Ramble Ramble

I’m finding I have a ton of thoughts I really need to share about my labor and Jackson’s arrival in this world, but I’m still sort of working through some of them. Now that we’re getting the hang (a little) of having a newborn around, I figure it’s time for me to get back to this blog so that I can record my feelings in this unique time in our lives. Over the next few days, I’m hoping to get all my thoughts down about labor, my c-section, the first few days/weeks with a baby, and how life has changed.

But before I can get to any of that, I feel like I have to share why the timing of Jackson’s arrival in this world was sadly bittersweet. I can’t write about it even half as eloquently as my husband already has, so you should go read his blog post.

Let’s just say that such grief and such joy should never have to be so intertwined.

Over the years, I’ve moved a decent amount. Not just within a city (though I’ve done that too), but big giant moves that have taken me hundreds or thousands of miles away from family and friends. I’m proud of every single one of those moves I’ve done as an adult, since they’ve given me exposure to new cultures and ideas and thoughts. Those moves have really shaped who I am, my ideas on people and religion and politics and a whole lot of other things, and I wouldn’t change those experiences for the world.

But, of course, there is a downside to all those moves–the being away from family and friends. See, I’m not a really outgoing person in real life. In fact, I would go so far as to label myself shy (with strangers)…maybe introverted is a better term. Anyway, because of this, I don’t make friends very easily. I’ve never been one who has loads of friends wherever I go, or someone who can talk to anyone in the room (that’s my husband, the social butterfly). So I often find myself surrounded by lots of acquaintances, but few friends. And as I’ve moved around the country, it’s become even more pronounced when I do leave my friends behind.

When I got married, there was no bachelorette party for me. My bridesmaids were scattered across the globe (California, Texas, and Scotland), with a lot of my close friends & cousins back in Arizona, Texas or Oklahoma. Me being in New York made the logistics of a bachelorette party pretty much impossible. It was no big deal, but definitely one of those occasions where my geography paired with my lack of friend making came into play.

I’m finding the same thing with this pregnancy. My mom is in Texas, so she hasn’t been able to be as involved in this pregnancy as either of us would have liked. I call her a lot, and we’ve found this online video service that helps, but it kind of sucks not having her close by for all this. Sometimes a grown woman still needs her mom, you know? Particularly when she’s about to have her first baby.

The ladies here at my work threw me a small baby shower yesterday, which was super sweet. As we were sitting there chatting, one of the ladies asked, “So how many other showers are you having?” And I said, “Oh, this is the only one.” She clearly didn’t believe me. But when your family and friends are spread out across at least 7 states  and you don’t have a lot of female friends locally (we hang with more guys than girls out here), that becomes the reality. Like the bachelorette thing, it’s not a big deal–a shower isn’t a requirement for having a kid–but it does remind me how far away everyone is. I often wonder how different this pregnancy process would have been, or how I would have felt about it, had I had that circle of females around me that I grew up with, or those friends around me that I’ve since moved away from.

It also makes me sad when I think that, unlike me, my kid is going to grow up without a million family members around. I grew up with aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents a pretty constant thing in my life. I remember lots of weekends staying with aunts & uncles, or weeks at my grandmothers, or hanging after school with cousins. I remember cutting one cousin’s hair when she was maybe 6 (oh did I get in trouble for that one), or running away “from home” with another cousin (we got in a lot of trouble for that one too), or playing out in the desert with yet another cousin. I always knew I could go to my aunts and uncles for help–they were practically second (and third, and fourth) sets of parents because they were such a part of my life. My kid won’t have those family relationships the same way because we’re so far away from everyone. There’s something a little heartbreaking about that. (Plus, no family around means no free babysitting, boo! LOL).

This post turned very down, which wasn’t really my intention. This isn’t a poor me thing–like I said, I treasure the moves I’ve made, and to be honest, I love love love where we live, and I wouldn’t do any of it differently if given the chance. But the reality of it is that every choice in life has consequences both positive and negative. And one negative consequence of all the positive moves we’ve made is the distance between me and all these people from my life.

Dear Internet,

I haven’t been totally honest with you these last few months. I’ve talked about what a bad blogger I am, and how life has gotten in the way, blahblahblah. And those things are true. But I think it’s finally time to tell you why I’m a bad blogger and how life has gotten in the way.

See internet…I’m pregnant!

Really, it’s been hard to keep this from you, but since we decided to wait until the 2nd trimester to tell the majority of our families, I just didn’t quite feel right telling the internet first. But oh how I’ve wanted to! How I’ve wanted to explain that my lack of blogging was because of a combination of exhaustion and my inability to share this news with you. How I’ve wanted to share that a two week business trip where you share a room with your coworkers during your first trimester is a little on the….odd side. How I’ve wanted to share that I haven’t had a Diet Coke since January, dear God how crazy is that??? Do you know how hard it is to come up with things to say when you’ve got a secret like this hanging out in your brain, just waiting to be told?

To answer the questions that I keep getting when I make this announcement: I’m 14 weeks pregnant, putting me in the beginning of my 2nd trimester, and due at the end of August (right around my birthday). Baby is doing fine and mom is kind of tired of being tired. I was really lucky in my first trimester as far as symptoms go–other than being mildly nauseous and the aforemention exhaustion, I’ve been fine. N.C. and I are both insanely excited as well as a little terrified (I think those are the expected emotions, yes?).

I promise this blog won’t be all baby, all the time–honestly, I’m not sure I’m cut out for true mommy blogging. But this is a strange, weird process, this being pregnant thing, and I know there will be days when the stories beat anything else I could ever write about. If only to tell you all the random, weird-ass things my husband says occasionally (I swear, our child has no chance of being normal with N.C. as daddy).

The whole being pregnant thing is weird, and the whole “oh god we’re really going to have to be grown-ups now” thing is a little intimidating sometimes, but frankly I can’t wait to meet this little person and see what kind of parents we’re going to be.

Gulp. Ready or not…

You know what’s hard about getting older?

Watching your family get older. It’s fucking heartbreaking. And it about did me in over the holidays.

I’ve mentioned on here that my mom is awesome. That my mom and I have an amazing relationship (that we know we’re lucky to have and have cultivated over the years). What I may not have mentioned is that my mom likes to think she’s superwoman, who can (and does) take care of everyone and everything–my whole life she’s been a whirling dervish, with more energy, stamina and spunk than me or my friends combined. Not yet in her mid-50’s, she’s still young at heart.

So I was shocked when I saw her at Christmas. My vibrant, vivacious, energetic mother…wasn’t. Due to some pretty severe back problems, she was in pain. She had mobility problems. She moved like someone well into their 70’s or 80’s some days. It was like her body had aged 20 years in the 6 months since I had seen her last and it was a sucker punch to the gut to watch. Don’t get me wrong–her wit, and humor, and personality were all still there (ARE all still there). But it was like she was trapped in some other person’s body.

The hardest part, though, was how quickly it brought to mind thoughts I’m not too keen on having. Thoughts like, I live 1300 miles away, what if something happens to her? Or like, if she gets hurt, I won’t be here to help. Or like, what if by the time we get around to having kids, she can’t even pick up her grandbaby? Or like, please, God, not my mom, it’s not fair! Or like every horrible, morbid, painful thought you could have about a parent/friend that you love, cherish, and can’t imagine the world without?

I’ve always said, in large part because of living around my mom, that age is a state of mind. That you’re only as old as you act. Unfortunately, this holiday, I had to face the reality that that’s not true. The real truth is that age is one ugly fucking bitch who wants nothing more than to drag you kicking and screaming away from youth and vitality. And that, even worse, she usually wins.

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I want to thank everyone who commented on my post yesterday about writer’s block–it was really great to read everyone’s thoughts and responses. This is one of the many things that has been clogging up my brain, making it impossible to think about much else. I didn’t originally want to write about it because I didn’t want to upset my mom (should she ever read my blog) by talking about her health in a public forum. But I think she would understand that this is really about my fears and my pain at watching her and not about exposing her health issues. At least I hope she understands! And honestly, there are a lot of us out there dealing with watching our parents get older, so I don’t feel alone in sharing this.