I am all alone. For the rest of the night.
I can't remember the last time I could say that.
Mr. Spicy is out of town for work and Zane is sleeping upstairs and I am here, alone.
Of course, I do have a sleeping child upstairs so it's not like I am really all alone. But it is close enough.
As soon as I heard my son mumble off into the silence of sleep, it hit me. I was enveloped in the richness of the moment, completely alone. Like being wrapped in the softest silk. I almost cried at the comfort of the silence and stillness, knowing that there would be no one coming home tonight, there was no end to this imposed by anyone else, there was no one else to consider.
No one but me.
I sat on my bed, the fan blowing, the windows open, letting the last light of the day stream through, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood ending its busy day, and a part of me showed up in that moment, a part of myself I can only connect with when I am all alone.
Oh how I have missed her.
I have missed this.
Before I was married, before I was a mother, I was an expert at being alone. I thrived on it. For years I took week-long camping trips every summer, just me and my dog. I moved across the country twice all by myself. I have taken so many solo road trips that it is actually hard for me to connect with someone else on a road trip, I just so easily slip into my own routine and my own space there. I enjoy my own company and my time alone.
It has been good for me to be forced out of this, it has been a good practice for me to have to be present in almost every single moment with another human being. I can feel myself growing, my patience, compassion, honesty, courage, selflessness, expanding. Being responsible to another person the way I am as a wife, but even more so as a mother has been an incredible experience of sacrifice and heart expanding love that I would not trade for anything.
But oh how I have missed this.
Of course by the time I go to bed tonight, or surely when I wake up in the morning, I know I will long for the familiar feel of my husband lying in bed beside me, his smell, his laugh. I know I will miss sharing the day with him, sharing each other's burdens. I will miss my partner. And lets be honest, I will also miss the help.
But for now, I am spending the night with an old friend who I have neglected for far too long.
Oh how I have missed you.
Won't you stay a while?
Showing posts with label Mr. Spicy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mr. Spicy. Show all posts
March 30, 2010
January 21, 2010
One Year
Zane turned a year old today.
I had planned a beautiful day of discovery and connection for us. I imagined cuddling and telling him stories from his birth and relating to him how long we waited and prayed for him to be with us and how utterly grateful we are that he has come into our lives. I imagined a peaceful, celebratory day.
Instead, much like his birth - it was all of that, but not at all how I planned it.
He woke up at 5am. An hour early. I sat in his room till 6am quietly "shhh"ing and trying to coax him back to sleep. At 6 we "woke" him with a big birthday song and hugs and kisses. Mr. Spicy brought him into our room and I nursed him and promptly passed out in exhaustion. Mr. Spicy was kind enough to let me sleep for an hour, but that meant I missed the "cake for breakfast" festivities I had so been looking forward to. I came downstairs to find a very happy little boy with cake crumbs all over his pj's. Very sweet.
Then, somehow Mr. Spicy and I managed to work ourselves into a stupid, nasty fight before he left for work and I was more than 30 minutes late getting Zane down for his first nap. Nice.
I had decided to take Zane to the National Western Stock Show in town after his nap, to pet all the exciting farm animals. Zane woke up a little extra clingy so we snuggled in bed for awhile which was delightful, but put us way behind schedule. I rushed us to the show, only to struggle to find parking that wasn't $20, and rushed us inside to see all the bunnies and chickens and horses and sheep and goats and pigs and llamas and donkeys.... oh my! Zane enjoyed the "petting farm" and desperately wanted to hold the bunnies, but we were both toast within 30 minutes. He was overdue for lunch and a nap, and I was way overstimulated.
So we rushed home with his favorite CD turned up loudly for distraction and upon arriving at our house, I locked our keys in the car. After calling Mr. Spicy for rescue, and being rescued by a kind neighbor, I finally got us inside, fed Zane quickly and rushed him upstairs to nap.
He woke up only 30 minutes later, hands in his mouth, complaining of teething pain. So, we snuggled in bed again and soon it was time to head out the door to take our dog to the vet for an urgent appointment.
Two hours later, we were finally leaving the vet with not so good news about our beloved pup. Zane was hungry again and I had a splitting headache. As we drove home I called Mr. Spicy.
"I feel like a total failure as a mom! I can't even manage to have a nice sweet day with my son for his birthday. I really needed this day to be special for both of us and instead it just feels rushed and stressful and it's all my fault!"
After some reassurance from my loving (and forgiving) husband, I made it home. And though I had planned to make a special meal and enjoy a family dinner around the table sharing stories and celebrating together, it was not to be. Instead, we sat on either side of his highchair, feeding him yet more cake, and two of his favorite veggies, watching in amazement as he picked up his spoon, dipped it into his cake, and brought it to his mouth as if he had been doing this all his life! We laughed with him. We told him how much we love him, how much joy he brings us. We talked about his birth.
Over peas and sweet potatoes, we celebrated. We toasted him with goat's milk. And we laughed. We laughed and laughed.
We laughed as we played "peek-a-boo", marching up the stairs to bath.
We laughed as he splashed and brushed his own wet hair in the bath.
We laughed as we prepared for bed and read our stories.
And just before he laid down to sleep we said our prayers and thanked God for this little miraculous boy and we told him once more just how very very happy we are that he is here.
Thank you, Zane for coming to make us a family. Thank you for being so thoroughly, entirely, uniquely "you". We love you so.
Happy Happy Birthday little man.
I had planned a beautiful day of discovery and connection for us. I imagined cuddling and telling him stories from his birth and relating to him how long we waited and prayed for him to be with us and how utterly grateful we are that he has come into our lives. I imagined a peaceful, celebratory day.
Instead, much like his birth - it was all of that, but not at all how I planned it.
He woke up at 5am. An hour early. I sat in his room till 6am quietly "shhh"ing and trying to coax him back to sleep. At 6 we "woke" him with a big birthday song and hugs and kisses. Mr. Spicy brought him into our room and I nursed him and promptly passed out in exhaustion. Mr. Spicy was kind enough to let me sleep for an hour, but that meant I missed the "cake for breakfast" festivities I had so been looking forward to. I came downstairs to find a very happy little boy with cake crumbs all over his pj's. Very sweet.
Then, somehow Mr. Spicy and I managed to work ourselves into a stupid, nasty fight before he left for work and I was more than 30 minutes late getting Zane down for his first nap. Nice.
I had decided to take Zane to the National Western Stock Show in town after his nap, to pet all the exciting farm animals. Zane woke up a little extra clingy so we snuggled in bed for awhile which was delightful, but put us way behind schedule. I rushed us to the show, only to struggle to find parking that wasn't $20, and rushed us inside to see all the bunnies and chickens and horses and sheep and goats and pigs and llamas and donkeys.... oh my! Zane enjoyed the "petting farm" and desperately wanted to hold the bunnies, but we were both toast within 30 minutes. He was overdue for lunch and a nap, and I was way overstimulated.
So we rushed home with his favorite CD turned up loudly for distraction and upon arriving at our house, I locked our keys in the car. After calling Mr. Spicy for rescue, and being rescued by a kind neighbor, I finally got us inside, fed Zane quickly and rushed him upstairs to nap.
He woke up only 30 minutes later, hands in his mouth, complaining of teething pain. So, we snuggled in bed again and soon it was time to head out the door to take our dog to the vet for an urgent appointment.
Two hours later, we were finally leaving the vet with not so good news about our beloved pup. Zane was hungry again and I had a splitting headache. As we drove home I called Mr. Spicy.
"I feel like a total failure as a mom! I can't even manage to have a nice sweet day with my son for his birthday. I really needed this day to be special for both of us and instead it just feels rushed and stressful and it's all my fault!"
After some reassurance from my loving (and forgiving) husband, I made it home. And though I had planned to make a special meal and enjoy a family dinner around the table sharing stories and celebrating together, it was not to be. Instead, we sat on either side of his highchair, feeding him yet more cake, and two of his favorite veggies, watching in amazement as he picked up his spoon, dipped it into his cake, and brought it to his mouth as if he had been doing this all his life! We laughed with him. We told him how much we love him, how much joy he brings us. We talked about his birth.
Over peas and sweet potatoes, we celebrated. We toasted him with goat's milk. And we laughed. We laughed and laughed.
We laughed as we played "peek-a-boo", marching up the stairs to bath.
We laughed as he splashed and brushed his own wet hair in the bath.
We laughed as we prepared for bed and read our stories.
And just before he laid down to sleep we said our prayers and thanked God for this little miraculous boy and we told him once more just how very very happy we are that he is here.
Thank you, Zane for coming to make us a family. Thank you for being so thoroughly, entirely, uniquely "you". We love you so.
Happy Happy Birthday little man.
August 25, 2009
Seven
Yesterday was our seventh wedding anniversary. Whew.
Some people say the seventh year is the hardest. There is a rumor, not sure how accurate, about how most divorces occur around the seven year mark. I know of at least one marriage that dissolved on that timeline. And then there's the "Seven Year Itch" and all that.
But we made it. Today is day one of year eight. Eight's always been a lucky number for me.
It is not that I am entirely surprised we made it, but I am relieved. This has been by far the hardest year of our marriage. The year where I understood at a very frightening level why so many marriages don't make it.
But it has paradoxically also been the most blessed and fruitful year of our marriage. The year where I understood better than ever why "we" work and wanted more than ever for us to make it.
We grew so much this year, we faced so many parts of each other and ourselves that were painful and sometimes ugly. We cried. We screamed. We threatened and we ran.
But we also held each other and held onto each other. We fought for one another. We loved and fell in love more deeply. We welcomed our son into the world and loved him with all of our hearts. We became a family. We weathered a long and difficult labor together, we continue to endure sleepless nights and exhaustion together. We have grieved together and rejoiced together. We have learned not to take ourselves too seriously. We have laughed till we cried. We have come out stronger and better for it, together.
This year my husband held me while I swayed and moaned and sweated and yelled, laboring to birth our son. As he held me, as I buried my head in his neck, the smell of him took me somewhere deeply comforting and safe. Somewhere soft and strong. Even now, so many months later I can recall that sensory memory and crawl right back into it, into that smell, that safety, that warmth, that knowledge that right there in that moment nothing could harm us, nothing could separate us. There, where I could rest. Even in the midst of the hardest work I would ever do - in him, in his presence, I could rest.
Last night I made a picnic for us. We dropped Zane at a friend's house and headed for the park. It was raining as we walked with our picnic in hand but we didn't hurry. We made our way to a spot under a tree where the rain was just barely sprinkling through the branches. We ate leftovers in the park while we looked into each other's eyes and talked about the year. More than any expensive dinner, more than any exotic romantic vacation, that moment (like the moment in labor) seemed filled with the essence of "us" and I was grateful for the simple presence of my husband eating on a blanket with me. I was grateful like you would be for water on a hot dry summer afternoon when you have walked a very long long way.
Before we even began "trying" to become parents we had "those" discussions. The ones where you wonder how you will fit a kid in your already busy and hectic lives. You wonder what will give and whether you'll be ok with the compromise. Back then I would hope out loud that parenthood would help us to distill our lives, prioritize, and simplify. I hoped that we would find ourselves taking time for the things that really matter and letting the rest go. I hoped it would slow us down in a good way.
Last night was conformation that my hopes had been realized. We didn't have to try so hard. We didn't have to over-analyse. Things did not need to be "just-so" in order for us to connect and find romance and luxury. A damp picnic in the park, surrounded by hungry geese was enough.
More than enough.
Happy Anniversary Mr. Spicy, I love you more now than I did when I married you and I cannot wait to share more of this life with you. I am grateful for you with all of my heart and soul. Thank you.
(a photo of us together at hour six of my labor)
Some people say the seventh year is the hardest. There is a rumor, not sure how accurate, about how most divorces occur around the seven year mark. I know of at least one marriage that dissolved on that timeline. And then there's the "Seven Year Itch" and all that.
But we made it. Today is day one of year eight. Eight's always been a lucky number for me.
It is not that I am entirely surprised we made it, but I am relieved. This has been by far the hardest year of our marriage. The year where I understood at a very frightening level why so many marriages don't make it.
But it has paradoxically also been the most blessed and fruitful year of our marriage. The year where I understood better than ever why "we" work and wanted more than ever for us to make it.
We grew so much this year, we faced so many parts of each other and ourselves that were painful and sometimes ugly. We cried. We screamed. We threatened and we ran.
But we also held each other and held onto each other. We fought for one another. We loved and fell in love more deeply. We welcomed our son into the world and loved him with all of our hearts. We became a family. We weathered a long and difficult labor together, we continue to endure sleepless nights and exhaustion together. We have grieved together and rejoiced together. We have learned not to take ourselves too seriously. We have laughed till we cried. We have come out stronger and better for it, together.
This year my husband held me while I swayed and moaned and sweated and yelled, laboring to birth our son. As he held me, as I buried my head in his neck, the smell of him took me somewhere deeply comforting and safe. Somewhere soft and strong. Even now, so many months later I can recall that sensory memory and crawl right back into it, into that smell, that safety, that warmth, that knowledge that right there in that moment nothing could harm us, nothing could separate us. There, where I could rest. Even in the midst of the hardest work I would ever do - in him, in his presence, I could rest.
Last night I made a picnic for us. We dropped Zane at a friend's house and headed for the park. It was raining as we walked with our picnic in hand but we didn't hurry. We made our way to a spot under a tree where the rain was just barely sprinkling through the branches. We ate leftovers in the park while we looked into each other's eyes and talked about the year. More than any expensive dinner, more than any exotic romantic vacation, that moment (like the moment in labor) seemed filled with the essence of "us" and I was grateful for the simple presence of my husband eating on a blanket with me. I was grateful like you would be for water on a hot dry summer afternoon when you have walked a very long long way.
Before we even began "trying" to become parents we had "those" discussions. The ones where you wonder how you will fit a kid in your already busy and hectic lives. You wonder what will give and whether you'll be ok with the compromise. Back then I would hope out loud that parenthood would help us to distill our lives, prioritize, and simplify. I hoped that we would find ourselves taking time for the things that really matter and letting the rest go. I hoped it would slow us down in a good way.
Last night was conformation that my hopes had been realized. We didn't have to try so hard. We didn't have to over-analyse. Things did not need to be "just-so" in order for us to connect and find romance and luxury. A damp picnic in the park, surrounded by hungry geese was enough.
More than enough.
Happy Anniversary Mr. Spicy, I love you more now than I did when I married you and I cannot wait to share more of this life with you. I am grateful for you with all of my heart and soul. Thank you.
(a photo of us together at hour six of my labor)June 25, 2009
Do I even deserve to call myself a blogger anymore?
Geez it is hard to blog these days!
Between Zane hitting the age where he is somewhat mobile, excited to explore his environment, and in need of almost constant interaction and my recent health issues (I will get to that in just a sec) - it's been....crazy.
Being a full-time mom is by far the hardest, most consuming, most challenging role I have ever had. Just when I think I am finding my rhythm, something shifts and I feel totally out of my league again. Please tell me I am not the only one who had a hard time finding her Momma groove?
It's the managing of my/our time, the neverending to-do lists, the necessary organization, the "doing" of motherhood that I keep struggling with. The loving of my son (and oh how I love him!) , the snuggling, the taking walks in the rain? Those, I revel in. Those are easy. Those are the moments I get out of bed for every day.
And he is totally worth every second of it. Of course.
Health issues. Well.
So, I have had several "episodes" in the last few months. I thought they were back spasms. I would feel pain radiating up my sternum and around to my back and then my entire back would sieze up and I would be completely imobilized with pain for 5-10 minutes. I have been seeing my chiropractor and massage therapist to get some relief.
Ha. Well. This weekend I had another "episode". Only this time it did not get better. It didn't go away, it just kept getting more and more painful. I tried standing in a hot shower, I tried icing my back. I moaned and breathed through the pain as if I was in labor. It was honestly right up there with back labor if not worse. Finally, after an hour of this - when I could no longer feel my extremities and I could barely walk - we headed to the ER.
Long, painful, story later.....I have gallstones. I was having a major gall bladder attack. It took 4 IV injections of Dilaudid to manage the pain. There was talk of needing to remove my gall bladder immediately if they could not get the pain under control. Thank goodness that didn't have to happen.
I was discharged on a super-strict no/low fat diet and told to follow up with my primary and a surgeon. I have those appointments scheduled next week so we will see how they go. The diet sucks but if it keeps me from having another attack, I will do it as long as I need to. Of course, adding these new guidelines to my already gluten-free diet means I am ridiculously restrictive in my eating.
I am anxious about surgery for several reasons: a) surgery! b) removal of an organ!, and c) Zane is not taking bottles at this point, so ensuring he is fed while I am out of commission for the surgery and getting the drugs out of my system, is problematic. He will take a couple of ounces from a sippy cup (or a small regular cup for that matter), and he eats his rice cereal mixed with breast milk like it is going out of style, but I worry he won't eat enough. Also? My breasts HATE the breast pump and I can usually only pump 2 oz or so in a sitting, and! my milk goes sour in the freezer for some reason. Literally every bag of frozen milk I have warmed up is bad, really bad. So....in order to have surgery I have to somehow have several bags of freshly pumped milk ready and I have to have convinced Zane that the bottle and sippy cup are not his enemies. That doesn't feel daunting at all.
So. We'll see what the doctors say and go from there, I guess.
Also? This all happened on Mr. Spicy's very first Father's Day. Poor guy, it really sucked for him. I promised him a Father's Day do-over.
And then, on top of all this, I went and had a major fall yesterday in Boulder. I was walking with Zane in the Ergo on my chest, carrying take-out food for myself and a friend. And - bam! In my efforts not to fall on Zane (I was successful, thank goodness) - I ended up landing on my knee and elbow. I ripped my pants wide open and received nasty scrapes and bruises on my knee and elbow. Today I am still pretty sore and feel like I was hit by a truck. Ugh.
SO. That's what's going on in my world.
And in the time it took me to write this post, my little houdini unswaddled himself three times and woke himself up with his wild arms. He loves being swaddled to sleep, but then he pulls his arms out and he can't sleep like that. Anyone else have this issue? Any suggestions???
Ok, I'd better get off to bed myself. More posts to come soon. I am running behind on Zane's monthly letter (he turned 5 months on Father's Day) and I haven't written about his adventures in eating cereal (I have lots of pictures too!), so I have some writing to do.
Between Zane hitting the age where he is somewhat mobile, excited to explore his environment, and in need of almost constant interaction and my recent health issues (I will get to that in just a sec) - it's been....crazy.
Being a full-time mom is by far the hardest, most consuming, most challenging role I have ever had. Just when I think I am finding my rhythm, something shifts and I feel totally out of my league again. Please tell me I am not the only one who had a hard time finding her Momma groove?
It's the managing of my/our time, the neverending to-do lists, the necessary organization, the "doing" of motherhood that I keep struggling with. The loving of my son (and oh how I love him!) , the snuggling, the taking walks in the rain? Those, I revel in. Those are easy. Those are the moments I get out of bed for every day.
And he is totally worth every second of it. Of course.
Health issues. Well.
So, I have had several "episodes" in the last few months. I thought they were back spasms. I would feel pain radiating up my sternum and around to my back and then my entire back would sieze up and I would be completely imobilized with pain for 5-10 minutes. I have been seeing my chiropractor and massage therapist to get some relief.
Ha. Well. This weekend I had another "episode". Only this time it did not get better. It didn't go away, it just kept getting more and more painful. I tried standing in a hot shower, I tried icing my back. I moaned and breathed through the pain as if I was in labor. It was honestly right up there with back labor if not worse. Finally, after an hour of this - when I could no longer feel my extremities and I could barely walk - we headed to the ER.
Long, painful, story later.....I have gallstones. I was having a major gall bladder attack. It took 4 IV injections of Dilaudid to manage the pain. There was talk of needing to remove my gall bladder immediately if they could not get the pain under control. Thank goodness that didn't have to happen.
I was discharged on a super-strict no/low fat diet and told to follow up with my primary and a surgeon. I have those appointments scheduled next week so we will see how they go. The diet sucks but if it keeps me from having another attack, I will do it as long as I need to. Of course, adding these new guidelines to my already gluten-free diet means I am ridiculously restrictive in my eating.
I am anxious about surgery for several reasons: a) surgery! b) removal of an organ!, and c) Zane is not taking bottles at this point, so ensuring he is fed while I am out of commission for the surgery and getting the drugs out of my system, is problematic. He will take a couple of ounces from a sippy cup (or a small regular cup for that matter), and he eats his rice cereal mixed with breast milk like it is going out of style, but I worry he won't eat enough. Also? My breasts HATE the breast pump and I can usually only pump 2 oz or so in a sitting, and! my milk goes sour in the freezer for some reason. Literally every bag of frozen milk I have warmed up is bad, really bad. So....in order to have surgery I have to somehow have several bags of freshly pumped milk ready and I have to have convinced Zane that the bottle and sippy cup are not his enemies. That doesn't feel daunting at all.
So. We'll see what the doctors say and go from there, I guess.
Also? This all happened on Mr. Spicy's very first Father's Day. Poor guy, it really sucked for him. I promised him a Father's Day do-over.
And then, on top of all this, I went and had a major fall yesterday in Boulder. I was walking with Zane in the Ergo on my chest, carrying take-out food for myself and a friend. And - bam! In my efforts not to fall on Zane (I was successful, thank goodness) - I ended up landing on my knee and elbow. I ripped my pants wide open and received nasty scrapes and bruises on my knee and elbow. Today I am still pretty sore and feel like I was hit by a truck. Ugh.
SO. That's what's going on in my world.
And in the time it took me to write this post, my little houdini unswaddled himself three times and woke himself up with his wild arms. He loves being swaddled to sleep, but then he pulls his arms out and he can't sleep like that. Anyone else have this issue? Any suggestions???
Ok, I'd better get off to bed myself. More posts to come soon. I am running behind on Zane's monthly letter (he turned 5 months on Father's Day) and I haven't written about his adventures in eating cereal (I have lots of pictures too!), so I have some writing to do.
May 08, 2009
Happy 36th Mr. Spicy!
We have come through quite a bit in the last year and our focus has been almost singularly on Zane. So, in honor of Mr. Spicy's 36th birthday I would like to shift the focus to him and list 36 things I love about this man, in no particular order.
1. He continues to rescue stray cats and kittens who become stranded in our backyard, sometimes bringing them food or water, even though this has backfired on him in the past and ended up costing us a small fortune.
2. He can talk to anyone and when he asks people how they are, he really wants to know the answer.
3. He is already an amazing dad. Better than I could have ever hoped for. Zane is one lucky little boy.
4. When we travel to Spanish-speaking countries or just to the corner taqueria, he boldly speaks what Spanish he knows while I am still silently trying to parse together an acceptable and grammatically correct sentence for fear of sounding like an idiot.
5. I brought a cat and a dog into our marriage and he has always loved and cared for them as his own.
6. When we got our youngest dog and he persisted in waking in the middle of the night and whining to be let out for the entire first year, Mr. Spicy got up every night, sometimes more than once, to let him out. And he was kind to him in the process, which is more than I could have done.
7. When Zane was first born and was jaundiced, Mr. Spicy went with him for every blood-draw, comforting Zane and allowing me to sleep.
8. When Zane was under those awful lights at the hospital for his jaundice, Mr. Spicy held him for hours, his arms kinked into the plastic bassinet, supporting his son so he wouldn't feel alone.
9. He got into a heated argument with the Dr. on-call while I was in labor, determined to protect me and to allow my wishes to be heard.
10. He knows what he wants and will persevere until he gets it.
11. He is strong, both in character and physique. (Have you seen his biceps?!)
12. He loves to travel and explore - and he lets me do the research and planning.
13. He LOVES to dance. (He was teaching swing and salsa dancing when we met - yum!)
14. Even though he loves dancing and was in high demand with the ladies back in the day, he chose not to learn the Argentine Tango. He felt it was a dance he specifically wanted to save to dance with his wife some day. He's been hounding me to take Tango lessons with him since we were engaged. (Why haven't I done this yet???)
15. When we are having a hard time or there is tension, he really wants to talk it through. And he will mull over these discussions for days.
16. He calls me "Beautiful" more than he calls me by my name.
17. He shed tears when Zane rolled over for the first time.
18. He loves the ocean and he has shared this passion with me.
19. He dreams big.
20. He is a great swimmer and doesn't mind when I cling to him in fear when we snorkel. (I don't really do this anymore - much)
21. He is a fierce protector of those he cares about.
22. He is driven to excel at all he does.
23. He is crazy smart.
24. He always smells yummy.
25. He takes his current role as sole financial provider for our family really seriously. He works his butt off to make sure we are taken care of.
26. He treats me as an equal in every way.
27. He values what I have to offer our son and tells me all the time what a great mom he thinks I am.
28. He once gave me a book he made of one hundred quotes about love (borrowing from Neruda's 100 Verses of Love) .
29. He is a poet, through and through.
30. He is also an engineer, through and through.
31. He loves fixing things and making things better.
32. He loves to teach and is a phenomenal teacher.
33. He once serenaded me.
34. He lets me sing at the top of my lungs in the car and tells me that he loves it (even though I know I don't sing that well) - and he is the only person I have ever felt safe enough to do that with.
35. In every way he has given me a home.
36. And well....just look at him:
Happy 36th Birthday, Mr. Spicy!
I am still so grateful I am the one who gets to wake up next to you on your special day, and the first to celebrate with you every year.
I love you.
1. He continues to rescue stray cats and kittens who become stranded in our backyard, sometimes bringing them food or water, even though this has backfired on him in the past and ended up costing us a small fortune.
2. He can talk to anyone and when he asks people how they are, he really wants to know the answer.
3. He is already an amazing dad. Better than I could have ever hoped for. Zane is one lucky little boy.
4. When we travel to Spanish-speaking countries or just to the corner taqueria, he boldly speaks what Spanish he knows while I am still silently trying to parse together an acceptable and grammatically correct sentence for fear of sounding like an idiot.
5. I brought a cat and a dog into our marriage and he has always loved and cared for them as his own.
6. When we got our youngest dog and he persisted in waking in the middle of the night and whining to be let out for the entire first year, Mr. Spicy got up every night, sometimes more than once, to let him out. And he was kind to him in the process, which is more than I could have done.
7. When Zane was first born and was jaundiced, Mr. Spicy went with him for every blood-draw, comforting Zane and allowing me to sleep.
8. When Zane was under those awful lights at the hospital for his jaundice, Mr. Spicy held him for hours, his arms kinked into the plastic bassinet, supporting his son so he wouldn't feel alone.
9. He got into a heated argument with the Dr. on-call while I was in labor, determined to protect me and to allow my wishes to be heard.
10. He knows what he wants and will persevere until he gets it.
11. He is strong, both in character and physique. (Have you seen his biceps?!)
12. He loves to travel and explore - and he lets me do the research and planning.
13. He LOVES to dance. (He was teaching swing and salsa dancing when we met - yum!)
14. Even though he loves dancing and was in high demand with the ladies back in the day, he chose not to learn the Argentine Tango. He felt it was a dance he specifically wanted to save to dance with his wife some day. He's been hounding me to take Tango lessons with him since we were engaged. (Why haven't I done this yet???)
15. When we are having a hard time or there is tension, he really wants to talk it through. And he will mull over these discussions for days.
16. He calls me "Beautiful" more than he calls me by my name.
17. He shed tears when Zane rolled over for the first time.
18. He loves the ocean and he has shared this passion with me.
19. He dreams big.
20. He is a great swimmer and doesn't mind when I cling to him in fear when we snorkel. (I don't really do this anymore - much)
21. He is a fierce protector of those he cares about.
22. He is driven to excel at all he does.
23. He is crazy smart.
24. He always smells yummy.
25. He takes his current role as sole financial provider for our family really seriously. He works his butt off to make sure we are taken care of.
26. He treats me as an equal in every way.
27. He values what I have to offer our son and tells me all the time what a great mom he thinks I am.
28. He once gave me a book he made of one hundred quotes about love (borrowing from Neruda's 100 Verses of Love) .
29. He is a poet, through and through.
30. He is also an engineer, through and through.
31. He loves fixing things and making things better.
32. He loves to teach and is a phenomenal teacher.
33. He once serenaded me.
34. He lets me sing at the top of my lungs in the car and tells me that he loves it (even though I know I don't sing that well) - and he is the only person I have ever felt safe enough to do that with.
35. In every way he has given me a home.
36. And well....just look at him:
Happy 36th Birthday, Mr. Spicy!
I am still so grateful I am the one who gets to wake up next to you on your special day, and the first to celebrate with you every year.
I love you.
March 04, 2009
Identity Crisis
6 weeks ago today, my son was born and I became a mother. I entered whole new world and I have been trying to map the terrain ever since.
I knew motherhood would present challenges to my identity. I assumed my fierce independence would be confronted. I assumed my reluctance to define myself would become even more murky. I braced myself for a full-on identity crisis like I experienced when I was first married.
And I do feel strange and out of sorts and like a new baby (thanks for the metaphor, Selena) just trying to find out who I am in this new world of mine. But it isn't quite as hard or as scary as I thought it would be. At least not all the time.
In fact, sometimes it feels like a call into becoming. Becoming someone I have not yet met but know I am meant to be.
There are dozens of moments throughout the day when I get a glimpse of her. When Zane looks at me with utter adoration, when I can comfort him with just the scent of my skin, when I feed him with my own body, when I wake in the middle of the night completely exhausted and still find a smile for him, when I am able to make the choice to be there for him to be present with him even when I would rather check out for awhile - these moments and so many more give me a taste of the woman and mother I am becoming. She is loving, she is strong, she is honest, she is wise, and she is hot! Seriously. In those moments I feel like a total rockstar superhero. When my son looks up at me and smiles I imagine I am glowing with beauty and light.
And then? I look in the mirror. And yeah. Not so much.
Most days I look rather less than a glowing image of motherly light. And far short of a superhero. I look in the mirror - my hair needs serious attention, and though I have pretty much lost my pregnancy weight I am still heavier (and flabbier) than I would like to be, and there are dark circles under my eyes to remind me that in six weeks I have yet to sleep more than four hours or so at a time. And often I am still in my pajamas at 11am. Not hot. But real. This is me. Right now.
Right now.
But I believe that other woman is in me too, just waiting to become. Ok. So maybe I won't morph into some super-hot superhero with a halo of light shining all around me - that's a bit much. But I do believe I am on my way to someone pretty cool. And this revelation is completely shocking to me.
Despite my intense longing to become a mom, despite my desire to meet my child - I had (and still have) a lot of the same fears about taking on that role that I did about taking on the role of "wife". I wondered if I would still be me, if my identity, my life thus far, who I am - would be swallowed up by this role, by this other person. I feared my voice, my heart, my mind would become irrelevant. I worried I would have to squeeze myself into some box labeled "Mommy" that society dictated I would now belong in. I feared I would not find my way to my own definition, my own carving out of motherhood, that instead a new identity would be hoisted upon me with all its expectations and rules.
So I expected some inner turmoil - and to be honest, there is some. I have spent the last week challenging my spouse completely unnecessarily, to test him - to be sure he saw and valued my contributions as a Mom staying at home as much as his contributions as a Dad who works outside of the home, to be sure we were still partners in this. Like I said, completely unnecessary - but all about my fear of being forgotten and abandon and dismissed because I am now a "Mom".
Right beside that fear though, and perhaps stronger than it, is the notion that being a mother could actually bring me closer to who I am deep inside and who I am meant to be. This was my hope but I had no idea if it would be met. I still don't. But I do know that when I get those peeks at a future me - a strong, powerful, empowered woman and mother who is filled up and giving from her fullness - that is so enticing and exciting to me.
So, for now, I will give out of my exhaustion and my deep deep love and devotion and I will trust that the road to her will become apparent as I listen to my heart. I believe the greatest gift I can give my son, my husband, and myself is to listen and to follow this road to becoming.
In the meantime, I have two incredible partners in this journey - all of us trying to find our way.
I knew motherhood would present challenges to my identity. I assumed my fierce independence would be confronted. I assumed my reluctance to define myself would become even more murky. I braced myself for a full-on identity crisis like I experienced when I was first married.
And I do feel strange and out of sorts and like a new baby (thanks for the metaphor, Selena) just trying to find out who I am in this new world of mine. But it isn't quite as hard or as scary as I thought it would be. At least not all the time.
In fact, sometimes it feels like a call into becoming. Becoming someone I have not yet met but know I am meant to be.
There are dozens of moments throughout the day when I get a glimpse of her. When Zane looks at me with utter adoration, when I can comfort him with just the scent of my skin, when I feed him with my own body, when I wake in the middle of the night completely exhausted and still find a smile for him, when I am able to make the choice to be there for him to be present with him even when I would rather check out for awhile - these moments and so many more give me a taste of the woman and mother I am becoming. She is loving, she is strong, she is honest, she is wise, and she is hot! Seriously. In those moments I feel like a total rockstar superhero. When my son looks up at me and smiles I imagine I am glowing with beauty and light.
And then? I look in the mirror. And yeah. Not so much.
Most days I look rather less than a glowing image of motherly light. And far short of a superhero. I look in the mirror - my hair needs serious attention, and though I have pretty much lost my pregnancy weight I am still heavier (and flabbier) than I would like to be, and there are dark circles under my eyes to remind me that in six weeks I have yet to sleep more than four hours or so at a time. And often I am still in my pajamas at 11am. Not hot. But real. This is me. Right now.
Right now.
But I believe that other woman is in me too, just waiting to become. Ok. So maybe I won't morph into some super-hot superhero with a halo of light shining all around me - that's a bit much. But I do believe I am on my way to someone pretty cool. And this revelation is completely shocking to me.
Despite my intense longing to become a mom, despite my desire to meet my child - I had (and still have) a lot of the same fears about taking on that role that I did about taking on the role of "wife". I wondered if I would still be me, if my identity, my life thus far, who I am - would be swallowed up by this role, by this other person. I feared my voice, my heart, my mind would become irrelevant. I worried I would have to squeeze myself into some box labeled "Mommy" that society dictated I would now belong in. I feared I would not find my way to my own definition, my own carving out of motherhood, that instead a new identity would be hoisted upon me with all its expectations and rules.
So I expected some inner turmoil - and to be honest, there is some. I have spent the last week challenging my spouse completely unnecessarily, to test him - to be sure he saw and valued my contributions as a Mom staying at home as much as his contributions as a Dad who works outside of the home, to be sure we were still partners in this. Like I said, completely unnecessary - but all about my fear of being forgotten and abandon and dismissed because I am now a "Mom".
Right beside that fear though, and perhaps stronger than it, is the notion that being a mother could actually bring me closer to who I am deep inside and who I am meant to be. This was my hope but I had no idea if it would be met. I still don't. But I do know that when I get those peeks at a future me - a strong, powerful, empowered woman and mother who is filled up and giving from her fullness - that is so enticing and exciting to me.
So, for now, I will give out of my exhaustion and my deep deep love and devotion and I will trust that the road to her will become apparent as I listen to my heart. I believe the greatest gift I can give my son, my husband, and myself is to listen and to follow this road to becoming.
In the meantime, I have two incredible partners in this journey - all of us trying to find our way.
January 13, 2009
40 weeks...
...and no baby yet.
We saw Dr. Z (the male Dr. who is the head of the practice) yesterday because Dr. Honey is out of town (again!). As he had me half-naked up on the table he said, "So. I generally don't like to let women go past 41 weeks. How about we schedule you for an induction this weekend?" I think my jaw dropped, literally. I was totally unprepared for this since Dr. Honey had originally said that as long as all was well with baby we could go to 42 weeks. Thankfully, Dr. Z is observant and before I had a chance to voice my opinion he took one look at my face and said, "You don't want an induction, do you?" And I replied that really, I would rather avoid it if possible.
So - he asked us to come back on Friday for a NST. If all goes well, I will see Dr. Honey again next Tue ( 41 weeks) and she and I can discuss what she thinks about all this. This is assuming Poblano doesn't make his grand entrance by then, of course.
I am not against doing an induction if need be, for medical reasons. I just don't want to do one just because I'm running a little late. Myself and both my sisters came a bit late into this world (one of them at 43 weeks!!!), so I think maybe it just runs in the family. Most my family can't make it anywhere on time to this day - so perhaps he is just following in our footsteps. Not to mention that a large majority of first time moms go past their due dates. So, as long as Poblano looks good and healthy and I am ok - I want to give my body a chance to do what it knows how to do when it is ready and this baby a chance to come when it is right for him.
This doesn't mean I am against helping things along, or clearing the path, if you will. I have been a walking fiend and even did the stairmaster at the gym last night. I did yoga this morning. I saw my acupuncturist this afternoon (she marked the points she triggered so Mr. S can stimulate them at home). I have a tea from my herbalist that is supposed to help ripen my cervix and tone my uterus. She also gave me some homeopathics as well. They are not to induce, just to support the uterus in producing more efficient contractions. I am still on the fence about those though. I am taking Evening Primose Oil, doing warm baths, stretching, doing my "optimal fetal positioning exercises" and yes - having lots of sex (sorry for the TMI). I am also trying to remember to do regular nipple stimulation. Mr. Spicy had me doing it in the car while we drove to the gym last night. Quite the show for the other motorists, I am sure.
But despite all the above (and let me be clear here that I am not religious with any of those things), I think honestly the most important thing for me to do right now is to connect with our baby and to relax and admit that this, like so much else, is really out of my control. No matter what I do - he will come when he is ready. My acupuncturist reminded me that this is one of my life lessons, to learn to let go and understand that things are not in my control. Even after all the work I did with this during our long struggle with IF, I still don't like being in this place. I do not like walking into the unknown. And yet, I will do it again and again and I will struggle with it all the way - because I know that there is so much for me to learn here. And I know there is so much freedom to be had in accepting that I do not have ultimate control. And I think motherhood will require me to face this lesson continually in deeper and harder ways, probably for the rest of my life.
So....we wait. Which depending on the day can feel just fine or completely agonizing. On Sunday I was in bed most of the day and in tears because I was just completely worn out from not sleeping and the aches and pains and the acid reflux and the anxiety and did I mention the not sleeping? I literally went about a week sleeping at most 2-3 hours a night, and even those would be interrupted hours. Then, I would be wide awake the rest of night, only to collapse from exhaustion at about 7am to get another 2 hours of sleep or so. It was seriously making me completely wigged out. Then last night, I slept. I slept. I slept the whole night! (With about a dozen trips to the bathroom of course) I actually kind of freaked when I woke up this morning. I thought surely something was wrong and nervously did a kick count. Poblano was moving just fine. We were both fine. I just felt.....rested. And it was amazing. So, needless to say I am in much much better spirits today. I left the house at 10am for yoga and spent the whole day out running errands and getting stuff done and I felt almost normal again. So today? The waiting doesn't feel so hard. But, after a day out I am tired. So I hope last night wasn't just a fluke.
But enough about me....how about some pictures of me?
Remember when I said I had very special 38 week pictures? Mr. Spicy helped me make a belly cast at 38 weeks. We laughed so hard while doing it - it was really fun. But holy freaking boobs batman! I truly had no idea till I looked at it how incredibly ridiculously huge my breasts are. A good friend of mine did a belly cast with her third pregnancy and she was thoughtful enough to hold her arms in the air while it was being applied so that her boobs would seem more perky. I really wish I would have thought of that too. Regardless. There is my 38 week form, preserved for all time. I am thinking of painting it as an early labor project. We'll see. Mr. Spicy is concerned I will want to mount it on our living room wall and terrorize our visitors with it. Just for that, I made him try it on. So now you all know what my husband might look like if he were 38 weeks pregnant. He is such a good sport! (although he did make me promise not to include his face)
And here are my 40 week belly pictures, behold the giant belly (and the recently appearing stretch marks that I am coming to terms with - ah vanity!):
We saw Dr. Z (the male Dr. who is the head of the practice) yesterday because Dr. Honey is out of town (again!). As he had me half-naked up on the table he said, "So. I generally don't like to let women go past 41 weeks. How about we schedule you for an induction this weekend?" I think my jaw dropped, literally. I was totally unprepared for this since Dr. Honey had originally said that as long as all was well with baby we could go to 42 weeks. Thankfully, Dr. Z is observant and before I had a chance to voice my opinion he took one look at my face and said, "You don't want an induction, do you?" And I replied that really, I would rather avoid it if possible.
So - he asked us to come back on Friday for a NST. If all goes well, I will see Dr. Honey again next Tue ( 41 weeks) and she and I can discuss what she thinks about all this. This is assuming Poblano doesn't make his grand entrance by then, of course.
I am not against doing an induction if need be, for medical reasons. I just don't want to do one just because I'm running a little late. Myself and both my sisters came a bit late into this world (one of them at 43 weeks!!!), so I think maybe it just runs in the family. Most my family can't make it anywhere on time to this day - so perhaps he is just following in our footsteps. Not to mention that a large majority of first time moms go past their due dates. So, as long as Poblano looks good and healthy and I am ok - I want to give my body a chance to do what it knows how to do when it is ready and this baby a chance to come when it is right for him.
This doesn't mean I am against helping things along, or clearing the path, if you will. I have been a walking fiend and even did the stairmaster at the gym last night. I did yoga this morning. I saw my acupuncturist this afternoon (she marked the points she triggered so Mr. S can stimulate them at home). I have a tea from my herbalist that is supposed to help ripen my cervix and tone my uterus. She also gave me some homeopathics as well. They are not to induce, just to support the uterus in producing more efficient contractions. I am still on the fence about those though. I am taking Evening Primose Oil, doing warm baths, stretching, doing my "optimal fetal positioning exercises" and yes - having lots of sex (sorry for the TMI). I am also trying to remember to do regular nipple stimulation. Mr. Spicy had me doing it in the car while we drove to the gym last night. Quite the show for the other motorists, I am sure.
But despite all the above (and let me be clear here that I am not religious with any of those things), I think honestly the most important thing for me to do right now is to connect with our baby and to relax and admit that this, like so much else, is really out of my control. No matter what I do - he will come when he is ready. My acupuncturist reminded me that this is one of my life lessons, to learn to let go and understand that things are not in my control. Even after all the work I did with this during our long struggle with IF, I still don't like being in this place. I do not like walking into the unknown. And yet, I will do it again and again and I will struggle with it all the way - because I know that there is so much for me to learn here. And I know there is so much freedom to be had in accepting that I do not have ultimate control. And I think motherhood will require me to face this lesson continually in deeper and harder ways, probably for the rest of my life.
So....we wait. Which depending on the day can feel just fine or completely agonizing. On Sunday I was in bed most of the day and in tears because I was just completely worn out from not sleeping and the aches and pains and the acid reflux and the anxiety and did I mention the not sleeping? I literally went about a week sleeping at most 2-3 hours a night, and even those would be interrupted hours. Then, I would be wide awake the rest of night, only to collapse from exhaustion at about 7am to get another 2 hours of sleep or so. It was seriously making me completely wigged out. Then last night, I slept. I slept. I slept the whole night! (With about a dozen trips to the bathroom of course) I actually kind of freaked when I woke up this morning. I thought surely something was wrong and nervously did a kick count. Poblano was moving just fine. We were both fine. I just felt.....rested. And it was amazing. So, needless to say I am in much much better spirits today. I left the house at 10am for yoga and spent the whole day out running errands and getting stuff done and I felt almost normal again. So today? The waiting doesn't feel so hard. But, after a day out I am tired. So I hope last night wasn't just a fluke.
But enough about me....how about some pictures of me?
Remember when I said I had very special 38 week pictures? Mr. Spicy helped me make a belly cast at 38 weeks. We laughed so hard while doing it - it was really fun. But holy freaking boobs batman! I truly had no idea till I looked at it how incredibly ridiculously huge my breasts are. A good friend of mine did a belly cast with her third pregnancy and she was thoughtful enough to hold her arms in the air while it was being applied so that her boobs would seem more perky. I really wish I would have thought of that too. Regardless. There is my 38 week form, preserved for all time. I am thinking of painting it as an early labor project. We'll see. Mr. Spicy is concerned I will want to mount it on our living room wall and terrorize our visitors with it. Just for that, I made him try it on. So now you all know what my husband might look like if he were 38 weeks pregnant. He is such a good sport! (although he did make me promise not to include his face)
And here are my 40 week belly pictures, behold the giant belly (and the recently appearing stretch marks that I am coming to terms with - ah vanity!):
January 07, 2009
39 weeks - aka "our first visit to Labor & Delivery" or "Not Complaining Anymore"
Here is how I spent the day yesterday:
10:30am - missed yoga class so I ran errands, had the oil changed in the car, etc, etc
1:30pm - had my 39 week appt with Dr. Honey. Now about 1.5cm dilated and still 50-60% effaced. She did a small amount of "sweeping my membranes" and offered to do this again for me on Thu morning in hopes of getting things moving.
4:00pm - met up with Mr. Spicy to go check out our future pediatrician's office. Took the tour at 4:30, met with a Dr. and a med asst. Decided this is definitely the practice for us and felt very pleased about that.
5:45pm - arrived home, excited to have dinner with a good friend at 7. Began a playful teasing banter with Mr. Spicy.
~~this is where everything changes~~
5:50pm - got out of the car and began walking towards the house - still joking loudly with husband. Caught my shoe in crack of sidewalk and went flying through the air. In a desperate effort not to land directly on my belly, I turn and land on my right side. I end up with a scraped knee, a scraped hand, (later a sore hip), and and elbow to my belly.
5:55pm - make it into the house with Mr. Spicy's help. Call my OB's office. Search Google frantically for information on falling in the third trimester. The Ob on call, and Dr. Google both reccomend heading straight to Labor & Delivery. Holy Shit.
6:05pm - making the 5 minute drive to labor & Delivery, my doula calls. We tell her what is happening and she talks to me and helps me calm down, reminding me to breathe and connect with my body and my baby. I feel Poblano move a few times and the fear becomes a bit less overwhelming. I have a sense things will be ok. We are in this together.
6:10pm - try to get into night entrance at Labor & Delivery but couldn't understand security guard over intercom. He wouldn't let us in because we didn't specifically say the magic words: "We are in labor!" or "This is an emergency!". We drive around to the main entrance and take the long way to L&D. Mr. Spicy is FUMING at this point.
6:15pm - they get us checked in at L&D. Mr. Spicy goes to move our car. He also goes to have a word with the security guard. I sit anxiously hoping he returns soon and isn't arrested for harrassment or worse. The nurses get me hooked up to the monitors, and Mr. Spicy returns. At first Poblano's heartrate looks it flat. It isn't showing the accelerations they normally like to see. More waiting and watching and listening.
7:00pm - now Poblano's heart rate is looking more normal. They move us to one of the nicer labor and delivery rooms because the computer isn't working in the monitoring room I was in. They draw a full panel of blood and everything looks normal. The Dr. on call from my Ob's office has decided to keep us for four hours of observation. We sit, we wait, we listen. I thank God every time I feel Poblano trying to kick the hell out of those damn monitors. I think they are pretty uncomfortable too.
~~ hours pass, Mr. Spicy gets us Thai food, we eat, watch TV and begin to feel confident things will be ok~~
10:00pm - resident Ob does an u/s - more for our benefit than anything. He is so squished in there, you can't really get a decent shot. But his head is down in my pelvis, and his back is to my left side, with his legs curled over and filling the right side. We see the top of his head, his spine, his heart, his femur - he looks gorgeous to me. He has plenty of fluid and the placenta looks as it should for 39 weeks. HUGE sigh of relief!
11:00pm - another blood draw to compare to the first. The phlebotomist is really rough with his technique and bruises me. But, I don't even wince. I am sure this will be the last step before I get to go home, reassured all is well with our little boy. And that is all that matters.
11:30pm - our nurse comes in. Bad news. My hematocrit has dropped from 38 to 31. This could signify internal bleeding. Or it could be lab error. Either way, they are now telling us we will be staying overnight. We have another blood draw scheduled at 3am. The nurse tries to reassure us. She says first: "Sometimes there's a small bleed and it heals itself." then she says, "But if the next test comes back lower - we will probably induce just to get him out of there." INDUCE! INDUCE!? Shit! Mr. Spicy runs home to let the dogs out and comes back with our "labor bag" just in case. He falls asleep on the bench/bed next to my bed. I stay awake - my mind swimming with the idea that we could be induced in just a few hours. I am exhausted and really uncomfortable from trying to find a way to comfortably sit/lie with those montors attached. I am sore from my fall. I don't know if I was induced if I would have the strength or determination to go through labor right now. I am an emotional wreck from the events of the evening and I could desperately use some sleep. Instead, I watch the clock - walk myself through the "what ifs" - pray - and wait for 3am.
3am - finally. a different phlebotomist arrives. A kind man, probably in his forties with a thick accent. He is much more gentle and wishes me luck. I am grateful for his kindness. I hope it is a good sign of things to come.
3:30am - Our nurse comes in. I am just coming out of the bathroom. My last hematocrit looks great. I didn't even ask for a number, I just was so relieved. She tells us we can stop the monitoring (Poblano's been looking awesome all night long!) and we can sleep till 7, or leave now - whichever we prefer. I wake up Mr. Spicy to tell him the good news. We both agree we'd rather be home. We pack up our stuff, get our discharge info and head home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After everything works out, after I know my baby boy is ok and so am I - I feel guilty. Guilty for falling. Guilty for taking up so much time - from Mr. Spicy, from the nurses and doctors.....from everyone. I feel like the girl who cried wolf. I feel uncomfortable with the amount of attention and resources I have drawn to myself. Mr. Spicy assures me the fall was not my fault, and that we did all the right things. He reminds me that neither of us would have slept or probably exhaled the entire night had we not gone in to the hospital and made sure our son was ok. He is right. He is completely right. I just wish I had paid more attention and not fallen in the first place.
I also realize that I no longer feel any room or desire to complain about being uncomfortable or feeling so "ready" for Poblano to come. I don't care anymore. I don't care if he decides to stay in there another 2 weeks. I just want him safe and sound. And he can get here whenever he is ready. The most comforting thing in the world was hearing his heart beat all night long. I got home and could still hear it in my head - the phantom of the monitors wooshing away next to my ear. It had been less than an hour and already I missed hearing him - having some tangible outside proof of him, of his health and strength.
Lastly, even though the nurses and doctors treated us incredibly well and the accomodations were as comfortable as they could be - this visit really cemented my desire to labor at home as long as possible. No matter what they do, the hospital is just no match for home. And even though I was only on external monitors - I realized how limiting and uncomfortable those could be - even just on an intermittent basis - when I am trying to move and adjust and deal with contractions. So. As long as I am doing well, and Poblano is moving around, we will try to stay home during labor as long as we can. We are literally 5 minutes from the hospital and my Dr. fully suports this plan. But - I also realized from our stay last night, how compassionate and helpful the nurses and Dr.s (and even the phlebotomists) are and can be. I realized that if our plan goes awry, if we spend more time there than we hope to - we will be in really good hands. And that is a huge relief.
On our "to do" list before Poblano arrives, Mr. Spicy had written: "Make several practice runs to Labor & Delivery" - we are so close that this is kind of laughable, but he wanted to be prepared. So, as we were leaving last night I told him I thought we had filled that requirement. We hadn't only done a practice run, we'd done a whole "practice stay". He laughed and asked, "Why do we always have to be the overachievers on everything?!"
10:30am - missed yoga class so I ran errands, had the oil changed in the car, etc, etc
1:30pm - had my 39 week appt with Dr. Honey. Now about 1.5cm dilated and still 50-60% effaced. She did a small amount of "sweeping my membranes" and offered to do this again for me on Thu morning in hopes of getting things moving.
4:00pm - met up with Mr. Spicy to go check out our future pediatrician's office. Took the tour at 4:30, met with a Dr. and a med asst. Decided this is definitely the practice for us and felt very pleased about that.
5:45pm - arrived home, excited to have dinner with a good friend at 7. Began a playful teasing banter with Mr. Spicy.
~~this is where everything changes~~
5:50pm - got out of the car and began walking towards the house - still joking loudly with husband. Caught my shoe in crack of sidewalk and went flying through the air. In a desperate effort not to land directly on my belly, I turn and land on my right side. I end up with a scraped knee, a scraped hand, (later a sore hip), and and elbow to my belly.
5:55pm - make it into the house with Mr. Spicy's help. Call my OB's office. Search Google frantically for information on falling in the third trimester. The Ob on call, and Dr. Google both reccomend heading straight to Labor & Delivery. Holy Shit.
6:05pm - making the 5 minute drive to labor & Delivery, my doula calls. We tell her what is happening and she talks to me and helps me calm down, reminding me to breathe and connect with my body and my baby. I feel Poblano move a few times and the fear becomes a bit less overwhelming. I have a sense things will be ok. We are in this together.
6:10pm - try to get into night entrance at Labor & Delivery but couldn't understand security guard over intercom. He wouldn't let us in because we didn't specifically say the magic words: "We are in labor!" or "This is an emergency!". We drive around to the main entrance and take the long way to L&D. Mr. Spicy is FUMING at this point.
6:15pm - they get us checked in at L&D. Mr. Spicy goes to move our car. He also goes to have a word with the security guard. I sit anxiously hoping he returns soon and isn't arrested for harrassment or worse. The nurses get me hooked up to the monitors, and Mr. Spicy returns. At first Poblano's heartrate looks it flat. It isn't showing the accelerations they normally like to see. More waiting and watching and listening.
7:00pm - now Poblano's heart rate is looking more normal. They move us to one of the nicer labor and delivery rooms because the computer isn't working in the monitoring room I was in. They draw a full panel of blood and everything looks normal. The Dr. on call from my Ob's office has decided to keep us for four hours of observation. We sit, we wait, we listen. I thank God every time I feel Poblano trying to kick the hell out of those damn monitors. I think they are pretty uncomfortable too.
~~ hours pass, Mr. Spicy gets us Thai food, we eat, watch TV and begin to feel confident things will be ok~~
10:00pm - resident Ob does an u/s - more for our benefit than anything. He is so squished in there, you can't really get a decent shot. But his head is down in my pelvis, and his back is to my left side, with his legs curled over and filling the right side. We see the top of his head, his spine, his heart, his femur - he looks gorgeous to me. He has plenty of fluid and the placenta looks as it should for 39 weeks. HUGE sigh of relief!
11:00pm - another blood draw to compare to the first. The phlebotomist is really rough with his technique and bruises me. But, I don't even wince. I am sure this will be the last step before I get to go home, reassured all is well with our little boy. And that is all that matters.
11:30pm - our nurse comes in. Bad news. My hematocrit has dropped from 38 to 31. This could signify internal bleeding. Or it could be lab error. Either way, they are now telling us we will be staying overnight. We have another blood draw scheduled at 3am. The nurse tries to reassure us. She says first: "Sometimes there's a small bleed and it heals itself." then she says, "But if the next test comes back lower - we will probably induce just to get him out of there." INDUCE! INDUCE!? Shit! Mr. Spicy runs home to let the dogs out and comes back with our "labor bag" just in case. He falls asleep on the bench/bed next to my bed. I stay awake - my mind swimming with the idea that we could be induced in just a few hours. I am exhausted and really uncomfortable from trying to find a way to comfortably sit/lie with those montors attached. I am sore from my fall. I don't know if I was induced if I would have the strength or determination to go through labor right now. I am an emotional wreck from the events of the evening and I could desperately use some sleep. Instead, I watch the clock - walk myself through the "what ifs" - pray - and wait for 3am.
3am - finally. a different phlebotomist arrives. A kind man, probably in his forties with a thick accent. He is much more gentle and wishes me luck. I am grateful for his kindness. I hope it is a good sign of things to come.
3:30am - Our nurse comes in. I am just coming out of the bathroom. My last hematocrit looks great. I didn't even ask for a number, I just was so relieved. She tells us we can stop the monitoring (Poblano's been looking awesome all night long!) and we can sleep till 7, or leave now - whichever we prefer. I wake up Mr. Spicy to tell him the good news. We both agree we'd rather be home. We pack up our stuff, get our discharge info and head home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After everything works out, after I know my baby boy is ok and so am I - I feel guilty. Guilty for falling. Guilty for taking up so much time - from Mr. Spicy, from the nurses and doctors.....from everyone. I feel like the girl who cried wolf. I feel uncomfortable with the amount of attention and resources I have drawn to myself. Mr. Spicy assures me the fall was not my fault, and that we did all the right things. He reminds me that neither of us would have slept or probably exhaled the entire night had we not gone in to the hospital and made sure our son was ok. He is right. He is completely right. I just wish I had paid more attention and not fallen in the first place.
I also realize that I no longer feel any room or desire to complain about being uncomfortable or feeling so "ready" for Poblano to come. I don't care anymore. I don't care if he decides to stay in there another 2 weeks. I just want him safe and sound. And he can get here whenever he is ready. The most comforting thing in the world was hearing his heart beat all night long. I got home and could still hear it in my head - the phantom of the monitors wooshing away next to my ear. It had been less than an hour and already I missed hearing him - having some tangible outside proof of him, of his health and strength.
Lastly, even though the nurses and doctors treated us incredibly well and the accomodations were as comfortable as they could be - this visit really cemented my desire to labor at home as long as possible. No matter what they do, the hospital is just no match for home. And even though I was only on external monitors - I realized how limiting and uncomfortable those could be - even just on an intermittent basis - when I am trying to move and adjust and deal with contractions. So. As long as I am doing well, and Poblano is moving around, we will try to stay home during labor as long as we can. We are literally 5 minutes from the hospital and my Dr. fully suports this plan. But - I also realized from our stay last night, how compassionate and helpful the nurses and Dr.s (and even the phlebotomists) are and can be. I realized that if our plan goes awry, if we spend more time there than we hope to - we will be in really good hands. And that is a huge relief.
On our "to do" list before Poblano arrives, Mr. Spicy had written: "Make several practice runs to Labor & Delivery" - we are so close that this is kind of laughable, but he wanted to be prepared. So, as we were leaving last night I told him I thought we had filled that requirement. We hadn't only done a practice run, we'd done a whole "practice stay". He laughed and asked, "Why do we always have to be the overachievers on everything?!"
January 04, 2009
I'm sorry to inform you that you have a boring, normal pregnancy...
That's what the Dr. told us on Friday. We (Mr. Spicy is home on mandatory "vacation" till the 5th) saw Dr. Z, the only male doctor in the practice, since Dr. Honey is also on vacation this week.
He is quite gregarious and funny. He listened to Poblano's heart beating on the doppler, took my measurements and announced that we were boringly normal. My uterus measures perfectly at 38, Poblano's heartrate was perfectly within the normal range, my blood pressure was normal and even a bit low for this stage, and.....I am STILL just 1 cm dilated. BUT! I am now 60% effaced, whereas last week I was still "thick".
Dr. Z demonstrated a great analogy for us on effacement, for Mr. Spicy's benefit. He related it to pulling a knit cap over one's head, when the cap is completely down over the head this equals 100% effacement and all that is left is for the top of the cap to open (like the cervix dilating). He said where I am at is completely normal for a first time pregnancy and suggested we have more "sexual intercourse". Mr. Spicy perked up at that prescription!
It was a good visit and Dr. Z made us laugh. Especially when he "stepped out of hitting range" as he advised us that we were likely to make it to our due date and possibly a bit further. I deliberately scheduled this visit with him because we hadn't met yet and since there is no gaurantee of which Dr. I will get at delivery, I wanted to at least meet him ahead of time so I wouldn't feel caught off guard if some strange male Dr. arrived to deliver my baby. I tend to choose female doctors and especially in the gynecological realm - so it was good to meet him and find him to be really pleasant (and gentle! which is a HUGE plus!).
And....THANK YOU ALL so much for your reassurances and encouragement with my last post. I am actually suddenly feeling somewhat better and my anxiety is passing. I feel much more relaxed about the coming of our Poblano and have decided to just let go and let him come when he is good and ready. (of course, I am still walking, still doing my exercises, still eating spicy food, and still following Dr. Z's instructions - just to help things along) I am a little nervous about going overdue - just in terms of avoiding interventions and such. But, mostly I am trying to enjoy these last days with my husband and with this little one inside of me - knowing he will be here very very soon. Thanks for letting me wig out a bit though, and assuring me that I am not just a big fat whiny brat.
Also - I have a very special 38 week belly picture. But, I may be lazy and just wait to post it till 39 weeks (only 2 days away!). Thanks again!!!
He is quite gregarious and funny. He listened to Poblano's heart beating on the doppler, took my measurements and announced that we were boringly normal. My uterus measures perfectly at 38, Poblano's heartrate was perfectly within the normal range, my blood pressure was normal and even a bit low for this stage, and.....I am STILL just 1 cm dilated. BUT! I am now 60% effaced, whereas last week I was still "thick".
Dr. Z demonstrated a great analogy for us on effacement, for Mr. Spicy's benefit. He related it to pulling a knit cap over one's head, when the cap is completely down over the head this equals 100% effacement and all that is left is for the top of the cap to open (like the cervix dilating). He said where I am at is completely normal for a first time pregnancy and suggested we have more "sexual intercourse". Mr. Spicy perked up at that prescription!
It was a good visit and Dr. Z made us laugh. Especially when he "stepped out of hitting range" as he advised us that we were likely to make it to our due date and possibly a bit further. I deliberately scheduled this visit with him because we hadn't met yet and since there is no gaurantee of which Dr. I will get at delivery, I wanted to at least meet him ahead of time so I wouldn't feel caught off guard if some strange male Dr. arrived to deliver my baby. I tend to choose female doctors and especially in the gynecological realm - so it was good to meet him and find him to be really pleasant (and gentle! which is a HUGE plus!).
And....THANK YOU ALL so much for your reassurances and encouragement with my last post. I am actually suddenly feeling somewhat better and my anxiety is passing. I feel much more relaxed about the coming of our Poblano and have decided to just let go and let him come when he is good and ready. (of course, I am still walking, still doing my exercises, still eating spicy food, and still following Dr. Z's instructions - just to help things along) I am a little nervous about going overdue - just in terms of avoiding interventions and such. But, mostly I am trying to enjoy these last days with my husband and with this little one inside of me - knowing he will be here very very soon. Thanks for letting me wig out a bit though, and assuring me that I am not just a big fat whiny brat.
Also - I have a very special 38 week belly picture. But, I may be lazy and just wait to post it till 39 weeks (only 2 days away!). Thanks again!!!
November 17, 2008
Monday is for Music
I am not really musically talented in any way. I took violin lessons in elementary school for a year (I think) and really liked it. (Although, I was really into country music at that time and tried to play it with furious speed like a fiddle, in my closet) But that was really my only "formal" music education.
I did land a spot as lead singer in a funky band in Chicago when I was 20 and it was totally a dream come true. But, honestly? I am not a particularly gifted singer either.
But I love music. I loooooovvvvvveeee it. Not necessarily in the same way a musically educated person would appreciate it. No, I think it's the poet in me - but I love music that reaches something deep inside of me and either gives it a voice or speaks to it. I love when a song can catch my breath and cause tears to well up in my eyes. Or, when music makes my whole body want to move and dance. There is a soul language in music that I am drawn to.
Because of this, there are certain artists or groups that I become very devoted to. They become like close friends, confessors, prophets, teachers.....and I go back to them again and again.
Last night, as Mr. Spicy and I sat in our car outside of our birthing class, one of these groups - a group that we have both been devoted to for years, a group that has for us separately and together, acted as a soundtrack through many many important seasons in our lives - U2, came on the radio. Without even speaking, Mr. Spicy reached over and turned up the radio. We sat in silence and as the song began, first I began singing, then he began singing, until we were both singing at the top of our lungs and tears were being wiped from our eyes as we sang along, "I'm wide awake....." - offering these words up to something bigger, as a prayer, as a gratitude, as a realization that we are here in this moment, this is our lives, this is our world, this is really happening - the good, the bad, all of it. We are not sleeping.
And that, for me, was like attending a church - inhabiting a sacred space, praying, crying out, and being ministered to all at once.
I have experiences like this fairly often and thought maybe I would start sharing what song has moved me that week, right here. I am not promising to do it weekly, as consistency isn't always my strong suit. But - eh, here's the first installment. And hey, if you want to - why don't you join in and post an important song for you on your blog and put the link in my comments? Then I will add you to a list on my blog and we can have our own little Monday music party. Even if you don't blog about it, I would love to hear what music is moving you right now, and why?
This week's song was "Bad" by U2. I am embedding the video for it and the lyrics will follow.
I am madly, insanely, without remorse, in love with Bono. I know he is a flawed human being like the rest of us. I know his wife probably rolls her eyes at him from time to time, just like I do to Mr. Spicy. But wow. When he sings? I honestly feel he is channeling the divine. I am completely certain he is a prophet, speaking to the hearts, the minds, the suffering, and the glory of our time.
So many of U2's songs hold immense meaning and power. They feel like prayers, like challenges, like places of comfort and hope and lament. And depending what is happening with me at any given time, what speaks to me in any particular song of theirs can dramatically shift. It is like reading a sacred text. It feels alive and able to bring different meanings depending on when and by whom it is heard. Their understanding of the human condition, of suffering, of the heart, their passion for social justice and change - and their ability to communicate that...wow.
So, without further ado.....here it is:
Bad - U2
If you twist and turn away
If you tear yourself in two again
If I could, yes I would
If I could, I would
Let it go
Surrender
Dislocate
If I could throw this
Lifeless lifeline to the wind
Leave this heart of clay
See you walk, walk away
Into the night
And through the rain
Into the half-light
And through the flame
If I could through myself
Set your spirit free
I'd lead your heart away
See you break, break away
Into the light
And to the day
To let it go
And so to fade away
To let it go
And so fade away
I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake
Wide awake
I'm not sleeping
Oh, no, no, no
If you should ask then maybe they'd
Tell you what I would say
True colors fly in blue and black
Blue silken sky and burning flag
Colors crash, collide in blood shot eyes
If I could, you know I would
If I could, I would
Let it go...
This desperation
Dislocation
Separation
Condemnation
Revelation
In temptation
Isolation
Desolation
Let it go
And so fade away
To let it go
And so fade away
To let it go
And so to fade away
I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake
Wide awake
I'm not sleeping
Oh, no, no, no
I did land a spot as lead singer in a funky band in Chicago when I was 20 and it was totally a dream come true. But, honestly? I am not a particularly gifted singer either.
But I love music. I loooooovvvvvveeee it. Not necessarily in the same way a musically educated person would appreciate it. No, I think it's the poet in me - but I love music that reaches something deep inside of me and either gives it a voice or speaks to it. I love when a song can catch my breath and cause tears to well up in my eyes. Or, when music makes my whole body want to move and dance. There is a soul language in music that I am drawn to.
Because of this, there are certain artists or groups that I become very devoted to. They become like close friends, confessors, prophets, teachers.....and I go back to them again and again.
Last night, as Mr. Spicy and I sat in our car outside of our birthing class, one of these groups - a group that we have both been devoted to for years, a group that has for us separately and together, acted as a soundtrack through many many important seasons in our lives - U2, came on the radio. Without even speaking, Mr. Spicy reached over and turned up the radio. We sat in silence and as the song began, first I began singing, then he began singing, until we were both singing at the top of our lungs and tears were being wiped from our eyes as we sang along, "I'm wide awake....." - offering these words up to something bigger, as a prayer, as a gratitude, as a realization that we are here in this moment, this is our lives, this is our world, this is really happening - the good, the bad, all of it. We are not sleeping.
And that, for me, was like attending a church - inhabiting a sacred space, praying, crying out, and being ministered to all at once.
I have experiences like this fairly often and thought maybe I would start sharing what song has moved me that week, right here. I am not promising to do it weekly, as consistency isn't always my strong suit. But - eh, here's the first installment. And hey, if you want to - why don't you join in and post an important song for you on your blog and put the link in my comments? Then I will add you to a list on my blog and we can have our own little Monday music party. Even if you don't blog about it, I would love to hear what music is moving you right now, and why?
This week's song was "Bad" by U2. I am embedding the video for it and the lyrics will follow.
I am madly, insanely, without remorse, in love with Bono. I know he is a flawed human being like the rest of us. I know his wife probably rolls her eyes at him from time to time, just like I do to Mr. Spicy. But wow. When he sings? I honestly feel he is channeling the divine. I am completely certain he is a prophet, speaking to the hearts, the minds, the suffering, and the glory of our time.
So many of U2's songs hold immense meaning and power. They feel like prayers, like challenges, like places of comfort and hope and lament. And depending what is happening with me at any given time, what speaks to me in any particular song of theirs can dramatically shift. It is like reading a sacred text. It feels alive and able to bring different meanings depending on when and by whom it is heard. Their understanding of the human condition, of suffering, of the heart, their passion for social justice and change - and their ability to communicate that...wow.
So, without further ado.....here it is:
Bad - U2
If you twist and turn away
If you tear yourself in two again
If I could, yes I would
If I could, I would
Let it go
Surrender
Dislocate
If I could throw this
Lifeless lifeline to the wind
Leave this heart of clay
See you walk, walk away
Into the night
And through the rain
Into the half-light
And through the flame
If I could through myself
Set your spirit free
I'd lead your heart away
See you break, break away
Into the light
And to the day
To let it go
And so to fade away
To let it go
And so fade away
I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake
Wide awake
I'm not sleeping
Oh, no, no, no
If you should ask then maybe they'd
Tell you what I would say
True colors fly in blue and black
Blue silken sky and burning flag
Colors crash, collide in blood shot eyes
If I could, you know I would
If I could, I would
Let it go...
This desperation
Dislocation
Separation
Condemnation
Revelation
In temptation
Isolation
Desolation
Let it go
And so fade away
To let it go
And so fade away
To let it go
And so to fade away
I'm wide awake
I'm wide awake
Wide awake
I'm not sleeping
Oh, no, no, no
October 16, 2008
The perspective of the rain...
Three years ago we took a trip to Costa Rica, our first there together. We backpacked through the country, catching buses, staying in cheap hotels....it was magical.
Midway through the journey we arrived in a mountain town, high in the cloud forest, called Monteverde. We arrived by way of a rickety old bus driven precariously through the mountain roads. We got into town around noon or so and quickly found rustic and affordable lodging. We unpacked a bit and prepared to explore the area in the afternoon.
I don't remember exactly where we were when it began raining that day. Had we already left the room? Had we made it into "town"? I honestly can't say. But I do remember that it began to rain with such force and fury at 2pm in the afternoon that it felt as if the whole sky might indeed fall in upon us. The air was replaced by sheets and sheets of torrential rain released out of some invisible faucet above. It seemed that there could not possibly be that much water in the entire world.
People retreated from the streets, the bright afternoon darkened. It felt oppressive. And we wondered how long it would continue. But then, about 4pm, like clockwork, the faucet was turned off, the sun came out again, although muted by the clouds that area is known for, and it was all over.
We found out quickly through locals that in May this was pretty much standard for Monteverde, every day there would be these short intense rains beginning around 2pm. We just needed to plan accordingly. So, the next day we planned around the rain, had a fabulous morning, and by the time the rain hit we were happily enjoying Costa Rican coffee in a coffee shop and marveling at the beauty and power of nature.
It's all in the perspective isn't it?
A week and a half ago we were holed up in a luxurious hotel room, enjoying a blissful, romantic babymoon. (ironically, payed for almost entirely with rewards from our credit card, the one we used for many of our IVF expenses) We were well fed, well rested, thoroughly romanced and our internal emotional buckets were full for the first time in a long time. We laughed at our usual worries and talked about the things to come with a sense of peace. We were happy and content.
Then we returned home and within days the first rumblings of thunder began.
Mr. Spicy had decided to accept an offer at another company and after returning from our babymoon, gave notice to the team of people he had helped build and lead for six years. And a whole host of complications surrounding that decision came up like the first drops of impending rain - that we were not expecting.
The tension continued to build around his job stuff, our finances, future concerns we had been able to laugh at only days before.
And then, we decided (well, Mr. Spicy decided) to take in a cat. Seems harmless enough right? She had been crying and crying at our back door for a couple of days, she wanted in, she wanted petting, she wanted food. She was obviously not just another neighborhood alleycat. She had been with people before. Mr. Spicy began bringing her tuna on the deck, and before too long she had moved in - complete with a litterbox and premium cat food. I checked everywhere for someone who might be looking for her, but had no luck. We decided to keep her "for now" and talk about maybe trying to find her a good home after we had vaccinated and spayed her. The best laid plans....as they say.
Well, a few nights ago she began having diarrhea, and it got all over her back end. Mr. Spicy, trying to be helpful, grabbed a spray bottle of dog/cat cleaner and another spray bottle of what he assumed to be water to clean her up. He got her all clean, things seemed well, we went to bed. When we awoke the next morning we found the kitty curled up in a ball on our couch, growling in pain, we couldn't touch her without her yowling. I then noticed the cleaning supplies from the night before and realized that Mr. Spicy had sprayed the kitty, not with water, but with a solution I had mixed up for cleaning our kitchen. It was water, vinegar, and multiple essential oils. The essential oils I used were precisely the kind that are toxic to cats if ingested in large amounts. We feared we had accidentally poisoned our kitty.
We rushed her to the vet hospital for two days of IV fluids, multiple medications, much hand wringing on our part, and literally hundreds of dollars spent. In the hospital she spiked extremely high fevers and it became clear that we may not have had a role in her sudden illness at all. She may have simply had a severe infection. Regardless, we have now bought and paid for a cat - full on. We felt sick at the thought that we may have accidentally harmed her, we felt worried and sad for the little kitty who had so sweetly chosen our home to invade, and we felt anxious and ambivalent about all the money we were spending - money we really didn't have to spare - for a kitty we had only known for a week. We never regretted taking her in, doing the right thing for her - but those two days really took their toll on us.
During that same 48 hours, the truck that Mr. Spicy drives to work, the 19 year old monster of a truck with a broken door lock, the truck we knew we would need to replace in the next year - well, it sort of died. In reality, a major component of the truck died, and it is simply not worth it to put the money into it to replace it. But, if you can imagine - we were dealing with uber-expensive sick kitty in the hospital and the thought of needing to replace a vehicle, basically all at once.
And the rain came pouring down.
It felt very much like that oppressive rain storm our first day in Monteverde, I couldn't catch my breath, there were too many things happening at once - and too much we simply didn't have a buffer for, financially or otherwise. I sunk quickly into feeling sorry for myself, for us. Why was all this happening at once? How could we possibly take on more debt just as everything was changing? Soon, Mr. Spicy would start his new job, soon we will have a new baby - now we have to buy a car, pay vet bills, and we still have to pay for baby stuff and a doula, and Christmas....and and.....anxiety ensues. And the torrential downpour just gets louder.
But then? Then we remembered some "emergency" money we had stashed away. Not enough to fully cover the vet bills, but enough to make a big dent. And, probably more importantly, we remembered we were not alone. I called my dad who has an extra car he doesn't use regularly and asked if we could borrow it for a little while to give us time to buy a car. Not only did he gladly and generously offer it to us, but he made it clear we could borrow it for as long as we need to save up for a good car, a car that will be safe and dependable and actually fit our needs. Which was such a huge relief that I began to cry.
It is such a typically "American" and an extremely indulgent problem to have: the need to buy a car. I mean really. I wish I was someone who was able to simply figure out how to do without one. But for now, with Mr. Spicy working so far away and needing to be able to travel to different offices throughout the day, and with my nanny work - we aren't able to creatively work out another option just yet . And yes, how ridiculous to cry over a car, over maybe having to purchase an old, high mileage vehicle because that is all we could could afford right now - "Oh noes!" I know, I know - it could be so so much worse. And I feel sufficiently ridiculous about it. But knowing we can wait, wait till Mr. Spicy is comfortably settled into his new job, wait till our little Poblano makes his appearance, wait till we have a bit more saved from bonuses and tax returns to make this large purchase more reasonable and less rushed - well, it was like the rain just suddenly stopped pouring. And the sun came out. And I could take a full breath again.
And now? I look back over the past week and feel a bit silly and embarrassed. Somehow, I let this strange and admittedly stressful sequence of circumstances send me into a dark and fearful place. I am not surprised I ended up there, not surprised I possibly became WAY more stressed out than was necessary, not surprised that I allowed these events to invade my psyche and convince me once again that I could not rest, I am not safe, the world is dangerous and unpredictable, and we are all alone in it. I am not surprised. I am dismayed. I don't deny that we had a stressful cocktail of events all at once - I don't blame us for letting those effect us. But now that it has stopped raining, or at least for the most part - Now that our new kitty (her name is Tallulah by the way) is home safe and sound and just as sweet and loving as ever - Now that my dad and stepmom have reached out to us in this generous and loving way........
Well, now I can see that it wasn't the rainstorm meant to drown us, or ruin us - it was simply a short and powerful storm that has cleared up relatively quickly. We weren't drowned, we didn't lose much more than money and an old truck that was on its way out anyhow - we are ok. Sure, as Mr. Spicy makes this next big transition, it will be hard - we will both grieve the people he is leaving, the people he has known for 6 years, we will both feel anxious about the new expectations and new environment for him. He will be under some stress as he navigates his way into this new world. But we are ok. He is ok. Our kitty is ok. We are all ok.
I know part of my heightened reaction is due to pregnancy. And even if it isn't - that's my excuse and I am sticking to it! But I also know that some of it is just me, just us - and how we respond when things go off track for us. We have friends who face enormously stressful situations with so much more grace and so much more ability to simply shrug and move forward, doing what needs to be done. We get there eventually - but not without much gnashing of teeth, inner-soul-searching, and moaning and rolling on the floor. Ok, maybe not rolling on the floor...but you get my drift.
I just wish sometimes we could remember the perspective of that second day in Monteverde, the knowing that the rain would not last forever, was not going to harm us - that we would be ok. I wish we could find ourselves in a cafe, sipping coffee, waiting out the rain, and not losing sight of the beauty and power all around us in the midst of it. I wish we more regularly were the ones helping others out of the rain rather than needing that help so much for ourselves.
I am grateful that the rain was as short as it was. I am grateful for the lessons we have learned even in that short time. I am grateful for the perspective I have this morning, and that it didn't take me longer to get here. I am grateful we are fortunate enough that these were our worries.
Maybe next time I will not be so frightened when it begins to rain. Maybe next time I will remember.....
Midway through the journey we arrived in a mountain town, high in the cloud forest, called Monteverde. We arrived by way of a rickety old bus driven precariously through the mountain roads. We got into town around noon or so and quickly found rustic and affordable lodging. We unpacked a bit and prepared to explore the area in the afternoon.
I don't remember exactly where we were when it began raining that day. Had we already left the room? Had we made it into "town"? I honestly can't say. But I do remember that it began to rain with such force and fury at 2pm in the afternoon that it felt as if the whole sky might indeed fall in upon us. The air was replaced by sheets and sheets of torrential rain released out of some invisible faucet above. It seemed that there could not possibly be that much water in the entire world.
People retreated from the streets, the bright afternoon darkened. It felt oppressive. And we wondered how long it would continue. But then, about 4pm, like clockwork, the faucet was turned off, the sun came out again, although muted by the clouds that area is known for, and it was all over.
We found out quickly through locals that in May this was pretty much standard for Monteverde, every day there would be these short intense rains beginning around 2pm. We just needed to plan accordingly. So, the next day we planned around the rain, had a fabulous morning, and by the time the rain hit we were happily enjoying Costa Rican coffee in a coffee shop and marveling at the beauty and power of nature.
It's all in the perspective isn't it?
A week and a half ago we were holed up in a luxurious hotel room, enjoying a blissful, romantic babymoon. (ironically, payed for almost entirely with rewards from our credit card, the one we used for many of our IVF expenses) We were well fed, well rested, thoroughly romanced and our internal emotional buckets were full for the first time in a long time. We laughed at our usual worries and talked about the things to come with a sense of peace. We were happy and content.
Then we returned home and within days the first rumblings of thunder began.
Mr. Spicy had decided to accept an offer at another company and after returning from our babymoon, gave notice to the team of people he had helped build and lead for six years. And a whole host of complications surrounding that decision came up like the first drops of impending rain - that we were not expecting.
The tension continued to build around his job stuff, our finances, future concerns we had been able to laugh at only days before.
And then, we decided (well, Mr. Spicy decided) to take in a cat. Seems harmless enough right? She had been crying and crying at our back door for a couple of days, she wanted in, she wanted petting, she wanted food. She was obviously not just another neighborhood alleycat. She had been with people before. Mr. Spicy began bringing her tuna on the deck, and before too long she had moved in - complete with a litterbox and premium cat food. I checked everywhere for someone who might be looking for her, but had no luck. We decided to keep her "for now" and talk about maybe trying to find her a good home after we had vaccinated and spayed her. The best laid plans....as they say.
Well, a few nights ago she began having diarrhea, and it got all over her back end. Mr. Spicy, trying to be helpful, grabbed a spray bottle of dog/cat cleaner and another spray bottle of what he assumed to be water to clean her up. He got her all clean, things seemed well, we went to bed. When we awoke the next morning we found the kitty curled up in a ball on our couch, growling in pain, we couldn't touch her without her yowling. I then noticed the cleaning supplies from the night before and realized that Mr. Spicy had sprayed the kitty, not with water, but with a solution I had mixed up for cleaning our kitchen. It was water, vinegar, and multiple essential oils. The essential oils I used were precisely the kind that are toxic to cats if ingested in large amounts. We feared we had accidentally poisoned our kitty.
We rushed her to the vet hospital for two days of IV fluids, multiple medications, much hand wringing on our part, and literally hundreds of dollars spent. In the hospital she spiked extremely high fevers and it became clear that we may not have had a role in her sudden illness at all. She may have simply had a severe infection. Regardless, we have now bought and paid for a cat - full on. We felt sick at the thought that we may have accidentally harmed her, we felt worried and sad for the little kitty who had so sweetly chosen our home to invade, and we felt anxious and ambivalent about all the money we were spending - money we really didn't have to spare - for a kitty we had only known for a week. We never regretted taking her in, doing the right thing for her - but those two days really took their toll on us.
During that same 48 hours, the truck that Mr. Spicy drives to work, the 19 year old monster of a truck with a broken door lock, the truck we knew we would need to replace in the next year - well, it sort of died. In reality, a major component of the truck died, and it is simply not worth it to put the money into it to replace it. But, if you can imagine - we were dealing with uber-expensive sick kitty in the hospital and the thought of needing to replace a vehicle, basically all at once.
And the rain came pouring down.
It felt very much like that oppressive rain storm our first day in Monteverde, I couldn't catch my breath, there were too many things happening at once - and too much we simply didn't have a buffer for, financially or otherwise. I sunk quickly into feeling sorry for myself, for us. Why was all this happening at once? How could we possibly take on more debt just as everything was changing? Soon, Mr. Spicy would start his new job, soon we will have a new baby - now we have to buy a car, pay vet bills, and we still have to pay for baby stuff and a doula, and Christmas....and and.....anxiety ensues. And the torrential downpour just gets louder.
But then? Then we remembered some "emergency" money we had stashed away. Not enough to fully cover the vet bills, but enough to make a big dent. And, probably more importantly, we remembered we were not alone. I called my dad who has an extra car he doesn't use regularly and asked if we could borrow it for a little while to give us time to buy a car. Not only did he gladly and generously offer it to us, but he made it clear we could borrow it for as long as we need to save up for a good car, a car that will be safe and dependable and actually fit our needs. Which was such a huge relief that I began to cry.
It is such a typically "American" and an extremely indulgent problem to have: the need to buy a car. I mean really. I wish I was someone who was able to simply figure out how to do without one. But for now, with Mr. Spicy working so far away and needing to be able to travel to different offices throughout the day, and with my nanny work - we aren't able to creatively work out another option just yet . And yes, how ridiculous to cry over a car, over maybe having to purchase an old, high mileage vehicle because that is all we could could afford right now - "Oh noes!" I know, I know - it could be so so much worse. And I feel sufficiently ridiculous about it. But knowing we can wait, wait till Mr. Spicy is comfortably settled into his new job, wait till our little Poblano makes his appearance, wait till we have a bit more saved from bonuses and tax returns to make this large purchase more reasonable and less rushed - well, it was like the rain just suddenly stopped pouring. And the sun came out. And I could take a full breath again.
And now? I look back over the past week and feel a bit silly and embarrassed. Somehow, I let this strange and admittedly stressful sequence of circumstances send me into a dark and fearful place. I am not surprised I ended up there, not surprised I possibly became WAY more stressed out than was necessary, not surprised that I allowed these events to invade my psyche and convince me once again that I could not rest, I am not safe, the world is dangerous and unpredictable, and we are all alone in it. I am not surprised. I am dismayed. I don't deny that we had a stressful cocktail of events all at once - I don't blame us for letting those effect us. But now that it has stopped raining, or at least for the most part - Now that our new kitty (her name is Tallulah by the way) is home safe and sound and just as sweet and loving as ever - Now that my dad and stepmom have reached out to us in this generous and loving way........
Well, now I can see that it wasn't the rainstorm meant to drown us, or ruin us - it was simply a short and powerful storm that has cleared up relatively quickly. We weren't drowned, we didn't lose much more than money and an old truck that was on its way out anyhow - we are ok. Sure, as Mr. Spicy makes this next big transition, it will be hard - we will both grieve the people he is leaving, the people he has known for 6 years, we will both feel anxious about the new expectations and new environment for him. He will be under some stress as he navigates his way into this new world. But we are ok. He is ok. Our kitty is ok. We are all ok.
I know part of my heightened reaction is due to pregnancy. And even if it isn't - that's my excuse and I am sticking to it! But I also know that some of it is just me, just us - and how we respond when things go off track for us. We have friends who face enormously stressful situations with so much more grace and so much more ability to simply shrug and move forward, doing what needs to be done. We get there eventually - but not without much gnashing of teeth, inner-soul-searching, and moaning and rolling on the floor. Ok, maybe not rolling on the floor...but you get my drift.
I just wish sometimes we could remember the perspective of that second day in Monteverde, the knowing that the rain would not last forever, was not going to harm us - that we would be ok. I wish we could find ourselves in a cafe, sipping coffee, waiting out the rain, and not losing sight of the beauty and power all around us in the midst of it. I wish we more regularly were the ones helping others out of the rain rather than needing that help so much for ourselves.
I am grateful that the rain was as short as it was. I am grateful for the lessons we have learned even in that short time. I am grateful for the perspective I have this morning, and that it didn't take me longer to get here. I am grateful we are fortunate enough that these were our worries.
Maybe next time I will not be so frightened when it begins to rain. Maybe next time I will remember.....
October 04, 2008
Babymoon
When we first became pregnant we dreamed of a vacation on a beach somewhere as our last getaway before the third trimester hit and before we became new parents. We were going to spend long days lounging on the beach, drinking cold fruity drinks, frolicking in the surf and reading good books. Ha!
That was obviously before we realized all the costs involved with baby-having. Not that we're broke, but my working temp jobs here and there, our house projects, prepping for parenthood, etc...well they have left us a bit more realistic.
So, we are headed to a hotel downtown for the weekend. A hotel with a heated pool, a large bathtub in our room, room service, movies, and a really comfy bed. I. cannot. wait. To me, these amenities just about make up for the lack of an ocean view.
I am bringing books, supplies for facials (don't tell anyone I told you this, but Mr. Spicy likes the facials as much as I do!), sexy pj's, a swimsuit, a dress (for if we manage to actually leave the room), and not a whole lot else.
There are a lot of moments I hope will unfold this weekend for us, I hope it is romantic and reinvigorating and restful. But also?
I hope I get to eat a big giant ice cream sundae, that I didn't have to make, while sitting in a hot bathtub. And then? I want to read trashy gossip mags in a bed I won't have to make either.
I am aiming high here people!
So....are any of you pregnant ladies planning a "babymoon" of your own? (and don't you think the title of "babymoon" is a bit silly when you actually say it out loud?) What are you planning?
Or any moms out there have good babymoon stories to share?
That was obviously before we realized all the costs involved with baby-having. Not that we're broke, but my working temp jobs here and there, our house projects, prepping for parenthood, etc...well they have left us a bit more realistic.
So, we are headed to a hotel downtown for the weekend. A hotel with a heated pool, a large bathtub in our room, room service, movies, and a really comfy bed. I. cannot. wait. To me, these amenities just about make up for the lack of an ocean view.
I am bringing books, supplies for facials (don't tell anyone I told you this, but Mr. Spicy likes the facials as much as I do!), sexy pj's, a swimsuit, a dress (for if we manage to actually leave the room), and not a whole lot else.
There are a lot of moments I hope will unfold this weekend for us, I hope it is romantic and reinvigorating and restful. But also?
I hope I get to eat a big giant ice cream sundae, that I didn't have to make, while sitting in a hot bathtub. And then? I want to read trashy gossip mags in a bed I won't have to make either.
I am aiming high here people!
So....are any of you pregnant ladies planning a "babymoon" of your own? (and don't you think the title of "babymoon" is a bit silly when you actually say it out loud?) What are you planning?
Or any moms out there have good babymoon stories to share?
September 21, 2008
Update, Observations, and Peace....
Just wanted to pop in and give a little update of sorts.
- I was out of town this weekend with friends at their cabin and it was so good to be with people who know us, get us, and love us - even when none of us have showered for two days.
- I have had the nastiest cold all week. Every time I think I am getting better it creeps back up on me. Being sick while pregnant is a whole new kind of torture. (Especially if you are like me and a tad bit paranoid about taking meds, even when your Dr. tells you they are safe. Not that there's a whole lot you can take anyway.)
- I am also experiencing insomnia off and on. I am not used to this at all. I am usually a world champion sleeper. Having to be really deliberate and conscious about my sleeping and my before-bed-routine is a challenge for me. I miss sleeping for more than 4 hours at a time.
- Acid reflux. Holy hell. I have spent at least two nights sleeping upright. I am finding myself capable of things I never knew possible.
- I finished up my first temporary nanny gig on Friday. It was such a perfect job for me and I feel so lucky that I had this opportunity. The last five weeks with these girls have been such a gift. The family I worked for are close friends of ours so it was an added bonus to have this time to develop a closer relationship with their two incredible little girls. I loved it. The one caveat would be that the nasty killer cold came from the girls - but that can't be helped. :)
- I should start the second temporary nanny-gig in a couple weeks when the other family's nanny leaves to have her little boy. I don't really know this family, so it will be a really different experience and truthfully I am a little worried about it since I am getting increasingly exhausted and worn down as the weeks progress and I don't really know these two girls at all. But I am trying to remain hopeful that this too will be a great experience and a great opportunity to make some income while hanging out with some cool kiddos.
- I got my first "You are huge!" comment this week as well. An eighty-two year old woman (with some loss of impulse control) asked when I was due. When I told her, she remarked that I looked as if I was about to give birth any day now and asked if I was sure it wasn't twins. I politely answered her and made a quick exit. The thing is, I am definitely a bit bigger than I expected to be at this point, but I haven't gained a ton of weight, in fact I am pretty textbook right now. I just am carrying everything all out front. Regardless, I am loving my pregnant body right now. Although it still shocks me on a regular basis to look in the mirror and see this big basketball protruding from my abdomen, I feel sexy and beautiful in a way I maybe never have before. I feel womanly. And I like it. (And so does Mr. Spicy....)
- Poblano is moving a lot more and Mr. Spicy was finally able to feel a kick from the outside this week which is it's own special brand of amazingness. But now I freak if he (Poblano) moves a little less from one day or one hour to the next. The doppler still gets a little work out from me once or twice a week.
- We had our re-check ultrasound last week and there is lots of fluid around our little guy, which was a relief. Everything looked great and it was incredible to see how much he has developed in just 3 weeks. He looks like a baby! And we could even tell he has his daddy's lips!
- At our re-check appt my doctor suggested that I might be having anxiety attacks. I have been having sporadic periods of heart-racing and breathlessness but was attributing them to hormones. Turns out, they might be actual anxiety. So I was instructed to get a good measure of my resting heart rate and then record what my heart rate is when these actually occur. The thing is, I don't always feel actively anxious on a conscious level when these happen. Which is probably why I was prefering to chalk them up to hormones. But the more I think about them and when and how they occur, I am more and more convinced that they are a symptom of some internal turmoil. I had one this weekend during a conversation with a friend about something I am working through in therapy. Probably not a coincidence. My heartrate jumped to 130. Lying down and taking a nap seemed to help but I should probably pay more attention to the triggers for these and maybe find some reliable relaxation techniques in the meantime? At any rate, there are a million reasons I could be dealing with anxiety at this time, and all of them are valid. I just hate anxiety because in the moment I just feel it so intensely and trying to figure it out isn't always helpful right then when I am trying to catch my breath. It kind of demands that I stop everything and deal with it, or at least the symptoms of it - right now. Which, ironically, is possibly what my body is trying to get me to do - stop everything and deal with it. But I could go on forever about this.....
- I am almost 24 weeks pregnant which seems like a fluke, a joke, and a miracle all at the same time. So far pregnancy has been everything I hoped for and feared, and so much more. It is the hardest thing I have ever done and also the most incredible. I regularly am flummoxed by the duality of emotions I feel: pure joy and gratitude for being so incredibly fortunate to be here, excitement and anticipation of what is to come, exhaustion and anxiety and general yuckiness, vulnerability and fear, and a big large helping of cluelessness and humility. I mean, how is this really happening to me? I still can't get my brain around it at all. And in general it feels like it is flying by, like all these strange things are happening to my body and to my heart and to my life - but they are happening so fast I can't even seem to catch up. I feel this great longing to stop the clock and have a week or two to just breathe, contemplate, and savor this experience. But instead I feel as though the days are simply speeding by me before I even have a chance to be in them fully. I wish I was more grounded in all of this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, here I am, more than halfway through pregnancy, a huge, anxiety-ridden, emotional, congested, insomniac. I feel crazy and happy and overwhelmed and terrified all at the same time. Sometimes, a lot of times, I wish it was easier for me. I wish I was someone who just sailed through with barely a blip, sure of myself, sure of this pregnancy, and sure of what was to come. But that has never been me. So, it has been work - physical, emotional, spiritual work - but I know, I know, how fortunate I am that this work is mine to do. And in the midst of this work there are moments of joy that I thought at times I might never get to experience. Joy that leads me to great hopefulness. So, I am immensely grateful for that - that I get to be here, that I get to do this work, that I get to drink up this joy, and I am just hoping for a little more peace and groundedness in the midst of it. For my sake, for my husband's sake, and for the sake of our son.
Peace. Peace and groundedness.
- I was out of town this weekend with friends at their cabin and it was so good to be with people who know us, get us, and love us - even when none of us have showered for two days.
- I have had the nastiest cold all week. Every time I think I am getting better it creeps back up on me. Being sick while pregnant is a whole new kind of torture. (Especially if you are like me and a tad bit paranoid about taking meds, even when your Dr. tells you they are safe. Not that there's a whole lot you can take anyway.)
- I am also experiencing insomnia off and on. I am not used to this at all. I am usually a world champion sleeper. Having to be really deliberate and conscious about my sleeping and my before-bed-routine is a challenge for me. I miss sleeping for more than 4 hours at a time.
- Acid reflux. Holy hell. I have spent at least two nights sleeping upright. I am finding myself capable of things I never knew possible.
- I finished up my first temporary nanny gig on Friday. It was such a perfect job for me and I feel so lucky that I had this opportunity. The last five weeks with these girls have been such a gift. The family I worked for are close friends of ours so it was an added bonus to have this time to develop a closer relationship with their two incredible little girls. I loved it. The one caveat would be that the nasty killer cold came from the girls - but that can't be helped. :)
- I should start the second temporary nanny-gig in a couple weeks when the other family's nanny leaves to have her little boy. I don't really know this family, so it will be a really different experience and truthfully I am a little worried about it since I am getting increasingly exhausted and worn down as the weeks progress and I don't really know these two girls at all. But I am trying to remain hopeful that this too will be a great experience and a great opportunity to make some income while hanging out with some cool kiddos.
- I got my first "You are huge!" comment this week as well. An eighty-two year old woman (with some loss of impulse control) asked when I was due. When I told her, she remarked that I looked as if I was about to give birth any day now and asked if I was sure it wasn't twins. I politely answered her and made a quick exit. The thing is, I am definitely a bit bigger than I expected to be at this point, but I haven't gained a ton of weight, in fact I am pretty textbook right now. I just am carrying everything all out front. Regardless, I am loving my pregnant body right now. Although it still shocks me on a regular basis to look in the mirror and see this big basketball protruding from my abdomen, I feel sexy and beautiful in a way I maybe never have before. I feel womanly. And I like it. (And so does Mr. Spicy....)
- Poblano is moving a lot more and Mr. Spicy was finally able to feel a kick from the outside this week which is it's own special brand of amazingness. But now I freak if he (Poblano) moves a little less from one day or one hour to the next. The doppler still gets a little work out from me once or twice a week.
- We had our re-check ultrasound last week and there is lots of fluid around our little guy, which was a relief. Everything looked great and it was incredible to see how much he has developed in just 3 weeks. He looks like a baby! And we could even tell he has his daddy's lips!
- At our re-check appt my doctor suggested that I might be having anxiety attacks. I have been having sporadic periods of heart-racing and breathlessness but was attributing them to hormones. Turns out, they might be actual anxiety. So I was instructed to get a good measure of my resting heart rate and then record what my heart rate is when these actually occur. The thing is, I don't always feel actively anxious on a conscious level when these happen. Which is probably why I was prefering to chalk them up to hormones. But the more I think about them and when and how they occur, I am more and more convinced that they are a symptom of some internal turmoil. I had one this weekend during a conversation with a friend about something I am working through in therapy. Probably not a coincidence. My heartrate jumped to 130. Lying down and taking a nap seemed to help but I should probably pay more attention to the triggers for these and maybe find some reliable relaxation techniques in the meantime? At any rate, there are a million reasons I could be dealing with anxiety at this time, and all of them are valid. I just hate anxiety because in the moment I just feel it so intensely and trying to figure it out isn't always helpful right then when I am trying to catch my breath. It kind of demands that I stop everything and deal with it, or at least the symptoms of it - right now. Which, ironically, is possibly what my body is trying to get me to do - stop everything and deal with it. But I could go on forever about this.....
- I am almost 24 weeks pregnant which seems like a fluke, a joke, and a miracle all at the same time. So far pregnancy has been everything I hoped for and feared, and so much more. It is the hardest thing I have ever done and also the most incredible. I regularly am flummoxed by the duality of emotions I feel: pure joy and gratitude for being so incredibly fortunate to be here, excitement and anticipation of what is to come, exhaustion and anxiety and general yuckiness, vulnerability and fear, and a big large helping of cluelessness and humility. I mean, how is this really happening to me? I still can't get my brain around it at all. And in general it feels like it is flying by, like all these strange things are happening to my body and to my heart and to my life - but they are happening so fast I can't even seem to catch up. I feel this great longing to stop the clock and have a week or two to just breathe, contemplate, and savor this experience. But instead I feel as though the days are simply speeding by me before I even have a chance to be in them fully. I wish I was more grounded in all of this.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, here I am, more than halfway through pregnancy, a huge, anxiety-ridden, emotional, congested, insomniac. I feel crazy and happy and overwhelmed and terrified all at the same time. Sometimes, a lot of times, I wish it was easier for me. I wish I was someone who just sailed through with barely a blip, sure of myself, sure of this pregnancy, and sure of what was to come. But that has never been me. So, it has been work - physical, emotional, spiritual work - but I know, I know, how fortunate I am that this work is mine to do. And in the midst of this work there are moments of joy that I thought at times I might never get to experience. Joy that leads me to great hopefulness. So, I am immensely grateful for that - that I get to be here, that I get to do this work, that I get to drink up this joy, and I am just hoping for a little more peace and groundedness in the midst of it. For my sake, for my husband's sake, and for the sake of our son.
Peace. Peace and groundedness.
September 10, 2008
All the pretty pictures...
***Warning - loads of pregnancy pics ahead.....
I mentioned being behind in posting photos in my last post, so at long last I am getting them up here.
But first, a pictorial that somewhat explains why I posted so little in August and makes me look just a little hardcore. This is what I was up to...
I wasn't kidding about the bathroom remodel....The first picture shows where our old shower/tub used to be, the second is where our old toilet and floor were, the third shows the disaster that Mr. Spicy found when innocently trying to replace some drywall around the skylight - years upon years of water damage had reduced much of the wood to dust, and the last picture is of me donning my "protective gear" - eye goggles, and the most intense breathing apparatus Mr. Spicy could find to protect me from the dust and fumes. His language of love often leads him right to the hardware store, what can I say?
But, we finished it! Mostly! And wouldn't you know I haven't even taken any finished photos yet? Probably because I still have flashbacks whenever I walk into that room now.
On a happier note....I have a months worth of belly pics to unload on y'all, and also a very cute ultrasound picture, hold onto your hats folks, here we go:
18 weeks
I mentioned being behind in posting photos in my last post, so at long last I am getting them up here.
But first, a pictorial that somewhat explains why I posted so little in August and makes me look just a little hardcore. This is what I was up to...
I wasn't kidding about the bathroom remodel....The first picture shows where our old shower/tub used to be, the second is where our old toilet and floor were, the third shows the disaster that Mr. Spicy found when innocently trying to replace some drywall around the skylight - years upon years of water damage had reduced much of the wood to dust, and the last picture is of me donning my "protective gear" - eye goggles, and the most intense breathing apparatus Mr. Spicy could find to protect me from the dust and fumes. His language of love often leads him right to the hardware store, what can I say?But, we finished it! Mostly! And wouldn't you know I haven't even taken any finished photos yet? Probably because I still have flashbacks whenever I walk into that room now.
On a happier note....I have a months worth of belly pics to unload on y'all, and also a very cute ultrasound picture, hold onto your hats folks, here we go:
18 weeks
(this is the first time I saw a pregnancy photo of myself and was truly shocked. I just didn't *feel* like I was showing that much. My internal image and external images just were not matching up. Also, it made me feel a bit vulnerable to look so obviously pregnant - which surprised me, a lot.)
Now, here are just a few of the gorgeous pictures that MB took of us at 20 weeks...... if you would like to see the whole slideshow, email me and I will send you a link to it. If you would like her contact info - I can give you that as well. She's truly amazing and gifted. We had so much fun with this shoot and it has left us with visible images of a time we really want to savor and remember and hold onto. Plus, she just made us look really good. I can't say enough about how special this was for us, so I'll just share a couple images.....
20 weeks
And here is what our little Poblano looked like at about the same time:
20 weeks and 2 days
Isn't he gorgeous?
On a side note: We do actually have a name for him already - I am just still debating how much personal info I want to put out into the world wide web. Thus, the headless belly shots, and the code names. I have a highly "google-able" name and so I have tried to be pretty careful about things so far...but I am debating how much it really matters? Do any of you have suggestions, opinions, ideas about this issue?
And last but not least, here is how I look today at 22 weeks:
And.....that's all folks! (for now, at least) I still cannot believe I am 22 weeks pregnant. But Poblano reminds me pretty regularly now with his squirming and wiggling. What a wild wild ride!
August 24, 2008
6 years of saying "Yes"
The Truelove
There is a faith in loving fiercely
the one who is rightfully yours,
especially if you have
waited years and especially
if part of you never believed
you could deserve this
loved and beckoning hand
held out to you this way.
the one who is rightfully yours,
especially if you have
waited years and especially
if part of you never believed
you could deserve this
loved and beckoning hand
held out to you this way.
I am thinking of faith now
and the testaments of loneliness
and what we feel we are
worthy of in this world.
Years ago in the Hebrides
I remember an old man
who walked every morning
on the grey stones
to the shore of the baying seals,
who would press his hat
to his chest in the blustering
salt wind and say his prayer
to the turbulent Jesus
hidden in the water,
and I think of the story
of the storm and everyone
waking and seeing
the distant
yet familiar figure
far across the water
calling to them,
of the storm and everyone
waking and seeing
the distant
yet familiar figure
far across the water
calling to them,
and how we are all
preparing for that
abrupt waking,
and that calling,
and that moment
we have to say yes,
except it will
not come so grandly,
so Biblically,
but more subtly
and intimately in the face
of the one you know
you have to love,
so that when we finally step out of the boat
toward them, we find
everything holds
us, and confirms
our courage, and if you wanted
to drown you could,
but you don’t
because finally
after all the struggle
and all the years,
you don’t want to any more,
you’ve simply had enough
of drowning
and you want to live and you
want to love and you will
walk across any territory
and any darkness,
however fluid and however
dangerous, to take the
one hand you know
belongs in yours.
after all the struggle
and all the years,
you don’t want to any more,
you’ve simply had enough
of drowning
and you want to live and you
want to love and you will
walk across any territory
and any darkness,
however fluid and however
dangerous, to take the
one hand you know
belongs in yours.
~ David Whyte ~
(House of Belonging)
Six years ago today I said yes to the one I knew I had to love.
This has meant that we both have been required to walk across expansive territories of fierce independence and self-protection, to face darkness in the most dangerous depths of our souls, and to surrender to joy and peace in the most surprising places - all in the effort to continually "take the one hand you know belongs in yours".
By far this is the bravest, wildest, most sacred, and most rewarding journey I have ever chosen.
I feel so proud of us, so grateful that we continue to choose this path every day.
There is no one. no one. I would rather dance with.
Happy Anniversary Mr. Spicy!
Six years ago today I said yes to the one I knew I had to love.
This has meant that we both have been required to walk across expansive territories of fierce independence and self-protection, to face darkness in the most dangerous depths of our souls, and to surrender to joy and peace in the most surprising places - all in the effort to continually "take the one hand you know belongs in yours".
By far this is the bravest, wildest, most sacred, and most rewarding journey I have ever chosen.
I feel so proud of us, so grateful that we continue to choose this path every day.
There is no one. no one. I would rather dance with.
Happy Anniversary Mr. Spicy!
August 21, 2008
Older and.....more exhausted?
Today is my 34th birthday. I am 19 weeks pregnant. That's pretty much enough for me.
But if I could ask for just one gift it would be......SLEEP! 8, preferably 12, hours of blissful, uninterrupted sleep!
I am shooting for the stars here people.
Part of why I have been so remiss on my blogging duties is that a "simple" bathroom remodel (ha! if there is such a thing!) turned into our own private torture chamber a few weeks ago and has required all of my time, energy, and late night hours to try to complete it by our "deadline". Like all home remodeling projects, just about everything that could go wrong did go wrong. We had originally planned on the help of an old neighbor of ours who is an ex-contractor. He has helped us with numerous projects before and with his help we would have long ago knocked this out. Unfortunately, post-demolition, he flaked on us - just never returned our calls (we have since heard through the proverbial grapevine that he is dealing with some serious medical issues, which is really sad... what can you do?). So - it was all on us. Yay.
On the upside, I now know how to tile a bathroom floor and a shower/tub surround. I got so proficient at it in fact, that my forearms have been swollen for days! I did discover that I excel at actually measuring the tiles for cutting and doing all the crazy meticulous work that involves. Oh, and I get to brag about how I am so hardcore that I tiled a bathroom at nearly 20 weeks pregnant. So, there is that.
But, I really pushed myself a little too hard, and we both have stayed up WAY WAY too late for the last 5 or 6 nights in an effort to crank it out in time. Mr. Spicy actually never went to bed last night. As it is, our house guest/renter for the DNC will have to use our downstairs (roommate's) bathroom to shower until Sunday. Four adults sharing a tiny bathroom? We can manage.
But. We are in the home stretch. We have help coming today to finish with the grouting of the perfectly placed tile, and carpet cleaners as well. We still have a multiple page list to finish before tomorrow evening when he arrives....but I can clearly see the flicker of light at the end of the tunnel.
And. It has been really nice (minus the lack of sleep and swollen arms and feet) to work together so closely with Mr. Spicy on such a demanding project. It gave me all new confidence in our ability to work together as a team, to support each other even when we are exhausted and worn down, and to endure frustration and sleep deprivation with our grace and relationship intact. Sounds like a good boot camp for parenthood to me.
Also. I started my new job this week. I am filling in for a friend's nanny who is on maternity leave and even in the midst of this hellish week, I am really enjoying it. I will write more about that later but I can't wait till next week when I will have more energy to give to the girls and more brain cells functioning. The girls are really great. Seriously, two of the easiest kids to care for, ever. Like I said, more on that later.
Ok. This was supposed to be a "short" post bemoaning my lack of sleep - but see how much I have missed writing? I just can't stop.
19 week belly pics (I am seriously popping out now!) and pics of the horrific bathroom, a.k.a. hell on earth, to come soon!
Happy birthday to me!
But if I could ask for just one gift it would be......SLEEP! 8, preferably 12, hours of blissful, uninterrupted sleep!
I am shooting for the stars here people.
Part of why I have been so remiss on my blogging duties is that a "simple" bathroom remodel (ha! if there is such a thing!) turned into our own private torture chamber a few weeks ago and has required all of my time, energy, and late night hours to try to complete it by our "deadline". Like all home remodeling projects, just about everything that could go wrong did go wrong. We had originally planned on the help of an old neighbor of ours who is an ex-contractor. He has helped us with numerous projects before and with his help we would have long ago knocked this out. Unfortunately, post-demolition, he flaked on us - just never returned our calls (we have since heard through the proverbial grapevine that he is dealing with some serious medical issues, which is really sad... what can you do?). So - it was all on us. Yay.
On the upside, I now know how to tile a bathroom floor and a shower/tub surround. I got so proficient at it in fact, that my forearms have been swollen for days! I did discover that I excel at actually measuring the tiles for cutting and doing all the crazy meticulous work that involves. Oh, and I get to brag about how I am so hardcore that I tiled a bathroom at nearly 20 weeks pregnant. So, there is that.
But, I really pushed myself a little too hard, and we both have stayed up WAY WAY too late for the last 5 or 6 nights in an effort to crank it out in time. Mr. Spicy actually never went to bed last night. As it is, our house guest/renter for the DNC will have to use our downstairs (roommate's) bathroom to shower until Sunday. Four adults sharing a tiny bathroom? We can manage.
But. We are in the home stretch. We have help coming today to finish with the grouting of the perfectly placed tile, and carpet cleaners as well. We still have a multiple page list to finish before tomorrow evening when he arrives....but I can clearly see the flicker of light at the end of the tunnel.
And. It has been really nice (minus the lack of sleep and swollen arms and feet) to work together so closely with Mr. Spicy on such a demanding project. It gave me all new confidence in our ability to work together as a team, to support each other even when we are exhausted and worn down, and to endure frustration and sleep deprivation with our grace and relationship intact. Sounds like a good boot camp for parenthood to me.
Also. I started my new job this week. I am filling in for a friend's nanny who is on maternity leave and even in the midst of this hellish week, I am really enjoying it. I will write more about that later but I can't wait till next week when I will have more energy to give to the girls and more brain cells functioning. The girls are really great. Seriously, two of the easiest kids to care for, ever. Like I said, more on that later.
Ok. This was supposed to be a "short" post bemoaning my lack of sleep - but see how much I have missed writing? I just can't stop.
19 week belly pics (I am seriously popping out now!) and pics of the horrific bathroom, a.k.a. hell on earth, to come soon!
Happy birthday to me!
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