Inheritance and the future

Once I knew I wanted to have a family with Chris, I began daydreaming about it... what it would be like, how our hypothetical children would look, who they would take after, etc. And when I was pregnant and this family was becoming a reality, we spoke and joked frequently about the various qualities that we hoped the little one would inherit. I said I wanted her to have my thick wavy hair and Chris's long legs. I hoped she would have Chris's work ethic and sense of optimism alongside my capacity for empathy.

Now that she is here and beginning to show more personality with every day, it is so amazing. I feel like she's a little chameleon with a face that shifts in resemblance among the faces of people I love most. I see Chris's and my mother-in-law's eyes. I see my mom's and my sister's mouths. I see my hands, my face shape, and my long nail beds.

I love seeing Emilia change and grow but it happens so rapidly. Sometimes it feels like it is happening too rapidly. For me, early motherhood has entailed this mixed bag of constant anticipation coupled with a nagging desire to slow down time. I want to savor every moment of her littleness and breathe her in each day. But I also want her to thrive. It's complicated I guess.

I asked my dad about this the other day because I was feeling especially protective of right now. I asked him if it is hard to watch your little ones grow and grow... to a point where you can no longer sweep them up and cuddle and snuggle them? The thought that she won't always fit in my arms... The idea that our physical closeness won't last forever... I anticipate the longing I will someday feel in missing those things. I imagine the longing my parents (and especially my mom) must feel for the close intimate moments with their babies. Just like one of Emilia's books articulates, you almost want to "keep them little." I knew I couldn't talk to my mom about this without sobbing like the sap that I am so I steeled myself as much as possible and said to my dad, "Is it hard to watch your children grow? In a way, don't you just want them (i.e. us) to be little forever?"

At first he joked that by the time they grow up, you as their parent badly need a break. He's right because so many aspects of this time are exhausting, no doubt. But then he paused for a moment and said reassuringly that as parents you grow with your children and whatever it is that they do in that moment becomes the best, most exciting, and sweet thing. That makes sense to me too. It has been my (albeit brief) parental experience that the stuff that I treasure absolutely corresponds with time as it elapses. But those new happy feelings don't diminish or supplant the joy felt for everything that has occurred thus far. It just makes the transitions of her growth less bitter and more sweet.

I may feel like I want to slow down time but no part of me would ever dream of holding Emilia back. I guess I am trying to say that I can and I cannot wait to see who she will be tomorrow and the next day and the next.

One week postpartum... birth and recovery

Above depicts almost one week but 6 days to be exact. My body is ... recovering. I am still sore. Particularly at the cite of incision (because in my birth story there was an incision).

Suffice it to say that birth didn't go according to plan. This fact becomes easier for me to confront with each passing day but that doesn't mean it is easy. At least not yet. I don't plan to post my full birth story here but the synopsis is that I went into labor at home. Began timing contractions around 2:30 am on Sunday morning (Nov. 25th). Woke up Chris at 3 when I realized that things were likely happening. I labored at home until around 10am that morning when I called the midwife on duty and my parents. My favorite memories of labor are from that period of being at home. I was having back labor and things felt really intense so Chris drew me a bath and poured warm water on me. Standing during contractions helped. Moving through contractions helped. Both of these options were no longer available once I went to the hospital, unfortunately.

Sitting on the birth ball somehow made it feel worse through my back but that was just as well. By the time I got to the hospital I was 8cm dilated. I couldn't believe it! I was still walking around and talking through contractions so I anticipated being told I was 3 or 4 cm. For this reason, I truly believe I could have made it to 10 without interventions. But my blood pressure was elevated and my heart condition caused enough concern that I was not given much choice but to receive an epidural. Had I known this decision was made for me by my care providers (who never informed me) I would have waited a little longer, hoping to get to 10. Hindsight. I wish I hadn't made such a big deal during my prenatal care about my relatively common heart condition for this reason.* Hindsight.

The story from here isn't a new or surprising one. The epidural stalled me out. Over the course of the afternoon and evening, they broke my water and I was given pitocin. Both of these things made back labor worse. And when it was time to push nothing could counteract the fact that I was completely numb in the area where I needed to feel. So my pushing was ineffective. I pushed for four hours and was told that I had failed to move her down far enough. She was also possibly sunny side up? At this point my memories become blurry. Anyway, the OB checked me and determined that Emilia and I were not candidates for suction or forceps.

So the further condensed version of all of this is that I wound up with a surgical birth. Although I wrote here many times about how I intended to be open-minded and flexible nothing could emotionally prepare me for that moment... and all the moments that it rendered impossible.

I spent my entire pregnancy envisioning that she'd come out of me and be placed immediately on my chest. I thought about whether Chris (squeamish as he is) would be able to cut the cord or if my mom would have to do it. I brainstormed what to wear so that I could as easily and swiftly as possible begin skin to skin, breastfeed, and bond with my baby girl.

It is hard not to have those memories that I anticipated with such excitement and (to be honest) certainty. It is hard to have instead the memory of a sheet in front of my face as my body was strapped down, shivering, and nauseous from all the medications being pumped into my veins. My least favorite memory of birth was hearing her cry but being unable to see her. The nagging almost primal desire to want to hold her was unlike anything I've ever felt. But my limbs were numb so holding her was not going to be an option. No one brought her over to me or lowered the curtain. No one gave us the chance to do skin to skin with our faces. Chris did get to hold her and for that I am grateful. I didn't really meet her until I was post op.  And there were no medically emergent reasons for any of these decisions except that they were hospital protocol. I wasn't aware of this protocol. My birth plan's section on surgical birth requested simple things be done to humanize the operation. Lowering the curtain, skin to skin, and other small requests I wrote in it were approved by the midwives. Had these requests been a part of my birth I am sure the hard feelings I'm having in hindsight would be less... hard.

Don't get me wrong. I am so glad we are both healthy. I am so glad to have medical care that can ensure our health and survival even if my particular birth experience felt dehumanizing and traumatic at points. Even as it hurts to get up and down, even as it hurts to twist or maneuver my body, even as I look at my body which has the aftermath of both vaginal and surgical birth to recover from, even after my milk was delayed by a day while my body took its time in recognizing that she was born, I am so so so grateful. I am grateful for this baby and this new life. I am also grateful that she was born at 12:10 am on November 26th because November 25th was by far the most terrifying day of my life. And I am lucky that its anniversary will not fall on a day I intend to celebrate fully and richly for the rest of my life.

*Even one of the anesthesiologists mentioned after the fact that the reason why my condition, called PFO isn't studied is not because it is so anomalous or unique. It's because it is utterly mundane and common. So inevitably plenty of pregnant people have had vaginal, unmedicated births with a PFO. I say this because I fear people will read "heart condition" and think my desire for an unmedicated birth is unreasonable or selfish.  

Week by week: 38!

38 weeks and the side view is striking!

My mom told me that her first child (which happens to be me) was born 15 days early. As I come upon that auspicious milestone in my own pregnancy, my thoughts are anticipatory but anxious. I am so excited to meet this tiny creature who has been kicking and hiccuping up a storm. But I also don't know that I will ever feel completely ready for birth or for the qualitative life changes that parenthood will surely bring.

I do know that my 38 weeks of extra feelings have made me more weepy than usual. I thought I was uncomfortable a few weeks ago but I now believe that I didn't know from uncomfortable. My indigestion and heartburn remain fierce. My desire to clean and organize and take care of business has intensified while my physical agility decreases. My abilities to focus and find the right language on the fly are diminished. Chris jokes that there's no blood left in my brain. Hopefully my students don't notice. I think I manage to be lucid in the classroom but evaluations of lucidity are interpretive. I am doing the best that I can.

As I try to visualize birth, I'm intimidated but hopeful. I want to muster all my confidence and optimism and not allow myself to be crippled with doubt. But it's difficult not to worry. I usually thrive in high pressure circumstances. I pride myself in rising to the occasion. But this will be a situation unlike anything I've experienced! And my mom and husband will be there with me which is reassuring. I just would like for the fetus to keep cooking a bit longer. Even with my discomforts, 15 days early feels like 15 days too early.

I've begun to come to terms with how little control I actually have. Pregnancy has been a series of lessons in surrender (special thanks to wise mom friend, Hillary for that very apt phrase). For someone accustomed to relative control, it hasn't always been easy. There have been numerous peaks and more than a few emotional valleys. But I'm comforted by the knowledge that pregnancy is not an illness. It is not something terribly abnormal. Women have been doing this for centuries. They do it every day all over the world, on a continuum of both more and less privileged/fortunate circumstances than my own.

I have instructed Chris and my mom to remind me of a few truths during the tougher birth moments: 1. She has to come out no matter what. 2. Breathing through pain will bring oxygen to my tensing muscles. Gravity will help me if I let it. 3. And perhaps most importantly: however she emerges my main goal is healthy mom, healthy infant.

Family Planning

As Chris and I prepare for the impending arrival of our little one, I also find myself relishing these final weeks and moments of pregnancy. We are literally on the precipice of HUGE change, that will be both wonderful and terrifying. I dream absurd and vivid things about birth. I lay awake and wonder about life with a child. I wonder also about how it will feel to no longer be pregnant. Will I miss feeling her move from the inside? Will I miss my large, hard belly? Will I miss the positive if unsolicited attention from strangers and acquaintances?

Sure, there are some physical discomforts that seem to grow as my body does and those I will not miss. I've grown a bit tired of being the default designated driver on nights when I still have the stamina to go out. I admit that I would love to have more than just sips of wine or any other alcoholic beverage. It would be nice to eat charcuterie and pate without guilt. And I already have raw oyster and sushi plans in the works.

But I imagine (as a consummate sap), that I will look back on these final days with deep fondness, nostalgia, and perhaps even a bit of envy for the time when things were so simple. When our plans and planning were still entirely within our control. When our sleep patterns were dictated largely by our whims. When it was easy to keep the house relatively clean and in order. When "we" meant just us two. I hope it isn't wrong to admit that in anticipating even the most exciting and positive change, it can be hard not to cling instinctively to what was already "known."

Chris and I have built such a happy life together and in my perpetual state of "too many feelings" I sometimes can't believe my good fortune in having him as my partner. Of course he's not perfect (and neither am I!) but we really suit each other. It feels fitting and poignant to share this with him. When I allow myself to dwell on it, my mind is blown by the notion that we've made what will become our new family member.*

Above you see us on our second wedding anniversary, wearing one of our wedding gifts. We kept meaning to wear these matching air brushed t-shirts to Kennywood (since wearing matching outfits is a grand Kennywood tradition that we've never actually shared) but it also made sense to debut them on our "cotton" anniversary. Although we weren't able to get photos in the same spot we did the last two years, we made the most of the day. It wasn't lost on me that it was our final wedding anniversary as just us two.

Our family planning brought us here. And I am both excited and nervous about what the future brings.

*My mind is also often blown by (mostly male) politicians playing political football with reproductive rights, especially when I reflect upon all the things the pregnant body has to do and all the discomforts that women can experience throughout this process. Rather than making me question my belief in reproductive rights, pregnancy has galvanized it. That some can flippantly suggest women carry unwanted, unplanned pregnancies to term with no say in the decision has become more baffling to me than ever.

Week by Week 34

34 weeks!

My belly button is still in (but barely). My stomach is constantly slathered in some sort of lotion, hoping to avoid stretch marks but not feeling optimistic. Sleeping has become more challenging with each day due to various aches and pains. Once I do sleep, I apparently snore (sorry Chris!). I bought a bra extender thingy from Target this week which helps make things more comfortable without my needing to buy non-nursing in between bras (since I don't know what size nursing bras I will need). I am looking into a belly binder for after birth cause I really would like to hold everything in place and encourage things to go back to "normal." I've been using my Target BE Band (generic Bella Band) as a belly support device cause it feels so strained.

We've finally begun getting the nursery ready although it is still very far from organized. We managed to get furniture out of there and now it is full of the embarrassment of riches from baby shower gifts (still in boxes/new with tags/unwashed and not ready). I also have to clean out the armoire that is going to be baby's closet/storage. So much to do and so little time!

I did manage to wrap the article manuscript I wanted to send off to be considered for publication so that my resume remains active. I have a conference paper to wrap up (even though I can't physically attend the conference because I won't be allowed to fly by then) and more writing and diss. revision. Not to mention finishing my semester with my students. I hope the fetus remembers the bargain we made about how she needs to keep cooking until at least the day after her due date!

Lots more to talk about in terms of symptoms, cravings, and the amazingly overwhelming and wonderful experience that is being surrounded by all the women who I love and who have known me my whole life (aka my baby showers). I'll try to be back later in the week but my priorities are such that my recreational writing time is dedicated to the zillion more thank you notes I have to write (which I really enjoy doing even though they take a great deal of time because I toil over how to express my gratitude in a way that doesn't sound canned or insincere).

Outfit details:
Bailey 44 top from Nordstrom Rack (non-maternity)
Gap "Always Skinny" Maternity Cords in green
Captoe flats with extra footbed cushion from Payless

On timing

at Chris's brother's graduation (week 22)

One of the questions asked by closer friends (who are still deciding whether kids will be in the scope of their lives) has been with regard to "timing." Above everything else, the question of timing plagued us most in the process of our own family planning. Chris and I agreed a long time ago that we'd like to have children "someday." Barring the potential for fertility challenges, that agreement made our discussion as a couple less about "if" and more about "when." While the changes resultant from this decision remained firmly in the realm of the abstract, it was easy to speak of the future with confidence. "When we have a family... When you're a mom/dad... etc. etc."

This hypothetical notion of "when" orbited our lives over the last few years without any definitive reason to set deadlines or rush. "When" continued to feel slightly out of immediate reach and therefore, still a hypothetical idea rather than a reality. Hypotheticals brim with possibility and idealized future projections. They are wonderful in that regard. Realities can bring with them fears over uncontrollables and unknowns. Now, rather than speaking of "when" I become a mother with no sense of self-consciousness, I feel pangs of performance anxiety over "how" to be a mother.

As I enter my third trimester of a very wanted pregnancy, I am still not certain that the timing question was answered "correctly." I don't know that there are perfect answers to that question, particularly once a pregnancy (that has been determined to be wanted) progresses. Hypotheticals morph into imminents that are accepted with fewer theories and philosophies. Change becomes your new normal, out of necessity. But this type of acceptance isn't without its own transition pains.

Not so long ago, I was on the other end of this conversation. I asked an experienced and wise friend about the question of timing. She assured me as she snuggled her own little one that although there is never a "perfect" time, it always becomes the "right" time to have your baby. I have held onto that notion since it was articulated to me. And to this day it brings me great comfort. A wanted, healthy pregnancy and a wanted child are life circumstances around which variables seem to adapt and make room with little fanfare.

As I mentioned above, when it comes to my pregnancy I am not certain of the "perfection" of my own life's timing. I don't feel regret about the shape of things to come and I don't doubt the capacity for the love that already fills our household to grow exponentially upon the arrival of our little one. I just also happen to believe that we could have had incredibly happy, fulfilled lives as a duo. Our lives were and are very full. And on some level, the biggest barrier to our "when" was in risking the significant disruption of circumstances that have been so good for so long. But this is a decision we made, on which we were lucky enough to be able to follow through. I imagine once the dust from these major transitions settles I will think back to the anxiety I felt over both "when" and "how" with some sense of rear view amusement.

Logistically, there were a few puzzle pieces we wanted to have in place, in advance of our "when." 

We weighed our personal financial circumstances, our ages, our time together thus far, our access to health care coverage, my options for maternity leave, child care arrangements, the proximity of our families right now, our housing situation, our vehicle situation, our job situations, our life insurance policies, our desires/hopes/fears,... I could go on.

Even with all of our forethought, who can say whether the timing is perfect to go from 2 to 3? I don't know that being "perfect" matters to us as much as it used to. And something about that makes it feel really right.

Registry Anxieties

Pottery Barn Kids Brooklyn Crib Bedding

 
Picking out baby things for someone I've not yet met is challenging. Will she like swings? Will she like being worn? Will she like being swaddled? All of these questions remain unknowns until she arrives and we get to know her.

The very dense and lengthy registry checklists offered by major retailers seem to inflate the amount of gear they claim you will "need." But it is difficult not to feel overwhelmed by this new consumer realm. Sections of stores that never mattered to me suddenly matter. Sale racks that I would have previously ignored get at least a once-over. Predicting clothing sizes as they correspond with seasons is a gamble but some of the end of summer clearances have been too steep to skip. And the plethora of information regarding products is both helpful and annoying. How much trust do I place in reviews? And how much time do I invest in researching things like mattresses, strollers, and cribs?

I do know that I fell in love with the above pictured bedding from Pottery Barn Kids. It is so pretty that I would use it if it existed for adult beds! And when I compared the quality and price with the sets I saw at Babies R Us and the like, there was really no contest. If only the other big product decisions were as fun to make!

Mother and Father to be Days

This year on Mother's Day, Chris was sweet enough to buy me beautiful flowers. It was a nice surprise and it got me thinking about what I could give him for Father's Day. Of course what I chose is technically not for him, but when asked whether he wants a boy or a girl, his response is that he would like to have a healthy some-day baseball fan.

So this gift seemed fitting and gender-neutral enough to work for our little one to be. Did any other parents/to be parents honor these days during their first desired pregnancy?

What to expect...

As I embark upon this new project in my life, I am eager for an outlet to diary some of the aspects of pregnancy and eventually motherhood that challenge and confound me. It is both exciting and nerve-wracking to take on something so new and so significant. I have long wanted to grow a family but I struggled over timing. My partner and I have been partnered for nearly a decade but married in 2010. Timing for career, relationship, finances, life's milestones and travels, as well as a few other things made me unsure about when to start "trying." And once we began trying everything fell into place more rapidly than anticipated. So here I am, nearly four months pregnant with a dissertation to finish, a house to prepare, and a lot of things to learn about becoming a parent. I plan to use this space as one for brainstorming, sharing, and archiving this time. I hear from seasoned parents that it all will move too quickly. I also hear it will be difficult but worthwhile. Simultaneously, I find myself anticipating with impatience and wishing I could slow time. I just don't know what to expect...