I was a lucky girl and I am a fortunate woman.
My dad is special. He's not perfect, but he's good. He's often inappropriately hilarious and he's smart and he gives a great big hug any time for any reason. He doesn't judge too much. I've never had to be anything particularly special for him to treat me like I was. He shows up when I need him. He always has. He gives quirky gifts on random days just because. So, I was lucky to grow up with him and I knew it, my friends knew it, my boyfriends knew it. If he went to the store he always brought home bubble gum or Starbursts. My dad would drive all of my friends home from the movies at midnight, no matter where they lived. If someone had trouble getting a ride I knew my dad would cover them and we'd listen to our pop-crap radio station the whole way, volume up high, acting like the fun foolish kids we were. He never complained, never showed that our squealing teenage girl voices might grate on a nerve. I never felt like he wanted me to be anything other than who I was. I never needed to "grow up" or "act right." He just accepted me, goofy and weird. I was raised to be loved and cared for, respected and valued. That's just true. I learned to be independent and self-reliant, but I also learned that good men could be trusted.
I was a lucky girl.
My husband is special too. Doug is the kind of man everyone wants to be around. He is instantly trusted and loved. He's just one of Those People. Charismatic, fun, up-for-anything, smart. He thinks differently. He's a guy who fixes things, cares for people. He's not afraid to show the world how much he loves our family. He's reliable and a hard worker, an idea man. A man who tries to keep his word. Not perfect, but he's good. He shows up when I need him. Now he's become a dad and it's an awesome thing. He's a dad who marvels at his daughter, his beautiful daughter. He delights in her. We've spent hours just sitting on the floor together watching her. He dresses her and changes her diapers. He eats messy food from slobbery hands just because it makes her laugh. He's learning sign language so he can teach her. He hasn't had to pick her up or drive her friends home. He's never brought her bubble gum (thank God!). But he will one day. I'm sure.
I am a fortunate woman. My daughter is a lucky girl.
Happy Father's Day!
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Monday, May 13, 2013
The Unmitigated JOY of being completely WRONG!
I'm usually right.
I'm an analyst, a thinker, an over-thinker. I see details others miss and patterns others ignore. I run through the possibilities, evaluate information, I'm a problem solver. It's not that I think I'm perfect or have all the answers, I'm just usually right.
On my second Mother's Day I'm going to tell you how wonderful it's been to be so absolutely, positively WRONG the past 14 months. So many of the things I thought I knew before Rowan -about myself and others, about taking care of a baby and a marriage- have been completely nutso when faced with the reality of being a mother. So here's a short list, because I suspect I will be writing this list from now on.
1. My pets are not the same as my child. Before Rowan I thought 'I love my little fur-babies so much there is nothing that can change that.' WRONG! ...well sorta wrong... My love for my pets hasn't changed, but there is a cute little curly-headed, blue-eyed baby living in my house who dances to my fart songs and points to her belly button. I love my pets, really love them, but it's a dim shadow of how I feel about my baby.
2. I am not a cool mom. Before Rowan I rolled my eyes viciously at all the Mommies (with a capital M), with their schedules and their organic fruits and Cheerio-crusted car seats. Yeah, well, I was an asshole. My kid made me a liar. She came equipped with her own schedule and if I don't follow it pretty closely there is a price to be paid. A price to be paid. I know how many times my child has tasted ice cream and cake and exactly how many gummi bears she's eaten throughout her short life. It's completely stupid. I am rolling my eyes at myself...but I'm still counting.
3. Babies are romance killers. Before Rowan I thought Doug and I were so close, so romantic, so in LOVE that we'd never succumb to the TV-watching blahs boring parents fall into. Forget it. My husband is the sweetest, kindest, most loving man I know, but the most romantic thing he can say these days is "here's the remote" or "I'll change that diaper." That being said, watching him become a father to this amazing child we made glues us together in a way we never had before. After 19 years of college and moving and beautiful trips and romantic evenings nothing compares to swaying together in a family dance at three in the morning praying she's actually, finally asleep.
4. I can do anything in 10 minutes. Before Rowan 10 minutes was nothing, barely enough time to select toothpaste at Target. Now, in 10 minutes I can straighten my entire house, make dinner, pack a suitcase, and change a diaper. If you give me 10 extra minutes of sleep in the morning I am happy the whole day. If I get up 10 minutes early I can brush my teeth and have a shower without an audience. Ten minutes can make all the difference.
5. Breastfeeding is sweet. Before Rowan I imagined I would hate breastfeeding. I mean my boobs are my secret weapon, not some kid's juice dispenser. WRONG! Nursing Rowan has occasionally been inconvenient and messy and painful, but mostly it's been the most beautiful part of my day. She snuggles in and pats my face. I stroke her sweet arms, the softest skin I've ever felt. I count her eyelashes while she stares into my eyes. I eat her delicious piggy toes and she giggles. It's been a privilege to care for her this way.
6. Tired. I was never really tired before. If you don't have kids you will not -can not- understand this. If you do, then you do. Enough said.
I know I'm forgetting a ton of things. I can't help it. I have to be in bed in 10 minutes and I'm pretty sure I can get 2 loads of laundry folded, bills paid, and dinner put together for tomorrow night. :-)
I'm an analyst, a thinker, an over-thinker. I see details others miss and patterns others ignore. I run through the possibilities, evaluate information, I'm a problem solver. It's not that I think I'm perfect or have all the answers, I'm just usually right.
On my second Mother's Day I'm going to tell you how wonderful it's been to be so absolutely, positively WRONG the past 14 months. So many of the things I thought I knew before Rowan -about myself and others, about taking care of a baby and a marriage- have been completely nutso when faced with the reality of being a mother. So here's a short list, because I suspect I will be writing this list from now on.
1. My pets are not the same as my child. Before Rowan I thought 'I love my little fur-babies so much there is nothing that can change that.' WRONG! ...well sorta wrong... My love for my pets hasn't changed, but there is a cute little curly-headed, blue-eyed baby living in my house who dances to my fart songs and points to her belly button. I love my pets, really love them, but it's a dim shadow of how I feel about my baby.
2. I am not a cool mom. Before Rowan I rolled my eyes viciously at all the Mommies (with a capital M), with their schedules and their organic fruits and Cheerio-crusted car seats. Yeah, well, I was an asshole. My kid made me a liar. She came equipped with her own schedule and if I don't follow it pretty closely there is a price to be paid. A price to be paid. I know how many times my child has tasted ice cream and cake and exactly how many gummi bears she's eaten throughout her short life. It's completely stupid. I am rolling my eyes at myself...but I'm still counting.
3. Babies are romance killers. Before Rowan I thought Doug and I were so close, so romantic, so in LOVE that we'd never succumb to the TV-watching blahs boring parents fall into. Forget it. My husband is the sweetest, kindest, most loving man I know, but the most romantic thing he can say these days is "here's the remote" or "I'll change that diaper." That being said, watching him become a father to this amazing child we made glues us together in a way we never had before. After 19 years of college and moving and beautiful trips and romantic evenings nothing compares to swaying together in a family dance at three in the morning praying she's actually, finally asleep.
4. I can do anything in 10 minutes. Before Rowan 10 minutes was nothing, barely enough time to select toothpaste at Target. Now, in 10 minutes I can straighten my entire house, make dinner, pack a suitcase, and change a diaper. If you give me 10 extra minutes of sleep in the morning I am happy the whole day. If I get up 10 minutes early I can brush my teeth and have a shower without an audience. Ten minutes can make all the difference.
5. Breastfeeding is sweet. Before Rowan I imagined I would hate breastfeeding. I mean my boobs are my secret weapon, not some kid's juice dispenser. WRONG! Nursing Rowan has occasionally been inconvenient and messy and painful, but mostly it's been the most beautiful part of my day. She snuggles in and pats my face. I stroke her sweet arms, the softest skin I've ever felt. I count her eyelashes while she stares into my eyes. I eat her delicious piggy toes and she giggles. It's been a privilege to care for her this way.
6. Tired. I was never really tired before. If you don't have kids you will not -can not- understand this. If you do, then you do. Enough said.
I know I'm forgetting a ton of things. I can't help it. I have to be in bed in 10 minutes and I'm pretty sure I can get 2 loads of laundry folded, bills paid, and dinner put together for tomorrow night. :-)
Monday, February 13, 2012
Things to Remember
I'm 37 weeks pregnant today--Baby C is FULL TERM! He is measuring 7lbs8oz (72nd percentile overall, 99th for head and belly!!, 60th for leg length). She could show up any day now to change our lives forever so I decided to write a list of Things I want to remember about my old life, when our new life begins:
1. It's not really a new life, it's a natural progression. I don't have to be a different person because I'm experiencing this huge change. I still get to be me -with my loud mouth and silly streak and weird observations- I don't have to try to be someone I'm "supposed" to be. I only have to add Mom to my resume and accept what that brings.
2. Doug and I were ALREADY a family. Even without Baby C. He is joining our family, not creating it. We did that together years ago. Our life together hasn't been simply the precursor for Making A Baby. It's been a good and fulfilling life. This is our next great adventure.
3. Some things are worth the trouble. Like fun. And dancing in the kitchen. And crayons. And clean sheets. And loving our pets. And getting a babysitter. And taking a walk. And asking for help. And travel. Some things are worth short-term discomfort and disorder for long-term gain.
4. Some things aren't worth the trouble. Like spotless floors. And clean sheets (if we're just too tired). And piano lessons at 8am on Saturday mornings. And laundry. And perfect attendance. And being on time all the time. And matching clothes. Some things require too much mental and physical effort. We're not shooting for perfection here, we're trying to have a life.
5. Pregnancy is wonderful. It's been more fun than difficult. Pregnancy has been worth the inconveniences. Even though I had to see the doctor a gazillion times and have heartburn and morning sickness and Restless Leg Syndrome and weird knee pain and didn't make it to Disney World one last time. Pregnancy has been a gift. Even though I had to mourn the loss of my other babies.
I've had an abundance of support and caring from so many people. I've made new friends (Kesha!) and relied heavily on my oldest. I've seen the very best in Doug: his love, excitement, hard work, and incredible patience. I've surprised myself. I've been both tougher and more vulnerable than I thought I could be. I'm ready to meet Baby C, but I'll be sad when this part is over...I hope I remember it.
1. It's not really a new life, it's a natural progression. I don't have to be a different person because I'm experiencing this huge change. I still get to be me -with my loud mouth and silly streak and weird observations- I don't have to try to be someone I'm "supposed" to be. I only have to add Mom to my resume and accept what that brings.
2. Doug and I were ALREADY a family. Even without Baby C. He is joining our family, not creating it. We did that together years ago. Our life together hasn't been simply the precursor for Making A Baby. It's been a good and fulfilling life. This is our next great adventure.
3. Some things are worth the trouble. Like fun. And dancing in the kitchen. And crayons. And clean sheets. And loving our pets. And getting a babysitter. And taking a walk. And asking for help. And travel. Some things are worth short-term discomfort and disorder for long-term gain.
4. Some things aren't worth the trouble. Like spotless floors. And clean sheets (if we're just too tired). And piano lessons at 8am on Saturday mornings. And laundry. And perfect attendance. And being on time all the time. And matching clothes. Some things require too much mental and physical effort. We're not shooting for perfection here, we're trying to have a life.
5. Pregnancy is wonderful. It's been more fun than difficult. Pregnancy has been worth the inconveniences. Even though I had to see the doctor a gazillion times and have heartburn and morning sickness and Restless Leg Syndrome and weird knee pain and didn't make it to Disney World one last time. Pregnancy has been a gift. Even though I had to mourn the loss of my other babies.
I've had an abundance of support and caring from so many people. I've made new friends (Kesha!) and relied heavily on my oldest. I've seen the very best in Doug: his love, excitement, hard work, and incredible patience. I've surprised myself. I've been both tougher and more vulnerable than I thought I could be. I'm ready to meet Baby C, but I'll be sad when this part is over...I hope I remember it.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Coming to the End/Beginning
I never thought I'd be this good at being pregnant! I prepared for cankles and pimples and back pain and bedrest, but -so far- I have few complaints. After the initial emotional and physical tidal waves of carrying and losing my twins, I feel pretty good. Now that I'm officially in the home stretch (I'll be 34 weeks on Monday and my doctor thinks Baby C will make his/her appearance at 36-37 weeks), I'm feeling a little sad this part will soon be over.
This has been one of the happiest times in my life. We aren't prepared enough (the nursery still looks like a defunct office and we don't have a pediatrician), but if this little one needed to come home tomorrow I know that Doug and I could handle whatever "he" may bring.
This pregnancy hasn't gone at all like I envisioned. I hoped to get the work and planning done during the second trimester so everything could be organized, functional, and seamless. But I quickly learned this isn't a party I can plan with a task list and some elbow grease. My plans aren't important and that's been beautiful (and difficult sometimes) to accept.
Instead Doug and I have become parents together, watching the little blob on the ultrasound screen become an actual baby squirming around in my belly. "He" has hair and chub rolls and a cute little chin (and maybe Doug's nose...poor kid!). Doug and I lay in bed together on Saturday mornings, when we *should* be choosing a stroller or assembling a crib, and marvel at the little kicks we both feel ('There is a PERSON in there! This is REALLY happening!'). There's no paint on the nursery walls and my new office is a mess, but I know my husband's fears at becoming a father and he knows why I cry every time I leave a prenatal class. I think we've taken care of the important stuff.
I think of myself as competent, independent, and strong, but now I see that I can allow myself to be taken care of. I can delight in the questions and attentions of my friends and family, accept help when it's offered, listen politely to advice I'll never take, and let others love my sweet Baby C as I do. This baby has already opened my life and melted my cynical heart, already changed me in some of the best ways.
And I didn't get CANKLES!! ...so far...
This has been one of the happiest times in my life. We aren't prepared enough (the nursery still looks like a defunct office and we don't have a pediatrician), but if this little one needed to come home tomorrow I know that Doug and I could handle whatever "he" may bring.
This pregnancy hasn't gone at all like I envisioned. I hoped to get the work and planning done during the second trimester so everything could be organized, functional, and seamless. But I quickly learned this isn't a party I can plan with a task list and some elbow grease. My plans aren't important and that's been beautiful (and difficult sometimes) to accept.
Instead Doug and I have become parents together, watching the little blob on the ultrasound screen become an actual baby squirming around in my belly. "He" has hair and chub rolls and a cute little chin (and maybe Doug's nose...poor kid!). Doug and I lay in bed together on Saturday mornings, when we *should* be choosing a stroller or assembling a crib, and marvel at the little kicks we both feel ('There is a PERSON in there! This is REALLY happening!'). There's no paint on the nursery walls and my new office is a mess, but I know my husband's fears at becoming a father and he knows why I cry every time I leave a prenatal class. I think we've taken care of the important stuff.
I think of myself as competent, independent, and strong, but now I see that I can allow myself to be taken care of. I can delight in the questions and attentions of my friends and family, accept help when it's offered, listen politely to advice I'll never take, and let others love my sweet Baby C as I do. This baby has already opened my life and melted my cynical heart, already changed me in some of the best ways.
And I didn't get CANKLES!! ...so far...
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Doug and I were leaving the doctor's office today after I had taken some fasting blood tests (so I hadn't eaten for about 12 hours and was HUNGRY). In the lobby we realized we'd forgotten to have our parking validated.
Standing outside the elevators we had this conversation:
Doug- Let's just pay for parking so we don't have to run back upstairs.
Carrie- Do you have any cash? I don't have any cash on me.
Doug- No cash. I'll go back upstairs and get it validated. You sit here and decide what you want to eat.
Carrie- I'm SO hungry I can't even think what I want!
After he left, a lady walking by with her son stopped me and asked, "Do you need money for food? I heard you were hungry and don't have money and I just cashed my check, so if you need money for food I can give you some."
I was floored. I thanked her and promised her that we could pay for our food and that we were okay. It seemed that she didn't have a lot of money herself, but she was willing to share hers with us. It's one of those moments I wish I was really rich and could make a grand gesture of thanks. Maybe send her $10,000 or something just because she should be rewarded. Instead I'm making a donation to the food bank.
Standing outside the elevators we had this conversation:
Doug- Let's just pay for parking so we don't have to run back upstairs.
Carrie- Do you have any cash? I don't have any cash on me.
Doug- No cash. I'll go back upstairs and get it validated. You sit here and decide what you want to eat.
Carrie- I'm SO hungry I can't even think what I want!
After he left, a lady walking by with her son stopped me and asked, "Do you need money for food? I heard you were hungry and don't have money and I just cashed my check, so if you need money for food I can give you some."
I was floored. I thanked her and promised her that we could pay for our food and that we were okay. It seemed that she didn't have a lot of money herself, but she was willing to share hers with us. It's one of those moments I wish I was really rich and could make a grand gesture of thanks. Maybe send her $10,000 or something just because she should be rewarded. Instead I'm making a donation to the food bank.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Winging It
Have you picked a name? What's the baby's sex? Breast or bottle feed? What kind of car are you buying? What kind of car seat? stroller? baby carrier? Are you having an epidural? Which pre-school are you looking at? Have you bought a crib? When is your shower? Where are you registered? What is your nursery theme? Are you going to circumcise a boy? Have you picked out names?
All these questions...I have no answers. I am totally winging it at this point. I have a generic sense that I should have answers, but I don't. And guess what? I don't care!
I have a real sense of confidence about being a mom. I'm confident I'm going to screw things up. I'm confident that my kid will be bad occasionally and I will laugh when I should correct. I'm confident I'll get poop on me and want to puke. I'm confident I'll be tired and grumpy and hard to live with. I'm confident that I don't have a clue how hard it will be. I'm also confident I can deal with all of it. I can get through it and love it and, if I make a mistake, I can try to correct it. I'm confident I will be good enough for the challenge.
So, I don't have the answers and I'm winging it. No big plan except show up. Just doing what it takes to get through today and not really worrying too much about tomorrow. Isn't that what all parents do at some level?
All these questions...I have no answers. I am totally winging it at this point. I have a generic sense that I should have answers, but I don't. And guess what? I don't care!
I have a real sense of confidence about being a mom. I'm confident I'm going to screw things up. I'm confident that my kid will be bad occasionally and I will laugh when I should correct. I'm confident I'll get poop on me and want to puke. I'm confident I'll be tired and grumpy and hard to live with. I'm confident that I don't have a clue how hard it will be. I'm also confident I can deal with all of it. I can get through it and love it and, if I make a mistake, I can try to correct it. I'm confident I will be good enough for the challenge.
So, I don't have the answers and I'm winging it. No big plan except show up. Just doing what it takes to get through today and not really worrying too much about tomorrow. Isn't that what all parents do at some level?
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Horrible Woman
Today I got a pedicure. I was craving a little relaxation and Carrie time, plus my feet were crusty. Parts of my pedi were lovely--lemon-scented water and peppermint lotion, the massage was great--but I would rather have an inexperienced child pull out infected in-grown toenails with dull scissors than spend another minute with the horrible woman I sat next to today. Maybe she's nice in real life. Maybe she's a good cook and a charming hostess. I'm sure she loves her family and means well, but today she was horrible.
The last time I was in the spa, over a month ago, I was still happily (freaked out) pregnant with triplets. I was in the early stages of acceptance, so after sitting too quietly for 30 minutes I loudly blurted "I'm pregnant...WITH TRIPLETS!!" The whole room just stared at me for a second and then blew up with excited chatter. They questioned me, cheered me, and shook their heads in shock and thank-God-it's-not-me-gratitude. These were the first people I'd shared my news with outside my family and it was exciting. These strangers and acquaintances were energized and for a few moments I ate that energy and thought 'I can TOTALLY do this!!'
Walking in to the spa today I knew I'd have to tell them the news about the twins. It wasn't too difficult, but it was awkward. I didn't make a big deal of it. When my nail tech asked how I was doing I simply said that I was only having one baby now. I'd lost the other two.
The horrible woman turned, nosed in to the conversation, and said flippantly, "Well, everything happens for a reason." Okay...that's okay, that's not horrible. People say that (or things like it) all the time and my wounds have healed over so I can take it for what it is.
What she said next was unforgivable, horrible: "My sister-in-law gave birth to triplets and one of them only lived for two weeks. I told her it was probably for the best 'cause I didn't know how she could take care of all three since two was like to kill her."
Really? That's what you said? You horrible woman. How could any decent, thinking person ever tell a mother-who had actually held her tiny daughter-it was "for the best" that child had died? Am I wrong? Is there some excuse for this, some justification that makes it okay? Understandable?
I wish I had been more outspoken, but my reaction was too visceral for words at that point. I couldn't articulate, I just knew what she'd said was wrong wrong wrong. I should have said something, I wish I had, but I just gave a disgusted look and turned away.
The last time I was in the spa, over a month ago, I was still happily (freaked out) pregnant with triplets. I was in the early stages of acceptance, so after sitting too quietly for 30 minutes I loudly blurted "I'm pregnant...WITH TRIPLETS!!" The whole room just stared at me for a second and then blew up with excited chatter. They questioned me, cheered me, and shook their heads in shock and thank-God-it's-not-me-gratitude. These were the first people I'd shared my news with outside my family and it was exciting. These strangers and acquaintances were energized and for a few moments I ate that energy and thought 'I can TOTALLY do this!!'
Walking in to the spa today I knew I'd have to tell them the news about the twins. It wasn't too difficult, but it was awkward. I didn't make a big deal of it. When my nail tech asked how I was doing I simply said that I was only having one baby now. I'd lost the other two.
The horrible woman turned, nosed in to the conversation, and said flippantly, "Well, everything happens for a reason." Okay...that's okay, that's not horrible. People say that (or things like it) all the time and my wounds have healed over so I can take it for what it is.
What she said next was unforgivable, horrible: "My sister-in-law gave birth to triplets and one of them only lived for two weeks. I told her it was probably for the best 'cause I didn't know how she could take care of all three since two was like to kill her."
Really? That's what you said? You horrible woman. How could any decent, thinking person ever tell a mother-who had actually held her tiny daughter-it was "for the best" that child had died? Am I wrong? Is there some excuse for this, some justification that makes it okay? Understandable?
I wish I had been more outspoken, but my reaction was too visceral for words at that point. I couldn't articulate, I just knew what she'd said was wrong wrong wrong. I should have said something, I wish I had, but I just gave a disgusted look and turned away.
Friday, September 2, 2011
23 Reasons I Love Summer!
I am a summer girl. I look best with tan lines and the only place I'm graceful is gliding through water. I love all the seasons, but summer is where I live best.
This summer has been weird. I've been sick and sad a lot and just haven't been able to take the day-to-day joy in life that normally comes naturally to me. I was cleaning out a file in my desk and found this list I made last year. Even though I wrote it when I was surely supposed to be working on something else, I'm so glad I have it to remind me how much I love summer. I hope next summer will have all these things and MANY more!!
Bonus: Stuff that sucks about Summer
This summer has been weird. I've been sick and sad a lot and just haven't been able to take the day-to-day joy in life that normally comes naturally to me. I was cleaning out a file in my desk and found this list I made last year. Even though I wrote it when I was surely supposed to be working on something else, I'm so glad I have it to remind me how much I love summer. I hope next summer will have all these things and MANY more!!
- Pool Days
- Tan fat looks better than white fat
- Fresh corn-on-the-cob
- Fresh pesto from the garden
- Sunglasses
- Sandals and glittery flip-flops
- Blond hair
- Make up= mascara and clear lip gloss
- Pedicures and glitter toenail polish
- Splash contests
- Grill out burgers and chicken skewers
- Baked potatoes for dinner
- Kindle reading poolside
- BIRTHDAYS!!
- Long sunsets
- Our beautiful little veggie garden
- BLTs (Kentucky tomatoes from the garden)
- The way Paul's Market smells
- Peaches
- A/C
- Banana pudding
- 4th of July
- Wearing brown, white
Bonus: Stuff that sucks about Summer
- Sweaty thighs on leather/vinyl seats
- Burning steering wheels
- Constantly washing towels
- Getting older: Birthdays
- Looking older: UV Rays from tan fat
- Tan lines from sunglasses
- Shaving required
- Mosquitoes and bees
- It ends
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
A Happy Sad Weekend
I traveled to Texas last weekend when my husband's aunt died. I really don't like Texas (sorry Texas). It's super hot, scrubby, and generally unappealing for someone who loves thick green vegetation and not choking on construction dust.
What I LOVE about Texas is my husband's family.
From the moment I arrived I felt cared for, welcomed. I felt included. They listened to all my stuff about the babies, they seemed genuinely interested in my life, my family, and the smells that make me nauseous. They showed me tons of old pictures and answered me patiently every time I said, "Now, who is this again?" I got gossip, I got support, I got encouragement, and I got pampered.
I've known them a while, and always enjoyed them, but this time I felt like one of them. I fell in love with their kids and I cried over their loss (privately, because that's how they do it). I kicked ass at Cranium!
They came together to mourn and celebrate their sister and mother and daughter and aunt. It feels a bit wrong to say it, but I had fun and I'm glad I got to go.
What I LOVE about Texas is my husband's family.
From the moment I arrived I felt cared for, welcomed. I felt included. They listened to all my stuff about the babies, they seemed genuinely interested in my life, my family, and the smells that make me nauseous. They showed me tons of old pictures and answered me patiently every time I said, "Now, who is this again?" I got gossip, I got support, I got encouragement, and I got pampered.
I've known them a while, and always enjoyed them, but this time I felt like one of them. I fell in love with their kids and I cried over their loss (privately, because that's how they do it). I kicked ass at Cranium!
They came together to mourn and celebrate their sister and mother and daughter and aunt. It feels a bit wrong to say it, but I had fun and I'm glad I got to go.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
The Long-ish Road
Doug and I didn't have to try hard to get pregnant. Actually MAKING babies has been incredibly easy for us, but holding on to them has been hard. Last year I had two miscarriages before the 9th week of pregnancy. Two doesn't sound like many maybe, but due to my "advanced maternal age" (35!!!) and the very low chance of it happening (less than 2%) it was troubling.
I recognize that many people have it much worse than I do. I can't imagine the frustration and devastation of trying for a year or more to get pregnant and THEN having a miscarriage. I always considered myself somewhat lucky that we could get pregnant so easily. However, I also wallowed in the fact that there is practically nothing medicine can do to help someone like me. There's no IVF for recurrent miscarriage, there's only surrogacy.
I've never had the mindset that I must have biological children, I'm a strong believer in adoption, but I also never had to confront the open rebellion of my body. It just wasn't working right. I was getting frustrated and almost afraid to get pregnant...how many babies would I lose?
I hope I have the final answer: 4.
On Monday my high-risk OB confirmed by ultrasound that the twins were gone. We saw their sad little bodies just kind of floating with no heartbeats. No movement. No life.
He also showed me the dancing, wiggling, waving, little lime-sized Baby C who grew twelve days worth in a week.
So, I have the choice to be happy for Baby C or sad sad sad for the little, sweet twins. I decide Baby C needs me. It's not like a regular miscarriage, I can't give in to the sucking pain and failure. I still have work to do. I can't stop crying at odd moments, but I can keep from breaking down. I need to resist the call of my fluffy bed and sad thoughts. I need to take a walk, eat good food, and sleep for refreshment instead of oblivion. I need to watch a funny movie with Doug and make rude comments on Facebook. I don't want Baby C to think this is a sad home with a sad mom, I want him to stay with me.
In the end, if I'm lucky, I will get what I originally wanted. One baby. But it's so much more complicated than that.
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| Baby C. That little half moon thing on the right/middle is his hand right by his head. He's waving! |
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