What a difference a year makes...

This year, I watched the fireworks TRIUMPHANTLY. (And cried like a little girl.)

I don't wanna be a good girl scout...and love for each of these, my two babies.

There was a time in my life when I realized I might never have children. And as my grief started to subside (or perhaps in order to kill it) I became intoxicated on the easy indolence of childlessness and on the redemption of graduate school and on all the hedonistic pleasure I could muster. I set aside two hours of every day to sit on my front porch and relish good beer. I gloried in the roughhoused messiness of this neighborhood and on the freedom offered by a little bit of money in a good economy and the opportunities I had to eat and drink on the long-fabled (and now sadly diminished if not entirely extinct) investment banker's expense account. And I made art. Not good art. But art nonetheless.

And then, I found out about Carrie. And everything changed. It has taken me some time to get back on my feet, so to speak, and to begin to make sense of my position as mother. Soon, B. will be here, too and I'll have to make some more adjustments not so much to who I am as to my perception of myself.

This is part of a much longer post, but for now, I remember who I was and accept who I am and relish the idea that the two are reconciled. At least for now.

Someday, I'll suit up again and pour some iron. But for now, there is Tom Waits. Who I hope to introduce to my babies. Here you go, babies.

Had another ultra sound today....saw parts. And OH my poor poor uterus and its adhesions. It is punishing me for making it work overtime. It is telling me that it needs a break. I can't believe its already been 16 weeks! I learned today that it is difficult to find an "I'm the Big Sister" t-shirt in a size as small as the one I'll need.

The TMI post. So, stop reading now if you aren't feeling compassionate.

So, I think most of my friends now know that I am going to have another baby in October. That's right. I have a 9-month-old. They will be 15 months apart. I don't think I've blogged directly about this subject, frankly, because I don't blog about painful subjects too often. Moderately painful? Yes, but seriously painful? Not too much. I had a vision of some beautiful eloquent blog about my birth experience. It ain't going to happen, though. So, sorry. Here's what I've got:

When I was pregnant with C., I had a problem with P.I.H. that resulted in an induction at 38 weeks. Medically, it was a sound decision for my doctor to make. I wasn't pressured or pushed or compelled to go into labor so my doctor could go on vacation. I had a pretty good experience. Spent the night in the hospital and by three the next afternoon, I was minutes away from delivering. But, a totally unpredictable complication arose and I wound up having a very emergent c-section. The time from "decision to incision" was less than three minutes. Carrie was born in less than 7 minutes. My OB saved my baby's life. When she had finished repairing my incision, she came over and gave me a kiss on the head. We've kind of had a weird bond ever since.

But, what I remember about my birth experience is having a nurse jump on the bed with me and running down the hallway to the O.R. I remember the frantic instructions being literally shouted back and forth between the medical staff. I remember feeling the tug of the incision before I was all the way on the table. I remember the bright lights and the way I spread my arms out so the anesthesiologists could get the lines they needed. I asked the doctors if I was going to die. But, all that was really ok. I didn't mind not having a "normal" birth experience too much. I was grateful to have received the care I needed.

The hard part came after everything was over. I didn't get to see my baby because I was upstairs with a morphine drip and she was downstairs in the NICU. As I write this, I realize I'm not ready to write about the details yet. Suffice it to say, it was hard.

I was shocked at how many people have some pretty mean things to say about C/S in the U.S. Doctors are blamed (a lot) for doing unnecessary surgeries and inductions. It seems that all of a sudden, some people don't even believe in the possibility of a needed intervention. And people come out of the woodwork to criticize your decision (except for that I didn't really have a decision) or to let you know that if you had chosen a different kind of health-provider you wouldn't have had the experience you did. So, it becomes your fault that you had an emergency c/s and a baby in the NICU. And it sucks. (And this is not to say that whatever you did or whatever you choose is awful. You have freedom, too. It's just to say that I wouldn't have a baby if I had made another choice. And that is black and white.)

What has also been hard, though, is that I am now faced with the prospect of going through the whole process again. But this time, I have the choice whether or not to have a C/S again. And it's a choice I've made. And I'm feeling okay about it. But it's pretty soon to be making that choice again. And I'm not going to lie and say that this is going to be easy, or that I'm not nervous.

And that is all. Except for this: I don't have a scar. Not even a little tiny scar. I mean I have NOTHING to show for all of this trauma. Who comes away with a 7-inch incision (emergency c/s incisions are large and uneven) with NO SCAR? I do. Thanks, wonderful OB fairy.

From USA Today

"A South Carolina Roman Catholic priest has told his parishioners that they should refrain from receiving Holy Communion if they voted for Barack Obama because the Democratic President supports abortion and supporting him 'constitutes cooperation with intrinsic evil.'"

Well, he might be celibate but he's...um...in tact.

le pain quotidien

1. Icy water in a soft-spouted sippy-cup is nice when you have a new tooth coming up.

2. I relish the idea of taking two semesters off to spend with my Big Baby and my Little Baby and David. I eat and breathe literature, but I need some time just to be a reader and not a student. My little one will be four months old when I go back, and I'll be ready.

3. My mother-in-law said that being in graduate school, toting around a 9-month-old, selling a house and being pregnant is a lot for one girl to do. That validation was like honey.

4. I have decided to forego the organic co-op in light of the fact that the farmer's market will really be kicking it up before too long.

5. It isn't popular to say, but this little family really is the work of my life. Obviously, not the only work of my life, but the sweetest.

6. A meal from Chez Fon Fon would feed more than my body right now.

Caro and the Cheerio Bib

My Aunt Sister gave me a Cheerrio bib. I can keep my Cheerios in the little pocket at the bottom and eat them up when I'm feeling hungry. I might like to eat them in church and smile at Father L. I can always make him laugh when he is trying to deliver his sermon.

What? Are you looking at me?

Today, we had the unexpected chance to have lunch with D. at his office. C. and Corduroy loved eating the grass and I loved spending time with D. Somehow, I can't get tomato pie out of my mind. Time to plant a bucket-o-basil.