Week 33- Babymoon

Babymoon

It's a trip you are meant to take before the baby comes and turns your world inside out and upside down.  Originally we wanted to cruise Alaska- but missed the deadline by a month.  So we opted for Palm Springs instead- the land of bad highlights and pastels.  Fortunately for us we were able to kill two birds with one stone and introduce Tim to my real father- The Bryson Wallace (yes- Scottish and a descendant of Braveheart) and his charming wife Judy who were out from Kayesville, Utah visiting Judy's Uncle Mel.  We had dinner with them on Friday night and not only was it one of the best steaks Tim or Bry had ever had- everyone really liked each other.  Phew.  This will be one of your fabulous sets of Grandparents, Pony.  You have a few, hence is the modern family.  But I think you will be pretty special to this Grandpa, as you are his own flesh and blood, and the only one he might ever have and you are a girl.  He's already talking about getting you your very own pink ATV for their cabin in Idaho.  If you are anything like me, you will love running mad dog through the puddles.  I scare myself on the jumps, but the puddles are pure fun.  

Saturday we spent the entire day relaxing by the pool, sipping virgin pina-coladas and strawberry margaritas, while getting messages and manicures.   Well, I got a manicure, not your Papa.  Here we are:

This is you in my belly catching some rays.

this is your papa hiding in the shadows.

Back to reality can be brutal sometimes.  Monday was hard.  Tuesday was a little better.  I think tomorrow just might kick ass.  I'm so tired these days.  And you have been kicking sideways, I think.  You are getting quite creative.  I lose my breath very easily.  Then I find it again.  I want to write better right now so badly but I just don't think I have it in me.  I might have to abandon ship and call it a night. 

But I have so much I want to say and show you...my eyes and brain just aren't cooperating with me on this one.  I will end with this one last note- and pick up later where I am leaving off.  Your Papa and I were dream talking last night about how amazing it would be if I could actually take time off to raise you for at least a year, and in that time to really devote myself to writing and finishing another book.  Maybe even getting the first one published.  This was his idea.  Your Papa's.  See, he actually believes in me and my dream.  He believes in me more than I believe in myself.  And that, Pony, is PRICELESS.  I want you to hold out for that person in your life, because when you find that person, the one who loves you and sees you better than you can love or see yourself, that is gold.  Mine it and keep it everyday.  It is precious priceless perfect gold.  

Remember- Stay Gold Pony Girl.  Stay Gold.

Love a very brain tired mama who can't type anymore.

xx

me

Okay- what the hell just happened?  I was totally asleep when suddenly a wave of acid came silently and surreptitiously up my esophagus and out my nose, choking me, forcing me awake in a fit of coughing and wheezing with a burning sensation I'd never felt before.  I jumped up and ran into the kitchen where I projectile vomited into the sink, water and calcium magnesium, that was it.  

Ahhh...the joys of pregnancy.   

The trick with this little event was that I had no warning, no burning in the pit before bed, no burping, no nothing. The silent killer.  Acid Reflux.  Apparently I am not alone.  I just read on the internet about other pregnant women around 33 weeks experiencing the same exact thing.  Wow.  What a ride.  

I'm afraid to go back to sleep.  And I really need to sleep.  Suggestion was to sleep propped up at a 90 degree angle.  That should be fun.

I can hear Timothy lightly snoring in the other room.  He only does that when he's on his back.  How I wish I could crawl in next to him and wrap my arms around him.  Our doula asked me where my 'safe spot' was.  Meaning, where could I go to mentally when I needed to feel safe.  Is it in the woods by  a stream, floating in the ocean, or possibly in a cave?  No.  For me, it is lying next to your Papa, his arm wrapped around me, my head in the crook of his neck, with my leg on top of his body.  That is my safe spot.  I wish I could go there now.

But instead I am sitting in your room, on the bed we have in here for guests, looking at your empty changing table, awaiting all your diaper changing needs.  Papa put it together for us this weekend, when we returned from Palm Springs.  It's lovely and makes me so happy to see it standing there.  Next to it is a bright red birthing ball.  And next to that a hand-me-down glider with blue cushions.  I have a basket of stuffed animals for you next to the bed.  And am picking up a bookcase tomorrow for all your books.  You already have about ten.  A dresser in the corner is filled with clothes for you.  I am constantly amazed at the generosity of friends.  You will want not for clothing. At least not until you are almost 1 year old.  I'm a big fan of second hand clothes.  I see no reason to pay full price for something ridiculously over priced to begin with.  This began when I worked retail lifetimes ago.  In my early twenties I worked at Betsey Johnson.  Which was awesome for my wardrobe, but terrible for my budget.  All I did was buy clothes.  I looked cute, but I couldn't feed myself.  They made it too easy- 75% off for employees.  I sold them it all in various desperate fits over the years.  A travesty, truly.  For they were classic pieces I could of handed down to you instead.  Ahhh, the follies of youth.  I thought I knew everything at 18.  And what I have learned most is that I know very little today.  

Okay- eyelids are heavy, vomiting has stopped.  I think I can sleep.

Thank you for listening to me Pony.

Sweet dreams.  

Week 32- Another Turning Point

I feel time barreling down on us like a runaway freight train.  There is no normal anymore. There is only this surreal sort of time warp I feel like we are in, where moments last a lifetime and weeks are racing by.  Never in my life have I been so acutely aware of the physical limitations of my body at the same time in awe of the limits that this body seems to surpass.  My belly is beginning to reach unrealistic proportions that make Papa giggle with delight.  The tightness tingles and itches.  I make funny noises getting in and out of bed.  Forget about bending over to pick things up.  That is just a joke waiting to happen.  It took me almost twenty minutes to put on some knee high boots today.  I was sweating near the end, laying on my back.  I can't stand up, sit down, or lay down for any length of time.  It's constant movement.  Constant change.  Every morning a new adventure, every evening a new challenge;  will I sleep tonight?

The latest and greatest has been a new and fascinating ache in my hips.  It feels almost like the ligaments connecting my femurs to my hip sockets have given up, quite the scene, left the building.  I walk funny as a result.  I am careful about where I place my feet, as I don't trust my base.  Sometimes it looks like I am drunk again.  Scary thought that is.

The best advice today was to keep walking, uphill or upstairs, even when I don't want to.  To sit on a pregnancy ball and roll my hips.  To practice squatting with Papa while watching The Game of Thrones.  To see a chiropractor and an acupuncturist.  It was a lot of advice.  I'll take as much of it as I can.

I wish things didn't cost so much money.  I think holistic medicine should be free.  But then no one would want to practice it and then it would disappear.  I am not a fan of financial fear.  But things are uncertain at the Foundation these days so we must mentally prepare for the best and the worst that could happen.  At least I know today, right now, without a doubt, there is nothing to fear and we are well taken care of.  Your Papa is an incredible provider and father and husband, not to mention best friend and....oh, I won't talk about that here.

I have the best friends around me a girl could ever ask for.  I don't know how I did it, but I have amassed  a bevy of wisdom, beauty, talent, humor, intelligence, and depth coming to our baby shower next weekend that blows me away.  I am so honored and inspired by each and every woman that will be there.  It's a celebration of baby, and mom, and all things primitively feminine.  I wish your Papa could be there.  I really do.  I think he'd love to celebrate you with us.  But not all men were created like your Papa, so I opted for ladies only.

You move a lot, my little peanut.  I hope you are having fun in there.  Last night however, you pushed into my groin in such a way that it really hurt and I had to get up and walk it out.  Please try not to do that again.  I would really appreciate it.  I do want to thank you, Pony, so much, for moving your precious little head down.  It means so much to me that you did that.  It means we can potentially have an easy safe natural birth and I really want that for us.  I want to be bright eyed when I first look at you.  I want a clear head.  I want you to feel the same when you gaze up at us, your Mama and your Papa.  I bet we'll cry.  I wouldn't be surprised. We don't cry very easily, but I have a feeling this might be the time.

I gotta run now, Papa just came home and I want to squish him hard and lay in his arms.  He makes all the aches and pains disappear.

I can't wait to meet you little Pony girl.  I am falling madly in love with you.

xx
Mom

Lost the battle, but not the war.

It all started on Friday when I took Noodle the Labordoodle on a walk in our hood.  A couple of blocks away there is the steepest street in all of Los Angeles that is capped with a mountain of stairs taking you from Highland Park into the coveted Mount Washington.  It's a great workout- really gets your heart pumping.  When your Papa and I tried it a couple of weekends ago, I'm not trying to brag, but I basically killed it while he struggled up the steps.  I was really looking forward to having another go when half way up the street two stray dogs approached.  The old mangy brown one was obviously harmless, but not the female Pit Bull mix.  She wasn't harmless at all.  She immediately went for Noodle's neck, scaring the crap out of me and when I yelled she started to come at me.  Terrified I waved my arms and yelled as loud as I could, which backed her off for a moment, but then she came back at me.  I screamed as loud as I could, my adrenaline was pumping so hard, I'm sure you felt it Pony.  A couple of nice gentlemen came outside to see what was going on and tried to keep the bitch away but I think they were scared too.  So I grabbed Noodle and we went back down the hill with the dog following and me turning around every so often yelling at her to go away.  It scared the crap out of me and I think my Momma Tiger came out.  I wasn't going to let that dog get near us or Noodle.  I guess I did end up getting my blood going in the end, anyhow.  That's one way to get a workout.

Nothing against Pit Bulls, by they way.  I've had one myself and she was the best dog that ever lived, Luna.  I will never forget her as long as I live.

Saturday was great, went to Nanna's baby shower that evening and had so much fun.  Charla Pauley-Maxwell was there with a beautiful sun hat on and her sparkling smile.  Nanna is about to pop and is my pregnant buddy, her daughter is going to be named Willow.  I'm thinking of writing a children's book about The Adventures of Willow and Pony, illustrated by Nanna.  You will love her, She's Danish and loves the color grey.  

Then IT happened.  The Incident.  

We lost the battle, but have not lost the war.

Around 5am as I was drifting in and out of sleep I felt something crawl up the back of my head and over my face and when I finally realized what it was I brushed it off my cheek and jumped up screaming like a banshee.  Your Papa immediately jumped up too and turned on the light just in time for me to see this giant cockroach on my pillow rushing towards my legs.  I jumped off of the bed, still screaming, and pointing, with no words available to me, while Papa grabbed a tissue and squished the motherfucker to death.  He was my hero.  

So here is the deal, we don't have an infestation, we have a situation.  

We live next to an open field, which is awesome, because it's so quiet, and is not so awesome, because it has cockroaches living in it.  Big daddy ones with wings that sometimes take flight.  Our house is exterminated outside once a month and they basically only come inside to die.  I have found many on their backs, legs wiggling in the air, waiting to die.  I pretend that they are meditating with me sometimes, and then other times I just squish them and throw them away.  But crawling live ones are rare.  Lucky me.  

In the Art of War it says to know thy enemy.  I don't know if I want to know this enemy but I do know these experiences this weekend almost made me want to give up and become a hater of my hood and home, but I am not going to let one dog and one cockroach beat me.  I am fighting back!  With wisdom and compassion.  Two lethal weapons against fear and judgment.  My spiritual guide, Tracy, the wisest woman I know, reminded me of the way of the Dharma.  That I could roll over or stand up and embrace what feels unembraceable. Imagine if you will, the slums of Brazil, or India, or Mexico? I wonder how many cockroaches crawl over them in the middle of the night?  How many dogs they have to fight off in a single day?  Compassion.  It's a powerful tool.  

I am better and stronger than I think I am.  

I am lucky and loved beyond my wildest dreams.

I am safe, regardless of my fears.

I am a mother now and need to start acting like one.  

Happy Mother's Day.  I couldn't think of a better gift.

Other than maybe your Papa making me pancakes in my chicken apron.

Isn't he just the most handsomest man in the whole wide world? This was taken at the paint store where Sara Lov helped us pick out the precious lilac you'll see in your room.  She's really good at that sort of thing, as well as others, like singing.  

And lastly- I read another awesome book about baby raising.  This one is called Our Babies Ourselves by Meredith F. Small.

This one explored and explained the emerging science called Ethnopediatrics.  Basically, the culture of parenting.  Fascinating stuff!  The ideology and theory behind the similarities and differences between such seemingly disparate cultures as America and the !Kung San of Africa.  It really opened my eyes and helped me see that no way is necessarily completely 100% right or wrong however there is a basic biological argument for certain things, like co-sleeping, breastfeeding, and baby wearing.  After reading it I envisioned us wandering around Highland Park, half naked with you on my hip in a sling, breastfeeding at will, before retiring at night in one family bed until you left for college.  I don't know honey, I just don't see how this optimal biological system can work for us.  We live in a different reality from the !Kung San.  However, I am not so much a fan of the uber independent let's push them away from us as soon as possible so we foster this capitolist mentality in our children in America philosophy either.  There must be a balance.  I know there is, and between your Papa, you and I, we'll find it. 

Like your wise father said to me this weekend- as long as we love each other, respect one another, and try our best we'll be fine.

I think he's right.

I can be kind of a  freak about things sometimes.  Just letting you know.  Consider yourself forewarned, you little gymnast.  

I am getting more and more excited to meet you every day that passes.

Love,

Mom

Week 30

I read this quote the other day in one of my favorite baby books so far:  The Baby Whisperer

Tip: The true joy of parenting comes when we are empowered and can follow our own inner voice of guidance. Keep your eyes open, become informed; consider all options, all styles of parenting. Then make decisions about what is right for you and your family.

Bullseye.

 

I have a very important question for you, Pony Girl:  How do you feel about having two middle names? I'm feeling like I might want to add my middle name to your middle names so that you can take a little bit of me with you too out into the world.  It would go like this:

Pony Patricia Ambrose Husom

as opposed to 

Pony Patricia Husom

I don't know.  I am totally torn and can't decide.  It might be too much, too many names, and therefore more trouble than it's worth.  Or it might be just right . You gotta let me know.  Tell me in a dream or in meditation, okay?

I was given some pregnancy pj's by a dear friend the other day and have to say, I could live in these suckers.  Your Papa was quite fond of the pattern and lace trim and wanted me to pose for posterity's sake.  I think he's secretly hoping he can hide them after you are born somewhere where I shall never find them....

I am super duper tired slow and sensitive these days.  Work has been challenging for me to keep up with but that's okay because it all mellows out after this week. I feel tongue tied and mentally twisted up,  I can't believe the things I am forgetting and messing up.  It's horrible!  I also lost my ankles the other day. One day they were there and then the next, they were gone.  Replacing them are two puffy stumps that seem puffier by the day.  Oh well.  What are you gonna do?  Bring it on, I say!  I know how lucky I am to have you growing in my belly, not everyone gets to experience this amazing gift. 

I found what I think will be my next tattoo- after you are born, of course...

That's you and me

love 

love

love you

mom