In praise of self-determination

I know I harp on about this a lot, but yesterday I had an experience that reminded me how glad I am that my reproductive future is entirely in my hands.  Hung out with some couples for a birthday get together and had a lovely time.  One of the couples didn’t know about me yet, so I got to share that and as usual they were psyched for me.

Two of the couples there don’t have kids yet, one because they are planning to do it later, and the other because the woman just doesn’t want to and the guy is therefore forced to go along with it.  I had always assumed this couple was mutually agreed on not having children and had been since before they married some ten years ago…but apparently the husband really wants kids, and actually married the wife on the assumption that she’d be a great mom.  Whether or not this was discussed or just assumed I don’t know; but it breaks my heart to see them now, knowing what I know.  Everyone around them is having kids, even me, for chrissakes, and it must drive them both nuts to have the whole “kid” issue shoved in their faces every time they want to see friends.  It must be terrible to be a married couple and be constantly asked, “so when are you guys having kids?”  I understand now how inappropriate those kinds of questions are, but most people don’t.  I’ve known them for easily a decade and never felt comfortable asking this.  One of the many joys of being a slightly older single chick is nobody (except maybe nosy older aunts or grandmothers, and I never had ones like that), but nobody, asks when you’re having kids.  Everyone just assumes you’ve settled into spinsterhood.  Surprise!!!

The other couple the woman is SO READY and the husband is SO NOT.  He told me in confidence he didn’t want kids ever- but I know they will end up having kids (fertility gods allowing) because he knows he pretty much has to.  The problem is, she’s five years older – turning 35 in the spring – and he’s only 30, which honestly in guy years is like 18.  He is kind of young for it.  I told him recently I wish their ages were reversed – that would buy her more time, and he’d be that much closer to warming up to the idea.  I don’t know what goes on with them in private, but I can imagine every time another one of her friends gets knocked up she must put the screws on him, even if in a subtle way.  Hell, I know I would!  It’s only natural.  I know the panic I started to feel at 35 thinking I may never have children, and I wasn’t even in a relationship where I could say, “hey, let’s do it!”

I told the friend I carpooled with on the way home that not once during this entire process did I wish I had a partner.  Not during conception, not during the miscarriage, not in the sickness phase, not now.  Why?  Well, I get to share the good times with the people who care about me and hide the bad stuff if I need to.  I get to lie on the floor all day if it feels good and not feel like I’m being a drama queen or I should really get up and make dinner before he gets home.  I don’t have to worry about someone else’s mixed feelings, that he’s not as excited as I am or doesn’t feel connected to the baby or is acting out because he feels like his youth is slipping away.  I’m sure there are many advantages to having a husband involved, sharing this experience with someone who’s equally invested and all that.  But luckily you don’t know what you’re missing when you’ve never experienced it.  I think having had a baby with a (good) partner once and then doing it alone later would probably be hard.  But for me this is all just normal.  Yes, I have to haul that 25 lb bag of chicken feed up the stairs.  Yes, I’m in the ultrasound room alone and share the moment only with medical professionals.  But in my mind that’s what pregnancy is – a solitary experience.  And by “solitary” I mean “special”.

I’m just delighted that I don’t have to consult with anyone about this stuff.  I mean, as you know baby #2 is a constant thought for me (irrational, yes, but there it is).  And I change my mind about baby #2 on a pretty much daily basis.  But I love that it’s my decision alone.  When the time comes I can make my peace with saying, “ahhh…I’ll pass,” or instead, “you know what?  I’m going to give it a shot.”  And I don’t have to decide anything now, or even a year from now.  I can just take that decision as it comes and not have to feel pressured by anyone but me.  That’s pretty great.

Radio Baby

My Doppler arrived yesterday.  It was amazingly simple to use.  Within about 30 seconds I had it out of the box, juiced up, and was listening to the baby’s heartbeat which sounded suspiciously like the sounds the pods made in the 70s remake of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.  But there it was.  Baby alive & kicking.  I have to say that was the best $50 I’ve ever spent.

Just used it again now.  It’s funny, I feel kind of guilty using it, like I’m cheating or something.  And I find myself asking, “don’t you want to save it for later?” like I have to pay by the use or something.  I mean, barring replacement of batteries and gel, I could sit and listen to it all day if I wanted to, why not?  The last two days the baby has been on the left side, low in my belly.  Which is funny when I still have all these achy/pully sensations on the right side, so psychologically I always think the baby is there, when he/she’s not.  Also it’s hard to get a proper reading on heartbeat rate – it goes up and down from about 120 to 165 or so and never really seems to settle, but I know this is normal and not a reflection of the actual heartbeat rate, just the machine trying to get a reading.  The sound meter I use for my dance contests does the same thing.  Boy I wish they had in-home ultrasounds.  Wouldn’t that be fun?  It would be Baby TV all day around here.  My favorite show’s on!  And no commercials!

I am officially an avocado this week.  How an avocado is bigger than a navel orange I don’t know…but the whole fruit thing is kind of fun so I just go with it.  Had pretty bad nausea yesterday which prohibited me from going out dancing, but I did manage dinner with my Mom Guru friend.  She said she thought I’d be an excellent candidate for Hypno Babies, so I think I will try it.  At this stage in the game, though, I’m still thinking drugs.  Maybe I’ll get over that as I do more research.  I mean, I’ve watched The Business of Being Born, I feel pretty well informed on the issues…but then I read people’s personal stories about childbirth and so many women went natural for #1 and then went with the epidural for #2, which makes me question how great natural childbirth really is.  I mean, you can’t tell me tons of babies are damaged by birthing pain meds – maybe the occasional horror story, but for the most part everyone turns out just fine, and the mothers suffer less.  And as I always say, I’m old and I want to be comfortable.  If it doesn’t hurt the baby and may even allow me to relax, rest, and dilate some more, then what’s the harm?  But I’m still willing to look at all angles.  I do have some time for this, thank goodness.  But I refuse to be guilted into putting myself through horrendous pain just because a bunch of hippies want me to. 

Made an appointment with a Kaiser midwife that a couple of friends used and just loved.  I was encouraged because the nurse on the phone who made the appointment just gushed – “she’s wonderful,” she said, “she birthed both of my babies.  You’re going to love her.”  Sold!  So I still keep my next two appointments with the ob – one in about two weeks, and the gender scan early November.  Still not sure what is the etiquette as far as “breaking up” with the ob – do I not see him anymore?  Do I see them both?  After the ob appointment they’ll want to make more appointments, I’m sure – do I just go along with it like, “sure, I’d love to do coffee next week,” or do I tell them then I’m switching to someone else?  Or does that not apply because I’m supposed to see them concurrently?  So many questions. 

My friend also told me not to leave too much to the 3^rd trimester.  Not because of physical issues, but mental issues.  She said I’ll have a lot on my mind and it will feel better to have everything in place (ie, the nursery) by then, when I’ll be too busy thinking about birth and taking classes, etc.  Good point.  So maybe I can set a goal for myself to get as much done as I can before the end of the year. 

I also am having serious second thoughts about baby #2.  I realize it’s totally ridiculous to be thinking about this at all, but it’s constantly on my mind.  And it makes me sad when I think if I were just a few years younger and/or married it wouldn’t even be an issue – but being single and on the edge of 40 makes it all the more urgent.  Mainly I just don’t think I could survive those three months of crushing nausea and have to take care of a toddler.  I think it would be totally impossible without round-the-clock help which I couldn’t get.  So it comes down to, do I rob my first born of my full attention and capacity to provide him/her with the lifetime gift of a sibling, or do I put all my love and focus on one child and just be happy with that?  It’s a real conundrum.  In the end it will probably be decided for me, though, as things often are.  I may get into this one’s life and think, “oh, hell no could I handle two,” and that’ll be it.  Or I’ll try for #2 but never get pregnant again (a distinct possibility) or just not be able to afford to even try.  Still that drive is there.  I truly believe we’re all wired for two kids even though it’s not logical – it’s the biological need to provide a replacement for both parents.  In an ideal world I’d have two lovely children.  But it just may not be in the cards for me, and I’m ok with that.  I’m extremely grateful that I get to have one, believe me. 

The In-Between

Thursday I hit fifteen weeks.  This seems incomprehensible to me.  I know I say this all the time, but it’s true.  So I am officially in the “sweet spot” of pregnancy – the second trimester, the holy grail, as it were.  I’m no longer constantly sick, which is awesome, but not uncomfortable like I will be later.  In fact at the moment I’m not really much of anything.

Been having weird panicky thoughts lately because I just plain don’t feel pregnant – and I remember how a friend of mine who had a few miscarriages said she knew because she just one minute “didn’t feel pregnant” anymore.  I think though this is a normal reaction to the cessation of first trimester symptoms – again, my March 2012 WTE board is full of women freaking out because they’re not constantly vomiting anymore.  I was so used to being constantly sick that not being is worrying me.  Which is so dumb because I still don’t feel GOOD, by any means – there’s still that slight film of nausea all the time, and fatigue, and sore boobs, and weird reactions to food (things tasting weird, being all into something one minute and being totally sick of it the next, never knowing if I’m actually hungry or not because the normal cues are all turned upside down).  My abdomen has weird stretchy feelings going on (I often feel like I’ve just done a bunch of sit ups) and I always have a bit of a belly.  So, as they say in the Ragut commercial, “it’s in there”.  But my worry has prompted me to make a decision – I ordered a Doppler to listen to the baby’s heartbeat whenever I feel like it.  It was only $50 and should be here any day.  At first I didn’t want to get one because I figured NOT being able to hear the heartbeat would panic me worse, but at this late stage that should no longer be an issue, and I think it would do wonders for my peace of mind to be able to check in occasionally.  I won’t have another ultrasound for about a month, so the idea of sitting around here worrying all that time really doesn’t appeal to me.  I just need to know what’s going on in there.

Sometimes the six months until delivery seems like an eternity, sometimes it feels like it’s all happening way too fast.  All the things I have to learn, the stuff I have to get, the preparations I have to make, the decisions about every little thing, are totally overwhelming to me.  I keep hoping my third trimester is when I can really start kicking ass and doing all of those things…but that’s coming up mighty fast, and what if I’m too uncomfortable to do that stuff then?  Shouldn’t I be doing some of it now, when I’m still physically able?  My third trimester is also a time of a huge amount of tax work on my part (as is Jan – March of every year for me), and launching my event registration for next year, and making sure the event is set in stone.  So, there’s a lot to do during that time period, especially getting ahead of myself so that April/May/June can be spent just dealing with being a new mother.  I worry about March, especially, that last month – what if I’m totally incapacitated?  What if I can’t put on shoes, bathe myself properly, cook or buy groceries?  What if I can’t walk the dog or get up and down the three flights of stairs to my house?  Is it that bad?  I’ve known lots of nine months pregnant women and they seemed to manage all right, even working right up to their due dates.  I have this image of myself as this huge manatee-like creature with little useless flapping limbs and a giant unwieldy body.  Yet I’ve never known a pregnant woman to be like this.  Why would I assume that would be me?  I guess I’m just flipping out.

I’d love to blame all this neurosis on pregnancy hormones, but no, I’m always like this.  You don’t even want to know the kinds of things I’ve been writing in my private journal lately.  It ain’t pretty.  You’re getting the sanitized version if you can believe that.

In other news I will say though that as of right now I have no fears about labor.  I spent a lifetime being terrified of giving birth, and now that I’m just months away from that reality, I have to say it doesn’t really bother me.  After all, nearly all women do it, and many more than once.  I expect nothing, good or bad.  I expect a lot of pain, a lot of unpleasantness, and my body to be a hideous mess for weeks or months.  I expect it not to go the way I plan.  I expect to be disappointed that it wasn’t some religious experience and was just plain painful.  And that’s ok, because at least it’s temporary. A day or two and it’s over and you have your precious child forever.  Will it be worth it?  Absolutely. 

I'm not your sex object...punk

Been noticing an interesting phenomenon lately.  I find that after years of conditioning, I am finally not caring when good looking, interesting men are around me.  Remember when we were in grade school and went through that whole “is he looking at me?” thing, and this became the blueprint for all of our male/female interactions from that point on?  How we somehow learned to subtly flirt, to be “aware” of this person’s presence across a room like a heat seeking missile, to make eye contact, to smile, to use our body language to let the person know we’re interested, and then thrill when we see that person exhibiting interest in us?  Remember that fun mating dance?  The one that usually resulted in nothing but on rare occasion was actually the start of a relationship?  That one?  Well, yeah, that dance is officially over for me.  And let me tell you, it feels great.

It actually has been kind of ending for a while – ever since entering my late thirties I started to get this feeling like I was sick of having to parade around like a piece of meat to get some man’s attention; it just seemed pathetic and, well, beneath me.  Now I know every romantic comedy since the beginning of time involves a woman with just this take on life – “I’m smart, I don’t have to wear short skirts and flip my hair to get a man,” – and then, surprise!  It turns out you DO have to do those things to “get a man”, and she does, and it works.  However, let me remind you for the millionth time that romantic comedies are completely full of shit.  So some years ago I started covering up.  This isn’t to say I’m some frump and I have no pride in my appearance – it just means I don’t feel the need to be a sex object. 

Then once I came upon this whole single mother thing last fall it really started to change me – not needing a man to knock you up suddenly means you don’t have that radar up every time you leave the house.  I don’t always have to be on the lookout for that (hopefully) single, (hopefully) straight aging hipster guy who just might be emotionally healthy enough for an actual relationship (this guy doesn’t exist, by the way).  I truly believe that coming upon a plan to have my own children regardless of relationship status changed the chemistry of my brain and made me behave differently in public.  Not that I was ever a flirt or a blatant chaser of men (well, not since I was very, very young).  But there was always that drive to make eye contact, to get someone’s attention, to spark something.  Every person alive has this; it’s what makes us human.  But you know what?  When it’s useless to you you start to see it for what it really is – just an ancient, knee-jerk “I need to procreate NOW” chemical reaction from our caveman days.  And in my current status this is especially pointless.

Over the weekend I found myself starting up that little “is he looking at me?” dance and then had to catch myself.  You’re pregnant, for chrissakes!  Not to mention ten years older than this guy, and he’s no doubt in a relationship, and lives in another country, and would never be interested in you in a million, billion years.  I’m almost 40 years old and carrying a stranger’s baby.  And I’m wondering if some young hot guy is looking at me.  Seriously?  Seriously.  I just had to laugh at myself.  Old habits die hard, I guess.  But the good news is they are dying.

Many times since last November I’ve caught myself at Trader Joe’s or whatever on the lookout for good looking guys and have to remind myself, what the heck are you doing?  They’re NOT looking at you, trust me.  They don’t care.  And sure enough their wife or girlfriend comes around the corner with a stroller. 

And it’s a relief to be out of that dance.  It’s a relief to not have to present myself in a certain way in the hopes of achieving some kind of attention that I’m not going to get.  Let’s face it, that stuff is a young girl’s game.  Pregnant or not it would be over for me by now anyway.  I know a couple of older women who still prance around like young girls and it makes me cringe.  It’s not so much the clothing or the youthful approach to life – I mean, do what you want – but the seeking of male approval that turns my stomach.

I think this is a lot of the reason that at the moment I have no fear about my body changing.  I mean I have no intention of “letting myself go” or losing all personal pride and dignity, but I don’t really care if I don’t look so great for a while.  I don’t have to keep some man sexually interested in me, so who cares?  My kid is going to love me no matter what size I am.  I’m not here for the visual pleasure of men, screw ‘em.  My experience has been 75% of them are impotent anyway from years of jerking off to internet porn.

One of my favorite comics, Louis CK, does a bit about being old and fat and married and what a relief it is that he doesn’t have to suck in his gut anymore when cute women walk by.  He says now he can just mentally give them the finger and think, “f- you, you can go sleep with some other guy, I can go home and jerk off to you later and probably have a better time.”  I think that pretty much sums it up.