my DIY baby

Seems there’s no end to the things I can do to make my place more ready for the kid… today vacuuming around the edges of my floors, washing the car seat cover, sorting through music, filling the fridge…

And as for myself – and the dream that suggested I could try to prioritize my own mental state of readiness (or risk coming onto stage out of costume, fumbling lines) -

Well, I’m getting there. Yesterday reviewed the stages of labor with Mom, who labored quickly in a hospital 35 years ago and so appreciated the refresher. She’ll be here in a week! Oh, and the book The Birth Partner is awesome for making those stages understandable, from the point of view of the mom and the caretaker. We’ll have a doula on call in case we need a little help…

Today I’m at 38 weeks, woke from the most vivid, euphorically engaging dream I’ve ever had. Not the topics so much as the overlay of memorable moments – somehow the gorgeous apexes of life wove together seamlessly like waves, one after another, all full color and texture and it hardly matters what it was about. I felt longing and commitment and flow. And there were rowers.

People keep asking me about music and candles. I’m making myself a mix for the ipod, not a big fan of candles, but here’s my secret weapon: I’ve hit upon a rowing power 10 as the best way to get myself into the groove and through the contractions. When I’m mired in a sense of physical depletion, and out of my mind, I can go into a power 10 and find the reserves. I know this from my years on the water, when I learned that I can feel more pain and push through more pain than my mind was ever interested in acknowledging. So I’ll be counting.

Meanwhile I’ve been steeping sitz bath herbs on the stove and dunking huge maxi pads in the “tea” to stick in the freezer for when my nether regions are all used up and sad. What will the midwives think of next! I’ll let you know if they’re a life saver. Honestly I’m amazed I’m getting to all this stuff – usually I’m the type to finish studying for a test a few minutes before it starts, and maybe I liked the punishment of staying up all night writing a paper but, since this babe didn’t come extra early, I’m actually getting all the work done. So, back to the glorious indulgence of Grey’s Anatomy season 3 re-runs…

The kid is alternately doing laps today and stretching diagonally from right rib (green) to left spleen (yellow). I was obsessed with Twister when I was little, was always trying to get people (adults) to play with me (which they didn’t, for reasons I now understand). Well, it seems I may have a suitable playmate soon…

A little spotting today, which could mean she’ll come a week or two early, midwife says. Or it means nothing, and my cervix is just acting out. We’re nearly safe though – 36 weeks and counting, and my midwife is certified to keep me at home from here on out. Apparently this correlates with having been trained in New Mexico, though I’m not sure why – most midwives can only deliver at home from 37 on.

Anyway, pregnancy is progressing, the kid is feeling more and more like a Real Person – not just disembodied limbs. Contrary to what I might have predicted, this transformation from amorphous fetal concept to real baby has made me more cavalier in these last few weeks. A sort of “good enough” attitude replacing the early paranoia that every bout of stress I experienced would ruin her brain Forever. I hope I can keep that feeling once she emerges, though I suspect we’ll be back at oh-my-god-don’t-break-her til the neck stops wobbling.

One of my colleagues told me she was extra careful with her first pregnancy – monitoring her heartbeat while running, getting about 20 steps in before she slowed to a walk to bring her heart back down again, eating all the right food, generally obsessing. And her son’s an incredibly healthy kid, vivid from the start. Then, for her second pregnancy, she ate what she felt like, went for the lunch meats, etc etc… and her daughter is a duplicate of the first child, incredibly healthy. So there you have it.

This weekend I went to bed with mild uterine twinges and wondered if it was early labor. I dealt with this by declaring “I’m not ready!” and then promptly fell asleep, apparently so that I could deal with it subconsciously. I was in a play, helping to set up the stage (we were tiling it with sheets of white office paper) an hour before the performance. This laying out of paper and preventing people from messing it up was a consuming project, though I had this voice in the back of my mind mustering mild alarm around the realization that I wasn’t in costume, no make-up, wasn’t sure I knew my lines, and had no idea where my script was. The metaphor is so obvious I’m almost embarrassed. Yes, the diapers are ready, there’s a sheet on the crib (even if it’s not yet the miracle crib sheet I intend to replace it with) and I spent the holiday washing baby clothes and writing letters. But as far as some sort of mental/physical/emotional gestalt clearly required for labor, well, I guess I’m not sure how well I know my lines.

Time will most certainly tell…

This is the waiting part. There hasn’t been a lot to report, I’m just enjoying the relief at attaining my sense of equilibrium again. I have enough free time right now that I wish I could squirrel it away for later. I can feel my later self being fiercely jealous of my current self, and that’s a bit unsettling. So, while it lasts, I’m visiting the walkable public library, scheduling dentist appointments, learning to go early to the weekend farmer’s market so I don’t wear myself out in the hot noon sun, and spoiling my cats.

I haven’t received much of the unsolicited Weirdness From Strangers they warn you about once you start showing beyond a shadow of a doubt. Could be my tendency to be the one who initiates and holds eye contact, possibly disarming well-intentioned passers-by, or maybe I’m just not getting out much. One thing I’ve noticed in the few public forums I enter (primarily the grocery store and the two blocks between parking garage and office) is that occasionally a woman will smile at me with a look that goes beyond the otherwise anonymous friendliness. I gather she knows something.

Apparently there’s a lot to know, and it’s just around the bend. I’m doing a rigorous double blind study and can safely say that no matter how much you read, you can’t Know These Things. Whatever they are.

My mom and I were planning her visit at the end of July and she proposed she might bring a small suitcase with just a few outfits, and just launder as needed. I protested, “No, bring the big suitcase, we don’t want to be doing laundry all the time!” “Oh…” she paused, “this visit is going to be so different from what you imagine.” Well yes, of course I think a month with my mom will be fun and relaxing, and then there will also be a baby. Somehow I’m holding those thoughts distinctly. One for each side of my brain.

Well, there’s time to find these things out. Meanwhile, the kid is stretching out in the usual directions, getting tangled in the underside of my ribcage, and generally reacting with enthusiasm for all meals that come her way. Must be time for another Ethiopian feast… we just can’t get enough of that injera!!

I’m not feeling it yet, but apparently I’ve made my way into the less frantic month of May. Surrounded by too much stuff, service providers, and a sense of overwhelm that supposes this will never feel like home.

I don’t know if it’s a strong power of suggestion, but yes, this third trimester is exhausting. I’m suddenly droopy and unable to pick up much of anything. Frankly I think I’d be feeling that way regardless, after a month of packing, dragging stuff over to the new place in small batches, climbing 15 steps repeatedly with loads I’d considered light enough to carry until a shooting pain developed in my lower back/upper butt. Oh, and then getting on a plane to headquarters to deliver (twice) a half-day presentation of 5 months of research, flying back, packing those loose ends that seem to exponentially reproduce at the same speed it takes to gather them up, cleaning the old place, and moving. In a day with the help of one most industrious friend. Of course cats kept me up most of last night with their fascination and consternation. Let’s just pretend this is all good conditioning for mom-hood, only without the wondrous kid.

She is, however, making herself known. Stronger all the time, she bumped the AT&T contract out of my hand this morning. She seems to prefer hanging out on the right side, though kicks and punches radiate all over. Sometimes she stretches from left to right edge, demonstrating that she is indeed the length of an English Cucumber this week. On the plane I wondered if she was stomping on my bladder, or if those were the fabled Braxton Hicks contractions, or if it was just my travel-weary body whining about airport concessions. Regardless, this distracting fledgling is getting my attention and it’s so very reassuring to feel her daily exercise.

I should take a picture of myself. I suddenly feel huge.

3 months to go!

Two weeks of scouring Craigslist…

Wrote to someone who posted a house for $1000, got this reply:

“May the Peace of the Lord be Upon you and,Thanks for your interest in our property.

bdrm.,\\ full bath home features granite counter tops,living roomand dining room or den, tiled floors and all appliances. The kitchenopens to a private backyard. The home is on a no-thru street creating minimal traffic. State of the art recreation center Me  and family have been relocated to  Abuja Nigeria while my first son which is my lawyer he is in London England but me and my wife will are here in Nigeria…”

Nigeria indeed. I should have known it was too sweet a deal to be true.

Next… a house across the street from my daycare… the landlord showed me around a $1900 2-bedroom because the 1-bedroom, turns out, is already rented. I protest, he says he’ll go down to $1800. Single mom here… not angling for a deal, just sorry the 1-bedroom is gone. So he says, “well let’s be creative, what can you do to make up the rent?” I looked at him blankly. Well, the place was wood-paneled and smelled weird and there are smokers living downstairs. I emailed the next day that he seems like a great landlord, but the smoking makes it a no-go for me, creativity or not. He actually replied, “You’re not being creative! I want you as a tenant!” Onward.

I found a place… with wall-t0-wall plush white carpeting. Yep, and we’re in! I’m already imagining it covered in layers of plastic tarps and overlapping IKEA rag rugs. We’ll see. It’ll be colorful, to be sure.

Actually, I offered a damage clause right up front, while mentioning that I have two cats. She seemed pleased. But the big selling point for her, what apparently got me the place over the other eager parties, is that I didn’t get knocked up by mistake. For real! Seems I represent “a new era for women.” It’s like a crit in art class where someone pins up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and it gets interpreted as everything from the future of humanity to an uncanny reflection of someone’s dream last night.

Well, maybe not that random, but it was unexpected. I wasn’t even playing up that angle! The first time my decision to go it alone has given me Bona Fide Leverage. I hope it happens again sometime.

Meanwhile, I was up half the night making new pictures in my head. It occurred to me that the news of eviction was most disturbing because I had a story I’d built up with the baby in this apartment… birth in the bedroom, her sleeping in the crib at the foot of my bed, wandering in the clover under the apple tree, picking plums in the back yard… And as soon as I knew where I was going next, the anxiety shape-shifted and my brain got busy knitting a new story, demanding particular furniture layouts and making a Bed Bath and Beyond list.

Hope I get some sleep tonight.