I never even realized I wanted a daughter until I heard the words It's a boy!. The first time I heard the words, when I was pregnant with Brendan, I was elated. I knew I wanted my firstborn to be a boy no matter what.
Still, I came home and took the little blue dress my mother had saved all those years out of my cedar chest and sat on the floor and cried, knowing in my heart that it would never be worn again.
Almost exactly one year earlier I had lost a baby, having a miscarriage at just 10 weeks. My doctor performed a D & C and sent the tissue off for analysis to determine what had caused the miscarriage. One of the things we learned was that this baby had been a girl. Apparently, the girl of dreams I didn't even know I had.
When I got pregnant last year, my hopes battled against one another. On the one hand, I had never really visualized myself having a daughter. I'm not really a girly-girl, and my own relationship with my mother was a roller coaster of angst that always left me envying the relationships my friends had with their mothers. When I saw myself with a child, it was always a sweet, loving little boy. But, usually only the one. Yet, there was some sense there of wanting to experience raising both sexes. This, despite the fact that I hate Barbie and princess stories, and the whole nine yards that's wrapped up into having a girl these days.
But when I again learned I was having a son, I was happy. Really happy. Happy that Brendan was having a brother. Happy that I had experience with a son. Happy that I didn't have to start from scratch. But, at the same time, I was heartbroken.
Sons really love their moms in a way that daughters never will. But daughters need their moms in ways that sons never can and I'm never going to know that.
I will never get to decorate a room that doesn't involve planes, trains, automobiles, diggers, bulldozers, insects, lions, the Atlanta Braves, Falcons, or sports in general.
I will never experience dance lessons. Or help my daughter learn to wear make-up. Or hear about a first crush.
I will never help my daughter pick out a prom dress. Or buy children's shoes that are any color other than white, brown, red, black, or grey, or used for any purpose except to learn to walk or run up and down a field or (hopefully!) basketball court. If I'm lucky, I can get them both into a pair of saddle shoes at Easter. Just for something different.
I will never help plan a wedding for my daughter. I will never get to see her try on a wedding gown for the first time or have anyone to wear the wedding gown that still hangs in my closet. I will never put the pearl necklace I wore at my wedding around her neck.
I'll never get to see Scott whisper sweet, funny, words of wisdom to his only girl just before he walks her down the aisle.
My daughter will never call me and ask me what to do about a colicky baby or ask me to be with her when she has my first grandchild.
The best I can hope for is that my sons marry girls who like me and invite me to be a part of their lives in some way.
Good luck with that.
(And all of this just because a friend had her fourth baby last week. The third girl. Named one of the perfect beautiful names on my short list.... Clare.)
Friday, February 23, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
Reasons Why
After 2 1/2 hours in the ER at the Children's Hospital, Scott asked Brendan who his valentine was. Without missing a beat, Brendan gushes Mommy!, looking at me with his big, gorgeous blue eyes and smiling a smile that could melt Antarctica. Then, he runs over and gives me what he would characterize as a ginormous hug.
Somehow, that makes it all good.
Somehow, that makes it all good.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Big Brother
Yesterday did not go quite as planned.
We spent three hours in the ER at Egleston Children's Hospital so that we could learn Beckett has a cold. News we've known for over a month now.
I took him to his pediatrician yesterday because he was wheezing. His doctor has always told me that if the child is wheezing or pulling in at the rib cage when he breathes, you should bring him in. So I did. After examining him, the doctor decided to do a breathing treatment. Nothing changed. She told me his lungs sounded terrible and she wanted him to go to the ER for a chest X-ray to rule out pneumonia.
The whole process was actually much smoother than you imagine going to the ER will be. There was one thing that impressed me more than anything else about it all, though, and that was how well both boys did.
During the breathing treatment at the pediatrician's office, Brendan asked me if Beckett was scared and then proceeded to hold his baby brother's hand for at least five out of the ten minutes he had to wear the mask. When I sang a lullaby to comfort Beckett during the treatment, Brendan joined in, making up his own words as he sang along.
Scott met me at the hospital, originally planning to take Brendan home, but he was so well-behaved that the two stayed, adding comic relief to what would otherwise have been a long and boring process.
Brendan did so well and was so patient waiting that the nurses and technicians were jumping over themselves to give him stickers and little gifts. And he was such a sweet big brother that he asked his dad if he could share his stickers with Beckett.
I never knew or imagined that love between siblings was so organic and would come so naturally to a child. But with Brendan it has just blossomed ever so magically. I can only think of one moment of jealousy from him since Beckett was born. Otherwise, he has been sweet and funny and helpful as much as a child his age can be.
I am in awe of their love for one another. We're starting to see how Beckett reacts to his big brother...ocassionally annoyed by having someone touching him and in his face, alternately amused by his brother's antics. In fact, Beckett laughed at his brother, out loud, for the first time on Tuesday night. I didn't get to see it because I was out meeting with a client, but Scott got to see it and told me about it yesterday.
It's all very cool. Being an only child I had no idea how this whole sibling thing works. I've seen too many siblings who don't get along and wondered what the magic secret to loving siblings is. Maybe there isn't one. Maybe it just happens. Maybe, like with any love, it's chemistry. I don't know. But it sure is cool to see it blossom before your very eyes.
We spent three hours in the ER at Egleston Children's Hospital so that we could learn Beckett has a cold. News we've known for over a month now.
I took him to his pediatrician yesterday because he was wheezing. His doctor has always told me that if the child is wheezing or pulling in at the rib cage when he breathes, you should bring him in. So I did. After examining him, the doctor decided to do a breathing treatment. Nothing changed. She told me his lungs sounded terrible and she wanted him to go to the ER for a chest X-ray to rule out pneumonia.
The whole process was actually much smoother than you imagine going to the ER will be. There was one thing that impressed me more than anything else about it all, though, and that was how well both boys did.
During the breathing treatment at the pediatrician's office, Brendan asked me if Beckett was scared and then proceeded to hold his baby brother's hand for at least five out of the ten minutes he had to wear the mask. When I sang a lullaby to comfort Beckett during the treatment, Brendan joined in, making up his own words as he sang along.
Scott met me at the hospital, originally planning to take Brendan home, but he was so well-behaved that the two stayed, adding comic relief to what would otherwise have been a long and boring process.
Brendan did so well and was so patient waiting that the nurses and technicians were jumping over themselves to give him stickers and little gifts. And he was such a sweet big brother that he asked his dad if he could share his stickers with Beckett.
I never knew or imagined that love between siblings was so organic and would come so naturally to a child. But with Brendan it has just blossomed ever so magically. I can only think of one moment of jealousy from him since Beckett was born. Otherwise, he has been sweet and funny and helpful as much as a child his age can be.
I am in awe of their love for one another. We're starting to see how Beckett reacts to his big brother...ocassionally annoyed by having someone touching him and in his face, alternately amused by his brother's antics. In fact, Beckett laughed at his brother, out loud, for the first time on Tuesday night. I didn't get to see it because I was out meeting with a client, but Scott got to see it and told me about it yesterday.
It's all very cool. Being an only child I had no idea how this whole sibling thing works. I've seen too many siblings who don't get along and wondered what the magic secret to loving siblings is. Maybe there isn't one. Maybe it just happens. Maybe, like with any love, it's chemistry. I don't know. But it sure is cool to see it blossom before your very eyes.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Shot of Love
Valentine's Day has never been a huge deal to me. I'd much rather celebrate my birthday or a friend or loved one's birthday or an anniversary of a special occasion.
Scott and I have always done small, sweet things for each other on Valentine's Day, the grand gestures reserved for occasions unique to us and our relationship. Like last year, when on the 10th anniversary of the day we met, he recorded a version of my favorite Beatles' song, Michelle, and gave it to me.
On our first Valentine's Day, when we'd been dating slightly less than one month, Scott brought me three yellow roses in a small vase along with a mixed tape of music he felt passionately about: Allen Toussaint on one side and Blind Willie McTell on the other. I loved it! It stands out for me more than any other Valentine's Day gift I've ever received or given. In fact, I can't really remember any others even though I know lots of other sweet things have been done for me on Valentine's Day along the way.
Still, music is so much a part of our relationship and when he shares music with me, it's...well, it's the thing I love most. It makes me feel a part of him because music is not merely a part of Scott's life or somethign he does, it is simply who he is...an amazingly gifted musician.
He's been in various bands for a long, long time, singing and writing really great songs the whole time. Right now he's working on an album and it's really great.
Anyway, my plans for sharing music with him this Valentine's Day got shot down, but I hope the fact that I don't have a gift for him is made up for by this...
Yesterday, I took a CD to a local coffee house that has music on the weekends and now Scott is booked to play there next month. I'm excited! Obviously, this isn't a gift. It is something Scott earned by virtue of his talent and the work he has put into creating new music. It was also something I wanted to do to be a part of this exciting, creative process. It took me way too long to get around to doing it, but I'm glad I did.
Happy Valentine's Day, y'all! I hope everyone feels loved today! I love you all!
Scott and I have always done small, sweet things for each other on Valentine's Day, the grand gestures reserved for occasions unique to us and our relationship. Like last year, when on the 10th anniversary of the day we met, he recorded a version of my favorite Beatles' song, Michelle, and gave it to me.
On our first Valentine's Day, when we'd been dating slightly less than one month, Scott brought me three yellow roses in a small vase along with a mixed tape of music he felt passionately about: Allen Toussaint on one side and Blind Willie McTell on the other. I loved it! It stands out for me more than any other Valentine's Day gift I've ever received or given. In fact, I can't really remember any others even though I know lots of other sweet things have been done for me on Valentine's Day along the way.
Still, music is so much a part of our relationship and when he shares music with me, it's...well, it's the thing I love most. It makes me feel a part of him because music is not merely a part of Scott's life or somethign he does, it is simply who he is...an amazingly gifted musician.
He's been in various bands for a long, long time, singing and writing really great songs the whole time. Right now he's working on an album and it's really great.
Anyway, my plans for sharing music with him this Valentine's Day got shot down, but I hope the fact that I don't have a gift for him is made up for by this...
Yesterday, I took a CD to a local coffee house that has music on the weekends and now Scott is booked to play there next month. I'm excited! Obviously, this isn't a gift. It is something Scott earned by virtue of his talent and the work he has put into creating new music. It was also something I wanted to do to be a part of this exciting, creative process. It took me way too long to get around to doing it, but I'm glad I did.
Happy Valentine's Day, y'all! I hope everyone feels loved today! I love you all!
Friday, February 9, 2007
The Shape I'm In
If I ever doubted the connection between the body and the mind (which I didn't), I would now be completely convinced that the two are inextricably linked. Of course, I have long understood how the two are intertwined, but because I generally use my powers for good and not evil, it hasn't really been an issue for me.
Unfortunately, caught in the snare of postpartum depression, my addled brain has been stuck in a negative cycle, fixating on one negative issue after another: I'm old. I'm fat. My life has no meaning. I thought I'd be fulfilled as a mother, but I'm not and therefore I'm a terrible person. My life is slipping away from me while my husband is embracing his life and making amazing things happen. .
My thoughts swirl in a massive tangle of fear and anger. And then, with no warning, I'm knocked totally off my feet by the worst illness I've had in over ten years. As someone who rarely gets sick, it was quite a shock. I kept thinking I'd be better in a day or two. A week later, Scott and I were discussing who we could get to come help take care of me and the boys because I was so sick. At the doctor, I was diagnosed with the flu, a sinus infection, an eye infection, and naturally, an outbreak of fever blisters just to put the icing on the cake.
I wanted to die. Already depressed, being sick felt like the nail in my coffin. It's so hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you can barely lift your head. And for someone like me who can fight through anything... It's really unnerving to feel so weak and desperate.
I'm mostly well now. I've been on antibiotics for 10 days now. My doctor also prescribed something for anxiety. He thinks that having a newborn and not getting enough sleep, not eating well, and having so much on my mind did my immune system in.
I can't really tell a difference yet. Maybe a little. Things don't seem quite as dark and dire. I am still having trouble getting everything done. We still don't have a schedule or routine established. I still feel exhausted. And like a failure as a wife and mother. And I do feel like I'm having a midlife crisis.... Who am I? What is my purpose in life? Have I screwed everything up?
But, I am trying to break free of my negative thinking, to focus on positive goals, to love my adorable new baby and be present for him and his brother and my husband. I keep waiting for the moment when I'm going to snap free and feel genuinely happy again, when life is fun again.
It's coming. And boy, am I ready.
Unfortunately, caught in the snare of postpartum depression, my addled brain has been stuck in a negative cycle, fixating on one negative issue after another: I'm old. I'm fat. My life has no meaning. I thought I'd be fulfilled as a mother, but I'm not and therefore I'm a terrible person. My life is slipping away from me while my husband is embracing his life and making amazing things happen. .
My thoughts swirl in a massive tangle of fear and anger. And then, with no warning, I'm knocked totally off my feet by the worst illness I've had in over ten years. As someone who rarely gets sick, it was quite a shock. I kept thinking I'd be better in a day or two. A week later, Scott and I were discussing who we could get to come help take care of me and the boys because I was so sick. At the doctor, I was diagnosed with the flu, a sinus infection, an eye infection, and naturally, an outbreak of fever blisters just to put the icing on the cake.
I wanted to die. Already depressed, being sick felt like the nail in my coffin. It's so hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when you can barely lift your head. And for someone like me who can fight through anything... It's really unnerving to feel so weak and desperate.
I'm mostly well now. I've been on antibiotics for 10 days now. My doctor also prescribed something for anxiety. He thinks that having a newborn and not getting enough sleep, not eating well, and having so much on my mind did my immune system in.
I can't really tell a difference yet. Maybe a little. Things don't seem quite as dark and dire. I am still having trouble getting everything done. We still don't have a schedule or routine established. I still feel exhausted. And like a failure as a wife and mother. And I do feel like I'm having a midlife crisis.... Who am I? What is my purpose in life? Have I screwed everything up?
But, I am trying to break free of my negative thinking, to focus on positive goals, to love my adorable new baby and be present for him and his brother and my husband. I keep waiting for the moment when I'm going to snap free and feel genuinely happy again, when life is fun again.
It's coming. And boy, am I ready.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Lost in Space
I'm still not used to the fact that we are now a family of four.
Today, I got our new insurance cards in the mail. When I opened the letter, I was confused as to why four cards fell out. Fortunately for me, the first one I picked up had Beckett's name on it, so the issue was resolved rather quickly.
Who would have thought it would take this long to adjust?
Today, I got our new insurance cards in the mail. When I opened the letter, I was confused as to why four cards fell out. Fortunately for me, the first one I picked up had Beckett's name on it, so the issue was resolved rather quickly.
Who would have thought it would take this long to adjust?
Monday, January 15, 2007
Today is the Greatest
Well. Actually, Saturday was the greatest.
Saturday was my birthday. And it started off not feeling all that special at all. But, because I have such a thoughtful, amazing, totally awesome (that phrase should tell you how old I am!) husband, it turned into a really delightful day.
I have had a lot of bad birthdays in my lifetime, or at least a lot that started off rough. I've had many that started off in the most pathetic manner you can imagine and turned out to be really fantastic. I've actually probably written about it before. When I was a kid, I never had a party. Not once, until I turned 18. That year, I planned my own party. I invited four or five of my closest friends to my house, we ordered pizza, and played Trivial Pursuit. Whoo-hoo.
So, let me just say that I am a big fan of the turnaround just because I've experienced it often enough to know that what starts off as a mess can end up being beautiful. Still, I never expect it.
Saturday really just seemed like any other day. I took Brendan to his friend Joseph's party that morning and was planning on my in-laws coming to keep both boys for a while Saturday evening while we went out. Originally, they were going to spend the night meaning that Scott and I could stay out as late as we wanted. I planned to invite some friends to go to dinner and out dancing or to a show with us. Then, on Tuesday, Scott's stepmom called to say they had to leave our house no later than 10 p.m.
Okay. So, no show, no dancing.
By Friday, I was feeling pretty bummed about the whole thing. Happy that we'd get to go out, but accepting that it couldn't be anything special because of the limited time we'd have to celebrate.
Well, leave it to Scott to make it one of the best birthdays ever.
He took on a full-fledged shopping spree. We went to Lenox Mall and he gave me three hours to go to any clothing store and buy anything I wanted. I had trouble engaging in the process. I took my time. I looked at price tags and tried to be conscious of the cost. But still! It was so much fun and such a sweet thoughtful gesture.
I got a gorgeous A-line wrap dress at Ann Taylor (my all time favorite store!) that Scott picked out for me. It's the perfect thing to wear to Beckett's baptism. I also got a very feminine sweater and a sharp wrap blouse that I can't wait to wear. I need to lose a few more pounds before it looks perfect, but what a great incentive to move quickly on that front.
I also got a softy-soft sweater from The Gap, some sexy heels from 9 West, a blouse, a book, some Aveda Comforting Tea, and Aveda Hand and Foot Lotion.
It was, hands-down, one of the best birthdays ever. Not because of the clothes. That wasn't the real gift, though it's a luxury I appreciate deeply. It was awesome because I got to spend it with Scott who acted as my personal shopper and focused solely on me for the three hours we shopped while he helped me pick out things that flattered my body and indulged my desire to feel like a beautiful, sexy, complete woman and not just a sweatpants-wearing, minivan-driving mama.
I am a lucky, lucky woman to be loved. In this way. By this man.
37 rocks.
Saturday was my birthday. And it started off not feeling all that special at all. But, because I have such a thoughtful, amazing, totally awesome (that phrase should tell you how old I am!) husband, it turned into a really delightful day.
I have had a lot of bad birthdays in my lifetime, or at least a lot that started off rough. I've had many that started off in the most pathetic manner you can imagine and turned out to be really fantastic. I've actually probably written about it before. When I was a kid, I never had a party. Not once, until I turned 18. That year, I planned my own party. I invited four or five of my closest friends to my house, we ordered pizza, and played Trivial Pursuit. Whoo-hoo.
So, let me just say that I am a big fan of the turnaround just because I've experienced it often enough to know that what starts off as a mess can end up being beautiful. Still, I never expect it.
Saturday really just seemed like any other day. I took Brendan to his friend Joseph's party that morning and was planning on my in-laws coming to keep both boys for a while Saturday evening while we went out. Originally, they were going to spend the night meaning that Scott and I could stay out as late as we wanted. I planned to invite some friends to go to dinner and out dancing or to a show with us. Then, on Tuesday, Scott's stepmom called to say they had to leave our house no later than 10 p.m.
Okay. So, no show, no dancing.
By Friday, I was feeling pretty bummed about the whole thing. Happy that we'd get to go out, but accepting that it couldn't be anything special because of the limited time we'd have to celebrate.
Well, leave it to Scott to make it one of the best birthdays ever.
He took on a full-fledged shopping spree. We went to Lenox Mall and he gave me three hours to go to any clothing store and buy anything I wanted. I had trouble engaging in the process. I took my time. I looked at price tags and tried to be conscious of the cost. But still! It was so much fun and such a sweet thoughtful gesture.
I got a gorgeous A-line wrap dress at Ann Taylor (my all time favorite store!) that Scott picked out for me. It's the perfect thing to wear to Beckett's baptism. I also got a very feminine sweater and a sharp wrap blouse that I can't wait to wear. I need to lose a few more pounds before it looks perfect, but what a great incentive to move quickly on that front.
I also got a softy-soft sweater from The Gap, some sexy heels from 9 West, a blouse, a book, some Aveda Comforting Tea, and Aveda Hand and Foot Lotion.
It was, hands-down, one of the best birthdays ever. Not because of the clothes. That wasn't the real gift, though it's a luxury I appreciate deeply. It was awesome because I got to spend it with Scott who acted as my personal shopper and focused solely on me for the three hours we shopped while he helped me pick out things that flattered my body and indulged my desire to feel like a beautiful, sexy, complete woman and not just a sweatpants-wearing, minivan-driving mama.
I am a lucky, lucky woman to be loved. In this way. By this man.
37 rocks.
Friday, December 22, 2006
These Are Days
Exhausted. Crazed. Bi-Polar even.
The last 16 days have flown by, shrouded by a veil of tears, fear, sickness, and a brutal burst of sleep deprivation.
It would be so easy to focus on the negative emotions I'm feeling right now. The baby blues are a bitch anyway, but add the bruising winds of outside forces to the gale, and boy... It can sure seem like God or someone else has pulled the rug out from under you and you're lying ass over elbows up to your neck in the mire.
Now, all that said I just want to say how thankful I am to have such incredible friends right now. We have had meals brought to us every night for the last week by friends from my MOMS Club. My friend Laura came and cleaned my kitchen, vacuumed, folded laundry, and watched the boys while I ran to CVS.
Our friends the Foleys went to the drugstore for more Pepto and Jello in the midst of Brendan's stomach virus this week. They had also offered to have Brendan come over for a playdate with their little boy before he got sick.
My friend Susan has outdone herself with her graciousness. She has taken Brendan to her home for several playdates, taken him to a puppet show, brought us dinner three times, and went to the grocery for me when Brendan first got sick this week. Amazing.
Another friend, Jennifer, also cleaned my kitchen when she brought us dinner. She and Lucy (of the Foleys) also offered to help decorate my Christmas tree when I was in tears because we weren't going to have a tree.
I feel so blessed to have such an amazing group of friends, most of whom I barely knew a year ago.
I wonder, when I look back how I will remember this Christmas, the year my darling baby boy was born. Will it be the worst? The one where my son didn't gain weight and the stresses of life started pulling at the seams of my joy? Or will it be one of the best? The one where friendships were sealed, where love was made stronger by being forged in the flame of a difficult situation?
I wish my crystal ball weren't broken. I wish I knew. Right now, my heart says it's the latter and I simply have to trust my heart.
The last 16 days have flown by, shrouded by a veil of tears, fear, sickness, and a brutal burst of sleep deprivation.
It would be so easy to focus on the negative emotions I'm feeling right now. The baby blues are a bitch anyway, but add the bruising winds of outside forces to the gale, and boy... It can sure seem like God or someone else has pulled the rug out from under you and you're lying ass over elbows up to your neck in the mire.
Now, all that said I just want to say how thankful I am to have such incredible friends right now. We have had meals brought to us every night for the last week by friends from my MOMS Club. My friend Laura came and cleaned my kitchen, vacuumed, folded laundry, and watched the boys while I ran to CVS.
Our friends the Foleys went to the drugstore for more Pepto and Jello in the midst of Brendan's stomach virus this week. They had also offered to have Brendan come over for a playdate with their little boy before he got sick.
My friend Susan has outdone herself with her graciousness. She has taken Brendan to her home for several playdates, taken him to a puppet show, brought us dinner three times, and went to the grocery for me when Brendan first got sick this week. Amazing.
Another friend, Jennifer, also cleaned my kitchen when she brought us dinner. She and Lucy (of the Foleys) also offered to help decorate my Christmas tree when I was in tears because we weren't going to have a tree.
I feel so blessed to have such an amazing group of friends, most of whom I barely knew a year ago.
I wonder, when I look back how I will remember this Christmas, the year my darling baby boy was born. Will it be the worst? The one where my son didn't gain weight and the stresses of life started pulling at the seams of my joy? Or will it be one of the best? The one where friendships were sealed, where love was made stronger by being forged in the flame of a difficult situation?
I wish my crystal ball weren't broken. I wish I knew. Right now, my heart says it's the latter and I simply have to trust my heart.
Friday, December 8, 2006
Welcome to the World!
Beckett Dylan surfed into the world at 2:18 p.m. on Wednesday, December 6. He weighed 7 lbs, 12 oz. (exactly the same size as his big brother) and was 20 inches long.
He's gorgeous, if I do say so myself, and amazing. He's a world of difference from his brother. He has slept a lot so far, although I haven't. I have a weird sort of insomnia where I can't relax when I should.
The labor and delivery were amazingly fast and trouble-free. I went in Wednesday morning for my weekly check and learned that I was leaking fluid and was already at 4 cm dilation. Next thing I know, it's "Go directly to the hospital, do not pass Go, do not collect $200."
I arrived at the hospital at 11:25, at 11:45 they had me hooked up to a Pitocin drip. At first the contractions were very mild, but with every incremental increase in the Pitocin, the contractions became much more intense and by 1:30 when Judith, my midwife, checked me, I was at 6 cm. She told me it would be about two hours until I was ready to deliver, one hour if were lucky.
Just then, the contractions really started to go into overdrive. I was beginning to freak out, but Judith and Scott and our nurse, Missy, just kept telling me how wonderful I was doing. Scott was sitting on the bed behind me, rubbing my shoulders and back while Judith massaged my legs. I kind of started to lose it and could tell I was entering transition when I suddenly felt like I might need to push. I told Judith and she checked me and I was 9 cm. Thirty minutes had passed since she last checked me and I was at 6 cm. They quickly broke the bed down and got me on my back and the fun began.
Roughly four pushes and Beckett came flying into the world. He immediately began grabbing everything he could get his hands on. It took forever for me to deliver the placenta and my midwife had just paged the OB when it decided to come out. So, it seemed like I couldn't hold my darling for an eternity, but it was very cool because they did all the baby exam stuff right in the room instead of taking him to the nursery.
He barely cried and still has only cried two or three times, once when he was hungry and once with a tummy ache.
I love him. Naturally, I do. But, I am just so happy about the way he came into the world and our first few days together. He's nursing like a champ and even though my milk isn't in fully, he's trying hard to help me get it in. It's so different than my first few with Brendan. I just feel far happier and more confident in my abilities.
Really, all I can say is that I'm relieved that he's finally here and happy he's such a wonderful baby two days into the journey.
He's gorgeous, if I do say so myself, and amazing. He's a world of difference from his brother. He has slept a lot so far, although I haven't. I have a weird sort of insomnia where I can't relax when I should.
The labor and delivery were amazingly fast and trouble-free. I went in Wednesday morning for my weekly check and learned that I was leaking fluid and was already at 4 cm dilation. Next thing I know, it's "Go directly to the hospital, do not pass Go, do not collect $200."
I arrived at the hospital at 11:25, at 11:45 they had me hooked up to a Pitocin drip. At first the contractions were very mild, but with every incremental increase in the Pitocin, the contractions became much more intense and by 1:30 when Judith, my midwife, checked me, I was at 6 cm. She told me it would be about two hours until I was ready to deliver, one hour if were lucky.
Just then, the contractions really started to go into overdrive. I was beginning to freak out, but Judith and Scott and our nurse, Missy, just kept telling me how wonderful I was doing. Scott was sitting on the bed behind me, rubbing my shoulders and back while Judith massaged my legs. I kind of started to lose it and could tell I was entering transition when I suddenly felt like I might need to push. I told Judith and she checked me and I was 9 cm. Thirty minutes had passed since she last checked me and I was at 6 cm. They quickly broke the bed down and got me on my back and the fun began.
Roughly four pushes and Beckett came flying into the world. He immediately began grabbing everything he could get his hands on. It took forever for me to deliver the placenta and my midwife had just paged the OB when it decided to come out. So, it seemed like I couldn't hold my darling for an eternity, but it was very cool because they did all the baby exam stuff right in the room instead of taking him to the nursery.
He barely cried and still has only cried two or three times, once when he was hungry and once with a tummy ache.
I love him. Naturally, I do. But, I am just so happy about the way he came into the world and our first few days together. He's nursing like a champ and even though my milk isn't in fully, he's trying hard to help me get it in. It's so different than my first few with Brendan. I just feel far happier and more confident in my abilities.
Really, all I can say is that I'm relieved that he's finally here and happy he's such a wonderful baby two days into the journey.
Monday, December 4, 2006
Beautiful Wreck
Saturday was a great day! Scott, Brendan, and I attended two parties together, a birthday party in the morning and then the MOMS Club Christmas party around dinner time. After that, we brought Brendan home and left him with his favorite babysitter and went to a wonderful grown-up Christmas party at the Tula Galleries. The party was hosted by our friends Mark and Ginny and their friend Melanie and was a benefit for Toys for Tots.
The party was great. It was so nice to put on a pretty dress and heels and feel like a woman, instead of someone's mom. I was shocked and flattered by the number of compliments I received from total strangers. Several people told me I was beautiful and glowing. It was really, really nice. And totally unexpected.
Of course, it would be wonderful if that feeling could last. By yesterday I was back into my spiral of anxiety. I have worried about everything from money (I'm being blown off by my editor at ADL again) to how to care for a newborn to how having a newborn is going to affect my sanity and marriage to Brendan's reaction. It's non-stop. The only time I let go of my negative thinking was while Scott and I watched Prime Suspect 7 and The Wire. Within 15 minutes of starting The Wire, I fell asleep, but woke for the second half of it. But when I got in bed, my mind wouldn't stop. Finally, Scott suggested self-hypnosis and walked me through a relaxation exercise. In minutes I was fast asleep. I used the same technique again when I awoke with ligament pain at 4:00 a.m.
At the moment, I realize there's not a lot I can do about any of this. I have to take everything a day at a time. Maybe even a moment at a time. I'm hoping that all the tears I've shed the last few days can be attributed to a hormonal shift as my body gets ready to deliver this baby. I never felt like this while carrying Brendan but fell apart following his delivery, so hopefully, I'll be happier and more stable following this birth.
If nothing else, I will have to hold it together in order to help Brendan with his transition. Last night he overheard his dad talking to MeMe about the logistics of when she should get here and where she should go, etc. He started freaking out and saying that he didn't want her to come, he wanted to stay with his dad if I wasn't here. He asked me, "Mommy, who is going to protect me?"
It just killed me. All I could do was hold him and cry silently. After holding him and thinking he was okay, I stood up to go cook supper and he started wailing and sobbing, clinging at me. Again, I just held him and walked around with him. It took around 20 minutes for him to settle down. I just feel awful for doing this to him.
I know he'll get over it and in the end he'll be so blessed to have a brother. But as a mother, it breaks my heart to see him so scared and upset. And I know exactly how he feels.
Scott gave me some wonderful advice. He reminded me of how his first few days at his new job were really difficult for him. He reminded me that he couldn't eat and had to throw up because he was so upset that he wouldn't have as much time to spend with Brendan. He thinks that I'm going through the same thing and reminded me that although he was right, it has worked out. He makes the most of the time he does have with Brendan and Brendan seems happier and closer to his dad than ever.
So, I guess our weekend -- like the rest of life -- was filled with joy and sadness. Ultimately, it's all good. Simply life, rich and full.
The party was great. It was so nice to put on a pretty dress and heels and feel like a woman, instead of someone's mom. I was shocked and flattered by the number of compliments I received from total strangers. Several people told me I was beautiful and glowing. It was really, really nice. And totally unexpected.
Of course, it would be wonderful if that feeling could last. By yesterday I was back into my spiral of anxiety. I have worried about everything from money (I'm being blown off by my editor at ADL again) to how to care for a newborn to how having a newborn is going to affect my sanity and marriage to Brendan's reaction. It's non-stop. The only time I let go of my negative thinking was while Scott and I watched Prime Suspect 7 and The Wire. Within 15 minutes of starting The Wire, I fell asleep, but woke for the second half of it. But when I got in bed, my mind wouldn't stop. Finally, Scott suggested self-hypnosis and walked me through a relaxation exercise. In minutes I was fast asleep. I used the same technique again when I awoke with ligament pain at 4:00 a.m.
At the moment, I realize there's not a lot I can do about any of this. I have to take everything a day at a time. Maybe even a moment at a time. I'm hoping that all the tears I've shed the last few days can be attributed to a hormonal shift as my body gets ready to deliver this baby. I never felt like this while carrying Brendan but fell apart following his delivery, so hopefully, I'll be happier and more stable following this birth.
If nothing else, I will have to hold it together in order to help Brendan with his transition. Last night he overheard his dad talking to MeMe about the logistics of when she should get here and where she should go, etc. He started freaking out and saying that he didn't want her to come, he wanted to stay with his dad if I wasn't here. He asked me, "Mommy, who is going to protect me?"
It just killed me. All I could do was hold him and cry silently. After holding him and thinking he was okay, I stood up to go cook supper and he started wailing and sobbing, clinging at me. Again, I just held him and walked around with him. It took around 20 minutes for him to settle down. I just feel awful for doing this to him.
I know he'll get over it and in the end he'll be so blessed to have a brother. But as a mother, it breaks my heart to see him so scared and upset. And I know exactly how he feels.
Scott gave me some wonderful advice. He reminded me of how his first few days at his new job were really difficult for him. He reminded me that he couldn't eat and had to throw up because he was so upset that he wouldn't have as much time to spend with Brendan. He thinks that I'm going through the same thing and reminded me that although he was right, it has worked out. He makes the most of the time he does have with Brendan and Brendan seems happier and closer to his dad than ever.
So, I guess our weekend -- like the rest of life -- was filled with joy and sadness. Ultimately, it's all good. Simply life, rich and full.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
My Angel
I was told at my midwife appointment last Wednesday that if I haven't gone into labor on my own by the following Wednesday they will strip my membranes. Sounds like fun stuff. Given that warning, we've been trying to kick start labor ourselves the last few days. I've eaten more than my share of Thai curry, Mexican, and egglpant. We've walked. I've drunk raspberry leaf tea. And still nothing so far. Yet, we know that it will be relatively soon and I think Brendan knows, too, though we haven't been real specific with him.
It seems like ever since that appointment, Brendan has been on a crusade to be as cute as possible. Sadly, I can't even remember half the funny, wise, and profound things that have slipped off his tongue. But there have been several things.
Yesterday, as we were driving home from his friend Lyle's birthday party, Brendan says from the backseat, "It's wonderful to relax in the sun with a lollipop."
This morning in the kitchen he asked me if Mao, our orange tabby cat was a girl. Of course, he knows that Mao is a boy cat, but said he wished Mao were a girl because as he put it, "Mommy, you need a girl you can talk to and we're all boys." It was all I could do not to cry. I've never said anything to him about that, but it was so sensitive and perceptive of him. I have been feeling a very strong need for someone I can talk to about something specific, and obviously a baby daughter would not be what I need at all, but strange that he chose that turn of phrase.
I'm sure he's feeling some anxiety on part of me and Scott and knows something is going to happen soon. He has told us he loves us repeatedly (and happily), but has also asked us if we love him, which gives me pause. Still, he seems pretty happy and has been very well-behaved lately, aside from refusing to apologize to his dad for throwing something at him when he was angry one night. That aside, he has been behaving very well and has just been so easy the last week or so.
It has been enough to make me think it might not be so hard. I imagine I'm kidding myself. I remember how hard it was with just a single newborn. Mostly because I felt so isolated and jealous of my husband for getting to go out into the real world. I remember how much I hated my body for not doing what I wanted it to do...for not producing the milk needed to sustain my baby...for not shedding the weight I put on while pregnant. I imagine that feeling of jealousy will be exacerbated this time and my depression deeper, though I hope not. I'm afraid of not having any time to exercise or the wherewithal to prepare healthy foods for myself and family. I know what grand ambitions I had last time and they all fell through as I fell into a spiral of hopelessness. This time I have no such grand plans. I just want to survive and thrive.
I hope I can just focus on my new baby boy and his darling big brother and get through.
It seems like ever since that appointment, Brendan has been on a crusade to be as cute as possible. Sadly, I can't even remember half the funny, wise, and profound things that have slipped off his tongue. But there have been several things.
Yesterday, as we were driving home from his friend Lyle's birthday party, Brendan says from the backseat, "It's wonderful to relax in the sun with a lollipop."
This morning in the kitchen he asked me if Mao, our orange tabby cat was a girl. Of course, he knows that Mao is a boy cat, but said he wished Mao were a girl because as he put it, "Mommy, you need a girl you can talk to and we're all boys." It was all I could do not to cry. I've never said anything to him about that, but it was so sensitive and perceptive of him. I have been feeling a very strong need for someone I can talk to about something specific, and obviously a baby daughter would not be what I need at all, but strange that he chose that turn of phrase.
I'm sure he's feeling some anxiety on part of me and Scott and knows something is going to happen soon. He has told us he loves us repeatedly (and happily), but has also asked us if we love him, which gives me pause. Still, he seems pretty happy and has been very well-behaved lately, aside from refusing to apologize to his dad for throwing something at him when he was angry one night. That aside, he has been behaving very well and has just been so easy the last week or so.
It has been enough to make me think it might not be so hard. I imagine I'm kidding myself. I remember how hard it was with just a single newborn. Mostly because I felt so isolated and jealous of my husband for getting to go out into the real world. I remember how much I hated my body for not doing what I wanted it to do...for not producing the milk needed to sustain my baby...for not shedding the weight I put on while pregnant. I imagine that feeling of jealousy will be exacerbated this time and my depression deeper, though I hope not. I'm afraid of not having any time to exercise or the wherewithal to prepare healthy foods for myself and family. I know what grand ambitions I had last time and they all fell through as I fell into a spiral of hopelessness. This time I have no such grand plans. I just want to survive and thrive.
I hope I can just focus on my new baby boy and his darling big brother and get through.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Home is Where the Heart Is
It occured to me today -- as it does every so often -- that I have lived in Atlanta for as long as I lived in the small Tennessee town where I grew up. It brought me to the question of where is home? I used to think of Nashville as my home, but I haven't lived there since I was 18. The longest period I lived in Tennessee since leaving for college was for one three-month semester break in 1989. When I went back there for my mother's funeral in 2001, I felt like the proverbial stranger in a strange land. All that was left for me there were memories, some good, some bad, but nothing tangible I could hold on to or ever think about going home to again.
Here, in Atlanta, I have a life that I built for myself and in conjunction with a wonderful partner. We have created our own traditions, and now that we have a child (and another to be here any time now), we continue to find ourselves creating new ones all the time.
I can't really think of any traditions my family established when I was a child. Isn't that weird? And sad?
But the things we're doing, the rituals we're claiming as our own are so special and exciting to me that they more than make up for anything I was lacking. And really, they're little things that I never even thought of as becoming traditions.... Going to the same Christmas tree lot where kids from our neighborhood work and picking out our tree each year; going to Rich's (Macy's) Lenox Mall and riding the Pink Pig before Christmas; spending every Christmas Eve with our family, going to Mass, then coming home to stay up all night putting presents together and out under the tree.
They're small things. But things that I hope will help create a foundation of love and meaning in our children's lives, and in our own.
I look forward to learning what new traditions we'll create. What our boys will come up with on their own as the years pass. Which they will embrace and which will fade out over time.
Home is where the heart is. My heart is here, in Atlanta, Georgia, with Scott, Brendan, and Beckett, where it was always meant to be.
Here, in Atlanta, I have a life that I built for myself and in conjunction with a wonderful partner. We have created our own traditions, and now that we have a child (and another to be here any time now), we continue to find ourselves creating new ones all the time.
I can't really think of any traditions my family established when I was a child. Isn't that weird? And sad?
But the things we're doing, the rituals we're claiming as our own are so special and exciting to me that they more than make up for anything I was lacking. And really, they're little things that I never even thought of as becoming traditions.... Going to the same Christmas tree lot where kids from our neighborhood work and picking out our tree each year; going to Rich's (Macy's) Lenox Mall and riding the Pink Pig before Christmas; spending every Christmas Eve with our family, going to Mass, then coming home to stay up all night putting presents together and out under the tree.
They're small things. But things that I hope will help create a foundation of love and meaning in our children's lives, and in our own.
I look forward to learning what new traditions we'll create. What our boys will come up with on their own as the years pass. Which they will embrace and which will fade out over time.
Home is where the heart is. My heart is here, in Atlanta, Georgia, with Scott, Brendan, and Beckett, where it was always meant to be.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Thanks for the Pepperoni
I had aspirations of putting into words everything I am grateful for in my life on Thanksgiving morning. Somehow, between everyone in our house having terrible colds and getting ready to go to our friends' house for dinner and having out of town guests, I never got around to it. But, I think any time is the right time to count your blessings. Especially when you feel like crap and need a pick me up.
First and foremost, I am grateful to be alive. To have a wonderful family and good friends. I am thankful that friends we have known only a short time cared enough about us to invite us into their home for Thanksgiving when we couldn't travel. I am thankful that I have a smart, sweet, beautiful little boy who tries hard to be good while also trying my patience and helping me grow every day. I am thankful and excited that I can give my son a brother and that soon I will have a second darling little boy to nurture and love.
I am grateful that Scott has a new job he loves and feels passionate and inspired about life again. I am grateful he's making some amazing music and making music a priority. I am grateful that I am married to such a loving, thoughtful, interesting man who is also a fun, tender, loving dad to our kid(s).
I am thankful that Brendan is recovering from his cough and cold despite fighting me every single time I try to give him his inhaler. I am thankful that he has friends and is learning and growing every day.
I am very grateful that we found Cooper, our dog, after he ran away yesterday. I am grateful he is still healthy and relatively happy at 10 years old. And I am grateful our little orange cat has decided he loves Brendan and sleeps with him at night.
And I am thankful, of course, for the hundreds of things we take for granted every day. Food on the table. A roof over our heads. Clothes on our back. Warmth. Safety. Healthcare. Health. A chance to serve others in some way. Freedom....to live, to be, to be a woman who has choices in life, to read what I want, be what I want, to associate with whomever I choose, when I choose.
Life is good. Even when your head feels like it might explode and all you want to do is go back to sleep.
First and foremost, I am grateful to be alive. To have a wonderful family and good friends. I am thankful that friends we have known only a short time cared enough about us to invite us into their home for Thanksgiving when we couldn't travel. I am thankful that I have a smart, sweet, beautiful little boy who tries hard to be good while also trying my patience and helping me grow every day. I am thankful and excited that I can give my son a brother and that soon I will have a second darling little boy to nurture and love.
I am grateful that Scott has a new job he loves and feels passionate and inspired about life again. I am grateful he's making some amazing music and making music a priority. I am grateful that I am married to such a loving, thoughtful, interesting man who is also a fun, tender, loving dad to our kid(s).
I am thankful that Brendan is recovering from his cough and cold despite fighting me every single time I try to give him his inhaler. I am thankful that he has friends and is learning and growing every day.
I am very grateful that we found Cooper, our dog, after he ran away yesterday. I am grateful he is still healthy and relatively happy at 10 years old. And I am grateful our little orange cat has decided he loves Brendan and sleeps with him at night.
And I am thankful, of course, for the hundreds of things we take for granted every day. Food on the table. A roof over our heads. Clothes on our back. Warmth. Safety. Healthcare. Health. A chance to serve others in some way. Freedom....to live, to be, to be a woman who has choices in life, to read what I want, be what I want, to associate with whomever I choose, when I choose.
Life is good. Even when your head feels like it might explode and all you want to do is go back to sleep.
Friday, November 17, 2006
9 Crimes
The new Damien Rice
single, 9 Crimes, slays me.
I want to fall into the floor, a puddle of sobs and heartbreak.
It really hits home right now for a long list of reasons I can't explain or don't want to. It's ninety-nine percent irrational of me to feel this way. But I can't stop myself.
I've heard this song at least 10 times since I first heard it on Conan last week, but every time, I still find myself in tears.
single, 9 Crimes, slays me. I want to fall into the floor, a puddle of sobs and heartbreak.
It really hits home right now for a long list of reasons I can't explain or don't want to. It's ninety-nine percent irrational of me to feel this way. But I can't stop myself.
I've heard this song at least 10 times since I first heard it on Conan last week, but every time, I still find myself in tears.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Don't Be an Idiot: Get Your Kids Immunized
Okay. I will be the first to admit that I don't trust pharmaceutical companies or the government to have the best interests of mankind at heart. That said, there are reasons that most of us don't spend our summers indoors hiding from one another anymore and why our infant mortality rate has declined and why killer diseases like smallpox have all but been eradicated. One of those reasons is vaccines.
I'm not a fan of all the combined vaccines or giving 2-month old babies four shots at the same time in the same leg or of giving a newborn baby a vaccine for a sexually contracted disease. However, I think there are better ways to look after your child's well-being than not having your child immunized at all. I did ask our pediatrician to delay the Hep-B vaccine and to only give my child one or two vaccinations at a time. I even looked into having him break-up the MMR into three separate shots. I understand looking at the system and routine practices with caution.
I do not understand putting your child's life and THE LIVES OF OTHERS at risk by not immunizing your children. It's utterly irresponsible and a way of saying to society at large, fuck you!
I am pissed right now because there's a 3-month old little girl lying in a hospital bed in Montgomery, Alabama right now, struggling for every breath because some idiot probably didn't have their child immunized. against pertussis. Or because some adult who has been around her, like 99% of the rest of us, has not had an adult booster for whooping cough because no one ever thought we'd need one. Why? Because the disease should have been eradicated by now.
I am also pissed because my mother-in-law, who is supposed to come help us look after Brendan when I have the new baby sometime between now and the next three weeks or so, held that little girl just five days ago. Right before she was diagnosed with whooping cough. Her parents thought she had a cold. She wouldn't stop crying and my kind mother-in-law who has mad baby whispering powers held her to help the poor mother out. Well, now if I go into labor, my mother-in-law can't come over here.
The incubation period for pertussis is anywhere from 7-21 days. We can go almost all the way up to my due date before we know for sure if our MeMe contracted it. My hope is that her doctor can and will start her on a prophylactic course of antibiotics when she goes to see him today. Still, it will be in the back of my mind when she comes here. All because of the story I read about a year ago of a woman who was exposed to whooping cough while pregnant and gave it to her newborn when he was born. He lived less than three weeks as a result.
Damn it, People! It's not like these diseases don't exist anymore just because we have the relative fortune of low rates of them in the U.S. Have you failed to notice the number of immigrants and illegals coming into our country every day? Do you think Guatemala has a really awesome healthcare system for migrant workers and is immunizing all its residents against every communicable disease?
If you don't immunize your kids, you are putting my child's life in danger. Or my life. Or my elderly grandmother's life. You don't have that right. I don't care how many piles of paper printed off the fucking Internet you have that show some correlation between the MMR vaccine, thimerosol (which, by the way is not used anymore except in a very few instances), and the rise of autism. I can print an equal number of pieces of paper showing that researches think there is a genetic connection. Signs of autism are apparent as early as three months if you know what to look for and that's long before your child has received most of his or her vaccinations.
I understand your desire to protect your child. But you can't just pick and choose what you're protecting them from, a brain disorder (that really you have very little control over) or a communicable disease that you can do something about.
Just, please, don't be an idiot. Sure, think about. Ask your doc to space the shots and not give more than one or two at the same time so you can figure out what may have caused a specific reaction. But don't just let your children run loose without being immunized. Then, you're putting all of our lives in danger.
I'm not a fan of all the combined vaccines or giving 2-month old babies four shots at the same time in the same leg or of giving a newborn baby a vaccine for a sexually contracted disease. However, I think there are better ways to look after your child's well-being than not having your child immunized at all. I did ask our pediatrician to delay the Hep-B vaccine and to only give my child one or two vaccinations at a time. I even looked into having him break-up the MMR into three separate shots. I understand looking at the system and routine practices with caution.
I do not understand putting your child's life and THE LIVES OF OTHERS at risk by not immunizing your children. It's utterly irresponsible and a way of saying to society at large, fuck you!
I am pissed right now because there's a 3-month old little girl lying in a hospital bed in Montgomery, Alabama right now, struggling for every breath because some idiot probably didn't have their child immunized. against pertussis. Or because some adult who has been around her, like 99% of the rest of us, has not had an adult booster for whooping cough because no one ever thought we'd need one. Why? Because the disease should have been eradicated by now.
I am also pissed because my mother-in-law, who is supposed to come help us look after Brendan when I have the new baby sometime between now and the next three weeks or so, held that little girl just five days ago. Right before she was diagnosed with whooping cough. Her parents thought she had a cold. She wouldn't stop crying and my kind mother-in-law who has mad baby whispering powers held her to help the poor mother out. Well, now if I go into labor, my mother-in-law can't come over here.
The incubation period for pertussis is anywhere from 7-21 days. We can go almost all the way up to my due date before we know for sure if our MeMe contracted it. My hope is that her doctor can and will start her on a prophylactic course of antibiotics when she goes to see him today. Still, it will be in the back of my mind when she comes here. All because of the story I read about a year ago of a woman who was exposed to whooping cough while pregnant and gave it to her newborn when he was born. He lived less than three weeks as a result.
Damn it, People! It's not like these diseases don't exist anymore just because we have the relative fortune of low rates of them in the U.S. Have you failed to notice the number of immigrants and illegals coming into our country every day? Do you think Guatemala has a really awesome healthcare system for migrant workers and is immunizing all its residents against every communicable disease?
If you don't immunize your kids, you are putting my child's life in danger. Or my life. Or my elderly grandmother's life. You don't have that right. I don't care how many piles of paper printed off the fucking Internet you have that show some correlation between the MMR vaccine, thimerosol (which, by the way is not used anymore except in a very few instances), and the rise of autism. I can print an equal number of pieces of paper showing that researches think there is a genetic connection. Signs of autism are apparent as early as three months if you know what to look for and that's long before your child has received most of his or her vaccinations.
I understand your desire to protect your child. But you can't just pick and choose what you're protecting them from, a brain disorder (that really you have very little control over) or a communicable disease that you can do something about.
Just, please, don't be an idiot. Sure, think about. Ask your doc to space the shots and not give more than one or two at the same time so you can figure out what may have caused a specific reaction. But don't just let your children run loose without being immunized. Then, you're putting all of our lives in danger.
Monday, October 23, 2006
My Evil Twin
Okay. So, I'm just going to chalk my last insanity-laden post up to pregnancy hormones and the fact that I was coming down with a cold. And lack of sleep.
I don't want anyone thinking I would actually leave my husband and child. God knows I love them more than anything and life without them would truly be meaningless for me. This is what I've always wanted.
I just feel overwhelmed. And confused because I need to integrate the mommy-me with the other parts of me. And I"m not always very good at that. Other times, it feels seamless.
Brendan had been sleeping like a champ, but with a cold of his own and a couple of naps thrown in, his great sleeping pattern went to hell in a handbasket last week. There were at least two nights toward the end of last week where I only garnered four or five hours of sleep in between getting up with him, trying to sleep in his bed, and getting up to pee every couple of hours.
Getting a sitter Saturday night and going out to dinner with friends and not talking about our kids did help. A lot. So did sleeping until 9:00 a.m. on Saturday morning. Brendan actually woke us up at 7:00 as usual, but was happy to let me put PBS kids on the tv in our room and watch that and play in his room until I was ready to get up. Yesterday, I felt horrible, though, and ended up taking a two-hour nap while Brendan napped and Scott walked Cooper and watched the Falcons game.
Actually realizng that I was sick, running a fever, and then having Scott take such wonderful care of me and Brendan yesterday, made a huge difference. Just knowing that there's a reason why I've felt so blah lets me know that this too shall pass.
So, though I still physically feel like crap, mentally, things are a little better. I've made a list of all I need to do before Deuce arrives, i.e. in the next 4-7 weeks. I've checked one off the list already today. I enjoyed an evening with my husband and friends and have hired a sitter for next weekend so we can enjoy dinner and a movie. I spoke with the client who owes me money and found out she has mailed my check. I'm working with Scott on some logo designs. And then, I read this, which really gives me hope. Hope that one day Scott and I will have the freedom to travel together, alone, with our kids, or with other friends and their families. In fact, I forgot that we've already talked with one of our best friends about renting a house with him and his family for a week next summer, either at the beach or in the mountains.
I really think I've been anticipating the sense of isolation I felt after Brendan was born and forgetting that it doesn't have to be that way this time. Babyhood is brief and as Scott and I discovered going to the beach with Brendan this summer, even travel with the kids is better than going nowhere. Plus, it's an opportunity to see the world through their unusual point of view.
What a difference a little sleep and someone else's perspective can make.
I don't want anyone thinking I would actually leave my husband and child. God knows I love them more than anything and life without them would truly be meaningless for me. This is what I've always wanted.
I just feel overwhelmed. And confused because I need to integrate the mommy-me with the other parts of me. And I"m not always very good at that. Other times, it feels seamless.
Brendan had been sleeping like a champ, but with a cold of his own and a couple of naps thrown in, his great sleeping pattern went to hell in a handbasket last week. There were at least two nights toward the end of last week where I only garnered four or five hours of sleep in between getting up with him, trying to sleep in his bed, and getting up to pee every couple of hours.
Getting a sitter Saturday night and going out to dinner with friends and not talking about our kids did help. A lot. So did sleeping until 9:00 a.m. on Saturday morning. Brendan actually woke us up at 7:00 as usual, but was happy to let me put PBS kids on the tv in our room and watch that and play in his room until I was ready to get up. Yesterday, I felt horrible, though, and ended up taking a two-hour nap while Brendan napped and Scott walked Cooper and watched the Falcons game.
Actually realizng that I was sick, running a fever, and then having Scott take such wonderful care of me and Brendan yesterday, made a huge difference. Just knowing that there's a reason why I've felt so blah lets me know that this too shall pass.
So, though I still physically feel like crap, mentally, things are a little better. I've made a list of all I need to do before Deuce arrives, i.e. in the next 4-7 weeks. I've checked one off the list already today. I enjoyed an evening with my husband and friends and have hired a sitter for next weekend so we can enjoy dinner and a movie. I spoke with the client who owes me money and found out she has mailed my check. I'm working with Scott on some logo designs. And then, I read this, which really gives me hope. Hope that one day Scott and I will have the freedom to travel together, alone, with our kids, or with other friends and their families. In fact, I forgot that we've already talked with one of our best friends about renting a house with him and his family for a week next summer, either at the beach or in the mountains.
I really think I've been anticipating the sense of isolation I felt after Brendan was born and forgetting that it doesn't have to be that way this time. Babyhood is brief and as Scott and I discovered going to the beach with Brendan this summer, even travel with the kids is better than going nowhere. Plus, it's an opportunity to see the world through their unusual point of view.
What a difference a little sleep and someone else's perspective can make.
Friday, October 20, 2006
Endless Numbered Days
Midlife crisis? Identity crisis? Pregnancy? Just being me?
I feel like I'm being tossed about in a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts, desires, and choices. Though in reality, the choices really are limited by my own fear and inertia and compulsion to do the right thing. Or at least what I think is the right thing.
I really thought that being a wife and stay-at-home mom was my destiny, at least for some period of my life. But it really isn't turning out to be my forte. I mean, I thought I'd love this and be very good at it. However, in all honesty, I just can't quite get it together.
I really don't enjoy playing. When I do sit down to play with my son, I have trouble being in the moment. I'm thinking about the twenty other things I need to do.
I hate what pregnancy and childbirth did to my body.
I hate having such limited time for myself and my husband.
I hate that my husband and I will never get to go on a trip alone again.
I am very jealous of my friends who have parents who keep their children for them so they can get away once in a while.
I am angry that my mother-in-law keeps my brother-in-law's kids for a whole week twice a year while they go on vacation, but has never once kept our son overnight even when we have asked her to.
I hate that my brain feels like mush much of the time and even when I do get to be around other adults, they're usually women who want to talk about their kids.
I hate that I have no male friends with whom I get to interact on a regular basis.
I want to run away. And I feel terribly guilty for feeling that way.
I feel horrible and selfish for feeling the way I do because I know how incredibly lucky I am.
I love my husband and son(s) more than life itself. It feels like a betrayal of them to have these feelings.
I feel like I don't really know who I am, what I want from life, or how to figure it all out.
I worry that it's too late. A lot.
I want to take control of my life and change, but I can't quite figure out how.
If anyone knows the answers, I welcome your input.
I feel like I'm being tossed about in a whirlpool of conflicting thoughts, desires, and choices. Though in reality, the choices really are limited by my own fear and inertia and compulsion to do the right thing. Or at least what I think is the right thing.
I really thought that being a wife and stay-at-home mom was my destiny, at least for some period of my life. But it really isn't turning out to be my forte. I mean, I thought I'd love this and be very good at it. However, in all honesty, I just can't quite get it together.
I really don't enjoy playing. When I do sit down to play with my son, I have trouble being in the moment. I'm thinking about the twenty other things I need to do.
I hate what pregnancy and childbirth did to my body.
I hate having such limited time for myself and my husband.
I hate that my husband and I will never get to go on a trip alone again.
I am very jealous of my friends who have parents who keep their children for them so they can get away once in a while.
I am angry that my mother-in-law keeps my brother-in-law's kids for a whole week twice a year while they go on vacation, but has never once kept our son overnight even when we have asked her to.
I hate that my brain feels like mush much of the time and even when I do get to be around other adults, they're usually women who want to talk about their kids.
I hate that I have no male friends with whom I get to interact on a regular basis.
I want to run away. And I feel terribly guilty for feeling that way.
I feel horrible and selfish for feeling the way I do because I know how incredibly lucky I am.
I love my husband and son(s) more than life itself. It feels like a betrayal of them to have these feelings.
I feel like I don't really know who I am, what I want from life, or how to figure it all out.
I worry that it's too late. A lot.
I want to take control of my life and change, but I can't quite figure out how.
If anyone knows the answers, I welcome your input.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Like School on Saturday
I finally talked to Scott's stepmother. It's only been five months since she threw Brendan and me out of her house.
She called to say that she really cares about us and feels bad that she let things go so long without us talking. She never apologized for her behavior. She never apologized for criticizing my child or my parenting. It was awkward. But, I bit my tongue.
Scott and his dad have actually talked a few times in the last month and his dad has been very gracious and supportive about Scott's music. I see that their relationship is moving forward and I am willing to bite my tongue and do what I need to do to have a relationship with the stepmother so that Scott can have a relationship with his dad.
Of course, I'm worried about my children. I would love for them to have a wonderful and loving relationship with their grandparents, especially since I have no parents to bring to the table, as it were. I simply don't know if that will ever be possible with Scott's stepmother. Until this summer, I thought it was. But my trust with her has been corrupted.
And it doesn't help matters that she has zero tact. She has repeatedly made comments about my mother's alcoholism. My mother was practically a tea-totaller. I think I saw her drink twice in my life. She had many problems, but alcoholism was not one of them.
Her other favorite topic is my weight. I'm not really that big, though I am considerably larger than my stepmother-in-law. She literally weighs about 98 lbs. and is probably 5'5" or so. Skeletal comes to mind as the perfect description of her.
Naturally, she asked me during our conversation yesterday if I was as big as you got with Brendan. Wow! What composure it took not to hang up. I did choke on shocked laughter before I could answer her. Who asks a question like that?
I don't know what to do. I don't want to have to deal with this woman, but really, what choice do I have? I don't want to be the bitch who comes between a man and his dad. But, I don't know how long I can keep my feelings inside.
Maybe it's hormones, but today has been hellish and I feel like talking to Julie just opened up an emotional floodgate that I didn't need right now. But, hey! Here I am. I'll just have to wake up and hope tomorrow is a better day.
She called to say that she really cares about us and feels bad that she let things go so long without us talking. She never apologized for her behavior. She never apologized for criticizing my child or my parenting. It was awkward. But, I bit my tongue.
Scott and his dad have actually talked a few times in the last month and his dad has been very gracious and supportive about Scott's music. I see that their relationship is moving forward and I am willing to bite my tongue and do what I need to do to have a relationship with the stepmother so that Scott can have a relationship with his dad.
Of course, I'm worried about my children. I would love for them to have a wonderful and loving relationship with their grandparents, especially since I have no parents to bring to the table, as it were. I simply don't know if that will ever be possible with Scott's stepmother. Until this summer, I thought it was. But my trust with her has been corrupted.
And it doesn't help matters that she has zero tact. She has repeatedly made comments about my mother's alcoholism. My mother was practically a tea-totaller. I think I saw her drink twice in my life. She had many problems, but alcoholism was not one of them.
Her other favorite topic is my weight. I'm not really that big, though I am considerably larger than my stepmother-in-law. She literally weighs about 98 lbs. and is probably 5'5" or so. Skeletal comes to mind as the perfect description of her.
Naturally, she asked me during our conversation yesterday if I was as big as you got with Brendan. Wow! What composure it took not to hang up. I did choke on shocked laughter before I could answer her. Who asks a question like that?
I don't know what to do. I don't want to have to deal with this woman, but really, what choice do I have? I don't want to be the bitch who comes between a man and his dad. But, I don't know how long I can keep my feelings inside.
Maybe it's hormones, but today has been hellish and I feel like talking to Julie just opened up an emotional floodgate that I didn't need right now. But, hey! Here I am. I'll just have to wake up and hope tomorrow is a better day.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Only the Lonely
As an only child, I continue grappling with the idea of being the parent to siblings...to the point that I fear my own biases will get in the way of my love for and treatment of these two boys.
My love for Brendan is so deep and beyond comprehension or description, that I can't get my mind around loving yet another human as much. Everyone I talk to and everything I read uses the same cliched verse, saying, your heart just expands to make room or the capacity to love is infinite.
And I'm sure it is. But that doesn't change the fact that Brendan will never again get the same level of attention and affection and doting on that he gets now. And our new little guy will never know the kind of one-on-one attention and devotion that Brendan has received. He'll always get the short-end of the stick...from a lack of intense one-on-one love and attention to hand-me-down clothes and toys to always having to share everything and never having anything that is just his. It just doesn't seem fair.
I know there has to be an upside. I know that when my mom died I craved having someone to share it with who was deeply and intrinsically part of me to go through it with. In a situation like that, I feel like friends and other relatives can only understand so much. So, in that case it would have been nice to have a sibling to share with. And I know that, in theory, they can be great friends with a common history that will bind them forever.
But that said, I know so many siblings who don't get along. There's jealousy and competitiveness and grudges over little things that happened when they were kids. As married adults, there are in-laws that don't get along with the siblings and vice versa resulting in bitter disputes between the siblings. And it all just seems horrible to me.
Why exactly did I want to put my son(s) through this? How is it that I can avoid these things? How can I teach them to love, respect, and value one another? Will the four-year (almost) age gap be an advantage or disadvantage in lessening sibling rivalry and fostering a close relationship? Will Brendan forgive me? Will our new baby even know the difference?
I suppose we'll find out soon enough.
My love for Brendan is so deep and beyond comprehension or description, that I can't get my mind around loving yet another human as much. Everyone I talk to and everything I read uses the same cliched verse, saying, your heart just expands to make room or the capacity to love is infinite.
And I'm sure it is. But that doesn't change the fact that Brendan will never again get the same level of attention and affection and doting on that he gets now. And our new little guy will never know the kind of one-on-one attention and devotion that Brendan has received. He'll always get the short-end of the stick...from a lack of intense one-on-one love and attention to hand-me-down clothes and toys to always having to share everything and never having anything that is just his. It just doesn't seem fair.
I know there has to be an upside. I know that when my mom died I craved having someone to share it with who was deeply and intrinsically part of me to go through it with. In a situation like that, I feel like friends and other relatives can only understand so much. So, in that case it would have been nice to have a sibling to share with. And I know that, in theory, they can be great friends with a common history that will bind them forever.
But that said, I know so many siblings who don't get along. There's jealousy and competitiveness and grudges over little things that happened when they were kids. As married adults, there are in-laws that don't get along with the siblings and vice versa resulting in bitter disputes between the siblings. And it all just seems horrible to me.
Why exactly did I want to put my son(s) through this? How is it that I can avoid these things? How can I teach them to love, respect, and value one another? Will the four-year (almost) age gap be an advantage or disadvantage in lessening sibling rivalry and fostering a close relationship? Will Brendan forgive me? Will our new baby even know the difference?
I suppose we'll find out soon enough.
Monday, October 9, 2006
Daylight
The last few weeks have flown by and life has left me little time to slow down and write. I can't remember when I last wrote here, but I know that in the time since I did, I have written four stories for Atlanta Dog Life, hosted a dinner party, painted the baby's room and set up the furniture in there, washed a ton of baby clothes, been sick at least twice, cared for a sick litle boy twice, and a sick husband once, had my mother-in-law visit, and thought I was going into preterm labor at least twice.
I've been a busy girl.
But here I am. Tired, oh so tired. Ginormous, though I have only gained around 25 lbs. so far (yay me!), and nervous.
I still have so much to do. I've just had my nose down focused on all the things I've been doing lately. The highlight of these activities was the tapas party Scott and I hosted for our neighborhood dinner club last week. It was so much fun. I really think everyone had a wonderful time, and I loved getting ready for it. We had such wonderful food. I made Duck Maduros, Mini-hamburgers with caramelized onions and smoked gouda, and had a Spanish cheese tray with three kinds of Spanish cheese and quince jelly, with Spanish olives. Our friends brought Greek meatballs and potatoes, a wonderful salad, oyster casserole, chicken satay and a delicious bruschetta, and Nigella Lawson's delicious chocolate pots.
The food was divine and we ended up having a great time with our friends. The next day, however, I was miserable. I could barely walk, I was having ligament pain and contractions. Not so good. By Sunday, I was much better.
But now that we've completed that obligation, and had a nice visit with my mother-in-law, I have to get serious about finishing the baby's room, packing my bag, and thinking about having this baby.
And I'm not sure I'm quite ready for that.
I've been a busy girl.
But here I am. Tired, oh so tired. Ginormous, though I have only gained around 25 lbs. so far (yay me!), and nervous.
I still have so much to do. I've just had my nose down focused on all the things I've been doing lately. The highlight of these activities was the tapas party Scott and I hosted for our neighborhood dinner club last week. It was so much fun. I really think everyone had a wonderful time, and I loved getting ready for it. We had such wonderful food. I made Duck Maduros, Mini-hamburgers with caramelized onions and smoked gouda, and had a Spanish cheese tray with three kinds of Spanish cheese and quince jelly, with Spanish olives. Our friends brought Greek meatballs and potatoes, a wonderful salad, oyster casserole, chicken satay and a delicious bruschetta, and Nigella Lawson's delicious chocolate pots
.The food was divine and we ended up having a great time with our friends. The next day, however, I was miserable. I could barely walk, I was having ligament pain and contractions. Not so good. By Sunday, I was much better.
But now that we've completed that obligation, and had a nice visit with my mother-in-law, I have to get serious about finishing the baby's room, packing my bag, and thinking about having this baby.
And I'm not sure I'm quite ready for that.
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