Baby Drunk

I don’t usually pull from my personal journaling for inspiration here, but this morning I woke up and wrote this, and thought it made sense to share here:

I feel utterly drunk with longing for our baby to be here.  I wake up early, and even though I’d love to drift back into peaceful sleep, my mind starts to wander into babyland and before I can stop it I’m picturing scenes like movie previews: Moon here, sleeping beside our bed, being breast-fed, changing her, clothing her, spending hours watching him sleep, which is all I feel like doing right now.  When the previews end, the main feature starts, and I plan our the day’s baby progress like I’m about to hop on a plane to Aruba - we’ll install the car seats - hooray!  we’ll tour the birthing center - finally! we’ll wash loads and loads of baby clothes, sheets and blankets - endless joy! How can I sleep when such excitement awaits me?

Drunk is exactly the word to describe this feeling, both because I never want it to end and I’m praying there’s no hangover.  This excitement and anticipation can’t last - surely I’ll stop springing out of bed once midnight feedings, changings and cryings begin.  But I do have this great sense that a very real and permanent excitement and joy is beginning and won’t stop ever - I’m becoming a parent.  I might not spring out of bed, ecstatic to be awake at 3:00am for the 3rd night in a row, but I’ll be getting out of bed to see her. him. our child. my baby.  In just a few short weeks I’ll be a mother - and from that day forward I’ll wake  up a mother - and have my heart walking (or crawling) around outside of me, as they say.  This is the intense joy and quiet wonder I’m surrounded with each morning I wake up, and several times throughout the day.  With it I skip to the car to install the seats, I smile as I fold what seems like the 60th onesie, I stay up later than I should, body hurting, to piece together the crib, the bassinet, or just touch the baby books, the toys, the bottles.  I want to lie down in a pool of all things baby - all of these objects our child will touch - will need - so very soon.

I place my hands on E’s belly and feel the strong and massive movements, kicks, hiccups.  I bend down and talk directly to him with my baby voice - and when I place my lips on her skin to plant a kiss - I feel I’m kissing my child - our child.  I breathe in while I’m there and swear I smell that baby smell - so unmistakably sweet and wonderful.  My baby.  Our baby.  Coming soon.  Coming finally.

Goodbyes

Today was my last day at the after school program I’ve been volunteering at once a week for a year.  I am glad to be moving onto student teaching, but am really sad that I won’t see these kids every week.  It couldn’t have been a better, more well-rounded day.  I helped one of my favorite kids with her homework - ah, rules of phonics, how I love thee.  I played games with a few other kids, realizing Connect Four is much more involved than it appears on the surface.  I even got to apply a band-aid to the finger of perhaps the cutest kindergartener I’ve ever met, who got a paper cut and was trying to decide how much of a big deal it was to her.  I think I prefer teaching the older kids, but I do love the moments where I can play “mom” to the young’ins.  SO. DAMN. CUTE.

A third grade girl who I don’t interact with much made me a card saying goodbye.  When the director of the program told her I would become a mom soon, and I followed up with “my wife is going to have a baby,” I watched as the wheels in her little brain strained to comprehend exactly what that meant.  Hey - at 8 years old I would have a hard time with that riddle!  This has happened several times at the program, and I think I’m getting better at anticipating their confusion and disbelief that this person who just played a round of “Go Fish” with them is married to a woman.   It shakes up their assumptions and possibly everything they thought they knew about the order of things, but I guess that’s what we all do when we really get to know each other.  I’ve found that kids understand it all the best.

Stillness

I love the stillness in the air before a snowstorm.  It happened today, and I happily watched as the first few flakes came floating down.  The college closed at noon, and it’s snowing heavily now.  I’m in my own little stillness before the storm.  E. is napping, and I’m sitting cozily and going through all our baby clothes, removing tags and washing them.  I’m trying to picture our little one, our Moon, inside each one.  I have definitely entered a new phase of grasping how soon our Moon will be with us.

Yae for two other moms who’s little one just arrived.

I love you, job that allows me to get my coursework done…

The perfect constellation* of nearing the end of my job and nearing vacation has afforded me ample time to wrap-up my thesis, as well as get some other papers polished and printed. Yae for chill jobs! I CAN’T IMAGINE doing this program while teaching, let alone while having a newborn at home. Again - a perfect constellation of timing, and for that I am so grateful.

Because of all this productivity for school, I’m awarding myself evenings filled with reading, which makes me so, so happy. Recent favs include Middlesex and Catcher in the Rye, the latter being part of my quest to read classics I somehow overlooked while in school, which after reading this realized that’s the exact moment these kind of books should be read. It was alright, but reading gave me the sense of needing to stop in certain sections and have a class discussion on some deeper meaning I was most likely missing. Ah well, I guess I can at least appreciate it for its shocking and “banned-book” status.

Right now I’m in the middle of Eat, Pray, Love, which is a bit of a challenge for me because it’s a memoir, and I’m a bit more into narrative at this point. But the author is witty and interesting, which are required traits for writers of memoirs. It also helps that she writes about food, spirituality and finding oneself, all topics I’m into. A bonus is that I learned that my bestest bud, who lives across the pond, is currently reading it as well, and I can’t wait to discuss certain parts of the book with her, one of our favorite activities.

I’m happy. My scrooge-like fog has lifted, which I think was a combination of PMS (damn, those mood swings keep happening EVERY MONTH!) and the fact that this string of life-changing events is finally about to be tied in its nice, neat little bow. Even a month ago, when the mountain of work on my thesis lay before me, and I had weeks (now 11 days!) of work left, and the holidays had to be dealt with - the string was a mess and I looked at it with disgust. Then I picked it up, organized the hell out of it, and began to tie. First the big loop, then around with the other end and through the whole. Within the next few weeks I’ll be done with my job, done with school, starting to student-teach, and the baby will soon be with us, and two bows will be tied together so pretty and neat and snug.

It’s been a long time com’in, but now it’s here.

*The first time I published this post, I realized I had written “constipation,” a word which I swear I have no idea why my mind told my fingers to type.

Unnecessary Validations

So, my office is such that its inhabitants, with minor exceptions, are a bit obsessed with parties and gifts. Emphasis on GIFTS. As in many, and expensive. I think the term “lavish” is also appropriate here. I’ve always been a bit uncomfortable with it, and with the exception of the last two holiday seasons (I widdled down the gift-giving to doing “Secret Santas”), I dealt with it in my usual way, which is to ignore it. And complain about it occasionally. And never to the main person who drives the bulk of the over-gifting.

Hey, we can’t all work out ALL of our personal baggage by 28, right?

Anywho, this all came to a head recently when conversations were happening once I left the room about my planned baby shower. My office is a very fertile one, and we’ve had two baby showers recently, so I knew it’s just what my office does in this situation. I was a bit uncomfortable with it, particularly since E. and I had an extremely generous and full shower with our families, and I don’t feel like we really need anything for the baby at this point. But, yet again, I relied on my old habits and decided just to let it happen. My only request was that it be tacked on to our holiday party and not a separate event just for me (perhaps I’m not too comfortable with group-directed personal attention? Perhaps for another post…)

So - an incident recently occured where staff was asked yet again to pitch in for some gifts. I protested, asking us to instead re-think our office gift-giving policies in light of the holidays, two baby showers, and some staff feeling like we need to give gifts to student workers. In my email, I described that I am trying to be conscious of over-consumption this time of year, not to mention people’s personal budgets (quitting job and having baby in a few weeks, anyone??), and at the same time made mention of my discomfort of having a baby shower.

My co-workers were extremely understanding, with the exception of one person, who said in her reply that she was “so concerned to validate me as a mother the same as bio-mothers,” particularly because she is currently teaching a class on the subject. She said she wanted to make me feel “good” and “appreciated.”

Um, I actually don’t need to feel VALIDATED as a mother, thanks. And particularly not from my co-workers, most of whom I barely work with and don’t have much of a relationship with outside of work. And CERTAINLY not from anyone who thinks she need to make me feel “good,” particularly since she’s teaching a class on the topic.

But thanks for making me aware that you were thinking of me as a different kind of mother. That’s extremely helpful. And what do you know? I had NEVER even thought of that!!

And no, I didn’t say any of this to this person (sensing a trend, here?). I’m leaving this job in just a few weeks, and my mind has already left. I did talk this out with a different, very understanding co-worker, who gave me complete permission to cancel the shower. Which I did. I feel so much better.

A wise friend once warned me of the condescending/overly-PC/academic-ness of the Northeast, and I think I’ve just experienced it.

Baby Screens

There was an article in today’s Times about electronic devices (computers, ipods, cell phones) now being made and marketed to children under 5. I had recently heard about the hook-up that allows young children to play on a computer without damaging the keyboard, but there are now cell phones and mp3 players completely designed to cater to children. The article cites parents claiming their 2-year olds know the difference when they play on a fake computer or cell phone, and demand the real thing instead. One 6-year old asked for her own adult laptop.

I’ve seen some cool educational websites for kids - and our nephew certainly gets into them. But do kids really need their own laptop? Their own mp3 player or cell phone? Of course, this is a whole new demographic that marketers are eager to tap into. I just can’t believe parents actually buy this stuff. Thankfully, the Times article does cite the American Pediatric Society’s warning against any screen time for kids under age 2, and excessive (over 2 hours) screen time for older kids. It also mentions the issue of play turning into screen-based media, devoid of interacting with other children and being creative. I’m trying to be open about all this - but there does seem to be a fundamental shift between how I grew up playing barbies with a friend and making up the story line, and playing a computer game alone.

Ugh. I’m already feeling how it will be to navigate all this stuff as a parent. I’m still trying to figure it all out myself, as I simultaneously continue to both embrace and resist different types of technology and screen time in my life (today I worked out again with the aid of E.’s ipod, and thought: “Now, only if I could put my own songs on here…” - she’s not going for it). I suppose my mantra for most everything in life will have to apply for parenting: everything in moderation leads to balance.

Where a small dose of OCD comes in handy…

Countdowns: let’s recap:

11 more classes ’till I’m done with this semester

21 more days of working at my job

27 more days until Christmas

40 more days ’till I start my student teaching

57 more days until the baby is due

My mind is a never-ending ticking clock (I almost just typed “clicking tock”) and while it lives in the future, my body remains in the present.  Thankfully my sedentary haze has lifted and I’m exercising again.  So while I leave my body behind daily, at least I’m taking care of it again.  And I even worked out using E.’s ipod for the first time after resisting for so long a device that keeps us obsessively attached to our own inner world rather than our surroundings.  But just like the cell phone, I couldn’t escape the giddy excitement of new technology, nor the fact that walking briskly around a track like a hamster for a half hour listening to the intermittent grunts of tennis players tends to drive one completely bonkers.  I suppose there are some instances where plugging into your own digital music archive can be useful (my wife will NEVER let me hear the end of this, by the way).

Thankful for Lasts

We returned today from spending two nights in Maine visiting my family for Thanksgiving.  Everything went well, and it was good to see my family.  But what took up the most space in my mind the entire time was the fact that this was our last Thanksgiving before Moon arrives.  And this will be our last Christmas.  In other words, I’m currently obsessed with Lasts.

I am so utterly thankful that this holiday season is our last without children.  It all feels so right that we are starting our family now - I know we are both more than ready individually, and it also feels right at this point in our relationship.  It is just unbelievable to think that we will have an 11-month old next Christmas.  We both get so excited and giddy thinking about it!

For all the ways my family drove me nuts this weekend (in all the usual ways), I am so thankful that E. and I are about to start our own.

Sacred Solitude

I’m convinced that if the human brain could accurately calculate all of the million ways our lives will change once we have kids, there would be a lot less babies in the world.  E. went away this weekend to visit the fam - and I couldn’t hide my giddiness to have the house to myself this weekend.  Going from work to class to work again really takes its tole, and I can’t remember the last time I had a long stretch of time at home, let alone time by myself (most likely the last time E. left for a weekend).  Thankfully, our relationship is such that we both value a healthy balance of “us time” and “alone time” that I was unashamedly happy, and E. was happy for me.  Bless her.

So as the weekend neared the thought did enter my brain that perhaps this will be my last chance for alone time for quite some time, as er, our BABY will arrive in less than 3 months.  But the minute the thought enters my brain I can see it seeping out the other ear - as thoughts of silent reading, movie-watching, and general lazying about the house without a care fill up the space instead.  It’s as if my brain is not fully equipped to show me precisely how my life will change in just 80 short days.  Yes, yes - I know intellectually how it will change - the look of pure longing and jealousy on my co-worker’s face when I told her about my weekend (she has a 2-year old) was enough. But when I really try to visualize it all - and in the spaces of quiet in our house or when E. and I share a nice dinner together and I say, “Brain - insert baby!” it’s like a cartoon image of a baby plops down in the center of the room and just sits there, not making a sound.  My mind answers: DOES NOT COMPUTE.

I guess it’s just as well, since I thoroughly enjoyed my weekend alone, filled with a visit to the library (books! childbirth videos! cds!), renting 3 movies (H*arry P*tter, how I love thee), drinking some wine, and a surprise brunch with a visiting friend.  Just. Perfect.

It made me realize that perhaps E. and I could do better ensuring that each of us gets a sufficient amount of alone-time, even if we are both in the house at the same time.  Some inkling tells me if we figure out how to somewhat achieve this now, it might help us in the future.  Though my brain won’t fully let me go there…

Filling in the Negative Space

Woke up early thinking about a friend’s question. Couldn’t get it outa my head, so had to get up and post.

Q: “Non-bio moms, how did you deal with your partner’s pregnancy–or anticipation of your partner’s pregnancy?”

Regarding pregnancy, I do remember feeling a fleeting sense of detachment, before I found my role in it all. For me, my role became doing everything to take care of her - go shopping and make dinners when she came home and couldn’t do anything but go to bed, give her massages, and generally just be the one who felt normal. When we were trying (for so, so long…), I decided to be the one who dealt with the swimmers - called the bank, picked it up, took it back, etc. I decided that if the pregnancy was going to happen inside of her body, what could my body do to be a part of it all? I thank E. for willingly giving up a lot of the outside tasks and just be able to trust me to handle them (of course, I think she was just glad to not have to add them to her plate already full with charting, etc.).

The task-keeping spilled over to pregnancy. I keep the list of “to do’s” for baby prep, also because I just have more time on my hands. I cross out the weekly calendar on our fridge - honestly, if E. did it instead, I wouldn’t be happy (this might be a surprise to E!). In other words, we’ve found our roles: E. is growing our baby, taking care of her body, and doing her own mental prep to prepare for birth (as well as many other mental processes I’m sure I’m not aware of). I’m keeping us on-task, prepared, and offer her the emotional support when she needs it.

I think I’ve come to realize my role as the non-bio mom perhaps more quickly than most because of our exposure to the children in our lives. I’ve slowly been able to piece together what I’ll uniquely have to offer our child, which has been a great comfort to me. After all, if we are non-traditional families, we are creating our own maps, and thus the creating can take quite the time and effort. For example, I’ve noticed that when our nephew picks up a book and is asking the group of us to read it to him, I’m usually the one to happily agree. I’ll read it to him 5 times if he’s into it. I just can’t say “no” to reading a book to a child - I’m that passionate about reading. Not surprising, since I’m also usually the one to usually take an extra second to try and explain a new idea to him, trying to catch a “teaching moment” if I can. I think I’m also more the “rough-houser” in terms of play than E. Sometimes I think these all add up to being more “dad-ish” qualities, but I think they just happen to be what I’m more interested in.

In other words, my advice would be not to focus on what you aren’t (bio-mom), but what unique gifts you have to give as a parent. As an adult, I can see the different, but equally important qualities I got from each of my parents. This comforts me to know that our child will get the same from us. This realization didn’t come right away, but throughout the length of pregnancy (thank god for those 40 weeks!!), and in the end I just had to admit that E. will have a different relationship with our child because she is giving birth, period. But I’m free to form my own relationship, and that quickly became exciting to me. We each offer different things, but they are both so important.

No doubt it’s all a process, and I’m sure I’ll be re-defining it as time goes on (and baby actually gets here already!). I hope any of this helps, friends.