Seven Years Later: Marriage, Love, and Commitment

Seven years. Seven. Years. Wow.

Engaged

They made a movie about this year starring Marilyn Monroe. The year is supposed to be magical in some way, some kind of transformation. But...it's not. I mean, not like the movie would have you believe. There's no itch, in fact. If anything, I feel the opposite. But maybe that's because of the journey Christian and I shared. When you go through things, it connects you. It forces you to grow together or apart. We did the former.

It wasn't just about love. Marriage is more than love. In fact, love is not enough, or at least, not immature love.

I've heard love described many ways. I think I like this best - that it transitions - growing from an immature and primal urge into infatuation. From infatuation it moves to love because. From love because, it becomes love despite.

"Despite your failures, your screw ups, I love you."

India

I've heard marriage described as a shared memory - a history you share with another person. A set of experiences that allows you to reference things no one else knows, or can.

That's why old couples have their own language - words that carry so much weight and meaning, it is impossible to understand all the layers of understanding.

I think when we first started dating Christian and I already had our own language. Now, after nine years together and seven years married, everything we say to one another has so much meaning it would be impossible for other people to understand our conversations. Our communication is no longer analog, but digital. Hell, one shared look is like a sentence. On the upside, communication is efficient. On the downside, there's room for interpretation, so it's not always effective (and can be exclusionary if we slip into it too much in public).

But that's part of what it means to have shared experience. That's part of what it means to be married.

I've also heard marriage described as an apprenticeship in your partner - a person you can never fully know, who will continue to surprise and delight you all life long.

I'm still a new student to this married thing, but I know this - it is all these things and more. Christian continues to support, annoy, inspire, frustrate, encourage, and compliment as my partner in life. He is my best friend and confidante in all things. Because of him, my life has gone in unexpected directions, and I would not be the person I am today without him. I would not have Kiddo in my life. I would not be able to laugh at myself so completely or have that ounce of reason to ground me amid a freak-out moment.

I am so grateful for my little family - for Christian and Kiddo. I absolutely love them despite. I cherish our shared experience. I look forward to many more years of apprenticeship.

A Dad & Partner

When I was younger I always saw myself as getting married and having kids, but I wasn't sure anyone could ever hold my attention long enough to actually commit. I mean, I fell in love easily enough. I fell hard several times. I was infatuated ten times that number. I could see the beauty in people, so it was easy for me to love them. But to live with them? To stay with them forever? To get married?

I don't think so.

I wasn't sure I would ever find someone who was interesting enough to hold my attention past two years. Honestly.

And then I met Christian.

*Blinks*

Christian is a comfort. We can wax poetical about the finer points of pop sci-fi, delve into the nuts and bolts of furniture design, or stoke each other's fury over the state of the world. He knows how to handle himself in a crisis and can navigate any social situation with relative ease.

Christian is also a challenge. He thinks about the world in the way that I dream up stories - it is dizzying, epic, and spectacular. He comes to things with the careful wisdom of an octogenarian and the emotional ride of a twenty something. He is a strange combination of caution and risk, observation and oblivion, tradition and avant garde.

Committed to parenthood, he intentionally works to grow as a father, just as he continues to do so as a spouse.

He is beautiful and wondrous. And I am so grateful for him.

Happy Birthday, to my life partner and best friend. We love you!

Happy Thanksgiving

Holidays are my favorite. I love the rituals of them, the time with friends and family, seasonal decorations, and of course food.

This year I am particularly thankful for:
1. Being able to cook several major dishes for T Day with Christian and my in-laws.
2. Christian's grandma joining our festivities.
3. My parents joining festivities.
4. Kiddo's sweetness and enjoyment in being at Grandma's house.
5. The opportunities we've been given for the next year. They are truly amazing and I am so excited about our possibilities as individuals and a family.
6. My husband, who works so hard and loves us so much.
7. My baby boy who always puts a smile on my face.
8. Technology that allows us to document the whole thing...

Have a wonderful holiday! May it be filled with blessings, good food, wonderful people, and beauty. This is my heart's deepest wish for everyone celebrating today.

From Two to Three and Back Again

I feel like I have motherhood down. I mean, we have routines. I research milestones before we reach them, and potential difficulties, and we are prepared beforehand. We have strong bonds: Kiddo is close to his grandparents, Christian, and myself. He eats veggies and fruit. He nurses. He likes books. He plays by himself now. Things are going well.

Of course, just because I have the mother thing down does not mean that I have the wife and self thing down. Having a baby changes who you are and your relationship with your partner. The rebalancing act required to manage those pieces is still happening over a year after Kiddo's birth. Differences in expectations came out and continue to be managed (Think: "No, playing on your phone is not watching Kiddo!" "But everything has to be PERFECT!" "I need alone time too!" "I'm really tired!").

It was clear that both Christian and I needed to be clear about what kind of parents we wanted to be as well as how we need to parent together. This was necessary not only to have a united front for when Kiddo can talk, but also for us as partners.

And then there was the issue of you know, spending time together as a couple apart from anything parent related.

I've mentioned before this past year has been rough - for many reasons. Slowly Christian and I have been wading through the quagmire and coming to a clearer better place. It has taken many late night talks, and fights, and whine fests to our respective support systems. Honestly, I still don't know what that better place means, or what all the details will be, but I am feeling better about many things.

The good moments are becoming more frequent. Our equilibrium is slowly returning. After doctoral applications (mine) are in and Ducati video classes (his) are done, I see dates in our future. Maybe even before then. And that's pretty exciting.

It is easy to forget about your partner as your partner after becoming parents, however you must remember. Integrating the new identity "parent" is part of that puzzle. Figuring out how to manage your relationship around that role is essential. This is how you truly move from committed couple or parent and child to a complete family. It may take work. It may be hard. But it is definitely worth it.

Ode to My Husband: Happy Anniversary

so expressive...

Okay, I know I already posted about money today (something on my mind as I start shelling out the big bucks to apply to grad school) but...

It is an important day. It's our 6th anniversary. So I thought I would share some things I learned/like/love about Christian, for ... giggles. :-)

Hipsters 4 LYFE!

1. Christian is very silly. While he can't express his deep emotions very well, he has an incredibly expressive face that shows every little thought that flicks through his mind. The result is a nightly laugh fest at dinner time.
2. He has child-like excitement about the world. When something strikes his fancy, he learns everything he possibly can, and then can't wait to share it all with you - even if you have no interest whatsoever. He has enough interest for the both of you.
3. Christian has an amazing autopilot. He sets up routines in his mind so strongly sometimes he forgets he is on auto pilot. He ends up doing the auto pilot anyway, even if he wanted to do something else (example: getting off the 101 at Patterson Ave exit when he wanted to get off at Fairview).
4. I have NEVER met someone with a stronger protective/crisis instinct (except maybe his mom). If there is blood, bruising, crying, or possible destruction, Christian's reflexes take over. This is what made him kill baby rattle snakes at the age of 11 when they threatened his baby nephew. It is what kept Kiddo from being hurt when they tumbled down the stairs and Christian twisted mid fall to allow Kiddo to safely land on top of him. This instinct is something to behold.
5. Christian does game theory problems in his head before going to sleep at night...for fun.  Seriously.
6. At least once a day, he sketches out some potential invention or schematic either to explain a concept to someone else, or to get an idea into the world and out of his head.
7. No one has made me as dizzy through layered conversation as Christian. When other people have no idea what I'm referencing (which happens all the time), Christian does most of the time, and then he gives me something just as obscure and fun back.
8. Christian and I are about the same level of genre nerd - just slightly different types. Where he dove deep into hard sci-fi, I was waltzing around fantasy. As a result, we meet in the middle for fun discussions of themes, problems, and social commentary.

   

   Dahntahn

9. We share the same central progressive Christian beliefs, which makes raising a kid in the Church a lot easier (thank GOD!).
10. Christian is able to negotiate my kind of crazy extremely well, which is something I wasn't sure I would ever find. It goes a long way to making me feel validated even when my hormones turn me into Ms. Hyde.
11. Christian is willing to try things, especially if he can see where they might work better. This means we're never stuck doing the same old same old unless we want to be.
12. Christian makes me feel physically safe. I have never felt in danger with him ever. He knows how to handle himself in any location, with any group of people. This is something important to me, someone who grew up in a city where language and appearance could result in disaster if you stuck out.
13. He tries really hard to be a good dad. He changes diapers, gives baths, and sings songs off pitch. He wrestles and tickles and carries Kiddo. And Kiddo loves him so much, he asks for him every day while Christian is at work.
14. Christian compliments me and says "I love you" every day, at least once, but usually many times.
15. Even after being married for 6 years, it still feels good just to hold his hand.
    
    Happy Anniversary Christian! Life wouldn't be nearly as much of an adventure without you.
    

My Labor Day - An Alien's Arrival

sleeping kiddo on his first morning

When I got pregnant I joked that I might have a Labor Day baby.

The joke's on me.

The following is my birth story, or rather, kiddo's birth story (or both? depending on how you look at it).

Yesterday morning we woke up and Christian made breakfast. As he did, I got dressed as we had a prenatal appointment. I went to the potty and I thought maybe I had a trickle of amniotic fluid down my leg, but I wasn't sure. After all, it wasn't that much and prego ladies are known to have pee issues. I didn't worry about it because I figured it would become clear one way or another.

We went to our prenatal appointment which was at 9:30 am. I had a good amount of energy. My blood pressure was in a better place. I wasn't seeing stars or anything. Everything seemed pretty good. We even got the paperwork for placental encapsulation (which I'm sure I'll do a post on at a later date).

We left the appointment and went home. We were kind of hanging out a little and I felt like I had to pee (an unusual sensation for a 39 week prego lady). I went into the toilet and felt something similar to a menstrual cramp, but intense...almost like there was a drain that had been unplugged (including the twisting water sensation, but inside). I wiped. There was bloody show and a whole lot of amniotic fluid.

"Christian! I just had bloody show!"
"Is it time?!"
"Maybe. I think so."

So what did Christian do? He conked out. I called my mother (about the appointment, but then I started having mild pressure waves/contractions on the phone), texted Christian's mother, and texted the midwives to let them know what was going on. Then I played the Fear Clearing track of HypnoBabies while Christian napped. Then I put on Birthing Day Affirmations...and Hypnotic Childbirth #2 (For those of you who have used HypnoBabies, you'll know what I mean. If you haven't, they're pretty much what the titles sound like.).

Christian woke up and started getting last minute things (and we forgot a ton even still but oh well). He handed me his phone to time my pressure waves (contractions) and at first they were pretty irregular and jarring. Then they became more regular, which I found to be more helpful because I could prepare for them better. And as soon as they were regular, they were around 4 minutes apart and 1 minute long - the time we were supposed to go to the birth center. Christian insisted we wait until there were a few more intervals at the same time and thought he'd even have time to do some laundry (I insisted he not and showed him how consistent things were). After about 45 minutes worth of consistent pressure waves, I called the midwives. I could no longer talk through a pressure wave and had to give the phone to Christian to explain.

Christian hung up and told me that Sonja (one of the midwives) would meet us at the birth center. I nodded, and Christian got the car ready. I told him to put in a towel to protect the seat because I was gushing amniotic fluid after particularly intense pressure waves. Gingerly I made it to the car and we were off. The drive was easy because of the holiday and the fact that the Bay Bridge was closed. It was perfect. When we got to the birth center (Pacifica - which I really recommend) in Berkeley, we parked in the reserved spot. I stood up in the lot and completely soaked my pants in amniotic fluid (lovely!).

We made our way to the birth room and Sonja checked me. Christian put on some more HypnoBabies tracks and the bath was filled. I dumped the soaked pants.

Now, I thought I'd want to be more modest, but when you're in the middle of such an intense experience as giving birth, modesty isn't really on your mind. I got rid of my shirt and bra and sank into the tub.

There was already a candle lit by the tub and the lights were low. Every time a pressure wave hit, I focused on my HypnoBabies training and made a sort of humming/chant sound similar to "Om" or "ah" but with my mouth closed. The sound was really helpful for my focus and made the discomfort of the pressure waves minimal (though the water helped). Christian was there with cool wash cloths for my neck and chest and one of the doulas/apprentice midwives, Anna, periodically checked the baby's heart rate.

The pressure waves became more intense and powerful. As they did, it became clear that I had reached transformation (transition) because my body began to shake a little and the waves changed location. Necessarily the sounds I was making also changed. Despite this, I kept my body incredibly relaxed between each wave. I was so calm and relaxed that the midwives were incredibly impressed, especially with how fast my birthing time (labor) was moving (some time around then the second midwife, Cindy arrived).

About this time I couldn't handle being in the tub any more. I couldn't get into a position that felt right. It was time to get out of the tub. So first I tried leaning on the birth ball on the bed. That was okay but I got to a certain point when it stopped working. Then I tried the birth stool. That worked a little bit. Christian was able to massage my back while I pushed kiddo down. Unfortunately the pressure of the position was negatively impacting kiddo's heart rate, so I needed to move. I tried lying on my side on the bed, but that just resulted in a whole bunch of cramps that were really awful and uncomfortable. So the midwives suggested I lean towards my back, but still kind side-lying. In this position I was able to relax easily between pressure waves/pushes. I found myself really having to focus on breathing. Because of congestion and just general breathing issues, it was something I had to really concentrate on to make work. This was because whenever I pushed, I had to push hard and I was most successful when I held my breath or let it out slowly through the push. When I stopped pushing this way, I had to take deep breaths to make sure kiddo's heart rate went back to normal. It really helped to have Christian there holding my hand and reminding me what to do. I know this, combined with the HypnoBabies' tracks in the background kept me calm and focused.

At some point the middle of this, I was able to reach my hand down and feel the top of kiddo's head. That is the most bizarre and exciting feeling in the world. It's bizarre because, well, there's another human coming out from your vagina! It's exciting because, all that time and effort you've spent through pregnancy and in childbirth is actually leading to an end result!

Because my pushes weren't going super long (remember that low breathing ability?) kiddo stayed with part of his head sticking out for a while. Or at least, that's what I thought was going on. And then I got him crowning. And more than anything, I wanted that to be over. In my head I kept telling myself, "I can make this be over. I can finish this." So in one major effort, I did a series of pushes and then he was out and being rushed onto my chest. In about two seconds after being on my chest he started crying, he was so alert. Meanwhile I was in awe of what I had just done. The midwives were in awe of how big he was.

I had just given birth to my son on Labor Day at 7:15 pm.

Cone headed kiddo

Funnily enough, because of his head sitting at my opening for a little while, he had some really goofy molding of his skull. I mean, he actually looked like a little alien with this weird bump going on. Cindy let me know it would go away shortly (and it was basically gone by the time we got home). Thank GOD! I really didn't want to have a goofy looking kid.

They gave me some arnica for inflamation and let me be skin to skin with him for a little while. Eventually kiddo started rooting and so I put him to my breast and he latched immediately. In fact, he was such a voracious eater, he stayed like that for about 40 minutes straight (no joke). While he was sitting up on my chest, I pushed out the placenta easily. Christian stayed close to us and took a few pictures. I got a shot of pitocin in the leg to minimize bleeding.

Somehow we were able to get kiddo off the breast long enough for Christian to cut the cord. As my tissues got a little calmer and things started to clean up a bit we discovered I had some tearing. It was still hard to see how bad the tears were, but they would keep an eye on it.

Kiddo stayed alert but calm on my chest. Christian went to get some sandwiches for us. I tried to pee. This was a pretty difficult thing because the whole area down there is SUPER numb. Your sensitivity is shot. But if you don't pee, your uterus and your bladder start competing for space. The more full your bladder, the more bleeding you have. Well, after Christian returned with food and I was able to eat, I felt well enough to try the bathroom (as opposed to a bed pan or a stool with a bowl under it). While my tears stung, I was actually able to empty my bladder which helped things a lot.

Sonja went home around 8ish and Cindy and Anna stayed. They measured kiddo and gave him his vitamin K shot. This was when I found out just how big my baby was.

9 lbs, 8 oz.
21 3/4 inches
14 cm head circumference

Yeah. There was a reason why I tore.

After that they checked my tearing to assess the damage and see if they could suture it on site. Well, it was worse than they originally thought. In the end, we decided to go to the hospital to have it sutured so that I wouldn't have any issues with healing etc.

Luckily the hospital is only 4 blocks from the birth center, so it was super easy. Probably the hardest part of getting over there was dressing kiddo. He had his diaper on for about two seconds before it was soaked through to his pants. Luckily the birth center had some extra clothes, because we didn't have any (all our clothes were hanging to dry on our railing at home!). We even forgot a hat (after the ton of hats we got! I blame my prego brain!). Well finally we got into the car and headed over. Once there, Anna got a wheel chair for me and we rolled right up to L&D where Cindy had called ahead to make sure they could take care of me immediately. I got a really good surgeon who they knew well, Dr. Singer, and was in a room in minutes. The nurse checked my vitals and in a few minutes the doctor was in taking a look at my tearing - almost 3rd degree, and really close to my sphincter.

I opted for an IV fast acting narcotic along with Lidocaine to make the process as painless as possible (the doctor assured me neither of which would interfere with breastfeeding). A little while later, I was being stitched up and then it was over before I knew it. We let Anna and Cindy go home to eat and get some sleep while Christian, kiddo, and I hung out to make sure the drugs were out of my system. The nurse came back to help me use the bathroom (which I was again able to do without too much hassle). A few seconds later the doctor came by to check on me and talk to me about a few prescriptions he'd given me as well as after care of the suturing.

Not long after I was being wheeled back downstairs and to our car.

This after birth bit sounds like it wouldn't have taken very long, but it did. We didn't get home until 3 am. And then we didn't sleep very well because we still don't have a plan in place, or any idea of what our routine should be with kiddo.

And?

I don't care.

Every time I look at him, I am so happy and amazed at what I did. He is so sweet and precious. He already has a love of music and food, as well as my husband's family's snoring habit. He's even got an unusual amount of coordination for a newborn (he brings his hand to his face and mouth regularly which I guess is unusual). I can't wait to see what kind of person he will become.

One Big Belly And a Low Carb Solution

Well, I just got back from my midwife appointment and on the ride home I was crying. I seem to be doing a lot of that these days.

Part of it is because of the frustration and helplessness I feel, but part of it is just the insane amount of hormones swimming around in my system. The advice I got from my midwife today sort of amped everything up.

First of all, I've reached full term - so yay! If kiddo shows up at this point, he'll be mature enough to go home with me etc. So that's good. But that wasn't what made me cry (although, probably in the right circumstances it could...you know...because of hormones).

No, the thing that made me cry is I've been measuring big - that is my fundal height is a week over my dates. I've been measuring this way for some time. So it's not exactly measuring big that made me cry this time. However, I've also gained more weight than I would have liked. I think between this appointment and the last full appointment (2 or 3 weeks ago?) I put on like 5 pounds. Now I didn't think my baby was going to be "small" like ever. My body is built similarly to my mother's and my mother had a really easy birth with me, and I was about 8.5 lbs. My midwife thinks my baby is already over 7 lbs. 

MW: What have you been eating?"

*Blink* I've basically cut out simple carbs from my diet. If I do eat them, I eat them with meat and veggies of some kind, just like what they told me to do months ago. Sure I splurge sometimes. I'm no angel, but I'm not stuffing my face with Double Stuffed Oreos or something.

Me: I've been drinking a lot of milk.

MW: Low fat milk has a lot of sugar in it. Have you been eating any fruit?

Me: I eat a banana and peanut butter sandwich for breakfast every morning. I eat dates at night.

MW: Dates are like pure sugar.

*Sigh*

So then I did a crazy thing. I asked her what she would recommend as far as diet. She told me if she were me, she'd cut out all carbs. She reminded me that I only have a few weeks left but that it will make a difference in the size of my baby.

For those of you who don't know...what you eat in the last month or so of your pregnancy has a PROFOUND impact on the size of your baby. At this point, all the body parts etc are there. Literally you're just helping your baby to put on that extra layer of protective baby fat.

My midwife was trying to be nice. She said it was my pregnancy and my baby and I could do what I want (yes, thanks...I know...*sigh*) but that having a bigger baby can make labor go longer etc. She said a baby at 7 lbs was easy...a baby at 8 was harder, and at 9...well you might have to go to the hospital.

Right.

Well, I do have a deep pelvis (a lot of extra space in there) which luckily makes birthing babies easier (hooray!). I also have been doing HypnoBabies which makes me feel a lot better about birth and pressure waves and all of that - in other words, I'm not afraid of the process. I wasn't even anxious...well until I got out of this appointment. It made me a little anxious and feel like I need to change my habits. That and probably trying to get on this low carb diet will help me to get back to pre-pregnancy size a lot faster (which I would LOVE! I am seriously missing my jeans!). As upset as the whole prospect makes me, once I got my frustration out through my tear ducts and started looking at meal plans online I began to feel better. There was just one thing that might cause me to struggle.

What do you think my biggest obstacle would be?

You guessed it...Christian. He has a problem. He can't go to the grocery store without getting something sweet or fried. He hides candy bars in the freezer. He buys those cheap artificially flavored lemon cookies. He likes those "granola bars" which are basically a step up from Snickers. He gets processed everything. The amount of crackers that guy consumes is wrong. He's totally addicted to junk. And he thinks he needs to eat this stuff.

Getting him to add veggies to his regular diet is a chore, though he claims not to mind them. In fact, if I cook them, he eats them. It's just he doesn't cook them...and of course, he's been cooking for months. You see the issue here. Even on the car ride home he said, "So basically our diets have to be completely different!"

I laughed mirthlessly at him. My response? "Oh no! It will be a lot harder for me if you're eating something completely different. You're eating this way with me!"

Yes. There has been a coup. The regime has changed. It's time to be a healthy role model because I am not having a junkaholic for a kid. That ship has sailed.

I sense temper tantrums in the making.

Happy 5th Anniversary!

It's been 5 years today.

I remember the inebriated super late limo driver. I remember being carted from one salon to another. I remember the flock of cameras that was so stressful I was glad I have never been a movie star or graced the cover of a tabloid. I remember waiting in the narthex of the church for the music that would signal my walk down the aisle. I remember looking forward and seeing Christian's face. I remember trying to stop my crying when Larry, the officiating pastor, said things that made the whole situation real. I remember the microphone not working for Danielle's reading. I remember the "Gift of Love" hymn going way too long. I remember forgetting to grab my bouquet from Marie and just walking down the aisle hand in hand with Christian anyway.

I remember my godfather threatening Christian. I remember Katy Perry playing in the limo ride over to the polo club. I remember deciding to ignore the pomp and circumstance of a "grand entrance." I remember freaking out because we hadn't included the photographers in the guest numbers, and I still feel bad about that (even though they screwed up my wedding video...but I'm not bitter...really...). I remember the toasts. I remember dancing with my dad and dancing with Christian (and people later wondering if we'd taken lessons, which we hadn't). I remember people having fun - and telling us they hadn't had so much fun at a wedding reception ever. I remember my mother gripping my arms so tight that I thought she'd never let me leave...

Those are the things I remember about the ceremony and reception. But of course, they aren't the things that we talked about this past Monday when we actually celebrated our anniversary (we wanted to celebrate when Christian wasn't bone tired coming home from work).

We got paninis, Martinelli's, and a bag of kettle chips and went to the park at the northwestern tip of Alameda. It was overcast (because the Bay is at this time of year) and incredibly windy. It wasn't exactly how I pictured our beach picnic in my head, but then again, the place was still beautiful. Christian popped open the Martinelli's, we ate our sandwiches, and we reminisced.

First he asked me, "What's the worst and best thing about being married to me?" I laughed because this is a pitfall of a question. Still...

Me: You ask me stupid questions like that - that's the worst. [He really does ask questions like that all the time, even though I'm sure he doesn't want honest answers to them.] The best is the fun.

We have fun all the time. ALL the time. This is one of the reasons I chose to marry Christian. Life is too short to be serious and miserable. When life is difficult, it is better to find the things to laugh about - to find the pieces of joy.

Me: What about you?

Him: Well, the worst isn't really the worst. It's kind of both. I have to be responsible. You make me responsible. And I like and want that, but I also hate it.

I don't feel that bad about that one. It's not really something that is even personal. I think any functional marriage would require that...and so it doesn't bug me at all.

Him: The best is going around with you - adventuring.

It's one of the things we've made sure to do as much as possible, though since being pregnant it has definitely been reduced to almost nothing. Still, we used to go on an adventure every weekend. We would discover new things all the time. For us this meant a whole lot of day trips, which is really all we could afford through most of our married life. However, we have gone on 3 overnight trips just as a couple since being married (besides our very short honeymoon). And that leads me to the other thing we discussed.

We started thinking about stories - the stories we've lived through in the past five years - those we like to tell and those we like to remember. There are so many stories we like to tell, but for me, it isn't stories I like to remember - it's moments. In particular there are moments in time that I replay in my head over and over again. These are usually tied to a particular expression that crosses Christian's face when he looks at me - it's a quiet smile, one that only I see. It's filled with sheer happiness and profound love, and the only time it's been on display for other people was probably on August 8, 2008.

By this point we were pretty cold and our food was all eaten. It was time to go home. But even though we were done with our designated remembering, the thoughts have been swimming around my head ever since. It was a nice reminder that despite all the ups and downs of the past five years (and there have been many) our relationship is strong. Neither one of us would choose another. And while many aspects of our life are unstable at the moment, which seems like a bad time to bring a baby into the mix, our relationship - our marriage - is ironclad.  For me, that is the most important thing.

Fluff Mail: Starting with Cloth

In a few weeks I'm about to embark on a journey...a crazy journey...of cloth diapering.

I've been told by multiple people this is crazy and stupid. I've been told it is impossible to get said diapers clean. I've been told the water bill would be astronomical. I've been told basically, over and over again, this is folly and I shouldn't do it.

Of course, cloth diapers have a start up cost that might be frightening, and the idea of cleaning poop off of them regularly might be a little intimidating. That said, cloth diapers in the long run are 1000s of dollars cheaper than disposable (or sposies as they are called in the cloth diapering world). Apparently they're also cleaner - as in, they result in fewer blow outs (assuming you have the right system in place for your particular child). They're also supposed to result in fewer rashes and less skin irritation generally.

But they do have a learning curve. And require prep. And special care products. For example, you're supposed to prep all your cloth beforehand. Prefolds generally need to be washed at least 3 times before first use, and even that is on the low side. Regular diaper ointment just won't work with cloth - it forms a weird barrier that makes the diapers less absorbent. You have to use either special crazy expensive ointments OR olive oil OR coconut oil (I have a giant jar of coconut oil, or as Christian likes to call it, "skin crack" because it's so amazing for your skin.). Oh, and the diaper companies would tell you that it is necessary to use specialized detergent for diapers. This may be true. But I've read on my cloth diapering forums that Tide works amazingly well, even though cloth diapering companies would cringe at us low-lifes using such enzyme imbued agents (as such, I got the generic hypoallergenic version of Tide...and we'll see how that one goes).

So yes, it was both exciting and scary to get a giant box of fluff mail on Monday. And yes, I don't really know what I'm doing. I have everything ready that I need, and I am fully prepared to suck at it initially (I even have a few boxes of newborn sposies at the ready in case of spectacular failure). HOWEVER, I am also committed to the cause. I just need an apartment sized washer and I'll feel better about the whole enterprise. Hopefully we can find one on Craigslist for cheap, because I don't like the idea of carrying poopy diapers from my loft to the laundry room...especially if anyone sees me. They might complain or something (even though breast milk poop is water soluble...but that's just details!).

Whatever the case, it's going to be an adventure. We'll have to discover what works and what doesn't, and I'll have to get Christian a little more on board (I'm not the only one waking up at 3 am to change dipes!). So cross your fingers and wish us luck! We'll take all we can get!

Pregnancy Urinary Trek Part 2: 101 North

On Saturday I made the same long trek back home that I made over a week before. I rode in the car from Buellton to Jingletown. As expected, it took a bit longer than expected. We started at 9:30 AM and I didn't get home until 4:30 PM.

And I thought that without shoe shopping I'd be able to make the trip a little faster. Of course I wasn't counting on motorcycle shopping.

Our first stop was the Atascadero Harley Davidson shop. They have clean bathrooms, my in-laws know the owner, and sometimes there are free goodies (especially on a Saturday). As it was, there was coffee and some kind of pastry available had we wanted it and fresh movie/carnival style popcorn. We used the potty and looked around at the different gear, bikes, etc. My mother-in-law got a bag of popcorn and we were back on the road.

I lasted a pretty long time before I broke down and needed another bathroom. So in Salinas, I thought we were going to stop at a Mickey D's or some other similar fast food place. My father-in-law used to drive truck back in the day, so he has a habit of picking the kinds of stops truckers would choose (in other words, not the places a prego lady would). We stopped at the Chevron station across from the Mickey D's. Needless to say, I would not recommend using this bathroom as a prego lady.

Not too long afterwards, we made our third stop in Gilroy which included lunch - at some place "real special" (think: Talladega Nights). Of course, just to be safe, I book ended lunch with visits to the water closet.

After lunch we hopped back on the road north and didn't stop again until Christian called asking for us to pick up a piece for his bike. So we stopped in Santa Clara at Cycle Salvage which involved sitting in a hot truck for about 20 minutes (no way I was going to pee in that bathroom).

Once back on the road, I waited for as long as I possibly could to use a toilet...which was until we got to Union City. This meant a quick stop at the In and Out for a potty break and a cup of ice water.

Only a few miles later, we stopped at Christian's new work (East Bay Motorsports) so I could use a potty (again...of course) and have Christian check to make sure the part we picked up would work. Of course, we

ended up looking at motorcycles and gear. We also hung out with Christian for a few minutes in between jobs. Even though I wanted to get home as soon as possible, seeing Christian after a week of being apart was a bonus.

A few more minutes in the truck and we were back to the loft in Jingletown. I had hoped my return trip would be shorter, but oh well. I guess shopping and toilet stops are intrinsically linked. Yep. Third trimester roadtrips are always twice as long.

The Pants and The Skirt or Give and Take

I'm trying to figure out the pragmatic way to say things - to say things in such a way that doesn't step on toes or isn't oversharing. I mean, this is the internet. Not only do millions of people have access to every post I put up (not that they're reading them necessarily - I mean, seriously!) but the NSA could be analyzing my word choices (not like there's anything interesting to them on here either...but I guess they could get bored sometimes).

The pragmatic thing to say is I'm frustrated.

Not only am I frustrated, but I'm annoyed. I'm annoyed at things outside of my control, and I'm frustrated by the responses and reactions of others who don't seem to get it.

It all comes back to the role of wife and mother and the expectations around give and take.

For a long time women were expected to be perfect housewives. We were supposed to be Donna Reed with beautiful dresses, perfectly made-up faces, smiling as we vacuumed in high heels. We were supposed to wash the dishes at a time that wouldn't disturb our husbands. We were supposed to speak softly and tread lightly and let our husbands decide our fates, even if we manipulated them into making those decisions - ultimately it was their decisions. Our glory was producing beautiful well-rounded smiling children. Their successes were our successes. Our lives were meant to revolve around our husbands and our children, and outside of this, we had no lives. Domestic felicity was of utmost importance. We were meant to be the consummate givers, never meant to take. What could we possibly need?

Yeah right.

While some of the subservient role of wife and mother have disappeared, there are still parts of the social order that expect these things. There is the whole "super mom" concept which in many ways, is worse than the old Donna Reed ideal. Not only are we meant to cook, clean, and raise our children, but we're also expected to be a part of social organizations and work a full time job.

And husbands are supposed to do.... what exactly?

Though in the last ten years or so the "super mom" concept has eased somewhat, there is still this idea that women should give. Some of it is from society at large (read: men) but some of it is from ourselves. Thus our relationships with the opposite sex become marked by this idea that women give. We don't take. Our needs are subservient to those around us.

Clearly if we ever want to have an equal society women are going to have to change this belief. We have to take what we need. We have to be open to receiving the things that will make us not only satisfied, but fulfilled. Sometimes men are going to have to cook, clean, and even stay home with the kids (and many of them do - and that is awesome!). Sometimes women are going to have to be the ones to make the decisions that change the direction the family is going. Sometimes men are going to have to sacrifice things for the good of the family. Sometimes women are going to need to wear "the pants" so to speak, and sometimes men are going to have to wear "the skirt" (I say this despite the cringe it puts on my face...but humor me.).

So while we're remaking ourselves, let's slowly take steps in that direction. Both men and women can work towards this - it's not just a problem with women (though we certainly can't stand by on the sidelines). And I'll dream of Finland (they're super egalitarian there).

What's In A Husband During Pregnancy

Anyone who *chooses* to be a pregnant single mom is either crazy, stupid, rich, or incredibly brave. There's really no in between here. Why do I say something that might make me incredibly unpopular (I feel like I can smell the comments coming)? Because I can't IMAGINE being pregnant without Christian, my husband.

Christian is amazing. Really. Actually amazing. When I feel exhausted, which for the first three months was constant, he didn't bat an eye. He started cooking dinner. He started doing the laundry. When my legs started to swell, he massaged them before I went to sleep to literally push the fluid back to where it was supposed to be. He's put lotion on my calves and painted my toenails. He's cleaned the bathtub (which he HATES with a burning passion). He's rubbed my back when I was sore, and he's held me whenever I fell apart weeping. He's grabbed me bottles of cold water when I start to get thirsty and he's given me the extra meat at meals to make sure I was getting enough iron. Of course, he's done late night grocery runs to satisfy crazy cravings, but he's also gone on walks with me when he's bone tired from work to make sure I'm exercising enough.

I know few men are like this with their pregnant partners. I know I'm blessed beyond belief with him.  I thank God every day for him. I do.

And even though I know he is a rare find, I also know, this is what husbands are meant to do. Just like wives should take care of their husbands when they're sick etc, husbands are meant to care for their wives when they're pregnant. It's part of their job - a job that we wives don't even know they're supposed to do until we're in the middle of needing it done.

When we're young girls, we're taught to want some kind of handsome prince or knight in shining armor who will come and rescue us, take us away, marry us and then we'll live happily ever after. The thing is we're never taught what happily ever after looks like. We're taught that we should have children, but the process is abstract, hazy - completely undefined.

We don't know the reality of the thing. We know the prince or knight story is a fake, but we don't know about that happily ever after. We don't know about pregnancy or childbirth. We don't realize what a number it will do on our bodies. We don't know how hard it will be. Going in, we don't realize we won't be able to bend at the waist, or touch our toes, or have days when we can't do more than sleep, eat, and poop (sound familiar?). We just don't know how much we'll need that other person who helped us start this strange journey to stay by us, helping us every single second of every day. Because the reality is, while we might be able to force ourselves to get through it, painfully, horribly, the whole thing is a hell of a lot better when someone is there for every leg cramp, every sob fest, and every late-night craving (Oh! PB&J is happening in like 2 minutes!).

Husbands - partners - spouses are meant to be there. They're meant to care for us waddling prego ladies. And personally, I wouldn't have it any other way.