So now that we got the baby IN there, we've got 9 months to figure out how to get it OUT. Buckle your seat belt, guys, cause I'm about to blow your minds. I'm planning to have a natural childbirth.
Go ahead, freak out. I'm used to it.
Seriously though, when I tell people that I'm planning a natural childbirth, you would think I am telling them that I'm going to give myself a c-section in my kitchen with my Wustof poultry shears, but don't worry, A will be on hand with plenty of neosporin and bandaids. To be totally honest, I find their horror to be a bit amusing and I've started saying "natural childbirth" in a high spooky voice just for the thrill it gives me to watch people lose their shit right in front of me.
In all fairness, though, this is just a symptom of the world we live in. Our entire lives have been medicalized, we are conditioned that our bodies are generally broken and that medicine has the answer to all our problems, whether they are physical, mental or emotional. Here's the thing, though. I just don't buy it. Especially when it comes to childbirth.
I first became interested in natural childbirth years ago, when as a women's studies student I first learned about the medicalization of childbirth. How was it that we went from dropping babies on the side of a road and going back to work to a world of cesareans and epidurals? That's not even digressing to the days where women were literally tied down and knocked out as their babies were pulled out of their bodies. It's a long, long story with many twists and turns, and too much to go into in this blog post, but perhaps one day when I'm feeling particularly feisty and enraged I'll outline it for you, my avid readers. At any rate, I began studying midwifery back in my college days, going so far as to consider pursuing it as a career path for awhile. I began seeing a midwife for all of my well woman care years ago, so it was most logical that when the time came I would pursue natural childbirth.
Now, I'm not going to say that when I realized that the rubber was gonna hit the road I didn't pause and really think about what I was going to do. I mean, it was one thing for 18 year old NOT PREGNANT self to poo poo the modern conveniences of hospital labor, but here I was 10 years older and wiser, and, most importantly PREGNANT. So I gave myself an out. Really considered what I wanted to do. Pulled out some of my old books. Bought some new books. Talked to my husband. Imagined how I would feel in different scenarios. At my first offical prenatal appointment at the Birth Center, I recognized how relaxed I felt, how I shared my feelings like I was talking to an old friend. I knew I was in the right place.
I'm not going to tell you that I'm not afraid of childbirth or that I'm not nervous about it. I mean come on, even YOU would see that is a load of poopy. But what I can tell you is that I believe 100% that I can do it. More importantly, I believe that my body was MADE to do it, carefully designed with just this purpose in mind. So much of modern birth involves things that "could go wrong," but the truth is that without needless intervention, things rarely do. The female body is equipped for this task, from conceiving a child to growing that child, all the way though birthing that child and nourishing that child. I always loved that the literal definition of midwife is to be "with woman" - that the role of a midwife is to support a woman as she progresses through the natural process of pregnancy, birth and the postpartum period. I don't expect it to be easy, but then again, what part of parenting is. One of my favorite quotes is from a midwife who told a laboring mother "This is not the hardest thing you will do for this child." Isn't that the truth?
The only post script I'll give to any of this is that the ultimate goal of this whole deal is a live baby and a healthy Mama. So if things happen that change the natural process or endanger the baby in any way, all bets are off. I'm not so tied to the idea of a happy earth mother birth that I would ever risk the health of the baby. But I'm comfortable and confident that the women caring for me wouldn't ever put either of us in danger.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Happy Valentine's Day!
A whole day all about love! What a treat! I know that we should always the people we love that we love them EVERY day, but the truth of the matter is that life gets awfully busy, and whether you mean it or not it's not always easy to stay focused on the important things. BUT - to have a whole day devoted to LOVE, well I don't care if it's a made up Hallmark holiday or I get screwed by the florist AND the chocolate manufacturers, I LOVE IT!
In fact, this is going to be a very short post because I am off to celebrate with my loves - all FIVE of them! I am a lucky, lucky, and very loved girl indeed.
In fact, this is going to be a very short post because I am off to celebrate with my loves - all FIVE of them! I am a lucky, lucky, and very loved girl indeed.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
A Healthy Baby
Since finding out that I'm expecting, I've discovered a popular buzz phrase that comes out in almost any discussion surrounding the baby. It generally appears when people ask if we're finding out the baby's gender, when people who know my super-ultra-girliness assume that I have all my appendages crossed that I'm growing a little one of the female variety. The universal response to all of this is a quick dismissal - "It doesn't matter, as long as its healthy," which people toss out confidently as if the mere act of uttering it will make it true.
Last week we went in for our first trimester scan. Honestly, I didn't understand a lot of the medical stuff surrounding the test, I just knew that it involved an ultrasound and anything that included a peek a boo session with baby seemed like fun to me. It wasn't until we were sitting in the waiting room with a packet describing the various test results that it really dawned on me what we would be finding out today. Down syndrome, Trisomy 18, Trisomy 21 and other congenital heart defects would likely show up in this screening. I started to get nervous, and then I thought of Eliot.
Eliot is a very a special boy who had Trisomy 18. But that was not what defined him. I found his blog years ago, through the wonder of google while looking for different spellings of the name Eliot (Elliott, Elliot, Eliott) as we were in the process of naming our cat. I did not know that google search would lead me down a rabbit hole that would fundamentally change the way I viewed people who were "different." I checked Eliot's blog faithfully, rejoicing as he overcame challenges and his parents celebrated each and every one of his accomplishments. I am not ashamed to say that I wept when I logged on to learn that after 99 amazing days of life, Eliot had left this world for the next one. A few weeks later I wrote to his parents. I was honest. I told them that I was 24 years old, that I believed in God but didn't go to church. Didn't have any scripture to quote. That I was pro-choice. That until I met Eliot, I likely wouldn't have thought much about terminating a pregnancy that I knew would end with a child who would not survive. But I told that Eliot had changed the way that I thought about the world. That he had redefined the way that I thought about ability and disability, about achievement, about the value of an individual life. Eliot and his parents made me reconsider what it really meant to live life to it's fullest and to find joy in everyday life and to understand that every situation, even the darkest cloud, has a silver lining. Years later, I still have a photo of Eliot hanging on my bulletin board as a reminder of how he changed me.
As I sat in the exam room last Wednesday, I thought back to Eliot and I found another gift he had given me that I hadn't even unwrapped yet. What if we found out that I was carrying a baby like Eliot, with Trisomy 18? What then? Well, I'm not going to be naive and say that we wouldn't be worried and upset and scared. Of course, we would be all those things and more. But I can also say that I understand that parenting any child is full of challenges. And from Eliot I learned that parenting any child is also full of joy, expected and unexpected.
It ended up that after all that, we had a clean scan. We were happily given the news that everything looked "normal" and that it looks, at least for now, that we are on track for a "a healthy baby." But I didn't quite feel the relief I expected.
A healthy baby. What does that mean, anyway? Healthy as in physically able? I mean, I suppose that we obviously hope our child is able to breathe, to eat, to have a body that functions normally, to have those ten little fingers and toes. But that doesn't mean that we get a free pass. Every child brings challenges. Maybe they are physical challenges. Maybe they are emotional challenges. Maybe they are just babies who don't sleep or teenagers who drive too fast and fall in with a bad crowd. I'm not going to say that some of these aren't worse than others - to have a child unable to live off a ventalator is quite different than a child who struggles to learn to read, for example. But parenting isn't a contest, and every challenge is relevant. I don't expect that any of it will be easy.
But the more I thought about it, the more I began to understand that to become a parent means to look at all those possibilities, known and unknown, straight on and say: "I will love you anyway. I will love you if you are a girl or a boy. I will love you if your body is perfect or if you have physical limitations. I will love you if you have emotional problems. I will love you when you are seven years old and won't eat your green beans and I will love you when you are nineteen years old and fail your freshman year of college. I will love you when you are successful and I will love you when you fail. I will love you every day of your life no matter how long your life is, and we will be happy, together, if for no other reason than we will make it so."
This is what I believe it means to be a parent, having no practical experience of my own yet. At times, I feel woefully unprepared, but I also know that perhaps this is the best thing. One day we'll leave home as two, and come home as three, and then we'll start learning the rest of it together. What I do know is this - "healthy" or not, every baby is a blessing, and every baby offers the opportunity for joy. Thanks, Eliot.
Last week we went in for our first trimester scan. Honestly, I didn't understand a lot of the medical stuff surrounding the test, I just knew that it involved an ultrasound and anything that included a peek a boo session with baby seemed like fun to me. It wasn't until we were sitting in the waiting room with a packet describing the various test results that it really dawned on me what we would be finding out today. Down syndrome, Trisomy 18, Trisomy 21 and other congenital heart defects would likely show up in this screening. I started to get nervous, and then I thought of Eliot.
Eliot is a very a special boy who had Trisomy 18. But that was not what defined him. I found his blog years ago, through the wonder of google while looking for different spellings of the name Eliot (Elliott, Elliot, Eliott) as we were in the process of naming our cat. I did not know that google search would lead me down a rabbit hole that would fundamentally change the way I viewed people who were "different." I checked Eliot's blog faithfully, rejoicing as he overcame challenges and his parents celebrated each and every one of his accomplishments. I am not ashamed to say that I wept when I logged on to learn that after 99 amazing days of life, Eliot had left this world for the next one. A few weeks later I wrote to his parents. I was honest. I told them that I was 24 years old, that I believed in God but didn't go to church. Didn't have any scripture to quote. That I was pro-choice. That until I met Eliot, I likely wouldn't have thought much about terminating a pregnancy that I knew would end with a child who would not survive. But I told that Eliot had changed the way that I thought about the world. That he had redefined the way that I thought about ability and disability, about achievement, about the value of an individual life. Eliot and his parents made me reconsider what it really meant to live life to it's fullest and to find joy in everyday life and to understand that every situation, even the darkest cloud, has a silver lining. Years later, I still have a photo of Eliot hanging on my bulletin board as a reminder of how he changed me.
As I sat in the exam room last Wednesday, I thought back to Eliot and I found another gift he had given me that I hadn't even unwrapped yet. What if we found out that I was carrying a baby like Eliot, with Trisomy 18? What then? Well, I'm not going to be naive and say that we wouldn't be worried and upset and scared. Of course, we would be all those things and more. But I can also say that I understand that parenting any child is full of challenges. And from Eliot I learned that parenting any child is also full of joy, expected and unexpected.
It ended up that after all that, we had a clean scan. We were happily given the news that everything looked "normal" and that it looks, at least for now, that we are on track for a "a healthy baby." But I didn't quite feel the relief I expected.
A healthy baby. What does that mean, anyway? Healthy as in physically able? I mean, I suppose that we obviously hope our child is able to breathe, to eat, to have a body that functions normally, to have those ten little fingers and toes. But that doesn't mean that we get a free pass. Every child brings challenges. Maybe they are physical challenges. Maybe they are emotional challenges. Maybe they are just babies who don't sleep or teenagers who drive too fast and fall in with a bad crowd. I'm not going to say that some of these aren't worse than others - to have a child unable to live off a ventalator is quite different than a child who struggles to learn to read, for example. But parenting isn't a contest, and every challenge is relevant. I don't expect that any of it will be easy.
But the more I thought about it, the more I began to understand that to become a parent means to look at all those possibilities, known and unknown, straight on and say: "I will love you anyway. I will love you if you are a girl or a boy. I will love you if your body is perfect or if you have physical limitations. I will love you if you have emotional problems. I will love you when you are seven years old and won't eat your green beans and I will love you when you are nineteen years old and fail your freshman year of college. I will love you when you are successful and I will love you when you fail. I will love you every day of your life no matter how long your life is, and we will be happy, together, if for no other reason than we will make it so."
This is what I believe it means to be a parent, having no practical experience of my own yet. At times, I feel woefully unprepared, but I also know that perhaps this is the best thing. One day we'll leave home as two, and come home as three, and then we'll start learning the rest of it together. What I do know is this - "healthy" or not, every baby is a blessing, and every baby offers the opportunity for joy. Thanks, Eliot.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Your Bad Day Just Got Worse
Today I woke up to the awesomest sound in the world.
The sound of a cat throwing up.
I quickly jumped out of bed yelling, "A, ONE OF THE CATS IS THROWING UP!" as I scrambled to grab a towel and frantically searched for the culprit.
While it is usually our little Simon who is the puker in the family, I found Elliott engaged in a cycle of vicious heaving. But Simon, being the compassionate, kind, caring soul that he is, was stationed right beside his brother for moral support and you could almost hear him encouraging, "It's okay, brother, let it out! It will be okay" the same way we do for him when he's not feeling well.
Elliott looked at Simon, heaved a few more times and let lose a stream of vomit.
Right across Simon's face! In his eye! Simon bolted upright and began blinking furiously - that shit had to burn! I yelled for A -- "ELLIOTT JUST PUKED ON SIMON'S FACE! IN HIS EYE!" I scooped poor Simon up and took him to the bathroom where A and I wiped his face with a warm washcloth and tried hard not to laugh. We cleaned the carpet and gave Elliott some snuggles too.
And when everything was all cleaned up we looked at each other and laughed so hard I began to cry. Only in our house.
Seriously dudes. You just can't make this shit up.
The sound of a cat throwing up.
I quickly jumped out of bed yelling, "A, ONE OF THE CATS IS THROWING UP!" as I scrambled to grab a towel and frantically searched for the culprit.
While it is usually our little Simon who is the puker in the family, I found Elliott engaged in a cycle of vicious heaving. But Simon, being the compassionate, kind, caring soul that he is, was stationed right beside his brother for moral support and you could almost hear him encouraging, "It's okay, brother, let it out! It will be okay" the same way we do for him when he's not feeling well.
Elliott looked at Simon, heaved a few more times and let lose a stream of vomit.
Right across Simon's face! In his eye! Simon bolted upright and began blinking furiously - that shit had to burn! I yelled for A -- "ELLIOTT JUST PUKED ON SIMON'S FACE! IN HIS EYE!" I scooped poor Simon up and took him to the bathroom where A and I wiped his face with a warm washcloth and tried hard not to laugh. We cleaned the carpet and gave Elliott some snuggles too.
And when everything was all cleaned up we looked at each other and laughed so hard I began to cry. Only in our house.
Seriously dudes. You just can't make this shit up.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
Dear Baby
Yesterday I saw your face for the first time.
I watched you wiggle on the camera, and even the technican said, "Oh wow - look at that baby moving!" I explained to her that you were dancing. I think she rolled her eyes.
What she didn't know is that you were just doing what your Mama asked. The night before we had our first midwife appointment, and while everything had looked good, they weren't able to find your heartbeat. No one was particularly concerned, after all, you are only ten weeks old, early to be able to hear it at all. But for your Mama, who had been waiting and waiting for something, anything, to tell her that you're real, it was a little bit much to bear. And so before bed, I put my hand over my belly and told you that tomorrow we would see you for the first time. And I told you that I hoped that you were dancing.
And so you did, moving your little head and your tiny arms. I saw what will someday be your little nose, and I watched your heart flicker on the screen - 171 beats a minute! I could have sat and looked at you all day.
When finally we were finished, I got dressed and went out to find your Daddy in the waiting room. He looked so worried, and I realized that he didn't even know that you were just fine! I quickly pulled out the photos and showed him the first pictures of his new baby. Someday when you're older you'll probably be embarrassed to know that we cried a little looking at your sweet face.
Oh baby. What a life we have ahead of us, if already at 10 weeks you are dancing.
Love,
Mama
I watched you wiggle on the camera, and even the technican said, "Oh wow - look at that baby moving!" I explained to her that you were dancing. I think she rolled her eyes.
What she didn't know is that you were just doing what your Mama asked. The night before we had our first midwife appointment, and while everything had looked good, they weren't able to find your heartbeat. No one was particularly concerned, after all, you are only ten weeks old, early to be able to hear it at all. But for your Mama, who had been waiting and waiting for something, anything, to tell her that you're real, it was a little bit much to bear. And so before bed, I put my hand over my belly and told you that tomorrow we would see you for the first time. And I told you that I hoped that you were dancing.
And so you did, moving your little head and your tiny arms. I saw what will someday be your little nose, and I watched your heart flicker on the screen - 171 beats a minute! I could have sat and looked at you all day.
When finally we were finished, I got dressed and went out to find your Daddy in the waiting room. He looked so worried, and I realized that he didn't even know that you were just fine! I quickly pulled out the photos and showed him the first pictures of his new baby. Someday when you're older you'll probably be embarrassed to know that we cried a little looking at your sweet face.
Oh baby. What a life we have ahead of us, if already at 10 weeks you are dancing.
Love,
Mama
Monday, January 17, 2011
Dear Baby
When you were 8 and a half weeks old, we took you to Disney World for the first time. We hadn't quite planned it that way - the trip was scheduled and I guess you just decided that you wanted to come too. We were, of course, so happy to have you with us.
Now, being 8.5 weeks old, you did cause some trouble for your Mama, but we made it through. We paid special attention to the "EXPECTANT MOTHERS MAY NOT RIDE" signs, which meant avoiding Space Mountain, Thunder Mountain and, well, we didn't even go to Animal Kingdom since they pretty much hate babies there. Mostly we ate a lot of popcorn and pasta and crackers, me and you. It was totally worth it to have you there.
We were thrilled to buy you your first set of mouse ears - embroidered with your name and everything! Your Mama stood right on Main Street in front of the castle and we took the first "offical" picture of you "wearing" them. We shared the good news with Mickey and Minnie and you got rubs and kisses from them both. On our last night at the Magic Kingdom, we bought you your first Mickey Mouse right on Main Street. The most magical Mickey there is for our baby.
I couldn't stop thinking throughout the trip how blessed you are already - how many people love you and can't wait to meet you. Your whole family talked about you the entire trip - imagining what you would do the next time we visit, wanting to buy you funny things, thinking about how much joy you will bring our lives.
Every night as we watched fireworks light up the sky, I put my hand on you and wondered if you could feel how happy I was. You see, your old mama can be a bit of a pessimist. She worries about things that are beyond her control, and is always afraid of the worst happening, especially when it involves things she wants desperately. You are, of course, one of those things, and it was hard for your Mama at first to trust that you were real, that you were truly on your way. But as I tilted my head to the sky, I listened closely as an old friend, Jiminy Cricket, promised:
When stars are born, they possess a gift or two.
One of those is, they have the power to make a wish come true.
Star light, star bright,
first star I see tonight.
I wish I may, I wish I might,
have the wish, I wish tonight.
We'll make a wish, and do as dreamers do,
and all our wishes,
will come true.
And I pushed aside all of my crankiness and pessimism and began to believe that maybe he was right after all. Maybe it was as simple as wishing, as easy as picturing you, two years from now, in the same spot wearing your mouse ears and sharing popcorn with your Daddy as you watched Tinkerbell soar across the sky. And I finally quieted my doubts and my fears, and closed my eyes and wished as hard as I could.
I can tell you this for sure, Baby. If old Jiminy is right, if in the end it all comes down to a wish, then you will join our lives, and you will be the most blessed, the happiest baby that ever lived. All our wishes will come true.
Love,
Mama
Now, being 8.5 weeks old, you did cause some trouble for your Mama, but we made it through. We paid special attention to the "EXPECTANT MOTHERS MAY NOT RIDE" signs, which meant avoiding Space Mountain, Thunder Mountain and, well, we didn't even go to Animal Kingdom since they pretty much hate babies there. Mostly we ate a lot of popcorn and pasta and crackers, me and you. It was totally worth it to have you there.
We were thrilled to buy you your first set of mouse ears - embroidered with your name and everything! Your Mama stood right on Main Street in front of the castle and we took the first "offical" picture of you "wearing" them. We shared the good news with Mickey and Minnie and you got rubs and kisses from them both. On our last night at the Magic Kingdom, we bought you your first Mickey Mouse right on Main Street. The most magical Mickey there is for our baby.
I couldn't stop thinking throughout the trip how blessed you are already - how many people love you and can't wait to meet you. Your whole family talked about you the entire trip - imagining what you would do the next time we visit, wanting to buy you funny things, thinking about how much joy you will bring our lives.
Every night as we watched fireworks light up the sky, I put my hand on you and wondered if you could feel how happy I was. You see, your old mama can be a bit of a pessimist. She worries about things that are beyond her control, and is always afraid of the worst happening, especially when it involves things she wants desperately. You are, of course, one of those things, and it was hard for your Mama at first to trust that you were real, that you were truly on your way. But as I tilted my head to the sky, I listened closely as an old friend, Jiminy Cricket, promised:
When stars are born, they possess a gift or two.
One of those is, they have the power to make a wish come true.
Star light, star bright,
first star I see tonight.
I wish I may, I wish I might,
have the wish, I wish tonight.
We'll make a wish, and do as dreamers do,
and all our wishes,
will come true.
And I pushed aside all of my crankiness and pessimism and began to believe that maybe he was right after all. Maybe it was as simple as wishing, as easy as picturing you, two years from now, in the same spot wearing your mouse ears and sharing popcorn with your Daddy as you watched Tinkerbell soar across the sky. And I finally quieted my doubts and my fears, and closed my eyes and wished as hard as I could.
I can tell you this for sure, Baby. If old Jiminy is right, if in the end it all comes down to a wish, then you will join our lives, and you will be the most blessed, the happiest baby that ever lived. All our wishes will come true.
Love,
Mama
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Countdown to Christmas with the Yings: December 23
December 23 will always be a day dedicated to remembering our Stitchy. I don't know that I can say that he got his fashion sense from the Ying side of the family, because I can tell you this cat knew what was UP when it came to dressing to the nines. He was, he still is, one of the best friends I could have asked for. It was unbearably hard to lose him at Christmas, but I know that he would always want us to remember him with a smile, and so today we'll toast his amazing life and give thanks for the time he spent with us and the lessons he taught us. We miss you, Stitch, and we love you - so so much.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Countdown to Christmas with the Yings: December 22
And now comes the day you've all been waiting for. Introducing A! Check out that hair, man. Totally sweet dude. Luckily he has stuck around much longer than his hair has. Merry Christmas!
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Countdown to Christmas with the Yings: December 21
Oh, the two lovebirds that started it all. Check out Santa and his Mrs. Claus. What a lovely faux fur neckband on that outfit, Mrs. Claus must really hve some fashion sense. We also must pause to appreciate Santa's strange black leather gloves.
Dear Baby
Last night there was a kind of Christmas miracle. You have to forgive your old Mom here, because we both know that science is not my strong suit, but it was the first time in 450 plus years that the Winter Solstice has been on the same day as a Lunar eclipse. I, of course, found out about it on facebook and some quick googling proved how rare this phenomenon was. I immediately told your Dad - we have to see it! We have to set our alarms, wake up and see it! Crazy pregnancy hormones aside, he is used to these kinds of bizarre requests so he nodded that sure, we could get up and see it.
There was some rhetoric on the interwebs not only about the rarity of this event, but about the sacred meaning of the solstice combining with the energy of a lunar eclipse. You know that I am even less of a religious scholar than a scientist, so I didn't understand a lot of what was said except that the combination of these two events would be a time of reflection and personal transformation. As my body even now starts to swell in preparation for your growth, this seemed to me to be appropriate, and I suddenly couldn't wait to stand with you in the moonlight.
When the alarm rang at 2:30am, it was not quite as romantic as I'd hoped. We stumbled out of bed and tried to find some sweatshirts in the dark. We woke up our entire zoo of furry animals and they began to stretch and weave under our feet. We tripped and swore. We made it down the stairs and out the back door. At first, I couldn't even find the moon. And, man, it was COLD! We stood on the deck and gazed at the moon. It really was beautiful - all red and spooky-looking. I waited to feel something magical. I hugged your Dad and asked him if he was saying a little prayer. He nodded, either because he was, or because he was already falling back to sleep. I tried to think of the perfect thing to say. I mumbled something about you being healthy, about us being happy. I tried to feel blessed but all I felt was cold. It was time to go back to bed.
We got back upstairs and Compass had found our abandoned bed. We couldn't bear to kick him out so we curled up around him, snug and warm. I laid on my back and put my hand on my belly and wondered if we had been blessed by the light, if it would bring us luck. I thought of what I wanted for you, if we would miss it because I hadn't been able to articulate my hopes and dreams in those few moments under the moon. It came to me then, simply: I hope you are extraordinary. That was it. That was all. I thought for a moment about trudging back downstairs, back outside, back under the light to clarify what I was asking, what I was hoping for. But I knew the moon was still shining on us, and that we would always be like this - we will show you amazing things. We will stand with you under the moonlight. We will do our best to make sure you are blessed. We won't always know what to say, but we will always, always love you. And as long as we are there, together, that will be enough.
Love,
Mama
There was some rhetoric on the interwebs not only about the rarity of this event, but about the sacred meaning of the solstice combining with the energy of a lunar eclipse. You know that I am even less of a religious scholar than a scientist, so I didn't understand a lot of what was said except that the combination of these two events would be a time of reflection and personal transformation. As my body even now starts to swell in preparation for your growth, this seemed to me to be appropriate, and I suddenly couldn't wait to stand with you in the moonlight.
When the alarm rang at 2:30am, it was not quite as romantic as I'd hoped. We stumbled out of bed and tried to find some sweatshirts in the dark. We woke up our entire zoo of furry animals and they began to stretch and weave under our feet. We tripped and swore. We made it down the stairs and out the back door. At first, I couldn't even find the moon. And, man, it was COLD! We stood on the deck and gazed at the moon. It really was beautiful - all red and spooky-looking. I waited to feel something magical. I hugged your Dad and asked him if he was saying a little prayer. He nodded, either because he was, or because he was already falling back to sleep. I tried to think of the perfect thing to say. I mumbled something about you being healthy, about us being happy. I tried to feel blessed but all I felt was cold. It was time to go back to bed.
We got back upstairs and Compass had found our abandoned bed. We couldn't bear to kick him out so we curled up around him, snug and warm. I laid on my back and put my hand on my belly and wondered if we had been blessed by the light, if it would bring us luck. I thought of what I wanted for you, if we would miss it because I hadn't been able to articulate my hopes and dreams in those few moments under the moon. It came to me then, simply: I hope you are extraordinary. That was it. That was all. I thought for a moment about trudging back downstairs, back outside, back under the light to clarify what I was asking, what I was hoping for. But I knew the moon was still shining on us, and that we would always be like this - we will show you amazing things. We will stand with you under the moonlight. We will do our best to make sure you are blessed. We won't always know what to say, but we will always, always love you. And as long as we are there, together, that will be enough.
Love,
Mama
Monday, December 20, 2010
Countdown to Christmas with the Yings: December 19
Ah yes, here is the great sweater switcheroo in which M is now wearing MY sweater and H is wearing HER sweater. Wish I knew who gave me theirs though, because I know you can't really see it but that sweater was AWESOME. Also, nice pants, M. W is sure lucky to be getting a girl with such fashion sense.
Countdown to Christmas with the Yings: December 20
Man did we Yings love those pictures on the stairs. PS We still do this every year. You should see all five of us, A included, fit on those steps. My mom is going to need to invest in a wide angle lens soon...
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Countdown to Christmas with the Yings: December 18
This year, J goes from being a total stude to being a total stud WITH GLASSES. Also, M grows like two feet while I stay the same size. Seriously compare this photo to December 17. Yikes!
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