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[baby-loveblog]

Aurelia just “violently” (as Mauricio puts it) tooted.

Me: wow that one was insane

Mauricio: I thought it was thunder

🤣🤣🤣🤣

[baby-loveblog]

Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies. And be it gash or gold it will not come Again in this identical disguise

-Gwendolyn Brooks

Dear Aurelia,

Last month we lost your fur brother. And I’m including you in this “we” because as much as my heart aches for me and your father, it aches in a different way for you, because you never got to even meet him, you’ll never get to play with him or cuddle with him. You will have stories and photos as I try my best to assemble him in your imagination the way you can for children, so vividly that he becomes something like a memory, but he will still always be just a figment for you. I told him about you so many times, while we set up your room or when he tried to fit into my lap the way he always had despite your ever-growing presence that placed him farther and farther away from the nook under my chin that he fit into so perfectly. He was so good with babies and kids, and I was so excited for him to have you, and then you just missed him. You are ships passing each other. I spent nine months feeling like I was standing ashore, desperately waving you both in, only to watch in horror as his ship sank and I rushed into the water while you surged past me. I alternate between submerged and struggling to come up for air, still wanting to keep you in sight. You’re almost set to disembark, and I have not been ready to come out.

Canelo was the first one who knew about you because he was with me always, including when I took the test. When it took month after month to make you a reality instead of a wistful hope, it was Canelo who I confided in and cried to when I didn’t want to burden your father with my sadness and worries or breathe a word of those struggles to friends or family. When I wished for you, I told him I was sorry we waited so long, and when I learned of you, I told him how much you would love each other. What I didn’t tell him but thought about often was how happy I was to have good news, to have something so beautiful to look forward to right when the future his doctors described felt so bleak. The two of you are entwined in my heart and the separation of him from you before you’re even here has left me feeling broken.

You, my sweet girl, have spent the last nine months marinating in a pool of happiness and sadness and anticipatory grief and joy and worry and excitement and stress. I’ve wished that time would slow down only to wish it would speed up the very next day. I’ve spent the last month wishing it would grind to a halt, having lost Canelo so close to when we will finally meet you. I’ve wondered how on earth to balance the agonizing grief I feel with the onset of the joy you’re no doubt bringing with you. I have suddenly felt unprepared to handle caring for you even though I’ve spent months mentally preparing to care for both of you. I’ve even resented it, and have felt like I’m bracing myself against feeling anything but sad, because it just doesn’t feel right to embrace feeling happy right now, just like it didn’t feel right to only feel sadness when I was so worried about Canelo but also so happy about you. I’ve felt emotionally exhausted and depleted of any nurturing feelings. I’ve felt like a hollowed out shell of who I was, who I want to be. It’s not how I imagined or want to be when we finally meet. Yet here we are. 

You haven’t even made your debut yet and I’m already questioning what to model for you, how honest to be, and I’m figuring out that part of parenting is trying to impart wise words and lessons I know to be true, even if I haven’t quite figured out how to put them into practice. Its perhaps the ultimate fake it til you make it, because faking it can serve as an example of strength and perseverance, even if strong is the last thing I feel and the thought of moving away from the darkness of where I am right now, where his presence lingers so large, into the light of your arrival makes me weep because it feels like leaving him behind.

The biggest lesson of my life, one I am forced to try to learn over and over again, is that worry and sadness have their place in life, but are useless when it comes to preventing the worst from happening. Your father told me again and again to focus on feeling happy that Canelo was still with us. Some days I listened. Some days I didn’t. Part of what I worried so much about, what I imagined over and over again, was what the end would be like for Canelo. I imagined him struggling to breathe, scared and alone in a cage in an emergency clinic. I imagined him alone while we were at work. I prayed it would not happen at all, but if it had to, that it would happen at home, quick and peacefully. But I never had faith that it would. 

And then it did. We were together. It seems silly to say it was sudden, but perhaps naively, I honestly thought we had more time. Then one minute his heart was beating and the next it was stopping. We noticed in time to drop to our knees while your father comforted him and thanked him over and over and I told him we loved him so much. He did not suffer. If he felt pain, it was as short lived as it possibly could have been. It was so sad but so beautiful, everything I would have wanted for him if I could have planned it myself. And then it was over. And in the time since, I’ve thought about the last year, about how completely I devoted myself to Canelo’s care, and I have only one regret - how much time I spent imagining the worst, stressing about it, worrying about it, such valuable time that I could have spent smiling at him instead of crying in his presence. It haunts me and hurts so much that I will never get that time back. And so this lesson begins anew.

I don’t want to think that Canelo was here to teach me anything. I’ve had friends comment on the timing of your arrival and his departure, and it makes me feel sick to my stomach to imagine that any choice I’ve made has had any impact whatsoever on Canelo’s mortality, that this is how such things work. But I can’t deny, nor would I want to, that Canelo has taught me a lot. He taught me how to slow down and get out of my head. He taught me that doing nothing much is an excellent way to spend one’s time. He showcased a desire to make the most of life, to hurry past the inconsequential and unenjoyable and slow down to bask in the interesting and the quiet. I know that no other being in my life will love me as much as he did, with as much loyalty and constant companionship and blind devotion, and I am certain of this without him ever having uttered a single word of affection, a single “I love you.” He didn’t have to. He taught me to pay attention and listen to more than just words. He taught me that I am capable of mothering, of being selfless and warm and devoted to one’s care and happiness. He taught me to be humbled by the responsibility of being an advocate for someone helpless and depending on me. I am a better human than I was because of him. You will never know him and yet you will benefit from his impact on me and your father in ways that we will recognize quietly, with sadness and gratitude. 

As I write this, you are officially ready to make your debut. Your time is now, my precious girl. And Canelo reiterated for me that time is the most precious thing we have. It’s so easy to forget that we have a finite amount of it, and that even when we are cruelly reminded, we still manage to waste even a moment of it. My biggest regrets have been the times I’ve spent marinating myself in what ifs and imagining the worst, and getting caught up in timing and details that become almost laughably unimportant in hindsight. My biggest regret is wasting minutes that have added up to hours that have added up to days that I will never get back on anything other than what’s happening right now or choosing joy and reminding myself in hard times that no feeling is final. I’ve tattooed those words on my arm to serve as a reminder and I still manage to forget. So many things have not gone according to my plans, but I’ve been amazed again and again at how much better things have turned out anyway. My favorite parts of my life so far, the parts I love so completely and with so much reverence that it’s more akin to worship, are the three souls who became the family I chose, who I wished for but couldn’t plan for because you each showed up in your own time. After all the yearning and worry, I find myself thinking that I wouldn’t change a single thing even if I could. Even now, as I feel stunned and so much sadness in the aftermath of losing Canelo, I am grateful for the ending he got, for the final moments we had with him, and am overcome with relief that it wasn’t what I expected and lived through in my mind over and over again. Nothing is ever only one thing.

If you can accept even the things you’d give anything to change for what they are, and find joy in spite of the sadness and anger and grief I’m sorry to say is waiting for you in the world you’re about to enter, you’ll not only be happier for it, you’ll also be taking after your father and this letter will be moot.

But if you take after me, take this from me, from my words instead of my actions because this might be a lifelong lesson for me: Let life surprise you, Aurelia. Let it unfold in front of you, with wonder and grace. Dream big, but don’t focus so intently on what isn’t that you refuse to allow yourself to salvage joy from what is.

I’m struggling hard with this lesson but I’m trying to learn it in real time instead of hindsight. I’m such a sad, excited mess right now. But right now is all we have. I’m finally ready when you are, my golden girl.

Love, Mama

[baby-loveblog]

Happy Mother’s Day

Truth be told, this day has always been a bit heavy for me. It’s a lovely idea to showcase the role of mothers, but it’s a day that shines a spotlight on a missing element for so many people. My relationship with my mother has improved over the last few years, but it was strained for a long time. I wasn’t sure when we should have a child, and then I wasn’t sure if we would be able to. I remember spending this day last year feeling left out of both sides of the equation. I wasn’t a mother, though I was trying to be, and I wasn’t a daughter who is close to her own mother. 

I’ve felt guilty for feeling that way. So many mothers give so much of themselves without asking for much, if anything, in return, and it’s like of course they have to share the one day that’s meant to recognize the humbling, heartbreaking, hard work that is motherhood with those who are struggling with their own desires and circumstances. So, in years past, I’ve sent “happy mothers day” wishes to the women in my life with children and spent the day avoiding social media. I felt that it wasn’t a day that included me, and that was okay because that was my reality. There are 364 others, after all.

But this year, I spent Mother’s Day feeling like a weight was lifted for the first time. I woke up to give Canelo his morning medicine at 7, and then fell back asleep until 1 in the afternoon. Between Canelo’s schedule and how often he needs to go to the bathroom thanks to the diuretics he’s on, and my increasing inability to get comfortable and fall asleep once I’ve woken up, I can’t remember the last time I slept so much in one 24 hour period. It was wonderful. Mauricio surprised me with a moonstone necklace because it’s my favorite of the three birthstones our June baby has to choose from, then took me to pick up a very late breakfast bagel and go through a drive-thru Starbucks. I spent the rest of the afternoon sitting outside on a blanket reading a book with Canelo, giving myself a mani/pedi (the pedi part was no easy feat (ha!) because homegirl can’t bend like she used to, but lord the effort was needed.) 

I spent an hour on the phone with my mother, and we talked about her birth experiences. She told me that she was happy to see me at my surprise shower last weekend, and that she couldn’t get over how happy I looked. “You had this glow and just looked like you were bursting with happiness because you have everything you’ve wanted.”

I’ve thought about that since she said it. On Mother’s Day, of all days. I thought about how full my heart feels because she’s right, right now I do feel like I have pretty much everything I’ve ever wanted, and I have it at the same time. I've spent a lot of time thinking about the scary part of that feeling, about how having what you want just makes you vulnerable because it means you can lose it at any time. 

I thought about why I sometimes find it easier to lean into feeling afraid and sad than I do to embrace feeling joy. It’s not like happiness means that I’ll somehow miss it if something does go awry. It’s not like worry makes it so bad things don’t happen. I thought about the memories and resentment I carry through my life, sometimes without realizing how heavy they actually are until something happens to make me put them down for a second. The desire to protect myself from pain makes it tempting to pick them back up, but all of a sudden, I don’t want to and can’t remember why I thought it was necessary to carry them for so long in the first place.  

I’ve spent the last eight months thinking about what it means to be a good mother. Thanks to Canelo, I’m pretty confident that I have the whole nurturing and putting another’s well-being at the forefront of your every day to do’s down pat. I’m not worried about waking up several times through the night. I’m not worried about figuring out how to make sure everyone’s needs are met. It’s the lighter stuff that I’ve had the hardest time with. It’s the ability to stop babbling about worries and what if’s. It’s being able to stop myself from unloading or getting angry and saying things that don’t need to be said. I’ve struggled the most with just allowing myself to relax.

I take being a wife and being a mother so seriously, more seriously than I’ve ever taken anything else. And sometimes I feel like that’s been the cause of setting a serious tone at home. Even this post, in trying to write about what made this day special, has a serious tone. And I’m not even trying to be serious! 

I’m trying to say that today was a good day because it was a day that was once heavy and felt light because I allowed myself to embrace the goodness of my life right now. It wasn’t a day spent wallowing in what I don’t have or worrying about what I might lose. It was a day spent relaxing and living in the moment. It was a day spent as the kind of mother I’ve spent the last eight months hoping I’m capable of being.  

It was my first happy Mother’s Day. 

[baby-loveblog]

Dear Aurelia,

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write to you for the first time. Truth be told, I thought I would make this a weekly thing starting the day I found out about you. But I was afraid that if I wrote to you too early, it would jinx your very existence, and then I got very distracted with your fur brother, and well, 34 weeks later, here I finally am. With so much I want to tell you and teach you and how ironic that feels when I have so much to learn. I’m letting you know right off the bat, my sweet girl, that your mama doesn’t have all the answers. It’s something you will likely be well aware of by the time you read this, but I think it’s an important thing to be able to admit to yourself and to the people you love. I do try hard to figure them out though, and I hope that will count for something. You have been quite the motivation to speed up that process. I was actually hoping I’d have a lot more figured out by the time you make your debut but, again, we’re at 34 weeks and I’m starting to come to terms with that not happening. Maybe by your first birthday?

Our first letter and I’m already getting ahead of myself. Let me go back and try to relay all of the things I have wanted to say to you for the last eight months.

Aurelia, we are SO excited to meet you. We have been busy setting up your room and making sure we’re as prepared as we can be, and talking about our hopes and dreams for you. We talk about the places we want to take you, the things we want you to experience, the whole world that’s waiting for you and how much bigger it’s seemed since we learned you would be joining our family. 

Last night I said to your father that we can officially say “next month we will have a baby!” and he gave me the biggest smile and held up his hand for a high five. We have been thinking about you and wishing for you for a long time. You are an answered prayer and our dream come true. 

I think a lot of people feel like having a baby right now is a scary thing. So much is unknown about what’s to come and there are so many things to worry about in addition to the regular things to worry about. You are going to be born during the first global pandemic in 100 years. We have a living nightmare for a president. The economy is in serious peril. I’m worried about your grandparents, worried about your fur brother, worried about keeping you safe and happy and healthy. I’m more worried than not worried these days.

And yet, when I feel you move and think about what lies ahead, I feel so much hope. The best part of my week is when I find myself in your room without a purpose other than to enjoy how the sun shines through your windows in the loveliest way, and I touch your books and your crib and your clothes and imagine our world with you in it. I will hum or sing the only two songs that come to mind when I think about you, “...don’t worry about a thing because every little thing is gonna be alright...” and “...I hope you don’t mind that I put down in words how wonderful life is, now you’re in the world...” I don’t feel scared in those moments. I feel calm and content and ready to have you here.

We can’t wait to meet you.

Love, Mama

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Yesterday was the loveliest day. My sister was heading up the planning of what sounded like a fun and lovely baby shower for me before this pandemic hit. She told me she wanted to come over in honor of what would have been and she and a whole group of our family and friends surprised us with an impromptu shower outside our fence. It was the best surprise ever, and I’m still so moved that they all cared to do such a sweet and loving thing for us.

I’ve been so bowled over by the outpouring of gifts that have been arriving almost nonstop at our house because truly, these are scary and uncertain times and I expected that getting set up for the baby, while important to us, would probably be the last thing on people’s minds.  

Before they left, my family’s last surprise was the gift of a brand new Glo Baby. My dad’s sister gave me one the day I was born and I have slept with her my entire life, even after my brother kicked her so hard that her head separated from her body, and rubber banding them back together stopped working because of how worn the cloth was. And now my daughter will have one of her very own. It still makes me weepy to think about.

My baby shower was supposed to be a fun milestone, but thanks to this pandemic, it ended up being more meaningful than I think it would have been otherwise. Funny how that works. We are lucky people and our baby is so loved already.

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I have been completely blown away by the generosity of our family and friends during this pandemic, despite so much uncertainty. We’ve received so many items from our registry over the last couple weeks, when I was feeling pretty confident that without a baby shower, we’d be buying most things ourselves. It’s been such a comfort to feel love from our nearest and dearest even while we’re all isolated.

As the due date creeps closer, I’m trying to resign myself to the fact that I don’t really know what to expect. I’m nervous about so many things. I’m nervous about the prospect of delivering without my husband and will feel so bummed for him if he can’t experience this. And I’m really scared to go through it without him. But I keep reminding myself that I need to be prepared for it and it can be a joyous occasion, no matter what we have to do to get through it. An intense, painful, possibly lonely, anxiety-inducing occasion, even without a pandemic, but I’ve heard there is joy sprinkled in there too. But I’m still hoping for the best. We still have at least six weeks to go, and a lot can change by then.

Canelo has had a rough couple weeks due to adjustments to his medication, and I’m starting to feel nervous about him feeling anxious with us away and his health taking a sudden turn for the worse, and about me not being there to monitor him closely. It won’t be the first time we’ve left him, and I’m SO happy my sister is able to come stay with him because he loves her and she’s aware of his issues, but it will be the first time we’ve left him overnight since he was diagnosed and started such an intense medical regimen.

I also feel bad for being so preoccupied with worries about him as I’m preparing for the birth of my first child, because I feel like its how I’ve spent most of this pregnancy and I owe it to her to give her some undivided attention, but I’ve always felt responsible for his wellbeing like I imagine I will for my child, and my greatest hope right now for this whole experience is that all goes well and we can leave the hospital within 24 hours and reunite, healthy, safe, and together.

I think it’s just hitting me that our families won’t be able to meet the baby for weeks, if not months, and that makes me really sad.

I’m also starting to get really excited to meet our daughter and bring her home. The nursery is almost ready, we’re setting up places for her to hang out comfortably in each room where we spend our time, and she’s been kicking up a storm lately, so it seems like she’s getting excited too.

[baby-loveblog]

Pregnancy in the time of corona

It is a very strange time to be pregnant. 

The cons of pregnancy during a pandemic:

1. All of the things I thought I was going to get to do in the third trimester are pretty much off the table. No baby shower. No maternity photos. No in-person childbirth and baby classes. No hospital tour. Telehealth appointments. I’m not letting myself think about these things too much, because there isn’t anything I can do and I don’t want to be sad, but it’s a bummer.

2. It’s pretty overwhelming to experience this for the first time remotely. I bought a blood pressure cuff and am trying to keep a close eye on anything that could be even slightly amiss, but I’m really nervous I’m going to overlook something that my midwives could notice in person. But I’m also incredibly nervous about going in for visits and risk catching the virus. It’s a pretty awful catch-22.

3. Since Canelo’s diagnosis last year, I’ve spent a LOT of time at home. I actually don’t mind it and feel like it served as sort of a warmup for being quarantined, but feeling isolated from my family and friends when I was looking forward to soaking up time with them pre-new chapter is kind of a bummer.

The pros of pregnancy during a pandemic:

1. I’m getting so much quality time with my two boys and I’m soaking it up like a sponge. I held a deep-seated desire to spend more time at home with Canelo, and felt awful spending nine hours a day away from him, and while I feel horribly guilty for even thinking this way, especially because both M and I are SO lucky to be able to work from home, I can’t help but feel grateful for all of this extra time that I’m getting with both Canelo and M. 

2. I will get either 9 weeks or 12 weeks of paid leave from my job, depending on when I start maternity leave, and I plan to take 16-18 weeks total, which means I need to use PTO that I’ve saved to make up the difference. It still won’t be enough, so I’ll have to take some of that time without pay. We’ve been planning for it, but working remotely and telehealth has made it possible to balance scheduling a 30 minute appointment during lunch or after working without having to factor in commute time and use PTO, allowing me to still save as much of it as I can. 

3. It’s been really nice to wake up 90 minutes later than usual, and to be able to lay down or take a nap or sit outside during my lunch hour, and make meals at home and eat with M. Basically, it just allows me to sleep more and be more comfortable during the day, which isn’t a bad thing.

Basically, it’s not something I would have chosen, but I’m trying to make the best of it.

[baby-loveblog]

Aw, my widdle care bear 😭♥️

[baby-loveblog]

Checking in to say that I feel enormous. I just experienced shortness of breath that usually comes from attempting to run for longer than a minute just from laying down. My lower back is killing me, not just because of pregnancy but because I wounded my tailbone falling down a couple steps last weekend, and I spent way too much time on my feet today. A massage from my sweet husband helped, but only a little. I just asked to pause the show we’re watching and sent him upstairs to get me ice water, a popsicle, and oil to rub on my belly because it feels like it’s stretching as the seconds go by. I am seven months along and feel kind of pathetic and nervous of what the next two months will bring. I miss laying on my back and being able to crack it more than I miss my beloved cheap pink champagne, and that’s saying something. But I’m excited to be in the home stretch and we’re both getting so excited to meet our girl ♥️

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The other night I put chicken breasts on the stove to boil for Canelo and went downstairs and forgot about them. Two hours later, the smoke detectors went off and Mauricio and I rushed to the kitchen to find smoke all over the entire floor of our house. Thankfully it wasn’t an actual fire, the water in the pot had completely evaporated and the chicken was burning.

The only real damage has been an awful lingering smoke smell, and out of fear that we’re all breathing toxic fumes, I spent the afternoon cleaning every nook and cranny of the first floor of the house. I don’t think any house has ever been as thoroughly cleaned. It satisfied my ever-growing need to nest something fierce. But I’m still thinking about how such a dumb mistake could so easily have caused us to lose everything we own and each other.

Running up the stairs was one of the scariest moments I can remember. I knew immediately that it was the chicken and thought for sure the kitchen in our beautiful house that we took so long to buy was going to be ablaze. Mauricio has gone to bed about an hour earlier and I was terrified that he was going to be trapped upstairs if fire had spread that far. I’ve had so many moments since that moment feeling grateful beyond belief that it wasn’t so much worse, because it really could have been. Once I shut off the burner and dumped the pot of chicken in the sink, and we opened all the windows and doors, our eyes met and we rushed to each other and hugged each other so tightly. There’s nothing quite like thinking your house is burning down to make you grateful for all that you have and you’re all alive and well.

I’m also thinking about how ridiculous it would be if during a global pandemic, our deaths were caused not by COVID-19, not even by a fire caused by my affinity for candles that Mauricio has warned me about, but by a fire caused by boiling chicken. Lesson learned. Mauricio can cook from now on.

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Definitely the most random comparison yet. #thirdtrimester

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I’m already having a hard time sleeping and have heard the third trimester and maternity leave can provide chunks of time to partake in fun activities like binge-watching and catching up on reading and podcasts. I’m thinking of other things that might be fun to partake in. I’ve always been interested in taking up knitting or cross-stitch. so I’m browsing kits on Etsy. This is my current favorite.

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“Most importantly, she explained the reason it took me so long to get pregnant in the first place was because I “looked really stressed.” I ended up conceiving via IVF, but that was before I was in Wendy’s care. Next time, I’ll try to breathe deeply instead.

I was amazed that, without an ultrasound, Wendy was able to determine the sex of my unborn baby. As soon as she saw acne forming around my jawline, she knew I was having a girl. “They steal your prettiness,” she explained and diagnosed me as “ugly now.” I’d have never known!”

Perfection.

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I haven’t felt the baby move too much yet, just flutters and a strange popcorn popping sensation here and there, but this morning while driving to work, I was playing this song pretty loud and singing and swaying, and during the rumbling beats of the chorus, I felt her move so much that it almost felt like she was dancing. Our first dance together! It was one of the best, most emotional moments of my life. 

[baby-loveblog]

I’m a little late posting this, but we saw our baby girl at her anatomy scan at 20 weeks and I cannot believe how much she looks like a baby now! I stuck the ultrasound photos on the fridge (which has served as an excellent reminder to drink more water) and I have stared at her at least 20 times a day since then. 

I was a bit anxious going into the scan and made the mistake of watching a bunch of videos of women posting the scary results they heard about at theirs. The doctor confirmed that she’s healthy and on track and so far, so good. Such a relief.

Not much else is new. Work has been a big source of stress for the last several months and to say I am literally (134!) counting the days until my maternity leave is an understatement. I downloaded a meditation app to help me relax when I get home. I’ve been plodding around, examining each room, trying to figure out how to make our home a peaceful, joy-filled sanctuary. I’ve been trying to read more, and stretch, and take part in activities that quiet my brain. And we switched health insurance providers, so I am eagerly looking into a chiropractor to help me sleep more comfortably and finding a therapist and anything else that falls under “self-care.” 

I forget how important it is to make time to take care of yourself. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the role that women often play in their marriage and family, and I’m definitely guilty of setting my needs aside for the sake of making sure the needs and wants of my husband and dog are met first. Adding a baby to that list seems almost insurmountable at times. I feel bad writing that out because this next chapter is one that we are going into purposely and wholeheartedly, but I sometimes I look at all of the stuff on my to-do list that I’m already not getting to and how little energy I have at times (especially during winter, thank you, SAD) and I wonder how the heck I’m going to do this without losing it. Keeping in mind that other women make it work helps a little. But trying to find ways to simplify or streamline as I can and literally forcing myself to do things I should do to make myself feel better seems like it will be instrumental in not feeling like a frazzled, stress-ball all the time. 

I’m just glad I have 134 days to figure all this out. And three pretty darn lovely reasons to try <3

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It’s called thinking ahead.

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My darling friend Anna gifted me this book, chock full of “what-if” scenarios and solutions for raising a baby into a child. It’s a perfect salve for my overactive imagination and I will try to follow her advice to read things as they come up rather than all at once. Thank you, Anya! ♥️