Category Archives: pregnancy

June 28, 2012 · 9:27 am

Luke Skywalker

The other day in the car, Dylan asked me if I was going to have another baby.  I said, “I don’t think so, honey.  Mommy and Daddy are perfectly happy with you and your brother.”  Then he told me he wanted me to have another baby and he wanted to name him.  “What would you name him?” I asked.  His response was, “Luke Skywalker.”  I thought about it and said, “Luke is a nice name.”

I wanted to tell him all of the reasons I’m not going to have another baby….

That the molar pregnancy I had before Dylan was born was devastating and turned pregnancy and birth into a frightening experience.

That I had a blood “issue” that put me at risk of clotting and bleeding simultaneously, and that the two problems didn’t cancel each other out but rather made me a medical mystery and would grant me automatic admission into the high risk pregnancy club no matter how healthy I felt.

That the mere memory of the hushed conversation between my OB/GYN and the anesthesiologist at Riley’s birth about my low platelet count, the resulting risk of a spinal bleed (and paralysis) from the spinal epidural, and the decision they had to make about whether or not general anesthesia was the better option (general anesthesia!) still makes my eyes well up.

Editor’s note:  They did the spinal and obviously I’m not paralyzed.  The risk of bleeding was like one in a million, but it still sucked.  The only reason they did the spinal instead of general anesthesia – besides my tears – was because my anesthesiologist happened to be the chief anesthesiologist at the hospital (and he was arrogant enough – in a good way and with an excellent bedside manner – to believe he was skilled enough not to kill me).  Afterwards, I was told that any other anesthesiologist in the hospital would have put me under circa 1950.

That if you combined the above medical issues with the reality of being deemed a “geriatric” pregnancy at the ripe old age of 36, you would create an Anxious Monster Mama times a million.

That the thought of experiencing morning all-the-time sickness while helping Dylan do homework and Riley do anything gave me chills.

That I didn’t want to gain 40 pounds (okay 50 pounds) (okay 60 pounds) and then have to lose it all again.

That I didn’t want to hope for a girl and feel guilty for (1) being disappointed – if only for a moment – if it was another boy and (2) having a girl and being terrified to raise her in this crazy-ass, scary world.

That Riley’s first year of life was the hardest year I’d spent as a mother or a human being (so far) because of sibling rivalry and Dylan’s yet to be diagnosed sensory processing issues, and that I was too much of a coward to risk going through it again.

That navigating through the diagnosis and treatment of Dylan’s sensory processing issues was, at times, more than I could handle.

That the thought of developing additional puffy varicose veins in my legs was depressing.

That I had no desire to be sleep deprived again.  Or change diapers again.  Or trip over baby swings, play mats, and pack n’ plays again.

That when I saw newborn babies, I thought they were deliciously adorable but felt grateful they weren’t mine.

That family vacations had finally begun to feel less like Chinese water torture and more like how they were intended to feel – relaxing (sort of), and that packing for them no longer required renting a U-Haul.

That I could finally watch Dylan and Riley play in the pool from the comfort of a nearby lounge chair rather than having to be in the pool with them and ready to save one of their lives at any moment.

That I’d rather spend money on window treatments, patio furniture, a Vitamix 5200, or varicose vein removal (or laser eye surgery for my nearly blind husband) than preschool tuition.

That Kids. Were. Expensive.

That thinking about paying for college for Dylan and his brother made me alternate between laughing nervously, drinking heavily, and having bouts of 3:00 a.m. insomnia.

That I wanted to focus on my goals and dreams again.

…but instead I said, “Dylan, my heart is overflowing with love for you and your brother and that’s more than enough.  You, Riley, Daddy, and Harry make my family complete.”  This really was just as true as all of the other stuff.  “Are you disappointed?” I asked him.  “Yeah,” he said.  I kind of was, too.

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Filed under Anxious Mama, molar pregnancy, pregnancy, sensory processing disorder

May 8, 2012 · 3:02 pm

Mondays

I had an interesting conversation with a Mama yesterday.  She’s a waxing specialist and has a daughter who is eleven.   For the sake of this post, let’s call her Wax Mama.

“How is everything?” asked Wax Mama.

“Fine,” I said,  “Just busy as usual.”  Somehow we ended up talking about the woes of parenthood.  I have to warn you, the conversation was bleak.

Wax Mama said, “My daughter hears everything!  I can’t have friends over because my daughter listens to every word.  I can’t have a glass of wine at dinner because she doesn’t like that either.  I can’t do anything around her.  Girls are impossible!”

No wine at dinner?  What kind of evil child would do that to her Mama?  Thankfully, I have boys.  They may be monkeys now, but if what everyone says about boys being easy later on is true, I’ll be fine.  Someday.  I think.  I hope.  Right?

 I told Wax Mama that I heard girls are harder than boys when they get older.  She agreed.  Then she said, “But the boys…they grow up and leave you.  ”

That’s crazy talk.  My boys will never grow up. I will squeeze their squishy tushies forever.

I said, “My boys are such Mama’s boys.  It’s hard to imagine them ever growing up.  I can’t even think that far ahead.”

“Keep them close as long as you can,” warned Wax Mama.  “Time goes by fast.  They’ll be grown up before you know it, and then they’ll marry another woman and be gone.”

Oh God.

Then we talked about weekends.  This, I could relate to.  I told Wax Mama how exhausting the weekends are.  “There’s soccer practice, swimming, chores, and dragging the kids around to run errands.  There are no naps and no breaks, and even if we’re lucky enough to have a babysitter on a Saturday night, they still get up at 6:30 on Sunday morning.  It doesn’t end until Monday morning.”

“Monday is the best day of the week,” said Wax Mama.  “My daughter goes to school and I have Mondays off.”

Bingo. 

“I love Mondays, too,” I said. “Mondays are like Saturdays for people who don’t have kids.”

Wax Mama said, “I see pregnant women all the time.  They’re so excited about having a baby and I just want to scream at them, ‘Your life is over!’”

I told you it was depressing.

A few hours later, in Target, a young man and woman stood in line behind me with just one item in their basket – a home pregnancy test.  (My basket, on the other hand, was filled with evidence of parenthood:  Annie’s Organic Snack Mix, flushable wipes, and dish soap.)  After my morning with Wax Mama, you might be wondering if I grabbed the test kit out of their hands, waved it in front their naïve faces and screamed, “Don’t have a baby!  Saturdays will never be the same!  Your life will be ruined!”

I didn’t.

Instead, I was flooded with memories of all the times I drove to the store to buy pregnancy tests.   I remembered the anxiety and excitement I felt about taking the test, the disappointment I felt when the test was negative, and the delight and fear that engulfed my whole body when the stick actually said “Pregnant.”  I remembered how precious and delicate I felt, and I remembered the overwhelming sensation that everything was about to change.  I remembered – despite my bitch-fest with Wax Mama earlier in the day – that being a parent is just plain remarkable.

Assuming that young couple in Target actually wants to have a baby (they were holding hands), they have many wondrous firsts to look forward to and experience before the reality of the life-long, self-sacrificing, and unconditional commitment of parenthood (and the end of Saturday as they know it) settles in.  What do Wax Mama and I have to look forward to?  Mondays.   At least we have Mondays.

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Filed under motherhood, parenting, pregnancy, Uncategorized