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Posts Tagged ‘pregnancy’

On August 3rd, my friend D. gave birth to healthy and beautiful twin boys.  She carried them to 34 weeks, defying the odds with each passing day.  Her pregnancy was high risk (extremely high risk), which is still putting it mildly.  High risk for the babies, ‘course, and high risk for my friend.  I can tell her now that I was terrified for her throughout.  Spending weeks early on seeing her name on my caller ID and thinking “Oh no.”  Then, relieved to hear her tired but still strong voice.  She held on.  They held on.  The three of them a daily miracle.   I’m so proud of her.  Of the babies.  Of her husband who, no doubt, felt the same struggles and worries I felt only about 9 million times more strongly and 10 million times more often.   And of her beautiful 3-year-old daughter, who thought Mommy ate too many strawberries and got a big tummy.  They’re a big ole’ family now.  A party of five.   Congratulations, D.  You are, without a doubt, the strongest, kick-a** Mommy I know.  I love you.  Can’t wait to hold the little men.

__________

Also on August 3rd, my friend E. gave birth to a beautiful new baby.  (I mentioned her pregnancy in an earlier post.) While E had, by most accounts, a very “normal” pregnancy, she was never all that comfortable with the idea of another (holy sh*t) person living inside her body.  A masseuse, an athlete, an active Montana girl, E. has always (well…almost always. *wink*) taken care of and been in tune with her own body and its rhythms.  And, for roughly nine months, there was a little pirate aboard the ship.   A welcomed pirate.  But, a pirate nonetheless.  I’m sure she was happy about the slightly early eviction.

It wasn’t that long ago that E.’s father lost a hard-fought battle with cancer.   The loss was, of course, terrible for her.   Her father was a funny, kind and good man and, while the physical distance between them (Montana to Vermont) may have been great the emotional distance was not.   I imagine that when E. learned she was pregnant, she felt her father’s absence ten-fold.  And thought of him often throughout.

E. had a baby boy.   And that beautiful little baby boy carries his grandfather’s middle name with pride.

A Circle of Life

Congratulations, E.  I suppose, being a boy and all, it means we’ll just have to teach him all the words to the Billy Joel Glass Houses album rather than the show tunes from Annie?   Right?   xoxo, Lucy

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Bob Dylan had it right about the times, man.  Those of you not directly involved in parenting young children in the 2010 era might be surprised to learn a few things.  For instance, did you know:

1) No more prizes in cereal boxes.  Oh, the injustice!  Prizes in cereal boxes were such a fabulous manufacturer idea.  My mother could talk me right into Oat Granola Barley Bits if it meant I was going to get a pink plastic sparkle ring when I reached the bottom.   Turns out the prizes choked a few small children and, poof, they were gone!  Unfair, I say.  How is one to talk a five-year old into grabbing some Raisin Bran™ when things like Eggo Waffle Crisp™ beckon them from the shelves with smiling yellow bears and images of warm syrup on the box front?   No self-respecting child will be lured in by a metal scoop with overflowing raisins.   Where’s the Silly Putty™ egg in the box?!

2) Speaking of Silly Putty.  I generally hate Silly Putty.  It’s along the same lines as Play-doh™ as far as its messiness to pleasure ratio.   The scales tip too far in the wrong direction.  Know what it’s made of?  Silicone and (originally) particles of boric acid.  They’re like little toxic balls of breasts — “Silly Slutty” (couldn’t resist).  Anyway, what do you recall as the coolest thing about Silly Putty?  The image lifting, right?  The fact that you could press it against a comic strip and then bend and pull the putty, morphing Snoopy into a wiener dog before your very eyes.  Well, since the invention of that pesky printing press you can’t do that anymore.  For some reason, according to the Silly Putty website, the Wall Street Journal still works, though.  Which is weird.

3) Tivo / DVR.  So, elder generation parents, do you know that we parents in the technology driven world of 2010 can record television shows without a Betamax (remember the Betamax)?  Without a VCR?  Without those clunky tapes?  Yup, we can.  Right there in our tv.  What this means, however, is that, once recorded, our children’s shows can be on at any time of day.  And they are wise to this.  If Big Brother can pad out of his room at 7 am and turn on Wow, Wow, Wubbzy so that Mom can catch another 15 minutes of sleep before Little Brother rises, you can bet he knows Wubbzy’s in there later in the day.   Remember the days of “Sorry, your shows aren’t on right now.  Mom and Dad are watching the news”?   Gone.   They’re onto us.  Live by the TiVo, die by the TiVo.

4) Car seats are a total pain in the a** now.  I really think it’s possible  that if my parents used a car seat at all they stopped using it once I was old enough to sit up unassisted.  (I’d like some clarification on this, Mom)   Today, you can regularly see kids walking over to their car, swinging opening the door of a gigantic Suburban and extending long, strong legs and arms to deftly climb aboard.  Then they climb into a booster seat and strap themselves in.  The law in Massachusetts states they need to be in a special seat until they reach 8 years of age.  In New Jersey they have to be eight and eighty-pounds which just seems crazy.  As the mother of a bean pole, I can tell you that if we lived in New Jersey (which we will not.  ever.) Big Brother might well be enjoying a roadie in his booster seat before he tops 80 lbs.  I wonder if my mother’s right arm shooting out from the driver’s seat over my chest in the passenger seat at any sign of trouble would have qualified as a make-shift seatbelt?  She still does this, by the way.

Revised pregnancy rules would be a chapter in itself.   We were expected to abstain from smoking, drinking alcohol or eating pretty much anything that actually tastes good while we were pregnant.   What a total buzz kill (kidding, of course).  But, still I’m pretty sure my Mom’s water broke over a vodka tonic and a couple of oysters.   And look how awesome I turned out.

Heh heh heh.

Video is a little loud, fyi…

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I recently learned that my matron-of-honor was pregnant when I read about it on Facebook.   And, I was really, really happy for her.  But, I gotta say, reading about it like that before I had heard it from her just hit me like a ton of bricks.

She was my matron-of-honor when I married in 2002 (she is since divorced and happily remarried) but, more importantly she had been my friend (has been my friend) since we were little girls.  She was that friend who, while we never went to the same school and often went long stretches of time without seeing each other, I just always felt was to be counted as my lifetime best friend.  One of those people who, while the day-to-day updates wouldn’t be shared, the big life events would always inspire us to connect.

Unfortunately, the big life events of late (until the pregnancy) have been sad ones.  My mother’s aneurysms, the death of her father and then her uncle.   But, we found each other.  And found comfort.  In each others voices and, when in the same place, each others hugs.

To be fair, she sent me an email sharing her baby news after her very first OB appointment.  Somehow, I missed it.  Never saw the email and, therefore, never replied.  She assumed I was just too busy with my own life and figured that, while I probably meant to write back, I had let it slip through the cracks.

Isn’t that so damn sad?!  On so many levels, it crushes me.

That she thought I didn’t care enough to acknowledge her huge news. News that I knew she had been praying for.  She will be an amazing mother and we had discussed how kids just had to be in her future.  And, would be.  And wouldn’t that be an amazing day?  We couldn’t wait.  And, she married her Knight.  And, then it happened for her.  A baby!  And, she emailed me.  And….nothing.

That she believed it was possible that I would be so wrapped up in my own life not to get in touch. Never.  I just would never, ever be that sh*tty a friend.  Especially to her.  I hate that she thought I might be.

That she may have felt even the littlest twinge of sadness over my sh*tty friend-ness.  In the moment that was to be so exciting…sharing the big news!  And from her supposed long-time friend.  No reply?   No way.  I hope she wasn’t sad.

That the friggin’ Facebook world got to share her happy news before I did. That I never had that insider feeling you get when someone you love shares something before the news can really be out.  Selfish, I know, but true.

Of course, I don’t think for one minute that this whole miscommunication event was that big a deal to her.  I hope that I’m right that she was happily basking in her new marriage, the amazing man she married, the love of her other friends (surely more intimate friends on a day-to-day basis than I am) and the incredible life she was building inside of her.   (Not to mention the distraction of frequent vomiting.)  And my conspicuous absence from this joy was merely an unexpected blip for her.  I truly hope that it didn’t matter for her.

For me.  It matters.

Am I so wrapped up in my life?  Have I become that person that would miss an email or, worse, not even bother to reply?

I used to roll my eyes at technophobes.  Those archaic dinosaurs who say email is so impersonal.  That we should all be picking up the phone more often.  Writing notes.  Visiting each other.  Touching each other in a way that doesn’t involve a keyboard and DSL.

Now?   I just really wonder.    What’s technology doing to my relationships?  I may have 415 Facebook friends but how many of those people actually give a rat’s a** about me?  When push comes to shove, I mean.  Probably ten?  Six, maybe?  Really.  Not many.

And, one of that small collection of real friends?   She’s having a baby and I had no idea.

(sigh)

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