David – Born: Tuesday, February 8, 2005, 9:51am – 6lbs. 13oz. – 20.5 inches.
Baby, Mommy and Daddy are all doing wonderfully. More unpdates in a few days.
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During my walk, I started thinking about how much time we spend judging people. From the smallest things to the most significant. We spend hours criticizing other people’s lives, their clothes, the choices they made for a career or a partner. We criticize their taste in books or music. Their hair color or the way they arranged the furniture. It’s almost as if we get off knowing other people’s lives aren’t as ‘good’ or ‘appropriate’ as ours. I’m not talking about major tragedy here. There are some people who seem to really enjoy that, too. But for the most part, any decent human tends to feel sorry for an individual who is genuinely suffering. I’m talking about people who look down upon others for listening to Britney Spears. Or for reading Sidney Sheldon. Or for wearing certain clothes or shoes. As I was walking around yesterday, I began to wonder what motivates people to judge others that way. Who decides that one singer is “better” than another? Who decides that being good at math shows a higher level of intelligence than being artistic? Why and where were such conclusions made? Does it make a person feel better to know that their musical taste is “superior” to others’? I truly don’t understand why we do this? When did it start feeling good to bash others? It makes me sad that children who are born not knowing any of this will eventually learn and have to adapt to the society in which they are raised. This is why I ended up leaving my home country and environment. Not only did I not fit in, but I couldn’t foresee a situation in which I ever would. Isn’t it sad that because everyone has to be the same, we miss the opportunity of learning from each other? The chance to expand our horizons? If I only hung out with other computer programmers, I would have never learned the joy of sign language or graphic design. I may not be nearly as talented in either as some others are but I still get to appreciate them thanks to the people who love them and have opened my eyes. I owe that to the little girl I used to be.
However, I am so big and contracting so much that I can’t seem to function much anymore. You try sleeping with a big, hard rock attached to your stomach and let me know how it goes. Part of me is scared of all the changes life will bring with this baby and that part knows that I should prolong labor as much as possible. While I might not be able to get sleep now, at least I don’t have a baby that completely depends on me. (Actually, I already do but it somehow doesn’t feel as real). The other part of me can’t wait to finally see the little thing that’s been living in me for 9 months. I’d lie and say I am all calm about labor but I am scared shitless. Actually, I am scared shitless of the whole thing. I tend to enjoy predicatability. I don’t mean that I am afraid of unknown things cause I’ve ventured into the unknown many times in my life. I moved to the US for college all by myself. I lived in Japan for six months not knowing a word of the language and hating all the food. I left my cushy Wall Street job for a teaching job I believed in and then left that for a city I’d never seen in my life. I’m not afraid of conquering the unknown. In general. This time, it’s different. This time it affects more than just me. Or Jake and me. I am bringing this little creature into the world because I wanted to and regardless of his or her wishes, she or he will hopefully live for a long long time in this world because of me. I will get to decide how s/he begins life. I will choose the first few friends. The first school. The clothes and experiences this baby will have until s/he is old enough to make decisions. That’s a huge load of responsibility. In my mind, having a baby, and then a child, means that I am now fully subscribed into the land of the unknown. As opposed to venturing there every now and then, I will be taking permanent residence there. That might be exciting to a lot of people. It’s a bit scary to me. I couldn’t imagine doing it for a better reason but, it’s still quite overwhelming. I am hoping that the day to day life will leave me with little enough time that I won’t ponder the weight of this too often. That, and the hormones finally leaving my body, should help, too.
I haven’t been able to update because my parents came to town on Sunday and we’ve been running errands galore since then. We’ve taken what used to be Jake’s room and then became an empty room and made a complete baby room out of it. It has a crib with a mobile, matress, sheets and bumpers, drawers full of clothes and a changing table, a bed (which was there for guests and will stay there) full of stuffed animals and toys. Two vibrating bouncers, a baby monitor, a playpen thingie, the stroller, a closet with diapers, nail clippers, thermometer and baby medicine, books, video tapes, and a box full of toys. Most bought and all set up in the last four days. I also have a rocking chair with ottoman in the living room and a pack’n’play with crib and changing table in the bedroom. We have packed our hospital bags which are to be finalized today. I’ve made 5 hospital CDs for labor. We bought the bestest camcorder: JVC’s Everio which was something we drooled about but didn’t think we could get. Presents are so wonderful. The camera is packed and so is the camcorder. The birthing ball is blown up and pillows are ready. I’ve already read the first six chapters of The Baby Book and watched The Happiest Baby on the Block with Jake. We made a list of possible names for girls and boys. We’ve cleaned up the rooms and washed all the baby clothes and toys we received. We bought extra detergent so we don’t have to leave if we generate baby laundry faster than we can go out. I don’t need formula since, hopefully, I come equipped with the baby food. I do have to eventually get a pump but we’re going to wait a bit on that. My doctor’s out of town until Monday so I hope the baby can wait that long, but otherwise we seem to be all set. Or at least as set as we’ll get. Now all we can do is wait and hope that labor isn’t too too bad and much more importantly, that the little one is healthy. We’re waiting for you anxiously, little baby.
My first hesitation was statistical. There’s a higher than average chance of having a miscarriage in the first three month of a pregnancy, especially with the first pregnancy. Thus, I told myself that I didn’t want to get excited and caught up in all the reading. That felt like a pretty legitimate reason not to buy anything. Once the first trimester was over, I was so busy throwing up that I didn’t want to get up from bed, let alone go out to buy books. So another two months passed and I still hadn’t read a word about being pregnant or the baby growing inside of me. (Not to lie, there was one website I went to ocassionaly which told me what week I was in and what that meant.) On Month Five, once the puking stopped, I decided it was time to go out and purchase some books. Since my pregnancy was already almost at the end of its second trimester, I didn’t want to spend too much time or money on pregnancy books. Instead I bought books on the baby’s first year, teaching sign language, helping your baby sleep, etc. I bought only one pregnancy book that was supposed to be fun. I came home and read that one first. There are about 10 pages in each of these books that tell you what a “normal” pregnancy/birth is like. The rest of the several hundred-page book talks about things that can go wrong. Or it talks about things that will definitely happen and that aren’t pleasant. Like bleeding or severe cramps or acute pain. While it’s a good idea to know enough to be able to differentiate between the normal and the abnormal, I am not sure that knowing the details of how painful labor might be will help me go through it more smoothly. I am going to stick to baby books instead.
As the years passed, I didn’t feel like an adult and I didn’t think I looked like an adult. Not the way my mom did. Even though I discovered that she can behave like a child, too, I still thought my mom was more of a “grown up” than I was. College didn’t change that. Neither did moving into my very first apartment. Neither did getting a full time job and making more money than she ever did. It felt like maybe I was never going to grow up. Lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe crossing over the threshold to having my own kids is when I cross over the threshold to becoming an adult. This is officially the time when I am going to be much more concerned about another living being than I am about myself. Not that there aren’t times I put myself after Jake or my family or a friend. But this is permanent and it’s constant. This little baby, and later the child and even the adult, will always come before me. I will have to learn to push other people away kindly but firmly to protect the well being of my baby. I will have to learn to make major progress on my “hangups” because now they are affecting an unsuspecting third party who never signed up to deal with my issues. Even if I don’t feel it, I’m going to have to learn to act the part of a grown-up. It’s all a bit overwhelming and scary. What if I mess it up? I know what everyone says, “all you can do is your best.” But this is a huge responsibility. It’s not something to be taken lightly. I think my mom always looked like an adult cause she had us very young. She was only 21 when my sister is born. She learned to grow up very quickly. Over the years she adopted and looked the part of a grown up. And now it’s my turn. And I plan to take it seriously.
I commented that I tend to be less happy when I’m free and he replied that he does that, too, but it’s mostly due to avoidance. I agree with him partially. Sometimes there is a genuine issue brewing under and in that case it’s really a bad idea to avoid it and repress it down further so it’s harder to recall next time. Some stuff gets represed so much that we don’t even know it’s there anymore. That’s bed news cause it is bound to come up eventually and it’s not a pretty picture when it does. Having said that, I do think that sometimes it’s best not to have too much time to think. There are times when I have nothing better to do and so will take a small thing and blow it right out of proportion. I will spend a huge amount of energy stressing about it and I will make myself miserable. All this not because the issue really warrants being sad, but because I have too much time on my hands. How pathetic is that? The good news is, once the baby comes, too much free time won’t be a phrase I can utter until the baby is in college.
Recently, I’ve begun to notice that some of my oldest friends have become such acquaintances. We can talk for 50 minutes about absolutely nothing. And I don’t mean that in the nice way where you are chatting about the random fun stuff you did that day. I mean in the way where you both know the conversation is dragging. You’re not saying anything of substance and the conversation will never leave the realm of “fakeness.” I know that I should let go of this friendship regardless of its history. I know we both already have. But it’s so hard to take that last step. To admit that sometimes things just fall apart for no reason and when people don’t stop to recognize or address it, it gets to a point where there’s no turning back. Where you wonder what held it together to begin with. Where you can’t remember the beginning, only this very sad ending. Having these conversations physically pains me. But at the same time, I am loathe to let go for some reason. I don’t want to admit it’s over. It’s as if my admittance will make it end. So I just sit there and play along.
Major thanks go to my friend Cynthia who really did 99.9% of the work. To Ashlie who surprised me and came all the way from St. Louis just for the shower. To Jess and Chris who, even though they didn’t actually get to make it since the weather was extremely uncooperative, had intended to drive all the way from San Fran for the day. And to Stacey who drove down from Palm Springs in torrential rain. And to everyone who came and intended to come. It appears we, and our soon to be, are luckier than I ever imagined. We are surrounded by amazing people.
Don’t you want to know if it’s a girl or a boy? I am desperately curious to meet my baby. I pray that all is well and she or he will be born and live to be very healthy and happy long after I’m gone. I have a million worries and another million hopes. And in my list of ‘things I really hope for,’ gender isn’t number one. It isn’t even in the top ten. When I seriously sit down and think about it, I’ve decided that I don’t have a significant preference of gender. I know some pretty awful women and some pretty awful men. What I care about much more is that our baby turns out to have a mild and pleasant personality. That she or he is a moderately easy baby and child. That we do right by him or her. Those are the things I care about. I’ve met enough atypical examples of each gender that I know having a girl doesn’t guarantee any information about the sort of girl we’ll end up with. And same goes for the boy. We already have too many assumptions on the toys our kids will like or the life they will lead depending on the gender they are and I want to make sure I don’t fall into the typical pitfalls. So when I am honest with myself, it really doesn’t matter to me what gender the baby is. The main reason I am annoyed we don’t know is because, in English, I have to refer to the baby as ‘it’ since we can’t justifiably use he or she yet. Whereas, in Turkish, we don’t have gender-specific pronouns, making the ‘it’ equivalent not such a derogatory word to use. This is one of those cases where pronoun ambiguity would be in our favor. So, any premonitions? Girl or boy? (Oh, and we’re 99.9% positive that there’s only one so don’t even go there!)
I’d say downtime will come with the baby but we all know that’s a lie. I figure I should do it all before the little one comes since life as we know it will most likely be over with the arrival. Hope to catchup and get back into the groove in the next few days. Hope your holidays were fun.
I’ve come to believe that things happen one of two ways: out of severe necessity or because it’s time. In 2004, I quit drinking Diet Coke because I got pregnant and I knew that for a person who drank 8 to 10 cans a day, switching to 1 a day wasn’t a realistic option. I started drinking a ton more water, eating healthier, trying to keep my yoga to a regular schedule, stress less, and give up the need to lose weight. All for the same reason. The baby to come. I moved leaps and bounds in driving in that I’ve become a lot more comfortable and can hold animated conversations while I’m driving. This didn’t come out of hours of practice like one would think. It actually seems the less I drove, the more I became okay with it. I still have a huge way to go on that but somehow the time must have come for me to relax a bit because I did without a personal effort or vow to do so. As for reading more, learning more, being happier and calmer. Those came and went with the hormones in my body. To be fully honest, I can’t even remember the first four months before I was pregnant. I can’t remember how it felt not to feel so big and clumsy. Not to have to pee every five seconds. Regardless, most of this year felt like it wasn’t in my control and I learned quickly to keep up with the necessary and let go of the trivial. Which brings me to 2005. I am now wise enough to admit that I cannot make a single resolution that I am guaranteed to keep in 2005. I cross my fingers and toes that the baby will come close to on time and the labor will be as bearable as possible and, most importantly, the baby will be healthy and happy. If all those things happen, I am willing to consider 2005 a good year. Most of my wishes for this coming year involve others. I wish for Jake’s business to prosper. I want us to have a happy balance and a healthy approach to building our family. I hope the baby has an uneventful, happy, colic-free year. We will be starting the year with a lot of visitors which means that we’ll be surrounded by family more than we’ve been in the last ten years. I hope that it strengthens our bonds and starts us off in a good track. I know that I won’t be able to control most of what goes on this year (and probably all the others after this one). I hope I learn to relinquish the need to control quickly and learn to live my new life as wonderfully as possible. I make no resolutions this year, except for one which I think is necessary: I will learn to go with the flow. May 2005 bring all of you prosperity, luck, health, and ample joy. Thank you for stopping by. |
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