Through Pregnancy-Tinted Glasses.

When I was pregnant with Scarlet - and gosh darn, I start a lot of recent blogs with those words - I had a major food aversion to kale. Nothing personal, I'm sure. It's a mild enough green. Basically I had one week or two of queasiness/nerves and whatever I forced down that one early week, I couldn't even look at again. Kale, beets, pea soup. All good things. The kale one was so strong that I couldn't even look at it, raw or cooked. In fact, during that long, cold, icy first-trimester fall/winter, we sat with Cassidy's mom and her husband, Ernie, and watched all of "LOST" from seasons one through five. As you may know, it's a very lush, green show. Sometimes I had trouble looking at all of the greenery because it reminded me of kale. Totally bizarro. I'm happy to say that by mid-pregnancy, I didn't at all mind the look and smell of kale. I still didn't eat it until after birth, and even that was in a safe form - baked kale chips. They're pretty divine.

It's just funny to me how eating something at the wrong time could lead to such drama. Only in pregnancy, could one week of queasiness rage a war against kale, a war so strong you interpreted it into a TV show you were watching. A TV show that had nothing to do with kale. That's pregnancy for you. Even when you've got it good, so good, something will get you in the beginning. Something. I realize I wrote a long post about how I was the most non-pregnant pregnant woman I'd ever met, but that doesn't mean...that nothing at all happens when your entire, entire body gets completely invaded and all of your internal organs get moved around. Nice, huh? I probably lose male readers with these talks. I hope not.

So I was thinking lately about the way I view the world through pregnancy. Things that used to be so easy are no longer easy. I used to be able to carry my near two and a half-year-old a lot more than I can now. I never make long term plans to travel by plane because I just can never know if I'll be up for it when that time comes. This is such a shame because my grandfather is having a 100th birthday party this January and I'd love to have booked a trip already. But..I get winded at Target. Add a few more pounds on me and put me in an airport with a toddler in arms, and I'm scared. Very scared.

Then it's the way I look at people. Basically if I'm looking at a person who couldn't possibly be pregnant at this given time - this includes children, all men, and old women, I can't help but stare longingly at their un-invaded bellies. I try to be discreet about this. It's usually only done from the car passenger window. I do NOT want to be known as the creepy lady staring at stomachs.

Then, there's food. Cassidy and I watch Food Network sometimes. I thought this would be more of a problem in early pregnancy but luckily, it hasn't been. I have had to look away a few times but mostly it's when they're handling foods I wouldn't look at in my "real life" (non-pregnancy) anyway. However, every food commercial that comes on puts me in deep thought:

"Does that intrigue me or repulse me?" "It repulses me." "Good." Next commercial.

"Does that intrigue me or repulse me?" "It intrigues me." "A lot." "Enough to go out and get it or ask Cassidy to go out and get it for me?" "Well..I suppose not." "Tomorrow I will dine on that...(whatever it is)"

It's not just TV. When I'm in public and I catch whiffs of food when restaurant doors open, it starts the same inner dialogue. Just in that case, I don't have to wonder about whether I should go out and get it or Cassidy should. I just wonder if I should eat it at that given moment, or walk far, far away from the restaurant.

Let it be said - that I have never asked Cassidy to go out alone on a cold, dark night and get me some strange thing I'm craving. If he was already going out...different story. But I have yet to do that in either pregnancy.

Then there are babies and toddlers in public. It's true that I already have a child and I'm fairly certain that I tend to give birth to smallish, full-head-of-hair, big-eyed babies. Yet I will still gaze at your big, bald, dreamy, drooly balls of life and wonder if mine will look like that.

Lastly, we have names. I am an avid reader. Of good books. I also avidly read US Weekly. Both good books and US Weekly are filled with names and baby names. I can't read for even five minutes without running my tongue and mind (sounds dirty but isn't) over every name I hear. It was so much easier with Scarlet because we both loved that name well before we were married and we just got lucky with having a girl first. It's not so easy these days.

No one told me that going through it once does not, in fact, make it easier to go through it again. In some ways, it's easier. In some ways, it's more challenging.

I am totally invaded. I admit it. I am human-carrying-human, after all. You can't exactly not be affected by that.

End Of The Road.

I was born in 1980. If you were born around then, give or take several years, my blog title just might put that wonderful Boyz II Men song of the same name in your head. Right? Now try to get it out and tell me how you did so because I can't seem to do that. I'm having so many 1992 neon-pink windbreaker-laced flashbacks of school dances and girls crying in the bathroom during this song. Heck, some of them had no shame and just cried out on the dance floor. I myself only cried in public over a boy once, in the 7th grade cafeteria. This kid, Chris? Had his friend walk over and break up with me for him. What a coward. This is why I didn't bother with boys again until college...

...You know who you are. You loved (still love?) this song.

I'm probably not going to sit here and recap 2011 and how much it sucked or didn't suck. All of these years have their joys and their challenges. Some have much more of one than the other. It wasn't my best year. It wasn't my worst year. A heck of a lot happened. It started with blizzards galore and Scarlet meeting her great-grandparents. It peaked with the dizzying, berry-filled heights of summer and having a newly-turned two-year-old. It ended with buying a freakin' house and conceiving a child on the third anniversary of the day that we left the promised land of California. (Er...not that we keep track of those things..publicly)

Which brings me to my next point. As December of 2011 dawned, Cassidy and I both realized two crucial and sad facts. 2011 was the first year in about...forever for him and several, several years for me, that neither of us set foot on California soil all year long. It just...didn't happen this year. Not only that, we both realized that 2011 was the first year in about...definitely forever for me and probably just as long for him, that neither of us set foot on Manhattan soil (cement..rat poop?) Cassidy who is by no means a slacker is taking right care of that seeing Phish at MSG tonight. Just in the nick of time! Only a few days to spare. Say what you want about Cassidy, but he does have style. (Dumbledore from Harry Potter reference)

And, me? Well, a full year without California and New York City. A place I'm haunted by in a good way and a place I'm haunted by in a bad way. Haunted is haunted. Can a New Year's Resolution be as simple as, "Stand on California soil." "Stand on Manhattan soil." Maybe they should be. And, of course, heal more and become more secure and less anxious at the idea of parenting two young and beautiful souls. Before I met Scarlet, I didn't know much about her but I felt her strength. I felt that she wasn't going anywhere. I've suffered more this time around, but I feel the power of this next one too. He/she is going to kick a** and take names. Mothers know these things. So for now, we wait for the new year and life but we wait in style.

What is now like? Now is about adjusting and healing. Saying goodbye to a month and a year and hello to a new month and a new year. We all like to believe our new years will be full of promise and hope, but heck, ours really is this time around, I think. A new baby! Two new seasons in our new house. Life unfolding. As we wile away the hours of the end of December, we huddle together around our pellet stove. Scarlet? Patient and easy to entertain and to relax with. Me? Still not feeling my great, glowy, pregnant best. It will happen. Oh, it will happen. Mark my words.

In the non-glowy but still lively in-betweens, I savor her creativity by finding little funny things around the house. Hair bows on a wooden giraffe's head. Baby and Simpsons dolls "tucked" into makeshift beds between the bars of the wall and her crib. The fact that she wears winter gear in the house:










For now, we delight in shadow/sunbeam faces as the earth spins ever so slightly closer to the sun:







The intensity with which she colors. Like a mad artist!





And then we have holidays and first cousins and opening stockings and other delights.











She's gonna be a bit like me...






And, of course, a bit like her dad. She just knows how to hold and play a guitar. It's really scary. Even the look on her face = rockstar.










My favorite, by far:




You're probably wondering what on earth could make someone this happy? (below) It was a lenticular "wiggly picture." You'll have to google it, I suppose. Mom, don't hate me for posting this. Consider it payback.















My dad has exquisite taste in clothing for my mom. I didn't touch this at all in Photoshop and I never would anyway. It is THAT vivid.



Most of these photos, these moments, don't need captions. You know how I feel. Happy and loved. Excited to bring another life into these small and large moments that make up a life.


"Although we've come to the End Of The Road
Still I can't let you go
It's unnatural, you belong to me, I belong to you
Come to the End of the Road" -- Boyz II Men

The Boxing Day Blues.

I know, I know. It must seem like I'm having an endless case of the blues - November Blues, Baby Blues, Boxing Day Blues. Fear not because these blues only last a day or so.

I had a really nice week off from everything, a week I didn't even know I needed off! It all started last week with holiday parties. Each night we either hosted a holiday party or went to a holiday party. Then after our last Hanukkah party (or is it Chanukah? I haven't the foggiest), we got home fairly late and had to wake up the next morning and scramble to pack bags for all three of us, finish wrapping presents and get on the road to Jersey. When we got there, we then happily celebrated more Hanukkah and, of course, Christmas.

Oh, the food. And the movies I watched from the comfort of my childhood couch against a gigantic TV. And the family. It was much quieter than Thanksgiving but I think it had to be. We didn't even have enough guest rooms for Thanksgiving. It was definitely the first year that Scarlet understood the holidays, at least to the degree that we can talk about them. She's both Jewish and Christian and although people may argue that she's one or the other, or that she can't be both, well, she is both. By blood and by the family she's being raised in. Since I'm a bit religion and holiday confused myself, what I realized this year was that it is just important to me to have traditions in our family. Traditions that work well for us and have meaning. And even though she's still a bit young, I want her to know what these holidays mean to this family. So far, so good.

This is really just a quick pop-in to say hi and to tell you I haven't forgotten about this blog for even an instant, and have just been enjoying an extended holiday vacation. I'll be back soon with photos (yes, really, finally) and more to talk about!

14 weeks pregnant now. Some symptoms have faded but I still feel pretty knackered, more than I'm comfortable with. And I still hate the smell of fire. Looking very forward to the new year and all that will come with it.

When I was a kid, I hated the end of the holidays so, so much. Sometimes I still feel that to this day - that end of holiday vacation from school stings so much, you can feel its echoes in adulthood. Although in truth, as a somewhat mall-grinchy adult, I welcome the new year and the way the world around me goes back to normal. So the end of the holiday season brings as much happiness and relief as it does sadness. What is hard for me is the separation from family after being so tightly knit and cozy for a few blissful days. It's never been easy. It's not easy. It will probably never been easy.

Sometimes I like the way it hurts a bit. It means I have so, so much love in my life that I can feel the pain of not having it always in proximity. Bittersweet.

What To Expect. Not.

When I was pregnant with Scarlet, I was given a copy of "What To Expect When You're Expecting." Some people love it. Some people hate it. I eventually loved it but I couldn't even crack it open until the second trimester. It was for the same reason that I recently looked back at my babycenter.com account and learned I didn't sign up for it until January of 2009. My second trimester. With both the book and the website, I didn't like being told what I should feel like for fear I'd start feeling just like I'd read I should feel. I'm too nutty for that!

I didn't find out about my pregnancy until about six weeks gestational age. It's not ridiculously late but enough time had passed to allow early pregnancy symptoms to show on their own and not through the power of suggestion. They weren't bad but they came across as strange since I was in a state of denial that I was pregnant. Sleeping a lot more. "Umm...cause it's fun." I hate the smell of garlic and I didn't hate it yesterday. "Umm..maybe that's one of those extreme stress symptoms?" My period was over a week late. "Umm..another stress symptom?" Once I learned that I was pregnant and not insane, I finally cracked open "What To Expect." Then I instantly snapped it back shut. Literally every single page about the first trimester is about puking. It's the most vomit-obsessed book in existence. "Vomiting yet? You will be! Work life will change...because you will be vomiting. Your sex life will change...because of the vomiting. Your diet will change...because you won't be able to keep any food down. Do you like good oral hygiene? I hope not because brushing your teeth will make you vomit!"

I may be paraphrasing a bit but that's how it read to me.

And, you see, not only wasn't I vomiting, I never even came close. It didn't end there. Eventually I opened that book and found it very helpful in telling me about the baby's growth and size. It turns out that stomach ailments are just symptoms in the beginning. Symptoms don't end in the first trimester, oh no. Then what to expect isn't much more fun.

Acne? Nope. My skin was never better.

Mood swings? Never. I cried in the opening minutes of "Up" but who doesn't??

Charlie horses? I had a really bad one...once.

Heartburn? I had it so badly that I couldn't lie down...once.

Swollen feet? Maybe slightly at the very, very end but barely. I could wear my normal size shoes within a few days after she was born.

Strange cravings? Not really. I did want fruit a lot in the beginning but it was only because of my extreme thirst. I still loved chocolate, potatoes and whipped cream. It wasn't weird to want those things.

Peeing all the time? Seriously, never. Not even at the end!

Slowing down and feeling unbalanced? Not really. At eight months, I was still getting annoyed at how slowly people walk in public. At nine months, I was still climbing stairs and doing everything as usual. The only thing I couldn't do anymore was to get up from the couch fast. I missed that a lot. I missed sleeping flat on my back too.

I was the most non-pregnant pregnant woman.

Then there was after the birth and the horrors I was told to expect. None of it happened. Incontinence? Nope. Hemorrhoids? I still don't know what those are. Stretch marks? None. Breast milk nipple leakage? Not once. Yes, I just said nipple leakage on my blog.

I realize how obnoxious this may all sound, but I don't even look at it as me saying it. I look up to my past self as some sort of superhero. I'm not sure why I had it so good. I suppose it was a mixture of things: good genes, good health, youth, athleticism, a good mind/body connection, and the power of positive thinking.

It gives me a lot to live up to this time around, but I look forward to the challenge. It's just funny how I had to tune out so many voices, both in person and in my pregnancy books. Every situation is unique. I had to learn to let the horror stories roll off my back so that I could create my own unique, happy pregnancy.

It doesn't have to be horrible. It might be, but it doesn't have to be. They told me about all of those pregnancy symptoms. They told me my newborn would cry all day long. They told me I'd never get good sleep again.

"They" were wrong. That time. It remains to be seen whether I can be that lucky again. What I do know is, don't read that book unless you're stronger than I was! You can never know what to expect and it might be best not to expect the worst.

And like I said, it doesn't have to be bad. Whenever I see a newly pregnant person, I want to hug them and tell them to tell the rest of the world to shut up. My one piece of advice? Tell everyone to shut up. Listen to yourself.

I'm learning how to do that again. It's pretty awesome.

Turning Points.

Today was the first day of my second trimester..depending on who you ask. According to pregnology.com and my doctor, today's the day. According to babycenter.com, next week is the day. I decided to base it according to me. Today is totally the day. Happy 2nd Trimester to me. I expect great things, especially if I base the next three months on how today was:

1. Today started with sleeping in until 9. Yesterday was even better. We slept in until nearly 10. We arranged a sleepover with Scarlet for Friday night at her grandparent's house, about an hour or so from here. I was only slightly apprehensive as the week went on because I am a bit of a control freak where she is concerned, but I was totally happy to see how excited she was about it. It went perfectly, so perfectly that we lazily called them on Saturday morning and asked if they would like her for another night so we could relax all of Saturday. They were delighted. We were delighted. This blog is about today so I won't talk much about the earlier part of the weekend but we had lots of kid-free fun, including three hours of couch shopping and watching some bad-but-good movies.

2. When we arrived in Connecticut this morning to pick up Scarlet after 48 hours apart from her, she sort of just stared at us and then happily said our names. Still, we know our kid so we kept our distance. It took some restraint but we were rewarded with warm hugs just minutes later. Then we had a lovely, sunny brunch and laughed at her antics. I admit I was half asleep through some of this. First trimester symptoms don't always leave overnight. But I know what happened was pivotal and that we'll happily send her away for many grandparents weekends in the future. (Yay for her having three sets of those!) Happy for all included.

3. On the drive home, I really wanted hash browns so I got hash browns. It was pretty awesome.

4. Then we went to a good friend's party. I saw not only my good friend but many, many other good friends. I had three servings of the best chili ever. There was much merriment.

5. I was the last guest to leave the party. I can't tell you how long it's been since that has happened but it always used to happen at this particular friend's house. It was nice to see that I've "still got it." "It" was just hidden in the folds of 1st trimester/moving/anxiety blues. I...don't want to take that crap anymore. Cheers to leaving the party last!

6. I was struggling to put Scarlet in the van in the total blackness because the van light is out. The van door wasn't working. It would close and then not close and then close. Finally I thought it was closed and I said, "Thanks, you giant piece of sh*t." I thought it was closed but it wasn't and Scarlet was shrieking with laughter at my outburst. You could literally hear her laughter light up the dark night. Yes, I was bad to swear..but it was really funny.

7. On the way home, the whole town we were in was having a big Luminarium celebration. We were behind a tractor decorated with Christmas lights in the shape of an angel. A few potentially drunk people dressed as Santa were on that tractor. I love where I live.

8. Also on the way home, I wanted to keep Scarlet awake so we kept yelling "Lights" every single time we saw lights. Then to our surprise, we saw magnificent fireworks being set off by the town. Really magnificent and right in front of us. Winter fireworks. Can't say I've ever seen those before but I loved the rainbow reflection of winter fireworks in my daughter's eyes.

9. I asked the radio gods to predict my next few months and the progress I'd make emotionally and physically. They played "Broken Wings" by Mister Mister. When was the last time you heard that one??? I needed it:

"Take these broken wings, and learn to fly again, learn to live so free
And when we hear the voices sing, the book of love will open up and let us in"

10. As we turned into our dark, winding, woodsy driveway, Scarlet asked me if she could see the stars when we got out of the car. I told her, "Of course" and she said, "It's a wonderful life." Then I pulled her out and we looked at the stars as she squeezed me tight.


All in a day. A wonderful day. A turning point, in many ways.

Sprouting Wings.

What always amazes me about my personal blogging process is, how unplanned it is. I can actually be a super-organized person but that is not the case here. There is no room for it here. At least once or twice, or three times a week, I worry that I will wind up on a Sunday, Tuesday or Thursday without a blog post. With the exception of moving, power outages and early pregnancy exhaustion that I couldn't tell anyone about, I always publish a blog on my designated blogging days. Sometimes I vary and go for a Wednesday or Friday. Sure. The blogging always happens though. Sometimes only in the nick of time, but often before that. I used to fly more by the seat of my pants but three fatiguing factors changed that. It grew cold and dark. I moved to a place in which my computer is no longer in the warm, common room. I grew pregnant. I no longer could hope for inspiration to start at 7:00 pm for an 8 or 9:00 pm publish time. Often, I'm camped out in my "nest" by 7:00 pm - magazines, new iPhone, good book, bad TV. I write earlier in the day and often publish earlier too. We're all earlier birds these days. At the height of summer I could publish a post late in the night and get readers. Now, not so much.

Historically, good photography helps me write a story. News to announce, such as moving to a house, and being pregnant helps me write a story. Those are the planned blog posts. The rest of it? I often don't know where it's going to come from until it comes. Sometimes previous blog posts can sprout wings and gain sequels or follow-ups. It's not so common but it's happening right now. Two days ago, I posted about fears and anxieties concerning my second pregnancy. It was a post I didn't know I was going to write until just before I wrote it. And until I wrote it and watched it meander and settle, it was nothing like my original idea. The follow-up comments on my blogs and personal emails to my inbox have...astounded and floored me. People have written me the most beautiful advice, ideas, suggestions I could ever imagine. Reading it all has been therapeutic. Much, much more so than writing it. A few people have even written to tell me they think I'm courageous to have written it. Do I think so? Not. At. All. I'm not going to say it's cowardly to publish something personal and that I don't appreciate those words tremendously. Admitting you have a problem is the first step, sure, but does it count AT ALL if you don't go beyond that? I think not.

The truth is, I don't want to be a fearful, anxious, and frustrated mother. Scarlet and "Lime" deserve better than that. I don't want to be a fearful, anxious, and frustrated wife. Cassidy deserves better than that. I don't want to be a fearful, anxious, and frustrated person. I deserve better than that.

I used to think blogging would be enough for stress relief. It's not. It's like once in my youth when I decided to see a therapist for awhile. It wasn't at all satisfying for me, although I imagine it was for her because she got those big checks. It stopped pretty abruptly and nothing was ever accomplished. In some ways, I felt worse for a few weeks after. My mom said something so wise. She said, "Of course you don't feel better. You stirred up all of those buried feelings and fears but you didn't resolve them. No resolution!" So, so true.

I think about what people do to relieve stress:

Exercise. Your body peaks and then rests. Resolution is had!

Sex, either with someone or with yourself. A resolution is had! And if not, well, do something about that.

And lots of other things - creating art, deep breathing, meditation, and much more. Photography is stress relieving to me. There's always a resolution to me. Writing is important to me often not a resolution. Sometimes when I blog, I write out questions to the universe and they're not always answered. I work out ideas and can tell you how I feel and maybe even why, but the lack of resolution is why blogging isn't therapy. It's therapeutic, but not therapy. I'm often talking at myself.

Your comments and emails? Totally therapy. It helps me piece together the broken pieces and fragments of my mind. Do I need more of this? Yes. Do I need more of just...more? Yes. And not only do I owe it to Scarlet, Cassidy, "Lime" and myself to feel glowing and fabulous, I owe it to you blog readers. You help me every day and I intend to take you on this particular journey of self-betterment. Not sure where I'm headed and how I'll get there, but I never really do, do I?

I leave you with lines from one of my most favorite Tom Petty songs, "Two Gunslingers." Every time I hear that song, I scream "Yes!" and put up the volume as loudly as I can:

"Two gunslingers walked out in the street and one said
"I don't wanna fight no more."
And the other gunslinger thought about it and said,
"Yeh, what are we fighting for?"

I'm takin' control of my life, I'm takin' control of my life
I'm takin' control of my life right now, oh yeah"

So good.

Swan Song.

Have you been totally loving the gobs of photos I've been posting lately?? Yeah. Me neither.

I should really be more like the USPS - "Nor wind, nor hail, nor November Blues, nor pregnancy, should stop me from taking more photos." It does every time. I fear I'll be rusty when I get back into it. Or else it'll be fluid magic. A few weeks ago, I had a paid gig right on a local riverside that went really, really well. Well means that they were lovely to work with and they wanted to buy like 10,000 prints when it was all over. Which means that they liked my work. Which means that I rule. I lived off of that high for two weeks or so. I realize my "glow period" is over and I plan to post pictures soon. They won't be just pictures that I've taken. You will be treated to my husband's work very soon. Think: belly bump pics! That's right. It starts.

I like when he takes pictures. Remember this gem?



There are more where that came from! Soon.

For now, let's talk about babies. Yes, again. As most of you regular readers know, I've been subject to bouts of situational anxiety over the last several years. I was probably a bit of a nervous kid but other than strange fears of movie theaters and loud noises...and earthquakes, tornados, and lions...which were all well-founded and explored, I didn't suffer. I was a happy child. I was dealt a traumatic blow in the first few years of my life but I lived on. It all catches up eventually, but that happens to everyone at some point. I even dealt really well with stress in high school and college. There was one incident during junior year finals in which I may or may not have broken into stress-related hives, but that was very isolated! And it was allergy season! And I have bad Jersey allergies. So moving right on, situational anxiety didn't really hit me until after college. Transitional periods have always been an issue. It often goes away and I'm more often in an anxiety dry spell - that can be years without even one symptom. Years. When I was first pregnant until Scarlet turned one, I was in a dry spell.

Not even a passing second of anxiety until one day there was. Last fall/winter were particularly rough and while a few people close to my life passed away (three, to be exact), I often attributed my anxiety to the aftermath and PTSD of Scarlet's dogbite and hospital stay. If I really think back, though, I had a few nervous spells before that. The first time it happened, Scarlet was nearly one and we were at an early summer BBQ. Everything was swell, although a bit too hot and humid for my taste. Some people I didn't know came to the party with their brand-spankin' new baby girl. I mean new. She must have been two weeks old, tops. They walked in and I took one look at her and my heart started pounding. A few deep breaths and I was fine but I definitely walked around after that thinking, "What the hell was that??"

Several months later at the eve of my nephew being born, the same thing happened. Since it was a scheduled c-section, I knew his birthday. I didn't yet know he was a "he" and of course I was concerned about my sister-in-law, but everything was fine. I was considerably anxious the night before his birth.

I'm not talking heavy dramatics here - not full blown panic attacks or long-term anxiety. What I'm talking about was subtle, but noticed. Multiple times. It still happens around babies sometimes.

And I wonder why I'm so scared of babies now. I wasn't this scared the first time around and everything went smoothly. No traumatic pregnancy, no traumatic birth. Her first birthday was traumatic because she spent it in a hospital but the fear started before then. Sometimes I wonder if it's because my father died after having two kids. Maybe deeply in my subconscious, I fear I will also die young after having two kids, just like he did. Maybe I fear this is my swan song of life. It doesn't make a whole lot of logical sense to me, but hey, being scared of newborns doesn't either.

I don't really believe this is my swan song. I'm not him. And still, maybe that's not the issue at all. Maybe I need to deeply explore these strange fears. What I really want to know is, why is it scarier this time around? I've been here before!

Shouldn't that make this easier?

Top Ten Pregnancy Questions Answered.

Being openly pregnant invites a pretty steady barrage of questions, both in person and in email. To some women, this is annoying. To me? Not at all! When I don't know about something or even if I do and am very curious, I like to have the chance to ask questions. I like to get to know people and their experiences better. I like that people want to know about me.

A lot of lovely blog readers have sent in some pretty juicy pregnancy questions over the last couple of weeks. A lot of people have asked me questions in person. I have felt a little like "Dear Abby" answering them all as they come in. I have compiled the most popular questions with fully thought-out answers for your enjoyment. I hope this clears up some of the mystery:

1. Was this baby planned? My, what a question! I have to say I don't mind getting it but I'm not positive I would ask it unless it were a close friend or a relative. I have two sisters, both wanting kids and both not quite there yet, so I always tell them I'll help them with ANYTHING and tell them ANYTHING when that point comes. Yes, this baby was planned quite sufficiently. For those of you who know how much I despise winter/flu season and wouldn't want to be pregnant in an oppressive New England August, a late June due date should clarify the thought involved in this. I never got to the point of charting, temperature taking, digital ovulation monitoring, but I would have and think they're great for many people.

2. How do I feel? Well, that's the million dollar question and there's no easy answer. I feel...a little mental, to be honest. There are times in which I feel totally normal. There are times in which I feel worse than I did when I was pregnant with Scarlet. Sometimes I wonder if second pregnancies are just a little harder than first pregnancies, at least for me. Then I think about how during the most sensitive, queasy time of pregnancy, we were moving into a new house with new smells and I was also chasing a two-year-old, and I think maybe if you took those factors away, I'd feel almost...normal. Maybe. I feel tired a lot but that could be life and winter and chasing a two-year-old. I feel nauseous at times, although that's fading fast now that we're at 12 weeks, but it could be a mixture of stress and pregnancy. A gross combo, for sure. I find that if I get the chance to take care of myself, things are ok. If Cassidy or Grandma are around, and I am given the chance to either sleep, snack, fresh-air or bad-TV the bad feelings away, nine times out of 10, queasiness be gone. Like magic.

3. Do you know what you're having? Believe it or not, I'm not a fan of the snarky comeback, "Yes..I know I'm having a baby!" Or saying, "Well we know it's either a boy or a girl." Maybe it's just me but I don't get sick of questions. People are curious and they should be. There's a great mystery surrounding pregnancy and childbirth and I know this because when it was my turn, I didn't know jack! Seriously. I had to really cram in my studying/decisions. I know more now. Now to actually answer your question, no. Where I live, only two ultrasounds are covered by insurance, unless you're high risk. One in the beginning at 8-10 weeks and one at 20 weeks. At 20 weeks, I'll potentially know what I'm having! Eight weeks to go.

4. Do I want a boy or a girl more? Another million dollar question. If we get a boy, just sign us right up for a white picket fence and a puppy because we'll be living the American Dream. A boy and a girl? Perfection! But...I mean, girl babies just make me siiiiigh. And we could totally outfit one for years, just until she gets really sick of Scarlet's weird "Doctor Who" and "Rolling Stones" hand-me-downs. And naming a girl? Easier. Doesn't mean the challenge of naming a boy won't be fun and fruitful. Maybe my gut is telling me I want a girl more because I know that bliss so well, but my gut is also telling me that I'm intrigued by the thought of having a boy too. All I know is that I'll love he/she to the moon and back either way. And that's all that matters.

5. Do I have a feeling one way or another about the sex of the baby? Hmm...On the eve of my 20 week ultrasound, maybe I'll admit that. I waited that long last time and I was right!

6. Do we have names picked out already? Of course! If it's a boy, he will be named Alan Rickman Bowman. If it's a girl, Scarlet picked out Lady Gaga Bowman. I don't think we approve of this at all, but she seemed so earnest and adamant about it so maybe we'll just...hope for a boy.

7. Am I scared to have two kids? Totally, totally petrified. We won't be outnumbered but we will be evenly matched. I imagine juggling two nap schedules, two meal menus, two playdates, two sets of activities, two sets of appointments and more may be more than I bargained for. I imagine downtime will not come as often as it does now (for 2-3 hours every afternoon and for 12 hours after 8pm!). I tell myself a lot that people have two kids and even more every day and they don't die of "Having Multiple Children Disorder." At least there are no documented cases.

8. Do you think you'll have more children after this? Heck, no!!!!! But...that's what we said after Scarlet too. We thought we were a one child family. We're not, I guess. We say, "Never say never." However at this point, I'm "nearly" positive that if there is a third child, it will be an adopted child.

9. What gives? I remember you saying you only wanted one! What changed your mind? A valid question! We were quite sure we only wanted one child. A few things changed that. For one, Scarlet is charming and delightful and at least on my end, I couldn't imagine going through life without her being a sister. I also couldn't imagine going through life without the chance to hold my own newborn again. On a more serious note, my grandparents are 98 and nearly 100 right now (longevity gene!) and they've needed more help in the last year or two. I watch my mom and my uncle work on making their parents comfortable and happy, and I shudder to think about what it would be like for them if they didn't have each other in this. To me, siblings matter a lot. They are lifelong. Friends come and go and parents get older a lot faster.

10. Can I touch your belly? Well...yes, because you asked.

Breaking The Seal.

I don't like to draw attention to this fact often, especially due to the scores of articles and books being written about the dangers of focusing too much on little girls' looks, but I am intoxicated by the way Scarlet looks. Of course I am! I'm her mother. Those silken curls, that creamy skin, that little chin dimple that may or may not stay, the cheeks that still have a trace of baby fat left, her muscular physique that most definitely didn't come from me...No, really. Have you seen baby pictures of me? I was chunkier. Greener eyes. Darker curls, already turning to waves by two and three. Not her.

It's no wonder we want another baby.



The term "breaking the seal" is a very funny one, indeed. And I cannot say I've ever experienced it in my life. Quite like "hair of the dog," as a non-drinker, these are terms I just hear about from my "sophisticated" and grown-up siblings. Breaking the seal. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe it refers to an event that occurs after a night of heavy drinking. Obviously what goes down must...go down even further. (Better than back up) Apparently, you're totally fine until that first time you urinate. Then, you have "broken the seal" and you have to pee several times after that, consistently, for the rest of the night. You broke the seal! You're screwed! Have fun in the bathroom!

At least that's what they tell me.

When I was pregnant with Scarlet, I was so fascinated by what she looked like and who she was. I seriously had no idea! No "maternal feelings." I felt her kick me all day and night. I felt her reactions to sweet and spicy foods. Sometimes a loud noise out of nowhere would make her jump. I was never alone, even when Stormy and Cassidy weren't around. I had my little, silent but kicky buddy always with me. For months I even said she was a boy. I think I knew she wasn't but I had to pretend I thought so. The night before my 20 week ultrasound I admitted that I "knew" she was a girl, just like Cassidy had all along. That was about as much as I ever "knew" about her. I seriously pictured a blond or bald baby. I got thick, dark curls, quite like how I was born. Still, this surprised me. Towards the end of my pregnancy, I dreamed every night that I met her and in each dream, she was different. Bald, red-haired, with teeth, without teeth, with two noses, without a nose, you name it, I dreamed it. I just didn't know. What of our genes would we see at birth? How would that change over the years? Would we see her paternal great-grandfather's nose? Her maternal grandfather's ears? Who the heck ever knows until you know?!?!

It's like a science project. The greatest science project I ever knew.

I thought having one kid would satisfy the greatest fascination of my life. "Hey, I love you. You love me. If we got married and had a kid, what the heck would he/she look like?" Then we did all of that and found out a lot. It wasn't enough.

At two, Scarlet doesn't really have any obvious direct features from either of us. You know how sometimes you see those cute little kids who identically and eerily stole a facial feature right off their mom or dad's faces? Not Scarlet. Her eyes seem to be blue, gray and amber, which quite frankly, I've never even heard of. It borrows colors from both my eyes (green, gray, amber) and Cassidy's eyes (blue, green, gray) Her hair started out like mine and the color/consistency has now settled on something between us both. Her nose and chin and ears and physique have yet to settle into one form. I see my mother as a baby in her. I see my grandfather as a baby in her. I see me as a baby in her. I see Cassidy as a baby in her. I see some of Cassidy as an adult in her. And it will all change, and change again.

Lately I've realized that by having her, I "broke the seal." Instead of satisfying an urgent need, I've made it worse. I won't have 17 children but the scientist in me wants to have 17 children just to see what they'd all look like and be like. Would any of them be a mini-Tamara? Would any be a mini-Cassidy? It's all so fascinating I can barely take it! That first one was pretty awesome but she just made my hunger worse. What else can we create? (in our science labs)

Who is this little "fig-turned-lime" growing rapidly in me as we speak? What will he/she look like? And will it make my "break the seal" fever even worse to want yet another science project..baby? Probably.

How Does She Do It?

I have many good friends and family members who have been through terrible tragedies. I think I have too. I can't even begin to dare to measure degrees of suffering in this world, but I believe that there are some events that top the list. One day, years after a personal tragedy that some friends went through, I sat with them one night and talked about all of the things people have said to them over the years since it happened. One thing they found particularly stupid was when people said, "I don't know how you got through it. I couldn't have done it myself." My friends were incredulous:

"How did we get through it? How did we get through it, you idiots? What were our other options? It's live or die."

Plain and simple, you go on or you don't. Most people go on.

It is overwhelming for me to think sometimes about how people get through suffering. I once read a psychologist say that heartbreak for most feels worse than when someone dies, at least on a temporary basis. Their reasoning was that with heartbreak, you get the frustrating sensation that what you want most in the world is in this world, but you can't have it. With death, there's a finality that you do accept. It's not a rejection. It's not something you can't have that is going on without you, happy without you, with someone who isn't you. And I've had my heartbreaks and seriously, how did I get through the suffering? It's easy to say from this brighter side of things, "Well..maybe it wasn't that bad. Yeah. I could do that again." Maybe your memories get slightly erased. Like with birth! When you're giving birth, you may be swearing or yelling or crying or wanting to die, or in my case, looking your nurse in the eyes and saying, "Yup! Won't be doing this again!" And then it's over and it's glorious and the next day, you look your husband in the eyes and say, "I could do that again!"

But birth is just a day. Or for an unlucky few, 2-3 days. I've been thinking about individual suffering and how fast time can pass when you're not suffering in any way. And you may see other people suffering, but since time passed quickly for you, you may assume time passed quickly for them. "Well hey," you may say. "They're strong. I couldn't go through that."

Oh, but you could. You can. One day you will be standing on the other side of your suffering. Whether standing as tall as you once were, or hunched over just the slightest bit, whether permanently or not. Standing, just the same.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my first pregnancy. I've been thinking about my friends' pregnancies, because I have a few pregnant friends and they're all a month or several months ahead of me right now. I've been thinking it was really easy for me with Scarlet. I've been thinking it's really easy for my friends. I've been slowly learning it isn't true. The middle and end of my pregnancy with Scarlet were quite wonderful. The beginning was fearful and snowy and icy and queasy. It passed. It's easy from this end of things to forget how hard it was. It was nowhere near the levels of tragedy and suffering I referenced above. It's a different level. It's a happy occasion that is marked with a hard beginning. For most. When I finally get around to talking with my further-along friends, I hear their horror tales of fear and morning sickness and fatigue and anxiety. It's not easy for them either. Their days have been long and painful and nauseating and anxiety-ridden too.

I wanted this. I planned this. It's amazing and I'm blessed and overwhelmed with good feelings. But there's still the end of fall to get through. There's still winter to get through. There's still the fact that I feel like I have mono all the time!

Every day is filled with pitfalls and obstacles. The smell of this, the thought of that, Scarlet peeing on the floor, the 3:00-5:00 pm slump, the fear of pregnancy loss, the darkness, the hunger, the thirst. Oh, the thirst.

One foot in front of the other. Painfully slow days. We all want time to pass slowly and time is passing slowly for me. Yet, it's passing. Every night is a gift of a day over, a day closer to this baby. And then time will speed right back up for me!

I forgot how it feels to feel consistently normal and not like a Mack truck hit me. Yes, I chose this. That doesn't mean I'm not having a hard time sometimes. I enjoy every non-suffering day and those non-suffering minutes of suffering days. I know this particular load will get lighter and I'll stand tall on the other side. Time will fly again.

It just made me think. It's not easy. We all just get through to the glorious other sides of our personal sufferings, eventually, because we have to. That doesn't mean every second on the clock isn't watched all the while. Isn't hard all the while.

Baby Blues.

I'm not embarrassed to admit that I love the Nicolas Cage movie, "The Family Man." In it, he plays a rich and lonely man who gets to live through an extended "glimpse" of what his life would have been had he chosen the love of his life rather than his career. In the "glimpse" life he is a family man, working class, with two children. His mind is still on his other life. At first.

Then he starts to fall in love with his phantom kids and the phantom glimpse of what his soulmate would have been like as his wife. And his precocious daughter, who previously spent their glimpse time together thinking he was an unfeeling alien from another planet is one of the first to notice when he starts to fall in love with her, while they're playing in the snow.

"You're back," she says. "It's you again."

Makes me cry.

I felt that way a few weeks ago on a day we had a photo shoot/playdate with our old neighbors in our old yard. The day was warm and mild for November and the two two-year-olds played in the leaves and grass while we laughed and photographed them. I had no choice but to sink to my knees in the grass and play with them. I felt light. As I sat there, Scarlet ran full force into me, hugged me hard around the waist and looked deeply into my eyes. She didn't say it aloud but I knew what she was thinking:

"You're back," she said. "It's you again."

How long had it been since I'd been there been there. Maybe not long. Maybe only a blink of an eye, but to a two-year-old, time is longer.

Early pregnancy is just the pits. It's such a lonely and isolating time for me. I'm often not feeling well and I'm not as socially active as I usually am but until last week, I couldn't tell people why. I sometimes came across as having depression, and honestly, it doesn't seem much different than that. Walking around like a zombie, feeling scared and unsure, sleeping all of the time. Then add in the low, short light of November and December, the rush of cold air, and the adjustment of moving and you can imagine it's been no picnic. The worst thing has been not being able to write about it here. I've been able to better document every other life change except this one. At least, until now. I confess I now feel a freedom and lightness I didn't think was possible only weeks ago. I had been writing about everything except the obvious glaring thing in the middle.

I threw hints out here and there and many of you caught them. In my Halloween post I wrote about how I wasn't feeling well enough to go to the town trick-or-treat, the week after Halloween. And most people who know me, who know that successfully covering Halloween was in our freakin' wedding vows knew I wouldn't miss Halloween for much. I wouldn't miss it for a normal illness, I'll tell you that. I wouldn't miss it for anything except keeping another baby safe and protected.

At the end of that same post, I wrote, "Next year will be so much better. In so many ways."

That was my hint for you eagle-eyed ones.

A little history. I'm 11 weeks now, and though most wait until 12 weeks to tell the world, I just couldn't make the wait. I found out I was pregnant when I was 3 1/2 weeks. It seems like an eternity ago. I hated knowing so early because with Scarlet, I didn't find out until six weeks and that helped a lot. The extra three weeks this time were torture. I felt the whole time like it could go away in an instant, and honestly, it could have. I feared a chemical pregnancy. Most people never know they're pregnant that early and since a high number of pregnancies don't make it, things progress as normally and they get their periods and they never know about that brief moment in which they were pregnant.

I was so, so scared. Alas, this little "fig" (how big the baby is at 11 weeks) decided to stay.

Being 11 weeks is a relief but there is still a long way to go. I'm just so grateful I can talk about it here, finally. No more reading between the lines. Just straight talking, which is what you know I like to do best.

Twilight Zone.

She was unsure before we got out of the car. Scarlet is rarely unsure. I unbuckled her from her carseat and held her in my arms and she clung to me, her overgrown nails digging into my sides. We walked the path to the doorstep and I raised my arm to knock, but the door was answered before I could. Then we smiled, said hello, and stepped into The Twilight Zone.

When we were making plans to move out of our Chapel Street condo, we were able to find a new tenant to live there. Or rather, the new tenant found us. It's our good friend's mom who moved to the Pioneer Valley from Buffalo, NY and needed a nice place to live. Our condo was/is a very nice place to live. It made us happy and we knew it would do the same for her.

In all my life, I've never gone back to a former home when it was already occupied by someone else. Recently, I stood on that last day, eating Chinese food with a coat on because the open door let all of the cold in and the furniture had all been taken. Pregnant. Exactly how it was that first night we moved in before the heat kicked in - eating Chinese food in a coat on the floor because our furniture hadn't arrived yet. So it was like history repeating itself. It looked exactly how it had the day we arrived and I was acting exactly how I had the day we arrived. History had come full circle. It wasn't until I got an email from the new tenant that she had some of our mail that I realized I had never been back to a previous residence before.

I didn't necessarily have the time or energy to over think this trip. I just needed my mail. It wasn't until I saw Scarlet's intrigued/terrified face when we walked in the door of our old home, the only home she ever knew, that this might be a significant trip for a two-year-old. What it signified, I have no idea. I can't even begin to comprehend if she knew where we were and for how long two-year-olds retain memories. From her shocked expression, I think she knew. She gazed at everything and clung to me like a monkey. It wasn't until we walked to the far living room and looked out the window at the nearly unchanged yard that she laughed in delight and recognition. She snapped back to life after minutes of pure shock.

"I...I have to pee!" We were welcomed to use the upstairs bathroom, the bathroom in which Scarlet was bathed and potty trained in. Where I held her in her hooded owl towel day after day, month after month. She peeked into her old nursery, now a very attractive and "grown-up" guest room with beautiful wood furniture and handmade quilts. She peeked quietly into her parent's old bedroom, now with a bed on the opposite side of the room. She no longer seemed at all upset or bothered.

It was strange for me too, as well as a nice kind of closure to see the happiness that our old condo brought a new tenant and to see how quickly Scarlet was able to process her surroundings and be ok with them. I don't remember being two at all. I remember being three. So much of what Scarlet is going through will not be remembered. But actions and places that are repeated, consistently and strongly, must be taking permanent residence in her memory banks. She visited the place she arrived to as a dependent newborn and walked out of (all by herself!) as a potty-trained, opinionated two-year-old. And her whole range of emotions lasted maybe...twenty minutes. Tops.

After we visited the condo, we did some errands and Scarlet fell asleep for about an hour. She woke up when we were pulling into our driveway.

Scarlet: "We're home! This is our new house."
Me: "Yes! And we visited our old house too. Do you remember?"
Scarlet: "Yes."
Me: "How did visiting our old house make you feel?"
Scarlet: (long pause) "It made me feel...happy."

Could it really be that simple? Maybe. Probably.