Due Date

Due today. No baby. Colin was the only baby of mine who was not "late".

I am desperate to give birth.

That's all I have to say right now.

tiny little check in

38 weeks. No baby. Going to resist the urge to complain about late pregnancy in late July...


So, on to something totally unrelated, but that I've thought many times when coming to my little blog. I LOVE the posts by other moms with young children along the lines of "we've been too busy for me to update..." I love reading that people are enjoying their lives/children so much that the blog has collected some dust. It's happened here more than a few times, and it's just life. It's awesome.


Another totally unrelated topic? Today is the annual FIA picnic. It's the first time I haven't been there since 1998!!! I was going to try to make it, but regular daily life is difficult right now, and I made the decision to stay put. I'm really missing my first born, but I think we'll have a visit soon after this little one is born.


So, I think I'll go reminisce...

One More Shift

Tomorrow is my last shift at work. I could do jumping jacks. I'll be 37 weeks tomorrow. I was originally going to work up until my due date, like I did with Jeb, but somewhere around 30 weeks I made the decision to go out at 37 weeks. Physically, this pregnancy is so much harder than my last 2. I think taking care of Jeb and working nights has a lot to do with it. When I was pregnant with Jeb, I slept whenever I wanted. I was starting to get scared that I'd go into labor after a night shift, having been awake for 24 hours already. NO THANK YOU!! I want better for me and this baby. I want to start mother him/her feeling good and rested, not exhausted and in pain from work. Also, these are my last days/weeks of just me and my Jeb. (tears)

I want to cherish these last days of just the two of us.

I want to start mothering this baby feeling rested and ready.

I want to spend these last quiet evenings talking with my husband, not my co-workers.

These might be my last days of pregnancy, ever. I want to savor the sacredness of it.

I want to listen to my body, and it's telling me to slow down.

These Are The Days

I've had this thought drift through my brain almost daily for the last several months "... these are the days...", and then I get the Cranberries' song stuck in my head ;)

My Grandfather died 2 weeks ago, and we had to up and fly to Michigan for 5 days. I was 34 weeks pregnant, flying (with delays and complications) with a 3 year old and all the fun that entails. I had to see my father from whom I've been estranged for years and years. It was loaded and draining, to say the least.

I'm miserably pregnant at this point. I'm sick of hearing myself talk about heartburn and insomnia. I'm withdrawing from friends and family because, well, I'm sick of hearing myself complain. I'm ready for this birth, but know there could still be weeks left of pregnancy, and I'm still a little terrified of the reality of 2 kids.

Bennett is in a state of career crisis, and about to make YET ANOTHER gigantic shift, which has the potential to cause some major upheaval in our lives. So there's that.

And still? This song keeps popping up in my head. These are the days, to remember...

I am having the time of my life. These are the best days of my life, the days I'll miss. I love them. I love the day to day routine of raising a family. I hear my aunts, and "older" women whose kids are grown talk about the days when their kids were young, and how much they miss those times. This season of life is intense, for sure, and it's only going to get more intense in the near future. Some days I lose my cool, and longingly think back to B's and my carefree, child free Fun Days, but I truly enjoy my life more now than I did then. I'd like to live ONE of those days every now and again, but I'd already love to go back and live these three and a half YEARS over again.

Late pregnancy is a tough place to be. I'm big, hot, tired, heartburn-y, short on patience, ready but scared, and uncomfortable. But it is thrilling and amazing, too.

Life is sometimes messy, and nothing ever seems to line up into some semblance of "normal and predictable"... but whatever. These are the days, and I'm really loving them.

... and with that? My son wakes and calls for his mama. I'm it, I'm the only one who'll do right now. And quite frankly, I think that's pretty awesome right now.

My Mother Voice

I've been surprised and a bit confused by how much I'm looking forward to birthing this baby. Then the other day I had a thought: this is the first pregnancy where I've not dreaded having the baby on some level. With Colin, birth = goodbye, so obviously I was not really looking forward to delivering. With Jeb, I was just plain terrified. I was terrified of being a mom, I was terrified that I wouldn't like it. This time? I am looking forward to all of it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm just having amnesia, and if that's the case sobeit.

A few weeks ago, I was having some quiet time in my bed, and started talking to the baby. I heard myself talking, and I started weeping on the spot. I heard a mother's voice; I heard my Mother Voice. When I used to talk to Jeb pre-birth, I was akward and timid and unsure. This time? I knew what to say. I knew how to say it. I knew what the baby needed to hear. I could recognize the mama-love I was offering. I felt secure and calm and happy.

I used to think that having your first baby must be the most special, spiritual, and amazing experience. I am finding this pregnancy to be all of those things, so much more than my other 2. Every time I look at Jeb's face, I know exactly what I have to look forward to, and I have an internal "squee!". At least once a day I think to myself I GET TO DO THIS AGAIN!!! I get to do this again. What a beautiful, perfect thought. I love this baby in a way I couldn't love the boys when they were on the inside. I'm a mother now; I know how to love this baby better than I could before. I've been waiting for this baby my whole life.


I love you, baby. This family is so ready for you.

I love having a Mother Voice.


(ps. Is it wrong that I'm really really hoping that my being in such a great emotional space will encourage delivery before 42+1 weeks like Jeb went to? lol!)

At the same time...

At the same time...

... this pregnancy is physically the hardest, but emotionally the most wonderful.

... 10 weeks feels like an eternity, and not nearly enough time.

... I am struggling to stay patient with my 3 year old, and cherishing our days together.

... reveling in the sacred experience of growing a baby, and longing for it to be over.

... terrified of what life will look like with a newborn + a 3 year old, and completely relaxed and confident that we'll all figure it out.

... loving and adoring my family of 3, and cannot wait to become a family of 4.

... really really really looking forward to labor and birth, and can't believe I'm even saying those words having been through it haha!


Thank God my beloved therapist from my early 20s taught me that I can feel 2 opposite things at the same time :)

Gah, 4 months.

First, I wasn't sure how to write about pregnancy stuff without being one of those "X weeks!!! Baby is a carrot!! I don't miss ANYTHING because I am so perfectly pregnant!!!" types. Which I'm not. But anyway.

Then, the pregnancy kicked my butt up and down the block at the same time that we had the snowiest winter EVER and husband was NEVER home and Jeb was (is) in the HORRIBLE THREE's and and and....

And then it had been so long that I didn't know exactly how to come back, but I so wanted to, and promised every week --- I will write a post no MATTER WHAT this week... but that was somewhere around late March....

And now it's early May (Birthmother's Day!), and I'm in my third trimester, and I want to be back.

There are so many things I want/have wanted to write about. How physically hard but emotionally wonderful this pregnancy has been compared to my others. How this baby fits into the "adoption" part of my brain, since I'm already parenting. Colin is becoming a teenager next week-- hello! -- and my thoughts as he approaches the age I was when I got pregnant. You know, run of the mill kind of stuff that makes you start a blog ;)

Coming Out

I'm pregnant. There, I said it. I'm 7w5d today, due July 30.


I've been debating how to come out about it here, as I know pregnancy announcements are a sensitive subject in the adoption community.

I'm not going to get obnoxious about it, I promise.

November will always hold a special place in my heart.

Today Jeb and I were outside, kicking leaves, and I thought of a private journal entry I wrote last year:

November always makes me think of those weeks I waited for Jeb's arrival. He was supposed to be a November baby. Throughout the pregnancy I fantasized about the familiar sights and smells that November brings, thinking they would be the sights and smells of early labor and early newborn-ness. It was not to be (as he was 2 weeks "late"), and now those sights and smells bring me back to a place of w a i t i n g. My boy is now quickly closing in on 2 (eta 3!) , which is too much to think about sometimes.


As Jeb's birthday approaches, I can't help but get transported back in time, and relive the days/weeks/moments of excitement/anticipation/nerves leading up to his birth. The same thing happens as I approach Colin's birthday each year. I'm happy that their births are opposite each other on the calendar. Each May as I remember Colin's beginnings, my thoughts and feelings are drawn to: buds on trees, longer days, new life at every glance, a general feeling of stepping outside and giving new life. Each November (turned December) as I remember Jeb's beginnings, my thoughts and feelings are drawn to: crisp evenings, falling leaves, shorter days, and turning inward to begin mothering. It feels just right.


Welcome, November, it's good to feel you again.

T minus 15 hours.

This time tomorrow, it will be October. October 2010 is a month I've looked forward to for a decade, even before I could name the month. It's the month we are going to try. We are going to try to do something that has happened on "accident" to me 3 times. We are going to try to get pregnant. On purpose. Like, unprotected sex, during the "dangerous" time. We are going to hope my period doesn't come. We are going to smile whenever (God willing) we get a positive HPT, instead of, well, cry like I have the last 3 times.

I have been looking forward to this since about 10 minutes after Colin went to his forever home. This itch wasn't cured by my pregnancy/birth/motherhood to Jeb. Jeb was a pleasant surprise, and so when I was pregnant with him, I had a really really hard time shaking the identity of the pregnant teen. Bennett would say to me at times You know, Patti, you're not 17 anymore. This is really OK. No one is mad at you. I knew it, but I didn't know it.

So, I've fantasized about this time, about this month. In my fantasy I have zero fear or ambivalence, only a long awaited sense of right-ness, of correct-ness.

In reality I am terrified. I am so freaked out. I am excited, but nervous, and ready to back out at any minute. I started feeling like this about a month ago, and actually hoped I'd get pregnant on "accident" last month so that I wouldn't have to really actually make this decision.

Imagine my shock and horror at how I am feeling about this! I have been so disappointed in myself! Here I am, 30 years old, and FINALLY at the exact moment that I have been dreaming about for YEARS! What the fuck is wrong with me?

And then? The flood:

Am I ready for this?
Will I ever be ready for this?
Well, the kids will already be almost 4 years apart and I know I want more than 1 and I'll be 31 next year so I'd better just do it already.
Do I really want more than 1?
How can I meet the needs of 2 when I already doubt myself with 1?!
What if it takes a long time?
What if I miscarry, I am 30 after all, and many of my friends have experienced m/c.
What if I have post partum anxiety again?
What if I NEVER SLEEP AGAIN?
Am I ready to nurse 24/7 again?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I'm just thinking about growing my family, that's not so weird.
Maybe something is wrong with me.
What if I am not a good enough mother to have 2.
Have I proven myself good enough to have another?

Ok, this might sound really stupid, but I never expected any birthmother-y shit to come up. Now, I'm smacking myself in the head---- Um, PATTI! How did I not expect giving BIRTH again and becoming a MOTHER again not to bring up any BIRTHMOTHER stuff? Duh.

So there you have it. Motherhood will forever be intertwined with feelings and anxieties over being worthy/deserving/good enough for children in a more intense way than people outside the triad. Of course every mother should strive to be a terrific mother, but in my world? It's been more literal. Colin's parents had to prove to a shit load of people that they were worthy/deserving/good enough. When I was pregnant with Jeb, I had these weird feelings like I had to prove to someone that it was OK that I kept him. I would have dreams that I had to ask Colin's mother's permission to NOT give this one to her. Even now, day to day, I am constantly looking for signs that I am doing well with Jeb, or signs that I am a total failure. (this drives batshit crazy, btw). So now that I'm going to do this on PURPOSE? Well, I feel this enormous amount of pressure to come up with a very concrete and objective report to hand in to someone so the can stamp "APPROVED" on my paperwork. And the 17 year old in me would nod, and put my head down and accept it if that stamp came back "REJECTED".

Yay. There is no pretty bow with which to tie up this post. It's been floating around in my gut, and I just had to vomit it. That's all I have to say about that (for now).

My Labor Day

My Labor Day comes in May, not September.

Tomorrow my first born turns 12.

12 years ago tonight, at 0100, my water broke. I spent the entire day in labor, and gave birth in the wee hours on the 14th.

May 14 rolls around in my head almost constantly. At least 3 times per week, I look at the clock at 5:14. It's really weird, but it happens all.the.time. 514. fiveonefour. fivefourteen. oh five one four. may fourteen. May 14th. 5.14.98. May 14. May Fourteenth. It was my password for everything, for years.

BUT. May 13? That's my day. My Labor Day. That's the day I look at the clock and can tell you, at any given moment what was going on. In fact, I can tell you about the entire week. In my mind, it runs like an old film; really fast snap shots with no sound, or rather, like it's being narrated.

On the afternoon of May 11, at 39 weeks, I was running (trotting?) out to the car and tripped and fell FLAT on my belly. Everything was fine, but I always wonder if that's what lead to my water breaking less than 48 hours later.

On the afternoon of May 12 (it was a Tuesday), my boyfriend (not the birthdad) dropped me off after school and said "Call me when you go into labor tonight!" HAHAHA! We laughed!

At 0100, now Wednesday May 13, I woke up to go to the bathroom (again), stood up, and could not for the life of me figure out why I was peeing all over myself. OH! Maybe this is it! I sat on the toilet and dripped. And dripped. And hollered to my mom. She called the midwife who told me to get some rest. Oh, right, because it is so easy to sleep when you are 18 and about to give birth to a baby you will then not take home.

So, I did calculus homework. (I later asked my calc teacher for extra credit for doing homework in labor. He said no.)
I tossed and turned.
I was pretty unemotional; I was naive.
I called Colin's parents and they got ready for the drive.
I called my boyfriend in the morning; he had to go to school.
The principle said a prayer for me over the intercom.

Once the sun came up, I went to the midwife's office where ruptured membranes were confirmed, and mom and I were sent to the hospital. We got there late morning, and did the whole triage thing. I thought it was outrageous that I had to walk around dripping. I was settled into my L&D room around noon. Contractions were bearable. I was on complete auto pilot. The biggest emotion I can remember is being so excited for Colin's parents. I wanted them to get to me asap and enjoy this stuff.

I got an epidural around 3. I honest to God thought the anesthesiologist was joking when he told me I'd have to stay still during a contraction. It seemed impossible, but I shut my mouth and did it. I tried not to make any waves through any of it. There was already so much fuss and comotion over my pregnancy, I didn't want to be any more of a burden.

The afternoon dragged on. Boyfriend came to see me. We watched the Last Ever Episode of Seinfeld. Colin's parents were stuck in major traffic. Like, bumper to bumper for hours. A 3 hour drive took >7 hours that night. I felt so badly for them; I couldn't imagine the torture of sitting still on a highway while you are trying to get to your baby's birth.

I was declared ready-to-push at 10pm. Boyfriend held a leg, and mom held the other. I pushed, and nothing happened. At 11pm boyfriend had to leave, it was a school night after all. He passed Colin's parents in the hallway and they held each other and cried. Colin's mom, D, wiped my brow as I pushed. and pushed and pushed. Dad, G, waited in another room. I pushed for 4 hours. They put forceps on, and Colin was finally, mercifully born at 0159. "It's a boy! You have a son!", the Ob said to me; I appreciate that more now than I did then.

We all cried. He was so bruised. I had the hormone shakes, and remember thinking it was very metaphorical. I was being shaken into my new life. G&D held their son and looked at him like new parents do. You know that look. You can feel it on your own face when you look at your kids, esp when they are brandy-new.

Everyone went home, and we all got some sleep. Colin didn't room in with me, I didn't even think of it. Later that morning, I rang for the nurse and asked for my baby. I fully expected her to tell me "no", and I would have accepted that. I was surprised when she said "yes".

G&D came back and we began this whole Open Adoption Thing. They bought newspapers with the date, fivefourteen. We all held, changed, and loved this new baby. We each rubbed our cheeks on his, and tried to honor each others' feelings.

Friday May 15, everything came crashing down. Birthdad said he would not sign. G&D brought me their car seat so I could bring my son home. I considered changing his name to Jake, but just couldn't do it. I felt so badly for my mom, she was going to have to help me a lot. I was crushed for G&D. They were crushed, too. A social worker came to my room and talked to me like I was a 5 year old; "now you know the baby needs to eat often, right?" in a very high, sing-songy voice. Yeah, lady, I was making an adoption plan, I'm not a dunce.

Saturday May 16, I took my son home. I was numb, and scared, and relieved, and sad, and scared scared scared. He didn't sleep a wink that night; we both cried much of the night.

Monday May 18 was my due date. It was my first full day alone with the baby. I read to him from The Bastard. Boyfriend thought it was inappropriate reading material for a newborn, but I reminded him: it's good for the baby to be talked to a lot, and I ran out of things to say. I started reading What to Expect the First Year, and tried to be the best mom I could.

16 and Pregnant

I don't typically watch the show, but I happened to be flipping around and found the episode about the girl considering placing her baby. She is an adoptee and her parents really really want her to place.

What a tough situation. Some of the things the mom says are way out of line, in my opinion. They really border on coercion, which makes me feel all sorts of icky inside. On the flip side, if this girl parents, her parents are taking on a huge commitment too. Whether they like it or not, they are going to help out a lot. Should the parents have some say? My gut says "no", it's really only the girl's decision, but it's hard because it affects so many people.

It's obvious the girl's mom is very pro-adoption; of course she is, it allowed her to have a family. It's almost like she is taking it personally that the girl is hesitant. The mom talks often about how much better the girl's life has been because of the choice that her birthmom made. (wow, this would have been easier to write about had I remembered any names!) I think it is really unfair of the mom to play on the girl's emotions like that. Every adoption is its own situation. Every adoptee who has an unintentional pregnancy isn't obligated to choose adoption as well as a sign to the world that they are cool with their own adoption! How crazy! Also, the girl seems to be processing her own feelings of loss wrt her adoption; I'm sure she is thinking about some feelings she would like to spare her own child. What an incredibly loaded situation. I wish the mom would back off; if this girl does choose to place, she needs to be able to own that decision and not look back years from now and think she got coerced.

I think this this is about as hard as a situation can get. If girl wants to parent and her parents are supportive: fantastic. If girl wants to place and her parents are supportive: also fantastic. If girl wants to place and her parents want her to parent: that's sad, but girl's parents will have to deal with it. But this? Girl wants to parent and needs her parents help but they are not supportive? Hard, hard, hard.

I really just should not watch the show. Most of the situations they follow are total trainwrecks, and the adoption stories are too triggery. I can't stand watching such a difficult decision get exploited.