Unlikely Response

Dear Management,

Thank you for your courteous reminder of the impending termination of my lease. Obviously, we still disagree regarding the original terms, and thus the original time frame, of said lease. As previously stated, I shall remain on the premise until I’m good and ready to depart. I trust you will value our excellent tenant/landlord relationship enough to avoid taking drastic steps to evict me.

Regarding your request for feedback, I DO have a few small suggestions about your service to future inhabitants.

– First of all, please keep in mind that it is an honor to secure a reliable renter in today’s economy: off-hand remarks about the inconveniences of maintaining the property are not appreciated.

– Speaking of maintaining the property, try to understand while all men are created equal, the same is not true for all brands of prenatal vitamins. If you can’t keep it down, it’s not helping either of us out.

– Likewise, if you’re not comfortable with the premises being routinely inspected by professionals, you can imagine that the poking and prodding and monitoring involved in the process isn’t enjoyable for your tenant, either. Consider less invasive caretakers next time.

– If you really want to evict a tenant, you really have to commit to the process. This whole bumpy car rides/spicy foods/ frequent walking deal is, obviously, ineffective and, frankly, a little insulting. You can officially induce or you can wait: pick one.

I hope my suggestions are not too indelicate, but considering the circumstances, I feel that honesty is the best policy. I do appreciate your attempts to ensure my comfort during the past nine months. In retrospect, if I weren’t so comfortable here, I might have departed last week! Funny, isn’t it?

See you sooner or later,

Baby

Patience is a Virtue… just not one of mine

This is not due to a personality flaw or a natural moral weakness: I have intentionally avoided this specific fruit of the Spirit for most of my life.

“Never pray for patience,” my father cautioned me, “because there’s only one way God gives it.” That way, of course, is to put you into situations that try your patience until you grow some. Even as a child, this bit of spiritual wisdom made plenty of sense to me, all intended humor or irony aside, and I’ve generally followed his advice. (My father also taught me to save twenty percent of my income and budget at least four hundred dollars a month: I’m not sure why it was the facetious counsel that stuck. Sorry, Dad.)

Now I find myself in the uncomfortable position of being 5 days past my Doctor-Declared Due Date, with 5 more days to go until my NFP-Determined Due Date. If I was right all along, then this baby is doing just fine. If my doctor was right, he’s almost a week late. (But my thinking on the matter is that if the doctor had been correct, I would have a son right now instead of a watermelon-belly.) Either way, the IDEA of being due on the 15th sunk in a little farther than I should have let it and I find myself feeling strangely discontent…or, I suppose you could say impatient.

But don’t you dare start praying for patience now! I don’t want to be waiting until April, you know. In the meantime, though, all manner of distractions are welcome. My husband and I have kept our whole spring break free to accommodate this child: how shall we spend our final days of youth and freedom?

Open Letter

(Inspired by McSweeny’s Open Letters To Persons or Entities Unlikely to Respond)

Dear Occupant,

As your lease comes to a close, the management would like to thank you for your business and request any particular feedback you might have after nearly nine months as a tenant.  As you know, you are the first resident we’ve had the pleasure of serving and so your comments are very important to us.

We have taken great pains to ensure that you’ve found your accommodations comfortable. We hope you enjoyed the extra oxygen intake during pre-natal yoga sessions, as well as the extra time devoted to day-time napping. While there have been mutual benefits enjoyed by the consumption of folic acid supplements and the reduction of caffeine intake, we did find your request for total teetotaling uncalled for and somewhat puritanical.

Unfortunately, we will not be refunding your security deposit at the end of your stay. While we are pleased that you’ve been able to accommodate your growing needs through creative methods of expansion, some of your remodeling work has had less than desirable effects on the estate. While no damage is absolutely irrevocable, it will be quite some time before this particular unit is marketable again. We expect you understand what we mean by this.

Regarding your departure from the premise (we like to avoid uncomfortable terms, like “eviction”): please be considerate of the natural limits of the physical passageways of the place as you depart from your uterine home. We recommend a brief review of the laws of physics before attempting any sort of hasty removal. While we will be happy to assist in any way we can, your cooperation is an essential component for a smooth transition.

Please contact us with any questions or concerns. Thank you for being mindful of your due date.

Sincerely,

Mom

Perspective

I’ve been fortunate to spend my pregnancy in a community that’s very supportive of our decision to start a family. With the exception of a few irritated glances from people who may or may not have been victims of an accidental belly bump as I wrangled my six-month-stomach down the narrow aisle of a plane, I have not been subject to any discrimination, harassment, or abuse. No one has accused me of single-handedly over-populating the world. And though I’ve been overly sensitive to the “Wow-you-look-ready-to-pop!” comments, no one has actually made any untoward remarks about the physical changes I’ve experienced during the process.

Instead, I have been showered with encouragement, empathy, and gifts for the little one. My boss (who is a mother herself) has put absolutely no pressure on me to make a decision about returning to work next year. My friends have listened sympathetically to my litany of woes (the kicking! the swelling! the exhaustion!) and have managed to compliment my figure with a straight face. Or, you know, at least my hair cut. My parents have made plans to drive out here all the way from St. Louis, to take care of us and just be here to welcome the baby when he comes. Dad is even building a bassinet for him.

And my husband: where do I begin? He has endured over 15 hours of birthing classes where words like “perineum” and “amniotic fluid” are mentioned about 5 times a minute…and he’s taken notes! Just to make sure that he can be as supportive as possible during labor. Instead of making fun of me when I burst into irrational tears, he kisses me and offers to indulge my every craving or whim. He’s actually excited about trying the whole cloth diapers things. And, most importantly, he’s even more eager than I am for the baby to actually be here.

I remember how freaked out I was when I first looked at that pregnancy test…and by the time I took the test, I already pretty much knew (thanks, NFP). That confirmation, though, was terrifying: I didn’t feel ready at all. But, with time and prayer and the reassurance of mothers who have gone before, I’ve become accustomed to the idea of being a mother. And, of course, I’m terribly curious to meet the tiny creature who has been tucking his feet under my ribs for the past few months.

It’s hard to imagine what this year would have been like if no one else had been excited with me, if no one else thought that having a baby was a good idea. I’ve always been adamantly pro-life in principle, but I don’t think I realized how much support I would need to carry my own child.

I came across this article earlier today: Ask an Abortion Provider (warning: explicit language). It’s basically a young woman’s defense of her choice to abort her baby and her aspiration to become an abortion provider. Her tone attempts a weird form of jocularity, but ends up sounding, not surprisingly, defensive and militant. And the “warm fuzzy” moments she’s experienced during her training fall rather flat as she celebrates the success of the procedures she’s performed.

She sees herself as courageous for daring to enter a profession so fraught with danger (from pro-life activists) and so laden with stigmas (from pro-life culture). And that she has plenty of examples (death threats, verbal harassment, people egging the family planning building) to add some legitimacy to her self-victimization is definitely discouraging.

Frankly, the article is kind of obnoxious and I don’t recommend you spend time reading it (or getting involved in fights in the comment box, for that matter). I just bring it up here as a point of contrast: I wonder how differently this woman’s life would have turned out if her loved ones had been able to celebrate her pregnancy and her baby instead of celebrating her independence. Yes, she’s responsible for her own choices and yes, I think she’s making poor ones. But, ironically enough, after experiencing pregnancy, I’m no longer able to see her as an independent agent.

She is a victim, but not in the way she thinks. She’s the victim of a pro-choice culture that did not support her life-giving potential and denied her baby a loving, welcoming community.  Her failure is our own.

***

I’ve always loved this Lauryn Hill song, but I appreciate its simultaneous struggle and celebration even more now.

Gilead

Every time I read Marilynne Robinson’s quiet novel Gilead, I appreciate it differently. It’s written in the form of an elderly preacher’s diary/letter to his young son. The Rev. John Ames has been diagnosed with a heart condition and expects his seven year old child to grow up without him, so he writes this letter as a way of speaking into his son’s life. But the reflective process of journaling leads the pastor to some profound insights into his own life. It’s not an exciting book: but it is beautiful, and true.

The first time I read it, I remember being struck by the way Robinson creates and maintains a fictional voice of such incredible wisdom and consistency. It’s difficult enough for a writer to create a realistic voice for a character of the opposite gender (For failures, see Hemingways’s A Farewell to Arms, for successes see Cather’s My Antonia), but to craft an entire book in the voice of a fictional character of the opposite gender? And to give that character a lifetime’s worth of literary and biblical references to draw from? Amazing.

My second time through, I grew to appreciate Ames as a person, more than a fictional voice. My husband always says that the great characters of literature are more real than most people ever are. I used to take offense at the idea, but I’ve come to agree that, yes, Odysseus exists in a greater way than I have had the opportunity to exist, and Anna Karenina’s personhood–pathetic though it may be in some respects–eclipses my own in sheer magnitude. Ames does not overwhelm one like these other literary giants; rather, he plumbs a depth of knowledge, wisdom, and compassion that most people will never achieve. His wisdom is best manifest in the way that he acknowledges his weaknesses and moral failings as he experiences them. Instead of waiting until frustration or selfishness has passed to look back on it and note “Why yes, I was thinking wrongly at that time,” he recognizes his errors in real time. Maybe some day I’ll arrive at this height of spiritual sensitivity, but not any time soon.

I just finished re-reading Gilead a third time a few days ago, and it’s been sinking in differently again. This time, I found myself grieving along with Ames at the thought of missing out on his son’s life. The concept was sad enough when I first encountered his story, but I can appreciate the magnitude of that loss so much more now. Is this one of those hidden gifts of motherhood? That bearing a child allows you to go back and re-read every story with a completely different perspective? An entirely new point of identification? I’m so accustomed to identifying with the young characters, the children, the daughters. Will I someday watch Fiddler on the Roof and feel Golde’s pain more keenly than Chava’s? It’s an astonishing thought.

And the change is coming on so quickly, too! Just last night, Zach and I were watching Toy Story 3. Near the very end, as Andy plays with his toys one last time, Zach looked over to catch me crying quietly. (He’s so used to this now, after eight months of pregnancy, that he just chuckles at the sight of my tears, as he should.)

“What’s the matter, honey?” he asked, ever so gently.

Let me just say that I know now and I knew at the time that I was being irrational, but I didn’t have time to come up with a more reasonable excuse on the spot. So, choking back sobs (heavens, I’m tearing up again!), I finally admitted the truth:

“It’s just that….I just….I DON’T WANT OUR BABY TO LEAVE FOR COLLEGE!”

 

Just Admit It

Admit it: you spend most of your waking hours wondering just how big my belly really is these days.

And, while you’re at it, you might as well admit that looking at pictures of people with enormous mid-sections gives you a little ego boost, you slim-jim, you. I know this from personal experience: I spent most of my second trimester watching Biggest Loser reruns on Hulu, usually while eating.

Since today is officially our eighth month wedding anniversary, thus ushering in the blessed month where our little one can be born without anyone calling his legitimacy into question, I shall reward your curiosity.

0

Where's the belly?

Note: I’m not really comfortable with pregnancy photos–I realize that friends and family from far away appreciate them, but I usually require some convincing. Those women who get special maternity photography packages astonish me.

There it is! 98% Baby, 2% Cadbury Eggs

And there you have it, folks: a nearly complete human child in utero.

Doesn’t that make you feel better? Even if your day isn’t going as well as you planned, take a moment to stand up, look down, and assure yourself that you are among the fabulous elite members of the human race who can still see their feet! I plan on rejoining your club eventually, but I’ve still got a few more weeks of playing the incubator.

Weekend Snap Shots

It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon here in Colorado Springs–much too nice to consider writing all those lesson plans I’ve got to finish before taking maternity leave. So, instead of drafting a plan for how to make Cyrano de Bergerac appealing to 7th graders, I’ve put together a little weekend update for you!

What I’ve Been Reading:

Annie Dillard’s memoir An American Childhood:

I love Annie Dillard’s work, but have found most of it a little too strong for leisure reading during pregnancy. (For the Time Being, for example, includes too many speculations about unusual birth defects to be good for an expectant mother.) But this fluid re-creation of her childhood mind is both pleasing and intriguing. Dillard is perhaps the most observant writer I know, and these stories from her childhood in high-society Pittsburgh (of all places) shows how she honed her natural curiosity into keep powers of observation through collecting rocks, biking all over the city, and taking ball room dance lessons.

What I’ve Been Cooking:

I appreciated the wonderful recipe suggestions you all sent. I’d love to give you a little glimpse of how Anna’s Hearty Potato Soup turned out, but WP isn’t letting me upload those photos. (Sorry, Anna).

On Friday night, though, I make my best “fast food” imitation with some oven baked sweet potato fries and chicken fingers—so much healthier if you do it yourself!

Sweet Potato Fries: except not fried

What I’ve Been Growing:

Our little boy is looking more and more like a person all the time, at least, according to this in-utero illustration. (Why no belly pictures, you wonder? Because I get tired of asking my husband to take photos of my stomach.) Depending on who you ask (me or my doctor) I’m at either 34 or 36 weeks right now. Zach has affirmed that I have NOT begun to waddle yet.

He looks almost ready to come out, doesn't he? Only six more weeks or so!

What I’ve Been Researching:

Our friends Keith and Megan (who just had a little boy of their own THIS MORNING!! Congrats, guys!) have encouraged us in our search for the perfect cloth diaper. After consulting a few other experts (read: moms), we decided to register for a set of Fuzzibunz One-Size diapers. These things are adorable AND adjustable, so they should last from 4 weeks – potty training for multiple children. I know that committing to cloth diapers means high start up costs and a lot of laundry, but they really make diapers more affordable in the long run. Oh, AND they’re good for the environment.

The Fuzzibunz One-Size in Tootie Frootie. Very masculine, no?

What I’ve Been Buying:

You may remember a little brouhaha from a while back involving some car problems and a wiley mechanic. Well, I’m happy to report that we’ve received a decent chunk of cash back, and have finally moved forward with buying a newer car. Meet the Kia Optima 2007:

I've never owned a red car before. Or even a car! Three cheers for downsizing!

It’s currently parked on the street, where Zach and I fully expect it will be hit by an uninsured drunk driver before we have a chance to complete the payment/insurance process with the bank tomorrow. Nevertheless, we are grateful to have found a good deal and grateful to be done with car shopping!

What I’ve Been Neglecting:

• Working on our wedding album, which I vowed to complete before the baby gets here.
• Working on lesson plans, which I am legally obligated to complete before the baby gets here
• Sleeping well: apparently, the baby wants to condition me to wake every two or three hours so I’m all chipper for night time feedings when he arrives.
• Blogging. I know, okay? I know.
• My toe nails: a pedicure is in order. Not because I’m self-indulgent, but because I can’t easily reach my feet.

If You Can’t Think of Something Nice to Say…

Pregnant women are notoriously sensitive, emotional, irrational: both personal experience and chemistry support this stereotype. But in defense of expectant mothers, they receive more than their fair share of provocation during their nine months of blissful anticipation. Something about a mother’s protruding belly seems to cause a selective malfunction in the average person’s verbal filter. Perfectly kind, well-meaning individuals will sometimes make surprisingly offensive comments or ask shockingly personal questions when conversing with a pregnant woman. This lack of decorum usually arises from a sincere desire to appear interested and empathetic: we pregnant women DO understand the innocence of the intent. But I’ve put together a beginner’s guide of comments to avoid in order to help you communicate more effectively with the expectant mother in your life.

What Not To Say: You look like you’re about to pop!

What the Pregnant Woman Hears: You’re really fat!

How the PW Feels: “I know—I’m huge! And I’ve still got two more months to go and what if my center of gravity shifts so far that I fall down all the time and I’m afraid that I’ll never get my pre-pregnancy figure back and I’m ugly! Why am I so, so horribly ugly?

What the PW is Forced to Say: *awkward chuckle* Yeah..he’s/she’s getting bigger every day…

What the PW Would Like to Say: So do you! *pointed glance at offender’s midsection* But at least I have an excuse! Ha ha! (This is especially effective with people who are in relatively good shape: give them a moment’s taste of the tormenting self-consciousness you’ve suffered for months.)

What You Should Say Instead: You’re looking lovely today.

What Not To Say: Wow, you look exhausted!

What the PW Hears: Not only are you fat, but your overall attractiveness is diminishing, too.

How the PW Feels: I’m supposed to be glowing, but instead I looked harried and worn: what kind of hag will I become when I’m actually up feeding a newborn five times a night?

What the PW is Forced to Say: Yeah…I guess I haven’t been sleeping well.

What the PW Would Like to Say: You would look tired, too, if in addition to working a full time job and cooking and cleaning, you were constantly knitting together and feeding a new human being! With no hands!

What You Should Say Instead: Have I mentioned how lovely you’re looking today? Why don’t you let me do the dishes so you can take a little nap.

What Not To Say: Are you going to get an epidural?

What the PW Hears: Are you a real woman or a weakling?

How the PW Feels: I don’t know! I’ve never done this before! And I’m dreading the pain almost as much as I dread these awkward questions. What are you going to think of me if I cave and accept pain medications?

What the PW is Forced to Say: (This depends on her personal choice, but chances are good that she’s not comfortable saying it.)

What the PW Would Like to Say: Hmm…it seems like only reason you could want that information is so that you can judge my worthiness as a woman or compare me with other women and I am not comfortable with either of those alternatives.

What You Should Say Instead: When would you like to use this gift card for a pre-natal massage that I picked up for you?

 

What Not To Say: Are you experiencing…swollen feet/water retention/constipation/etc?

What the PW Hears: Please explain your uncomfortable medical issues to someone who a) is not usual privy to personal information and b) can do nothing to help make you feel better.

How the PW Feels: Awkward! That’s something I only want to discuss with my doctor or my mother and since when is it okay to inquire about someone’s medical history?

What the PW is Forced to Say: Oh, you know…just the usual stuff….it’s not too bad.

What the PW Would Like to Say: Do you really want to hear about my gastronomical difficulties? Do you really think either of us will enjoy that conversation? Because if you really want to know, I can tell you. Imagine first a constant pressure on the bowels and…

What You Should Say Instead: How Are You? I mean, how are things going in areas of life besides your pregnancy?

What Not To Say: Do you mind if we…drink this freshly corked bottle of wine/eat sushi in front of you/all go skiing next weekend?

What the PW Hears: We’re going to have fun without you for a while now and we would appreciate your pleas.

How the PW Feels: You’re going to do it anyway, whether I mind or not, so why must you make a big deal about asking me if I mind and making me pretend that the privilege of bringing new life to the world is enough to make me perfectly content to be the only sober person in the group?

What the PW is Forced to Say: Oh, no, go right ahead!

What the PW Would Like to Say: Do you mind if I go to a corner and weep for the loss of my autonomy? 

What You Should Say Instead: Would you like…a cup of tea/to pick a restaurant/to take a walk together?

Clearly, there are myriad other comments and questions to avoid, but these have been the most common in my experience.  I’m sure that I’m guilty of being equally insensitive to people in other circumstances, but I hope that being on the receiving end of some of these comments will help me to think before I speak in the future.

If any other mothers (or sympathetic fathers) out there have suggestions to add, please take a moment to leave a comment! Together we can work towards a more courteous society.