessed first-hand just how painful they are. The alcohol is a vasodilator that counteracts the vasoconstriction, usually within 5 minutes or so. It's blessed relief. On top of that, I've been having breathtakingly painful charlie-horse muscle spasms in the groin area the past few nights, so I'm eager to push the little guy out.

I'm looking forward to getting my bladder back, and my stomach, too. Solid food isn't sitting well with me, hasn't for weeks. Most of all, though, I'm looking forward to this next stage of my life.

In some ways I'm still in disbelief that I'm having a baby, even as the reality of it kicks me in the diaphragm and bounces on my bladder. But I'm just crazy about M and we've got a good life and a beautiful home and it seems natural for the baby to be the next thing. After that, who knows?

Back home, no baby -- yet

I had no idea that labor induction could fail, until it happened to me.

I went in on the evening of May 25th and they started me on Oral Cytotec to try to soften up my cervix and start contractions. Well, contractions started, but over the course of 36 hours there was no change in my cervix.  I was given the option of going home and seeing if nature would take it's course over the next few days (and coming back on the 31st if not) or changing up to Pitocin and using a balloon to widen the cervix.

At first I was leaning toward more intervention. I was already there at the hospital and I was tired of being pregnant. I'd also overheard three other women give birth in the room next door, and wanted to move on with labor so I wouldn't have more time to dwell on what it sounded like they were going through. But after talking with the mid-wife, nurse, and OB-on-duty, I chose to go home. I Do Not Want A C-Section, and putting me on Pitocin when I'm not even 2cm dilated means hours and hours of the baby's head slamming against my cervix until it dilates and we 1) have a vaginal birth, 2) have a baby in distress and they to do a C-section, or 3) wear me out and I need to do a C-Section. After thinking about it, the battering ram approach just didn't sound like a good way to start the labor and delivery process -- so I'm back home as of yesterday noon.

Today there is a little discomfort -- a big improvement over yesterday, as I was very sore in my lower abdominal area from all the induced contractions. I continued to have some contractions throughout the day and hoped they would continue into today, but I haven't noticed any, which is a big bummer. It looks like our hopes that the Cytotec would jump-start the laboring process even once the drug left my system isn't panning out. Ah well.

In the meantime, I'm being as active as I can. I may even get out there and do some gardening. The nurse midwife said to go home and have sex, and try some nipple stimulation. I've been having very painful nipple vasospasms lately so the thought of stimulation makes me cringe, and I'm tender enough in my nether parts after the contractions that the thought of sex also makes me cringe. We'll see what the next few days bring.

Naturally, I'm feeling disappointed, but I'm also pleased with my decision to go home and not force the labor. The OB on duty told me he thought it was the right decision. I don't want to increase the risk of a long, hard labor that ends in a C-section -- it's not the best thing for me or the baby. He'll be here soon enough. We just need to balance the benefits of letting him choose his time against the risks of placental and amniotic deterioration that are more common in women my age.

In the meantime, my step-mom will be around until the birth, and I'll get some more just-us snuggle time with M. Not a bad trade-off.

Try a little tenderness (instead of pissiness)

I was up and around after 4 hours sleep.

The "up" part has become a lot more challenging this past week. It's something I do s-l-o-w-l-y so the baby weight in my uterus has time to shift with me. If I get up too quickly it just plain hurts, so I ease into a standing position and make my way around the house with the help of the walls until I've got my equilibrium and momentum. I cleaned the kitchen, fed the cats, took my morning vitamins, and got to work finishing the data migration from my old MacBook Pro to the new one. I know if I don't have it done before the baby comes it could be months before I've got a fully-functioning personal computer again.

The wind woke M up about 10 minutes earlier than his usual time. It's been gusting up to 40mph here for at least 36 hours and the wind downed a gorgeous old olive tree across the street yesterday. We spent a little time together before he fired up the computers for work and play, and by 10am I felt an uncontrollable urge to nap.

We had another workman come in today, and after I found dealing with yesterday's workman so tiring, M decided to work from home today to help me out. The window for his arrival was 9:30-11:00 and at 10:50am, while I was napping, M got into the shower. He thought the guy was going to be a no-show. Nope. At 10:55 the doorbell rang. Then some knocking. I yelled for M to get the door, not knowing he was in the shower. The doorbell rang again and more knocking. I realized that if I didn't get to the door soon, the guy might leave, and the hole in the wall (left by the plumber who repaired a leak in the master bath) would go un-repaired. So I leaped out of bed (a feat that hurt so badly my knees almost buckled) and hobbled to the door as fast as my legs and the walls would support me. This 60 foot dash had me a little out of breath as I opened the door, still in my pajamas and clutching at my belly. I'm sure I wasn't a pretty picture, and as a result of my humiliation and disappointment, I sought out poor M while he was still in the shower and got pissy with him. It took me about half an hour to get over my pissyness, even after he'd apologized a couple of times and gave me a hug. Grr.

The good news is the contractor did a great job of patching up our wall. If we had regular drywall I would have patched it myself, but we don't. The walls in our circa 1950 house have two layers of wallboard--one is cementboard and another is a plasterboard that was a precursor to sheetrock, for a combined thickness of about 3/4". I didn't feel like wrestling with trying to find a combination of furring strips and sheetrock that would make the right thickness to match the rest of the wall, or doing the amount of messy mudding (spackling) it would take to build the surface up if I had to use just 5/8" drywall--even if I wasn't 39 weeks pregnant :) The best thing about being "handy" is knowing how to do a cost-benefit analysis that helps determine whether or not to let a pro do the work.

This afternoon we snuggled a bit and had a mini-talk about how the baby is going to impact our lives. I told him he's going to have to step in as the primary source of attention for Jasper, who is a very social animal and needs interaction with his people, or he acts out. It's rather funny, actually.

I also told him that I want him to let me know if he is experiencing an attention deficit, because I'm going to be tuning into the baby's needs and may not be as attuned to his. I've gotten very good about letting him know what my needs are, even making an effort to give him advanced notice where I can, and I've also gotten very good at anticipating his needs (which he loves--who wouldn't?) but realistically, I'm not sure I'm going to be able to maintain that level of presence with a newborn on my hands. I know a lot of couples go through a tough time the first 6 months because the father feels like a third wheel and an afterthought and I'm hoping to avoid that by reminding M that he has a better chance of getting what he wants if he has the presence of mind to ask for it ;)

Tonight he plays poker with his friends, and I get the evening to myself. Probably the last evening alone in a long, long time.

Tomorrow night we'll have our Last Supper as a childless couple.

And Friday morning we initiate labor. Finally.

Wish me luck!

Final letter to my unborn son

Dear baby boy,

On Thursday May 24th we start week 40, you and me. If you don't show signs of making your way out into the world before then, I'll be at the hospital first thing Friday morning to start the process of inducing labor. Even though this pregnancy has gone remarkably well, my age and the fact that you are my first child puts us in the "high risk" category, which means the obstetrician doesn't want us going past 40 weeks.

We're mostly ready for you, dragon-baby. Your father had hoped you'd arrive Sunday May 20th for the solar eclipse, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. This gives me a few more days to finish up some things I am hoping to complete before you arrive.

There is a fair amount of anxiety floating around in the house these days. Your father and I are feeling nervous and afraid. We've completed the environmental preparations for your arrival -- clothes, diapers, a place to sleep, breastfeeding supplies, etc -- but mentally and emotionally we've both admitted we're afraid we're not ready for parenthood. We're set in our ways, I admit it, and we like the way our life together has been running the past few years. We're content together, our relationship works very well, and we have a lot of freedom. And that is changing soon -- as soon as you arrive.

But even more than the fear of lifestyle changes and the fears of possible parental inadequacy, there is a fear your father and I haven't talked about. The fear that something might happen during childbirth, to you, or to me.

So in some way the purposes of writing this letter is to address the possibility, however slim, that I might not be around to raise you. There. I said it. After my brush with my own mortality and the deaths of three other family members the past few years, I'm pretty ok with death and dying. Or at least I thought I was. But deciding to bring you into this world, choosing to become a parent -- well, that has changed quite a lot. It's not all about me anymore, whether I live or die. I've made the commitment to be a mother and that means my life isn't my own anymore. You are wholly dependent on me, both while in the womb and for months (years) after you're born. And I'm afraid, more than anything else, that I won't be there for you.

Your father had a really difficult time of it when I was so sick with septicemia -- witnessing the fact that I'd almost died scared him, affected him deeply. It changed our relationship significantly, brought things into sharp focus. It isn't until you face the prospect of losing someone that you realize how important they are to you. In the months that followed we chose each other, chose to take what lies between us more seriously, and that is a powerful thing.  Powerful enough to create the possibility of you. I worry about how your father will handle things if something happens to me as a result of childbirth. He's a good man, a deeply sensitive and caring man, and I worry about how devastated he'd be if I died. And how that devastation would impact his ability to care for you.

The odds are in our favor, of course, and it's unlikely this fear of mine will come to pass, but over the years I've learned to face my fears head-on rather than run and hide from them. My own mother is gone and all I have are memories, and I know that in the event that I die while you are still an infant, you won't even have memories of me.

Oh, there will be some photos, and some recordings of my voice, and a fairly significant body of writing both personal and professional -- so I think when you're older you'll have an idea of the person I am as of today. And hopefully the mother I would have been...

A week from now I hope I'll feel silly for writing this. I'll probably chalk it off to pregnancy hormones and a healthy dose of fear. Still, it's all worth saying, and better said than not.

If I didn't write this now, you wouldn't know about the hours I've spent rubbing you through my belly, or the time I've spent telling you silly little anecdotes about my sisters and my grandparents. You wouldn't know how much I've come to love you, love the feel of you moving inside me -- you -- the embodiment of the love and possibility that exists between your father and me.  You might not know that even though I didn't plan on having children, didn't really think I wanted children -- that I want you, and that I'm looking forward to building a new life around you with your father.

I would want you to know that your father makes me laugh like no one else can, and that he and I have had a deep emotional bond for 8 years now -- a good, solid basis to build a relationship as parents on. That I have freckles on my nose and a mole on my upper arm and a widow's peak inherited from my father's mother. If you like your nose it means you got your father's nose, or my mother's nose -- because I've got my dad's nose and I don't like it much :)  I want you to know that if your taste in music is different from your father's -- if you end up liking jazz and blues and tribal beats -- it's because I listened to it when you were in the womb. If you're good at math and piano you get it from your father, and if you can't pick up playing musical instruments no matter how many lessons you've had, you get that from me. (Sorry!)

I'd want you to know that I don't have a favorite color. When I was a little girl and the other kids were picking favorite colors it occurred to me to feel sorry for the colors that weren't chosen, so I never picked one. My color preferences are mostly dictated by my mood.  I don't have a favorite flower or food, either. I tend to live in the moment, and appreciate whatever is here in this moment -- something that having preferences or favorites can interfere with. Your father and I both learned to read very young, so you probably will, too. My favorite books from childhood are the stories of Winnie-the-Pooh, and The Warm Fuzzy Story, and the stories of Pippie Longstocking, Sinbad the Sailor, and Puff the Magic Dragon. Your father will probably start you on Tolkein. I hope you like his work, but if you don't, your father will blame me :) If the Disney movies terrified you when you were little, that's on me as well. I took things very literally when I was a child. If you don't like TV or movies much -- if you'd rather read or otherwise feed your brain you get that from me -- but be a good boy and try to sit through your father's shows with him. He will appreciate the effort.

Most of all, I'm a loving, affectionate person. I love hugging, snuggling, and massaging the people I care for. If something goes wrong, I just want you to know that I am so looking forward to splashing love and joy and affection all over you, and it makes me very sad to think we might miss out on that.

There are other things I'd want you to know, things I've learned over the years. For example: You don't get what you don't ask for. * Life can be tough at times, and we're all in this together, so don't forget to ask for help when you need it. * Be clever if you can, but never forget to be kind. * Don't let anyone tell you that there is something wrong with you--you're perfect and complete just the way you are, and everything you need to be happy is already inside you. * Love isn't something to be hoarded. Instead, love like you're trying to give all the love inside you away by the end of the day--you'll be full again in the morning, I promise, and you and the people in your life will be better off for it. * People are more alike than they are different, and if you remember that, you'll always have common ground. * Your only limitations are the ones you believe in. * It's ok to be afraid--everyone is afraid--but most fears are creations of your own mind, so don't let them get in your way. * The only regrets people tend to have in life are the things they didn't do. * It's ok to make mistakes. Mistakes are often acts of creation. Just remember to own up to them and make amends when you can. * Your thoughts and attitudes are creative and causal forces in your life--as you think, so you are and so your life is. * Own your present and your future: Be the change you want to see in the world and it will come to pass. * Be playful. * Be grateful. * And most of all, Be Happy. *

Love,
Mom