It is *almost* zipped

 

It turns out boobs shrink and ribs grow. Life's little surprises.

Love to the Fourth Power

Four years ago, this guy stood in a garden and married me. I couldn't be more grateful.

I love him more with every year.

I've said it on more than one occasion. My iPod is magical. Placed on shuffle, it never fails to enlighten me.

This morning, it shuffled only to two songs on my short drive to work, two songs that I rarely ever hear.

You Found Me by Kelly Clarkson

You found me when no one else was looking
How did you know just where I would be?
You broke through all of my confusion
The ups and the downs and you still didn't leave
I guess that you saw what nobody could see
You found me

February Song by Josh Groban

Morning is waking up
And sometimes it's more than just enough
When all that you need to love
Is in front of your eyes
It's in front of your eyes

14 weeks anniversary

Andy came up with a brilliant idea for a novelty book we should write: Things You Never Expected to Hear Your Spouse Say... Until You Had a Baby. It could be a whole series -- ...Until You Had a Toddler, ...Until You Had Kids, ...Until You Had Teenagers...

I think what I said that prompted the idea was (queue baby voice), "Do you like my finger?"

Yesterday, Andy said that he had never known I had this side to my personality -- I think he was talking about the googly-eyed, silly, baby-talking mommy side -- especially when we were first getting to know each other, when the idea of having children was as far from my brain as space travel.

This week, Andy and I celebrated three years of marriage. On our first anniversary, I initially began to want to start a family. On our second anniversary, we lost our first pregnancy. On the third, we've got a baby who's more amazing than either of us could ever have imagined. I never knew a baby could be so happy and fun, never knew I could love so much.

When our baby cries in his sleep, I touch his soft hair and tell him, "Mumma's here." And whenever I do that, I feel a little stunned at how quickly the words come out, and how much they mean.

Is there a way to feel more balanced between being a mother and being a wife? Am I supposed to find one? Are there times when I'm so absorbed with being Fletcher's mother that I'm neglecting everything and everyone else? If actions speak louder than words, what exactly am I saying?

To the man who has been with me almost ten years... My partner, who shared vows with me in a garden three years ago. Whose humor keeps me going, whose good sense I admire, whose loyalty and depth and good nature make this life we're building so easy to enjoy. I love you.

CD5 repression

Andy surprised me on our anniversary by taking me to the movie theater. He expected me to choose The Time Traveler's Wife, but I still don't feel up to watching a movie that I know will feature the romantic love story complete with child. So I chose Inglorious Basterds, and loved it. Very different, very funny yet gory, very Quentin Tarantino.

Today feels a lot more bearable to me. I am coming back. The dominant feelings now are impatience tempered with disappointment, and I can live with that. I've found a corner where I can put the pain and forget about it for longer stretches of time, as long as I'm not watching romantic baby comedies and the like.

It reminds of New Moon, when Bella avoids all things that remind her of what she lost, in order to stay numb.

I am relieved that my petty anger is also gone. Though there is still jealousy, it is small and more natural. All in all, it feels like a better day. Empty, but not desolate.

A good friend that I've had since childhood and her husband recently welcomed a second baby girl to the family, and I feel joy and relief that baby and mother are both healthy now (despite a scary third trimester). No one deserves it more, and I can't wait to meet her!

This is one of my favorite quotes from New Moon by Stephenie Meyer.

I was like a lost moon -- my planet destroyed in some cataclysmic, disaster-movie scenario of desolation -- that continued, nevertheless, to circle in a tight little orbit around the empty space left behind, ignoring the laws of gravity.

CD4 guilt

I met with my regular doctor, who said everything looks good and normal and fine. Except that maybe I should eat some ice cream because I'm "on the slender side" and some extra saturated fat and calories might convince my body that it has what it needs to take care of a baby.

?

I'm trying to stop myself from going down the I-wasn't-eating-right-so-it's-my-fault path. But I don't know how. Could my baby have survived if I hadn't been keeping my calories low? I'd been obsessed with being healthy, but also with staying thin. Did my vanity do this?

I can't change it. I can't bring back that life that had been so real, if only to me. Now there is nothing in me to take care of or protect or worry about. There's just nothing. And now I'm supposed to eat ice cream? It seems comical, but I'll do anything.

The doctor said that sometimes a miscarriage is the kickstart a body needs for a successful pregnancy. And now I have the name of the obstetrician I'm to see if we experience another miscarriage.

Another miscarriage feels almost... likely. Am I, at heart, a pessimist? Does failure just seem more real and logical to me now, because it is what I know? Will I survive it?

Still, my impatience for the next step is growing growing growing.

Today is my second wedding anniversary. I love you, hubby. Even without this baby, my world carries on because I have you.

From "Last of Days" by A Fine Frenzy.

I built myself a castle on the beach
Watching as it slid into the sea

The world carries on without you
But nothing remains the same

I'll be lost without you
Until the last of days