Moving On... but Taking It All With Me

18 days and counting.

I thought I'd be so disciplined and write everything down. The moment I first felt her. The moment her daddy first felt her. And hopefully I will before I forget it all.

Tonight I am making playlists for my iPod - a great suggestion made by the doula that taught our birthing class. During active labor (pre-pushing) that the goal is to relax and endure the contractions while remaining upright and mobile - or calm me during transition labor and get me to focus. Or perhaps to keep me 'pumped up' while pushing. All kinds of music for many situations.

I'm going through my library and dropping songs in here and there. Going through some of the songs, I began wondering if I would want to hear songs that are attached to poignant memories. I hovered the mouse over a few, but in the end, those memories are from events that molded me. And perhaps some of those songs will eventually hold new memories.

Something?

20 weeks.... I had my latest check up this week. My weight gain (or lack of a lot), belly size, and uterus are "fantastic". Every visit the nurse has to dig and poke and prod to find the baby's heartbeat. As soon as she put the "microphone" to my stomach, the heartbeat was loud and clear! Then the baby moved slightly, but we picked it up right again. Since I have yet to feel any movement, this was great. I keep poking and holding my breath for the "flutter" everyone talks about. Nothing.

This morning I was in bed eating my breakfast. In true relaxed fashion, I had my bowl resting on the top of my stomach. I watched it rock with the beat of my heart I could feel inside me. After a few minutes, I moved the bowl on top of my uterus and held very still. I SWEAR the bowl was rocking in double-time. So I moved the bowl back and forth from stomach to uterus a few times. Sure enough - the rhythm was different.

Not very high-tech or scientific. But lovely.

Names

People always ask what names I have chosen for the baby. To be honest, I just started thinking about the subject. I actually had a list started a year ago - something to keep around for when the time came. Is that very female of me?

My husband and I were walking today and settled on the strongest possibility for a girl's name. I've been warned by some not to tell people the name until the baby is born. You can share the sex, sure - but the name, no way. It still surprises me to consider this, but I guess it is very commonplace for people to share their displeasure with a name before the child is actually born. I would never consider sharing my opinion with someone. I suppose I am seeing the reality and benefit of it. My husband has already stated that you can't name the baby until it is born - what if it doesn't look like it's name? Good thought.

So in the meantime - till we make a final decision on what to share - it shall remain Heroditus.

A Good Sign

Today we hosted an old friend of my husband's. He and his wife delighted us with their 1 1/2 year old, Catherine. She was quite boisterous and chatty. Very expressive vocally and physically, despite not saying any intelligible. She was fun.

We spent some time in the backyard. She got a kick out of watching Curtis kick the ball and watching Cooper fetch it. I noticed Cooper keeping an eye on her and running up to her when she ventured into certain parts of the yard (keep in mind, he's taller). He would run along side her and put his mouth on her hands, lightly "mouthing", yet not biting. He would nose her in the shoulder and try and get in front of her. I soon realized that his brand new, 14" smoked bone was in the vicinity. We moved the bone and all was good. As Catherine moved up and down the stairs from the deck to the yard he would do the same thing. Again, we realized he must have something buried under the deck next to the steps. Due to her size, he approached her as a threat - yet did not respond that way to her parents - people unfamiliar to him.

It was interesting to watch Cooper around their daughter. He was quite interested in her diaper, licked hands and feet. Sniffed her ears and neck. She was very tolerant and not scared - quite impressive for such a young one. She would just giggle and squirm when he approached her.

As we try and gauge how Cooper will respond to our own child, it was interesting to watch his behavior around her. The slight, gentle - yet serious - warnings that something less gentle could happen - if we're not vigilant. It was interesting to watch - and I believe, a good sign.

Thank God I just have to give birth for now...

Sunday mornings usually find C, Coop, and I hiking through one of our usual haunts. This morning it the canals, a series of ponds and trails next to the Rock River surrounded by scrub forest. There is a lot of shade (good for us) and a lot of swimming (good for Coop).

These walks have become a Sunday ritual I look forward to (especially now - post-morning sickness). I suppose it has become our own Humanist house of worship. I learn the names of native plants and species, join in the killing of Japanese Beetles, and converse on rearing Castlehaven. This morning's topic? Spanking. Extra-curricular activities.

My husband and I were both spanked as children. He is a proponent of spanking. I am not. During a lecture on learning theories in grad school, we were discussing positive and negative reinforcement. Spanking is your classic negative reinforcement example. Upon discussing this, my professor offered up this remark, "The only time you should spank your child is if he or she is in imminent danger of hurting him/herself". I suppose his statement clarified my opinion on the subject. A pop on the butt to stop a child about to run into the street. It makes sense - but at the same time, spanking does nothing to instruct the child on proper behavior. And frankly, I feel there are children out there to whom there would be a much more effective form of punishment. "If all I have to endure for doing X is a swat on the butt, I'll happily get that punishment - and keep on doing X". I feel the punishment should fit the child. So many circles we went in - and I believe our intent and our process was the same. An intervention (his - spanking, mine - to be determined!), a discussion on what was done wrong, a discussion on what is a better choice, etc.

Extra-curricular activities. C and I grew up doing some of the same things. We both took piano lessons into Junior High upon which time we stopped, but instead took up playing an instrument in band. We were both very active in music throughout our schooling and both wish we had kept up with our piano skills (doesn't everyone?). I spent my younger days in gymnastics, swimming, and softball. He was heavy into Tae Kwon Do with a smattering of baseball and swimming. While he detested the last 2, he sees great benefit in swimming. I see it as a life skill necessary to get along. Maybe like being able to drive manual transmission. I think we both have a desire that our child be active in areas that teach them discipline, coordination, committment, etc. The conversation turned interesting when we discussed, "At which point do you let them decide?" C quit track with a month left in track his junior year - stress on his knee and too many A.P. classes. My opinion - no discussion. Health and grades come first. But to just quit because you don't like it? In the middle of a season - or because you just don't like it anymore? That's a hard one. Giving up control will be a hard one for me. Allowing them to dress themselves when all they want to pick is that scrubby sweatshirt instead of the cute little dress - it starts small for me. At which point do you let them take over the reigns? Especially when you see them quitting something that could be so good for them?

In the end, I'm glad I don't give birth to a 5 year old.

New Beginnings

I have been meaning for some time to revive the blog. Get on a schedule. Give little updates. Create a journal to remember this time.

I'm just over 13 weeks pregnant. I'm entering my second trimester. Right now, the baby is the size of a peach, a small peach albeit. The nausea is subsiding. My pants are getting a bit snug. I have a stack of books I refer to daily. I read every week what is developing, how big the baby is, etc. I definitely love anything by Dr. Sears - I proudly announced one Saturday evening that I learned how to breastfeed. Then I proceeded to demonstrate the correct method, what to look for to know things are working correctly, various positions to try, etc. I suppose its like reading a book on how to ride a bicycle.

I like to push out my stomach and gauge where my feet are. I am on the cusp of a pregnant belly. Right now - it's still a belly. My bust looks as though I could feed sextuplets. I suppose that's been the biggest plus of the first trimester. That and I managed to grow long nails on one hand - just one hand and only on 4 fingers. I suppose both add a bit of femininity when I don't feel well; I gaze at my pretty nails when I can't lift my head off my desk. I think I'm beyond dreaming of that round stomach I see in the maternity ads. I am just proud of my body for intuitively knowing what the baby needs. My mother has told me that during birth and the early months or year, your body is not your own. You are a vessel. You are a feeding machine. A source of comfort. I suppose this process of letting my body take over and do its work is the beginning of it - and good preparation.

I share stories with my mother, and she encourages me to write these things down. C and I will like reading them years from now - as will our little one.

So, Herodotus. In an effort to refrain from saying "It", we've taken to calling the baby different names. We have our favorites based on anything from Greek historians to favorite bands to made-up names. Herodotus (5th century Greek historian). Little Yob (favorite band of C's with "Little" attached to denote a sort of fondness or cuteness). Castlehaven (who knows).

Work has been quite stressful lately. I feel as though I am slipping in my work, not staying on top of projects as I am used to. I consistently receive unsolicited reassurance that I am producing material at a rate and of a quality above and beyond what they had hoped. For myself, it doesn't always feel like enough. At the end of a 11+ hour day on the drive home, I just felt drained. And lonely. The feeling of swimming against the tide in a great vastness and making little progress. As I drove and let the tears flow, it occurred to me that I wasn't alone. It was remembering just in time you put something in the oven and didn't set the timer because you knew you'd remember. While I am always mindful of my pregnancy, I sometimes forget what that means. When that happens, I pat my belly and say, "Hi, baby. Mama's here".

Rant

So, I promised a blog on a series of work-related topics, and I shall deliver. Not the wine, B&B induced rant I had hoped to deliver (it would give a certain something to the piece), but rather a 3rd giant cup of coffee and lots of cool sunshine rant. It may be even better.

As look to move on to the next work-related chapter in my life, there are thing in my job to which I will happily say "sayonara". However, I am aware that other equally irritating things await me - it's just par for the course in life. Anyone that has ever worked retail has a list. Here's just a few of mine.

1. (Customer picks up a pair of khaki or black pants and says..) "What would you wear with these?" Umm.. Are you kidding me? They're khaki. They're black. They're a neutral-freaking color. You SAY you're a fan of "What Not to Wear" - do you remember what Stacy and Clin-ten say about neutrals? Oh - wait. I forget myself. This IS the Midwest. You ARE wearing a periwinkle sweatshirt embroidered with pandas and green threads protruding from the sweatshirt imitating bamboo shoots. I forgot to show you our periwinkle capris. And may I add on the requisite accessories - perhaps periwinkle socks and a scrunchi? Are you freaking kidding me? For goodness sake, PLEASE obssess over a pair of $20 pants for an hour - tug, pull, show me how the crotch is too tight, Pu-LEASE! Is your life that uninteresting and routine - that simple and easy - that you must create difficulty and strife where there is none? You are not your possessions.
2. "I was hoping you could help me find something to just wear around the house (include sweeping gesture made with right hand). I had in mind something nicer than jeans, but perhaps not as dressy as slacks". (Mouth agape, then quick head shake.) I'm sorry - did I wake up in Salem? Is your name Marlena? Where's John Black? Did Stefano drug and hypnotize you and put you up to this? DO YOU LIVE IN A FREAKIN SOAP OPERA? Who does that? Who wakes in the morning, showers and dresses for a day on the couch? In case the vicar comes to tea? Myself, I am known for parading through my house (on casual Friday's, mind you) in red silk robes with ostrich-feather topped kitten heels. A china teacup with perhaps 1 lump of sugar - perhaps a snifter of brandy from the crystal set on the silver tray if I'm feeling randy.
3. "Can you tell me what I owe on my credit card bill?" Why of course. Let me tear up your 3 month old statement you're showing me and call the credit card company. Then - let me get the run around from them and incomplete answers because I'M NOT YOU AND HAVE NO ACCESS TO YOUR ACCOUNT AND YOU ARE TOO DIM-WITTED TO KNOW WHAT TO ASK AND UNDERSTAND THEIR RESPONSE. Then, to top it all off, when I politely and patiently pull up your transactions to show you how the math works out - add here for a purchase, subtract there for a payment, INTERUPT ME - PLEASE INTERUPT ME. Over and over and over. With the SAME stupid question that has NOTHING TO DO WITH THE PROBLEM! Tell me how you shopped in Topeka but they didn't have petites either. So you ordered your periwinkle capris and returned them. And I nod and smile and show you were those charges and credits are - on your 3 month old statement. Then question how you can use your credit card today when you used it last week - and you're just not sure how that works. Do the world a favor, lady. CUT UP YOUR CREDIT CARD. If you can't understand how it works, then do us all a favor and don't have one. Cash is your friend. Cash is your simple, easy-to-understand friend.

Here's to you, Katie.