.thoughts on waiting and preparations.

The floors are finished! Hurrah! We made it through that major project with only a few hiccups along the way (and they weren’t even Rabbit’s this time). R handled everything beautifully, as I was either working or sleeping during much of the project’s completion. She has moved every book and item of furniture on our ground floor at least twice during the last seventy-two hours. rock.star. Also, R’s family came to town today for lunch, which doubled as our Christmas celebration together. We had a very nice time, received some lovely gifts (including a really nice baby food maker), and took up a pool about Rabbit’s birth date, time, weight, and length. It’s hard to believe that we’re only five days out from the first date prediction!

I’m including some photos of the finished product (please forgive me if this is overkill; we’re very stoked):

In other preparations for Rabbit’s arrival, R has put back several weeks worth of postpartum deliciousness. It’s hard to appreciate the depth of food that she managed to get into our modest freezer:

The creepiness that is being able to see our backyard in January. We should be under a deluge of snow right now. It’s just not right:

38-weeks along and we’re still quite fond of one another ;-)

The 38-week belly. More on this below:

My body has CHANGED over the course of the last few weeks. I can barely imagine how I will continue to grow over the next two weeks if we carry to our due date. I can’t even wrap my brain around going overdue (I understand that this is a strong possibility, but I choose denial for the time being). I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to prioritize concerning my physical self postpartum. Like so many things in life, there will be decisions that need to be made concerning my body, but much of it will be left up to a concoction of circumstance, hormones, metabolism, and other elements that are just beyond my grasp of control. Preparing for parenthood feels very similar to this. I have no idea what kind of individual this baby will be. Therefore, I have no idea what kind of parents he’ll need us to be. This unknowing is compounded by having no idea who our other children will be or how they will come into our family. Will Rabbit be smart? Strong? Attractive? Will he have special needs (medical or emotional)? Will he be social or introverted? Prone to anxiety, depression, or addiction? Will he be well-adjusted? Will he have a lot of questions about his genetics? About his donor? Will that never really matter all that much to him? Will he have a stronger bond to one parent or another? And our future children; what of them? The things I don’t know fill up the floor to the sky. I could fit the things I do know into my right shoe (and even those are subject to change at a moment’s notice). There are so many decisions to be made in preparing for parenthood, but I recognize that we’ve only begun to scratch the surface. From choosing natural childbirth, breastfeeding, and cloth diapers to making choices about vaccines and diet, limiting consumer culture’s lechery, cutting back on sugar, cutting out television and video games, and figuring out how to foster a love of learning, of reading, and of art. How do we recognize and encourage innate talents, especially when they might be totally foreign to me and R (like classical music or organized sports)? How do we raise a compassionate, sensitive boy in a world that teaches men to be cutthroat and dominating? How do we instill values like feminism, equality, and generosity without giving our kids resentment against us or the morals that we support? I suppose we’ve had too much time to think about the “what-ifs” and no time yet spent in the “activity” of daily parenting.

Well Rabbit, the floors are finished, so you can make your appearance at your convenience ;-)

 

built for this

J and I visited our beloved nurse practitioner yesterday, and she told J how well she’s carrying. She added, “you’re totally built for this. You have the kind of build that looks like you’re carrying an eight-pound baby when, in fact, you’re carrying a ten-pound baby.”

Hilarious (more for me, perhaps, than for J). And I agree: my wife is built for this. She’s been incredible throughout this pregnancy, and I have so much faith in her ability to bring our son safely into the world. I’m way way proud.  

So here are a few thirty-seven-week photos. What do you think, folks? Eight pounds? Ten pounds? Next week or two weeks overdue? Five hours of labor or fifty? (Don’t guess fifty. That would be rude.)

 

love lists

Being the ritual-loving folks we are, J and I have a lot of traditions for welcoming in a new year, one of which is to write (and keep in an album) our happiest moments from the year we’re finishing, plus a list of the moments we’re grateful to have behind us. Though this is usually my favorite New Year’s Eve task, I found it pretty painful to do this year. To help pull me out of that sadness, then, I thought I might write a different kind of list here.

For about fifteen years, I’ve made love lists. Not all the time, but when I think of it. Just a list – usually twenty items long – of things I adore. The only real rule is that nothing on the list can be a proper noun. So, for example, I couldn’t say “Boston,” but I could say, “walking in big cities.”

Once in awhile, I find an old love list and am struck by both the things that have changed and the things that have stayed the same. For example, a list from a decade ago might say “rare steak.” Though I can still remember the pleasure rare steak once brought me (can still almost taste it), it wouldn’t find its way to a love list written by my long-time vegetarian self. Grey, rainy days, however, always make my list. I can’t imagine a time when they wouldn’t.

Here then – in recognition of the ways this past year has changed me, but also in hopeful optimism about the year to come – is the last love list I’ll write before our son arrives. The last love list of my pre-parenting years.

1. heavy, cotton sheets
2. free-standing bathtubs
3. grey, rainy days
4. old door knobs
5. cats
6. vulnerability
7. happy marriages
8. community (in all its incarnations)
9. red wine
10. discovering new novels and rereading old standbys
11. local/ethical food
12. dreaming of parenthood
13. organized spaces
14. the haphazard nature of soup-making
15. city walking
16. photo booths
17. creative parenting
18. stacks of baby blankets
19. intimacy
20. warm slippers

Happy brand new year to all of you! May 2012 bring us all much joy and wonderment.

 

.thirty-six weeks.

As this week’s ticker on the side of the blog reads, “Our baby is ready to launch.” It does feel like the Rabbit is attempting to launch himself outside of my body, though not through the usual channel! He’s been a strong, kicking, wiggle worm. It’s impossible to believe that he will likely be joining us within the next four weeks.

R and I, being the somewhat ambitious women that we are, have decided to lay new hardwood floors on the ground floor of our home next week. I could take the time to explain our logic, but suffice it to say we’re very pragmatic folks, so it’s all very sensical! Additionally, R also would like to actually start her semester off by meeting with her class at least once in January. Thus, we’re really hoping that Rabbit will stay put until at least January 11th (floors finished; classes begun). Since that’s only 38 weeks and 2 days, we’ve got a pretty good chance of making it to that goal. On the flip side, though, it would be VERY nice for him to come by the end of January. I can’t imagine, as so many of our friends have lately, carrying two weeks late. It sounds exhausting and anxiety-producing. Here’s hoping for a timely Rabbit delivery!

In other news, we had a very nice Christmas yesterday with lots of indulgence. We spent the day with our dear friend, A, and her two young adult kids. We ate Chinese food and lots of dessert, watched movies, and basically did nothing else all day. It was lovely. Rabbit was performing some of his “baby tricks,” so R decided to capture it on film. You can see the video here.

Here’s hoping that all of our friends, family, and blog-folks are having relaxing, joyful holidays!

 

waiting for a bus*

The discourse surrounding my last post has blown me away. It means the world to me to have such a widespread community with which to talk through these incredibly important issues. More on that to follow, as you’ve all given me a lot to consider.

This post, however, is all about fun.

So here it is: our family in the making. Thanks to our truly generous and talented photographer, W, who captured first our wedding and now J’s belly, and who will be with us to capture this little one’s early life when he gets here. If anyone wants details about W or her work, let me know. I could talk about how brilliant she is all day!

* Our dear friend Adrienne says that in the bench photo, it looks like we’re waiting for a bus. Indeed we are: the parenthood bus. And it is en route! :)

 

nearly thirty-three weeks with a gestating rabbit

My son is in there! He’ll have been there for thirty-three weeks on Monday. Whenever dance music comes on, he starts to move. I adore him.

We got this guy from my cousin L, and I’ve been calling him Sue. (I like Johnny Cash.) My mom predicted that one day soon, we’ll have to drive back some forty miles when we realize we’ve left him and Rabbit won’t stop crying.

We’ve named this fella Shmuel. He arrived yesterday care of MTB, a SUPER talented (and loving) friend of ours. I alternate snugging Shmuel and Sue. Shmuel tagged along for our maternity photo session today.

This is our clearly mistreated boy cat wearing the rabbity-eared hat that MTB sent with Shmuel. (Alternate caption: Further evidence that it’s time.)

Back in May, I told J that once it was winter again – once it had been spring, and summer, and fall – our baby would come to us. When she walked in all dusted with snow last week, I felt the nearness of his arrival.

Our SHARE Support Group’s holiday memorial service was last night. We hung this swirly purple and white glass ornament for E. (C: This sphere feels like the sea.) Seeing all those ornaments go up on two full trees was powerful/heartbreaking. J watched one man light five different candles. Five. E’s ornament came home with us; I’ll hang it in Rabbit’s room this week.

Between the blogosphere and our natural childbirth classes, we know about a trillion expecting couples. As of this evening, we’re eagerly anticipating the arrival of three overdue babies (two here in our town plus the folks over at Parenting Cricket). What a world.

Happy December, friends!

 

giving thanks

Troublesome origins aside, I adore Thanksgiving. No material gifts; just gratitude, family, and good good food. Here (in no particular order) are just a few of my reasons for giving thanks on this day.

• You people. Friends. Family. Blog friends, whom I love from afar. Your words, your care, got me through this year, and then through this past week of panic. This week in particular, some of you came and spent whole days with me when my fear got bad. Some of you introduced me to paths of less suffering. So many of you listened to my fears, my struggles, without judgment. Thank you for your generosity and your compassion. It has not gone unnoticed.

• My health. All of my labs this week came back great. That rare disease? Not in my body. It’s hard for me to perceive my body as healthy and strong, but I’ll get there again. I am devoted to getting there again. To trusting. This week revealed some wounds. Now I’m ready to heal them.

• My wife, who as I type this is working on a vegan walnut lentil loaf in the kitchen. It’s an ineffable thing, the sense that you are understood by someone. That you understand someone. I am blessed by this marriage dance.

• My mom, who’s spending her Thanksgiving here with us, helping us prepare for Rabbit. Who bought J and me Christmas Eve pajamas for the last time this year (since next year, that tradition will move on to the boy). Whose presence this year has been of tremendous comfort. Family matters. Family matters a lot.

• Emmett Ever, who was with us last Thanksgiving, and who we carry now. I’ve always loved Yeats’s idea that “nothing can be sole or whole / that has not been rent.” I just never quite understood it before our girl.

• Rabbit River. Who kept his mama and his mum up for most of the night last night. And who is nearing four pounds. And who has the sweetest energy. And who I believe I was meant to parent.

• Rabbit’s donor. I don’t think about him a lot, but he’s on my mind today. Though we may never meet him, he is our family now. And I love him for his gift to us and for his silent presence.

• Gratitude itself. And joy. And the ability (struggle though it sometimes is) to be present. And wisdom, even when it comes through painful experience. And growing pains. And surrender. And vulnerability, even when it feels like it might break you.

• The greatness that is J’s 31-week belly, and the way it peeks out from this flannel shirt.

The mobile above Rabbit’s crib. The way it dances in an apparently still room.

The stained glass full of concentric circles. Circles, which feel like life to me. Circles, which will surround our little boy in the space where he will begin his life soon.

Thank you all for reading. For being a part of our family this way. For the things you share with us. For community. Happy Thanksgiving.

 

attachment living

It’s been an intense few weeks. On top of the typical post-midterm craziness of any academic semester (made more intense for me this semester because I’m teaching an upper-level course I’ve never taught before and trying to write as much of my dissertation as possible before Rabbit comes), I’ve been working on applications for dissertation completion funding. I’m applying for three different fellowships, and if I receive one of them, I won’t have to teach next year; I’ll be able to focus exclusively on my writing. This sounds like an unimaginable luxury to me. Really: it’s almost too delightful to consider. Throughout my course work, I thought of the dissertation as a means to an end – one last difficult requirement – but now I find myself deeply devoted to the work itself. I love the female (and two queer male) characters I’m writing about. I sense their power, their strength. But when they’ve been written about by other critics, it’s been to point out how powerless they are. So I feel a responsibility to offer them a different reading. A recognition of what has gone unnoticed. These characters have become real to me, and I love them both as individuals, and as a collective body of feminine power that has been long.long.long overlooked.

This funding would give me time with them. If I don’t get it, I’ll still have time, so the situation isn’t dire. (And I should add: I fully recognize this as a luxury problem. I mean, who gets a year off to just think and read and write? It’s an almost absurd privilege, and I see that.) But I long for it, and that’s disconcerting to my don’t.get.too.attached.to.anything.that.isn’t.yours cautionary self. These are very competitive. I met with a friend of J’s (from the private college they both work at), and she was tremendously helpful. But she also (inadvertently) made me aware of how different my public-school world is from her liberal-arts-college reality. There’s a different kind of grooming. Money begets money. These fellowships don’t just go to the neediest applicants, they go to the best applicants. And “best” means “best equipped to present oneself in a particular way.” This takes training. Grooming. So while it makes sense that I might not get these because they’re competitive – because others may have better (or more important) projects in the works – it makes me sad to think about not getting them because I didn’t go about applying in the right way. Anyway, I came away from the meeting feeling defeated, but I’m still trying. And though it seems dangerous to want this funding so much, I’m letting myself do it anyway. If there’s one thing I’ve learned this year, it’s that I can adapt. If (in the spring) I find out that I didn’t get any of them, I’ll go to plan B. Or plan C. And I’ll find things to love about those plans too.

Anyway, this process has made these past weeks stressful, which in turn made yesterday AMAZING. We took our last road trip as a two-person family to a favorite city of ours. J and I are so happy in cities. Every chance we get to travel, we find our way to one, and we eat, and coffee.shop, and people.watch, and stroll and stroll and stroll. Like Clarissa Dalloway in Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, I’ll take city walking over country walking any day. Yesterday was even more special, though, because we splurged on a 3D/4D ultrasound of Rabbit River! Seeing him was incredible. Afternoons are his sleepy time, and he adorably refused to lower his hands from his face, but the tech still got some wonderful images. We are both so entirely in love. There is no holding back out of fear. No wishing things were different. There is only the sense that this baby is our son, and that we are meant to parent him, to help him become…well…him.

Here he is, left hand pressed sweetly to forehead:

And sleeping away:

And left hand, right arm, face, skinny ribs and all (I suspect this boy will be long and thin):

I said at one point that I think he’s going to have a big nose, and the tech said, “No! His nose is cute.” She doesn’t know how much I adore big noses. :)

After the ultrasound (which was after an amazing gourmet-Chinese lunch), we headed into the city, and we practically fell upon one of those upscale baby stores that basically amounts to crack for new parents and parents.to.be. We oooohed and aaaahed our way through TWO stories of gorgeous baby accoutrement, test drove our stroller (which J’s mom bought us, but which we’ve yet to see as she’s giving it to us at the shower next weekend), tried out the baby sling I picked for myself after lots of internet research, and purchased Rabbit’s first pair of baby leg warmers and a striped kimono-style onesie that we couldn’t bear to leave behind.

Then we hit a local coffee shop for a chocolate croissant and two espressos (J’s decaf, mine regular), where we watched the seemingly thousand new babies/new parents, and stared and stared at the ultrasound photos of our sweet boy.

After that, we walked around for awhile in search of an ornament for Emmett Ever. Our SHARE support group hosts a holiday memorial every year, where parents can hang an ornament on a tree to remember their lost babies. We chose a blown glass sphere with purple and white swirls that has a distinctive seashell-esque look.

We also discovered an oil and vinegar shop, where we sampled about a dozen aged balsamic vinegars and brought home one bottle of white balsamic (which we learned is less sweet/more acidic than the darker stuff).

Then we ate at a favorite Jewish deli and headed home. On the drive back, we listened to music that made me think a lot about E. I cried for awhile, not because I miss her or because I wish she were here, but because I love her. Because my connection to her creates an ache that is painfully sweet. Because I can love her and be happy at the same time.

So all told, a GREAT GREAT day, and a much needed break. I am so in love with my wife, who is carrying this baby with about a thousand times more grace than I could have done. It’s funny, we thought we knew which roles we would thrive in: I would be a better GP because I’m feminine; she would rock out the NGP role because she isn’t so into the girly side of girliness. But the truth is, all of that was culturally dictated. And none of that has anything to do with what it takes to nurture a child (via either role). None of that was about our particular strengths and weaknesses. In truth, I’m so well suited to non-gestational parenting. The choice it requires. The care it allows me to give my whole family. And J is brilliant at the gestational role. She’s heartier than I am. Less anxious. I don’t believe in an interventionist God, but it’s impossible not to recognize some wisdom to all of this that surpasses our limited understanding.

 

26 weeks

Great friends. Autumnal feast.

Rabbit and a squash.

Rabbit’s mom wears combat boots.

 

seventeen

…is the number of weekends, counting this one, that we have until Rabbit’s due date. And of course, he could come early. We could have fewer. Since once Rabbit’s here, he’ll be pretty central to how we spend our weekends, these now feel sacred to me. We’ve longed for a child to parent for years, and we still long for that, but we’re LOVING this time we have together. This quiet, us time. This close-held intimacy.

If you’ve already brought children home, how did you spend these last weekends alone together? How do you wish you had? If you’re working on/waiting for children now, how are you using the time you have?

***********************************************************************************************************************

My beautiful.joyful wife and our sweet.sweet boy.

Me and Rabbit.

The rabbit we (J and I and our dear friend C) watched eating the grass seed I planted in the front yard. Look at those ears! I think our Rabbit’s ears might be big, too, but probably not quite this big.

The nursery.in.progress, featuring the stunning, all-cotton, softly lined curtains that Cheri over at (Etsy’s) Seams Original made for Rabbit. If you have sewing project needs, look Cheri up. She is so talented, and she’s been way way kind and generous to our family.

Curtains. Glider with Ottoman. Total nursery love.