I wish time travel were a real thing. I wish I could snap a photo of my daughter's face and pop back to July of last year to show the terrified young woman (me) exactly what she would have if she could just stick it out a few months longer. Although... I guess it really wouldn't matter, since I held out and chose to bring Sol into the world anyway. But I'm sure the pregnancy would have been a lot easier if I had known exactly what I had to look forward to.
I chose to keep my pregnancy a secret for a long time. Looking back, that was pointless, because things didn't really start looking up until I broke the news. I wrote a letter (from my post Breaking News) to tell my loved ones about my pregnancy. And I should tell you that the letter wasn't my idea... it was my mom's (my mom is always coming up with fabulous ideas like that). And what a great idea it was! So many phone calls, cards, letters, texts, etc etc... the outpouring of love and support that I received in response to the letter was more than I ever dreamed would happen. Maybe it was because I was ashamed of myself, or maybe it was because I had someone telling me from the very beginning that no one would love me if I told them I was pregnant. Maybe it was a little bit of both. Regardless, I never expected to have so much support.
I'm sure the major wireless carriers had a field day after I sent out my "big news" letter. I myself received countless texts/phone calls. And I'm sure there were maaaaany others being sent out among my family/friends, given the bomb I had just dropped (from my friend Al: "I must admit, you could have probably given me several guesses about what big news might be brewing among the Bierlein clan, but this would not have made my list of top 10 guesses. I think I bruised my jaw when it hit the floor"). But every message I received was ultimately one of love/support/excitement (from my cousin Emily: "The thing to remember is that it is not HOW a baby gets to this earth, it is that the baby is on this earth!").
Since I've shared my story through this blog, I've heard from so many people who have either been in a similar situation or known someone who's been in a similar situation. And each time I hear someone else's story, my heart has broken just a little because very few of them had the support that I had. The things that some people can say to/about an expectant mother... I shudder to think that humanity can be so cruel.
Pregnancy is scary. And your emotions are on a rollercoaster anyway. You cry for no reason when you're watching The Office (true story!). You laugh at the most inappropriate times. And if you're doing it alone, you're terrified every step of the way. There's so much to think about, so much to know, so much that will be changing.
I was recently talking to one of my friends who is also a single mom, and we were discussing just how much information a new single mom has to take in. Fortunately, I'm a sucker for researching even the most ridiculous topics, so I was able to find a lot of the answers to my questions through the wonderful world of Google. FMLA, child support, government assistance, child care databases, child care assistance, legal custody, physical custody, insurance/benefit information, tax information, affidavits of parentage, blah blah blah. There was so much to learn and so much conflicting information. Before Sol was born, I spoke with two different family law attorneys regarding the questions I had about all of the above. And the attorneys even gave me conflicting information! This whole experience has given me a keen interest in becoming a family law attorney. I'm not sure how seriously I feel about it, or whether it will ever come to fruition, but I have an idea:
I would love to go to law school (any takers to fund that endeavor???) and educate myself on all the ins and outs of family law: custody/paternity/adoption/etc. I would ABSOLUTELY LOVE to head up an organization to support expectant single mothers. And not just for low-income mommies-to-be. An organization that can help pregnant women (from all walks of life) plan their future with baby. An organization that can help all women see that an unplanned pregnancy is not the end of her life. An organization that can offer help to women who feel forced into abortion. An organization that can help women make a positive choice after seeing the positive test result - even if that means a knowledgeable, helpful referral to a caring adoption agency (remind me to tell you someday about my experience with adoption agencies). An organization that's founded not only on the desire to help young pregnant women, but also on the basis that I know what they're going through and can relate to their fears, frustrations, joys, etc. An organization that can offer legal, financial, and psychological counseling for mommies-to-be. An organization that can help all pregnant woman see that there is always sunshine after the rain. I've seen the rain, and I've seen the sunshine. And I can tell you firsthand, the sunshine will make you forget all about the rain. I wish someone had been there to tell me everything I needed to know about the legal and financial aspects of the road ahead of me.
If anyone has any advice or words of wisdom, send them my way (such as, aside from marrying a rich doctor, how to make money while doing this? pro bono doesn't exactly pay the rent...). Any advice will be well recieved. Maybe this isn't such a crazy idea after all.
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 13
Tuesday, March 6
KEEPING MY FACE TO THE SUN
I think I need to clarify a little bit from my last post:
First of all, I don't ever feel alone. I have the greatest family and friends that a young mama could ask for. I've received so much support, so much love, so much help from my loved ones - there's no possible way that I could feel like I'm lacking there. I'm a very blessed young woman; I have a beautiful daughter and a forcefield of family/friends who love me. I will never feel alone :)
Secondly, I don't think my life would be any better with Sol's dad in the picture. I think our life is easier without incorporating a man who doesn't want to be with us. Right now, Sol is all I need. HOWEVER... I think there's a divine reason that it takes two people to create a child. That said, it's natural for me to feel like I should have a partner throughout my pregnancy, as well as in raising my daughter. I don't think we're wired to go it alone. I was simply stating that I often wonder what it would have been like to have a man right there with me through it all. Not necessarily Sol's father, but simply a man who wanted to be a father.
Lastly, I know he's missing out. This beautiful girl belongs to me and only me, and he chose that. I chose her. She depends on me for everything, and I adore her more than I ever thought was possible. As I said in a previous post, I will never allow myself to forget that I chose this. She really is the sunshine of my life. Though I may have a laundry list of regrets in my life, Solaya is not one of them. I will never regret bringing her into the world. She will always be the sunshine I need. And as long as I keep my focus on her, I will never see the shadows.
First of all, I don't ever feel alone. I have the greatest family and friends that a young mama could ask for. I've received so much support, so much love, so much help from my loved ones - there's no possible way that I could feel like I'm lacking there. I'm a very blessed young woman; I have a beautiful daughter and a forcefield of family/friends who love me. I will never feel alone :)
Secondly, I don't think my life would be any better with Sol's dad in the picture. I think our life is easier without incorporating a man who doesn't want to be with us. Right now, Sol is all I need. HOWEVER... I think there's a divine reason that it takes two people to create a child. That said, it's natural for me to feel like I should have a partner throughout my pregnancy, as well as in raising my daughter. I don't think we're wired to go it alone. I was simply stating that I often wonder what it would have been like to have a man right there with me through it all. Not necessarily Sol's father, but simply a man who wanted to be a father.
Lastly, I know he's missing out. This beautiful girl belongs to me and only me, and he chose that. I chose her. She depends on me for everything, and I adore her more than I ever thought was possible. As I said in a previous post, I will never allow myself to forget that I chose this. She really is the sunshine of my life. Though I may have a laundry list of regrets in my life, Solaya is not one of them. I will never regret bringing her into the world. She will always be the sunshine I need. And as long as I keep my focus on her, I will never see the shadows.
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| Shortly after Sol was born, I received this fortune in my cookie :) Rather fitting, don't you think? |
Saturday, March 3
ALWAYS SOMETHING THERE TO REMIND ME
My baby is officially one month old! In her first month, she gained exactly 2 pounds, lost an umbilical cord (gross), lost some hair, and grew some sharp little fingernails (ouch). As always, I love her more and more every day. I didn't even realize it was possible to love one human this much. My whole world revolves around her. I take her out in public, and my heart swells with pride as people "ooh" and "aah" over her. Everything is going well - better than I expected, actually.
And even as things are going so well, I still read through the journal I kept while I was pregnant. I find myself holding my daughter in my left hand, my right hand flipping through the pages of the book that tells the story of how she came to be, complete with all the sadness, anger, and hopelessness that accompanied the pregnancy - and it seems like the greatest paradox in the history of the world. How could I have felt this sad, this lonely, as I was pregnant with Sol? If only I'd known just how easy it would be to love this little person.
At this point, it seems a little counterproductive to continue reading my pregnancy journal, doesn't it? Why relive the loneliness and sadness if everything is going so well? That's an excellent question, and I'm not even sure I have a good answer. But I can tell you this: even if I weren't reading the journal, the sad feelngs would still be there - they would still bubble up every so often. Even if I don't read my own descriptions of how hopeless I felt during my pregnancy, I remember those feelings pretty vividly. I remember them every single time I see a happy family - a baby with both a mother AND a father - or even a pregnant woman and her beaming husband/boyfriend. I feel the ache deep in my chest, and my throat tenses up as I smile at the glowing family in front of me, though inside I'm wishing it was me in her shoes. I know the feeling well.
I felt it when I was shopping in the maternity store in the mall - where young men would be standing outside the fitting rooms, waiting anxiously to see their wives come out and model the clothes that flattered their new curves and showed off the bellies that carried babies-to-be. I always shopped alone. There was never a man waiting outside the fitting room for me.
I felt it whenever I sat alone in the waiting room of the OB-GYN office, watching the other patients sitting there with their husbands and talking excitedly about their babies-to-be. And while my sister Liz came with me to as many appointments as she could, I always wondered what it would be like to have my baby's father there with me, to be excited about what was happening to me. I felt it the first time I heard my baby's heartbeat, and every time after that. Tears welled up in my eyes every time I listened to the little life in my belly. Each time I imagined what it would be like to have my baby's father there, holding my hand and listening with me.
I felt it when I registered for gifts for my baby shower. I had my sister Amanda there with me to register at one store, and I registered at another store by myself. I watched as other couples excitedly scanned their favorite strollers, but it only reminded me that my baby's father wasn't there to offer his input or help me decide which pack 'n' play would work best.
I feel it when I see happy couples proudly announcing the due date of their baby. They aren't worried about shame or disappointment, or how their friends will react. Their news is happy news, and they don't need to write their families a letter to explain the situation.
I feel it when I see a brand-new set of parents out with their baby. I see the father holding his daughter and proudly showing her off to everyone in his vicinity. I hear him talking to her in his cutesy-cute "baby" voice, and I hear him telling everyone at the table all about the wonder of the birth of his baby girl. I see him cradling her in his arms and making no attempt to hide the amazing love that he holds for his daughter. I see him take great pains to strap her safely into the car seat (one he helped pick out, no doubt). I see him carry the car seat and the diaper bag out of respect for his wife, the new mom. As I pack my own daughter into our secondhand car seat, juggle it with my purse and diaper bag, and head home without anyone to help us, I wonder what it would be like to have her father around to share the "new baby" excitement with.
I feel it whenever I see Sol's dad's name pop up on my phone. Every single time, a very small part of me hopes that he's calling because he wants to be in her life. It would make things easier... or would it? Miss Solaya and I certainly find ourselves in an unusual situation. And with every single call, I wonder what it would be like to just have a father in her life, no questions asked.
I feel it as I look through gifts Sol has received from our loved ones. I feel it as I look at all the "I Love Mommy" and "Mommy's Little Sweetheart" outfits. Although no one has mentioned it to me, I know that people had to look closely at the words written on each outfit before making their purchase. In the stores, there are too many sets of adorable onesies with "Daddy Loves Me" written on them - and it makes me feel badly that our family/friends have to stop and think about the words on Sol's outfits before buying them. I feel awful that I'll never be able to just pick up a set of green striped onesies and buy it for my daughter - I have to check whether it mentions anything about the daddy that's not involved.
I feel it as I try to fill out things like Sol's baby book. Everything is about "Mommy and Daddy." Look through the baby book section at your local big-box baby store. They don't sell baby books specifically geared toward single moms. I wonder what it would feel like to have someone to help me fill this book out.
I feel it when people ask me about Sol's father. Whether we're out in public or meeting someone who sort of knows us but doesn't know our story, we get the same sorts of questions. Well-meaning strangers will ask how excited Sol's dad is (I answer with "Oh, he almost can't believe it, he's so excited"). Acquaintances or younger children will ask where my husband/boyfriend is (I answer with "Oh, he's in Kalamazoo"). Maybe it's lying, maybe it's just avoiding the lengthy and uncomfortable conversation that would soon follow. It's not their fault that they ask such perfectly acceptable questions - why would anyone assume that someone with a brand-new baby is single?
And yet, the reality is just that: I'm a young mom, and I'm single. I don't have any idea what I'm doing. And every time I look around, I'm reminded of all that. Whether I read through my journal or take in my surroundings, there will always be something to remind me of the situation I'm in. I will never have a chance to forget the choices I made, nor the choices that Sol's dad made. I'll always be reminded that I wasn't enough to keep him around. No matter where I am in life, I will always have this dream of what it would have been like to go through my first pregnancy the "right" way - with someone there to love me and my changing body, to tell me I was beautiful, to tell me he loved me and couldn't wait to meet our child. I'll always feel cheated out of my first pregnancy. While the end result is so wonderful and perfect, the road to get there was anything but ideal. It's definitely not easy to be a single mom, and it's not easy to have so many reminders that her dad doesn't want to be around. I know that we won't be alone forever, though, and while I'm not rushing to find someone, I can't help but dream of what it will feel like to have a complete family. And I'll find someone good. She deserves it.
And even as things are going so well, I still read through the journal I kept while I was pregnant. I find myself holding my daughter in my left hand, my right hand flipping through the pages of the book that tells the story of how she came to be, complete with all the sadness, anger, and hopelessness that accompanied the pregnancy - and it seems like the greatest paradox in the history of the world. How could I have felt this sad, this lonely, as I was pregnant with Sol? If only I'd known just how easy it would be to love this little person.
At this point, it seems a little counterproductive to continue reading my pregnancy journal, doesn't it? Why relive the loneliness and sadness if everything is going so well? That's an excellent question, and I'm not even sure I have a good answer. But I can tell you this: even if I weren't reading the journal, the sad feelngs would still be there - they would still bubble up every so often. Even if I don't read my own descriptions of how hopeless I felt during my pregnancy, I remember those feelings pretty vividly. I remember them every single time I see a happy family - a baby with both a mother AND a father - or even a pregnant woman and her beaming husband/boyfriend. I feel the ache deep in my chest, and my throat tenses up as I smile at the glowing family in front of me, though inside I'm wishing it was me in her shoes. I know the feeling well.
I felt it when I was shopping in the maternity store in the mall - where young men would be standing outside the fitting rooms, waiting anxiously to see their wives come out and model the clothes that flattered their new curves and showed off the bellies that carried babies-to-be. I always shopped alone. There was never a man waiting outside the fitting room for me.
I felt it whenever I sat alone in the waiting room of the OB-GYN office, watching the other patients sitting there with their husbands and talking excitedly about their babies-to-be. And while my sister Liz came with me to as many appointments as she could, I always wondered what it would be like to have my baby's father there with me, to be excited about what was happening to me. I felt it the first time I heard my baby's heartbeat, and every time after that. Tears welled up in my eyes every time I listened to the little life in my belly. Each time I imagined what it would be like to have my baby's father there, holding my hand and listening with me.
I felt it when I registered for gifts for my baby shower. I had my sister Amanda there with me to register at one store, and I registered at another store by myself. I watched as other couples excitedly scanned their favorite strollers, but it only reminded me that my baby's father wasn't there to offer his input or help me decide which pack 'n' play would work best.
I feel it when I see happy couples proudly announcing the due date of their baby. They aren't worried about shame or disappointment, or how their friends will react. Their news is happy news, and they don't need to write their families a letter to explain the situation.
I feel it when I see a brand-new set of parents out with their baby. I see the father holding his daughter and proudly showing her off to everyone in his vicinity. I hear him talking to her in his cutesy-cute "baby" voice, and I hear him telling everyone at the table all about the wonder of the birth of his baby girl. I see him cradling her in his arms and making no attempt to hide the amazing love that he holds for his daughter. I see him take great pains to strap her safely into the car seat (one he helped pick out, no doubt). I see him carry the car seat and the diaper bag out of respect for his wife, the new mom. As I pack my own daughter into our secondhand car seat, juggle it with my purse and diaper bag, and head home without anyone to help us, I wonder what it would be like to have her father around to share the "new baby" excitement with.
I feel it whenever I see Sol's dad's name pop up on my phone. Every single time, a very small part of me hopes that he's calling because he wants to be in her life. It would make things easier... or would it? Miss Solaya and I certainly find ourselves in an unusual situation. And with every single call, I wonder what it would be like to just have a father in her life, no questions asked.
I feel it as I look through gifts Sol has received from our loved ones. I feel it as I look at all the "I Love Mommy" and "Mommy's Little Sweetheart" outfits. Although no one has mentioned it to me, I know that people had to look closely at the words written on each outfit before making their purchase. In the stores, there are too many sets of adorable onesies with "Daddy Loves Me" written on them - and it makes me feel badly that our family/friends have to stop and think about the words on Sol's outfits before buying them. I feel awful that I'll never be able to just pick up a set of green striped onesies and buy it for my daughter - I have to check whether it mentions anything about the daddy that's not involved.
I feel it as I try to fill out things like Sol's baby book. Everything is about "Mommy and Daddy." Look through the baby book section at your local big-box baby store. They don't sell baby books specifically geared toward single moms. I wonder what it would feel like to have someone to help me fill this book out.
I feel it when people ask me about Sol's father. Whether we're out in public or meeting someone who sort of knows us but doesn't know our story, we get the same sorts of questions. Well-meaning strangers will ask how excited Sol's dad is (I answer with "Oh, he almost can't believe it, he's so excited"). Acquaintances or younger children will ask where my husband/boyfriend is (I answer with "Oh, he's in Kalamazoo"). Maybe it's lying, maybe it's just avoiding the lengthy and uncomfortable conversation that would soon follow. It's not their fault that they ask such perfectly acceptable questions - why would anyone assume that someone with a brand-new baby is single?
And yet, the reality is just that: I'm a young mom, and I'm single. I don't have any idea what I'm doing. And every time I look around, I'm reminded of all that. Whether I read through my journal or take in my surroundings, there will always be something to remind me of the situation I'm in. I will never have a chance to forget the choices I made, nor the choices that Sol's dad made. I'll always be reminded that I wasn't enough to keep him around. No matter where I am in life, I will always have this dream of what it would have been like to go through my first pregnancy the "right" way - with someone there to love me and my changing body, to tell me I was beautiful, to tell me he loved me and couldn't wait to meet our child. I'll always feel cheated out of my first pregnancy. While the end result is so wonderful and perfect, the road to get there was anything but ideal. It's definitely not easy to be a single mom, and it's not easy to have so many reminders that her dad doesn't want to be around. I know that we won't be alone forever, though, and while I'm not rushing to find someone, I can't help but dream of what it will feel like to have a complete family. And I'll find someone good. She deserves it.
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| Compliments of Barking Bird Art |
Sunday, February 26
DO I MISS IT? MAYBE.
News flash: mommyhood is NOT easy. But it's definitely not as difficult as I was expecting. I'm officially a mom now. I'm not pregnant anymore. My daughter is now 3 weeks old and she's the greatest thing that's ever happened to me (as cliche as that sounds). Yep, even at 2am I adore her. Near the end of my pregnancy, I was really worried that I would miss being pregnant and have a difficult time with the transition to mommyhood. But as it turns out, I'm loving being a mom.
Don't get me wrong, there are things I miss about being pregnant:
Don't get me wrong, there are things I miss about being pregnant:
- Now that I'm no longer sporting the baby bump, I can't park in the bright pink "expectant mother" parking spots anymore (well, I could, but last time I parked there when I wasn't pregnant, I ended up with a positive pregnancy test shortly after. Karma, anyone?).
- I miss getting more than 3 hours of sleep at a time. My girl likes to party all the time (at night, anyway). Yes, Sol sleeps - but during the day. She certainly keeps me on my toes at 3, 4, and 5 in the morning.
- I actually miss the crazy dreams. Mine are pretty boring now - no magic cilantro paste that can save me from the dinosaur-sized horses at my cousin's outdoor wedding (yes, that was a real dream).
- I miss going to a public event and sitting wherever I please. Now, I sit near the back or near an exit and spend 95% of the event scanning the room, "scoping out logistics."
- I miss using my purse. It's only been 3 weeks and I've given up on the purse thing. Now, my purse is the diaper bag. I'm a mom.
- I miss "I'm just gonna run in really quick." There's no such thing as that anymore.
- I miss being able to prepare food when I'm hungry. I miss having time to sit down and eat something. Today, for example, I ate breakfast at 1:49pm - after waking up, bathing Sol, dressing Sol, feeding Sol, getting dressed, going to a new member class at church, attending the church service that followed, coming home, feeding Sol (again), bathing her (again), and dressing her (again). And that "breakfast?" It consisted of a tossed salad, straight out of the package. Yum.
- I miss Baby B dancing around in my belly. I miss lying in bed, feeling Baby B kicking, and wondering whether it was a boy or a girl, or what he/she would look like.
- I miss the anticipation of D-day.
- First and foremost, I love waking up to a little bundle named Solaya. While I miss the anticipation of meeting my baby for the first time, I love knowing her. I love knowing this little person who depends totally and completely on me.
- I love having an appetite. Near the end of my pregnancy, I remember telling my mom that I couldn't remember the last time I actually felt hungry. I was either sick, stricken with heartburn, or just plain full. Now I'm hungry all the time. And given my affinity for eating a tremendous amount of food, I couldn't be happier.
- I love taking Sol out in public and having people "ooh" and "aah" over her. Yeah, she's wonderful :)
- I love the fact that I can fit my feet into my shoes again. I almost can't believe just how swollen my legs and feet became. FACT: I couldn't even fit my feet into my winter boots at 9 months pregnant. Below is photo evidence of aforementioned swelling:
- Above all, I love looking back on my pregnancy and realizing just how wrong I was. I was wrong with every bout of sobbing, every time I felt alone, every time I thought I couldn't handle this. I had no idea how much support I would have, or just how much my friends and family would love Sol. I think about the man who told me that no one would love my child because no one would be happy that I was pregnant. I think about how wrong he was. I feel sorry for him. Every time I look at my daughter, I think of how much he's missing. I get to enjoy this beautiful girl all day, every day. Nothing can top that. She's my whole world.
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| 9 months pregnant |
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| 2 weeks into mommyhood |
Tuesday, February 7
HERE COMES THE SUN (HUM ALONG IF YOU LIKE)
It's been almost a week since my last post. And it's been a whirlwind few days. All last week was spent in long walks, jalapeno peppers and other spicy foods, five (yes, FIVE) jumping jacks, an encounter with castor oil, and even three frozen Tyson chicken strips (although I'm a devout vegetarian). After trying every trick in the "old wives' manual," it turned out that patience was the key.
It's a girl! The wait is over :) My baby was born on a Thursday. I went into the hospital at 10am, started pushing around 8pm, and we met Solaya ("Sol" for short) at 9:05pm. I was actually lucky enough to be able to reach down as she entered the world and pull her up on my chest with my own two hands, "delivering" her myself. It was the most wonderful experience in the world. On February 2, 2012, my world was flipped around when Solaya entered it.
Many have asked where the name came from. Sol is Spanish for "sun" and Laya is Sanskrit for "peace of mind." I liked both so much that I squished the two together to create Solaya. (And because I know you're probably wondering, Solaya is pronounced "so-lie-yah.") Haven has no special connection aside from the fact that it's just a beautiful word with a beautiful meaning: "a place of refuge or rest." And Hammond? It's a family name. Since sharing the news of my pregnancy, I've received overwhelming support from my family, and it seemed imperative that I integrate Hammond into Sol's name.
My little Sol is absolutely the best and most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me. And as passionate as I am for writing, I can't seem to find sufficient words to describe just how amazing this little person is. As cliche as it sounds, I literally can't imagine my life without my beautiful daughter.
It doesn't matter whether it's 2pm or 2am: every single time I look at her, I remind myself that I chose this. I chose her. It hasn't even been a week yet, and Sol is my entire world. I think of the days where I felt sad and lonely, and it seems totally pointless. I was worried about this? For what reason? No, it's not easy getting two hours of sleep at a time. And no, it's not easy reversing the orbit of your entire world for a little human. But she's totally worth it.
From the very beginning, every single time I went to one of my OB appointments, it rained (even in December/January). It was always cloudy and rainy, sometimes stormy, and once there was even a tornado while I was at the office. It almost seemed like a sign: this pregnancy was supposed to be dreary.
It seems too perfect, then, that my pregnancy ended with the arrival of my sunshine: my little Sol. My sister Liz said, "All those rainy days, who knew there was sunshine underneath it all!" Yep, here comes the sun. And my future with her looks spectacularly bright.
It's a girl! The wait is over :) My baby was born on a Thursday. I went into the hospital at 10am, started pushing around 8pm, and we met Solaya ("Sol" for short) at 9:05pm. I was actually lucky enough to be able to reach down as she entered the world and pull her up on my chest with my own two hands, "delivering" her myself. It was the most wonderful experience in the world. On February 2, 2012, my world was flipped around when Solaya entered it.
Many have asked where the name came from. Sol is Spanish for "sun" and Laya is Sanskrit for "peace of mind." I liked both so much that I squished the two together to create Solaya. (And because I know you're probably wondering, Solaya is pronounced "so-lie-yah.") Haven has no special connection aside from the fact that it's just a beautiful word with a beautiful meaning: "a place of refuge or rest." And Hammond? It's a family name. Since sharing the news of my pregnancy, I've received overwhelming support from my family, and it seemed imperative that I integrate Hammond into Sol's name.
My little Sol is absolutely the best and most beautiful thing that's ever happened to me. And as passionate as I am for writing, I can't seem to find sufficient words to describe just how amazing this little person is. As cliche as it sounds, I literally can't imagine my life without my beautiful daughter.
It doesn't matter whether it's 2pm or 2am: every single time I look at her, I remind myself that I chose this. I chose her. It hasn't even been a week yet, and Sol is my entire world. I think of the days where I felt sad and lonely, and it seems totally pointless. I was worried about this? For what reason? No, it's not easy getting two hours of sleep at a time. And no, it's not easy reversing the orbit of your entire world for a little human. But she's totally worth it.
From the very beginning, every single time I went to one of my OB appointments, it rained (even in December/January). It was always cloudy and rainy, sometimes stormy, and once there was even a tornado while I was at the office. It almost seemed like a sign: this pregnancy was supposed to be dreary.
It seems too perfect, then, that my pregnancy ended with the arrival of my sunshine: my little Sol. My sister Liz said, "All those rainy days, who knew there was sunshine underneath it all!" Yep, here comes the sun. And my future with her looks spectacularly bright.
Wednesday, February 1
STITCH BY STITCH
Today is January 31. Baby is officially late. One of my friends told me today that her baby arrived late because "he just took that extra time to make sure he was just absolutely flawless." I agree. And her baby Logan is pretty freakin' adorable.
I have this great daily desk calendar that I keep on my kitchen counter (compliments of my mother), and on each day is a picture of Ireland and a wonderful Irish saying. Below is a picture of the page from yesterday, Baby B's due date:
"Character, like embroidery, is made stitch by stitch." Well put, Ireland. Methinks that my little MiniMon is just taking his or her time to get everything stitched just right. Maybe my little one will be extra full of character :) (oh my, the things I have to look forward to...)
And speaking of stitching, I'm just going to brag JUST a little... way back in the fall, I decided that I needed a project on which I could focus all my energy. I decided to make a quilt! Now hear this: I had never once attempted quilting before in my life. But I'm no stranger to sewing (with a machine, that is). So I ventured out to our totally ghetto Jo-Ann Fabrics and picked out some uber-cool fabric: all very colorful, and many of which featured some of my favorite things (clovers/Ireland, compasses/maps, rainbows, cupcakes, cooking/baking, recycling/Earth, and of course, MONSTERS). And even though I don't currently own a sewing machine, I thought 'How hard could it be to sew a baby quilt by hand?'
HOW HARD COULD IT BE?
Well, here I am, four months later, a day past my due date, and I've finally finished my quilt! This was a true labor of love. I've drawn blood with those $%^& pins and needles countless times - literally put my blood, sweat, and tears into this quilt. It's taken hours upon hours of cutting, pressing, pinning, stitching, and re-stitching, but I'm done. And I have to say that I'm majorly proud of this quilt. Maybe Baby B can arrive now! And for the record, I'm looking for a sewing machine, if anyone is looking to get rid of one... :)
I have this great daily desk calendar that I keep on my kitchen counter (compliments of my mother), and on each day is a picture of Ireland and a wonderful Irish saying. Below is a picture of the page from yesterday, Baby B's due date:
And speaking of stitching, I'm just going to brag JUST a little... way back in the fall, I decided that I needed a project on which I could focus all my energy. I decided to make a quilt! Now hear this: I had never once attempted quilting before in my life. But I'm no stranger to sewing (with a machine, that is). So I ventured out to our totally ghetto Jo-Ann Fabrics and picked out some uber-cool fabric: all very colorful, and many of which featured some of my favorite things (clovers/Ireland, compasses/maps, rainbows, cupcakes, cooking/baking, recycling/Earth, and of course, MONSTERS). And even though I don't currently own a sewing machine, I thought 'How hard could it be to sew a baby quilt by hand?'
HOW HARD COULD IT BE?
Well, here I am, four months later, a day past my due date, and I've finally finished my quilt! This was a true labor of love. I've drawn blood with those $%^& pins and needles countless times - literally put my blood, sweat, and tears into this quilt. It's taken hours upon hours of cutting, pressing, pinning, stitching, and re-stitching, but I'm done. And I have to say that I'm majorly proud of this quilt. Maybe Baby B can arrive now! And for the record, I'm looking for a sewing machine, if anyone is looking to get rid of one... :)
Monday, January 30
PATIENCE: NOT MY STRONG SUIT
First things first: TODAY IS MiniMon's DUE DATE!!!
Well, it happened. I had my turn at false labor. I was having contractions all Thursday night, couldn't sleep, and ended up calling my doctor at 3am. He told me to take some Tylenol, take a warm bath, and check back in the morning. So after drawing myself a nice warm bath and trying to doze in it (using a rolled-up towel as a pillow), I realized I would probably drown myself before anything productive happened. So I got out, went back to bed, caught maybe an hour of sleep, and headed to work. Contractions continued all day until I saw my doctor at 3pm. After an uneventful non-stress test (monitoring both Baby B's heartbeat and my contractions), they sent me home. So here I sit, Monday morning, after an entirely unsuccessful weekend of long walks and spicy food, waiting for Baby to signal that he/she is ready to join the outside world.
This weekend I realized for the very first time that I'm waiting IMPATIENTLY. Had you asked me six months, three months, or even just one month ago, I would've told you that I wanted Baby B to arrive late because I just wasn't ready in any respect. It goes without saying that my pregnancy wasn't all rainbows and sunshine. However, I can't deny that with time, prayer, love and support from my family, I felt less hopeless and more excited about the baby that was coming into the world. Looking through the journal I kept during my pregnancy, I see too many early entries about feeling alone, sad, and hopeless. However, things start to look a little brighter after I broke the news to my family. The following entry, for example, was written after I had told both of my sisters about Baby B:
August 7, 2011: Dear Baby, I wonder what you look like. I wonder what color your hair will be, and what color your eyes will be. My Baby :) I'm sorry I've been so sad.
It was pointless that I ever felt so sad about something so amazing. Expecting a baby is never a curse; it is always a blessing for SOMEONE. Today I couldn't be happier that I was able to get past the sadness and find the joy in my pregnancy.
And here I am, on my due date, and I can't wait to meet my little monster! I can't wait to kiss Baby's nose and have Baby's perfect little hand wrapped around my finger. I can't wait to watch my little one sleep, or to hear him or her cry for the very first time. Above all, I can't wait for the moment when the doctor places Baby B. on my chest for the first time. I can't even imagine what that will feel like. It's surreal to have lived every day of the past nine months, both waking and sleeping, with this little human living right there inside my belly. And although I've probably felt every possible emotion about my baby throughout this pregnancy, I feel nothing but elation and excitement now. I love this baby more than I ever thought was humanly possible. You can come on out whenever, Baby - there are plenty of people who can't wait to meet you!
Well, it happened. I had my turn at false labor. I was having contractions all Thursday night, couldn't sleep, and ended up calling my doctor at 3am. He told me to take some Tylenol, take a warm bath, and check back in the morning. So after drawing myself a nice warm bath and trying to doze in it (using a rolled-up towel as a pillow), I realized I would probably drown myself before anything productive happened. So I got out, went back to bed, caught maybe an hour of sleep, and headed to work. Contractions continued all day until I saw my doctor at 3pm. After an uneventful non-stress test (monitoring both Baby B's heartbeat and my contractions), they sent me home. So here I sit, Monday morning, after an entirely unsuccessful weekend of long walks and spicy food, waiting for Baby to signal that he/she is ready to join the outside world.
This weekend I realized for the very first time that I'm waiting IMPATIENTLY. Had you asked me six months, three months, or even just one month ago, I would've told you that I wanted Baby B to arrive late because I just wasn't ready in any respect. It goes without saying that my pregnancy wasn't all rainbows and sunshine. However, I can't deny that with time, prayer, love and support from my family, I felt less hopeless and more excited about the baby that was coming into the world. Looking through the journal I kept during my pregnancy, I see too many early entries about feeling alone, sad, and hopeless. However, things start to look a little brighter after I broke the news to my family. The following entry, for example, was written after I had told both of my sisters about Baby B:
August 7, 2011: Dear Baby, I wonder what you look like. I wonder what color your hair will be, and what color your eyes will be. My Baby :) I'm sorry I've been so sad.
It was pointless that I ever felt so sad about something so amazing. Expecting a baby is never a curse; it is always a blessing for SOMEONE. Today I couldn't be happier that I was able to get past the sadness and find the joy in my pregnancy.
And here I am, on my due date, and I can't wait to meet my little monster! I can't wait to kiss Baby's nose and have Baby's perfect little hand wrapped around my finger. I can't wait to watch my little one sleep, or to hear him or her cry for the very first time. Above all, I can't wait for the moment when the doctor places Baby B. on my chest for the first time. I can't even imagine what that will feel like. It's surreal to have lived every day of the past nine months, both waking and sleeping, with this little human living right there inside my belly. And although I've probably felt every possible emotion about my baby throughout this pregnancy, I feel nothing but elation and excitement now. I love this baby more than I ever thought was humanly possible. You can come on out whenever, Baby - there are plenty of people who can't wait to meet you!
Friday, January 13
I WORRY
1. I worry about my car. Affectionately dubbed “The Starship,” my car is a rather new purchase, a dependable and compact Honda Civic that somewhat resembles something from the Ringling Brothers. In case a Civic weren’t small enough, consider the fact that it’s a coupe. I took it to the local baby superstore to try out various infant car seats in the back seat. Only one worked. Now, I’m not saying that the majority of car seats were snug, or that there wasn’t much room when I tried them; I’m saying that both front seats were impossible to lock in place when the car seat was installed properly. So even if Baby B. is buckled in safely, I’ll be sliding forward and backward as I man the Starship. Needless to say, my car seat options are mighty slim pickin’s.
2. I worry about my finances. Babies are expensive. And even though I hold a special place in my heart for Microsoft Excel and I adore creating spreadsheets, I detest my semi-weekly review of my current budget vs. après-baby budget.
3. I worry about the first night. I don’t think I know anyone else who’s raised a baby totally on her own, right from the very beginning. I’ve heard from people who have “had someone there, but he wasn’t much help,” etc. But even if their support persons weren’t much support, they still had someone else there. I’m absolutely terrified of the first night I’ll spend alone with this new little person.
4. I worry that I end too many phrases with “That’s what she said.”
5. I worry about baby-proofing my home. Example: At this very moment, I have a Nicaraguan machete leaning against the wall on the floor near my dining room table. What am I supposed to do with that?
6. I worry about how I’m going to get a tan. Skin cancer awareness groups, avert your eyes… I like the tanner. A) I may not be able to afford it anymore, and B) I can’t bring the baby to the tanning salon with me. Now what?
7. I worry about my wardrobe. Now that I’ll be spending all my time and money shopping for the little person in my life, how am I supposed to maintain my own fashion? Call me a materialistic bum if you want, but I won’t deny that I’m worried about it.
8. I worry about not having time to myself. I worry about no longer knowing peace and quiet.
9. I worry about being single. Like any other young woman, I want to find love. I want to find Mr. Right. I thought it was hard before. I think it just got a gazillion times harder.
10. I worry about being selfish. (see numbers 5-9)
11. I worry about fighting the urge to down the whole jar of baby food myself while feeding Baby B. My name is Melanie and I’m a huge sucker for baby food pears and plums. I was born this way.
12. I worry about blaming Baby B. for the changes he/she will bring to my life. I worry that I’ll forget to remind myself that Baby B. is a human to be loved, not an inconvenience to be managed.
13. I worry about setting a good example for Baby B. How am I supposed to teach Baby B. all the right things when I’m far from perfect? Isn’t that hypocritical?
14. Above all, I worry about the day when my child asks me where Daddy is. I worry that Baby B. will wonder why every other kid in daycare sees his/her father, even if only part-time, and Baby B. has never met this “dad” person. I worry that Baby B. will wonder why he/she wasn’t good enough for Daddy to want to be a part of our life. I worry that Baby B. will resent me for making poor decisions, or for not choosing adoption so that Baby B. could have a mom AND a dad. I worry that Baby B. will grow up missing out on a huge part of childhood because we’ll be absent a parent. I worry that I won’t be enough. I can hide the machete and do without tanning sessions. I can fight the urge to eat the baby food pears, and I can go without a new pair of jeans. But I can’t be a dad. I guess I’ll just have to be the best mom I can be.
2. I worry about my finances. Babies are expensive. And even though I hold a special place in my heart for Microsoft Excel and I adore creating spreadsheets, I detest my semi-weekly review of my current budget vs. après-baby budget.
3. I worry about the first night. I don’t think I know anyone else who’s raised a baby totally on her own, right from the very beginning. I’ve heard from people who have “had someone there, but he wasn’t much help,” etc. But even if their support persons weren’t much support, they still had someone else there. I’m absolutely terrified of the first night I’ll spend alone with this new little person.
4. I worry that I end too many phrases with “That’s what she said.”
5. I worry about baby-proofing my home. Example: At this very moment, I have a Nicaraguan machete leaning against the wall on the floor near my dining room table. What am I supposed to do with that?
6. I worry about how I’m going to get a tan. Skin cancer awareness groups, avert your eyes… I like the tanner. A) I may not be able to afford it anymore, and B) I can’t bring the baby to the tanning salon with me. Now what?
7. I worry about my wardrobe. Now that I’ll be spending all my time and money shopping for the little person in my life, how am I supposed to maintain my own fashion? Call me a materialistic bum if you want, but I won’t deny that I’m worried about it.
8. I worry about not having time to myself. I worry about no longer knowing peace and quiet.
9. I worry about being single. Like any other young woman, I want to find love. I want to find Mr. Right. I thought it was hard before. I think it just got a gazillion times harder.
10. I worry about being selfish. (see numbers 5-9)
11. I worry about fighting the urge to down the whole jar of baby food myself while feeding Baby B. My name is Melanie and I’m a huge sucker for baby food pears and plums. I was born this way.
12. I worry about blaming Baby B. for the changes he/she will bring to my life. I worry that I’ll forget to remind myself that Baby B. is a human to be loved, not an inconvenience to be managed.
13. I worry about setting a good example for Baby B. How am I supposed to teach Baby B. all the right things when I’m far from perfect? Isn’t that hypocritical?
14. Above all, I worry about the day when my child asks me where Daddy is. I worry that Baby B. will wonder why every other kid in daycare sees his/her father, even if only part-time, and Baby B. has never met this “dad” person. I worry that Baby B. will wonder why he/she wasn’t good enough for Daddy to want to be a part of our life. I worry that Baby B. will resent me for making poor decisions, or for not choosing adoption so that Baby B. could have a mom AND a dad. I worry that Baby B. will grow up missing out on a huge part of childhood because we’ll be absent a parent. I worry that I won’t be enough. I can hide the machete and do without tanning sessions. I can fight the urge to eat the baby food pears, and I can go without a new pair of jeans. But I can’t be a dad. I guess I’ll just have to be the best mom I can be.
Tuesday, January 10
TWO HEARTS INTO ONE
Lately I've been poring over the journal in which I scribbled all my thoughts, my hopes and fears, during the first few months of pregnancy. I'm unsure whether this is God's good humor or whether it's just a dumb concidence, but on the very first page is the following inscription:
The journal was a gift from Baby B's father -- one he gave me long ago. Below the inscription he wrote this:
That feels like it was so long ago, that I was in a totally different world as a totally different person on that day when I was able to see my baby for the first time. My emotions had gone crazy. I was elated and scared and terrified and awed, all at the same time. I couldn't believe what I was seeing on the screen. And to be honest, when I look at my most recent ultrasound picture, I can't see anything but love. I can't imagine feeling anything but love. And while I'm still a little terrified, that's normal for a new mom. I have no doubt that things will work out. My faith is strong and I'm prepared to face the vast unknown that comes with bringing a baby into the world.
I write this at the risk of many people telling me that I'm wrong for even sharing something like this - for sharing the ups and downs of my unplanned pregnancy. There might be many people out there who will call me a terrible mother for it, but I don't care. I'm glad that I'm able to look back at those sad entries in my journal and be proud of the choice I made. Maybe that's my point: everyone has a choice when faced with a scary situation. The choice you make is up to you and only you (no one can make that decision for you). But no matter what you choose, you're the one who will ultimately have to live with the consequences of your decision.
I'm about 3 weeks away from meeting the consequences of my decision-- meeting the most beautiful person I'll ever know. And to me, that's certainly something to celebrate. Indeed: two hearts into one... even if it didn't happen the "right" way, and even if Baby B. will grow up knowing only one of those two original hearts, that little heart will be beating in the outside world in a few weeks, and its owner will be met with more love than anyone could ever imagine. To everyone who's expressed his or her love to me and Baby B: thank you. Baby B. is already the luckiest little person in the whole world.
Friday, January 6
"PREGNANCY IS MAGICAL" AND OTHER TALL TALES
If I’ve learned anything over the past 8 months, it's this: don’t believe everything you hear. People will tell you anything. People lie. Arm yourselves with knowledge, dear ones! Don’t believe it all! Below are some pearls of wisdom: 7 nasty lies (and 1 beautiful truth).
1) “Pregnancy is magical.”
Pregnancy is not all that magical. Pregnancy is a period of time where your physical body is conquered by some [seemingly unnatural] external force and transformed into something from a Michelin commercial. Parts are growing, sometimes painfully, often uncomfortably, and there’s nothing you can do about it. There's swelling and stretching. It didn't look like magic when I hobbled around with the sciatica of an 89-year-old man. The only thing magical in pregnancy is the hallucinogenic dream that haunts a mother-to-be every night. No doubt about it, each nightly REM cycle for me is like experiencing Woodstock. Pure magic. And a little spooky.
2) “Prenatal vitamins will make you feel fabulous.”
While this is partly true (if you’re into growing monstrous claw-like fingernails), one teeny capsule of folic acid made me feel as though I’d been drinking Four Loko for two days straight. *shudder*
3) “Everyone loves a pregnant girl.”
Nope. Not even close. While many people will “ooh” and “ahh” over your belly and ask you borderline-inappropriate questions about how the pregnancy is going, others will glance at your left hand (looking for a ring) and then walk away. People are far more excited about conventional/long-awaited pregnancies. Not to mention, people don't always think so highly of the newest employee at work who's also conveniently sporting a baby bump. Walking through my department, I could practically hear the emails going around: "Why on earth would they hire a pregnant girl?" "Why would you even accept a job if you're going on maternity leave immediately after starting?" Being the new girl at work is hard. Being the new (and pregnant!) girl at work is 100x harder.
4) “Every pregnant woman is radiant and glowing.”
Nope. My skin got spotty, and my hair got darker, coarser, and far less manageable. As much as you try, you’ll never convince me that it was fun when I had to start using a rubber band to hold the fly shut on my pants. That interim period where no one else can really tell you’re pregnant yet, but you’re looking awfully well-fed around the midsection? Not great. Suddenly it looks like your hands have been replaced by inflated latex gloves, and you can’t fit a shoe on your foot to save your life. True story: at my job, an employee must enter a 6-digit code and place his or her hand on a scanner to enter the building (and no, I don’t work at the Pentagon). My hands have recently become so swollen in the mornings that my handprint doesn’t register with the security system. Until they're able to re-scan my giant Hamburger Helper hands, security has to let me into the building every morning.
5) “It’s tempting and easy to eat for two.”
Whaaaaat? I’ve always had a very healthy appetite… just ask my sister Amanda, who I bombarded with “Are you gonna eat that?” for the first 20 years of my life. I was always excited about pregnancy, because it seemed like a free pass to eat whatever you want and not worry about what other people thought. However, I was sick for the first half of my pregnancy; and during the second half, MiniMon was occupying so much space in my belly that I was full almost instantly after beginning a meal. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve put on my fair share of weight, and I do eat. I’m not at all implying that I’m a skinny-mini mama-to-be. But I’m certainly not capable of eating for two. I wish I were.
6) “Pregnancy means pickles and ice cream.”
Who decided that? I’m not sure that I ate one pickle during my entire pregnancy. Maybe I did, but if so, I don’t remember it. I certainly didn’t crave them. And ice cream? Not a chance. For the first half, creamy/sweet was not a desirable combination (flu-like symptoms, people!). As I recall, there was one unfortunate instance where a coworker caught me standing in front of the gelato freezer at Meijer, crying uncontrollably (epitome of “crazy preggo?”). Other than that, I haven’t craved ice cream. As a matter of fact, I don’t even own an ice cream scoop. If I craved anything, it was pizza, pasta, Mexican food, and Coca-Cola straight from the fountain. Yummm. Heaven.
7) "Sure, you're exhausted for the first little bit, but then you get to enjoy those bursts of energy!"
Sorry, what? I didn't hear you. I was sleeping. In #7's defense, yes, I was exhausted for the first half. But I was exhausted for the next few months. And guess what? I'm still exhausted. I think back to a year ago, when I was able to stay up till 4 and get up to be at work by 9 (and be productive!). Now it's lights out by 9, wake up at 4 to use the bathroom, and back to bed until 6:30. My crazy wild life. No, I unfortunately never experienced those bursts of energy. I won't even eat soup, for fear that I may pass out facedown in the bowl and drown. Zzzzzzz.
1) "Pregnancy changes you."
Okay, there's absolutely no denying this one. Mentally, physically, emotionally... once you've experienced a pregnancy you will never be the same person. Whether planned or unplanned, whether joyous or tragic, whether it ends in parenting, adoption, miscarriage, or abortion: YOU WILL BE CHANGED. You suddenly consider things you never would have considered before. You suddenly enjoy things you never enjoyed before. You find yourself wandering the baby department at Target when you're bored. You start buying baby carrots and tiny bananas "just because they're cute." Soon you won't be able to think about anything but what color Baby's hair or eyes will be. You won't be able to concentrate on anything without wondering what his/her cry sounds like. As hard as you try, you'll never be able to remember exactly how life was before you were creating another life. You will be consumed by the pregnancy. It will take over your whole being. Not only will it supersize your hands and feet, it will supersize your soul. No longer are you living for yourself. You're living for the life inside you. Your heart is keeping time with the tiny heart that beats deep within you. There seems to be nothing natural about it, and yet it IS the most natural thing in the world. Congratulations, you're a mom.
1) “Pregnancy is magical.”
Pregnancy is not all that magical. Pregnancy is a period of time where your physical body is conquered by some [seemingly unnatural] external force and transformed into something from a Michelin commercial. Parts are growing, sometimes painfully, often uncomfortably, and there’s nothing you can do about it. There's swelling and stretching. It didn't look like magic when I hobbled around with the sciatica of an 89-year-old man. The only thing magical in pregnancy is the hallucinogenic dream that haunts a mother-to-be every night. No doubt about it, each nightly REM cycle for me is like experiencing Woodstock. Pure magic. And a little spooky.
2) “Prenatal vitamins will make you feel fabulous.”
While this is partly true (if you’re into growing monstrous claw-like fingernails), one teeny capsule of folic acid made me feel as though I’d been drinking Four Loko for two days straight. *shudder*
3) “Everyone loves a pregnant girl.”
Nope. Not even close. While many people will “ooh” and “ahh” over your belly and ask you borderline-inappropriate questions about how the pregnancy is going, others will glance at your left hand (looking for a ring) and then walk away. People are far more excited about conventional/long-awaited pregnancies. Not to mention, people don't always think so highly of the newest employee at work who's also conveniently sporting a baby bump. Walking through my department, I could practically hear the emails going around: "Why on earth would they hire a pregnant girl?" "Why would you even accept a job if you're going on maternity leave immediately after starting?" Being the new girl at work is hard. Being the new (and pregnant!) girl at work is 100x harder.
4) “Every pregnant woman is radiant and glowing.”
Nope. My skin got spotty, and my hair got darker, coarser, and far less manageable. As much as you try, you’ll never convince me that it was fun when I had to start using a rubber band to hold the fly shut on my pants. That interim period where no one else can really tell you’re pregnant yet, but you’re looking awfully well-fed around the midsection? Not great. Suddenly it looks like your hands have been replaced by inflated latex gloves, and you can’t fit a shoe on your foot to save your life. True story: at my job, an employee must enter a 6-digit code and place his or her hand on a scanner to enter the building (and no, I don’t work at the Pentagon). My hands have recently become so swollen in the mornings that my handprint doesn’t register with the security system. Until they're able to re-scan my giant Hamburger Helper hands, security has to let me into the building every morning.
5) “It’s tempting and easy to eat for two.”
Whaaaaat? I’ve always had a very healthy appetite… just ask my sister Amanda, who I bombarded with “Are you gonna eat that?” for the first 20 years of my life. I was always excited about pregnancy, because it seemed like a free pass to eat whatever you want and not worry about what other people thought. However, I was sick for the first half of my pregnancy; and during the second half, MiniMon was occupying so much space in my belly that I was full almost instantly after beginning a meal. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve put on my fair share of weight, and I do eat. I’m not at all implying that I’m a skinny-mini mama-to-be. But I’m certainly not capable of eating for two. I wish I were.
6) “Pregnancy means pickles and ice cream.”
Who decided that? I’m not sure that I ate one pickle during my entire pregnancy. Maybe I did, but if so, I don’t remember it. I certainly didn’t crave them. And ice cream? Not a chance. For the first half, creamy/sweet was not a desirable combination (flu-like symptoms, people!). As I recall, there was one unfortunate instance where a coworker caught me standing in front of the gelato freezer at Meijer, crying uncontrollably (epitome of “crazy preggo?”). Other than that, I haven’t craved ice cream. As a matter of fact, I don’t even own an ice cream scoop. If I craved anything, it was pizza, pasta, Mexican food, and Coca-Cola straight from the fountain. Yummm. Heaven.
7) "Sure, you're exhausted for the first little bit, but then you get to enjoy those bursts of energy!"
Sorry, what? I didn't hear you. I was sleeping. In #7's defense, yes, I was exhausted for the first half. But I was exhausted for the next few months. And guess what? I'm still exhausted. I think back to a year ago, when I was able to stay up till 4 and get up to be at work by 9 (and be productive!). Now it's lights out by 9, wake up at 4 to use the bathroom, and back to bed until 6:30. My crazy wild life. No, I unfortunately never experienced those bursts of energy. I won't even eat soup, for fear that I may pass out facedown in the bowl and drown. Zzzzzzz.
1) "Pregnancy changes you."
Okay, there's absolutely no denying this one. Mentally, physically, emotionally... once you've experienced a pregnancy you will never be the same person. Whether planned or unplanned, whether joyous or tragic, whether it ends in parenting, adoption, miscarriage, or abortion: YOU WILL BE CHANGED. You suddenly consider things you never would have considered before. You suddenly enjoy things you never enjoyed before. You find yourself wandering the baby department at Target when you're bored. You start buying baby carrots and tiny bananas "just because they're cute." Soon you won't be able to think about anything but what color Baby's hair or eyes will be. You won't be able to concentrate on anything without wondering what his/her cry sounds like. As hard as you try, you'll never be able to remember exactly how life was before you were creating another life. You will be consumed by the pregnancy. It will take over your whole being. Not only will it supersize your hands and feet, it will supersize your soul. No longer are you living for yourself. You're living for the life inside you. Your heart is keeping time with the tiny heart that beats deep within you. There seems to be nothing natural about it, and yet it IS the most natural thing in the world. Congratulations, you're a mom.
Thursday, January 5
WHY CAN'T IT BE LIKE THE RAPTOR?
The countdown is on. 26 days until D-day. Yep, I'm terrified. But not in the way I used to be. I'm terrified of labor. There's no turning back. Although I pray about 37 times per day, asking God to somehow get me a surrogate to do the whole "labor & delivery" part for me, something tells me that I'm going to have to end up doing it myself. DAMN.
People at work are starting to talk about the fact that I'm (very clearly) pregnant. It's actually been pleasant, for the most part. People are asking me when I'm due, pulling out their phones to show me pictures of the joy-bundles in their lives, holding doors for me, commenting on the fact that I'm still wearing heels every day (yay for me!).
The other day, I walked into the kitchenette at work and two men were in there, working on the water filtration system. The older one (maybe 60?) asked when I was due. Turns out his daughter is due the same day as me. The younger one (40-ish?), covered in tattoos, pulled his head out of the plumbing nightmare under the sink and told me all about his son. Pretty soon, both men were emotionally conveying their thoughts on the miracle of childbirth, asking if I had a birthplan, baring their souls on the ups and downs of parenting... It was unsolicited advice to be sure, and quite unexpected, but nonetheless brought a smile to my face.
And then there are the others.
My supervisor, for example, asked me what reason she should give when I'm gone for a few weeks. Do I want her to tell them that I'm on maternity leave? Confused, I responded, "Yes, I... would hope you tell them that I've had my baby and I'm on maternity leave." Not sure what else she expected me to say... Maybe that I'm in rehab? Nice. The pregnant girl is in rehab. Nothing like making a name for myself.
My all-time favorite: the lady who smells like old books. She had never once spoken to me (though we work in the same department). She and I were alone in the kitchenette. She slid up to me and asked, "So... are you going to apply for WIC?" Nothing else, not "I see you're having a baby, congratulations!" or "Are you by any chance worried about your financial future?" Like I said, we had never had a conversation prior to that. She didn't know my name, she certainly didn't know my story, and yet here she was, asking me if I was going to apply for government assistance. I was totally shocked by this, and responded with a simple, "Uhhh... I hadn't really thought about it." While I appreciate the fact that our government offers assistance to those who need it (and to those who don't), and while I understand that those systems are in place for a reason, I just don't feel like I exude an "I need welfare" aura. Nor do I think that sort of question is appropriate to ask a total stranger. Just saying. "Old Books Lady" and I haven't spoken since.
Then there are the people (both men AND women) who tell me their horror stories of labor/delivery. And every time I hear the word episiotomy, I throw up just a little bit (if you don't know what an episiotomy is, I strongly urge you NOT to look it up...). I wish labor were like a roller coaster. I remember the first time I went on the Raptor at Cedar Point. I was terrified, but everyone I was with had already ridden it. They all went on and on about how it can be scary, but once the ride begins, it's amazing. And they were absolutely right - the Raptor rocks. Labor, on the other hand... no one tells me it's as cool as the Raptor. From what I hear, it's scary and gross, and you leak, and you tear things, and this can go on for FORTY EIGHT HOURS. And apparently crossing your legs doesn't help. There's no Raptor-ness. They say it's unpleasant the entire time.
So that's what I have to look forward to. A possible 48-hour stretch of leaking, tearing, and utter grossness. You know, if it were possible, I'd pay $50 to make it a Raptor-like experience.
But something tells me that no matter how much I pay, it won't be any better for me than it's been for women over the last 5,000 years. Though everyone tells me how painful and unpleasant the labor/delivery experience is, they all end their sagas with the same thing: once it's over, and you're holding that tiny little person in your arms, you forget all about the labor. I guess I can safely say that I will probably NOT enjoy the labor (and yes, I shudder every time I say that word), but there's nothing I anticipate more than meeting the little person who's been growing with me over the last 8 months. And THEN the roller coaster starts.
People at work are starting to talk about the fact that I'm (very clearly) pregnant. It's actually been pleasant, for the most part. People are asking me when I'm due, pulling out their phones to show me pictures of the joy-bundles in their lives, holding doors for me, commenting on the fact that I'm still wearing heels every day (yay for me!).
The other day, I walked into the kitchenette at work and two men were in there, working on the water filtration system. The older one (maybe 60?) asked when I was due. Turns out his daughter is due the same day as me. The younger one (40-ish?), covered in tattoos, pulled his head out of the plumbing nightmare under the sink and told me all about his son. Pretty soon, both men were emotionally conveying their thoughts on the miracle of childbirth, asking if I had a birthplan, baring their souls on the ups and downs of parenting... It was unsolicited advice to be sure, and quite unexpected, but nonetheless brought a smile to my face.
And then there are the others.
My supervisor, for example, asked me what reason she should give when I'm gone for a few weeks. Do I want her to tell them that I'm on maternity leave? Confused, I responded, "Yes, I... would hope you tell them that I've had my baby and I'm on maternity leave." Not sure what else she expected me to say... Maybe that I'm in rehab? Nice. The pregnant girl is in rehab. Nothing like making a name for myself.
My all-time favorite: the lady who smells like old books. She had never once spoken to me (though we work in the same department). She and I were alone in the kitchenette. She slid up to me and asked, "So... are you going to apply for WIC?" Nothing else, not "I see you're having a baby, congratulations!" or "Are you by any chance worried about your financial future?" Like I said, we had never had a conversation prior to that. She didn't know my name, she certainly didn't know my story, and yet here she was, asking me if I was going to apply for government assistance. I was totally shocked by this, and responded with a simple, "Uhhh... I hadn't really thought about it." While I appreciate the fact that our government offers assistance to those who need it (and to those who don't), and while I understand that those systems are in place for a reason, I just don't feel like I exude an "I need welfare" aura. Nor do I think that sort of question is appropriate to ask a total stranger. Just saying. "Old Books Lady" and I haven't spoken since.
Then there are the people (both men AND women) who tell me their horror stories of labor/delivery. And every time I hear the word episiotomy, I throw up just a little bit (if you don't know what an episiotomy is, I strongly urge you NOT to look it up...). I wish labor were like a roller coaster. I remember the first time I went on the Raptor at Cedar Point. I was terrified, but everyone I was with had already ridden it. They all went on and on about how it can be scary, but once the ride begins, it's amazing. And they were absolutely right - the Raptor rocks. Labor, on the other hand... no one tells me it's as cool as the Raptor. From what I hear, it's scary and gross, and you leak, and you tear things, and this can go on for FORTY EIGHT HOURS. And apparently crossing your legs doesn't help. There's no Raptor-ness. They say it's unpleasant the entire time.
So that's what I have to look forward to. A possible 48-hour stretch of leaking, tearing, and utter grossness. You know, if it were possible, I'd pay $50 to make it a Raptor-like experience.
But something tells me that no matter how much I pay, it won't be any better for me than it's been for women over the last 5,000 years. Though everyone tells me how painful and unpleasant the labor/delivery experience is, they all end their sagas with the same thing: once it's over, and you're holding that tiny little person in your arms, you forget all about the labor. I guess I can safely say that I will probably NOT enjoy the labor (and yes, I shudder every time I say that word), but there's nothing I anticipate more than meeting the little person who's been growing with me over the last 8 months. And THEN the roller coaster starts.
Wednesday, January 4
POSITIVE...? QUITE THE CONTRARY.
Many women have, at some point in their lives, feared the little blue plus sign. I was one of them. They say the plus sign is a "positive" test result, but if you're not planning on a pregnancy, your reaction to that plus sign is anything but positive. Not long ago, I was talking to someone who was recently surprised by a positive pregnancy test. She's 30. She and her husband are educated. They already have kids. They have a beautiful home and great jobs. To sum it up, their life seems pretty sweet. However, they weren't planning on having another baby. She was telling me the story of what happened when they found out she was pregnant. She and her husband were both shocked. They were upset, they weren't talking, and they could hardly sleep. She woke up the next morning to find him gone. Naturally, the first thought that popped into her head was that he had left her. She felt alone and scared. As I listened to her story, I was choking back tears and my heart was breaking for her. I know what it's like to be in her position - to feel abandoned and terrified of what's to come. However, I'm very happy to say that her husband did NOT leave her; he had gone in early to work because he couldn't sleep. They're very happy now and the whole family is excited for baby-to-be :)
That story is proof: it doesn't matter if you're 16 or 26, married or unmarried, if you have kids or don't have kids. That plus sign can be hell.
I saw my plus sign on May 25. And I can assure you that what followed was NOT positive. I kept a journal for a few months starting immediately after I found out I was pregnant. Until recently, I refused to look in it because I was afraid of what I would find in there. And for good reason, because the entries were so drenched in hopelessness that they were nearly impossible for me to read through. I won't post the entire journal, but here are a few entries:
May 25, 2011: Dear Baby, today I took a pregnancy test and it was positive. Your daddy wasn't happy. I was very scared. We both just sat there and wondered what we're going to do. I don't know if I'm ready to be a mom. I don't know what to do.
May 26, 2011: Dear Baby, I don't know what to do. Your daddy didn't show up to work. He said we were over. He's looking for a way out.
May 27, 2011: Dear Baby, your daddy left today. He's never coming back. I'm not stupid.
June 9, 2011: Dear Baby, today I'm 24. And I feel so much older. Your daddy and I had plans after work today. But he left me at my apartment and drove off. On my birthday. I called and begged him to come back - I wish I were stronger. I felt very alone on my birthday. I'm 24, alone, and very sad. Happy birthday to me :(
Even as I type those entries now, seven months later, the tears still come. I was sure that I was alone in this. I was sure that my family would hate me. It's funny how an obstacle can seem so big that we can't see beyond it. I wish I had been able to see past the fear and uncertainty of my pregnancy back then - even if only just far enough to reach out for help. If there's one thing that I've heard over and over again since I shared my news, it's this: don't be afraid to ask for help.
We're human. We are not wired to handle everything alone. We are social creatures. We're designed to support and be supported. And after all my ups and downs these past few months, I solemnly swear that I will never try to handle anything alone again. Gelato and sobfests in my car didn't fix the problem. It wasn't until July 18 when I decided to ask for help.
July 18, 2011: Dear Baby, I called your aunt Amanda and told her everything. She was very supportive and she was very mad at your daddy for telling me that his choice was the only choice. I cried to her on the phone for hours. I cried and cried untili it felt like I couldn't cry anymore. She cried, but only because I was alone and had been alone in this for so long.
My sister Amanda was my saving grace. She loved me and helped me see that this was not the end of the world. After I told her what I was going through, life was better. Though it took a while for that plus sign to truly feel POSITIVE, I was on the right track. I just needed a little help. Sometimes that's all we need.
I write this to show what an amazing gift family can be. When support is needed, turn to your family. Your family will love you unconditionally, no matter what. Your family will bring you back to reality and help you back on your feet. There's nothing negative about that.
Monday, January 2
BREAKING NEWS
The responses from the letter were absolutely remarkable - phone calls, text messages, cards, and emails overflowing with unconditional love, support, and encouragement. Looking back, I can't imagine how things would have gone if I hadn't written the letter that brought on such an amazing response from my family and friends.To my family:
I’m writing this letter to my nearest and dearest. I’ve got some big news, and it’s best that you all hear at the same time—and that you hear from me instead of through the proverbial grapevine.
I’m expecting a baby! I’ve recently shared this news with my mom and dad, my sisters and brothers-in-law, and my grandmas. After telling my immediate family, I wanted all of you to be the first to know. My due date is January 30, so Baby Bierlein will be arriving in just under 5 months!
I’m sad to say that the baby’s father will probably not be in the family picture. Obviously, I never expected to be on a journey like this—and there will be struggles—but I know it will be easier with the help of my amazing family. I know they will surround me (and Baby Bierlein) with unconditional love and tremendous support as I raise this child on my own. They have already showered me with love and support, and for that I’m so very grateful.
You’re receiving this letter because you’re very special to me. I know that this is probably not what you had hoped for me. And although I’m nervous and scared to be headed down this road on my own, I’m also excited to be bringing a baby into the world. No matter the circumstances, a baby is a miracle and a blessing, and my family and I are going to celebrate this baby’s life. We give thanks to God for the gift—a surprise indeed, but nevertheless a wonderful surprise. Please keep me and my family in your thoughts and prayers. It’s not going to be an easy journey, and Baby and I will be needing lots of well-wishes, loving thoughts, and support from our family.
I love you all dearly, and I’m happy to share this news with you. Every day, I’m more and more thankful for my wonderful family. You’re all so special to me, and I thank God for each of you.
I couldn't deny that people loved me, and they loved my baby too. And although I was still terrified, disappointed in myself, and angry at my boyfriend who had chosen to walk away, I suddenly realized that I wasn't alone in this. I would never be alone, and I would always be loved. I was on my way to happiness.
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