Pregnancy equilibrium?

According to my friendly neighborhood pregnancy tracker, I am now 26 weeks pregnant.  And I suspect that I may have reached my equilibrium point.  People talk often about that gestational sweet spot where you are no longer experiencing the nausea and fatigue of the first trimester and have yet to arrive at the bloating and soreness of the third.  Fortunately, I do feel physically better than I have in many months.

But that’s not the pregnancy equilibrium that is currently on my mind.  I am referring to a mental state that exists at a precise point between the overwhelming terror of loss and the panic of recognition that this may actually be headed towards a good and proper outcome.

I feel like I just arrived at this point and yet I am acutely aware that this is no steady-state.  I can already feel the voice of apprehension intensifying.

You are going to have a baby, it is saying.

CRAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am genuinely afraid to confront this reality head-on. I have only ever known newborn-ness in strict association with trauma and I can only remember it as one of the most punishing times of my life.  Of course, there is something especially powerful about the grueling cocktail that is infant colic mixed with hormonal mayhem, extreme fatigue and a squirt of first-timer insecurities. I am quite sure that if this particular concoction could be recreated at will no state secret would ever be safe again.

I am reminded over and over, it is bound to be different this time.  And I will cling to that hope until the end.  But, in the meantime, I will celebrate this very fleeting thing that I’ve been granted, this sure-to-be short-lived equilibrium that is granting me a bit of serenity on an otherwise long and difficult journey.

Family ties

I have spent a lot of time wondering how different my life as a parent might be if I were lucky enough to have family nearby.  Mostly, I fantasize selfishly about having a support network with years of training in our inner workings, messy bits included.  Of course, the family in my fantasies reflects my own idealized version of this institution rather than any of the actual people who share our names.

G is far more practical about these things.  He recognizes that family can be a colossal pain in the butt and believes generally that the very best help, while challenging to find, can be purchased.  He has a point.  But that doesn’t change one very important detail: you can’t pay somebody to love your child.

During those occasions that we do get to spend time with family, I’m reminded just how right we BOTH are.  My MIL has been here visiting for the past few weeks and life has been rather challenging – and wonderful.  g has soaked up the love and attention with delight.  I have been given not one but SEVERAL opportunities to make plans sans child and each time I have returned to a happy child – monumental.

I have also been trying and failing and trying and failing to be patient, to skip over all of the little and not so little moments that have made my hair stand on end.  But these moments are making me yearn mostly for opportunities to make plans sans MIL.   I’m afraid that some of them are destined to sit with me even after she has been safely returned to her home thousands of miles away – like her hasty decision to tell g that he will be a big brother.  I have spent months planning the when and how of this discussion and, despite my apprehensions, I somehow believed that it was mine to tell.

Bristle, bristle.

But perhaps the most difficult part of this particular relationship is the part that will never go away.  It’s the fact we share something, our two precious boys, even though they aren’t easily divided and it’s almost always my turn.  It’s not something to take lightly, especially because, if I’m lucky, I may one day BE her.

On 2012

I have enjoyed reading everyone’s reflections on 2011′s exit and the arrival of 2012.  Truth be told, I am a total sucker for new beginnings.  I love the way a small calendar shift moves people to pause and examine, resolve and hope.

But this time around I’m not feeling particularly compelled to evaluate. I don’t have much in the way of resolutions to offer.

This year I’m pregnant.

What I’d really like to say is that I intend to do my best to prepare for the impending arrival. That I believe that 2012 wields the kind of magic that can make me a better mother to two than I ever was to one.  That I will discover new ways to inch my way toward greater balance, despite the upheaval.

But what I’ve learned is that pregnancy robs me of my power of self-determination.  It leaves me with no illusion of control.  When it demands, I surrender.

So this year I will do my best to succumb with dignity.  And I will grab on to a sliver of that hope that is so plentiful this time of year, dispatching an earnest request to 2012 that it doesn’t bring me anything that 2013 might not allow me to recover from.

December

December has been surprisingly generous this year in Northern California.  We have had an abundance of mild, sunny days that have encouraged us to spend most of our time outside.  On the best of days, we set out on planned get-togethers with our treasured friends.  But even on the worst of days, the parks are teeming with families and we always seem to bump into someone that we know for conversation and lessons in toy-sharing.

g has never been a good sleeper.  Although I have tried to get him on a schedule that retains a modicum of respectability, I can’t claim to have succeeded.  These days, he goes to sleep at night at a later hour than most adults I know and by the time he wakes in the morning most of his peers have been disseminating chaos for hours.  Naps have been starting around 4pm, extremely late by most toddler standards.

Our prelude to naps is usually a story and a squeeze or two and it often takes g a little time to actually fall asleep.  By the time he’s out, darkness is quickly descending upon our little bedroom and it always manages to catch me by surprise.  After an afternoon in t-shirts and sandals, I have a hard time remembering that it is indeed wintertime.  But, as the last traces of light disappear and the stillness takes over, I am thankful for our version of winter and this life that feels so wildly indulgent, this freedom to just linger.

Soon our version of winter will arrive.   There will be many days when we will be stuck indoors, isolated by the rains and viruses of the season.  Playing and conversing with friends will come at the expense of painstaking planning and I will be reminded that there is hardly any traffic in the slow lane.  But during these final afternoons of 2011, I just watch until the darkness robs me of my vision.  And then I listen – to the silence of a winter afternoon, to the rhythmic sounds of g’s sleeping breaths.

Happy Holidays

Happy holidays to you and yours!!

Updates from baby watch 2011/2012:

No more scary episodes (whew), even if it is all still awfully frightening.

No explanation for the spotting but my doctor is optimistic and so, I’ve decided, am I (for now).

Although we are far away from family this Christmas, we are celebrating with beloved friends, strengthening my conviction that family is about much more than blood relations.

Wishing you all the best during this holiday season!

Silence

No thuds yet, graciously.

The spotting stopped fairly quickly and has not returned since.  I debated calling my doctor, for reassurance, of course, but I decided against it, mostly because I know that there is really nothing she or anyone can DO right now.  It is far too early for delivery and, sadly, there is little else to be done.  Second trimester spotting is usually a result of something affecting the placenta and all we can really do is wait and hope.  Wait and hope.

I suppose that 24 hours of serenity is better than nothing at all.

In the meantime, a huge thank you for your supportive comments.  I am hanging on dearly to the knowledge that this could turn out just fine.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I met with my Dr a few days ago and we poured over the facts of this pregnancy.  Everything looks good, she concluded.  It seems your past experiences were probably just bad luck.  I came home feeling pretty good.  G and I had our first conversation about it as if it were going to happen.  It felt a bit awkward. New territory, I suppose.

Yesterday I made a decision to change the way I live this pregnancy from here on.  I have been so conditioned by my experience with g and his twin, which was fraught with complication from early on. I was told to take it easy and so I spent my months staying as far away from living as I possibly could.  I became a shut in, afraid to waste even the smallest of efforts on anything that happened to concern the present tense.  I existed, as still as humanly possible, and just waited for the other shoe to drop.  Eventually, the giant thud arrived.

I decided not to do that again.  Yesterday, I tried on the guise of the sanguine pregnant woman. I went for a walk. I met a friendly woman at the park, 7 months pregnant, and exchanged chit chat about having a second while our sons scrambled about, omitting all of my usual qualifiers.

I told my family.

Today I woke up feeling a little strange.  I felt cramping. Then I discovered the spotting.   Neither is acceptable at 18 wks.

I don’t think I would feel much different if thunderbolt-wielding Zeus himself had stepped down from Olympus and told me not to forget where I belong.

Today I’m back in my old oversize clothes, all the better to conceal the bump. Except for the fool’s cap – that’s new.

And now I’m just waiting for that giant thump.