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The other night was lonely for me. We moved the baby from the cradle in our room to her crib in her own room. Gary was up late working and monitoring the baby and I was by myself sleeping for the first time in months. It was an emergency move, precipitated by an unseasonable cold snap– our bedroom is the coldest spot in the house, and its temperature drops 10 degrees during the night even with the heat on, even with new insulation in the attic and a new double-paned window and thermal curtains. I missed propping myself up on my elbow to peek at her, and hearing her little sleep grunts and groans.

Other than my emotions, there’s not really any good reason to keep Abigail in our room. Dr. G’s alarm goes off five or six times when he needs to wake up. The poorly designed plumbing runs through the bedroom walls, making showers and toilet flushes abominably loud. She is a big baby and restless as she falls asleep or wakes, though she now sleeps most of the night. The cradle is the kind that rocks, and even though it is stabilized with pegs (and paper jammed around them), she rattles it with her wiggles and wakes herself up. She scoots up and bangs her head on the headboard, pulls down the bumper, and once got her leg stuck between the cradle’s slats, despite said bumper.

But moving her to another room means the end of one of my cherished rituals. After nursing Abigail in the wee hours of the morning, I stay up awhile longer to pump and catch up on an internet TV show. It is nice to be up alone in the house, with no one to watch or be watched by, no imminent happenings or chores to be done. Then it is even nicer to go back into the quiet room where my husband and baby are sleeping, listen to the long, peaceful breaths of one and the tiny, peaceful breaths of the other, and think, “This is my family.”

Before my own lovely daughter was born, I used to look with I-hope-not-too-thinly-disguised pity upon mothers who lugged their babies around in car carriers and giant strollers. I would watch them try to maneuver around post office queues and waiting rooms with their SUV-like strollers or awkwardly shift a heavy carrier from hand to hand while balancing three other bags and opening a heavy door (yes, I did open the heavy door for them if possible). That will never be me! I thought. It all looked like a lot of rigmarole for just a tiny baby. I was given a really nice ergo baby carrier and bought another wrap, envisioning myself threading easily down supermarket aisles and through crowds of people with my baby happily nestled against me.

Now, I too, have become a plastic-equipment-lugging mother. And yes, it is just as awkward and cumbersome as it looks. But Abigail is so not into holding perfectly still and nestling against my chest where her view of the world is obscured. She loves to be held but she has to position herself just so. And three minutes later, she has to reposition herself just so again, only in a totally different spot. She likes to see my face, hear my heartbeat, and get a 180 degree view of her surroundings, preferably all at one time. She has figured out that if she leans way over so her head is partly on my breast and partly on my arm, looking up, she can accomplish this. But that is not comfortable for long, and you can’t do it in a baby carrier. So, I put her in one of her carriers, and she is quite happy for three minutes… then the shrieks and wild thrashings begin. Alas. I’ll keep trying for awhile, and save the baby carrier experiments for walks at home. In the meantime I’m getting a little muscle definition on the ole triceps, a vision not seen since… well, has there ever been such a sight?

If you like pastel interior decorating, baby girl dresses, or round pregnant bellies, this is the photo set for you! Sorry, I no longer know how to post pictures to my blog so all you get is a link:

Ready for Baby

In which I struggle against the inertia of bored data entry clerks and poorly linked databases to get one digit of my birth date corrected at the health insurance company.

Number of
phone calls: 11
emails: 4
faxes: 1
agencies: 3
departments: 5
representatives: 8
days: 35

Victory! I actually said, “Praise the Lord! I’m dancing around the kitchen!” when the insurance company customer service rep told me that she was seeing my correct birth date.

This is our third battle on the issue. Dr. G’s previous attempt, in January, ended with someone’s stonewalling request for an original birth certificate.

Baby Bangs! Just in case I have a bald baby girl, because that would be too terrible to imagine. I was a bald baby myself, and would have LOVED to have worn a synthetic toupee for my early months of life. I still feel the persecution of those difficult times.

Well, I’m in the final countdown now with the pregnancy. About 6 and half weeks left to go. Pregnancy has been really weird. I work very hard to create realistic expectations, but boy, was I way off on this one. Realism was not enough to prepare me for the reality of my particular pregnancy.

I didn’t expect pregancy to be the defining factor of my existence. I expected it to be a somewhat inconvenient but interesting period of anticipation. You know, last hurrahs of the old independent life, getting ready for the new parent life. In fact, I lived more or less as an invalid for the first six months– first due to doctor restrictions on a high risk pregnancy, then due to severe and ongoing nausea. For so many days and weeks and months my daily agenda was 1. Be pregnant and 2. try to do one other thing. The nausea hasn’t totally abated, but now I can mow the lawn, eat a meal, or get up quickly from the couch without retching. FREEDOM! It looks like the freedom may be shortlived as more late pregancy symptoms crop up, but by golly I’m going to live like a functional adult while I can.

I didn’t expect my self-identity to be so affected. I was suprised by how much my sense of self turned out to be determined by my body. I thought of myself as a person with a certain energy level, capable of doing x kinds of things, with y appearance, and z tastes in food etc. Having all this go out the window virtually at once has been shocking. I remember many days feeling like, “who am I again?” For many months the only outward physical sign of pregnancy was a rapidly increasing bra size, coupled with a rapidly shrinking pants size due to weight loss. I had the hips I remembered from college but something all new going on up front. I didn’t get over feeling self-concious about it until my belly grew big enough to stick out further than my chest, at around 6 and a half months. For some reason that configuration seems more… acceptable?

I didn’t expect so many people to be so deeply interested in my pregancy. In the past, when friends have gotten pregnant, I have felt excited for them and interested in the changes in their lives, but not necessarily yearning for gory details or anything like that. I kind of thought that everyone was that way and thus have been careful not to burden most people with too much pregnancy info. After all, people procreate every day, and just because I think my baby is special, I didn’t expect anyone other than the grandmothers to think that too. But it has been a nice surprise to have some friends and family kindly insist, through questions, prayers, gifts, information, and other kinds of support that they really do care about the details.

I didn’t expect pregnancy to be so political. I probably should have,though. We all know that’s true for childrearing, but it actually starts much earlier. There are moral opinions on everything from how one gets pregnant (or doesn’t), to how you act while you are pregnant, to childbirth and delivery. While my friends and family don’t burden me with judgment or unasked for advice, I have stepped into a few landmines here and there with people I don’t know as well. I have offended a bit with the occasional parasite joke or irreverent attitude towards my own pregnancy. People who have found pregnancy to be a special, even sacred, experience don’t go for my jokes much. Why would I laugh at CREATING NEW LIFE? For me, though, thinking that building a new human bit by bit is pretty amazing coexists just fine with a few eye-rolls. It’s part of learning to appreciate the experience. As I’m sure, when the baby is born, I will obsessively and completely adore every centimeter of her, and also find time to poke fun at her monkey toes or the weird sounds she makes when she poops. Note to Baby: come out pretty soon so I can hear the gross sounds you make!download Atonementdownload House on the Edge of the Park, The

There are still a few more days in Poetry Month (April) to appreciate the latest and greatest from Unsplendid download righteous kill dvd , the online poetry zine I edit with some friends. I wrote the preface this time, which is like a FREE blog post. http://unsplendid.com/

Copy and paste this into your own blog, if you want to participate. Then, bold the items that you’ve actually done.

1. Started your own blog

2. Slept under the stars

3. Played in a band

4. Visited Hawaii

5. Watched a meteor shower

6. Given more than you can afford to charity

7. Been to Disneyland

8. Climbed a mountain

9. Held a praying mantis

10. Sang a solo

11. Bungee jumped

12. Visited Paris

13. Watched a lightning storm at sea

14. Taught yourself an art from scratch

15. Adopted a child

16. Had food poisoning

17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty

18. Grown your own vegetables

19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France

20. Slept on an overnight train

21. Had a pillow fight

22. Hitch hiked

23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill

24. Built a snow fort

25. Held a lamb

26. Gone skinny dipping

27. Run a Marathon

28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice

29. Seen a total eclipse

30. Watched a sunrise or sunset

31. Hit a home run

32. Been on a cruise

33. Seen Niagara Falls in person

34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors

35. Seen an Amish community

36. Taught yourself a new language

37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied

38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person

39. Gone rock climbing

40. Seen Michelangelo’s David

41. Sung karaoke

42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt

43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant

44. Visited Africa

45. Walked on a beach by moonlight

46. Been transported in an ambulance

47. Had your portrait painted (kind of? spent an afternoon as a model for an artist friend once)

48. Gone deep sea fishing

49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person

50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris

51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling

52. Kissed in the rain

53. Played in the mud

54. Gone to a drive-in theater

55. Been in a movie

56. Visited the Great Wall of China

57. Started a business sort of? freelancing.

58. Taken a martial arts class

59. Visited Russia

60. Served at a soup kitchen

61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies

62. Gone whale watching

63. Got flowers for no reason

64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma

65. Gone sky diving

66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp

67. Bounced a check

68. Flown in a helicopter

69. Saved a favorite childhood toy

70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial

71. Eaten Caviar

72. Pieced a quilt

73. Stood in Times Square

74. Toured the Everglades

75. Been fired from a job

76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London

77. Broken a bone

78. Been on a speeding motorcycle

79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person

80. Published a book

81. Visited the Vatican

82. Bought a brand new car

83. Walked in Jerusalem

84. Had your picture in the newspaper

85. Read the entire Bible

86. Visited the White House

87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating

88. Had chickenpox

89. Saved someone’s life

90. Sat on a jury

91. Met someone famous

92. Joined a book club

93. Lost a loved one

94. Had a baby

95. Seen the Alamo in person

96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake

97. Been involved in a law suit

98. Owned a cell phone

99. Been stung by a bee

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