Kisses and dancing, oh my

We have so much going on at Chez Plus One these days. While crawling is still apparently of absolutely no interest whatsoever, it's never boring around here.

- Baby kisses! This week saw the arrival of the first baby kisses from Elle. Big, open-mouthed, wet, slobbery kisses.

The first time it happened I thought she was trying to eat my nose, but then she did the same thing again, aimed at my cheek-- very deliberately, and with a very serious face, her eyes enormous. I realized, then, that it was her version of a kiss.

I can't help laughing when she does it, because my face ends up covered in slobber, but it is so sweet and gentle.

- Baby dancing! She has figured out how to get several of her toys to make noise, including one that plays the ABC song. When the ABC song starts, she starts wiggling her tush and moving her arms around, and sometimes her little head starts bobbing as well. It's ridiculously adorable. I do need to catch it on video.

She can't crawl, has little interest in rolling over (she can, but why bother?), and could care less about putting weight on her legs-- but she's got rhythm.

That's my girl.

I am blessed with a baby that, in general, is a happy, inquisitive, funny little bundle of babyness. She wants your undivided attention ALL the time, and if she doesn't get what she wants she's pretty loud about it (common for babies, I think), but overall she's a happy, good baby. I clearly got a great pick in the baby lottery, and I give thanks for that every day.

My parents were in last weekend, and it continues to be an interesting experience. They adore Elle, but she tires them out quickly (I'm an older mother, thus they are older grandparents). I sometimes think they like the idea of her as much, or more, than they actually like her-- they like having a granddaughter, showing off pictures of her, and talking about the cute things she does. The actual work involved in her, they don't like so much.

I think that's probably fairly typical of grandparents.

But it highlights, again, the fact that when you're a single parent, there's no real respite-- not even with family. I'm OK with that. I just have to remember that and not have other expectations. I am the only person driving this bus, and that's how it is.

They also stay with me when they visit, in my very small house. A friend came over for dinner with them one evening, and commented later that it seems like I spend all my time waiting on them when they visit. Now, my parents would laugh at that, but to some degree my friend is right. We've even had conversations that they don't understand why I'm not cooking dinner for them.

"You just don't think about dinners when we're here, do you?" my mother said.

I looked at her. "I don't think about dinners," I responded. "In general."

When she starts eating a regular dinner, I'll start thinking about cooking. At this age, though, it doesn't make any sense. I'll pop in a frozen dinner or reheat leftovers, and often eat them while she has her evening meal of veggies and cereal, but anything more complicated than that doesn't make sense right now. And if you come visit me and there's a dinner involved, we'll be going out, ordering in, or making something extremely simple (something frozen, or something involving pasta).

They can't afford to stay at a hotel (and that's another post entirely: your lifestyle should reflect your income. If it doesn't, there's a problem), so they stay with me. I want Elle to know them for as long as possible, and to be close to them. But they stay with me and then complain about my house.

If my house is not comfortable, stay elsewhere. If you're staying here, shut up.

I need to find a nicer way to say that.

Eight months

Elle is over eight months old now (eight months! wha?) and part of me wishes I could just freeze her right at this age, and keep her just as she is.

But by the time I'd finish wishing I could freeze her, she'd have moved onto something else. Seriously, it's that fast.

***

Did you know the Sou.th Park dudes wrote a musical about the Morm.ons? They did.

I can't make this stuff up.

***

Work has been intense. I've accepted a new role with the same company, and this month I'm doing my new job and my old job. I'm doing this in a situation where I have almost no flexibility, schedule-wise-- I'm already leaving Elle with the sitter for as long as the sitter's schedule allows, and by the time I get her to bed I have about an hour and a half to clean up, have something for dinner, think about what to wear the next day to work, and collapse. So at the moment, it's not like I have any time outside the eight-to-five to get these massive amounts of work accomplished.

Yeah, I'm whining. Sorry. I should probably suck it up and work until 10 or 11 at night and collapse into bed after that, but if I lose sleep, I get sick. I can't afford that.

Of course, I also can't afford to risk my job. It's never a good thing to lose a job, of course. But now I have this little apple-cheeked ball of curiosity dependent upon me, and-- I hate to say it-- there's a low level of terror that if I'm unemployed, she suffers.

That's possibly one of the hardest things about being a single parent, honestly. Unless I win the lottery (and I'd have to play to win, heh), there's always going to be that drumbeat in the back of my mind, that fear about What If.

I'm so behind I'm almost caught up with myself

I really do think about updating this all the time. But as we all know, thinking is not doing.

A lot has gone on since Valentine's Day, when I last posted. Elle is sitting up by herself-- well, mostly. If she spots something she wants she lurches over to grab it and usually ends up on her face, which I find hilarious (I'm a terrible mother!) and she finds soooooo traumatic. (She's also becoming a Drama Mama, which is hysterical.) She's still babbling a lot, but with few consonants; I wouldn't be me if I wasn't worried and projecting out into the future assuming that there's something horribly wrong and I need to get an evaluation and and and.

(I know perfectly well she'll do everything in her own time. But I worry. I can't help it!)

She's been fighting a horrible cold-- bad enough that I took her to the ped on Friday to make sure her lungs/ears were clear. They were, thank goodness. This was complicated by the fact that she's been teething on and off for ages, and right in the middle of her bad cold, the teething switch went back to "on." Saturday was full of excellent naps, thanks to Tyle.nol and the trusty vaporizer. She seems better today.

I marvel, often, at how lucky I am. She's a happy, inquisitive, good natured little baby. She's already able to entertain herself for short stretches (though she likes me nearby), and she finds other people and their activities endlessly entertaining. I mean, I'm actually able to get to church most weeks, because she loves the lights and music and people. Also, my church has a little area on the side for kids with a rug and toys, so we go over there and we hang out, sometimes playing, sometimes watching other kids play (big fun), and sometimes having her bottle.

I feel like I'm getting my feet under me, mostly. And while I know the entire definition of parenthood is that the ground shifts constantly (usually when you least expect it), I think our little family is pretty wonderful. I can't wait to see what's ahead.

Happy Valentine's Day

Dear Elle:

Happy first Valentine's Day! They can call this a Hall.mark holiday all they want, but if you look at it as a celebration of love and connection, you've made it my best Valentine's Day ever.

February is my least favorite month of the year, in general. It's cold and dark. There are no holidays from work. Winter is usually beating the crap out of us, and while the month is the shortest of the year, it always feels like the longest.

This time last year, I was pregnant. I was just starting to believe that yes, this pregnancy was 1) real and 2) was going to stick. When you're over 40 (by a couple of years ::ahem::) and pregnant the statistics are terrible. TERRIBLE. You're basically just waiting for something to inevitably go wrong, and it was hard for me to believe that I (and you) was a statistical improbability.

(I still don't believe it sometimes, to be honest.)

Some women-- and many single moms, I've noticed-- are much more excited during their pregnancy than I was. Please never take that as an indication that I wanted you any less, or that I wasn't impatient to meet you. It was the simple fact that I just couldn't believe it, couldn't believe you-- right up until I saw your face for the first time, all red and bright-eyed and taking everything in.

So you're here for your first Valentine's Day, and while I've had some nice Valentine's Days in the past, this one wins. Hands down.

Our Valentine's breakfast ended with you spitting cereal into your hands and mushing them together with great joy. You were so proud of yourself-- after all, a few minutes earlier you didn't even know you could do that. Our Valentine's dinner ended with you flinging your spare spoons on the floor (as always) and looking incredibly pleased with the noise.

And later, I sang to you as you struggled against sleep, rubbing your head under my chin.

I didn't even know you a year ago, but I'm so glad you're here. Happy Valentine's Day to my wonderful, tiny valentine. I love you.

Love,
Your Mom

What do you mean it's February?

Seriously, it's been too long since I've updated. Sorry about that. Not that my life is all that riveting, of course, but I hte it when blogs go quiet and you don't know what happened.

(Looking at the dates, it's been exactly one month since I updated. I had no idea I was so precise.)

I'm too tired tonight to do much of an update, even though a thousand things have happened-- all very small things, yes, but a thousand. Elle is seven months old and every day she's more interesting. Babies are great because they're tiny and sweet, but I have to be honest: older babies are just plain more interesting. To me, anyway.

So I have many things to say about my beautiful daughter. I also have many things to say about being a single mom, and what I learn every day (and what I'll probably never figure out). And I think all those things will have to wait until I'm way more awake.

So we're here, we're happy and busy, and more to come.

Dignity. Always dignity.

Elle is very, very busy these days with two things:

1. Sitting up.
2. Finding her voice.

The fact that she can't really do #1 doesn't stop her from trying one bit. She wants to be UP! UP UP UP! She isn't even rolling over (she can; she just doesn't) but darn it, if she's not sitting up, you are MEEEEEAN.

Girl's gonna have some nice abs.

She's a chatty little thing, as well, so #2 is a lot of fun. She'll talk to just about anyone and, often, anything.

In church this past week, she was chatty. My favorite moment, though, was in the middle of a very quiet moment when she let out a belch that was likely heard far and wide.

That's my girl.

Happy 2011

Happy New Year! I hope 2011 brings happiness and health to you, wherever you may be.

---

I know someone in one of my groups who has had a long and difficult road towards motherhood, and is now waiting to be matched for adoption. You can feel the yearning for motherhood just pouring off every word she speaks; it's defining her life-- her existence-- in ways it never defined mine. I get the impression, too, that it always has, but the difficulty of her journey has intensified it (for obvious reasons).

I wanted to be a mother, yes, but it never consumed me like it does her.

For some reason I was thinking back over all of this, and realized again how unusual (lucky) I have been. At my advanced age, I had my first visit with a RE (reproductive endocrinologist) in May 2009, and after a little cleaning up of things, was pregnant on my first IVF attempt in October of that year. Healthy daughter born in 2010.

That's still just... bizarre to me.

Now, the fact that I went straight to IVF was certainly a factor. If I'd played around with IUI at my age, I might have been dealing with a tiny/narrow window that ended up closing before I was successful. If there's one thing that's clear from my experiences and the experiences of other women I know (single OR married, it makes no difference), it's that you can be perfectly fertile one month, and fall off the cliff the next. (Especially when you're over 40.) I know so many couples and singles that had no trouble catching pregnant with their first child (or two), but after that simply weren't able to be successful without intervention. And sometimes they weren't successful even with intervention.

Fertility is such a gamble. Heck, there are 28 year olds who don't have viable eggs. You never know.

I was sure I wasn't going to get pregnant and would move to adoption, so I was ready for my IVF journey to end badly. And, if you read back, my insurance would not have covered further attempts, so I was pretty much going to be done at one. I might have tried a few IUIs, but I don't even know about that. I also never had any interest in donor egg/embryo, so that wasn't an option. For me, it was IVF -> possibly an IUI or two -> adoption.

So I was pretty matter-of-fact about the whole thing. I had always felt called to adoption (I still do, honestly, and if the universe plopped 40K in my lap, I'd start trying to adopt #2, however crazy that may sound), so I thought that's where the universe was going to lead me. I tried IVF because I wanted to rule it out so I didn't look back and wonder someday.

I guess I don't have to look back and wonder, hm? ;)

Anyway. It strikes me, sometimes, as unfair that my journey was so... concise. Straightforward. (I will not say easy, because there were points that were definitely not easy.) But it was a fairly straight line from A to B(aby)... for someone who never wanted it with the intensity and urgency that this other woman does.

Shouldn't she be a mother, she who wants it with every cell in her body? I know that has nothing to do with anything, but it still seems off. And I understand why I haven't seen this woman in person at gatherings for a long time; it must be incredibly painful for her to be in a roomful of people who have everything she's ever wanted, and often got their wish with little, if any, suffering involved.

I'd like to think her road has been long because, when she's finally matched for adoption, that baby is the baby that's meant to be with her, and the universe simply wouldn't accept anything less. I hope that's the case.

And part of my mind wonders if any baby is going to be able to fill that great longing within her. Because motherhood, while amazing and terrifying and spectacular, cannot in any way fix what's broken, or fill all of our empty spaces.