I've been writing here in anonymity for a couple of months. I started my blog simply to keep a record of what was happening and to give myself a place to blurt it all out.
For some reason the format of a blog – of hitting publish and seeing the text live – gives me a sense of finality and relief. I lived it. I wrote it. I posted it. Done. Plus, it's easier to read and more focused than journaling in a spiral notebook, which I have done off-and-on my whole life – and it doesn't take up any closet space. (My husband does not understand why I insist on keeping boxes of old journals and files full of old writing, but I simply can't let them go.)
Last week, in a moment of optimism and open-heartedness I decided to share my blog by posting the link on Facebook. The moment I did it, I felt terrified and like I might have to lie down. Was it too much? Did I want people I went to high school with and people I work with to read my musings? Was it too embarrassing or too raw? I was so nervous, but I took a breath and let it go.
About five hours later, I went back to Facebook to see if anyone had noticed my post – and I got wonderful, supportive reactions. In fact, I continue to get encouraging comments.
I don't know if anyone will come back to look at the blog again, but I'm grateful for the support I've gotten so far.
I think this motherhood thing is really going to force me to reach out, to ask for help, to expose my vulnerable side more than I'm used to. It's a great feeling to know that when I reach out, there are some people willing to reach back.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Hiccups and Gas and Cramps, Oh My….
Pregnancy is full of a lot of unfamiliar aches and pains – and it seems that the line between what's normal and what's life-threatening is disturbingly thin.
Yesterday, after Floatie B (the big one) got hiccups for the fifth time in a day, Matt looked it up. Yes, most valid pregnancy web sites stated that fetal hiccups are totally normal, nothing to worry about. But some of the comments on these sites -- comments from random, non-medical people on the Internet -- claim that too much hiccupping can mean a baby is gasping for breath and perhaps sitting on its own umbilical cord.
Normally, I have a good bullshit meter. But on top of the Baby B hiccups, I was experiencing cramping in the lower right side of my uterus. Or maybe it was just gas. Or it was both. As everyone knows, it's really hard to differentiate between gas and cramps.
Anyway, it was starting to get dark. I was hungry. I was thinking about the fact that my OB is going on vacation for five days next week. Suddenly I was afraid that those Internet comments were right. Floatie B was slowly strangling himself in my womb and I would soon be faced with the worst nightmare any expectant mom could have.
"Matt," I yelled. "I need my phone. I have to call the doctor." As I was dialing, I looked at my husband and asked, "Do you think I'm crazy?" More than almost anything, I hate the idea of being one of those paranoid, annoying moms. But Matt looked scared too. We'd both let the Internet comments get to us and wanted to be safe instead of sorry.
Before I knew it, my doctor was on the line and I told her everything that was happening. She assured me, "there is no such thing as too many hiccups" for a baby in utero. "Hiccups," she said, "are one of the most reassuring signs of a healthy baby."
I hung up. I cried from relief. And then I started to worry about why Foatie A has not had the hiccups yet.
Yesterday, after Floatie B (the big one) got hiccups for the fifth time in a day, Matt looked it up. Yes, most valid pregnancy web sites stated that fetal hiccups are totally normal, nothing to worry about. But some of the comments on these sites -- comments from random, non-medical people on the Internet -- claim that too much hiccupping can mean a baby is gasping for breath and perhaps sitting on its own umbilical cord.
Normally, I have a good bullshit meter. But on top of the Baby B hiccups, I was experiencing cramping in the lower right side of my uterus. Or maybe it was just gas. Or it was both. As everyone knows, it's really hard to differentiate between gas and cramps.
Anyway, it was starting to get dark. I was hungry. I was thinking about the fact that my OB is going on vacation for five days next week. Suddenly I was afraid that those Internet comments were right. Floatie B was slowly strangling himself in my womb and I would soon be faced with the worst nightmare any expectant mom could have.
"Matt," I yelled. "I need my phone. I have to call the doctor." As I was dialing, I looked at my husband and asked, "Do you think I'm crazy?" More than almost anything, I hate the idea of being one of those paranoid, annoying moms. But Matt looked scared too. We'd both let the Internet comments get to us and wanted to be safe instead of sorry.
Before I knew it, my doctor was on the line and I told her everything that was happening. She assured me, "there is no such thing as too many hiccups" for a baby in utero. "Hiccups," she said, "are one of the most reassuring signs of a healthy baby."
I hung up. I cried from relief. And then I started to worry about why Foatie A has not had the hiccups yet.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Working Girl
I have worked since I was 12 years old.
I started earning money with odd jobs -- babysitting, watering flowers for neighbors, sweeping up fall leaves for family friends. In high school, I filed papers and ran errands for a doctor's office where my aunt was a nurse one summer. When my mother opened a clothing store called The Creative Edge when I was a sophomore, I worked there. I spent two summers as an usher working 6 days a week at the Cirque du Soleil in San Francisco. With the money I made, I bought my first car.
In college, I was on a work-study program and held down a job in addition to my classes. When I moved to New York, I took the first job I could get and never looked back.
I have not had more than two weeks off since 1994 -– until now. As of two days ago, I stopped working. I'm just home. On bed rest. All the time.
For me, not doing a job brings on a strange feeling of weightlessness like floating underwater. It's quiet and slow and my body moves with the currents of the day.
I feel like I should be accomplishing life's list of things to do –- everything from writing my memoirs to finishing our wedding album and sewing the button eyes securely onto Matt's childhood teddy bear that's on display in the floaties' room -– but somehow the hours go by and those things don't get done.
I worry that too much not working will make me feel unmoored, mentally and physically adrift, maybe even depressed. So far, though, I'm okay. It's been a whole day and half and I haven't gone completely mad. We'll see how long that lasts. Tick tock.
I started earning money with odd jobs -- babysitting, watering flowers for neighbors, sweeping up fall leaves for family friends. In high school, I filed papers and ran errands for a doctor's office where my aunt was a nurse one summer. When my mother opened a clothing store called The Creative Edge when I was a sophomore, I worked there. I spent two summers as an usher working 6 days a week at the Cirque du Soleil in San Francisco. With the money I made, I bought my first car.
In college, I was on a work-study program and held down a job in addition to my classes. When I moved to New York, I took the first job I could get and never looked back.
I have not had more than two weeks off since 1994 -– until now. As of two days ago, I stopped working. I'm just home. On bed rest. All the time.
For me, not doing a job brings on a strange feeling of weightlessness like floating underwater. It's quiet and slow and my body moves with the currents of the day.
I feel like I should be accomplishing life's list of things to do –- everything from writing my memoirs to finishing our wedding album and sewing the button eyes securely onto Matt's childhood teddy bear that's on display in the floaties' room -– but somehow the hours go by and those things don't get done.
I worry that too much not working will make me feel unmoored, mentally and physically adrift, maybe even depressed. So far, though, I'm okay. It's been a whole day and half and I haven't gone completely mad. We'll see how long that lasts. Tick tock.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
A Reprieve
Yesterday was not the day. I had my go-bag packed and in the trunk of the car. I had friends, family and coworkers on high alert. I think even the floaties were nervous going to the doctor's office. But Dr. S looked at me and said, "Well, you're 32 weeks along. And you know what, you're going to stay pregnant a little longer."
So we – me, Matt and the floaties -- have earned a reprieve. Dr. S even said he thinks I'll make it to 34 weeks. I am amazed. He seems amazed. Our families are amazed.
"You've passed the scary part of the pregnancy," Dr. S added.
Slowly, I am taking my finger off the panic button.
Monday, May 30, 2011
The Final Countdown
Tomorrow could be the day.
For the last couple weeks, I've been complaining about being uncomfortable. My belly is so heavy. The babies move around in opposite directions, pulling my uterus into circus-freak-like shapes. Matt stares at my belly with a mix of horror and amazement. I have to pee all the time. I'm exhausted by the end of every day.
So, one would think we should be totally ready for these floaties to come. And we are – sort of. But I'm also freaked out. I've become accustomed to my very quiet, peaceful, solitary days. For the first time in years – years! -- I have time to think and read and imagine. There's time to take a step back and look at my life, to consider where I might go in the future, to think about my career, my hopes and aspirations. Normal, everyday life leaves little room for this kind of considered contemplation.
But soon, I can kiss all that goodbye. In two days, I could very well be cross-eyed with sleep deprivation and reeling from hormonal upheaval, weeping and whimpering from a host of emotional and physical issues. I'll be taking care of two babies, even if they are in the NICU. I'll be healing from major surgery. Matt and I will go from being a couple with no real obligations, aside from a mortgage, to parents responsible for two other lives. As Matt puts it, we could be sent to jail if we say, forget to feed the babies for a couple days. Suddenly our lives will not just be ours anymore.
All this hangs in the balance, depending on what Dr. S finds tomorrow afternoon. Is floatie A still growing? Is he getting enough blood-flow? How are their heartbeats? The answers to these questions will determine whether we are granted another week of quiet or we go hurtling into our future.
For the last couple weeks, I've been complaining about being uncomfortable. My belly is so heavy. The babies move around in opposite directions, pulling my uterus into circus-freak-like shapes. Matt stares at my belly with a mix of horror and amazement. I have to pee all the time. I'm exhausted by the end of every day.
So, one would think we should be totally ready for these floaties to come. And we are – sort of. But I'm also freaked out. I've become accustomed to my very quiet, peaceful, solitary days. For the first time in years – years! -- I have time to think and read and imagine. There's time to take a step back and look at my life, to consider where I might go in the future, to think about my career, my hopes and aspirations. Normal, everyday life leaves little room for this kind of considered contemplation.
But soon, I can kiss all that goodbye. In two days, I could very well be cross-eyed with sleep deprivation and reeling from hormonal upheaval, weeping and whimpering from a host of emotional and physical issues. I'll be taking care of two babies, even if they are in the NICU. I'll be healing from major surgery. Matt and I will go from being a couple with no real obligations, aside from a mortgage, to parents responsible for two other lives. As Matt puts it, we could be sent to jail if we say, forget to feed the babies for a couple days. Suddenly our lives will not just be ours anymore.
All this hangs in the balance, depending on what Dr. S finds tomorrow afternoon. Is floatie A still growing? Is he getting enough blood-flow? How are their heartbeats? The answers to these questions will determine whether we are granted another week of quiet or we go hurtling into our future.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Coming Together
When the question was "to shower or not to shower?" I took the path of least resistance, which was to go ahead with the baby shower. And I'm so glad I did.
It was the first time I'd ever brought together all the various people I know in L.A. I mean, not literally all of them, but I had coworkers, college friends, new friends and even my parents here at our house. And the beauty of it was that they all had a blast. I love introducing people I love to each other, watching them meet and make that connection where they go, 'Hey, I like you – you're cool.'
I probably exerted myself more than I should have –- it was certainly more activity than I'd had in weeks -- but being surrounded by all that good energy was worth it. And I think everyone felt grateful to share a happy, sunny, fun-filled Sunday afternoon.
Now I'm back to my solitary ways with Matt and just the sounds of the neighborhood outside to keep me company. And I'm trying to be at peace with the solitude 'cause it's not going to last much longer.
I suddenly feel the truly imminent arrival of these two floaties and how utterly life-changing that will be. Even now, the idea of it is totally white-knuckle, gut wrenchingly scary. So I try not to think too much ahead or worry about things that may or may not come to pass. They're coming and when they get here, Matt and I will do our very best for them.
Monday, May 16, 2011
Go Team Floaties!
The little guys and I had our 30-week appointment today. Our fetal specialist, Dr. S, tilted his head and squinted several times as if he were slightly perplexed -- or possibly totally panicked -- as he took the babies' measurements. At one point, he urgently scooted his rolling chair across the room to consult my chart. He made my heart palpitate with worry.
And then he pronounced the babies fine.
Floatie A (i.e. the little one) grew by about 6 oz., over the last two weeks, while Floatie B shot up a full pound, to a whooping 3 lbs., 6 oz.
But the fact that they are both still growing is the headline here. The little guy is going to be smaller when he's born, but he's chugging along, gaining weight, keeping up his blood flow and moving around like crazy. Believe me, they are both ACTIVE little dudes.
Dr. S, who has in the past delivered terrifying news, actually told me he's "very happy" with my progress. Wooot!
My goal has been to get the babies to 32 weeks. Not to jump the gun, but the often-pessimistic Dr. S says he thinks we'll get there. We might not surpass it by much, but we're running toward that line with all our might.
xoxo
And then he pronounced the babies fine.
Floatie A (i.e. the little one) grew by about 6 oz., over the last two weeks, while Floatie B shot up a full pound, to a whooping 3 lbs., 6 oz.
But the fact that they are both still growing is the headline here. The little guy is going to be smaller when he's born, but he's chugging along, gaining weight, keeping up his blood flow and moving around like crazy. Believe me, they are both ACTIVE little dudes.
Dr. S, who has in the past delivered terrifying news, actually told me he's "very happy" with my progress. Wooot!
My goal has been to get the babies to 32 weeks. Not to jump the gun, but the often-pessimistic Dr. S says he thinks we'll get there. We might not surpass it by much, but we're running toward that line with all our might.
xoxo
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Week 29
I have made it to 29 weeks, another mini milestone. (Every week, every day is a milestone.)
About three weeks ago, I thought the floaties might not make it to 28 weeks. I was weepy and panicked and trying not to Google all the horrific things that could go wrong with such premature babies. Now, at 29 weeks I'm trying not to get cocky.
I keep reminding myself that 29 or even 30 weeks is still two months early. We want to keep the little guys in the cooker as long as possible. The closer they get to 38 weeks, the better. Still, having two straight weeks of good news from the docs is lulling me into a false sense of security. I can't really imagine the day -- which I know will come -- when the doctor says to me, "This is it. Today is the day you give birth." It will start like any other day, but end with me being cut open and having two babies in the NICU.
The weird thing is, I've gotten disturbingly comfortable with the idea of having premature babies. I've been told it's inevitable, so I've come to terms with it – sort of – at least until it actually happens, at which point I fully expect to freak out. I keep trying to find the "up side" of early babies: I'll have time to heal from my c-section; the babies will be getting excellent 24-hour care and monitoring; I'll have time to buy the stuff, like car seats, that I haven't gotten yet.
Also, I have been assuming the babies will be okay. And they probably will. But the fact remains that it's not ideal to be born premature. There are still lots of risks to my little guys. So while I think positively about the floaties and their health, I force myself to relax, rest, take a deep calming breath and drink another big gulp of water.
Go Team Floaties!
About three weeks ago, I thought the floaties might not make it to 28 weeks. I was weepy and panicked and trying not to Google all the horrific things that could go wrong with such premature babies. Now, at 29 weeks I'm trying not to get cocky.
I keep reminding myself that 29 or even 30 weeks is still two months early. We want to keep the little guys in the cooker as long as possible. The closer they get to 38 weeks, the better. Still, having two straight weeks of good news from the docs is lulling me into a false sense of security. I can't really imagine the day -- which I know will come -- when the doctor says to me, "This is it. Today is the day you give birth." It will start like any other day, but end with me being cut open and having two babies in the NICU.
The weird thing is, I've gotten disturbingly comfortable with the idea of having premature babies. I've been told it's inevitable, so I've come to terms with it – sort of – at least until it actually happens, at which point I fully expect to freak out. I keep trying to find the "up side" of early babies: I'll have time to heal from my c-section; the babies will be getting excellent 24-hour care and monitoring; I'll have time to buy the stuff, like car seats, that I haven't gotten yet.
Also, I have been assuming the babies will be okay. And they probably will. But the fact remains that it's not ideal to be born premature. There are still lots of risks to my little guys. So while I think positively about the floaties and their health, I force myself to relax, rest, take a deep calming breath and drink another big gulp of water.
Go Team Floaties!
Sunday, May 8, 2011
To Shower or Not to Shower?
I'm not referring to hygiene. I'm talking about a baby shower. I had one planned for last month in the Bay Area, but orders of bed rest put the kibosh on that. The shower went on with me, only requiring 10 minutes of Skype time from home. I was weirdly relieved not to go. I have gotten used to seeing few people, interacting over email and occasional phone calls. Suddenly, I'm nervous about the real life energy of people. Those pleasantries beamed over the Internet made me feel connected and loved while also preserving my solitary sensibilities
The next shower is supposed to happen at my house, so, if it happens, it will be difficult to avoid actual flesh and blood people – their hugs and smiles and energy pouring over me. And that freaks me out.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful. As I have mentioned, I have been bowled over by the love, understanding and affection directed at me over the last six months. It's truly humbling and eye-opening. I'd honestly forgotten how kind the world can be.
My fear is about whether I can physically and mentally make it through three hours and 20 people at my house. In some ways I've always been a person who craves attention and yet feels itchy and uncomfortable in its glare. I never had trouble getting on a stage or speaking in front of groups. But when the attention feels more personal, I sometimes panic. Growing up, I hated opening presents at my own birthday parties because I realized that the gift was as much about the giver as the receiver. The price of getting a present is making sure you have the right reaction to it, that you are appropriately effusive and grateful and gracious, and that you make sure the person who gave it to you feels good, too.
So when guests show up to my house bearing gifts and good intentions, I simply must rise to the occasion -- make sure I am the right mixture of happy hostess and honored guest, that I give back the effusive energy of those who've made time in their busy schedules for me. Which takes energy. I have become accustomed to not putting out much effort for others. My effort is reserved for the babies. My effort is to rest and remain calm. So can I (and the floaties) afford to have that attention diverted away from them and to 20-odd people? Am I up to the emotional and physical challenge of matching the energy of those well-meaning friends?
I'll ask my doctor first. He's good at saying "no" when it's the best answer. If he says it's up to me, I'll ask my husband, my friends, my mom and myself. And we will see.
The next shower is supposed to happen at my house, so, if it happens, it will be difficult to avoid actual flesh and blood people – their hugs and smiles and energy pouring over me. And that freaks me out.
I don't mean to sound ungrateful. As I have mentioned, I have been bowled over by the love, understanding and affection directed at me over the last six months. It's truly humbling and eye-opening. I'd honestly forgotten how kind the world can be.
My fear is about whether I can physically and mentally make it through three hours and 20 people at my house. In some ways I've always been a person who craves attention and yet feels itchy and uncomfortable in its glare. I never had trouble getting on a stage or speaking in front of groups. But when the attention feels more personal, I sometimes panic. Growing up, I hated opening presents at my own birthday parties because I realized that the gift was as much about the giver as the receiver. The price of getting a present is making sure you have the right reaction to it, that you are appropriately effusive and grateful and gracious, and that you make sure the person who gave it to you feels good, too.
So when guests show up to my house bearing gifts and good intentions, I simply must rise to the occasion -- make sure I am the right mixture of happy hostess and honored guest, that I give back the effusive energy of those who've made time in their busy schedules for me. Which takes energy. I have become accustomed to not putting out much effort for others. My effort is reserved for the babies. My effort is to rest and remain calm. So can I (and the floaties) afford to have that attention diverted away from them and to 20-odd people? Am I up to the emotional and physical challenge of matching the energy of those well-meaning friends?
I'll ask my doctor first. He's good at saying "no" when it's the best answer. If he says it's up to me, I'll ask my husband, my friends, my mom and myself. And we will see.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Achy Breaky Heart
The crazy thing about impending motherhood is that it seems to be cracking my heart open. I used to think of myself as an open book, but the years have hardened me. I'm easy to know on a surface level, but getting to the ooey gooey center takes lots of time and work.
But pregnancy changes that – by force. Or by hormones. Now I cry almost daily. Matt sees it coming on and takes a deep breath to get through whatever the tears are about – worry over our babies' health, the death of Osama bin Laden and the memories it evoked, a kind word in a card written by a friend.
The thing that's really squeezing my heart is the kindness I've received from old friends, new friends and strangers. A woman I've never met sent me a "virtual bouquet" after I posted a note on my twins group web board revealing my babies will likely spend time in the NICU. My girlfriends from high school -- many of whom I see only every couple of years – have showered me in the kind of deep love and understanding that comes from 25 years of friendship. My husband's uncle and a pal's mother-in-law added me, Matt and the babies to the list of people they're praying for in their prayer groups. Yesterday, I received a massive box of baby hand-me-down clothes from my old roommate in NYC and an edible bouquet from a friend in L.A.!
There seems to be this club of motherhood that I never knew about. Other women feel deeply and profoundly what I am going through, the bed rest, the uncertainty about my babies' health, the overwhelming fear, joy and raw emotion that comes like waves.
It makes me reflect on how cavalier I've always been about birth and babies and parenthood before. I loved to give a cute onesie or a stuffed animal to friends who were expecting, but beyond that I didn't have much insight or empathy.
I wonder as I go forward, will my heart remain vulnerable and open or will it close back up as life moves forward with the real-life challenges of parenthood?
But pregnancy changes that – by force. Or by hormones. Now I cry almost daily. Matt sees it coming on and takes a deep breath to get through whatever the tears are about – worry over our babies' health, the death of Osama bin Laden and the memories it evoked, a kind word in a card written by a friend.
The thing that's really squeezing my heart is the kindness I've received from old friends, new friends and strangers. A woman I've never met sent me a "virtual bouquet" after I posted a note on my twins group web board revealing my babies will likely spend time in the NICU. My girlfriends from high school -- many of whom I see only every couple of years – have showered me in the kind of deep love and understanding that comes from 25 years of friendship. My husband's uncle and a pal's mother-in-law added me, Matt and the babies to the list of people they're praying for in their prayer groups. Yesterday, I received a massive box of baby hand-me-down clothes from my old roommate in NYC and an edible bouquet from a friend in L.A.!
There seems to be this club of motherhood that I never knew about. Other women feel deeply and profoundly what I am going through, the bed rest, the uncertainty about my babies' health, the overwhelming fear, joy and raw emotion that comes like waves.
It makes me reflect on how cavalier I've always been about birth and babies and parenthood before. I loved to give a cute onesie or a stuffed animal to friends who were expecting, but beyond that I didn't have much insight or empathy.
I wonder as I go forward, will my heart remain vulnerable and open or will it close back up as life moves forward with the real-life challenges of parenthood?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)