Babies on the brain: the back story

Dear lovely readers,

I wrote a post. This post, in fact. I wrote it in October of 2010, a year and half ago. And then . . . I sat on it. I was nervous about being this vulnerable and sharing these things that were so close to my heart. I was afraid to make public these feelings that may not be “right” but that were happening anyway. But now that we’ve embarked on the pregnancy journey, I wanted to resurrect this draft and show you what I was thinking a year and a half ago about babies. I love seeing the journey my heart has made, guided by the gentle hand of God, and I hope you enjoy it too!

Love,

The New Mama

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10.18.2010

During our 4 years of dating prior to our 5 years of marriage, my husband and I weren’t convinced we ever wanted to have kids. When I was growing up, I was never the little girl that dreamed of being a mom, and he wasn’t sure he could be a good enough dad. We didn’t talk about it a ton, but the idea was that we would keep enjoying ourselves, loving each other as much as possible, and see what happened–with no pressure to start a family. As the years of marriage slipped by, I started realizing more and more that someday I might want a family. My husband didn’t yet feel that way. If I started a sentence with “When we have kids . . . ” he would interject “If we have kids–if we have kids.” Not in a snarky way, but just clarifying that the choice was ours . . . and that he wasn’t all too convinced that was what he wanted.

I knew this wasn’t something about which I could ever change his mind, and it definitely wasn’t something I wanted to argue about, so I started praying. For years, I have been praying something along the lines of “God, if your desire is for us to have a family, change our desires so they’re in line with yours. I want both of our hearts to be on the same page as yours, and with each other. If we are supposed to have kids someday, I need both me and my husband to want it. This can’t be a place of discord, God; we need unity of purpose.”

And gradually, conversation by conversation, through our year of marriage in Bloomington, our three years in Delaware, and the past year in Chicago, I saw that my husband was starting to want a family.

This past summer during Family Vacay 2010, we hopped in kayaks and took a spin on the lake for a couple hours to do a review of the year: the highs and lows, what we had learned, what we hoped for the next year. And there, in the middle of the lake in the North Woods of Wisconsin, for the first time, he said: “I definitely want a family.” The idea was, not right now–but for sure. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

I immediately started crying. “I want a family, too,” I said. A joy flooded my soul as I realized that through his faithful, patient work, God had answered my prayer and brought our hearts to the same place.

Maybe it’s typical for mid-to-late twenty-something girls to start thinking along this line. To start desiring a small creature with little limbs. Someone tiny whom you will snuggle, teach, chastise, hug. I think God has put this desire in most women–not all, but certainly a lot of us. The Bible talks about children as a blessing. We are spoken of as adopted sons and daughters of God the Father. Jesus is our brother. Clearly, family is important to God. Clearly, the earthly family is supposed to teach us something about the heavenly family. Maybe there are lessons I need to learn that are unique to having children. I know they will be a tool of sanctification (refining my patience, increasing my selflessness, etc.), but I think they will also bring me to a deeper understanding of my heavenly Father and the nature of my relationship with him.

Here’s the thing–we’ve enjoyed our 5 childless years of marriage so much! It’s just . . . fun. Every night when we go to bed, it’s like a sleepover. We can be spontaneous, hop on a bus and go downtown if we feel like it. Make last-minute dinner plans with friends. We can pack light. We are both happy and peaceful and so content with our life, and a little voice in my head keeps asking me: why would you jeopardize that? Why would you willingly put an end to a phase you’re still enjoying so much? It’s like eating a delicious dessert, and willingly stopping when you’re only halfway done even though you’re still ravenous.

But . . . BUT. I’ve been praying. At another key moment during Family Vacay 2010, one evening I was kayaking on the lake with my aunt and cousin. (Why do deep revelations seem to happen while I’m in a kayak?) We watched the sun sink behind the tree line. The lake was as smooth as a mirror, and we could see the moon getting brighter and brighter in the East. I paddled off by myself for a while and just watched the sky. It was ablaze in color–dark blue where the moon was, fading to a lighter blue, then a blushing pink, and then a swath of brilliant, golden yellow. As I soaked in the beauty, I prayed “God, I sense you want us to have kids someday. You’ve brought us both to a place where we know we want that in the future. But you also know that in my heart, I’m reluctant to move on from where I am now. I’m so happy! You’ve given me such a great husband, and I’m having so much fun with him that I don’t want to ‘mess that up’ with the challenges I know kids will bring. If you want me to have kids, I need some wisdom from you. I need you to give me the conviction that it’s OK to leave behind this awesome phase and move onto a more challenging one. That it’s OK to lay aside the kind of fun we’re having now and accept something I sense will be harder than anything we’ve ever faced.”

I breathed deeply and gazed at the sky.

Suddenly, it was like God spoke into my heart. “Look at the sky,” he seemed to be whispering, “See the three colors? The deep blue to the West, the pink, and then the golden hue in the East. Isn’t it perfect?”

“Yes, it’s perfect,” I thought.

“Well,” God seemed to say, “what if it were all blue? Or all pink? Wouldn’t it lose some of its beauty? Isn’t it glorious because there are three different beautiful colors all combined into an even more beautiful whole?”

And then I saw! I am in the blue phase right now. It’s gorgeous–but at the end of my life, do I just want to have a blue sky? No, I want all the colors God has in store for my life. I can leave behind the blue and move into the pink. Each color is adding beauty to the canvas of my life. They are all different, and all necessary to the final work of art.

So even though I love the blue phase, I can leave it behind and embrace new challenges because there is beauty in each different part of life. Will it be harder? Maybe. But it will be worth it somehow.

Regardless of my mental understanding of this, my emotions still swing back and forth between exhiliration and dread. I see a few moms at a playground watching their toddlers run here and there. They seem peaceful, content. They have cute ponytails. I think “I could do that. I could have a morning excursion to the playground while the air is brisk, and then head home and make a PB&J sandwich for my small one before they settle down for their afternoon nap time.” And diapers–hey, I worked as a nurse’s aide in a nursing home. Diapers on a baby should not scare me in the least after what I have seen and done and smelled with people in the opposite spectrum of life.

But then I see a tired mom with 3 or 4 kids get on the bus I’m riding to work with her big, awkward stroller. I see the dirty looks the other bus riders give her when they have to move to make room for her entourage, and when her baby starts screaming and two other kids start fighting. She yells “shut up!” to her 3 or 4-year olds, and then calls someone on her cellphone. She’s loud, she’s cussing. She sounds frustrated. She looks tired, angry, and I don’t like how she’s treating her kids. “Will being a mom turn me into a monster?” I think. I know the evil inside me–and it feels dangerous.

I see a mom with a newborn strapped to her torso with one of those fabric thingies that crisscross on your back. I see the tender looks she casts at the sleeping face. I see the careful way she arranges the blanket over the baby’s body to make sure he or she is nice and warm. She looks happy, peaceful. Content. Maybe she’s going to meet a friend for coffee. Or maybe she’s going to do some shopping. But this baby at her chest is right at the center of who she is right now, of what she’s all about. And it’s a beautiful thing.

Then I see a Mom pushing a stroller down the sidewalk as I head into work. The Mom in question is in her sweatpants and looks depressed. Maybe she’s just sleepy . . . but being who I am, I of course construct a whole story around who she is, why she’s so sad, and how alone she feels by herself in the house with this baby, and I start pushing against these imaginary walls of baby-dom crying “No! I don’t want to feel alone! I don’t want to be trapped in baby world!”

Maybe next year I’ll feel ready.

Is this normal? This back and forth? This consuming desire, and then this fear and resistance?

These are the times that I wonder about birth control. Yes, it’s given women more power over their bodies, and more opportunities. No, I wouldn’t have wanted to have a baby right at 22 when I got married. I am grateful for role the pill has played in my life. It’s made that time of month less painful and more regular. It’s allowed us to have 5 fabulous years of marriage getting to know each other, learning how to live together harmoniously without anyone else in the picture. But then I think about how much easier it would be if it just happened when it happened. If the decision weren’t mine, it would almost be . . . easier to accept. Liberating, in a way. I keep secretely hoping that I’ll get a surprise baby. Even after the pill has worked its magic so effectively for 5 years, I feel hopeful about being part of the 0.01% margin of error.

And I just want to add (since I know this can be quite the hot topic): I’m not taking a political stance on birth control . . . or a religious stance . . . or any stance at all. I’m just saying that as someone who has taken the pill for 5 years and had a great experience with it, I still have moments of questioning. Of hoping that this month . . . it will fail.

Right or wrong or neither, these are my emotions.

I don’t know what God has in store exactly. Maybe we won’t be able to have kids. Maybe we’ll be called to foster care, or to adopt. Or something so unexpected I can’t even imagine it now. Maybe there will be miscarriages, infertility. Maybe twins, or triplets. I don’t pretend to know what the future holds. All I can say is that my heart is a work in progress. I’m learning about the beauty of family. I’m learning about God’s patient work in our hearts, and his kindness to me and my husband as he guides us through this emotional process.

Thank you all for reading . . . it wasn’t my ‘usual fare,’ but it felt good to express all this. To verbalize these thoughts that have been with me for so long. I’m sure some of you have words of wisdom . . . or perhaps similar struggles. I love you guys–and I always love to hear your comments and thoughts.

17 Weeks

How far along: Week 17 completed on May 1st. According to “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” that means I am done with month 4. Month 5, here I come baby!

Weight gain: Zero! Not what I was expecting. And I’m not thrilled about this either, as the picture below may lead you to believe:

In fact, that was the mad smile of someone who was feeling completely deranged at the time (more on that shortly).

However, as the midwife said, “don’t worry, you have plenty of time.” And it’s been hitting me–pregnancy is a looooong journey. I’ve been pregnant since January, and I’m still 3 full weeks from being halfway there. And nobody who looks at me could even tell there’s a baby in there at this point. It’s a little crazy.

Clothes: I actually returned to wearing some of my skinny pants this week. My stomach has become much less sensitive, and for this I am soooo grateful. Thank you, stomach.

Purchases: No baby-related purchases! But you all know by now what is seriously right around the corner (next week!), so beware . . .

Body: Less bloating and discomfort–it’s truly fab. I can lie on my stomach at night comfortably, and I’m not constantly thinking about my belly.

On the weirder side, I am still experiencing the no-belly-in-the-morning-but-big-belly-at-night thing, which is a little strange. Even my husband gave me a look of utter confusion when one minute my stomach looked completely flat (I was lying down and tensing my abs) and the next (when I sat up and leaned over) it was a huge round globe. “What . . . what is going on there?” he asked, perplexed.

I only wish I had answers, baby. This same question plagues me daily.

I also had a really hard time during yoga on Monday–which is weird, because it wasn’t a particularly hard class compared to the past couple weeks. I have my suspicions as to why I was having difficulties: I hear there’s a hormone called ‘relaxin’ which loosens the joints during pregnancy. We were doing a lot of fast-moving stretches from side to side, up and down and all around, and I just couldn’t seem to move as fast or as comfortably as I normally do. I think that relaxin stuff has made my joints less ‘stable’ and less able to support those quick movements between stretches. I was embarrassed by my own amount of huffing and puffing.

Sleep: It’s mahvellous, dahling. I’m still falling asleep quickly, sleeping great, and (as I mentioned) able to sleep on my stomach. Though in the news this week: I managed to stay awake for an entire story of Sherlock Holmes! My husband was amazed. “Are you still awake?” he asked in wonder at the end of the story, looking at my supine (and seemingly passed out) form. “Yes!” I exclaimed, popping up from my pillow.

What can I say–the story of the hydraulics engineer who almost got murdered by an evil mechanical pressing device was riveting. So my husband decided to start the next story since I appeared to be fully awake, and guess what–I don’t remember a thing about it. Not the cast of characters, not the opening sentence, not the premise of the crime-solving-to-come–nada. Sleep hit me like a sledgehammer, so hard and fast I didn’t even feel it.

Best moment(s) of the week: Hearing that heartbeat at my appointment! For about 10 seconds the midwife couldn’t find it and the worst case scenario flashed through my brain, but it turns out that it’s because I was clenching my abs in an effort to curl my head up and watch what she was doing. “Just lie back and relax,” she said, and immediately we found it. Strong, fast, and steady.

Movement: A little, I think–when I went to bed Sunday night, I felt that feeling that some people describe as popcorn popping. But it’s not a regular occurrence . . . yet.

Food cravings/aversions: I only had fries once! It seems like I’m getting that part of my life back under control. And I also looked Thai noodles in the face and survived to tell the tale–not only survived, but enjoyed every bite (especially that nicely browned tofu). Looks like Pad Thai is back on the menu, baby. Next week maybe I’ll try to gauge my stomach’s feelings on fried eggs . . .

Symptoms: The midwife went over my blood/urine test results from last month, and apparently all is good except for the old Vitamin D. So I’ll be picking up a prescription and wolfing that stuff down asap since apparently a Vitamin D deficiency somehow increases your chances of having a C-section. As for the rest of it, I’m generally feeling great.

Now–isn’t my skin supposed to start glowing soon?? And where’s this shiny hair I keep hearing about?

Emotions: I’ve been really emotional this week, starting Sunday at church, but I chalked it up to the normal ebb and flow of the female heart. However, the past two days I have been insanely emotional and insanely sensitive. No more “normal ebb and flow” explanations even start to make sense of what I’ve been feeling.

I shall now elaborate:

After 2 1/2 years in the big city (and growing up in the city!), you’d think I’d have a thick skin by now. But after watching how people pushed ahead of a lady with the stroller to get on the Belmont bus, proceeding to occupy the seats that fold up (where she could have put her stroller) as quickly as possible, I had an internal meltdown. Which–as soon as I got home–externalized itself into a regular old cryfest. “Why are people so meeeaaaaan,” I wailed. “Nobody cares about anybody else!” At that moment, friends, I despised Chicago. Humanity depressed me. I wanted out of the whole deal, and I wanted out fast.

Then I realized that we had to take some pictures of my belly for this post. I pressed the camera into my husband’s hands and figured that after our photographic challenges of the previous week, this little session was bound to be waaaay easier. “This is going to go so fast!” I assured him with great optimism.

I was wrong.

After scrolling through about a dozen pictures, all of which featured my blurry mug looking blurrier than ever, I faced the facts: my husband was having some serious challenges focusing the camera. And these challenges didn’t seem to be going away. He practiced focusing on my hand . . .

. . . it just wasn’t happening.

I turned the camera on myself and showed him how easy it can be to focus:

Then I turned the camera on him . . .

(and you can see here that his blessed, blessed sense of humor was still going strong)

. . . and back on myself.

“See?” I said, “just press halfway down on the shutter release, hold the focus/exposure lock down with your thumb, reframe the picture, and it’s so easy!”

We now think that maybe it’s because of his glasses. He has really poor eyesight, so he can’t press his actual eye up to the viewfinder, and it’s quite likely that that’s really hurting his chances of seeing what’s going on in the little black box.

But regardless of his goodwill, it was still a painful experience for me (in which I felt like a failure as a teacher since I couldn’t figure out how to help him, a nagging autocrat, an obsessed maniac since I couldn’t just let it go and post a blurry picture, a demanding jerk of fascist proportions, and a number of other unpleasant things) and this sent me into another avalanche of emotions and tears.

Then I checked my email and broke down into tears again over a quite normal series of messages attempting to schedule a music rehearsal for Wednesday. When these plans started to shift yesterday afternoon, I had another crying breakdown at my desk at work. Which went on for about an hour.

What the heck is going on in here???? Why does everything feel like the end of the world? It’s not pretty, and if I were you . . . I’d keep my distance from the crazy crying lady with the insane smile.

Hopes and dreams: Sometimes I’ll be sitting on the couch or in bed with my husband, and suddenly I’ll think “in a few months we’ll be sitting on this same couch–but with a little baby between us.” My heart skips a beat and I get a rush of hormones/adrenaline/whoknowswhat that gives me the tinglies in my belly.

I also had a really, really sad dream Monday night that my dad died before the baby was born. I kept thinking “Dad will never get to hold his little grandbaby. We got so close . . . but now it won’t happen.” Saddest dream ever. I don’t know what it is about grandpas holding their tiny grandbabies, but it gets me like a punch in the heart.

What I miss: Being able to keep it together emotionally. I don’t remember the last time I cried so much over completely normal, daily things.

What I’m looking forward to: Finding out the gender at my next appointment, on Wednesday May 23rd.

Husband update:  I love this man.

We were walking to the El last Wednesday morning, and I was kind of dragging my feet. I just felt tired, like I didn’t have enough energy–emotional or physical–to face the day. “Well,” he said, “you know you’re burning more calories resting than a guy burns working out at the gym. Making that baby is taking a lot of energy.” He had read this in “What to Expect When You’re Expecting” the previous evening. I coulda kissed him right there.

And he’s making such an effort with this photography thing–resulting (by the end of our little session) in a perfectly focused picture of my face!!

Great job, baby. And thanks for loving this nagging autocrat despite my nagging autocratic ways (at least when it comes to photography).

For next week, I’m hoping for normal emotional reactions to normal daily events. We’ll see . . .

Have a great weekend, friends!