like a bowlful of jelly

Okay, I'm getting a little sick of being so fat. And to all of you moms and other helpful people out there I know it's going to go away slowly and I know it's not that bad and I know I'm close to my weight before I had her but IT'S NOT ENOUGH, I STILL FEEL FAT.

Many would suggest that this is a lack of self esteem. They're probably right. But it just amazes me, this body-awareness that I now have. It's just that the skin on my tummy is not what it used to be. Before I always was, at the absolute skinniest, a large 6 or a solid size 8. You know what I mean, girls--there are always places to go if you're feeling bigger, places where you're suddenly a whole size less than you know you are. I mean, at the Gap I was an 8, at Ann Taylor Loft I was a 6, and at Express I was a 10. At Wet Seal I was a 37. Anyway, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I was shopping at Ann Taylor Loft a LOT. And then I got pregnant. And I got bigger and I thought, it's okay, I'm PREGNANT, I'm allowed to be bigger. And people said "you look so beautiful!" (Okay, those were the people who were NOT saying "You're really HUGE! Ha Ha!" ...see previous post). But this creeping feeling that I wasn't beautiful was setting in. I know that the part of me that says "you're fat" when I'm 6 months pregnant is not logical. I totally know that. But I'm sure you know that you don't always feel "glowy" when you're 20 lbs. more than you usually are, you sometimes feel kind-of ...big.

So after I was 20 lbs. more, and then 30, and then (Okay, I had polyhydramnios, okay?!) 45 and then 50 lbs. more, I felt HUGE. Like a beluga whale, but without the Raffi song. (http://www.cqsb.qc.ca/svs/434/songs2.htm ). And I got (horrors) stretch marks. Which at the time just seemed like a failure. (I'm just keeping it real--there are lots of people out there who get them. I just was sad about being one.) And then--shock of all--the moment that Helena was born (or "extracted," as I like to say) via c-section, I was right back to a size 8. Okay, haha, as you mothers now, you are actually still 6 months pregnant for many weeks after giving birth. I literally thought at the time that perhaps they had forgotten to take out Helena's twin or something; I kept saying "but it's hard...it's not flabby...I think something's still in there..." Don't worry, though, I got my wish: it's flabby now!

So today I decided (for the 16th time since the baby was born) that I would take a walk. And I called my new mom friends and they too wanted to go with me, to get out of the house, to get moving a little. And we went out to the mall. And we walked for 45 minutes and it flew by while we were talking and laughing about our mom experiences. And something else happened.

I was reminded of the verse in 'Twas the Night Before Christmas where Clement Clarke Moore writes (about Santa):

...He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself...

Okay, I don't mean that I am embracing feeling chubby and plump. What happened was that I realized it might not have been the excercise that I needed as much as the company. The point that Moore was making was that yes, Santa was pudgy, but he was laughing and happy. Hell, he was a right jolly old elf. And I guess that made me feel even better than the 45 minute walk--the communion with my fellow moms. The feeling that I was not alone. The feelings that come with the fact that my baby is older than hers--girl! I've been there!--and younger than hers--it's going to get even better? great! And yes, even the tiniest sickest feeling that okay, my tummy is bad, but we've got some pretty awesome babies to show for it.

And when I finally got home, got the baby to sleep for her nap, and was able to take a shower, I looked at my belly and I did: I laughed, when I saw it, in spite of myself.

But you can bet I'll be at the mall tomorrow.

giving thanks...or not

At this moment my husband AND my baby are cuddled up on the couch sleeping for a nap. They are absolutely the most precious things in my life. It was a stark contrast to the feeling that this time of the year often stirs in people.

At this time, you hear, depression and suicide are the greatest. It's not actually true, though--it's the spring with the highest suicide rate (April, if you must know, http://www.suicidereferencelibrary.com/test4~id~530.php). But why do we hear that this is the time of the most suffering? Why do we tend to associate this time with stress, annoyance, rushing, and sadness?

Okay, I'm going to ask here that we reclaim the holidays. Take it away from the media, from the news reports, from the Paxil and Lunesta commercials. I'm going to say, hey, I like the holidays. I know, it's going out on a limb. I'm not nuts about them. I don't have framed photos of turkeys only to be displayed on Thanksgiving. But I do like them. I love the family togetherness of them, even if your family drives you nuts. I love the food and the warmth. It's a good time.

I'm not saying I've never felt rushed or stressed about life, especially at this time of the year. But it's remarkable how someone who's not 27 inches long can make you reconsider your scroogey attitude.

Having a baby just makes you feel amazed at this time of year. I mean, it's her first Thanksgiving! Her first taste of the holiday season. It's the first time she's seen cranberry sauce. It's just incredible. Her focus is not on avoiding unpleasant conversation with family or taking candid photos of people eating--her DEAD focus is trained on the little stuffed animal doggie she likes to chew on when we put it across the room. She wiggles and scoots and makes it to the doggie, and celebrates this amazing accomplishment by sticking her tongue out at us while chewing on the ears, or the tag, or the tail of the doggie. Her grandma--her stepgrandma--bought her several non-destroyable bath books which she enjoys listening to should you read them, but she would rather chew on the corners. Her grandpa entertains her by turning her upside down. Her grandma (mommy's mommy, we call her Mimi) showers her with kisses as she eats her rice cereal and bananna mush. There are no awkward conversations, no problematic discussions. Just for a moment or two we are all in awe of this little person and of life in general. This little munchkin makes everyone forget the world and just enjoy her for a moment. And that is good.

So this Thanksgiving I have a little resolution--who needs New Year's, anyways--for myself. Just to sit back and enjoy this time. I'm already folding and putting away little socks, little onsies, that are too small for my little baby--already able to say "ohh, remember when she was little??!" I know this time flies. And I'm determined to enjoy it. It won't be your typical rush-and-stress time of year. This year really is different, and it's because of our little baby, Helena, our Thanksgiving in the flesh.

Can I make it different forever? I don't know--but I can try. I can try to remember to enjoy each little moment of each little day. Thanksgiving is over but I'm still thanks-ful. And heck, Christmas is at our house--be there or be square.

cry baby

Have you ever seen the movie "Cry Baby" from the 80's? It was on at a sleepover I was invited to in 6th grade, and although I didn't see much of it I do remember a scene where the heroine and her man (okay, I'm kind-of making this up) break up and she's so sad that she saves her tears in a glass canning jar.

I'm not a "crier." I don't cry at weddings, seldomly at funerals (unless it's someone I know really well), and rarely even at times when it's something you should do--such as when Ben proposed to me. He got down on a knee, he asked, he cried. All I did was shout "OF COURSE!" and call the family. Anyway, it was with great concern that I began my 5-(-or-more)-month cry fest after having Helena. At first I didn't realize it had gotten so bad...until I found myself one day walking Helena in the hallway (she was about a month old) at night, us both crying at the top of our lungs. Ben heard me over the a/c and came running, but it was then that I noticed...something is definitely different.

Is it hormones? Is it healing from a terrible labor and delivery (for you; for me, just 4 hours of pushing and then a c-section...ahh...)? Or is it the incredible stress that comes from raising another human being who relies on you for pretty much every possible need and want?

Hmm.

I always tell new moms, and they agree, that there should be a book with the stuff they don't tell you. Because even the books that claim "we tell you even the stuff that they don't tell you!" don't tell you. In fact, I am beginning to think that there's an incredible conspiracy with women all over the world to keep the human population growing that goes like this: the first 3 months following labor are so incredibly horrifyingly hard, stressful, scary, confusing, and tiring. And you're thinking the whole time, "oh my! As soon as I heal my wazoo and manage to learn how to get this baby into the carseat into the car by myself and pack up the diaper bag with toys, wipes, extra diapers, and my wallet, I will get out of this house and warn the rest of the women out there!" But the real kicker is that by the time you have recovered from all of that the baby is 3 months old and you're wierdly in love with him or her and have already gone to Sears or JC Penny or The Picture People to get his or her photo taken and have already ordered 46 wallet size likenesses, ...by now you have forgotten how hard that time was, and say things to your friends later like "Oh, yeah, that was pretty rough! Haha! But I remember how cute she was! And how little! Ohh! I..." (and this is the sickest of all) "...miss that time!" And the cycle continues.

Now, just for posterity, I would like to add that it is for this very reason why God made it so men do not carry babies. Men can be really loving and fantastic. But no man would go through that for another human being. This is what would happen: one man would do it and say "Dudes! Don't do it!! That totally SUCKED!" and all men would vow to never become pregnant, and the human race would die out. Oh, BUT you can BET insurance would cover the entire cost of birth control...

Anyway, it's amazing, this mommy thing. Because although it's so hard, you just love them so much. You do, for the new moms out there, and it doesn't always come quickly... but it does come. At first you're so overwhelmed with the sheer magnitude of what you have just done and what is still to be done that seems pretty insurmountable. But then, slowly, you come to realize that it's not that bad, and it does get better, and then she or he will smile at you or roll over or laugh a little throaty "huuh huuh" and you'll think, okay, I can do this. But it doesn't make it easier. It just makes it worthwhile.

And, while you're thinking about how worthwhile it is, let me offer you my canning jar. You'll need to save those tears for later: you don't have time to cry now! You have a baby!

mom's the word

Anytime I am out anywhere with Helena (who, by the way, is getting her second tooth and she's only 5 months and one week old, poor baby), there are comments being made. And this was the case even when I was pregnant--people always offering advice, suggestions, comments... I try now as I tried then to let things pass, as my Auntie says, "in one ear and out the other," but being that I am a person and not an alien incapable of human emotion, that's not always easy.

While I was pregnant, I often heard both "You're HOW far along??! You're HUGE! Are you SURE it's not TWINS?!!" and "You're 7 months? Are you big enough? I was way bigger than that at 7 months!" Now, really, folks, I'm not sure you are aware but there are many people in this world who were actually born to a woman. Um, actually, let me check, yeah, I think all of us were actually. And so this means that as all people are different sizes, shapes, colors, etc. etc. etc. you would probably assume that pregnant women would be too. The most malicious people would look at me pregnant (with too much amniotic fluid, so you know, so I was pretty big) and glare and say helpful comments like "careful how much weight you gain, you don't want stretchmarks, do you?"

The most benign people, when I was pregnant, would say things like "oooohhh! You must be SOOOOO UNCOMFORTABLE!" Nope, sherlock, I feel fantastic carrying this 50 lb. bowling ball under my belly button.

I am a pretty easygoing person (I say this because I'm not quite sure how I'm coming across!). But don't you think that folks would have the decency, sometimes, just to leave well enough alone? You would think that. But no, it continues into motherhood. Just the other day a woman said to me, via cooing to my baby, "wow, you sure do have a lot of toys to play with in there, don't you?" And at first (seriously) my reaction was to want to sneak behind the store shelves and make my baby's stroller a minimalist Ikea-like environment. But after careful consideration, I realized that 1) I know my baby best, and 2) she is teething and therefore needs lots of nice soft things that will be soaked in spit to chew on at all times.

It's amazing to me that mothers, who go through the similar experience of being pregnant, having a baby, and raising it or giving it to others to raise best, could have opinions that hurt other people. Being a mom I'm learning quickly that things in the mom world (breastfeeding, home-schooling, etc.) are very controversial. Turn on Good Morning America and listen to the great debate between moms who work outside of the home and those who stay at home. Or, wanna have some real fun? Google "circumcision." There are mothers out there who are claiming that it's cleaner and better for son and future partner...and there are mothers who are calling it "male genital mutilation."

I have made several decisions about Helena--what she'll eat first, what we do with our day, where I gave birth, breast or bottle, etc.--and she's only 5 months old. I can only imagine the decisions, many of them with several sides, that I will have to make for her and for my other children (should I have any more) in the future. But is it my right to yell at someone else for doing something different? No, I don't think so.

So the next time you feel that gay marriage is wrong, go ahead and defend your point. I will respecfully disagree that anyone should be denied the right to be legally and spiritually bound with someone they love. But please, don't protest a funeral of a soldier who died in Iraq with signs that "God hates fags" because you feel America is being punished for "tolerance of gays." (This truly happened, see link below.)

I don't think moms can justify hating people, judging people, or hurting other people. We have too much in common to hate. (Oh, and, not to get too far from the original topic, let's be a little more thoughtful when shouting things out loud to pregnant women, too!)

I've gotta go--I've gotta put this soap box away before Ben gets home.



oh, and if that link doesn't work try cutting and pasting, and it's from Fox News no less...
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,217760,00.html

peas on earth

Remember to vote today! It's election day--mid-term election day--so go out and vote and make sure you do...only about 40% of people usually turn out for mid-terms. In other very important news, we began to eat this week! Okay, by "we" I mean Helena (I am obviously having no problem with eating, as I still have those last 10 to lose after having her)and by "eat" I mean "diving after the spoon like it's her last meal and yet not managing to actually get the food into her mouth."

Feeding a 5-month-old her repertoire of peas, rice cereal, applesauce, mashed bananas, or squash (the foods she has tried to date) is like tying your shoe on a roller coaster. First, it's nearly impossible to do it right, and second, the whole time you're wondering if it even needs to be done. Of course her food will not fall out of her mouth onto a bystander's head and kill them, but you see the similarity.

I strongly believe, after 5 months, that given the choice Helena would, if I would let her, happily eat breastmilk for the rest of her life. I can actually picture her graduating from high school, smiling for photos, and then sidling up to me, saying "Okay, mom, time for lunch!" Of course this would be terribly inappropriate (I am under the impression that if they can ask for it, they're probably too old for it) but that's just my opinion. Actually, after this long, the whole thing is just so much easier anyway--nothing to prepare, nothing to mix, nothing to heat up, just find a comfy spot and whip it out. As long as there are no men in the room, who become suddenly either totally transfixed or totally horrified, as if I had just said "mind if I do a pole dance in my living room?"

Not only is breastfeeding easier (for me, this is NOT true for all mommies so don't even read this and then yell at someone who isn't doing it...I'm under the impression that mothers should always know better than to say what's "right" and what's "wrong" regarding someone else's child and/or life), but it's kind-of soothing. Yes, that's right. After the entire lifetime of my child spent complaining about how I'm the only one that can feed her (she HATES bottles...read: she asphyxiates herself on a bottle while choking and screaming bloody murder), I suddenly kind of like that tag. It makes me feel pretty damn special, like, okay not only can I birth this miracle, but I am also able to nourish her with my own body. Pretty amazing.

Today on TV there was this newsflash (what is this country becoming??) where a baby from Sweden was laughing his head off at his daddy off camera, and this was like the number 1 "YouTube" video of the day. Anyway, I was at first annoyed, like, this is election day, people, don't we have something else to talk about? But after seeing this little guy (and, by the way, so super cute) I realized: isn't that just what this world needs? Don't you wish that instead of going to war or hurting the environment, the politicians out there actually cared about families, about little kids laughing and playing? If only I could let the Vice President sit down with Helena and try to feed her, maybe he'd loosen up a little, get a little kinder... Stop shooting people...

Yeah, I think she could really bring some peace to this nation. If not today, don't worry, I'm already grooming her to be president in 2048. Just remember to vote for her.

getting around to it

Well, I've finally begun a blog, which both my mom and my dad (divorced) agree upon...and when they agree on something you can bet it's a good idea. Except for George W. (Sorry, mom and dad.) Anyway, they wanted me to write about being a mommy. A little background: I am the proud mommy of Helena Rose, lovely 15-pound (or so) five-(5!)-month-old baby girl. She's amazing and wonderful and of course all the other things that people say about babies, and she's mine. And Ben's, of course...that's her daddy.

Since I was laid off of work 3 days after my return (is that illegal?) I am staying at home. I probably would have chosen to stay at home anyway, so it worked out. And it's quite fabulous to be privy to those sweet wake-up-smiles when Helena first gets up (7am-ish) or to that first-whatever (smile, laugh, crawl). But I've been telling stories lately about the other time in her life...the first three months.

The first three months deserved to be bold-typed, because they were tough. Yes, I was sleep-deprived, yes, she didn't interact much or even do much but fuss, eat, sleep, go potty in her diaper, need to be changed, etc. But the very hardest thing was how everyone else seemed to be in love with the idea that this was "the best time in [my] life" and how much I should enjoy it. I can't count the number of times that folks chided me to "not let this time get away" from me! It was so precious! Or the phrase "I bet you can't even imagine your life without her!"

People, please.

I love this baby. She's really fabulous, and of course like all other mommies I truly believe that she's the best ever and smart and lovely not to mention totally gorgeous, and probably will be witty, when she can talk. BUT the best time of my life?

Never again will I say to a new mom "isn't it the best?? Don't you just love her more than you ever thought possible??!" Because while that is absolutely true of my 5-month-old, at 2-months or so I was thinking, "um...well..."--not that I didn't love her of course. But did I? CAN you really love someone whose main goal in life is to sleep (but not at the same time as her parents, you understand)? The phrase "Can you even imagine your life without her anymore?" made me constantly think, uh, yes, it seems that only two months ago I was sleeping soundly and through the night. (Although pregnant women out there know that you're actually not sleeping for the last 2 months either).

So it's Halloween this last weekend, Helena and daddy went trick-or-treating (she was a zebra!) and I can definitely say with a vengeance now--I LOVE HER! She's so AMAZING! I Can't Imagine My Life Without Her! But it took me a while. And do I think that makes me a bad mom? No, I think that makes me pretty normal. I just wanted to get it out there for those moms who are thinking "Oh crap, this isn't making my life complete!" Don't worry...it will come. For now, keep nursing (or bottling!) and sleeping when they sleep. One day they'll wake up, give you that sleepy morning smile, and you'll think, wow...this is, like, the best time of my life.