This is the longest period between blog entries since I started writing at the end of November, so I might be a little rusty. Yesterday was the official six week mark for the dumplings. They are now the size of a lentil or a pea, depending on what I am reading. I find myself talking to them all the time.
This is my official six week picture. Not much has really changed on the outside yet, but I do feel more fullness in my abdomen and there is more of a pooch there. Someone talked me into doing this weekly picture … we’ll see how long it lasts.
There seems to be a lot going on down there. I have read the babies are making one million cells per minute. I am not even sure how that is possible. Maybe it explains why I sleep for ten hours every night, and take a nap in the afternoon.
Since finding out I am pregnant everything has changed. How I think about everything has changed. How I react to everything has changed. How I dream about the future has changed. All thoughts lead with, what is best for us as a family?
I even see the changes in Jonathan. We are both hyper-aware of the need to take the best possible care of ourselves knowing our children are going to have a 8+ year parental age deficit on most of their friends. I don’t want them to feel it by getting tired all the time. I’ve been to yoga three times since I last wrote. Jonathan has been attending regular spin classes. Of course, he is still feeding me bacon. Probably has more to do with my pooch than any baby.
Miss, can I help you?
No thank you, I’m just looking. With my back to her, I barely choke out the words.
On Friday, I met my friend Stacey for lunch. Afterwards, I wandered into one of those shops you always find on quaint little streets like Tujunga Village (where I was). I wanted to buy so many things in the store. As I made my way into the back I saw their children’s section. It was filled with books and handmade dolls, puppets, crafting kits, wooden trains and all sort of magical toys. Not the kind you see in the big box stores.
I thought I might buy something for the nursery, but instead my eyes filled with tears. As they did, the woman asked me if I needed help. I stuck my nose in a book called, The Quiet Book and tried to hide all of this emotion welling up inside of me. I stared at all of the toys and books, played with the puppets, but I couldn’t buy anything. Not yet.
I bought some baby shoes once. Before we had a fertility doctor, my cycle was really late one month. I had convinced myself this time I was really pregnant. I went to the store and bought some cute little baby booties and a pregnancy test. I was all prepared to tell Jonathan, but it never happened. The test was negative and my cycle started three days later. I cried in bed for two days, never telling Jonathan exactly why. Never telling anyone exactly why. I was ashamed.
I was not having that sort of moment in the store on Friday, but I was still too scared to buy anything. It was such an unexpected reaction. I know I am pregnant. I have no idea how many are in there, but I think until I see it on the ultrasound on Wednesday; my eyes are always on the verge of welling up with tears. Part of that is all the emotions that come with being pregnant, I think.
I got home that afternoon, and started looking at sewing machines online. I’ve never owned a sewing machine, but I know how to use one. Granted, Memom had to help me remake my entire choir dress when I was sixteen, but I think I bit off a little more than I could chew that time. I was not ready to make a choir dress. I’m probably still not ready to make a choir dress — or, for that matter, anything with taffeta. When I was little my Mom made me dresses and she made me dolls. Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls. I still have them. I want to make the dumplings some things. Certainly not everything, but maybe a blanket and a doll?
I’ll probably decide that when I know how many are in there and what sex they are. I found this website called Rag-a-Muffin, which I really like. She makes lots of sweet things, most of them from patterns. I can follow a pattern (except for a taffeta choir dress). I figure if I get really frustrated I can just order from her — but I would like to try to make some things myself.
As I’ve gotten older I appreciate all of the artisans that craft and make things by hand. Much more so than when I was younger. I find myself not wanting to buy anything else mass produced to decorate with or put on my walls. I haven’t in a long time.
I have no idea what I am doing with the nursery except for one piece of art. The StoryPeople poster that says:
“For a long time there were only your footprints & laughter in our dreams & even from such small things, we knew we could not wait to love you forever.”
I know this poster will anchor the room. We’ll paint it a new color and I’ll make some stuff. I’m sure more will come to me as the weeks pass.
When I was in yoga last Wednesday night, I put my mat down right next to the woman who is 34 weeks pregnant. She has been taking Chaz’s class the entire time. She even flips into handstands. It’s beautiful. I asked her why she was not taking the prenatal yoga class and she said she didn’t want to be in a class with a bunch a mothers talking about being pregnant; she wanted to do yoga and have fun in Chaz’s class.
I think I will take prenatal yoga eventually, but right now I just have fun in my regular classes, too. Not every day, and I do not work at the same level of intensity because of fatigue. I noticed after my first class that I am so hyper-aware of everything going on with my body right now. I know when to push and when to pull back. My body is constantly talking to me and I am listening. When I realized this, I let go of any fears I had about exercising. After all, these are yogi eggs, so they’re used to it.
All week I’ve been listening to a CD my mother-in-law loaned me, The Byrds, Sweetheart Of the Rodeo — which I love. As I type this I am listening to The Essential Mary Chapin Carpenter. MCC is singing Late For Your Life. I forgot how beautiful this song is. It makes you think. I love songs that make you think. I feel like I’ve wasted years waiting for life to begin. Its true what the song says, for every day that ends up wrong another one is right. As I embark on this journey towards motherhood, I try to stay present so I won’t be late for my life. Life is now. Today.
No one knows where they belong
The search just goes on and on and on
For every day that ends up wrong
Another one’s right
Call it chance or call it fate
Either one is cause to celebrate
Still the question begs why would you wait
And be late for your life
Enjoy a little MCC. I love her. I hated the Oscars last night, but I won’t bore you with the nine million ways they continue to ruin an American tradition with classless humor and bad production choices. And I won’t talk about that tasteless Lincoln joke, the crass bear or the bottle of Xanax Kristen Stewart must have swallowed before walking out on stage with Daniel Radcliffe. Her hair looked like she was taking a morning after walk of shame, not presenting at the Oscars. (sigh)
I could go on and on, but instead I think about Wednesday. We get to see how many dumplings are growing in there, and I can’t wait to tell you all about it.