Caroline’s First Days

Feb 282012
 

Caroline didn’t cry when she was born. She went from swimming in amniotic fluid to completely born in twenty minutes, apparently gulping lots of fluid in the process.

They gave her to me immediately. My only thought was that she was pink and looked well. But she didn’t cry. Paul didn’t cry either, but this was a bit different. Something seemed odd.

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After just a few moments, the nurses took her back from me. They wanted her to cry, so they gave her a shot she needed, gave her a bath, and proceeded to give her a vigorous rubdown. She had her eyes wide open, but she did not make a sound. I was stuck on the delivery table getting stitched up and I couldn’t see her, but Ryan stood by her. I remember starting to get a bit concerned after about ten minutes or so of this.

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Shortly, Ryan and the nurses left with her “for a little while” to take her to the special care nursery where she could get further attention.

I can’t recall thinking much other than “a little while” isn’t very long.

I was still running on adrenaline. When I was discharged from Labor and Delivery we went straight to the special care nursery. Because she was born so quickly, Caroline had developed TTN (Transient Tachynea of the Newborn) which meant that she had liquid in her lungs and as a result was breathing quick shallow breaths.

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Because I’d been up more than 24 hours at this point (well, except for the brief, contraction-filled two hours I’d had at home), I was incredibly the first day. The three days Caroline spent in the Special Care Nursery were rather draining on me; I like to know what is happening and I felt pretty out of control for my little girl’s sake. Anyway, let’s not dwell on those days. You’ll notice I didn’t take many pictures. The nurses were great and Caroline is fine: there are no long-term issues from TTN.

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Caroline came home on her third morning.

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Paul came with Grandma and Grandpa (where he stayed Friday night to Saturday) and he was so excited to finally meet her. He’d seen her through the nursery window. “That’s my sister!” he said with pride. When she and he were finally together, he was so excited to read her a story.

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Paul is a great big brother. He’s feeling the stress of new rules and less attention, but overall, he seems quite pleased to be a big brother now!

Labor, Naturally

Feb 282012
 

I had not been feeling well in general last weekend. Paul went to Grandma’s house until last Monday night so I kept saying to Ryan, “This would be an ideal time to have a baby!”

Sunday afternoon, partially in jest and partially with the hope that they would work, I made a batch of what I found online called “Jump Start Your Labor” Molasses Spice Cookies and ate quite a few of them. Monday, since I was without Paul, I ran some errands and, when I had extra time, I found myself walking around stores looking at baby things and hoping I would not be pregnant for another three weeks! I walked around for about an hour and a half.

Tuesday morning meant taking Paul to preschool and going to the doctor for my 39 week check up. I’d progressed a little since the previous week, and the baby was low and engaged. “We could induce you, if you’d like,” Dr. M offered.

I declined with a sigh. Much as I wanted to not be pregnant any more, I knew I wanted nature to take it’s course. Dr. M ordered an ultrasound to make sure baby was alright: I was measuring small, and at this point it’s important to make sure there is enough fluid for the baby.

By the time the ultrasound was finished, I had to pick up Paul from preschool. We had lunch, I got the blood test the doctor ordered, and then we went to a friend’s house for a play date. Around this time, Ryan called to ask if I’d mind if he joined the youth group at the temple for baptisms. I wasn’t crazy about him being gone, but I said sure, because really, it wasn’t like I was in labor or anything.

By the time the play date was over, I’d called Ryan back and told him to please not go to the temple. I just felt so off. We were nearly home when Paul reminded me that I need to stop and get milk. I cried at the thought of going back out to the store, but we did it. I bought a number of freezer meals, because let’s face it: if I felt that miserable already, how would I get through another week of pregnancy?

That night, I took a long warm bath. By ten p.m., I was noticing some light contractions but they were irregularly spaced. Ryan went to sleep by about 9. “If it happens tonight, ” he said, “I’d like to be rested.” I dozed off about 10:30.

At 12:15, I awoke to contractions again, this time about four minutes apart. They didn’t get strong, but they were consistent for more than an hour, so we called the sitter for Paul and headed out about 1:30 a.m. or so. Paul was groggy in the car to our friend’s house, but he still was awake enough to say, “It’s time?”

The ride to the hospital was about 20 minutes after we dropped off Paul. The contractions got closer together and I worried we’d make it! And then the real contractions started — a bit farther apart than the weaker ones had been — and I realized those close together ones I’d been feeling were just the beginning, and they were nothing compared to the real thing. I have a bad memory.

At any rate, I labored in the hospital for three hours with regular painful contractions. Ryan was a saint, much as he was last time. He just kept me going through each contraction. “One at a time,” he said. Each one was bad, but then there would be a respite before the next. I was going to make it! This time, I did manage to walk the room a little, to bounce on a labor ball, and otherwise not remain on the bed as I had when I was laboring with Paul.

I was 5 or 6 cm at 5 a.m., and I couldn’t stand the thought that I’d be there for so many more hours to get this baby out! That next hour had some of the most horrible contractions but it was worth it, I suppose, because by 6 a.m. I was complete! Nearly there. We had no idea.

The nurse called my doctor (Dr. C was on call, not Dr. M) and said “come quickly.” Almost immediately, at about 6:05, my water broke (finally!) and I knew it was time to push a baby out. The nurses kept asking me to not push, to wait for my doctor, and I would have none of that.

I have, apparently, false memories of this part: I recall totally losing it. I was yelling at everyone to get the baby out and I didn’t care who took the baby out just do it! I was screaming that I couldn’t move, that I couldn’t stop pushing, that the people there were not listening to me. I don’t remember what I said, I just remember knowing that I couldn’t stop the inevitable! Ryan says I wasn’t that bad in my yelling, and that I seemed fully in control. I remember feeling completely out of control.

At any rate, my doctor got there about 6:15 and by 6:25, I had delivered a newborn baby. I can’t say I felt like dancing out of the room as I recall feeling about delivering Paul: I was pretty sore and I also was rather groggy from being up all night long. But I still felt that rush of accomplishment in knowing I’d made it through naturally again. Of course, labor was half as long as it had been with Paul. I suppose that helps. But I did leave the delivery room thinking “That wasn’t so bad.”  And really, it wasn’t!

Dr. M stopped by on his morning rounds at about 8:30 when I was still in the delivery room. He said, “Well, you were right: you wanted nature to take it’s course!” It seemed quite strange to me to think that less than 24 hours earlier, I’d been in the office dreading the thought of being pregnant another three weeks!

 

 

Christmas Present, Birthday, YW, and Pregnancy Waiting Game (Oh My!)

Feb 102012
 

This post is evidence that I must update my blog more often! But since I’m now 2.5 weeks away from my due date (!!) I really just feel this urge to get up to date…so I can hopefully soon move on to newborn pictures.

Our family Christmas present this year was a new patio door for our kitchen. We ordered it the first week of November. After more than a few hiccups, it was finally installed the last week or so of January! Here it is!

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It does not stick when we try to open it! It’s not rotten on the outside! It doesn’t leak when it rains! It’s a sliding door instead of a swing open door, so there is more room in the kitchen! In general, I think we’ll like it very much. Ryan applied primer to the trim: we still need to paint the trim and figure out curtains at some point before the Western setting sun gets too irritating come this summer.

And then it was my birthday. Birthdays are very much NOT a big deal for me. My friends treated me to a baby shower a few days before, and it was so fun to get excited for a newborn baby GIRL!

Here are some pictures of Paul making a birthday cake for me with his grandma!

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And then we ordered a rocking/recliner chair for the baby’s room. We got it the week after my birthday (after a bit of an issue: why did we have so many issues with delivery people in January?!).

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That brings us to February. The Young Women of my ward put on a very well done New Beginnings program. If you’re interested, here’s a link to the YouTube video of their skit and a few photos of the Young Women pirates!

And then we come to the fact that I’m now 37.5 weeks pregnant. The count down is on! As of two weekends ago, we had a disaster area in the room formerly known as my “office.” I was in tears bawling because I was less than a month from having a baby but WE DIDN’T HAVE A NURSERY READY! Ryan talked me down off the edge of break down and we got busy painting. I did the walls; Ryan did the trim. I think it turned out very nice! We intended to have a grayish blue, but it turned out far more blue than we anticipated. With the dark brown and light pink accents we’re anticipating for the curtains (Ryan says he has an idea what we should do; good, because I am not a curtain person), it should look just right for our baby girl.

Now that the nursery is set up and I’ve officially reached “full term,” I personally am feeling rather emotional. I am incredibly excited to meet my girl. And I am so bored with being pregnant: feeling miserable, feeling exhausted and in pain, waddling when I try to walk, grimacing when I stand up, having to pee every 60 minutes, and waking up to pain as I try to move in the bed at night. Not to mention not sleeping well at night overall.

That said, I feel panic whenever I realize that I could give birth tonight or tomorrow. I dread spending time in the hospital.  I dread the pain of childbirth, while at the same time I dread the fact that I may end up with medication like an epidural or a Cesarean against my wishes. I panic at the thought of having a newborn to bring home this weekend. I dread the lack of privacy in my own home. (Don’t get me wrong: while I”m glad to be near close friends and family and I’m excited to share my baby, I’m still a bit in a panic about how life will go on with visitors. I am a private person!). Paul will lose the one-on-one time we’ve been enjoying so much lately. I’ll be so exhausted from never sleeping. I’ll have 10 or more diapers to change a day. I’ll have a human being depending on my body to provide nourishment every hour or two (for an hour!). I’ll have two children to get ready to go out to whatever we have to go to — even the drop off for preschool is going to be quite the bother, since I’ll have to take Caroline in with me each time!  I can’t handle another child yet! I should be so happy to have the time to clean my house right now.

Except I can’t bring myself to do the basics: clean my house (it needs it!), go to the gym to exercise (my last chance!), cook a fantastic creative dinner (I have time!).

So I’m torn between feeling exhausted and bored and overwhelmed and guilty and excited and delighted and just plain tired.

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Photo at 37.5 weeks.

Incidentally, I’ve been collecting a few things others should NOT say to a nine-months pregnant woman. Any others you can think of that really got on your nerves?

  • “I see your third nipple!” (This from the nurse, referring to my belly button poking through my shirt. Great. Thanks. Can I kill you now?)
  • “You look far too happy to be about to have a baby!” (Oh, how I hate you for saying that! I feel so miserable I can’t even begin to express it. Maybe in public I really try to not be a whiner? Ever thought of that?)
  • “My, that went fast!” (I’m quite tired of hearing this too. No, it didn’t. It’s been 37 weeks. And I’m tired of it.)
  • “Oh, I didn’t know you were pregnant!” (I can’t blame people on this one if they haven’t seen me in a while. But REALLY? A bit annoying to hear since I obviously have a baby in my stomach at this point.)
  • “You’re about to pop!” (I’m not a balloon. And while I wish it were true that the end was near, it really could be 2.5 more weeks! Which seems like an eternity at this point.)
  • “I was 10 days overdue with my third…” (Not what I want to think about.)

Something I love to hear:

  • “You look fantastic!” (No other comment necessary from giver of this comment. I don’t feel fantastic, but I’d love to pretend I look it!)

Pregnancy Update

Dec 152011
 

I look back at the lack of photos and details from my first pregnancy and realize the same thing is happening this time! I’m not keeping up with this, and I’m amazed (but very happy….) to see that there are just 11 (eleven!) more weeks until baby Caroline’s due date.

Of course, most days, eleven weeks seems like an eternity, since I know I will be getting progressively more uncomfortable. Here are some updates as to how I’m doing and how our family is.

First, I have to say it is fantastic that there are so many holidays in the fall. This makes it feel that time is passing more quickly! It’s helping Paul too, because he has milestones to look forward to: his birthday, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc.

Paul is very excited to be a big brother. There was a time around his birthday and Halloween when I wasn’t sure what he was thinking — people kept saying “Are you excited to have a little sister?” when he’d get this vacant look in his eyes and not smile. But since then he’s become rather excited. A few stories.

One day near Thanksgiving, we were in the supermarket getting groceries and I couldn’t resist: I had to stop by the little baby clothes. I saw an adorable “Santa” dress for babies: it was bright red velvet with white fur on the collar and sleeves.

“Oh, this is adorable!” I said.

Paul could reach some of the lower shelves and he said, “Look! here’s one in 4T! I can wear this one!”

I explained that he couldn’t wear a dress: those were for girls, like baby Caroline.

Paul promptly responded, “Let’s go find some more adorable clothes for baby Caroline!”

A few days ago now, we were reading a book about a girl with a favorite dress. (I’m currently a round one judge for the Cybils awards, so we’ve been reading all sorts of picture books.) I asked him what he liked about it and he said, “It’s about a girl with a dress, just like baby Caroline will have! So I like it because it’s like baby Caroline.” He had different reasons for liking the book a few months ago when we read it: now it’s all about the “little sister” and “girl” side of things he notices around him, which he’s looking forward to embracing when Caroline joins our family.

He is certainly going to be a great big brother!

As for me, well, here’s a belly shot from when I was 26 weeks (three weeks ago now — that’s how long it’s taken me to post this!)

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(Yes, it’s a bit out of focus. Apparently, my husband the photographer has a hard time just taking a picture of a person.)

I am wearing the same shirt (albeit four years older, stained and so forth) that I was wearing when I was 25 weeks pregnant with Paul here. I think I look bigger this time around…. and in the three weeks since I took that picture, I’ve gotten MUCH larger. I’ll take a 32-week picture to compare with my 32-week picture with Paul as well.

So how am I doing? Do you really want to know? If so, keep reading. If not, stop now. I don’t normally go in to health issues on this blog: it just seems so personal. But, this is partly a pregnancy journal too, and I miss not having my thoughts from my first pregnancy to reflect on. I was just too busy moving to Australia and getting settled, I guess.

Two weeks ago, my pelvic bones decided to split apart. I don’t recall this happening in the first pregnancy, and the fact that I pushed for more than 2 hours and Paul’s newborn head was quite smashed together suggests that it was a rather tight squeeze for him. So I’m hoping the fact that all of my pelvic bones are aching and sore will mean that delivery in February will go much quicker and with less difficulty. I was concerned at first, because I didn’t recall so much pelvic pain when I was pregnant with Paul. The doctor did a check and all was well. He did say that, unfortunately, I’ll probably just be in pain for the rest of the pregnancy. Great. So far, it has moderated a bit, so it’s not too bad.

I don’t have Gestational Diabetes or any worries about pre-eclampsia. In fact, my blood pressure is so low I am often dizzy. I can’t exercise by walking on the treadmill or using the elliptical anymore. I can’t even swim one lap of freestyle without stopping; it’s just too exhausting and hard to breathe. So I’m trying to bring myself to the pool a few times a week just to do breast stroke or elementary backstroke very slowly, to stretch, and use the pool weights. I don’t really feel like I’m exercising, but I guess that’s better than nothing.

Baby is a kicker. This may be my fault. With Halloween candy and then Thanksgiving and now Christmas fudge EVERYWHERE around me, I find I’ve been eating tons of sugar. Baby always responds to that. At any rate, from about 8 p.m. until midnight, I struggle to sleep because she’s so busy making herself known. I’m at the place in pregnancy where I’m waking up at night to pee, because of kicks, and because I simply can’t roll over to get comfortable. I’m so tired come morning.

Also, I have low platelet counts, which I’ve had for a few years now, but it is getting worse. Normal counts are above 140 or 150 (thousands). Before pregnancy, I was 100-120, with is not a big deal. Now that I’m pregnant, I’m  hovering between 80 and 90. It’s not a big deal until it gets to 20, 30 or 40, which is when I’d need a transfusion during delivery. Also, I can’t have an epidural if I drop into the 70s, but since I’m really wanting to go completely natural again, that won’t be an issue. I’d rather the epidural isn’t even an option!

Speaking of, I’ve had tons of pregnancy dreams that just made me laugh (and others that weren’t so funny).  The day after I watched The Business of Being Born (which I really liked; I think it gave a balanced look at the positives and negatives of home birth), I dreamed about my own baby girl’s natural birth, which was great, since it didn’t hurt at all (if only). I dreamt once that I was full term and kept telling Ryan we had to go to the hospital and he kept saying, “I’ll take a shower first” and “I’ll have some dinner first” and “I think I’ll go shave.” Baby ended up being born on the bedroom floor and Ryan (in my dream) was mad because the floor was all gross then and we needed new carpet. I’ve had bad pregnancy dreams: nightmares of surprise early delivery when I’m trying to find a babysitter for Paul and can’t and the baby ends up born on the bathroom floor. And then once I had a dream about my low platelet counts: I was delivering my baby and needed a transfusion so the doctor or nurse was running down the hall calling “Does anyone have A negative blood? Anyone? Anyone?”

Anyway, that’s me. I may look small (people still can’t believe I’m 7 months along!) but there is a full-sized kicking baby inside that makes it hard to walk, hard to sleep, and miserable some days because I’m just SO EXHAUSTED.

I must have a bad memory of pregnancy. But then, last time I was just a lot more positive I think. Here’s what I said at 36 weeks pregnant (which right now seems like a long time from now). Maybe it will get better again?

It’s a….

Oct 072011
 

Baby Girl!

Paul has accepted that the baby will not be a monkey. A few times in the past week, he has said he hopes for a sister. Yesterday, he said he hopes for a brother. But a sister it is!

Baby is 100% normal in the measurements and has plenty of space to move around. I was about 19 weeks when I had the ultrasound yesterday and baby was even a few days larger than 19 weeks. So, despite the fact that I’m still wearing normal clothes and everyone (and I mean everyone) thinks I’m very small for being that far along in pregnancy, no worries — baby is perfect.

(The nurse that took my blood pressure even thought I was 9 weeks pregnant. I said, “no, 19 weeks.” She was shocked.)

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Paul took this picture of me last week (at 18 weeks.)

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Open mouth. She’s screaming or singing.

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Our baby girl with stars in her eyes.

I’m Lovin’ It

Oct 042011
 

If you’d have asked me in mid-July how I felt about being pregnant (finally), I wouldn’t have sounded very positive. Yes, I’ve been hoping to be pregnant for quite some time, and I was devastated by the miscarriage I had. But still, in July and August, I was pretty miserable being pregnant. I did not have a lot to say in regards to joy. I was sick multiple times a day. I was exhausted. I was constantly worried about another miscarriage, and I couldn’t tell anyone I was pregnant yet because I didn’t want to have to backtrack if I did miscarry.

Fast forward. Today I’m one day away from 19 weeks, and I’m not so worried about miscarriage. I find out if Monkey is a boy or a girl in just two more days. I feel the baby move at various times of the day and I no longer wonder if it is just indigestion. (I felt the first movement at 13 weeks, 6 days, and Ryan and others suggested I was just imagining it….now I”m pretty sure that was Monkey all along.) I’m still very small and wearing regular clothes. This made me very nervous for a few weeks there since people have been saying I”m “too small” and otherwise acting surprised at my pregnancy news. I kept worrying if Monkey really was okay. But, given the regular movement I’ve been feeling for the last week or two, I’m no longer in any doubt. Baby is okay. I get reassurance every time there is a poke inside of me.

I have been feeling so good that I find myself saying to Ryan daily “Oh, I feel so sorry for you that you can’t feel this! It’s so amazing! I’m so glad I’m a woman so I can be pregnant. You are missing out.”

Ryan’s response? “Doesn’t it kind of gross you out that there is a parasite growing inside of you?”

Sigh.

I’m just so glad I’m feeling so well, that I have those reassurances that everything will be alright. I know by the end, my hugeness will once again make me not feel so great, but for now, I’m lovin’ it.

Introducing…Curious George

Aug 222011
 

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We’re happy to announce that baby #2 will be joining our family! Attached are some ultrasound pictures of the little leap frog from August 4, age 10 weeks. I am now 12 weeks 4 days along.

I have been absent from the blog because baby is busy making me sick and tired, as well as getting us all excited for the future. I should just leave the description of my summer at “sick and tired.” I’ve been feeling bad since about 5 weeks along, but I’m starting to feel human again!

Estimated due date: February 29, 2012. Grandma and Grandpa S. nicknamed the baby “Kermit” since I”ve been calling him/her my little leap frog. However, Paul is adamant that baby’s name is Curious George.

“That’s a really good name for baby boys and for monkeys!” he says.

I ask what the baby’s name should be if it’s a girl and he appears stumped. (He does say frequently he wants a baby sister.) Nevertheless, he’s busy calling baby “Curious George,” so until we know if it’s a boy or a girl, that name will be the name around our house!

Paul really likes the idea that there is a camera that can see inside mommy’s belly; he really wants one for Christmas so he can see inside his belly too. Maybe, he says, he’ll be a doctor when he grows up because he really wants that cool camera!

Since the ultrasound, he’s understood the concept of a baby in Mommy’s belly a little more concretely. The other day, he told me the baby was crying; he went and got a pretend bottle of milk and “fed” it to Curious George through Mommy’s belly button. And then yesterday, he let baby Curious George take a turn in the game we were playing. (He yelled through my belly, “Do you want to take a turn?”) He helped move the piece after baby said, “yes.”

Yes, he’ll be a wonderful big brother come February or March!

What have you been up to this summer?

“I Can” versus “I Can’t”

Apr 152009
 

I’ve never had incredible self confidence, and I always second guess my abilities. Taking on the role of mother is still incredibly daunting to me, even eighteen months after my son’s birth. But the process of giving birth has so much to do with how I still approach motherhood.

When I first entered the delivery room that Sunday morning, I asked how long I should expect to be in labor. The midwife suggested that normal progress would be 4 hours for every 2 centimeters dilation. Since I was only 4 centimeters at that point, I could therefore expect 12 more hours of labor! I couldn’t stand the thought of such a long time. I’d already been awake most of the night.

Because it seemed there was so much time left, I decided to wait until I seriously couldn’t bear it anymore before asking for the epidural. While I expected I’d eventually take the pain medication, it would be a long time stuck on my back.

Less than two hours later, I asked for it. I couldn’t stand the pain. With each contraction, I already told my husband, “I can’t do this!” He calmly reassured me that I could.

By the time I asked for the epidural, however, it was too late-I was fully dilated. I couldn’t have an epidural at that point. It was nearly time to push.

In some respects, it was exciting to know that my son was so near to being born. It’s very good to have a shorter labor. But I just knew I couldn’t have a baby without numbing all the pain.

“How long?” I asked.

“Within two hours.”

Two more hours! I couldn’t do it. I would die. I firmly decided that if the baby hadn’t been born by 3 p.m, I would succumb to death. But I’d make a valiant effort before I did. I owed that to my husband and this baby that wanted to be born.

The contractions were horrible. But then the most amazing thing happened: in between each I was able to breathe and get ready for the next one. During each contraction I would feel so horrible and I’d tell everyone in the room I couldn’t do it. But then I’d get a moment to catch my breath. And I’d realize that the baby was coming.

Whenever I said “I can’t do it!”, my husband would say “You are doing great” and the midwives would say “You are doing it!”

Well, my son sure took his time. It was more than 2 hours. 3 p.m. came and he still hadn’t been pushed out. But he was nearly there. I decided not to die. And then, with one long push, there was my son. He was born. The midwife put him on my belly.

He was: blue and squirmy and tiny. And yet, he was so huge for having just come from inside of me! It was an incredible thing to finally hold him, and while I cannot describe my first emotional impression of seeing my son, I recall that it was powerful. I was a mother.

That night, my husband left the hospital and I was left with our newborn son. He was fussy and wouldn’t go to sleep. I was exhausted and the adrenaline was wearing off. I’d been up most of the night before with contractions and so I hadn’t had a very restful sleep then either. As a new mom, I think I must have felt I would be betraying my new son if I put him to sleep all alone in his bassinet if he wasn’t yet fully asleep. (I was cured of that pretty quickly.)

As I paced the floor, I thought a silly thought: “Come on! Go to sleep! I can’t stay awake much longer!”

And then it happened: I realized I could never truly say “can’t” again.

I had just been through childbirth without pain medication of any kind. I certainly hadn’t thought I’d be able to do that. And yet, I had done it. Certainly, walking the room with my baby when I was exhausted was nothing compared to that. I could handle whatever comes.

I have forgotten many times. I still doubt myself. And if I’m labor again, I will probably say “I can’t do this!” It’s how life is: we forget. But I have had an experience that solidifies the fact that I can do so much more than I think I can do.

When I was up late last week, exhausted and feverish, holding my feverish toddler, I could handle it.

When my son throws his food on the floor and laughs in my face and I know my husband is out of town for another three days, I can handle it.

And in the coming years, when my son hurts himself and is screaming and bleeding, I can handle it.

I may not feel like I can on those days of utter exhaustion or frustration or worry, but I didn’t feel like I could deliver a baby without medicine either. We don’t know what we are able to do until we are called upon to do it.

I certainly feel that my call of Mother is beyond my own power. But I know that God sustained me during the birth of my son. And with His sustaining power in my life, I no longer can say “I can’t” to any challenge along the way in this journey called Motherhood.

I won’t tell anyone to go through childbirth without drugs. I certainly wanted them! (We live in an age with pain medicine, why not use it?) In general, however, I think we need to stop telling ourselves “I can’t” if we truly don’t know our ability. We shouldn’t let our perception of how bad things will be (or are) cloud our ability to actually do them. We can!

Adapted for the April Write-Away contest at Scribbit, theme Mom. For me, being a Mom means remembering that that I can do anything I need to.

Don’t Talk To Strangers, Starting Next Year?

Jul 252008
 

Ever since Paul was born, I get comments and smiles and questions every time we go out:

  • Oh, he’s so cute!
  • What’s his name?
  • How old is he?
  • What a great smile!
  • How many teeth does he have?
  • etc., etc., etc.

I understand this. I read somewhere that people talk to pregnant women and mothers because everyone in a community is interested the next generation: the next generation influences the current generation. The entire community is therefore interested in what mothers do.

The other week, I realized that now that Paul’s getting older, soon, he’s start remembering that he’s smiling at strangers at the supermarket. When do I tell him to “never talk to strangers”? And where do we draw the line for “stranger”? For example, is the checkout girl a stranger? What if she’s new and we’ve never seen her before? What if there is a weird man in the line behind us? Do we still answer when the checkout girl asks us my son’s name and how old he is?

This may come across as paranoia. I don’t really think anything bad will come of telling the checkout girl my son’s name. But I’m seriously curious: when do we stop talking to strangers? Or, rather, when do we stop encouraging our kids to talk to or smile at strangers?

FICTION: Dark

Jul 232008
 

The red glow dims and the movement stops. It is very dark now, and all is still. I like this time. It is time to move!

My arm moves slowly in the liquid around me. It hits the side. Bump bump bump! There is some movement, then all is still again. My hand finds my mouth. I suck the tiny fingers. I swallow. I swallow again.

It is too still. I twist, but it is too crowded: there is not enough space now. My feet kick the side. Bump! Bump! I hear a muffled noise and again feel movement. I stop kicking. The movement stops. Then I kick again. I like this game!

I stop moving and relax in the dark, curled up tightly. I like this dark! I am so safe, so warm, so complete.

I find my thumb and suck it again.

Response to Fiction Friday.

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