Waiting (in several different ways)

I'm stuck at home this beautiful Saturday morning, waiting for the meter reader (and when they say "between 8 and noon," I'm expecting him at 11:58), so I'm using the time to putter around the house. And, apparently, blog.

Quick thoughts before moving on to some articles that have appeared recently...

The last few weeks of pregnancy appear designed to:

1. Make you long to go into labor.
2. Make you not really care exactly how they get this baby out of you. C-section? Bring it on! Right now! Don't even wait for anaesthesia, doctor!
3. Make you appreciate your pre-third-trimester bladder capacity, however tiny it might have been at the time.

Enough said.

***

There have been a rash of articles lately about donor conception, based on a study done by the Commission for Parenthood's Future. The survey has concluded some very negative things about donor-conceived children, including confusion, depression, and other problems. (They also find an increased amount of issues with adopted children.)

There are problems with the survey. The organization that did the survey is a conservative group (including being anti-same sex marriage, and thinking climate change is bunk), so the possibility of survey bias is certainly there. People on one of my discussion lists have pointed out numerous issues with the survey itself, including how the survey sample was chosen (self-selected, rather than random), no control group used, the structure of the questions themselves, etc. Even to a stats amateur such as myself, there seems to be smoke and mirrors going on there.

After all, facts are stubborn things, but statistics are more pliable.

Even if you write off the survey organization themselves as hacks, though, it's worth considering the information, and the effect your choices have on your offspring. Do I think it's ideal to raise my daughter as a single mother? I do not. And, for the record, I have not given up the hope of finding a partner to share my life with, and to hopefully be a father figure for my child. (I don't think I'll give up on hoping for a partner even if I'm old and toothless in a nursing home, thanks.)

But for now, it's her and me. I hope I can rear her to be smart and confident, and to understand that however she was conceived, it was with a whole lot of love. I'm also going to make sure she meets other kids in similar family situations; I'm trying to stay active in my local single mom group for that reason. (It's also good support for me!) Families are all different shapes and sizes, and just like I want her growing up knowing people of all genders, races, ages, etc. and thinking that's completely normal, I want her growing up seeing that "family" is not a one size fits all definition.

Now, I'm using an "open ID donor," so I've made a choice that will allow my daughter to initiate contact with her donor once she's 18. I don't expect that this will make everything perfect, of course, but she'll know that I didn't close that door for her. (And, unlike one of the authors of the study, I will always be honest with my child about the circumstances of her conception. The truth will always out, whether it be donors or adoption, and secrets destroy. You just can't lie to kids.)

I'd love to see a rigorously conducted and peer-reviewed study on donor-conceived children of single parents (along the lines of the recent survey that showed children of lesbian parents have done extremely well-- look at the construction of that research vs. the CPF survey). (Note-- this link also provides info on the donor conception survey I'm discussing.) I'd like this very much.

But until we get that, I'm going to read the less-rigorous surveys for the information, but take them with a very large, and very crunchy, grain of salt.

Three weeks left

So much for keeping people posted with my blog, hm?

I’m still pregnant. 37 weeks, which means she can come any time and be just fine, medically speaking. But I’d like about another week and a half, to be honest— there are a few things I’d like to get done. (And if she hangs on past the weekend of the 26thth, I have a party and then a zoo outing I wouldn’t mind attending—though being not pregnant sounds awfully appealing.)

What’s great, though, is that there’s nothing overly critical that needs to happen. If she decides to make an appearance early, I have clothes, a place for her to sleep, bottles/formula (I am planning to bfeed, but you never know), diapers, and wipes. Anything else can be ordered online, or brought over by the kindness of friends.

It’s weird to know that, at pretty much any time, all my plans and schedules could go entirely out the window. As a planner, it’s kind of exciting yet crazy-making at the same time. Will I get all the baby clothes washed before she shows up? Will the glider come in? (Seriously, I ordered that dang glider when I was about five minutes pregnant. Oy. Bu.y Bu.y Baby, you are ON NOTICE.)

And speaking of baby clothes, this baby has a MOUNTAIN of them. Sadly, many of them are newborn or 0-3 months, which she may grow out of in the first five minutes of her life. I’m doing some judicious returns and getting larger sizes, where I can (note for future reference: always give a gift receipt; you don’t know what the new parent/s already have!). I don’t want her to be suddenly nekkid at six months, you know.

I’ve also been the very lucky beneficiary of some terrific hand-me-downs. This is, seriously, why I have so much stuff. I’ve gotten things at the showers, yes, but I’ve also gotten bags and boxes of wonderful, lovingly used clothes—some from people I don’t even know, but who heard through friends that I was pregnant and sent them along. The kindness that’s out there amazes me.

Although, as one friend told me, it’s a little bit of kindness and a whole lot of “Oh, yay! I can get these clothes out of my house and free up space!” ;)

I look forward to passing the clothes on, as well. For both reasons.

I do need to do a belly picture. I’m definitely visibly pregnant—no question any more—but keep being told that I do not look three weeks away from my due date. As one friend at work said, “You don’t look like you’re about to have a baby. You look like you had a big lunch.” While I think she is mostly just being kind, it’s nice not to be huge. Hello, I’m uncomfortable enough at this size!

But I’m still making it to the gym on weekends, and was at yoga tonight. That’s something.

And so it goes. I'm ready; I'm looking forward to meeting my daughter.

Getting along

...Wow. I haven't updated in a while. Sorry about that; this month has quickly gotten away from me. Work has been busy (and generally fulfilling, which is a nice change), I've been fairly active on weekends, and blogging has fallen by the wayside.

Still pregnant. I'm at 35 weeks tomorrow. In two weeks, I'll be at the point where they will consider the sproglet full-term, and not worry if I go into labor. Even if I go into labor right now (ack-- God forbid!) her medical problems should be minor and short-term. Everything's formed; she's just gaining weight and putting the finishing touches on her lungs.

So, at this point, I'm basically a slow cooker. Even if, on hot days like today, I feel like a convection oven!

I've reached the point where I'm definitely visibly pregnant (though apparently, I'm still small for how far along I am), and where I'm definitely uncomfortable. So, little Miss Sproglet, stay in there two more weeks and after that, any time. Please.

Had lunch with a friend yesterday who told me that her late mother (who I knew and liked very much) had a knack for predicting when people would deliver, and she belives she inherited a touch of it. She thinks I'll be early. I do too, actually-- the baby's already head down and very (verrrrry) low, and I myself was two weeks early.

I'm going to basically start treating every day at work as my possible last day, after this week. This week, I'm going to clean stuff up (more than I already have).

I had the friends-of-mom shower a couple of weekends ago. This coming weekend is the friends shower, then the weekend after that is the last friends shower that I have objected to strenuously but was overruled on.

(The shower this coming weekend had an invite list of about 15 people-- and if I had expanded it to the next level out of friends, it would have approached 40. And that's totally not fair to the two good friends hosting it. So the last friends shower is a casual potluck BBQ in a park, where people can bring kids and hang out, and my mother is not invited. I still object, because I don't like the fuss at all, but at least it's casual.)

Oh, and this week is also my church choir shower, which I also objected to, and was told in no uncertain terms that they would have it whether I was there or not.

Don't mess with Episcopalians and a party. That's all I'm saying.

Sunshiny

The last two posts were grumpy and/or sad and/or blue, and as I head out of town for a couple of days I hate to leave that at the top of the blog.

I'm sitting on the sofa net surfing while a guy resurfaces my upstairs bathtub, after which I'll throw my suitcase in the car and go back to visit my hometown for my first baby shower. (This is strategy at its finest-- get away from the fumes, and by the time I'm back on Sunday afternoon, no fumes! I'll still need to shower at the Y for a few days next week, but that's OK. A little yucky, but OK.)

So, on this sunshiny Friday morning, a few good things:

- I threw some box hair coloring on last night, and it looks good. Nice red highlights without the Bozo brassiness of the color I used last time (which they've discontinued, possibly because of the Bozo factor...). I did miss my temples, as I was wearing my glasses, but with my hair down you can't tell. And it's the temp kind, so I can fix shortly.

- It is a beautiful day. Absolutely beautiful. Perfect crisp blue sky, temps under 70... couldn't be nicer.

- I have wingmen for the shower in my hometown-- G is coming with, and my friend K is coming as well. K's husband is from the same area, so she's combining visiting her mother-in-law with the shower. It will be good to have them around as backup. They both know some of my recent struggles and, I think, will be a nice bumper.

As I said to another friend yesterday, though, I have to work to be the better person on this stuff: know my boundaries, set them with a smile, and let the other stuff roll off me. Easier said than done with family, I know. But that's what my goal needs to be. Making myself crazy over this does no one any good, and I cannot change how they act. I can only change how I react.

- The sproglet continues to be just fine: measuring absolutely normally, normal heartbeat, etc. She's also already head-down and has been for a couple of weeks. I'm hoping she stays that way-- she's an active but not overly-active fetus, so hopefully there's no flipping around at the last minute.

Also, my blood pressure, sugar, and weight continue to track right in the center of the "normal" range. Excellent. I'm always happy to be boringly normal on this kind of stuff.

I know that this couldn't possibly be a less exciting post, but at least it's not gloomy doomy. Have a great weekend, all.

Blue

I had a really good morning, then this afternoon got hit with the blues. A big case of the blues.

I'm going to blame it on hormones-- I get to do that now-- but it wasn't just that. For some reason, I was really missing my little Vertigo Dog today. I can't believe she's been gone for ten months. I still come home, and part of me expects to see her face there, those fabulous ears up, tail wagging. There's nothing like coming home to the best dog in the world, and coming home without her there still feels all wrong.

I think it will feel wrong for a long time.

Then, at work, someone who I used to call a friend is leaving, and I had to do some of the stuff related to his departure. It was all perfectly cordial, but nothing more than that. This is someone I used to joke with, laugh with-- he was a work friend. I thought he was a good work friend.

I was wrong. Our friendship changed a long time ago, he decided I was something I'm not without ever talking to me about it, and now he's part of a group of people that simply don't like me. And we aren't friends any more.

This all happened a while ago, and I've been OK with it. Today, though, just brought a lot of it back, and made me sad again.

So while I'm blaming the hormones, it's not just that.

I think Jon St.ewart will cheer me up now.

Not your typical Mother's Day post

I hate clicking on a link to a blog-- that's linked at an aggregation site, so theoretically they want to be found-- and it's 100% password protected. Hey, I have no problem with wanting privacy. But then perhaps you should have that link taken down.

**

Childbirth class is over. Now I just need to practice the relaxation techniques. The instructor says to practice every day. I'm going to be very, very happy if I practice five times a week!

**

At lunch with a friend last weekend, we were talking about my impending parenthood, and our parents. This friend has a somewhat troubled relationship with her mom, so one of our topics when we get together one-on-one is often our dynamics with our mothers.

My mom and I have had a fairly stable and generally good relationship for years, but my pregnancy has definitely upset that particular apple cart. She's thrilled about the baby, which is wonderful. But her excitement has led to what I can only describe as something that looks a lot like mania: she wants to talk, all the time, about everything. Everything, anything. Constantly. In monologue format; there's very little actual conversation. No detail is too small to obsess over.

They live out of town, so in the past we've talked on the phone once a week; maybe twice if something specific comes up. She's now calling me far more than that-- not every day, but close. And after me being in the workforce for more years than I'd rather count, she still doesn't understand that when I'm at work, I don't have 20 minutes to talk about where everyone will be sitting at the shower. (And even if I did have 20 minutes, I don't care, though I'll be polite.) Despite conversations repeatedly over many years about how I'm at work, she still gets insulted that I keep the conversations short.

She also calls in the evenings, when the last thing I want to do is talk on the phone after a full day of... talking on the phone for my job. And if she calls and leaves a message and doesn't hear back quickly, I get multiple messages in That Tone Of Voice. (All you daughters know the Tone I mean.)

So it's a whole thing. I've been trying hard to approach this with empathy: she's thrilled. She's just got me, and had more or less given up any hope of a grandchild, and here one comes. I'm so happy she's happy. I'm lucky she's happy and supportive. But I am what I am.

Long story short, I was talking with my friend about this. I didn't realize, I told her, how this was going to change my life. And not in the way I expected-- obviously, being a parent is a massive, massive change I probably can't even imagine.

What I didn't realize was how my parenthood was going to open my life up to my family. And not always in ways I like, or am comfortable with.

I'm already changing my life for my daughter, and I am ready and willing and excited about it. But I don't think I can change for my parents-- at least not in the way I think they want me to.

This baby is not going to turn me into the daughter of my mother's dreams.

I'm still going to be the vaguely crabby, flamingly liberal, not Catholic any more single daughter who just isn't like all the other daughters of her friends. I'm not likely to suddenly start living in a four-bedroom house with a two car garage, 2.5 kids and a membership to the local country club.

And I'm not going to ever be the daughter who calls her mother every day.

For the record, I hope my daughter isn't either when she's my age. I hope her life is full and rich. I also hope that she thinks of me-- and calls me every so often. For a conversation.

Because she wants to.

Pillow Talk

In general, when you're pregnant, sleeping becomes more challenging.

(Many people say it's putting you in training for when there's an actual baby onsite, who may or may not have any idea what "middle of the night" means.)

You can't sleep on your stomach, because your stomach is sticking out in front of you-- ow. You generally can't sleep on your back (according to the American Pregnancy Association, which I've never heard of but found through the magic of Google, "This can cause problems with backaches, breathing, digestive system, hemorrhoids, low blood pressure and decrease in circulation to your heart and your baby. This is a result of your abdomen resting on your intestines and major blood vessels (the aorta and vena cava).")

Under normal circumstances, guess which positions I sleep in 90% of the time?

So I'm now an unwilling side-sleeper. And along with me for the ride on this is an elaborate pillow setup. Currently, there are three pillows involved in settling in for the night:

1. A nice pillow under my head.
2. A long pillow on my left side, which is the optimal side to sleep on. (Here's why.)
3. Another, shorter pillow on my right side.

(This is going to be interesting when it gets into the hot weather, when I don't like anything touching me...)

I try to fall asleep on my left side, with the pillow against me and the bottom part of the pillow between my knees. Over the course of the night, I'll wake up in a variety of positions, of course, and I'll try to reposition myself.

The pillows are key to this. They are partially designed to keep me from rollling on my back like a beached whale, and partially so I can fling one arm over a pillow on either side and feel more supported. It's all very complicated. When I get up to use the washroom and then come back to bed, I have to go through the whole pillow-positioning routine again. And then again.

Thank goodness I have extra pillows in the first case.

And, for the record? I know perfectly well I may have a baby that thinks the middle of the night is the perfect time to exercise her lungs for her future opera career. However, in the few moments she allows me to get some shuteye, at least I'll be able to get that sleep on my stomach or flat on my back.

That sounds pretty great to me.

**

I finally talked to a friend yesterday who didn't know about the baby-- we'd traded a bunch of phone calls earlier in the year, but between my work schedule and her extremely busy mom-of-three schedule (and her youngest is special needs), we didn't connect and it fell off both our radars. Now the news is getting out at work (seriously, it's about time), she heard something at a party last weekend, and shot me an e-mail that basically said "Call me, or I'll hunt you down like a rabid dog." (It didn't say that, of course, because she's a kind and lovely person. But it was Stern; had a definite mom-vibe to it. In a good way.)

I was a little worried about her reaction. She's an extremely conservative Christi.n. But I should have known better-- she's the only conservative Christi.n I've ever met who doesn't judge others on her standards. And, if she loves you, that trumps everything.

She was thrilled, and it was so good to talk to her. I'm not sharing details widely (except in my blog, which all the world can see, of course-- heh), but I trust her and it was just nice to chat.

She sent an e-mail later, after our call, and it teared me up. Her last line was "You were made for this."

I hope she's right. Whether or not she is, I'm incredibly lucky to have the support and love of so many amazing people in my life.

And now, before the hormones again turn me into Weepy McSobberson, I'm heading out to Tar.get. I'd make a joke about my boring weekend, but it's not going to be boring at all-- tonight is ROLLER DERBY.

Ha! I can't wait.