And then it happened....

Last weekend, I hoped to have a baby. Contractions came irregularly. I slept a lot. And then Laurel got sick, and I was distracted by that, and the weekend came and went. I took her to the doctor and it turned out she had strep throat. I started a new set of lesson plans for work, while she dozed in her bed and watched Diego on Netflix. My friend, Leah, had predicted the 23rd, but I wasn't feeling optimistic about it. Until, that is, I woke up at 4:30am on the 23rd, ravenous for my customary early-morning bowl of cereal. I had several contractions in bed and they felt different somehow. While I was sitting at the dining room table with my bowl of Chex, my water broke. I thought about what to do, and decided to wake up M. In retrospect, I might have let him sleep a little longer. But he was very excited and immediately set about getting the neighbor to come and watch Laurel and calling my mom and making coffee. Because of my VBAC status, I knew the midwife would tell us to come in for monitoring, but I also knew there wasn't a huge rush, since I wasn't in active labor yet. When we finally left home around 7:30, we decided to stop for some breakfast and went to the very empty Eat n Park in Squirrel Hill. We attempted to walk around a bit outside, but the wind chill was below 0 and we gave up on that quickly. When we got to the hospital, I had to go through the whole strip-down, pee-in-a-cup routine and they hooked me up to a monitor. They confirmed that my water broke and that I wasn't in active labor. We discussed getting some pitocin to get things started. That's when the first of the heart decels showed up on the baby's monitor. Decels sometimes mean something and sometimes don't, but in my case, they were exercising a lot of caution because it's often the first sign of a uterine rupture. The consulting OB said no pitocin and to check in and wait for a few hours to see if anything happened.

We spent a few hours chilling in the Labor and Delivery room. The midwife told us she would come back around 1. M was coding something and I was goofing around on Pinterest. Then around 10:30 am I started to feel real contractions. By 11:30, they were intense and frequent. At first I was up and about. M helped to rub my back and hold me. I asked for the yoga ball and the telemetric monitoring belt so that I could move around a little more, but they started having trouble keeping the baby's heart on the monitor and there were more decels and they made me get in bed and lie on my side. I found this to be a most unpleasant position for managing pain and I started to lose it pretty quickly. I was sweating like crazy and thinking, there is no way I can do this for the next 24 hours (Laurel's labor was very long, so I was imagining a time frame like that). The midwife finally came back and checked my progress and declared that I was at 6cm. Contractions were coming fast and furiously and we tried again to do some other positions, but the baby's heart rate kept going down, and they started to roll me back and forth from side to side in the bed.

The last 45 minutes is something of a blur. I demanded an epidural if I had to stay in bed. My contractions were literally on top of each other as the anesthesiologist was trying to explain every bullet on a very lengthy informed consent document, running from one side of the bed to the other as they rolled me back and forth. I felt an uncontrollable urge to push, which the labor and delivery nurse was trying to get me to stop because the baby's heart rate was slowing down so much. There were many people in the room, my blood pressure plummeted, and then there were hands all over my body taking my pulse in my wrists and neck and ankles (it was in the 30s). They put an oxygen mask on my face. Somebody said, should we just roll her down into the operating room and wait for the OB there. People started to unhook IV bags. It would have been scary, except I was all dizzy from having no blood pressure, so I wasn't thinking about much at all.

And then the doctor arrived. Finally. Our OB reminds me of a television version of an OB. Older, distinguished, makes corny jokes. He told everyone to calm down. He checked me again and I was fully dilated. The baby's heart rate was cranked up high, and I could hear it slow down with every contraction, as the midwife and nurse looked nervously at the screen. He said, "We're going to do this old school." I didn't care what that meant, I was just relieved to not be having another c-section. And that's how Mark Oliver came into this world. Pulled gently out of me with a pair of forceps. He cried immediately and they put him on my chest and the NICU people took a look at him and then disappeared. And slowly people started to leave the room until it was just M and me and our son. Megan arrived with my gluten free pizza and brownie. She was supposed to be another labor support person, but the whole thing happened too fast.

Mark Oliver was very alert and nursed immediately and I felt amazing and it was only 2 o'clock in the afternoon.

And that's how we had a baby.

And then there was a dance party....

The morning seemed particularly dark today. The days are supposed to be inching longer as spring approaches, but it's still January and 6 am is still very early. We ignored the alarms and woke up slow, scrolling through the New York Times on my phone from bed, waiting to hear Laurel stir. A cup of coffee for M and rooibos tea for me. A "ba-waffle" for Laurel, with plenty of jam. Lots and lots of oranges. Laurel shouted from dream-land on and off all night, but seemed to wake up refreshed. She got to wear her favorite skirt, and the fight over brushing her teeth was less dramatic than usual. For some reason, she suddenly hates the taste of virtually all toothpaste, even the sweet children's brand. I found something to wear that actually fits, good since I have two meetings to attend today.

M and Laurel set out for school and work. She blows kisses enthusiastically while I wave from inside. Yesterday she snuck a harmonica into her lunchbox when we were not looking, so I frisked her before she left. ("Only one teacher laughed, Mama. Other teachers took it away.")

And while we got ready there was a dance party. Are you reading from your office? Close the door right now, hit play, and move your body. I guarantee you will feel better after.

Nap Gamble and Other Parenting Adventures

M reads scary Norse myths to Laurel every night. "Mips," she calls them. I have a hard time following the stories myself, so I'm not sure what she's getting out of it, but it's a welcome change from Thomas the Tank Engine, and she listens in rapt attention.

Laurel did many things on purpose to piss me off today. I'm sure of it. I would say that 99% of the time I can figure out a behavior for a kid and it means something...a need they are trying to meet, or perhaps they are simply solving a problem in a way that doesn't make sense to us and it looks like a misbehavior. But there's the 1% of the time when the kid is actually looking at you, eyes all twinkly and daring, and you can tell...they just want to get your goat. For their own entertainment.

It started with stripping off all of her clothes and rubbing her butt on the couch cushions. I was able to stop her before she dumped out the paint water and paintbrushes. But while I was cleaning up, she busted into the pantry and stole a box of cheddar bunnies 10 minutes before dinner and then shoved them in great handfuls into her mouth while I chased her around the house. And by chase, I mean shuffle, because I am nine months pregnant and very slow and rather wide.

On Sunday, we had a delightful day at Phipps Conservatory. So delightful that we pressed our luck a bit and ate at the cafe and then went to the library to get some books. By the time we got home, Laurel was glassy eyed and whiny. She took a very long nap, which resulted in a very delayed bedtime and we were reminded that messing with naps and bedtimes usually has consequences that last many days and may or may not be worth it. When we were on the self-employed train, we just slept in and all was fine the next day. But now we have to stick to a 6 am alarm.

I can't do much of anything right now without wondering what it will be like with another kid in the mix. Despite all the antics tonight, I was able to throw together a delicious, well-balanced dinner (roasted cauliflower and sundried tomatoes over GF pasta and a salad). How will I keep Laurel entertained and clothed during dinner prep, while I'm nursing a newborn? We will probably just eat cheddar bunnies for dinner.

Hurry Up and Wait

In a fit of early pregnancy enthusiasm/paranoia I signed up for one of those Babycenter email lists where you get a weekly update and they compare the size of your baby to some fruit or vegetable. (Usually an odd comparison. This week it's Swiss chard.) I immediately regretted giving my real email address and Babycenter is relentless in its ability to skirt any type of filter I try to set up to divert these ridiculous emails to my spam folder. And don't even get me started on the unsubscribe feature.

Now that I'm full-term (37 weeks), the update was all about how to keep yourself occupied during this I'm-fat-I-can't-sleep-I-have-to-pee period while you wait for labor to start. Get a haircut. Make a lunch date with friends. Read a novel. Schedule a spa treatment. Those were the suggestions. For pregnant ladies living the leisurely life, who are apparently not working, but also have a lot of discretionary income.

Those things didn't really seem practical. Instead, I got a job, decided to head up a committee to organize a home renovation workshop for 100 people in March, and despite my original intentions to keep this month very chill and clear...I just can't stop RSVPing to community meetings. I'm a community organizing junky. Do not complain to me about crime or traffic and then say, "someone should do something about it." Because I will, and I'll make you come to the meeting with me. It runs in my family. I have a cousin who is not even 25 and is the mayor of his town.

I figure this is the best way to coax this kid out. And if he decides to stay put until 42 weeks like Laurel did, well, then I'll have had a very productive month and won't be bored.

Just so you all know, 42 weeks will be February 12. That's Abe Lincoln's birthday. And also M's. That's more or less the end of the line for this pregnancy because they get all antsy and start fiddling with you to get the baby out once you've gone "post-date".  As Laurel puts it, "I wouldn't come out so a doctor cut me out with a knife!" Yes, we have discussed the different ways babies come into the world and she gleefully recounts her entry, much to the horror of the people standing in line next to us at the Coffee Tree. Sorry about that. (At least she didn't start talking about vaginas. Oh, the downsides of being honest with your kids.)

I called M yesterday to make arrangements for some minor this-or-that and he yelled at me for using the phone. "Only call if you are in labor!" he told me. Apparently he cut off his boss mid-conversation to answer the call or something like that. Therefore, I will now be texting him unless something exciting starts happening with my uterus.

So, enjoy the wait with me. Remember we are a family who blogs and tweets and facebooks and all that, so you will definitely know when this baby is born. No need to worry that you were left out of the loop. There will be an announcement and probably 13,000 pictures.

Sending them Off

Now that M is working just a few miles down the road from our house, he's been walking to work and dropping Laurel off at daycare along the way. The sun is barely rising when they set off, all bundled up in boots and hats and gloves. On the really cold days, Laurel wears a balaclava and looks like a little ninja. Today, it was only 18 degrees. I hear about bits and pieces of their antics when we are back together for dinner. Snowball fights and stopping at John and Maggie's corner store for coffee and fruit cups. Greeting the crossing guard and petting all of Laurel's favorite dogs, out for their morning walks.

Today was a right-side-of-bed kind of day. I woke up at 5, and being totally awake, decided to do a little work then. I swear my body is starting to get ready for sleeping in 2-3 hour stretches. Laurel woke up at 6 and came downstairs to get me. I asked her if we should wake M up, but she said, "Maybe we make him some coffee first." Good idea.

Now the house is quiet and I have to exercise extreme self-control to keep plugging away at work. Strategy number one is to make all the beds first thing, so I am not tempted to crawl back in. Strategy number two is to get dressed all the way, so that I do not find myself in pajamas at noon. Strategy number three is to work in 45 minute segments, taking a 10 minute dance party break after each one. I'm all about the Prince today.

These Days

I'm hitting the last weeks of pregnancy and am alternately ready to be holding a baby already and utterly terrified at that prospect and willing to stay pregnant forever.

It's a confusing place to live.

You would think that once you have a baby, the second go-around would be fairly routine. I mean, I know what happened last time and that was only 3 years ago! I had a moment of panic the other day and checked out a big thick baby care manual from the library. I read it and was like, oh yeah, feed them, rock them, change them, repeat. Whew. Yes, it's really that simple. I know how to do that. And then I read the part about newborns only sleeping for 2-3 hour stretches and I started panicking all over again and thinking that it's going to be spring at the very earliest before I sleep, and if this baby is like Laurel it will be the spring of 2014. Gah. And I can't even drink coffee now to get myself through it.

Tonight I was thinking about mountains and how much I like to hike up them, but also how much fear is involved in that for me. I love the rhythm of finding a nice stride going uphill. Even if you are in good shape, it starts to feel impossible after a while. The mountain goes on and on. You think you see a peak, but you get there and there's more to climb. For me, if the wind so much as starts to blow I worry about a thunderstorm. Sometimes it's slippery and the trail goes really close the edge. Sometimes, after you've walked over a few hundred mountains, you wonder what in the world you are still doing walking over mountains. Then, the peak comes. You are perhaps rewarded with a view. You say, I just kicked that mountain's ass! I feel amazing! I am on top of the world! Life is good. But for me, that exhilaration always came with pit in my stomach. I feel vulnerable and exposed and worry that Nature is coming to get me in the form of a lightening storm or mountain lion attack. I immediately start thinking about getting the heck down off that mountain.

I am both empowered and terrified.

This is motherhood to me. Today I felt good about what I have taught Laurel so far....with the philosophy that I am educating a person, not training a child to behave. It's tedious and I often don't know if what I'm doing is "working". But it does feel empowering from time to time when your kid suddenly makes another developmental leap and you can see how you helped them to that place. I rocked that mountain.

Motherhood terrifies me because it's such a place of vulnerability for me. Being honest with your kids is harder than I imagined. The father of one of our friends died this week and Laurel found the sympathy card I was sending. It would be easier to gloss over it. Maybe call it a birthday card or something. Much harder to find the appropriate words to tell your three year old that people die and it makes other people sad and here's one tiny little thing we can do to make someone feel better. But it does not make it go away. And yes, everyone dies. Gulp. I want to get down off this mountain right now.

Empowered and terrified. That's what I am these days.

Do You Want to Die on this Mountain?

What is up with three? Laurel's potty trained, she can feed herself, makes hilarious observations about the world, and can tell us where it hurts.

Parenting should be a breeze, right?

ZOMG. No. Three year olds are insane. Laurel is so p.o.'d at us sometimes that she yells at us in her sleep. Sometimes she walks into our room and gets into our bed and wakes us up, just to yell at us. You are hurting my feelings. I didn't like when you said no to going to the purple playground. I love you, but you are not a good mommy. Reliving the perceived transgressions of the day.

She's very bossy, too. And if you do what she says, she gets mad and wants you to do something else.

We are considering buying some kind of straight-jacket device so that we can wrestle her out of wherever we are trying to leave without sustaining great bodily injury. Have you ever seen what they use to capture alligators? You could say that transitions have gotten a bit...errrr...challenging.

And she won't eat any vegetables except for saurkraut.

I threw away all my parenting books during my deeply sleep-deprived days when nothing seemed to work to make Laurel sleep through the night. And I gotta admit, I've been kind of winging it since then.  Staying off the old internet message boards and parenting blogs. Feeling very good about my gentle discipline parenting style. Mutual respect and all that.

We went on a 3,000 mile long road trip together a few months ago. And it was actually fun to hang out "all both together" as she puts it. Like, we actually had a rockin' good time on vacation with our kid. That's how awesome Two was.

I googled.  I read this. And this. And the quote that stood out for me was "Do you want to die on this mountain?" Pretty much anybody who is writing about three year olds ends up here. As in, choose your battles. Their (completely developmentally appropriate) behavior can be challenging. They are compelled by their little brains to exert independence and control.

It's actually kind of funny at times.

But do not laugh at your three year old.

That makes them really mad.

2012

Well. That was a year. I don't know if I would call it good. But it was full of change that resulted in good things coming our way.

Mark quit his job. I quit my job. This took guts and was probably a little crazy. We freelanced and began the steps to launch our own business. But by the end of the year, we had both found ourselves employed once again, this time in positions we're excited about and believe in. Filing our 2012 taxes is going to be a epic adventure, perhaps on par with the year we lived in 2 states and worked in 3.

I taught a bunch of algebra with my very favorite co-teacher of all time, Nicole. She was my polar opposite in so many ways, but taught me to enjoy glitter pens and fancy Starbucks drinks. (She could never get me to wear heels in the classroom, though.) She taught me a lot about building relationships with high school students. I really loved teaching math while I was in that room. When I finally put in my letter of resignation, the hardest thing to let go of was the prospect of another year of Algebra 1 with Nicole.

I got to know people I never thought I would, like gastroenterologists and acupuncturists. My body went haywire and was slowly and gently coaxed back to health through a change in diet, plenty of sleep, and some major CTFO. (And just in time to start gestating the newest member of our family, which thus far, has been a blessedly uneventful process.)

Laurel quit diapers, got bossy, learned to negotiate, developed empathy, and mastered all kinds of early reading skills that I get super excited about observing. (Phonemic awareness! Pattern recognition!)

M spent a lot of time working on Margaret's farm. He brought home crates and crates of seconds and now our freezer is full going into winter. He ran in a couple of super hike events, always amazing me with how big his grin gets after he's covered 20 or 30 miles of trail in the woods.

We took our first family road trip and explored Florida. We discovered that Laurel enjoys hitting the road as much as we do. In fact, it's one of the most common make-believe games she plays now.

This wasn't a year of accomplishments, or goal setting. It was a year of life happening. It was a year of us saying no to things we didn't want to do. We spent a lot of time walking away and waiting. The amazing thing to me is that when you walk away from what you don't want, you end up walking towards what you do. Life opens up. Gives you opportunities that you didn't know were there before.

It was scary, though. I think the biggest change in me during this year was how I dealt with fear. Aside from my infamous fear of lightening, I'm pretty gutsy in the face of danger. I handle emergencies with poise and a clear head.  I can get things done and I don't overreact. I do a lot of things other people might consider risky, but I don't do them in an irresponsible or cavalier way. I try to be informed of the facts, and weigh my decision based on a reasonable assessment of risk. And I don't want to miss out on the fun of life, just because there's a remote chance I'll be harmed in some way by it.

However, when it comes to the larger decisions in life, I waver. I make too many contingency plans, err on the side of caution, and avoid taking risks with my career and goals. And as a result, I found that I was going down a path I didn't really want to be on. I had a lot of fear of walking away from a contract teaching job, because it's supposed to be a good thing. Steady paycheck, good benefits, great hours for a mom of young children. I was pretty good at it. Plus I had spent all those years and money on the credentials and blah, blah, blah. Point is, I had tremendous fear of even imagining another way for myself. I dealt with that fear in 2012.

M bought me this poster last winter, when I was in a generally panic-stricken state, as things seemed to be getting worse and worse. I learned about the history of this poster, and breathed it in and out until I figured out what to do.

Happy New Year. Whatever 2013 brings our way, I'll be doing this.

Christmas 2012

Christmas is such a big deal when you have a little kid. There's a lot of pressure to make it really magical, and in America, "magical" seems to equate "spending lots of money to buy Stuff." Laurel goes to preschool and watches enough television that she's influenced by all kinds of things besides us. People love to ask little kids if they're being good and what Santa is going to bring them and all that. So even though we don't really "do" Santa around here, we had to talk about him a lot. Hopefully she doesn't ruin it for your kid. In our house, Santa is a story. Stories can be enjoyed or learned from, but there is no need to take them literally in order for that to be the case. Kind of like the bible. Literal interpretation only causes more confusion down the road.

Our holiday was magical enough, despite Laurel getting the flu. She had a fever of 105 one night! Not fun. We had to cancel most of our plans, but the benefit was that we had a really nice and quiet Christmas at home. We made a lot of hot chocolate and read stories and took naps. Since we're about to add a little chaos into our home in the form of newborn due to arrive sometime in the next month, it was nice to spend some time "all three together," as Laurel puts it. She loves it when the three of us sit down to paint or play with playdoh or hang out in her armada of pirate ships made out of boxes from Uncle Pete. There is something very therapeutic for M and I about getting some time off work and just playing. I'm hoping that next year we'll be able to get together with my family, but that I'll remember to preserve some quiet time for us at home. 

Good Tidings of Joy

I'm currently reading Brene Brown's Daring Greatly, and nodding my head along with agreement as I recognize so many of her ideas in my own life. One of the things she talks about is the difficulty some of us have in really experiencing joy without thinking about the next bad thing that must be coming our way. She calls it "Foreboding Joy."

Oh man, do I do this.

M and I both just started jobs that feel right, we're expecting a baby, we're all healthy. It feels like all the news we're getting now is good news. Our days contain lots of joyful moments. But instead of simply  experiencing the joy, I'm reluctant to embrace it. I worry that it means bad luck is on its way. I feel the need to constantly prepare myself for this impending bad luck, and my imagination runs away to places I'd rather not put in words.

Brown's research interviews with women revealed that I am not alone in this. Lots of her subjects reported these foreboding thoughts when they watched their children peacefully at sleep. They could not help but imagine a horrific car accident or getting a phone call from the police. I felt at once relieved that other women reported feeling this way, and then immediately horrified that so many of us are walking around with these mental images.

It's not the Connecticut shootings. I would be experiencing Foreboding Joy even if somebody hadn't just gone on a murderous rampage in a kindergarten. But it does beg the question....just because bad things can and do happen to people, is it right to live your life anticipating them? Would that make a really horrifying event easier to deal with, if it actually happened to you? People who have experienced tragedy tell Brown no. And furthermore, people who have experienced tragedy often still experience a lot of joy.

This season is about Big Joy. A savior's birth, if you celebrate Christmas, or the retaking of a sacred temple, if you are Jewish. You don't need to wait for Big Joy, though. Joy also comes in the small moments. Ordinary moments. Peeking out the window on a frosty morning to see snow. Laurel asking M what kind of hot sauce he wants and digging around in the fridge until she finds the right one. Running into neighbors at the grocery store. Getting an email from a friend you haven't heard from in a while. Sitting around with some paper and scissors and glue sticks and making holiday decorations.

So, look for the joy in your life today and lean into it. Forget about what may come next.