That Time I Had A Baby (Part 1)

Hi, friends and what few readers I may have out there.  Clearly, my hopes to chronicle my pregnancy on here were in vain.  It was a whirlwind 40 weeks, and although I loved being pregnant, I never quite found the time or energy to write about it.  I know someday I’ll regret this, but there’s no fixing that, so onward!  Let me tell you about our daughter!

GUYS WE HAVE A DAUGHTER!

Image

Yup, I made this person.

We have a daughter and her name is Sadie.  She has big blue eyes, pouty little lips and a full head of dark, fluffy hair.  She looks like her papa most of the time but when she looks like me, I swear she looks just like how I remember looking as a tiny person.  She has a huge smile and a husky little voice and a dimple under her left eye.  She is exactly who I was expecting and nothing like what I had imagined.  In short, she is magical.

And not to brag, but I brought her into the world!  Sadie was born on her due date(!), May 5, 2013.  The story of her birth is, at least to me, crazy and funny and fascinating.  Let me impart it to you.

I had planned to work up until I went into labor so I could maximize my maternity leave, but as my due date approached, I could feel myself slowing down.  My body was ready to be done. At my midwife appointment the week before I was due, my midwife looked me over and asked, “if I wrote you a note, would you feel okay leaving work?”  And yes, I decided that would make me feel okay.  While I was concerned that I’d be sitting around for weeks waiting for this kid, I was undeniably tired, and my commute to work, which included a bit of walking each way, was becoming more and more taxing.  So I went in the next day, note in hand, and informed them that that day – Tuesday, April 30, would be my last.  As it turned out, that was just in time.

After making sure my desk was in order and my temp replacement properly trained, I hunkered down for what I thought could be days of nesting and waiting.  I was born 10 days late and my husband was three weeks late, so I knew there was a chance that this kiddo would be similarly tardy.  Still, by the third day after I left work, I’d felt nothing, and was already starting to feel antsy and impatient.  I hadn’t even reached my due date, mind you, but I was just so. Ready. To be done.  That Friday, May 3, we went out to see our friends Hallelujah The Hills play a show at the Sinclair.  I hadn’t been doing much going out at that point, but I thought maybe dancing around at a rock show would help things get moving.

Hallelujah The Hills that night, playing some baby-freeing music.

We had a great time – the band even gave us an impending-baby shoutout – but I didn’t feel any different when I went to bed that night than I had before.

And then the next morning, Saturday, May 4, I woke up to my first contraction.

…to be continued!

signature

Advertisements

Checkin’ In, or, Gettin’ Emotional.

I’ve got some pretty bad pregnant blogger guilt right now, y’all.  This is a time when I should be documenting everything, but instead my brain is full of things like stroller choices and pregnancy-friendly burlesque costumes.  In my downtime, I’ll start a blog post and then inevitably end up on Buzzfeed* or reading A Feast for Crows.

Basically, I’ve seem to have some sort of gestational ADD.   

So, let’s see.  I’m currently at 29 weeks (!) but haven’t taken a belly photo in a while, so here’s my 24-week one.  Imagine that plus five more weeks’ worth of gestating (and eating).

704097_685246548963_2031110600_o (1)

Shit ain’t getting any smaller.

Despite my fuzzy mental state, though, I have to admit I am one of those obnoxious women who loves being pregnant.  Sure, I’ve been feeling the less-than-wonderful effects, too.  My back and hips ache, my balance is off, I get out of breath if I talk too much, and some days there’s nothing I’d like more than to just drink an entire bottle of red wine.  There are times that I’m ready to be done, ready to have an identity outside of “pregnant chick,” ready to meet this kid!  But still, there’s just something so strange and exciting about walking around growing a future human in my belly.  Maybe it’s the extrovert in me, but I can’t say I mind the attention it brings.  People love to touch my belly.  And I (usually) love it when they do.  Because what’s better than having people lavish love on me and my daughter?  People who’ve never met me think she’s wonderful and special.  And I may be biased here, but she kind of is, right?  She is new and fresh and nobody has ever been or will ever be quite like the person she will become.

A couple of months ago, late into a pre-holiday evening at the bar, our friend Jaime asked if she could talk to the baby.  She bent low and spoke close, almost touching, next to my belly.  It was loud at the bar and I couldn’t hear a word she said, but she must have said a lot because she was down there a while, and I found myself getting teary.

It’s humbling to see the love that’s already waiting out here for my kid.  I wonder sometimes if she can sense it.  Does she hear the many voices of the people who can’t wait to meet her, murmuring through my skin to her new ears?  Can she feel the hands and arms and hugs lavished upon me?  Does she hear it when her sweet papa speaks to her through my belly button, or plays her grandpa’s guitar for her?  There are so many people who love her so much already.  And me!  I have no idea who she is or will be, but I already love her so ridiculously much.  What a weird feeling it is to love someone you’ve never met.

7942ddce727d11e2b1d222000a1fb859_7

Papa speaks into the baby-phone.

Maybe this is why I haven’t written much about pregnancy – it gets me all emotional and teary if I think about it too long.  I’ve always been a tad on the mushy side; being knocked up just seems to have pushed me over the edge.  Now it’s all puppies and rainbows and tiny little baby booties.  Sheesh.  I’m hopeless.  You’ve ruined me, little baby.  Soon I’ll start collecting Precious Moments figurines and it’ll all be over.

signature

* I pretty much died while reading this one.

Transmissions from Preggo Brain

So last week, I somehow managed to forget my winter coat at home when going to upstate NY for Christmas.  While this was certainly not its first appearance, this was definitely the best example of what I’ve been calling “Preggo Brain.” I realize this is not a phenomenon that is unique to me, but it has nonetheless been interesting.  Aside from apparently deciding I didn’t need a winter coat in December, my own brand of Preggo Brain has looked like this:

  • Walking into a telephone pole while texting
  • Narrowly avoiding a meltdown when being told at Target that their registry was down
  • Falling over onto two chairs at a bar
  • Bawling at Liz Lemon’s “Planty” dream sequence on 30 Rock

…so basically, pregnancy – specifically, the second trimester – has made me clumsy and emotional and maybe a bit of a jerk.  Also, Preggo Brain seems to be bad for blogging.  I need to get better at that; this is a magical time that I need to be documenting, or something, etc. etc.  Still, I love the perks, like having people give up their seats for me on the T, and this genius belly band thingy that enables me to wear my pants COMPLETELY unzipped.  Seriously, I’ll be wearing this thing for the rest of my life.

In other bebe news, we found out a few weeks ago that our spawn is a LADY BABY (with an absurdly adorable nose):

900x900px-LL-bacfca0c_kiddosmall2

The creature!

And, here’s a little visual update for those of y’alls who like belly pictures:

12

12 weeks: more beer than baby

17

20

She’s half-cooked!

(Yeah, I need to clean that mirror before the next belly photo.)

So, that’s what’s up in the land of my womb and its inhabitant.  I’ll keep you posted on whatever bizarre things may happen next.  Oh, and Happy Effing New Year, friends.  Needless to say, I’m pretty damn excited for 2013.  I hope you are, too.

signature

What I Did on My Summer Vacation (Part 3): Sh*t Gets Real

All right, let’s just get on with it, shall we?  I did a lot this summer, but summer gets farther away every day and rather than report on every lovely, sun-soaked moment, I’ma get to the good stuff.

Because there was one thing I did this summer that trumps playing flapper dress-up, exploring Colorado, and even reuniting with dear old friends.

I did something big, you guys, and I didn’t do it alone.

WE MADE A HUMAN.

Yup.  Mission: Conception 2k12 was a success (and a quick one – looks like the mister and I have fully functional downstairs parts).  Our creation is set to debut early May 2013, which means I’m now happily in the magical second trimester.  The first trimester was pretty horrible, to tell the truth, but I won’t go into every pukey detail.  Instead, here’s an excerpt from the little green notebook (“EPP Pregnancy v. 1.0”) I’ve been carrying in my purse:

Sunday 9/9/12: Hereby commencing week six.  So far, I’ve felt, oh, a thousand different things, including but not limited to:

disbelief
joy
anxiety
sadness
nausea
fatigue
desire to eat only mayonnaise
giddiness 
extreme tit pain/swelling

Things I want nothing to do with right now are mainly:

bras
anything that smells like anything
anyone who doesn’t know I’m pregnant yet (because it’s like a free pass to act weird/bitchy/exhausted/lame/etc.)  

I’m trying to work on my new routine for our show in a couple weeks, but I’m not finding it easy for some reason.  Maybe all my creative energy is in use elsewhere in my body?  Or maybe nausea and cannibal-themed burlesque don’t mix?  Odd that I’m doing this routine that’s all about death and destruction, all the while, unbeknownst to most people, my body is secretly doing just the opposite.

Cue “Circle of Life” here?

So there you have it, folks.  This summer I made a freakin’ baby.  It’s safe to say this blog will be taking a turn for the pregnant, but I hope to keep it not entirely baby-centric, since my life is still many other things, especially while this little apple* is still ripening.  I still want to keep performing as long as I feel up to it, so expect perhaps some thoughts on preggo burlesque in the future.  I’ll try to keep the nursery inspiration to a minimum.**

* That is, until Sunday, when it will magically turn into an avocado!

** Mainly because we probably won’t have an actual designated nursery.  C’mon, we’re poor renters, and all my costumes and stuff aren’t just going to disappear!