Mother's Day 2013

Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I informed your dad several times over the last few months that I considered myself a mother, and that he was expected to celebrate me to the fullest extent on this special day.

He came through and bought me a couple of baby photo albums for you, and did several chores throughout the day. The photo albums are great, as I have been wanting some for quite a while now. However, next year I will be politely reminding your dad that his gifts to me on mother’s day need to be mother-centric, not baby-centric. Your gift to me however can be baby-centric, so you should probably start thinking about what you’re going to get me in 2014.

Don’t tell your dad this (as what I’m about to say is completely contrary to every point I argued as to why I should be celebrated on Mother’s Day this year) but the truth is that I don’t really feel like a mom yet.  Everything I do for you still seems theoretical somehow. We are accumulating all sorts of things for your nursery, wardrobe and general survival, yet I’m not sure my brain has quite registered yet that this is for a real, live actual baby that will be here in roughly six weeks.

I feel you kick and squirm and wiggle your feet constantly, and while logically I know that it’s a baby in there, it’s difficult for me to emotionally process that you are real and that what I’m feeling is you…and that you are mine.

It’s surreal to me that you are so close that I can actually reposition your knee in my belly when it presses against my intestines, but that you still may as well be a million miles away. Despite our intimate proximity to one another (you reside inside of me for crying out loud), I have never held your body or touched your face or looked into your eyes. I don’t know what you look like or sound like or smell like. You are a person who will very soon have a favorite color, and a favorite animal, and a favorite food, and a favorite friend…all of which I will be more familiar with than the back of my own hand. Yet as of right now I know none of those things about you. You still feel very much like a mere idea in my mind’s eye, rather than an actual boy—who is my son.

But then sometimes I wonder if I’m more of a mom than I give myself credit for. Perhaps we are so inextricably intertwined with one another that I forget to notice just how much I really do know you, and how much of a mom I really am.

I know that you get the hiccups about three minutes after I drink something. I know that you are sensitive to sugar. I know that you are intrigued with my bladder because you sucker punch it all the time. I know that you like little foot rubs occasionally, and that you like to stretch out your leg—just like I do when I sleep.

And then there are the things that I don’t know about you, but that I project onto you anyway. I have this notion that you have an eager and compliant personality, just like your dad. I feel this way because you were so easy to get here in the first place, and you’ve been in the head-down position and ready to go for the last eight weeks. I also have this notion that you are easy and laid back, which probably comes from the fact that you have caused me virtually no distress throughout the entire pregnancy.  But I also imagine you to be energetic and playful, as evidenced by all of our ultrasounds. From that first sonogram when we saw you literally buzzing with excitement at nine weeks gestation, to that second ultrasound where we saw you do several barrel rolls and flips, to the last ultrasound where we weren’t even able to get all of your measurements because you wouldn’t hold still long enough for the tech to get a clear picture—I interpreted all of that to be indicative of an enthusiastic little guy who would very much like to come out and play.  

I guess that what I’m trying to say is that I don’t know you but I also kind of know you. I don’t feel quite like your mom just yet, but I do know that I am your mom. And no matter what, I think we’ll be great friends.

Happy Mother’s Day to me,  indeed.

In other news, on Saturday we attended a child birth class. It did have the effect of making everything feel a little bit more real. We learned all about how you intend to get from point A to B, and how I’m basically just supposed to sit back and let all of that happen to me.

There was a lot of discussion about the use of pain medication during labor. I know that some people feel really passionate about not using any intervention whatsoever during the process, whereas other people want to sign up for an epidural two months before their water breaks. For me, personally, I guess I don’t really feel all that strongly one way or another. On the one hand it seems silly to commit to forgoing all that our modern era has to offer medically, just for the sake of doing it the hard way. But on the other hand, there is something a little unappealing about being strapped into bed with an IV drip, catheter, and needles inserted into my spine for an event which should be the most natural thing in the world.

So for me, I guess the plan is to just go with the flow and see what happens, and make my decisions based on whatever makes sense to me at the time. If for whatever reason I feel like I can do the whole thing naturally without help, then I’ll go for it. But if it becomes too painful and I feel like I need some alleviation, I won’t beat myself up for that at all. I’m sure women who go into the whole ordeal with my attitude are exactly the types who end up getting an epidural because they haven’t made the firm commitment otherwise, but like I said—I just don’t care in the long run. I just want to get you here safe and sound with as little drama as possible.

Right now you are 34 weeks along, and so I need you to hang tight for another three weeks to make sure that you are full-term. But once we hit that 37 week mark, feel free to make your move because your nursery should be finished by then, and I’ll be 100% over the whole pregnancy thing. Plus, there are some things at work I wouldn’t mind getting out of earlier than later.  

8 Months!

This is you at 8 months. I had to move away from the athletic shirts because they don't fit anymore...

Well, it appears as though we’ve reached the 8th month of pregnancy. Pregnancy math doesn’t really make sense to me (as is the case with all math) since even though I’m in my 8^th month, I still have 8 weeks to go. I guess it’s because technically women are actually pregnant for ten months…something which was news to me only after the fact. It was also news to me that Ph.D programs take significantly longer than the five years your dad and I signed up for, so I guess I don’t really get Ph.D math either.

Prince William and Duchess Kate are expecting their first baby around the same time you are due. We have noticed that Kate looks remarkably less pregnant than I do. She looks like she may have just eaten a hamburger, while I look like I ate an 8 year old child. I read somewhere that they refer to their fetus as their “Little Grape,” whereas you still pretty much go by Chicken Fry and/or our “Little Uterine Goblin.” If you say “Little Uterine Goblin” in an English accent, it sounds more refined.  Even though you are distantly related to Will and Kate’s child, once you see the apartment we’re moving you into, it will become immediately clear that you were born on the wrong side of that vast gene pool. Sorry about that.

Although things are still running smoothly, this last month I realized that I may have overestimated my physical abilities while pregnant. For some reason, the walk to work in the mornings is so difficult for me that I get a little dizzy and nauseated. I think it’s because there’s an ever so slight incline as I approach Beacon Hill. But for now I can still manage the walk home, so I’ll continue to do that for as long as possible.

Pregnancy insomnia has been a bit of an issue for me as well. Not only am I uncomfortable, but at about 2:30 each morning I wake up with racing thoughts that I can’t seem to let go of until right about 10 minutes before my alarm goes off. Ironically, at night my mind stresses out about virtually everything under the sun except your impending birth. I think it’s because I’m probably in denial about the whole thing, and my brain has chosen not to address it. Instead, my mind focuses on the really important stuff like changing light bulbs and ordering photographs off of Snapfish.

This last month has been spent trying to prepare for your arrival. We picked out a pediatrician, changed over to a better insurance plan, began the horrific packing/purging process to move to our new apartment (which, let me emphasize again, is the least awesome apartment ever), and most importantly your dad has started on the cradle that he’s building for you and your future siblings, and maybe one day all of your children too. Tomorrow we’re going to go get your stroller and car seat, and on Sunday is our first baby shower.  I guess what all of this means is that it’s happening. It’s really, really happening.

As far you go, even though you’re getting more cramped, your movements are also becoming stronger and more coordinated. And sometimes really violent. Occasionally you’ll thump me so hard when I’m laying down that my body actually lurches forward. Each night your dad likes to play “hunt the baby” which involves me lying on my back (for as long as I can, which isn’t long) while your dad pokes around my belly in search of a baby limb. Sometimes you win, which means your dad wasn’t able to find you…but usually he wins because there’s almost always a foot or an elbow or a baby bum poking out.

Usually you’ll poke me, I’ll poke you back, and then you quickly move away. But every now and then you’ll stick your foot out and let me massage it for a while. Obviously you are related to your Nana in that regard. You still get the hiccups all the time—at least once, but usually two or three times a day. And finally, on rare occasions I can feel you blowing bubbles.

Things are still progressing wonderfully and for that I thank you. Every day we imagine what you’ll be like and look like and sound like, and it’s almost impossible for me to wrap my mind around the fact that in mere weeks we’ll finally have all those answers.

Boston Marathon 2013

Yesterday was Patriot’s Day—a Massachusetts holiday that honors the anniversary of the Battles of Lexington and Concord on April 19, 1775. For those of us who live in Boston however, we mostly think of Patriot’s Day as Marathon Monday, when hundreds of thousands of runners come here to run a marathon in front of millions of spectators.

It’s always one of my favorite times of the year. We get the day off work, and often the first real sign of Spring, where I am reminded that winter is slowly backing away and won’t show its face again for another seven months.

Yesterday your dad and I were downtown during the race. We like to be out and about, but tend to steer clear of the race route itself because the crowds run in the millions near the runners, and your dad starts to get a little claustrophobic. We were making our way back home, around 2:45, along Commonwealth Avenue when we noticed there were a lot more police, fire trucks, helicopters, and soldiers present than we were used to during past Marathon Mondays.

It didn’t take us too long to learn that a bad person had tried to hurt a lot of people at the race, and the police were trying to get everyone to a safe place. Even though your dad and I were close to where it happened, we were far enough away to know that we were completely safe and didn’t have anything to worry about.

As we were trying to get home through the swarms of scared spectators, runners, news cameras, police and the National Guard, I had plenty of time to think about the world that I am about to bring you into. I think that thought has crossed the minds of all soon-to-be-parents, regardless of what age or era they are about to give birth in.

I didn’t hear the explosions or witness any of the injuries that occurred, but I did see a lot of helpful people on the streets, and I did get a lot of loving text messages and voicemails from family and friends, and I sure saw a lot of outpouring of cooperation, condolences, and support coming in from all over the world to our little city. From my vantage point, there was one unidentified bad person, but millions and millions of compassionate, caring and truly concerned good people all around me.

I came to the conclusion that regardless of what happened in Boston yesterday, or anywhere else for that matter, the world I am bringing you into is a fabulous one.

You are no doubt going to be born during a complicated time in our history. But when you think about it, every year probably tends to be more complicated than the year before, so we were all in a sense born during the most complicated time in history. The times we live in are all relative, and I believe it’s a rite of passage to be concerned about the next generation because at any given time technology is advancing, society is changing, values are evolving, and the future is uncertain.  So while I worry somewhat about what the future holds for you, I take some comfort in knowing that my parents had that same concern about me, just my grandparents had for them, and their parents before them.

Even though part of my job is to worry about what sorts of things you’ll be confronted with in your youth that I never had to deal with in mine, your job is to approach life head-on and without fear. Obviously your mother would like for you to exercise reasonable caution when it comes to crossing the street, talking to strangers, and jumping off of things—but really I want you to enjoy this gift of life that I’ve given you and not concern yourself too much with those very few people on our planet who, for whatever reason, just do not want to let the rest of us be.

Always know that this planet is huge, and that there are billions of people who inhabit it, and 99.9999999999% of those people are good, loving, helpful people who do not want to hurt anybody. Unfortunately, due to 24 hour media coverage and our rapid access to information these days, most of the stories you will hear will be about those few people who do bad things. You will hear a lot of people say things like “what is this world coming to?” and “what’s next?” This will make your brain play tricks on you and tempt you to believe that there are more bad people than good people, and more bad things than good things. When you find yourself having those thoughts, just take a look around you and take note of all the people you see following the rules, and going about their lives without hurting anyone. And when you do that, remember that the reason nobody makes a big fuss over all the good guys is because human nature is actually good, so it’s not newsworthy. I guess we just like to talk about the bad guys more because there are so few of them.

It is my hope that as your mom, I can learn to navigate the scary things in life with you gracefully, because rest assured there will certainly be some scary things that will happen in your life.  Both your dad and I have a lot to learn about that delicate balance between shielding you from the things you need to be shielded from, while being careful to not surround you in an unsustainable bubble of naiveté that will inevitably burst at the most inopportune time. I guess I’ll know if we struck that balance if I eventually see you approach life with perspective and calmness, with a mixture of realism and optimism. It will take you a while to get there though, as I’m still working on that general life approach myself.  

In the end, just know that your dad and I will do everything in our power to keep you safe and healthy, and that it is our expectation that you will live life to the fullest and never look back (but also that you will be cautious when it comes credit card debt).

7 Months

Well here we are. Officially enormous. We've reached the seven month mark and I definitely feel pregnant. I still feel good, but still pretty achy. Also, my feet have grown a half-size. Seriously, I went from a size 8.5 shoe to a 9. It happened so fast though, that I haven't been able to find the time to get some new shoes, so I pretty much hobble around with bloody, blistered heels all day.

I feel you squirming all the time in there, and want to warn you that you should get it all out of your system because I assume you're about to run out of room to move around much. You get the hiccups all the time, and seem to be most active at night and on Sundays. I doubt you're actually more active on Sundays, but I'm certainly less active so I'm much more aware of you. In fact, as I type this you're bouncing all over the place.

We've been gradually collecting various things for your arrival. You have some onesies, some binkies, some receiving blankets, and a little going home outfit for when we leave the hospital. We're really looking forward to moving into our new place though, so that we can finally start setting up your nursery. I think my nesting instinct is kicking in, which is sad because I don't have a nest to nest in right now.

I do want some serious props though. I am seven months pregnant and 30 pounds huge, yet this last week I've still managed to walk to and from work each day, totaling about 5 miles of walking a day. My feet are swollen and sore, my back kills, and I'm utterly exhausted--but I know that I need to keep my body moving as much as possible for as long as I can. I will probably use this as a martyr chip for pretty much the rest of your life. Like, you won't be able to complain to me that your feet are tired when we go furniture shopping, because I'll always say "you know, when I was seven months pregnant with you and 200 pounds, I walked 5 miles each day just to get to work so that I could provide for you." Then I'll win and you'll have to be quiet and well behaved.

This last week your Uncle Jack and his girlfriend Joy came and stayed with us for a while. Your uncle, being the baby of the family and a typical 20-something year old guy, is less than intrigued with pregnancy and all things baby-related. However, one night I was lying on the couch and Uncle Jack just happened to see you give me a giant kick, and I've never seen anybody lunge so feverishly at my abdomen like he did. Fortunately you were in the mood to say 'hi' and gave him one more good belt right smack dab on his hand. Uncle Jack was awe struck and truly elated. I've never seen him so enthusiastic about anything, quite frankly. I was so grateful that you were feeling playful right at that very moment. Now I think the two of you are bonded, and I will feel less guilty leaving you for weeks at a time at his house while your dad and I take exotic vacations some day. Feel free to give him a hard time.

I think as of right now we only have 70-something days left before you get here. We are so excited, and increasingly nervous. We can't wait to see your little face once and for all.

6 Months

The time is flying by and dragging along, all at once. On the one hand I can't wait to see your little face and introduce you to this world (and, I'm not gonna lie, I cannot wait to have my body all to myself again), but on the other hand there is so much to do, and so much to figure out, and so many naps I need to have that it's okay with me that you still have a little while left to bake.

These days, you are not the ideal roommate. In fact, once your lease is up in June I don't think I'll be renewing it. You and I are having a hard time figuring out how to both fit in my body. You seem to be struggling to find space, and prefer to hunker right up against my diaphragm.  This means that I spend a lot of time trying to get full breaths of air, which means that I have to yawn a lot, and sometimes hyperventilate until I almost die.

You are also making it pretty difficult for me to get a good night's rest, as I have to flip over about every 30 minutes to keep from breaking my hips. Hip pain has been a bit of an issue with you, in addition to quite a bit of round ligament pain.

This is not to say that I am oblivious to your own discomfort however. I'm pretty sure you get squished quite a bit, because you tell me to back up off every chance you get. Whenever I cross my legs and lean over my desk, you get really claustrophobic and kick me as hard as you can until I shift positions. And you really don't like it when I inadvertently stretch a certain way when lying in bed, because you kick me in the same place each time to tell me to knock it off and let you sleep. The last time you did this I thought it was your dad poking me and I told him to stop. It turns out though that was all you and your dad felt unjustly accused. I think you're kind of opinionated or something.

Anyway, things are still going swimmingly despite our occasional turf wars. This month we will sign up for a birthing class and will continue to try and figure out where we'll live this summer before and after you're born. Knowing that we're going to move in a couple of months has been difficult for me, because I would love nothing more than to start setting up a nursery for you. But at this point it's not worth doing all of that since we'll likely have to move everything not once but twice before you even get here. So instead we've been trying to just watch a lot of grown up movies while we still can.

21 Weeks and You are Mr. Plumpy Pants

Today was my/our monthly check up with the doctor, and frankly I’m a little irritated at you right now. For the first 18 weeks of pregnancy I managed to only gain 5 pounds. I was practically withering away. Then, three weeks later, I get on the scale and my total weight gain is 17 pounds. TWELVE POUNDS IN THREE WEEKS. That’s FOUR POUNDS PER WEEK. The doctor was confused as to the rapid weight gain, and so he weighed me three times, each with the same number attached. Then he took my blood pressure twice to make sure I wasn’t dying from the increased weight load, but if anything it was a little on the low side. So I’m healthy as a horse, and you are healthy as a horse, but one of us is filling out a little too quickly and I very much need it not to be me.  

He reviewed with me your stats from the last ultrasound, and said your brain and spine and bones and organs all look great. I got to listen to your heartbeat again, which is very strong, and I informed the doctor that you are kicking me almost constantly these days.  I’m not sure who to credit for your A+ development, but I’d like to think I have a little something to do with it. Your dad was always a little nervous about me being the sole person in charge of your survival, but so far we seem to be working out a good system. I go about life surviving, and you seem to go about your own live surviving right along with me. Together we are like a pair of gestational survivalists.

Today is Valentine’s Day. This will be the last one we ever have without you here. Technically you are my Valentine this year, even though your dad is the one getting a card. If it helps, I gave you three mini-brownies today as your treat (which may be a piece of the overall weight gain puzzle…but I can’t help it. You like sugary things and it’s a special occasion).

This weekend we’re taking you to Syracuse to do some house hunting for Aunt Shay and Uncle Mike. They are moving there in about 10 weeks for Uncle Mike’s school program, which makes us pretty excited because Syracuse is only about five hours away. We told them we’d scope out the places they’re looking at online and let them know what we think. I hope that now that I’m an almost-Mom, I’ll know what kinds of things to look for that are child safe and friendly for your cousins. Like hopefully if I see a hypodermic needle and a homeless guy sleeping in one of the rental houses I’ll know that’s a bad sign, whereas a nicely manicured neighborhood with lots of well- groomed children running about is probably a good sign. We’re also planning on hitting up Cooperstown on the way back to Boston to check out the Baseball Hall of Fame. Your dad is excited to take you there, even though I reminded him that you can’t open your eyes yet, and even if you could, it’s not like there’s a window on my uterus for you to look out of. He doesn’t seem phased by this though, and hopes nonetheless that you’ll enjoy the experience.

This week I also took the time to create a baby registry. I swear, if we end up with even a third of the stuff I put on there I will be overwhelmed. But I tried to just stick with the things everyone said I absolutely must have, so I guess we’ll have to just wait and see what happens. Either way, you are one expensive little person for someone who has yet to pay taxes or contribute to society in any meaningful way.

Until next time, be safe and have fun. And let’s both try to watch what we eat from here on out, okay?

5 Months! Half Way There!

Confession: This picture was actually taken at 21 weeks (not 20). But you get the gist. 

We're half-way there! And I am definitely feeling pregnant at this point. Sleeping has gotten a little more uncomfortable, clothes just don't fit right, and it's a little harder to do things like put on my socks in the morning. My hips hurt quite a bit these days too, which I read is an indicator that my pelvis is gearing up to expel you in a few short months.

As far as other pregnancy symptoms at 21 weeks goes, there isn't too much to report. You still continue to be remarkably good to your mother. I have quite an appetite these days, but sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between my regular big appetite and my pregnancy appetite. I could eat bean burritos all day long, every day, with extra beans and extra hot sauce. I can tell you are your father's son though because the only discernible craving I have is spicy foods. Grammy told me that when she was pregnant with your dad she craved spicy things too. The other day I asked your dad to make me the hottest salsa he could. So we went to the store and picked up four habenero peppers, several jalapenos  and other spices to try and appease my spicy palate...but to no avail. 

This morning you were nice enough to kick your dad's hand a couple of times. Thank you for doing that, as he's been waiting patiently(ish). We also got all your blood work back, and the results were great. Everything looks as normal as it possibly could, so the doctors have assured us that there's nothing to worry about with you (aside from the general things we're supposed to worry about, like your general health and well-being, your grades, your friends, the music you listen to, you getting your heart broken, you learning to drive, etc). We were never that worried to begin with, but it did feel nice to get some confirmation once and for all.

This weekend we are snowed in. The 5th biggest blizzard to hit New England hit us last night. We got the day off from work--well, I did anyway. Your dad still went into lab for a little while. Anyway, we spent most of the day yesterday watching movies, looking for post-docs job opportunities, and eating everything in sight.

We still don't know where exactly you'll be born this summer. We thought we would hear from the INL in January, but it's almost mid-February and we haven't heard a thing. There's a possibility that your dad won't get funded next year for grad school, so we are more motivated than ever to try and find alternate solutions. It's a little stressful not to know where we'll be or what we'll be doing when you arrive, but we take some backwards comfort in knowing that no matter what...you'll still be arriving, rain or shine. Everything else will work itself out.