Week 40! Looks like we made it...

Well, I will just check in here to assure you that my son is not yet born. Still we wait. He is only due today, but I read somewhere that at 37 weeks he was full term, so I've nievely expected him anytime since then. Finally, we've arrived to the date the doctor gave me, the final day of January. Dave got me a garnet for Christmas, the January birthstone, so ... come on, Haven!

Dave is being awesome and keeping me calm. I think he's waiting with baited breath to hear something like, "A contraction just ripped through my body and my water broke! Get me to the hospital!" Until then, he is on the edge of his seat. Every time I drop something, and I am quite clumsy these days, he checks to see if it was me or an object that just hit the floor. Every time I heave into another position while I'm asleep he reaches over to make sure I did not fall out of bed. He's my watchman.

While I enjoy being taken care of by Dave, if one more person asks me how I feel (because they can't think of another question to throw out at the oompa loompa walking toward them), they might get this newsflash: "Fine, now leave me the eff alone!" Other phrases to avoid:

• "You're still here?!" I get that one each morning at about 8 AM when I saunter (what? I can still saunter) into work. I also got it about a dozen times when I showed up for class last night.
• "When is your last day [at work]?" Obviously it wasn't yesterday.
• "You haven't dropped yet." Shut it, I don't see MD after your name.
• "My wife was two weeks late with all of our kids." .......!
  
  

My mom has assured me that nobody stays pregnant forever, and, as the Indigo Girls say, "You'll listen to your mama if you have a lick of sense."

Special Entry: What About Me?

The following is a special entry by none other than Dave ...

I cant tell you how aggravated I am right now. I just spent a half hour making this post, writing it out and being funny (as I normally am) and I press 1 button, and POOF gone... buh bye... You would think working in the internet industry I would of.. umm backed up my post. but NOOOOOOOO. Sigh.... well, here's take 2.

Where was I...

SOooo... Hi, I'm Dave. Jen's awesome husband. And I just wanted to drop by and say hello and quell all of the rumors that Jen is married to a hunk/hot/perfect husband. I'm not perfect... I have a lump on my right pinky toe. j/k. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I'm doing well... Well, we werent asking about you, you say? Well, let me just tell you this! You probably all know that Jen had a great pregnancy, with no sickness, mood swings or all the other pregnancy related side effects. But did you know that I had them?!?!? huh? huh? That's right I, EYE, ME, YOURS TRUELY, DAVID STE.... erm ignore that, Had them! Well, not the sickness, but I had the mood swings and hot flashes and stuff, and let me tell you they were no fun at all. There were 2 weeks straight where noone would talk to me at work. But that's all gone. Poor Dave, you say... and I say... ITS ABOUT TIME I GET SOME SYMPATHY! =P

Jen and I are so excited, and can't wait for Haven to come to the world. I dont remember if she disclosed the name in her blog yet, so if she didn't, ignore that last sentence. This weekend might be it! So, I recently have received new gift that I guess comes with being a parent, which I'm going to refer to as my "Spider Sense". In the movie Spiderman, good ole Peter Parker (Spider-man) has heightened senses and abilities, and he refers to them as his spider senses. So here is mine. The past two mornings I have been awoken by fog horns. Fog horns, you say? Yes, fog horns. My alarm clock miraculously has increased its volume by 2000 decibals, and insists on walking over to my ear to let me know how it's feeling. It's really wierd, b/c from the 1st-5th snooze I didnt realize it was my alarm clock, all I knew was when i slammed my clock, the fog horn stopped. It wasnt until the 6th snooze that I was like, "Holy Crap! That's my alarm clock!". Jen too has started honing her spidey senses, and she woke up in the middle of the night a few nights ago to some strange noise in the other room. The noise that happened to be my computer that has been on for like 2 years....

I find it funny when people ask me, "Are you going to watch?" I normally stare at them for a few seconds, and respond with a, "Are you joking?" or an "ARE YOU JOKING?!?!?" I can almost stomach ERs horrible interpretation of the operating room. BUT PULEASE PEOPLE! The doctor has enough to worry about without prying my butt off the floor. I'm making sure that the nurses set up a suspended sheet to encompass Jen's upper body and myself, a chair for me to sit down in and that they do not talk to us until everything is done, and cleaned up. I just don't need to see that. SERIOUSLY. Keep me as far away from the landing zone as possible, but close enough to comfort Jen.

Well I think your all probably tired of me already, so I'll jet. I just wanted to thank all of you who read and post and call and write. You all mean so much to us, and your comfort, and advice are amazing. We appreciate all that you share, and cant wait to share our newest miracle to you.

Hugs

Dave

Week 39: Employed Moms

I have discussed this before, but it is crawling all over my skin and giving me the urge to scream erratic and unhelpful retaliation. So I will lay it here. Today a woman who will remain nameless (and I will describe by saying that we have no personal relationship, a slight professional relationship and she is not one of my clients) was the source of another working-mom comment for me to add to my stash.

First of all, I was on the phone when she walked up and stood at my office door. No, I was not speaking to one of you. I was speaking to a client's parent and the conversation was confidential. I tried to communicate "Walk away, lady!" with my eyes, but to no avail. I turned to face the wall until the phone call ended. I believe the woman came simply to gawk at my belly, but guised it in, "Oh, how exciting, congratulations ... blah blah blah." (Note to all: If you just want to see how much weight I've gained, just stare at me and move on after a moment, you aren't obligated to make conversation.) She went on to say how happy she was that she was at home when her children were young and how much she would have missed spending all of those years with them. "I'm so glad I didn't wo--, well, I'm glad I was home. You know, you just don't get those years back."

I knew she was trying to say, "Quit your job." I am very good at deciphering this message as I have seen costumed in many languages, dialects and tones during the past nine months. Nobody says it straight, but it is clear. Eventually I was able to nod-and-smile her out of my office.

I feel no need to justify the reasons that I want to be an employed mom, but they are real and they are valid. What I find infuriating is that not one person has asked Dave why he is not going to quit his job to be at home with the baby. No one has made sly comments to him that compare his desire to have a successful career to his desire to be a good father. I know the reasons are rooted in the traditions and culture of America and Europe, but there is a tribe in South America in which the women hunt and gather and the men stay home to take care of the house and babies and are considered sensitive and emotional. I believe that puts a wrench in the theory that women are created to be homemakers. I do not live in that South American tribe, however. As an employed mom I will simply have to learn to strain out the thoughtless comments.

I think that people impose their opinions on others in every part of parenting. It seems like people welcome themselves to intrude on this part of their friend's, coworker's and stranger's lives. What makes this an okay thing to be bossy about?

That is all I will vent for the moment. And breathe, two, three, four. In closing, I would like to add a sincere thank you to my friends who have been supportive (or at least silent) about my decision to work. I appreciate that while we may walk different paths, we can still support each other.

Week Whatever .... Pass the Tissues!

Everybody knows women are sometimes moody and everbody knows hormones go haywire during pregnancy. I continue to feel relatively level headed (you might want to confirm with Dave - he may feel differently), but the tiniest things make me cry. Everything is just so darn touching.

I now have to avoid all music by Mark Schultz. Who? you ask. I don't know. I do not know anything about him except that the two songs that the Christian radio station plays by him bring to me the point of sobbing on a consistent basis. They are Letters from War and Walking her Home. Just when I got to the point of being able to appreciate Letters from War without crying, he came out with similar-toned Walking her Home. Oh my gosh. Come on. I was on my lunch break I was crying. I changed the station to retain a bit of my dignity (and to avoid redface, the ferocious aftermath of my tears). You might ask why I was listening to the Christian radio station in the first place ... I have hope that they will select better music eventually, that's why. Hope.

I also cried while watching Click. Yeah, it was very touching.

A few weeks ago our pastor played a short video during the service that made me tear up. When I saw a few other people wiping tears from their eyes I lost it and did not regain my composure until sometime that afternoon.

So ... will the baby have a tender heart? How could he not - Dave and I are both so easily touched (though, I will say, Dave did not cry when we watched Click).

Week 38.6: Come out and see the world.

Tomorrow I will be 39 weeks pregnant, according to typical measures of due date calculation. According to my calculations and hunches, the baby is due on Tuesday January 23, which makes me now almost 40 weeks pregnant. But who am I to contradict the ultra sound? We shall see who is right - me or modern medicine.

Since the baby can push the ribs on the right side of my body, my left hip bone and scrunch my lungs and intestines all at the same time, it seems he's big enough to come of there! When is this supposed "lightening" coming that I keep reading about?! (Readers who have not been pregnant: lightening refers to the way it feels when the baby gets in the diving position and no longer compresses the mother's lungs.) I can catch my breath only slightly better than before he descended into position, but that's mostly because I now spend the majority of my time parked like a beached whale.

In some ways it feels like I'm planning my departure from the planet (and new moms may tell me that I am). Each day at work I make sure everything is caught up and in place should I not return the next morning. Each evening that Dave and I have to do whatever we please is savored as if it is our last for many moons. At each meal I think, if I go into labor in the next few hours I might not get to eat until sometime tomorrow! (And I pack in all I can, until my compressed intestines threaten to fight back.)

I have no ankles, my knees and chin are increasingly less visible, I cannot get enough water, the thought of moving for more than an hour or two brings me to tears, I am desperate for our apartment to be spotless and the most common greeting I hear when I walk into a room is, "You're still here?" Come on child, take me to the hospital where we will sleep and be waited on hand and foot for three days (yes, that is my illusion of what labor, delivery and recovery will be, please don't ruin it.)

Week 37: Reflection

My friend has a magnet on her refridgerator that says It's only a matter of time until we become our parents. I don't know...

I imagine my parents look at me sometimes and wonder where I came from. They must wonder how this phlegmatic, career-minded, future-planning, carry-out food eating, television-loving girl is a product of their tree-hugging home. I think I am what my father has always called a "yuppie." Maybe this total projection, but maybe not.

My parents are hippies and they always will be. It it is not a lifestyle but a mindset that was a package deal with being young in the seventies. To a hippie freedom, creativity and independance are the basis for all decisions. Before they met, my parents had both hitchhiked accross the United States. They bummed whatever they could, worked when they needed money and then moved on to the next town. Then they found Jesus and each other and settled down as much as a hippie can ever settle down.

I was raised to be different, I think that's why I am so comfortable looking and acting like every other American. I will always be organically dissimilar from mainstream Americans because that is what my parent created. They wanted my sisters, brother and I to stand out in our spirituality and overall world view. Toward this end we were not allowed to watch much television, consume products made with white flour, play with Barbies, celebrate Halloween, God forbid we ask about the Smurfs, and one of my high school academic years was literally spent reading a set of encyclopedias. Or not. We were never given simple answers to questions. The reply to most inquiries was "Look it up." My parents wanted us to think outside the box, but I have found the box a safe place that I only leave when nessecary.

I wonder what things Dave and I will teach our child that he will shrug off once he leaves home. I wonder what will stick to him no matter if he wants them to or not. There are more than a few things my parents taught me that I will always treasure as inherit parts of my belief system. Here are some of them that I hope to pass on to my own son:

• God is loving and always available. Get to know Him.
• Be kind.
• Love to learn.
• Nurture and prioritize family relationships.
• Share the reason for your hope.
• Follow through with promises.
• Help people.
• Be a part of church family.
• Finish what you start.
• Read the Bible.
• Show affection.
• Remember people who do not have as much as we do and help them when you can.
• Discover and explore your talents.
• Eat healthy.
• Don't believe everything you hear.
• Enjoy your life.
• Travel.
• Smile at people.
• and of course, it's okay to be different!

Thanks M & D for teaching me so much. There are plenty more things to add to this list, but I will close with this: God did well putting me with you.

Week 37: Bedside Manner

I love my doctor - he's both attentive and relaxed. His reassurance makes the long waits and curt nurses worth it. Today, though, he was out and I had to see one of the other doctors in the practice. Here is one of several short and frustrating conversations we had during my visit:

Me: Is it normal that I've gotten dramatically more tired in the past week or so? I have to take a break after every little thing I do.
Doctor: You're going to be tired for the next five years.

Wow, thanks, that's so helpful, the empathy is touching. Pray that it's not this guy who is on call when I go into labor. Seriously.

Week 37: Homemakery.

Three weeks from today I could be screaming in terror as our baby comes into the world. Or doped up and laughing as we watch the contractions on a monitor. Or waiting impatiently for something to happen. We'll see.

We have been preparing like crazy people. Me more crazy, Dave just preparing. This weekend I took on the bathroom. I junked all of the expired medicine and organized everything else. Everything is under the sink, categorized and labeled in zip top bags. Only the daily nessesities are in the medicine cabinet. On Sunday I looked under the sink and realized that it looks like a crazy person had their way with our toiletries.


Last weekend I transformed a mound of gift bags and boxes into a bedroom. Dave put the dresser together and I finally had a place for the baby's extensive wardrobe. It took me a couple of hours to sort all of the little laundry! I read every lable and washed everything accordingly. I made his bed, ironed the ruffle, set up the mobile, organized the shelves, folded the blankets ... and here is the final project! We still need some art for the walls ... but I think he'll understand if there isn't anything on the walls when he gets home. He's pretty chill.


I obviously need to hone my skills with the digital camera in the next few weeks. This photo is kind of dark - but you get the idea.

Fun stuff! I

wonder how long these shelves will look like this ... shall we take bets?

My grandmother made that blue blanket - I love it.

And no, the photo in the yellow frame is not our baby. I doubt our child will have blond hair.

I wonder which will be his favorite....

Lastly, this is the current resident of the baby's bedroom. She will be displaced in the next few weeks and I don't think she's too happy about it. She's had our full attention for the past couple of years and she doesn't look thrilled at the prospect of somebody taking her place in our home. She gave me the evil eye for hours as I worked in "her" bedroom.

Week 36: Look how far we've come

I wish I could have sealed the moment in an envelop and mailed back in time to the apartment I shared with Janet. We would have been happy to see all of the love and fun and promise our futures held.

There I was, hours before the clock turned the year to 2007. I was eight months pregnant, doing my hair and make up in Janet's dresser mirror. I could hear three-year-old Andy call his mom "Sir."

"Girls are ma'ams, boys are sirs." She corrected.

"Why?" He quipped.

"That's just the way it is."

"Why?"

"Go ask Daddy."

We were going with our husbands and her two sons to Ikea to buy a dresser for my soon-to-be-born son. Just that simple clip would have turned us both giddy with excitement--Really? We get married?! And to Dave and Andy! Yes!! We have kids? We're still friends?! Awesome!

Janet and I moved in together at a time when we needed to laugh through many disappointments and frustrations. It was 1999. Every month we scraped together $590 to pay rent for our large two-bedroom basement apartment. We ate Ramen noodles and microwave pop corn for most meals. My parents had recently separated and she she had just gone through a traumatic break up. A glimpse into our future would have been great.

If we had known the good stuff that was coming, I wonder if we would have dreamed as much. I wonder if we would have worked so hard to heal and to trust. I wonder if we would enjoy our present every day treasures as much as we do.