Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow

I can't remember a time when my mother wasn't giddily happy to recount how difficult her labor with me was. "Thirty-two hours and then a c-section!" she'd say. Well, now she can't do it anymore because my story is better: 72 hours and then a c-section. Woo!

We are enjoying being home from the hospital very much. Lunchboy's mom is staying with us for a week, which is amazing and for which we are super grateful. Grandmas are beautiful things. So far Margot is an excellent baby. She eats like a champ, sleeps like a log, and is about the cutest thing I have ever seen. For example:



Also:



Griffin and Cringer investigate whether the baby's cuteness surpasses their own:



So far the cats' reactions to the baby have been widely divergent. Griffin isn't sure how we could have misunderstood her dislike for children enough to bring home one of our own, but since we're that dumb she'll tolerate the baby as best she can. Scully is curious but isn't a fan of the crying. Cringer has designated herself nanny cat. When Margot cries, she comes running and start talking back to make sure everything is ok and see if there's anything she can do. She observes breastfeeding with intense interest and likes to sniff Margot's head when I'm feeding her at night. She's the only one of the three who's sleeping on the bed again. The other two mostly like to be where the baby is not. I am hoping they'll come around, but who knows.

Heart-shaped glasses

Margot Lauren
Born February 8, 2009 at 6:41am
8lbs 3oz

We are all happy, healthy, and doing great. More pictures soon.

Yeah

1. I woke up at 4am with a head cold and am now really, really glad the bean isn't here yet and doesn't appear to be on the way. Just...bleh.

2. My acupuncturist told me to be patient. Actually, what she said was "Patience is a good thing." I love her but she has no kids and I just want to smack her. I'm so tired of being lectured by people right now. This probably has to do with being tired, sick, and 10 MONTHS PREGNANT, so please keep the advice to yourself lady.

3. If one more person (including my mother) tells me that I can't have the kid until XX date, or that I have to have the kid immediately if not sooner because their schedule doesn't work around ambiguity, I am seriously going to scream. LOUDLY. It doesn't work like that. It's not about you. GET OVER IT.

4. The eviction notice has been served: my doctor went ahead and scheduled me for induction in like 2 weeks, so I am really hoping that something happens before then. From what I hear, Pitocin is like taking a hammer and hitting yourself in the face with it really hard for about 15 hours.

And now the venting is done.

Vamped out

Over the last nine months, food has been Lunchboy's way of contributing to my pregnancy. It's been his way of making sure I and and baby are taken care of. He's relished the unpredictable donut cravings, the 11pm PB&J requests, the desperate need for cheeseburgers at completely random moments. He bought and read books about eating for a healthy pregnancy and cooked dinners even when I wasn't hungry just because he wanted to make sure I'd have good food in case I changed my mind.

So as we've started revving up for the baby's imminent arrival (though to be honest, right now I think this kid is happily camped out with no plans of leaving the premises anytime soon), Lunchboy found this meal plan online that is supposed to keep us in frozen dinners for a few weeks after we bring the baby home. Yesterday he embarked on a 9-hour food preparation and cooking spree that involved every dish in the kitchen and what seemed like a metric ton of Ziploc bags. While he cooked, he watched a couple of movies on the DVR that he'd been dying to watch but hadn't had a chance yet. For some reason half of the movies were horror movies and one of them was 30 Days of Night. Thinking that I was a grownup on the verge of becoming a parent (and parents are supposed to scare away the monsters under the bed), I made the gigantic mistake of parking myself on the couch and watching half of the movie.

Other than zombies and aliens, vampires are my great childhood fear. I can't explain it. They terrified me to the point that, when I was 10, I sprinkled garlic powder on the carpet in my bedroom. My parents had the rug cleaned but the smell never really came out and I was totally ok with that because it meant that the vampires would never make it all the way to my bed. Anyway, the problem is that even though I know they're not real, the fear sticks in my head for weeks. So last night, when I woke up at 5am as usual in need of chocolate milk, I started down the stairs and found myself face to face with a vision of the vampires from the movie, and turned right around and went back upstairs to bed. The idea of shrieking, toothy creatures lurking around every dark corner was just too much. Parking downstairs in the garage after yoga tonight? Also not good. Being home alone? I have all the lights and the TV on. I am my 13-year-old self. But at least the kitchen smells like the 40 cloves of garlic that Lunchboy used to cook his phalanx of food. That has to count for something, right?

Waiting

Last night I dreamed that I was carrying the baby around in her snowsuit and another mom asked me how old she was, but I couldn't answer because I didn't know the baby's birthday. Then I dreamed I was back in college and was trying to figure out how to take classes with the baby in tow. Could I breastfeed in the back of class? It all seemed to make sense in the dream. I think.

The weekly snowstorm is raging outside and I am grateful to be cozy on the couch with no shoveling to be done. The cats are being ridiculously lazy and I cannot blame them. They are also slowly colonizing the nursery--Scully's new snoozing spot is smack in the middle of the glider that Lunchboy's mom got us for Christmas. On the crib blanket no less. After finding Griffin sleeping in the crib one too many times, we have lined the crib with tin foil and that seems to be keeping her out, but she is still stubbornly addicted to the changing table. Most spoiled cats EVER.

I'm due in 10 days and I am EXCITED. Also impatient, though I don't really have cause to be. I am having lots of contractions but they aren't going anywhere yet, so I am just walking as much as I can, taking lots of baths, eating lightly, and taking things as they come. On Monday the doctor told me that I'm 1cm dilated, which made me giggle because while it means that things are kicking into gear, it's also like passing the one mile marker when running a marathon. This part of the journey is such a lesson in letting go and nonattachment. I just can't wait to see what this little person will be like!

All in my head

Last night I had a birth dream, the first baby-related dream I've had since getting knocked up. In the dream, I went into labor but could not find the doctor or the hospital or Lunchboy. I was surrounded by chaos but felt completely calm. When it was time, I found a lovely spot in an outdoor garden and gave birth admidst flowers and greenery. It felt very important to be in nature. One push (definitely a dream). She had her eyes open when she emerged and it was so amazing to meet her.

Also yesterday, I hoovered an entire bag of Gummi Savers--on the way to the dentist, no less. Could this have caused the dream? Anything is possible.

I boomerang between feeling safe assuming that I've got 3-5 weeks to go and waking up every day wondering if today will be the day. Every twinge gets me thinking. Signs that make other people think things are afoot turn out to be nothing, so I have stopped putting much stock in anything but patience. This is hard for me, as I have never been a patient person.

It doesn't help that symptoms from the first trimester are re-emerging, probably due to all the hormonal insanity going on. I have a weird taste in my mouth all the time. My appetite is reduced but I only want very specific foods (almost entirely carbs and processed sugar). I FEEL weird but assume that has more to do with the crap I'm eating than any imminent changes. I spent 7 months avoiding sugar like the plague but now cannot resist cookies/gummi bears/chocolate/anything sweet. It's gross and perplexing, but lean protein now tastes awful to me. WTF???

I was sort of hoping for an inauguration baby, but I don't think preference plays into that kind of thing. Hooray Obama!! I never want to see or hear from GWB ever, ever, ever again.

What could possibligh go wrong?

Griffin's new napping spot:



37 weeks (with new kitchen, dining room, part of the living room, and a snacking Scully in the background):



Feeling much better. Not commuting seems to have stopped me from becoming a walking sponge. We hung curtains in the nursery today, and now it's all mostly in place. Griffin agrees--the changing table has actually distracted her from sitting in the crib, which had become her new favorite game. Cat thinks she is a child. What a rude awakening she's going to have...

The big heavy

So last week was a tough week for me. Work was crazy and I felt progressively more and more like I was carrying an anvil around on my back. By Sunday I was on the couch and felt bad enough that I uncurled myself from my nest only long enough to take a long, hot bath at noon instead of right before bed. Lunchboy found me in the tub, lolling like a beached whale, and said "tub time already?" I was like, "I am never getting out, if you need me you know where to find me." And then I cried. Everything hurt. My hands and feet were so swollen and painful that I couldn't open the child-safe cap on the Listerine and my running shoes felt like they were squeezing the life out of me.

At my weekly doctor's appointment the next day, I found out I'd gained 5 pounds in one week. "It's all fluid," the doctor said. REALLY. But then she said the magic words: "Are you ready to be done with work? Because I'd like to get you off your feet so this fluid retention stops." And I said yes, yes I am. So now I am on modified bed rest, an ambiguous term that somehow encompasses working from home and the possibility of short term disability, depending on how the insurance company decides to handle it. All I know is I can lie down for most of the day and this is the greatest, most amazing development I can imagine. Except, you know, giving birth.

It has been very, very difficult for me to come to terms with the level of discomfort that I've felt over the past two weeks. Pregnancy is supposed to be beautiful, right? I'm supposed to be glowing and fulfilled by the creation of life in my womb at every possible moment. No one seems to gripe about the last few weeks. In my prenatal yoga class there are 4 women who are at 41+ weeks and they all talk about how fabulous they feel and how they could go on being pregnant forever. That is not me right now. I am pretty miserable and don't feel sincere about trying to put a happy face on it. Should I be stronger or at least stop whining? I often feel that way. But I am definitely feeling very positive about having this baby and taking care of her *outside*.

It's not about babies!

What this week has been like:

They weren't kidding

I thought I wanted to nest a few weeks ago, but what's come over me the last few days takes the concept to a whole new level. I can't stop sweeping the house. The dresser and changing table finally arrived and I'm itching to get everything put away and ready. Even though she probably won't be sleeping in it immediately, the crib bedding is washed and the crib is made up. I can't concentrate on anything other than getting organized and making sure the floor is clean clean clean. I see myself doing it and I know it's insane but I can't stop.

A couple of our friends are now placing bets on when the bean will actually make an appearance. So far we have January 23 and January 25. I'm not due for another month but apparently I am carrying really low (I can't tell). It would be really wonderful if she hung in until she's full term in another week and a half, but after that--fire away. I'm in that weird, lumbering phase where I can't move very well and nothing fits and I'm generally uncomfortable most of the time, but I otherwise feel fine. When she moves, my whole belly moves. Bathtime has turned into a series of scenes from Alien, where my torso goes through these amazing ripples and contortions.

This whole experience has been such a ride. There are moments when I get nervous about giving birth, but right now I'm in a place where I'm just so excited to meet this tiny person and see what she's like. I'm incredibly curious to see how the rest of this journey plays out and what happens when.

More than a rumor

On Sunday we went to a party celebrating Lunchboy's grandparents' 70th wedding anniversary. That's 7-0. I mean, how often do you see that? It's amazing and it was such a great way to start the new year. They got married when his grandfather was 23 and his grandmother was 19, and they are both in their early 90s now. They had nine children, who have created this gigantic family of grandkids, great grandkids, cousins, in-laws, and more children than I've seen at your average daycare center. The room was filled with people laughing, hugging, crying, and watching his grandparents, who held hands the entire time, be interviewed by the evening news. I had this deep feeling of satisfaction watching the reporter ask them questions about what kept them together for so long. Maybe it's just that the news these days is usually so awful that I loved knowing there was something good going on that wouldn't get buried underneath more depressing stories. Later, his grandparents fed each other cake and drank fizzy apple juice. They were amazing to watch. When we went to say hello to them (we had to wait in line--how great is that?), his grandmother put her hand on my belly and said "We're all counting the days!"

Not too many more days to count. I'm due a month from today. The bean will be our first addition to our little family, but it just expanded my heart by a factor of 50 to know that she'll be part of this enormous family that's just waiting to meet her.

Diving in whole hog

Happy new year! I am serious. I am full of hope and faith that 2009 will be all that 2008 wasn't. It feels like everyone is pretty excited to put 2008 behind them. I guess we can only have our asses handed to us so many times in the space of 12 months before we need a fresh start, a clean slate. For me, 2008 was a year of serious ups and downs and I know there will be more of those coming, so my intentions for the year are focused on stability in as much as one can ask for that. Though it sounds naive, I am optimistic about the power of staying open to growth and change, and I feel like there is a lot of that power around at the start of a new year. To me, it's like diving into a pool at the height of summer and instantly feeling cooled and cleansed. But then that may be the hormones talking. Even so, I wish this sense of optimism for all my friends and hope that 2009 will be kickass in the best possible way.

Tempting fate

When you are dying to get some closure and be done with a house sale, what you don't want to have happen is for the phone ring on Christmas Eve and hear that your realtor has bungled a simple form so completely that he has put the sale of your house at risk. Want to know what else is no fun? For your real estate lawyer to vanish completely when he is most needed and to find yourself navigating a really bad situation alone, despite the fact that you are paying through the nose for these professionals to represent you and be on your team.

This was why our Christmas wasn't what I'd call relaxing.

Basically, our realtor forgot about a form that's required for the condo sale to go through, a form that had to be signed by at least two of the other owners in our condo association (but somehow he thought he only needed one signature). In the process of scrambling to get this form signed a few days before the holiday, the realtor somehow managed to piss off one of the units so badly that they refused to sign the form. He also tipped off SMTT that the house was about to be sold and she declined to sign the form. Our lawyer, the one we were paying to help us with events such as these, promptly vanished. We actually never heard from him again, except when he sent one of his minions to the closing to notarize documents.

After days of panicking and feeling completely disempowered and getting no sleep whatsoever, we finally consulted a lawyer friend, without whom I don't think the sale would have gone through. He helped us understand our rights in the situation and suggested how we could move forward, and on Sunday night we finally got the signature we needed. At the closing on Monday, the lawyer and realtor dropped the ball again and so the sale wasn't legally on record until Tuesday morning. But it's done. Closed. We deposited our check and handed over our keys. Our relationship with that condo is over.

Yet for some reason I don't feel closure. I am still grappling with so much anger, frustration, and resentment over what happened and these are feelings that I don't particularly want to be feeling. I want to be letting go and cleansing myself of all the negativity that we experienced since October. I am trying to focus on our new place, which we LOVE, how happy we are here, and how we can now focus on preparing for the bean. But mentally I'm still putting nails in SMTT's tires and upbraiding the realtor and the lawyer. I need a ritual or something to put this behind me--any suggestions?

Merry Christmas!

For real! Our first Christmas with our own tree, our last as nonparents. So goddamn it, we are happy! Life is good!

A fuzzy tree shot with a curious Griffin looking for ribbons to eat:



A scrubby me, wearing one of Lunchboy's shirts because at 33/34 weeks my shirts no longer cover my belly:




That's part of the new living room, as you probably guessed. I've been unmotivated to take pictures lately but I'm working on that.

Happy holidays

I kind of had a feeling something like this would happen. We moved, we signed the P&S on our condo over a month ago, and we have less than a week until the closing. I knew that SMTT was dying to know what was up with our unit because she was pestering our condo president for information that no one was giving her. Still, there was a voice in the back of my head that said, "She's not going to let you out without a fight." But did I expect her to try and block the sale of our condo, on Christmas Eve no less? No. And yet, she is. I don't even know what to say or do. We have our realtor on the phone with the lawyer trying to figure it out.

Update

We've been in the new place for a week now and, with only 3 boxes left to unpack, we're feeling pretty settled. The cats agree--we really thought they would freak out at all the change that's occurred in the last week but with the exception of some momentary episodes of fear/hiding/messing up the bathmats, they are relaxed and seem happier now than they ever did in the old place. I guess they were picking up on all the weird energy there, too.

Friday was a bit scary for me. After only having a handful of Braxton-Hicks contractions over the past 6 months, I started having them that afternoon around 2pm and they kept coming every 5-15 minutes. By 11pm that night I was really uncomfortable and starting to get worried. I just didn't want her to come too early. Or during a blizzard--I could just see the stories for years to come--but though the doctor was concerned, I felt like all I needed was a good night's sleep, so we stayed home. The next morning I felt much better but noticed that the bebe was sitting much lower than she had been the previous day. Little feet that were once kicking off my ribs all day are now down around my belly button. I've had a series of dreams in which people tell me that she'll arrive before the end of January and I wonder if the dreams might be prophetic.

Saturday was a big day for us. We took our infant CPR class and then picked out our very first Christmas tree. The past three years we have gone to Florida for the holidays and we had neither the room for a tree nor the inclination to leave the cats alone with a tree for a week, so we simply enjoyed Lunchboy's mom's tree. This year, however, the year that we start our own family, we got our own tree and decorated it while the snow was falling heavily outside. Some of the ornaments were early childhood toys that were repurposed by my parents and passed down. It was really lovely. Amusingly, the cats seem less interested in the tree than they are in the ribbons on the gifts under the tree, but it was very cute to watch them be so fascinated with the strings of lights. Then Lunchboy went upstairs and put together the bean's crib. I stayed out of the way (there was crashing, swearing, and at least one beer involved) but when he was done it looked amazing.

Otherwise, though, I feel tired but good. Walking for 30 minutes feels me feel like I've done a 10-mile run, which is amusing and frustrating, so I am definitely slowing down. Winter, it seems, is a good time for that, though. There's nothing like a 3-day snowstorm for napping and avoiding the gym. The part that really makes me giggle is that for the first time ever, I'm not freezing my tuckus off despite the arctic temps. Incubating really does make you a walking space heater. I'll be walking home from the T and everyone else is all bundled up and I'm like, "Wusses! It's not that cold! I'm not even wearing a hat!" Then I go home and kick the covers off the bed all night because I'm too hot for the down comforter. Lunchboy is like, who are you and what have you done with my wife, whose feet are usually at zero degrees Kelvin this time of year?

Speechless

At the risk of being crass, I hope this doesn’t portend some entrepreneur coming out with baby-shaped dildos.

Moved!

We are in the new place! I don't even care that yesterday was a really long day. I don't care that we're surrounded by boxes. We lay in bed last night and it was *quiet* No stomping. No bad vibes. No feeling trapped. Just quiet and a deep sense of peace.

We'll be unpacking for a while but I'll try to take some pictures soon, especially of the bean's room. There's not much to see right now except a crib in a box (want to make a JT joke but am failing) and some stuffed animals, but it's THERE and it's sunny and ready to be prepared.

The bean seems to approve. She got the hiccups at 3am and has been super active, though that might be because I have a really hard time not lifting things when they need to be moved. It's bad, I know, but I have a hard time slowing down. Even the cable guy told me to stop but what can I say, I'm stubborn.

The cats are in heaven. After a brief freakout when they got to the new place yesterday, Scully and Cringer are busily exploring and staking out new napping spots. Griffin is still a little wary but came out of her shell for some roaster chicken last night. Territory issues begin...NOW.

A beautiful day in the neighborhood

Things I would rather not have going on in the 'ville include this.

I, along with other lady friends in the Union Square area, walk alone at night all the time, so having a robber/attacker in the area who is preying on women walking alone at night is unsettling. Why are we so unsavvy as to walk alone at night, you might ask? It's called commuting. Here's hoping the Somerville police catch this winner ASAP so we can all resume going to and from work without having to fear for our health and safety.

On a more positive note, this could be the perfect holiday gift for about 90% of the people on my gift list.

Steady as she goes

In the midst of packing mania this weekend, we took a break and went to our Prepared Childbirth class at the hospital where I'm delivering. Eight hours later, we emerged more informed and with a look of something resembling mild panic on our faces. I pretty much knew before the class that I wanted to have pain medication during labor but after watching the labor videos during the class my mind is now very firmly made up on the pro-drugs side of the argument. Also, during the part of the class when we toured the labor, delivery, and postpartum wards, the class was presented with a baby that had been born the day before. It was beautiful and pink and clearly brand new…and it weighed in at 12lbs. Want to freak the shizz out of a childbirth class? Present a bunch of soon-to-be-parents with a gigantic child. Even the husbands were like, "You'll TELL us if that's going to happen, right? RIGHT?????" Meanwhile, we moms were huddled in a group in the corner, rubbing our bellies and crossing our legs.

We move into the new place a week from today and boy can we not wait. We picked up the keys over the weekend and have been bringing over carloads of stuff because even though we hired movers for the actual we move, we are that impatient. Also, I don't think either of us can quite get over the amazement of realizing that this beautiful, new space? It's actually ours.

Did I mention that there's a perfect, nursery-sized room located right off the new master bedroom and it's already painted a lovely, sunny yellow? Or that there is a master bath (!!) and it contains a tub deep enough for the water to actually cover my belly?

Another event that is adding to our happiness is that we got news this weekend that a couple of great friends who had been waiting for their adoption referral got their baby on Saturday!! We could not be happier for them--they are already amazing parents, especially given that they had like 36 hours notice to prepare for their new daughter. Hearing their news felt like witnessing a true holiday miracle. Huzzah!!!!