I am back at my parents visiting just like I was this time last year.
But this year I have Maddy with me in her separate flesh. In 8 hours she will be exactly 20 weeks old.
We have a rhythm. We know each other. I can calm her, I can make her laugh. She nestles her head against my neck in a way she does with no one else. She is my baby and I am her mama. It is beautiful.
But in all honesty I still can't believe I am a mother. Sometimes I worry when she isn't with me that I will forget her. I worry about accidentally leaving the house without her or forgetting to pick her up from day care when she starts, or coming home in time to relieve the nanny. I have never even come close to doing this but it still worries me. I have no idea where that fear comes from.
I also worry that I won't ever be special to her. She has grown into a really gregarious baby that smiles at everyone and loves to be held by anyone. Even if she is crying she'll pause for a few moments in order to give someone a big smile, as if she can't bring herself to be rude. Maybe this is just her age. Maybe it is her personality. But I don't seem to be a particularly special person to her yet, just another really nice person who is around her more than everyone else. I know this is absurd, but this fear feels real to me right now.
I am genuinely excited by her development. What an amazing emotion overwhelmed me when I felt her little sharp tooth breaking through her gum a week ago. And the pride I feel when she leans forward in her car seat in anticipation of being picked up. But as these things happen I see her newborn babyness as history, and I wish I could have it back for just another few weeks more. I wasn't ready for that stage to be over. I hadn't had enough. Now she is starting to get hair. She is starting to grab fiercely and with strength for things. She is starting to want things, like this monkey balloon here at my parents house. When you take it away she cries. My little newborn cries for want of a monkey balloon. She isn't a newborn anymore. And while this is wonderful and so fun to watch, it is heartbreaking. I am sad that she is no longer a newborn baby.
20 weeks. 60 weeks in total this wonderful little thing has been in my life. While it feels comfortable and natural on so many levels it still doesn't really feel like my life. There is still this sense that I will wake up and it will be all back the way it was.
But then in the middle of the night I wake up when I hear her scratch away at the side of her portable crib beside my bed here in the guest room at my parents house. I smile. I am her mother. I am the one who gets up with her no matter how tired I am. And I always give her a big smile. And she always gives me one too.
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Redux
Back in early May I took Mads over to meet my friend L. As you may remember, it did not go well. In fact, it was so bad that I should sell it as a skit to Saturday Night Live. Lesbian couple with no kids, Mads getting hungry and needing to be nursed, breastfeeding not going well, Mads acting like wild coyote and flailing around, my shirt coming off, milk everywhere, the loss of a breast pad... OMG.
L and her partner just got back from a vacation in a romantic country in Europe. Despite the shenanigans of our last visit Mads and I were invited over to see photos. The date was set for today, June 16th at 2pm.
I seriously strategized this one as I wanted to see if we could make a better impression this time around. The thoroughly thought-out plan began at 8:00am when Mads woke up and wanted to play.
We played, I kept her up until 10am. I fed her, she napped for an hour while I showered. We played until12:15pm when I fed her again and she, luckily, fell asleep again. She started stirring at 1:30pm and I sort-of woke her up, nursed her (even though she wasn't really hungry and milk started leaking out her nose while she was still suckling... I did not even know that was possible), changed the diaper and we were off.
We arrived at 2:07pm for our 2pm date with flowers from our backyard in hand, we even had a ribbon tied around the vase. Nothing quite like trying to look like we had our act together!
The weather was beautiful so we sat out back on their deck and drank lemonade.
Mads was an angel, an angel I tell you. She smiled big smiles when spoken too, sat on my lap and looked around very cutely most of the time. She got a smidge antsy but was satisfied when I lifted her up so she could look over my shoulder. She then cooed at the flowers behind me in a super cute but not too loud voice for a little while. We then went inside to look at pictures from L's trip.
Mads was not too happy with the opera music to which the slideshow was set but she wasn't too loud about her opinion. In fact, the dog that luckily appears not to have choked to death on the MIA breast pad was more of a nuisance than Mads while watching the slideshow -- he rested his head on the keyboard and caused a minor glitch in the presentation. As the slideshow came to an end M started to hit that point where I knew she might break into a more vociferous need for a change of scenery. That was exactly when L commented on what an angel M is, at which point I said, "and it's probably time for us to go before she gets out of her angelic mode."
Nice segue, yes?
We were back in our car at exactly 3:07pm. That was when M decided that it was time to be a bit more upfront about her displeasure. But, by then she was getting back into her car seat and was far from L and her partner's ears, and only moments away from being lulled to sleep by the moving car.
We did it!!!
Please note that I do realize that this little outburst of mothering confidence will mean that our next outing will be another SNL skit, possibly involving Sarah Palin and maybe even Eddie Murphy or Steve Martin.
L and her partner just got back from a vacation in a romantic country in Europe. Despite the shenanigans of our last visit Mads and I were invited over to see photos. The date was set for today, June 16th at 2pm.
I seriously strategized this one as I wanted to see if we could make a better impression this time around. The thoroughly thought-out plan began at 8:00am when Mads woke up and wanted to play.
We played, I kept her up until 10am. I fed her, she napped for an hour while I showered. We played until12:15pm when I fed her again and she, luckily, fell asleep again. She started stirring at 1:30pm and I sort-of woke her up, nursed her (even though she wasn't really hungry and milk started leaking out her nose while she was still suckling... I did not even know that was possible), changed the diaper and we were off.
We arrived at 2:07pm for our 2pm date with flowers from our backyard in hand, we even had a ribbon tied around the vase. Nothing quite like trying to look like we had our act together!
The weather was beautiful so we sat out back on their deck and drank lemonade.
Mads was an angel, an angel I tell you. She smiled big smiles when spoken too, sat on my lap and looked around very cutely most of the time. She got a smidge antsy but was satisfied when I lifted her up so she could look over my shoulder. She then cooed at the flowers behind me in a super cute but not too loud voice for a little while. We then went inside to look at pictures from L's trip.
Mads was not too happy with the opera music to which the slideshow was set but she wasn't too loud about her opinion. In fact, the dog that luckily appears not to have choked to death on the MIA breast pad was more of a nuisance than Mads while watching the slideshow -- he rested his head on the keyboard and caused a minor glitch in the presentation. As the slideshow came to an end M started to hit that point where I knew she might break into a more vociferous need for a change of scenery. That was exactly when L commented on what an angel M is, at which point I said, "and it's probably time for us to go before she gets out of her angelic mode."
Nice segue, yes?
We were back in our car at exactly 3:07pm. That was when M decided that it was time to be a bit more upfront about her displeasure. But, by then she was getting back into her car seat and was far from L and her partner's ears, and only moments away from being lulled to sleep by the moving car.
We did it!!!
Please note that I do realize that this little outburst of mothering confidence will mean that our next outing will be another SNL skit, possibly involving Sarah Palin and maybe even Eddie Murphy or Steve Martin.
Monday, June 13, 2011
This time last year
This time last year was the culmination of the most difficult phase of my life so far. A year ago I posted about how surreal infertility is. I was in the thick of an IVF treatment and at my wit's end after all the TTC, the failed IVF cycle earlier that spring, the cyst, and the miscarriage.
Last year, on June 10th we got bad news about our impending IVF cycle (attempt #2). I only had one follicle after injecting a ridiculous amount of extremely expensive drugs into my belly. The monitoring appointment where we learned this was, of course, the day we took off from work to belatedly celebrate our 6-year anniversary. I was devastated. I knew then that I had to give up or I'd lose my mind. I hated my body, I hated the situation, I hated that nothing we did had any effect on fixing or altering the situation. I cried really hard for about an hour after we left the doctor's office. And then I stopped crying. I hit that cold emotional state when you realize that you've cried all you can about that issue. It was time to move on.
But to add to the surreal-ness of the situation, we saw our regular and much-loved RE a day or two later. There was one big follicle and two smaller ones by that time and she recommended that we go ahead with IVF anyway. She said that even though there were only a few follicles they might be really good ones and we should go forward in order to see how my body would respond.
And so we did. We decided that since we were so far into the process we should at least follow this one all the way through even though it looked grim.
I want to quote myself here. This is from my post on June 14, 2010, "what a crazy crazy world... if I actually get a baby out of this it would make some sense. Nothing I do ever happens without some "wonky" involved. I sure hope we are passed the worst part of it though."
And the craziness of it all? We were. We were past the worst part of it. My wonderful Madsy was one of those two smaller follicles, one of only two that fertilized, one of only two that were transferred back to me two days later, the one who implanted, the one who survived all of my fear and a CVS test. She was the one who made it all the way to her birth and now to being 3 months old.
That surreal mind frame continues though. Despite the fact that I have gotten up every night for the last 91 nights to nurse Mads, and had some nights that never contained anything that even remotely resembled "going to bed" for me, I still look at her in amazement that she's mine. She's this little stranger who has come into my life. A little stranger that has shown me that mothering her is even better than I had dreamed it would be or dared to let myself fantasize.
It is cliche to say this, but I stand in awe of the last year and how much things have changed. It really is surreal.
Thank you all for the love and support. Thank you for understanding my shout-out for help the other day. I really appreciate all the suggestions and empathy. I have now instigated Feel-Good-Fridays. Last week I had a massage on Friday afternoon and this coming Friday I am getting a mani-pedi (and I think I'll paint my finger nails a color even though Dh hates it). I have done a few bouts of modest exercise, made myself some good food to eat, and am motivated to take care of me as well as taking care of M. I want her to be super good to herself. What better way than to show her by example? I owe it to this wonderful little creature who has brought me so much peace and happiness. I owe it to that sweet little follicle who beat the odds.
Last year, on June 10th we got bad news about our impending IVF cycle (attempt #2). I only had one follicle after injecting a ridiculous amount of extremely expensive drugs into my belly. The monitoring appointment where we learned this was, of course, the day we took off from work to belatedly celebrate our 6-year anniversary. I was devastated. I knew then that I had to give up or I'd lose my mind. I hated my body, I hated the situation, I hated that nothing we did had any effect on fixing or altering the situation. I cried really hard for about an hour after we left the doctor's office. And then I stopped crying. I hit that cold emotional state when you realize that you've cried all you can about that issue. It was time to move on.
But to add to the surreal-ness of the situation, we saw our regular and much-loved RE a day or two later. There was one big follicle and two smaller ones by that time and she recommended that we go ahead with IVF anyway. She said that even though there were only a few follicles they might be really good ones and we should go forward in order to see how my body would respond.
And so we did. We decided that since we were so far into the process we should at least follow this one all the way through even though it looked grim.
I want to quote myself here. This is from my post on June 14, 2010, "what a crazy crazy world... if I actually get a baby out of this it would make some sense. Nothing I do ever happens without some "wonky" involved. I sure hope we are passed the worst part of it though."
And the craziness of it all? We were. We were past the worst part of it. My wonderful Madsy was one of those two smaller follicles, one of only two that fertilized, one of only two that were transferred back to me two days later, the one who implanted, the one who survived all of my fear and a CVS test. She was the one who made it all the way to her birth and now to being 3 months old.
That surreal mind frame continues though. Despite the fact that I have gotten up every night for the last 91 nights to nurse Mads, and had some nights that never contained anything that even remotely resembled "going to bed" for me, I still look at her in amazement that she's mine. She's this little stranger who has come into my life. A little stranger that has shown me that mothering her is even better than I had dreamed it would be or dared to let myself fantasize.
It is cliche to say this, but I stand in awe of the last year and how much things have changed. It really is surreal.
Thank you all for the love and support. Thank you for understanding my shout-out for help the other day. I really appreciate all the suggestions and empathy. I have now instigated Feel-Good-Fridays. Last week I had a massage on Friday afternoon and this coming Friday I am getting a mani-pedi (and I think I'll paint my finger nails a color even though Dh hates it). I have done a few bouts of modest exercise, made myself some good food to eat, and am motivated to take care of me as well as taking care of M. I want her to be super good to herself. What better way than to show her by example? I owe it to this wonderful little creature who has brought me so much peace and happiness. I owe it to that sweet little follicle who beat the odds.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
last night I cried
Thank you all for the commiseration on my last post. It means so much to know this is all normal and I am not alone. Dh tried a little harder this morning. Granted he then left for work in the afternoon and won't come home until after we are all in bed, but baby steps are better than nothing.
Yesterday we went to check out the early child development center at our university to see if we want to enroll M. I had submitted an application a couple of weeks ago assuming we'd never get in because they take so few children and so many people want in. Unbelievably we got offered a spot.
It was amazing. M won't ever want to come home. All the teachers are trained in child development, all the furniture and toys are kid-size and cool, it is a really environmentally friendly building, the teachers/care takers in the infant & toddler rooms even hang out on their knees so as to be at kid level (we are all equals...) M will be able to stay in the program through preschool, so I basically have full time childcare set up for the next five years. And the cincher? It is three blocks away from my office.
But for some reason I was incredibly saddened by it all. I just know that August will roll around here very soon and I'll be confronted with taking M to this place and, oh my, leaving her there. I hope I am more ready for it when the time comes than I am right now.
I got home in the late afternoon and chit-chatted with the nanny who watched M today (as she does every wedesnday and friday). I really enjoy talking so much about the minutia of M with her as she is all into it too, unlike anyone else I know. I sat down to nurse M as the nanny straightened up M's room before leaving. She then started talking about one of the baby books she was reading to M and how M really liked this one page... I have read to M some but not those little baby books. I instantly felt terrible. I have tried to have an evening routine that includes a bath, baby massage, nursing & some bedtime reading. But I figured more grown up books would be ok for now since she doesn't know what I am saying.
To add insult to the injury of my guilt, wed and thur night M was pretty stressed out so all I did was hold her and calm her down. Wednesday night I even skipped PJ's because she was so upset when I changed her diaper, so I skipped the clothes and just swaddled her.
The nanny then left and I nursed and held M for a couple of hours. And I cried. Bawled, actually. I love this little girl so much but I am afraid that isn't enough. I am afriad that I am a terrible mother. M deserves the best. She is perfect right now and I hate that I will screw her up.
Today I feel a little better. My house doesn't need to be romper room. M needs to see regular life too, how adults interact and how big furniture really is. I guess it is ok if some of M's world isn't tailor made for her. Maybe my love will be enough to fulfill my role as the navigator, and I am not suposed to be her everything.
I don't know. I really don't. I just hope my best is good enough.
Yesterday we went to check out the early child development center at our university to see if we want to enroll M. I had submitted an application a couple of weeks ago assuming we'd never get in because they take so few children and so many people want in. Unbelievably we got offered a spot.
It was amazing. M won't ever want to come home. All the teachers are trained in child development, all the furniture and toys are kid-size and cool, it is a really environmentally friendly building, the teachers/care takers in the infant & toddler rooms even hang out on their knees so as to be at kid level (we are all equals...) M will be able to stay in the program through preschool, so I basically have full time childcare set up for the next five years. And the cincher? It is three blocks away from my office.
But for some reason I was incredibly saddened by it all. I just know that August will roll around here very soon and I'll be confronted with taking M to this place and, oh my, leaving her there. I hope I am more ready for it when the time comes than I am right now.
I got home in the late afternoon and chit-chatted with the nanny who watched M today (as she does every wedesnday and friday). I really enjoy talking so much about the minutia of M with her as she is all into it too, unlike anyone else I know. I sat down to nurse M as the nanny straightened up M's room before leaving. She then started talking about one of the baby books she was reading to M and how M really liked this one page... I have read to M some but not those little baby books. I instantly felt terrible. I have tried to have an evening routine that includes a bath, baby massage, nursing & some bedtime reading. But I figured more grown up books would be ok for now since she doesn't know what I am saying.
To add insult to the injury of my guilt, wed and thur night M was pretty stressed out so all I did was hold her and calm her down. Wednesday night I even skipped PJ's because she was so upset when I changed her diaper, so I skipped the clothes and just swaddled her.
The nanny then left and I nursed and held M for a couple of hours. And I cried. Bawled, actually. I love this little girl so much but I am afraid that isn't enough. I am afriad that I am a terrible mother. M deserves the best. She is perfect right now and I hate that I will screw her up.
Today I feel a little better. My house doesn't need to be romper room. M needs to see regular life too, how adults interact and how big furniture really is. I guess it is ok if some of M's world isn't tailor made for her. Maybe my love will be enough to fulfill my role as the navigator, and I am not suposed to be her everything.
I don't know. I really don't. I just hope my best is good enough.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Blog crisis
I know that I am not a very good blogger. I write scientific papers fairly well but I lack a flair for the other kind of writing. Despite my lack of innate ability I started this blog as an outlet for sharing emotions that I had to keep bottled up in real life.
In so doing I discovered an amazing world of women who were experiencing similar emotions on similar journeys AND who expressed their feelings and experiences with amazing eloquence and style.
I have spent a lot of my life not having a solid sense of who I am. I have a particular clothing and hair style that I like and that seem to be highly socially acceptable, but my personality is much more bland and insecure. I can fake or ignore the insecurity a lot of the time, but I am finding it creeping up when I think about my blogging. I want to keep writing, keep documenting my journey, but I feel like I need a style, a theme to make it work. The fertility treatments and then pregnancy provided a simple framework to follow. But what about now?
So many women shift their blogging beautifully after a baby arrives. But I can't see a cohesive theme, trend or story to my all-over-the-place life right now. Figuring out how to modify my blog gets into an artistic world I left back in college (I went to college intending to be a theater major but once I got there I realized that I wasn't very good compared to most of the others, so I switched career paths dramatically, pun intended).
Since I feel like I need to take baby steps towards getting myself back into a new equilibrium I am going to try something small. Here goes:
The wonderful today: Sharing my baby with new and old friends at an easter party. And mostly, when a dear friend cried with happiness for me.
The sucky today: I am so freaking tired that I don't think quite right. It frightens me, seriously. And today, Dh seems to think that time spent with the baby AND me equals time he covers baby duty FOR me so I can get a break... wtf? I really seriously need more than 2 hours of uninterrupted sleep sometime soon.
The philosophical observation: Infants have no sense of proportionality.
In so doing I discovered an amazing world of women who were experiencing similar emotions on similar journeys AND who expressed their feelings and experiences with amazing eloquence and style.
I have spent a lot of my life not having a solid sense of who I am. I have a particular clothing and hair style that I like and that seem to be highly socially acceptable, but my personality is much more bland and insecure. I can fake or ignore the insecurity a lot of the time, but I am finding it creeping up when I think about my blogging. I want to keep writing, keep documenting my journey, but I feel like I need a style, a theme to make it work. The fertility treatments and then pregnancy provided a simple framework to follow. But what about now?
So many women shift their blogging beautifully after a baby arrives. But I can't see a cohesive theme, trend or story to my all-over-the-place life right now. Figuring out how to modify my blog gets into an artistic world I left back in college (I went to college intending to be a theater major but once I got there I realized that I wasn't very good compared to most of the others, so I switched career paths dramatically, pun intended).
Since I feel like I need to take baby steps towards getting myself back into a new equilibrium I am going to try something small. Here goes:
The wonderful today: Sharing my baby with new and old friends at an easter party. And mostly, when a dear friend cried with happiness for me.
The sucky today: I am so freaking tired that I don't think quite right. It frightens me, seriously. And today, Dh seems to think that time spent with the baby AND me equals time he covers baby duty FOR me so I can get a break... wtf? I really seriously need more than 2 hours of uninterrupted sleep sometime soon.
The philosophical observation: Infants have no sense of proportionality.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
making contact
M and I are home alone for a few hours while Dh and MIL go to the bank to take care of some of the business of death. It is probably the longest I have been alone with M since she was born and it is really nice. I think we needed some mommy-baby time.
M was laying on the floor on a blanket with a toy on either side for her to check out. At one point I heard all sorts of grunting and heavy breathng. M had managed to get on her side and was reaching out her hand far enough to touch her bunny rabbit. I was so impressed and proud that I started crying! She's too young to have this kind of control and it was likely a fluke that it worked out for her, but still...
I am such a goof ball. I had no idea I would cry over things like that! Hormones are crazy things.
M was laying on the floor on a blanket with a toy on either side for her to check out. At one point I heard all sorts of grunting and heavy breathng. M had managed to get on her side and was reaching out her hand far enough to touch her bunny rabbit. I was so impressed and proud that I started crying! She's too young to have this kind of control and it was likely a fluke that it worked out for her, but still...
I am such a goof ball. I had no idea I would cry over things like that! Hormones are crazy things.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Loneliness redefined
I have had a nagging thing in the back of my mind for a while now. Yesterday I figured out what it is. Loneliness.
I downloaded some photos I took of my belly and realized that the only pictures I have of myself pregnant are ones that I took. No one else has ever said, "show off your belly for the photo!" No one calls to check on me, ask if I've been kicked lately. It's feels as if it is easy for people to go on as if I am not pregnant, that this is no big deal. Fairly irrelevant.
I have moments where it is amazing to feel like I am entering into the community of mommies, but I am realizing that the community is so ridiculously large and diverse that it is essentially meaningless to the people who are in it. There is no welcome letter or ceremony to learn the secret handshake. There is no sense of camaraderie from what I can tell. I think it is only a community if you find yourself outside of it. This should not come as a surprise to me, but it kind of does.
And while family members are happy for us (or not), I don't think anyone else thinks about little M every day. Even Dh seems to be able to go most of the day without bringing her up in conversation. The other night Dh commented that he is annoyed when people say "we are pregnant" since I am pregnant, not him.
All of this makes me feel alone and protective, like it is just me and little M, and that I have to really look out for her because no one else will. I am realizing that her impending birth really isn't a big deal to anybody else but the two of us.
Which makes sense. Of course it is like this. But this totally made me bawl last night when I came to this realization. And it makes me feel really hyper-attached and connected to little M -- we are connected to each other more deeply than we are to anyone else, and more to each other than anyone else is to either of us.
So why was I crying? I guess because I feel disappointed on some level to realize that something that means so much to me is so incredibly mundane to essentially everyone else. What a strange thing. And kind of lonely.
Here I am at 33 weeks tomorrow. Un-freaking-believable. And hard to believe my belly can get any bigger. The fuzzy thing on the floor in front of me is a bear footstool for little M's room. I should have turned him so you can see his face; he's super cute. She's going to love him.
I have moments where it is amazing to feel like I am entering into the community of mommies, but I am realizing that the community is so ridiculously large and diverse that it is essentially meaningless to the people who are in it. There is no welcome letter or ceremony to learn the secret handshake. There is no sense of camaraderie from what I can tell. I think it is only a community if you find yourself outside of it. This should not come as a surprise to me, but it kind of does.
And while family members are happy for us (or not), I don't think anyone else thinks about little M every day. Even Dh seems to be able to go most of the day without bringing her up in conversation. The other night Dh commented that he is annoyed when people say "we are pregnant" since I am pregnant, not him.
All of this makes me feel alone and protective, like it is just me and little M, and that I have to really look out for her because no one else will. I am realizing that her impending birth really isn't a big deal to anybody else but the two of us.
Which makes sense. Of course it is like this. But this totally made me bawl last night when I came to this realization. And it makes me feel really hyper-attached and connected to little M -- we are connected to each other more deeply than we are to anyone else, and more to each other than anyone else is to either of us.
So why was I crying? I guess because I feel disappointed on some level to realize that something that means so much to me is so incredibly mundane to essentially everyone else. What a strange thing. And kind of lonely.
Here I am at 33 weeks tomorrow. Un-freaking-believable. And hard to believe my belly can get any bigger. The fuzzy thing on the floor in front of me is a bear footstool for little M's room. I should have turned him so you can see his face; he's super cute. She's going to love him.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
A mind numb phase
I've been really quiet for a while for a couple of reasons:
1) I've been at my parents house and overwhelmed with so many different thoughts that my mind is kind of numb and blank, if that makes sense.
2) I feel like I'm in such limbo with this pregnancy that my mind is numb and blank, if that makes sense too...
But I've been following all of you and really really appreciate knowing what you are all doing and thinking. I know I am surrounded by friends and like-minded women. It means the world to me.
I have had a couple of moments where I almost let myself think that I'll get a baby out of this, but I catch myself and metaphorically slap my wrists for the presumptuousness. I am superstitious, even though I know better. My thoughts aren't going to change what happens with this pregnancy, but still...
So I have tried to keep my mind really numb, as that feels like a safe place to be. Neither excited and happy nor stressed and angst-ridden, just in that place of nothingness.
My mother is a control freak, and extremely judgemental of everyone (and really hard on my dad, though he seems to let it roll off easily). I find it easier when I'm home to be a very docile un-opinionated person. This contributes to mind numbness.
I got to spend some time with two of my great aunts, and shared a room with the one I hadn't seen since I was about 10 years old. She has been through hell and back, and it was amazing to get to know this remarkable woman better, just the two of us. We would lay in bed at night and she told me all kinds of wonderful stories about her life. She's 84 and lost her only daughter a couple of months ago to cancer. One of her two sons died in a flash flood when he was 18, and her husband and love of her life died about 8 years ago of heart failure. Her other son has a couple of kids, but neither is doing very well in life (and I mean, really not doing well). It's a hard place to be. But she is so kind and warm, and still talks about her husband with an amazing romance and love. She is a war bride. He fought in WWII and asked her to wait for him to return (and she said yes). He got back home one night at 9pm, arrived at her house at 10pm, and they were married at 4pm the next day. Incredibly romantic, and apparently a wonderful relationship. Her daughter never married because she said she couldn't find a man who loved her as much as her father loved her mother. Sad, but touching. And she told me about how she wanted four children but lost one at about 4 months and was too terrified to try again. I couldn't bring myself to tell her about my being pregnant, as I'm scared. But I will later. And I look forward to sharing it with her, as well as my earlier loss. If I had stayed a few more days, I probably would have spilled my guts. But given her recent pain with the loss of her daughter, it didn't feel right just yet.
Now I'm back home, and it's wonderful to sleep in my bed with dh and our kitty again. I didn't get to see him before I left, after his dad's heart attack. So it's been a long hard three weeks without each other. And he has to travel for work again soon -- leaves on thursday for about 3 weeks.
He'll be here for our dr's apt on Monday and plans to go with me. But his travel schedule means that he won't be here for any of the testing that we do. Instead of freaking out, I'm keeping my mind numb about it. It is what it is, and I will somehow get through it. I am lucky that I have all of you!
1) I've been at my parents house and overwhelmed with so many different thoughts that my mind is kind of numb and blank, if that makes sense.
2) I feel like I'm in such limbo with this pregnancy that my mind is numb and blank, if that makes sense too...
But I've been following all of you and really really appreciate knowing what you are all doing and thinking. I know I am surrounded by friends and like-minded women. It means the world to me.
I have had a couple of moments where I almost let myself think that I'll get a baby out of this, but I catch myself and metaphorically slap my wrists for the presumptuousness. I am superstitious, even though I know better. My thoughts aren't going to change what happens with this pregnancy, but still...
So I have tried to keep my mind really numb, as that feels like a safe place to be. Neither excited and happy nor stressed and angst-ridden, just in that place of nothingness.
My mother is a control freak, and extremely judgemental of everyone (and really hard on my dad, though he seems to let it roll off easily). I find it easier when I'm home to be a very docile un-opinionated person. This contributes to mind numbness.
I got to spend some time with two of my great aunts, and shared a room with the one I hadn't seen since I was about 10 years old. She has been through hell and back, and it was amazing to get to know this remarkable woman better, just the two of us. We would lay in bed at night and she told me all kinds of wonderful stories about her life. She's 84 and lost her only daughter a couple of months ago to cancer. One of her two sons died in a flash flood when he was 18, and her husband and love of her life died about 8 years ago of heart failure. Her other son has a couple of kids, but neither is doing very well in life (and I mean, really not doing well). It's a hard place to be. But she is so kind and warm, and still talks about her husband with an amazing romance and love. She is a war bride. He fought in WWII and asked her to wait for him to return (and she said yes). He got back home one night at 9pm, arrived at her house at 10pm, and they were married at 4pm the next day. Incredibly romantic, and apparently a wonderful relationship. Her daughter never married because she said she couldn't find a man who loved her as much as her father loved her mother. Sad, but touching. And she told me about how she wanted four children but lost one at about 4 months and was too terrified to try again. I couldn't bring myself to tell her about my being pregnant, as I'm scared. But I will later. And I look forward to sharing it with her, as well as my earlier loss. If I had stayed a few more days, I probably would have spilled my guts. But given her recent pain with the loss of her daughter, it didn't feel right just yet.
Now I'm back home, and it's wonderful to sleep in my bed with dh and our kitty again. I didn't get to see him before I left, after his dad's heart attack. So it's been a long hard three weeks without each other. And he has to travel for work again soon -- leaves on thursday for about 3 weeks.
He'll be here for our dr's apt on Monday and plans to go with me. But his travel schedule means that he won't be here for any of the testing that we do. Instead of freaking out, I'm keeping my mind numb about it. It is what it is, and I will somehow get through it. I am lucky that I have all of you!
Friday, March 12, 2010
what I want to be like as a mom
My sister and I talk several times a week, but yesterday she called because she very specifically wanted to tell me that our mom loves me, and had said so the other night on the phone with her. This left me rather cold though, and I've been thinking about it ever since. I don't understand.
My mother is not warm and fuzzy. She was the type of mother that required you to be bleeding out your eyeballs before she'd believe you were sick. And she doesn't like weakness. My sister and I can never live up to her expectations. I can't even begin to imagine what they are because we are both pretty freaking well adjusted.
I envy people who want nothing more than their mothers when something goes wrong. My mom is the LAST person I would call.
I've made a few efforts over the years to try and change the relationship. I've been kind of like Bart Simpson in that Butterfingers commercial, you know the one where he keeps getting zapped when he reaches out for the candy bar but he just keeps doing it? incapable of learning.
I reach out to her but it always comes back to bite me in the butt, and I regret putting myself out there like that.
For example, I called home back in January of 2008 and asked for input into the question of whether or not to have kids. I thought it was a really nice conversation. And then when I called in October 2008 to tell them I was pregnant, I was really scared, but it went really well, basically.
But then I had the miscarriage and it all fell apart. My parents didn't handle it well at all, or rather, they just didn't handle it. No real reaction, no sympathy, no nothing really. In fact, a few weeks later when we were on the phone my mom did ask how I was healing and I told her that I was going to the doctor that day b/c I was bleeding again, and heavy, and it was rather early for it to be a period. I was worried. She told me, "well welcome to peri-menopause!"
This is not what you tell a woman who is trying to have a baby and just miscarried. Seriously the wrong thing to say.
I called her back later that day and told her that what she said was really mean. She was so shocked that I called her on it that she didn't say much of anything. But a week or so later she had turned it into one of those, "I'm sorry you were offended" things. I really hate that. It always ends up being about how I'm too sensitive.
My husband left town for several months right after the miscarriage. So that unfortunately left me all alone, and I was really, really not ok. I went into a pretty serious depression. The original plan had been that I'd spend christmas with my parents, but I just couldn't muster the emotional energy to deal with my mother. So I canceled about a month before (never bought my ticket actually). I never called home.
Now my dad is a psychiatrist, so you might have thought that my reclusive behavior would have been a sign. I had even called my sister and begged her to come out to see me. She did. She rocks. But she couldn't stay long b/c she's got a husband and kids and they needed her.
My parents never called to say they were worried about me. They never checked on me. In fact, much later my mom made some comment about how upset SHE had been but that she couldn't talk to any of her friends b/c I hadn't yet wanted to announce my pregnancy (it was only 7 weeks).
Did you catch that? SHE WAS UPSET AND HAD NO ONE TO TALK TO.
I feel a lot better now, and somehow worked my way out of the depression over the last year. I'm finally feeling pretty good and don't cry at the drop of the hat.
But I'm really angry that my mother can't just be a mom. I would have done ANYTHING to have her tell me that it really sucked but that it will be ok, and maybe even cry a little with me. Maybe even just a phone call every now and then to tell me she was thinking about me.
But no, she called me perimenopausal, and made a point to tell me about her friend who is so weak that she still talks about a miscarriage she had many years ago. Nice.
So this is one of the things I think a lot about when I think of having a baby.
I would do everything in my power to make my child know that I loved them no matter what. I would want them to know that no one has a perfect life, that family loves you through good and bad and doesn't think the less of you when things don't go perfectly. That's life. And love, true love is when you love someone even more because you can understand their problems, making it all the more rich when good things happen. I WILL COME RUNNING IF THEY EVER NEED ME. And I will work really hard to know when that might be, even if they can't say it. I really, really want to be one of those warm and fuzzy moms.
My mother is not warm and fuzzy. She was the type of mother that required you to be bleeding out your eyeballs before she'd believe you were sick. And she doesn't like weakness. My sister and I can never live up to her expectations. I can't even begin to imagine what they are because we are both pretty freaking well adjusted.
I envy people who want nothing more than their mothers when something goes wrong. My mom is the LAST person I would call.
I've made a few efforts over the years to try and change the relationship. I've been kind of like Bart Simpson in that Butterfingers commercial, you know the one where he keeps getting zapped when he reaches out for the candy bar but he just keeps doing it? incapable of learning.
I reach out to her but it always comes back to bite me in the butt, and I regret putting myself out there like that.
For example, I called home back in January of 2008 and asked for input into the question of whether or not to have kids. I thought it was a really nice conversation. And then when I called in October 2008 to tell them I was pregnant, I was really scared, but it went really well, basically.
But then I had the miscarriage and it all fell apart. My parents didn't handle it well at all, or rather, they just didn't handle it. No real reaction, no sympathy, no nothing really. In fact, a few weeks later when we were on the phone my mom did ask how I was healing and I told her that I was going to the doctor that day b/c I was bleeding again, and heavy, and it was rather early for it to be a period. I was worried. She told me, "well welcome to peri-menopause!"
This is not what you tell a woman who is trying to have a baby and just miscarried. Seriously the wrong thing to say.
I called her back later that day and told her that what she said was really mean. She was so shocked that I called her on it that she didn't say much of anything. But a week or so later she had turned it into one of those, "I'm sorry you were offended" things. I really hate that. It always ends up being about how I'm too sensitive.
My husband left town for several months right after the miscarriage. So that unfortunately left me all alone, and I was really, really not ok. I went into a pretty serious depression. The original plan had been that I'd spend christmas with my parents, but I just couldn't muster the emotional energy to deal with my mother. So I canceled about a month before (never bought my ticket actually). I never called home.
Now my dad is a psychiatrist, so you might have thought that my reclusive behavior would have been a sign. I had even called my sister and begged her to come out to see me. She did. She rocks. But she couldn't stay long b/c she's got a husband and kids and they needed her.
My parents never called to say they were worried about me. They never checked on me. In fact, much later my mom made some comment about how upset SHE had been but that she couldn't talk to any of her friends b/c I hadn't yet wanted to announce my pregnancy (it was only 7 weeks).
Did you catch that? SHE WAS UPSET AND HAD NO ONE TO TALK TO.
I feel a lot better now, and somehow worked my way out of the depression over the last year. I'm finally feeling pretty good and don't cry at the drop of the hat.
But I'm really angry that my mother can't just be a mom. I would have done ANYTHING to have her tell me that it really sucked but that it will be ok, and maybe even cry a little with me. Maybe even just a phone call every now and then to tell me she was thinking about me.
But no, she called me perimenopausal, and made a point to tell me about her friend who is so weak that she still talks about a miscarriage she had many years ago. Nice.
So this is one of the things I think a lot about when I think of having a baby.
I would do everything in my power to make my child know that I loved them no matter what. I would want them to know that no one has a perfect life, that family loves you through good and bad and doesn't think the less of you when things don't go perfectly. That's life. And love, true love is when you love someone even more because you can understand their problems, making it all the more rich when good things happen. I WILL COME RUNNING IF THEY EVER NEED ME. And I will work really hard to know when that might be, even if they can't say it. I really, really want to be one of those warm and fuzzy moms.
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