I read in a book yesterday that putting together a nursery is an important part of early bonding with your baby. According to this book, objects and art around the baby will be a part of the baby’s first stimulation. What we choose to expose our child to will become the building blocks of who our child is to become. This will be the first way for us to give some culture to our child. It will be the first teaching of our family’s aesthetic style.
Well then. If this is the case, I venture to guess that our child will have a strong foundation in urban minimalism. Our house has been on the market (with a small break around the the winter holidays) for the better part of 4 months. We will give it another 3 weeks before pulling if off of the market in favor of getting ready for some baby arrival.
I love our little condo! It was first Milton’s perfect bachelor pad. Then we redecorated and made it our perfect love nest. It has a great view of the city, a private roof deck, and is just blocks away from anything you could possibly want in Seattle. It is my most very favorite place that I have ever lived in. As a wife and cook, I work this small place like it is a machine and actually love that everything is so close together. I don’t even think I would ever want a big huge house. It just seems like too much work, and I feel like my husband and I would be too far away from one another if we had more than a few good rooms.
The thing is, our place is a loft. It doesn’t have any separate rooms unless you count the bathroom. It’s just one big happy box. I don’t think that most couples could get along in a living situation like this one, but Milton and I are very very happy. We know when to be quiet and we know when to have a discussion from the lofted bedroom to the living room below. I don’t think we’ve ever had a difficult moment between us that is spatially related. Adding a baby, however, could potentially cause a problem. The slippery stairs don’t have a railing. There aren’t any doors to close to block Junior from devastation. There are nerdy wires falling from several computered surfaces. It’s kind of an adults only sort of place.
Or so we’ve thought. If this place doesn’t sell, we’re going to begin an endeavor in March that will redecorate this place once more to make room for this baby. Some shelves. An old-fashioned pram for use as a bassinet. A few less computers. An open space for lounging about on the floor. A new easy to clean rug underfoot. The key has got to come from a few creative solutions for urban baby nesting. We can handle that as long as we can scrape together a few bucks.
The more I think about it, the more I think we’ll be just fine with our urban minimalist baby. We don’t ever plan on living outside of a city (‘burbs scare me, I gotta be honest), so our son can just get used to slippery stairs, the sounds of cars outside, cavorting on the streets, and our voices shouting from the loft to the living room.
I think your father felt your knee inside my belly last night. You moved quickly away and are ever elusive with your positioning. Sometimes, I feel high high kicks that are close to my ribs. On those days, I can also feel what might be your 10 little fingers tickling so far down low in my belly that I feel you might stick an arm out from me and wave. I can be pretty sure on these days that you are already in the position that will be most conducive to our comfort when I go into labor in 3 months. BUT, there are other days when you stretch to other positions. Laying across my belly. Swimming around in circles. Are you a fish? Are you a yogi like your mom? A runner like your dad? Something all together completely new, unexpected, or different? I am trying hard not to project our personalities on you; I can feel every day that you are of your own mind… but it’s hard for me to not think of you as sharing at least a few similar interests with your parents. I hope you won’t get too annoyed with me later in life when you strike out on your own and I tell you that you’re a part of us. I’ll try to keep an open mind, ok?
For now, since I am able to communicate with these words, I would like to state for the record how I feel your kicking, rolling, and finger tickling will translate to your personality. Bear with me a bit and we can have a laugh later over how very wrong or very right I may be.
For now, you seem to like it when I pat you through my belly. Maybe it calms you down. Maybe it reminds you that there are two of us in here. When I stop before you are ready for me to be done, you kick and roll to let me know that we haven’t yet finished bonding. I feel like this is an indication of what’s to come when you’re here, on the outside of me, and we get to spend hours during your beginning – communicating through my pats and your kicks, coos and shouts. I’m appreciating the early training we have now while certainly looking forward to all the the fun we’ll get to have later. I think you might be a little like me, needing to know that someone is always there to love you and pet you.
The quality, consistency, and timing of your motion tells me that you’ve got a persistent character, but that you’re not too forceful. You don’t move suddenly. You build up and roll down. You tickle rather than jerk. You are a fluid little fish inside me. Sometimes I poke you and you poke me back, playfully. Sweetly. I never feel as if you’re uncomfortable or unhappy. I venture to hope that you have the Benson family positivity streak… goodness knows that’ll be useful to you in this house.
This is all I know about who you are, for now. And I realize that it’s all speculation. I reserve the right to change my opinion of you at any time. You can reserve the right to tell me that I’m wrong anytime, too. Just please, be as gentle as you are now. I already love you too much to fight.
Love,
your Mum
by Milton on Fri, Jan 29th, 2010
in Week 25
Every night I have the pleasure of rubbing down Esther’s belly with some oils and I use the opportunity to probe for signs of our son in there. Which way is he facing? How deep in there is he? The midwives showed me how to go about this investigation, but I have to admit that I didn’t really catch on to what exactly is the baby and what’s Ester’s guts and organs. I try to push her belly from side to side, trying to sort of bounce the baby around in there to get a sense of where resistance is met and where it gives. Her belly seems to be pretty balanced from side to side for the most part. But then how do kicks sometimes appear on all different sides of her belly? Does he have 8 legs? Is he part cephalopod (my spirit animal kingdom)?
Well, all of this prefaces the fact that last night , right next to Esther’s belly button, I felt a definite limb! And he kicked with it! And it was definitely a foot. Esther felt it too and she squealed with delight. I think that was the first time she had felt him from the outside as well.
It was pretty awesome.
My father has been appearing in my dreams a lot lately. Probably because I feel myself overlapping with my father at this particular part of my life. When he was my age, I was 8 years old. Which, in hindsight, is halfway through my life with him, as he passed away when I was 17. But in many ways I see my parents as wise beyond their years in their parenting of me, and I only hope I can meet the bar that they’ve set. I’m gonna try real hard.
In the meantime, I am discovering that I’m also highly sensitive to the thought of “changing” when I become a father. I don’t like changing in predictable ways, and the more people say things like “oh, you’re going to think completely differently about things once you’re a parent” the more I resist those changes. I want my changes to come from inside me, and not to be guided by expectations or stereotypes or the occasional cynical remark.
That said, I’ve already become much more of a home-body, just as the stereotypes dictate. Ahead of time, even. Half because I don’t want to leave my lovely pregnant wife at home by herself and half because I feel like I’m in some kind of cocoon state that is requiring all of my subconscious resources to build new subconscious structures to help transition me into the new responsibilities and opportunities of fatherhood. That, and I’ve also become somewhat of a workaholic, at least in terms of hours. I feel like this is my last couple months to really devote myself 100% to the foundation of my self-employment, and even though I’ll be as loyal to work and career after I become a father, it will no longer be the primary recreational activity that occupies my brain. Also, I’m loving work right now and that’s pretty awesome to have. Of course, even though people don’t actually say this to me, I feel like the male stereotype of PROVIDING that complements the female stereotype of NESTING is one I should resist. Yeah, it’s all a little neurotic but that’s just the way my brain’s wired. I will do everything I can to help the family, but I will never claim to having sole responsibility for the providing, nor exclusion from the nesting. Enough about that.
Today Esther and I purchased some art supplies that we’ll be putting to use in the next week as our first joint art project. In a way, other than our genes and bodies and minds, this will be the first physical gift that we give to our future son. It’s quite fun to be able to celebrate and meditate on him through creative art projects.
I was so excited to order these leggings online last week. Leggings have been a mainstay since my first trimester. They are maximum comfort to a pregnant belly. I love the photos of the Ingrid and Isabel leggings. I love the supportive stretch over the belly, and how you can tuck it down under everything when you get really big.
I got them last week and loved them at first sight. The fabric is soft, though thinner than I had expected. No matter. I’ve worn them to two yoga classes, and once to work.
I put them on under a tunic today and sighed. It seems that there are already a few small fuzzy pulls on my calf. Also, my favorite and lovely over the knee boots have ruined the fabric where they hit over the knee. How disappointing! So much for a $50 pair of leggings that reports to have been tested for wear and tear. I was hoping that if I shelled out a little extra, I could just wear them everyday if I hand washed them every night. These leggings won’t last another month at this rate.
I think that my next order will go for these $20 micro-fiber leggings on Amazon, which look exactly the same. I won’t feel as bad ruining $20 leggings as I feel having already ruined these.
I have suddenly begun to swell, something I was hoping wouldn’t happen until the very end of pregnancy, if ever. My wedding ring is on a chain around my neck. I am chugging water like a crazy person, as that does seem to help quite a bit.
The problem with the water chugging is that I keep needing to leave my clients in the chair at work to head off the the bathroom. I’m a hairstylist, and every second with them counts towards keeping my schedule on time. A few days ago, I left a client 3 times during the space of one haircut. They are very patient with me, but I can’t help but feel guilty. Their time in my chair is THEIR time, not mine.
The other new pregnancy symptom is FATIGUE. Where did it suddenly come from? My third trimester isn’t supposed to start for a few more weeks. I wasn’t expecting to be so knackered so soon. This results in less patience at work, less patience at home. All I want to do is sit around, bake cookies, and read Sookie Stackhouse novels… OH, and plan an nursery for a room that we don’t even have.
As for baby specifics, I really can’t decide where he is sitting. One day I feel him kicking on my right, then my left, then really really high at the top of his home, and then he’s wiggling his butt in the center of it all. He’s really working hard to figure out just where to settle in, which is a relief to me. Every kick and flutter I feel is reassuring. This is happening. He’ll get here. That’s exciting!
More and more, I feel as if I’m playing with my baby. We have a push and pull of playful communication going on that cracks me up. Baby boy B loves being rubbed, pat, and playfully poked. He doesn’t mind being woken up here and there to fool around, either. I’m pretty convinced that he already knows my touch above others, too, because mine is the one he best responds to.
I guess this is the part where I bask in the glow of this baby having his first truly private relationship with me. Of course, I do let Milton have his moment. I think that Baby B has a pretty good grasp of Milton’s voice, and I can help Milton out with the right presses and rubs when it’s time to play “Feel the Pregnant Belly Up.”
Tomorrow we have our 24 week midwife appointment! I’m pretty excited, and am still completely convinced that this pregnancy is low risk and on the right track. I have had a few new experiences in the past few weeks to share, too.
First, I had my first Braxton Hicks contractions the other day. They went on for most of the day, with no rhyme or reason, and then they went away. I realize they are a bit early, but they were triggered by some healthy adult activity, which proceeded a yoga class, so I figured a day of odd uterine tightening was steady for the course.
I also felt my first Baby B hiccups a few days ago! At first I thought that the baby had suddenly developed a magical sense of rhythm and was tapping me with a finger’s touch. On second thought, I realized that my mother’s pride was well meaning but unfounded, because the tapping was obviously hiccups.
Other than that, my nipples have already gone a little rogue. I have proof in spots on my bras at night. This further illustrates my belief that breast feeding will not be a problem for me. It’s really the one thing I am blindly optimistic about. I could prove myself wrong, of course, and that’s fine. I reserve the right to be wrong about anything I predict.
Outside of the whole gratuitous changing of underwear every time I sneeze annoyance, this whole second trimester has been awesome. I wish it could always be this easy! Probably, I’d have 12 babies if that were the case.
This is all I have to report from pregnant land until later.
Walking through the doors of pregnancy and all of it’s unknown factors, Milton and I have had lots of questions and lots of aha moments to answer them. At first, we weren’t even totally comfortable talking about a home birth. At first glance, it didn’t seem like the safe option. One book in the right direction and suddenly we found ourselves on the path of home birth research. This has led to us meeting some pretty amazing people in the Seattle Midwifery community. We feel very cosy at our monthly midwife appointments and like we can call their office with any questions or concerns that we have.
It was at Rainy City Midwifery that we were approached about possibly hiring a doula. At first, it really didn’t feel necessary. Between the 20 books we’ve already read, the 40 books we’re bound to read, the class we’re going to take with The Mother of all Doulas, and the 1,394 people we talk to who give us advice (unsolicited or otherwise), it seems like we could lasso in this whole laboring experience and take it to the moon, right?
Well. Sort of.
The more we started to visualize our birthing experience, and the more we talked to the midwifes at Rainy City, the more we started to think that we should look for someone else to help us on our journey. It’s not that we don’t trust ourselves. It’s certainly not that I don’t trust my body. It’s not that I don’t trust my midwifes to act in my favor and do everything they can to support and protect my family. I have trust in all of these things! It’s more that I am fairly certain that much of what my husband and I learn about pregnancy and labor will fly out the window without a good mediator who has a whole lot of experience with the process of saying hello to babies. I could be in labor for 3 days, after all! No matter how much my husband and I adore each other, he is going to need a break. I am going to need a break. We are going to need encouragement and knowledge to help us along so that fear doesn’t take over the experience of bringing life. There is potentially a long stretch of time between when labor begins and when my midwife arrives when I am going to need a woman who knows what she’s doing to help me out with crazy things that I have never really thought about… like calming to heck down when I feel as if I’m about to break in two, or like breast feeding after the labor is all said and done and the actual taking care of a newborn begins.
I met Cheryl Murfin while I was working at my salon. I was tending to another lady when Cheryl marched right up to my chair and asked which one of us was pregnant. Since both my client and I are pregnant, all we could do was laugh and say “Me!” Turns out, Cheryl is a doula who had heard through salon scuttlebutt that I was a pregnant lady and decided to come around with her card. I immediately took to her direct approach! I love Seattle, but am not native to the Pacific NorthWest and am often a little turned off by the typical north-westerner’s politely standoffish way. This woman came over and told me what she did in 20 words or less! She was practically New York in my book. I made a mental note to ask my midwife if she had any more information on this lady. As it turns out, Lynn at Rainy City knew Cheryl very well. Cheryl was the director of the Seattle Midwifery School and is very tied in to the community here. I decided to call her for an appointment…
We met today and it all felt so comfortable! I feel like she’s the other hand on deck we need for this delivery, which will make the total of people in the house during the birthing a whopping 6 (Milton, me, 1 midwife, 2 midwife students, and our doula)! 7 if you count our baby! Practically a party for our small loft (if it doesn’t sell by the end of February, we’re staying right here, folks). I can’t imagine that this baby will feel anything but love and support when he gets here.
Dear Baby B,
I’ve been laying about during my down time during the last few weeks thinking about how lucky we are to be having you, right now, during this year, in this city, with these friends, and (most of all) with each other.
Your father and I knew shortly after we were married that we wanted our family to grow. We immediately started making the emotional and intellectual preparations so that you could be our reality. We are so ready to have you be a part of our little family. We don’t have all the things you need yet. In fact, we’ve barely started collecting stuff. Luckily, you will be very small when you get here, so you won’t be needing very much. The thing you need most is something we already have in abundance, anyhow.
We have a whole lot of love in this family already. Sometimes I wonder how I will be able to love a person more than I love your father already, and then you kick to let me know that you’re here already, and I feel a sense of protective love for you that trumps the greatest feelings I believed I could have. We are each so fortunate to have this bond. Not every family feels this way, and we work every day to ensure that we don’t take it for granted.
I look forward to the day when you can read this for yourself, understand how much we want each other, and how much we want you to be a part of every moment we’ll share as a family in the future.
Love,
Your Mom
