It's hot and everybody stinks

I don't know why it is, but somehow the first week of school with students is invariably hotter than hell. We're suffering through a heat wave 'round these parts - 90 degrees or hotter by noon. And what do you think happens to the AC at our school every damn time there's a heat wave? You guessed it, my friend. It conks out and blows hot air into our classrooms relentlessly. Classrooms that are filled to capacity with 32, 33, 34 students. Students who have, more often than not, just come from PE.

It's nauseating. 8th graders don't always smell that great to begin with.

We don't have AC at all at home, so when I get through with work, it only gets worse for me. Dessa runs hot like I do and we have sort of come to loathe touching each other, even though we both crave it. After much fussing, she falls asleep on my chest, all pink-cheeks and damp hair, and I sit as still as possible on the couch feeling sweat pool in my bra. After an hour or so, I have to peel the baby off me - it's just too much to stand no matter how much I love her.

The heat is supposed to drop a bit this weekend, none too soon for me. I should really consider moving to a colder place, although every place I thought of (Canada, Minnesota, Maine, Alaska...) has worse summers than we do. Possibly I should consider changing hemispheres - when it's summer here it's winter in Australia, right?

I know I sound drastic but I'm feeling slightly desperate. Last night the baby was fussing and fussing and FUSSING because she hadn't napped sufficiently (damn heat) and she was uncomfortable and way overtired. Finally I simply had to hand her over to Dave and go take a shower. I couldn't stand myself anymore - do you know how disgusting it is when it's 90 degrees out and you have baby puke on your shirt all afternoon? It's pretty disgusting.

We're looking forward to the long weekend ahead. Dave's planning to do some house cleaning and we're going to a BBQ on Sunday. The weather is supposed to be milder so things are looking up. Just a few more hours and I'm free for three glorious days.

Have a great Labor Day, all!
Posted by GoddessKristin on 08/31/07 at 10:31 AM [link]

She's Our Lottery

Something I didn't expect about being married is just how long a shared joke can endure. A somewhat clever thing that would have entertained you and your boyfriend for a week or even a month... well, when you find the one, that thing becomes a touchstone that you come back to over and over. The difference between a short term relationship and the love of your life may simply be how deeply you make these connections and how willing you are to revisit them.

A long standing joke between Dave and I has to do with the California lottery. Dave has, over the years, become the designated purchaser of lottery tickets. Neither of us is much for gambling, and neither of us is the type to plan a future based on the luck of the draw, but likewise both of us are smart enough to understand the "give me a break, buy a ticket" wisdom.

(Are you unfamiliar with this one? OK, here goes: A pious man prays to God every night, "Please God, I'm a good person and I do good deeds. I ask not for myself but for those I could help - let me win the lottery." A week goes by and the man doesn't win the lottery. The next week he begs again, "Dear God I would only do right with the money - let me win the lottery" but to no avail, he doesn't win. The third week he prays again - "Oh Lord, why do you deny me, a good man? I beg of you to let me win the lottery!" and suddenly a voice bellows from the heavens, "Gimme a break! Buy a ticket!")

I don't want to be that guy, so we play a buck a week. Or thereabouts - sometimes we forget to buy the ticket. Then we have nobody to blame but ourselves.

In any case, we play the same numbers every week. Our birthdays, our anniversary, personal numbers... and 9 as the bonus number because that's how long it takes to have a baby (we've been playing the same numbers since long before I was pregnant). They are good numbers, sweet numbers and while I don't believe they're magical, I like them because we picked them together and they represent hope and the future for us.

The one thing they aren't is lucky numbers. We've never won even $5 on them. Hope and the future, indeed.

The actual joke comes in because every time Dave mentions that we didn't win, I wearily remind him that he was supposed to buy the winning ticket and why didn't he just ask for the winning ticket for God's sake?

Look, I never said it was a good joke. I just said it was one we come back to over and over. He plays the numbers we picked, they lose, I tease him about his poor purchasing skills. Married life is made of this stuff.

Last night Dave and I were talking about this and that and of course we got around to discussing the baby. Now, it took quite a while for us to even decide to try for a baby, and then it took a year (and a miscarriage) before we had a pregnancy stick. The whole 9 months felt like a tightrope act for me, I was so nervous about it all. Often when I look at Dessa I think about how improbable she is. How amazed I am to have her, to be a mother at all... that she is here. My own daughter.

There was a time when I wasn't at all certain that I would ever be in this place. And now that I am, I feel profound gratitude to Dave for his help in getting here. Not simply his genetic contributions but the chance he took to start a family. It wasn't an easy decision; it took a gigantic leap of faith.

And so I thank him from time to time, because I do feel grateful and I think he should know that I know what a gift it all is. And I thanked him last night because I was feeling particularly emotional (it was Sunday night. A new work week started today. You want to make something of my emotionally fragile state?)

In response, he told me about how much he liked the whole fatherhood thing, and that he was maybe a little sorry we'd waited so long. To which I pointed out that I wasn't sorry at all. "If we'd tried earlier we would have had a different baby and I like this one," I said.

He looked at her thoughtfully. "She's our lottery," he said.

I may never tease him about buying the wrong ticket again.

Posted by GoddessKristin on 08/27/07 at 07:09 PM [link]

Week's End

Well, today is Friday and thank God for it. It's been a long week; longer than I could imagine. I've managed not to cry this morning, but it's not even 8 am yet, so there's time.

Monday was the worst. I cried when I got up. I cried as I fed Dessa her breakfast. I cried in the car on the way to my Mom's. I cried handing her over and getting in the car. I lost it completely when the radio played "In My Daughter's Eyes" (I had to take Mom's car to work because she doesn't have a car seat base installed yet so she needed my car. Mom listens to country music, hence the unfortunate timing of the song on the radio). I was a wreck all morning and then I called Mom to see how the baby was doing and in another tremendous bit of unfortunate timing, of course she was having her mid-morning screaming meltdown just as I phoned. So guess what I did.

You got it. I cried.

Mom called me back 5 minutes later and Dess was fast asleep so I was mollified, but I'm here to tell you it was a hard day.

Tuesday was a little better. Oh I cried, make no mistake. I cried at home, I cried in the car, I cried at Mom's... but I didn't cry at work. Progress.

On Wednesday I cried at home and at Mom's, but nowhere else. Except when I got home, of course I cried because... I've cried every afternoon at home, to be honest. Not a lot, not extensively, but... yeah.

Yesterday I barely cried as I left the house, so I really feel like I'm adjusting to this whole thing. And today I haven't cried at all. Of course, it's Friday so I know I have the weekend to look forward to. Talk to me Monday morning. I may be part of the tissue brigade again.

The upside of the week is that Dess has slept very well at night, though she's fought like a tiger to get there at times. Things started out promisingly, because we'd had a very busy weekend. Last Friday we'd gone to Berkeley for tattoos, which took the vast majority of the day. Dessa was a champ hanging out at the tattoo place but there was a lot of stimulation and then we'd gone to Mom's for a knit night. She was already tired when on Saturday my mother-in-law and brothers-in-law were over to see her and I made dinner. More stimulation for her but she actually let us all eat dinner at the same time! She sat in her little swing and just looked around during dinner happily. A very good girl! On Sunday we'd had a big group of folks over for dinner and again Dessa was just an angel but it was loud and warm and she was really overstimulated so she slept hard.

Then Monday morning I changed her schedule all around so I could go to work. Generally I let her wake up on her own time and eat when she wants to, but unfortunately we've had to change that. She has to go on a bit of a schedule now, which I worried about because I'm not a huge fan of scheduled eating for little babies. It's a personal philosophy that worked over the summer and that I liked. But, circumstances change, so we had to change too.

She'd slept all through the night easily and I actually had to wake her up at 6:30 to eat before we headed to Mom's. It's been like that all week. Dessa seems to have put herself on a schedule that works for her. I kick it off by getting her up at 6:30, she eats, goes to Mom's and sleeps some more. She eats around 10:30 and then again around 2:30 and I pick her up by 3:30. We go home and play and she eats again around 5:30 or so, and then for the last time at 9:15 when she conks out for the night. Her only problem this week has been that she doesn't want to nap between the time I pick her up and the time that she goes to bed for the night, which is a long stretch and has resulted in a bit of hysteria around 7 pm each night. We're working on it.

All in all, we're doing OK in these parts. We're adjusting. I'll never like having to leave her, but I'm surviving. I knew this would be harder on me than on Dess, and of course it is.

Oh there's one other thing that started this week. Dessa laughed for the first time last evening with me. I found a ticklish spot and she just went goofy. She has this fantastic laugh that just bubbles out of her and I've been trying to make her laugh constantly now. I guess if my baby starts laughing the same week I have to go back to work, she's not suffering. That's actually comforting.

I'll still never really like it though. When's Thanksgiving break again?
Posted by GoddessKristin on 08/24/07 at 08:16 AM [link]

End of an Era

My summer is quickly drawing to a close and it's all happening far too quickly. I've just gotten used to the rhythms and patterns of having a baby in my life and in just a few short days I have to go back to work. On Monday, to be exact. It's unbelievable to me.

I don't know how I'm going to do it, to be honest. I'm leaving Dessa in the best possible hands - my mother's - but still. It's not a matter of who I'm leaving her with. It's the fact of leaving her at all that has me crying daily and fighting off panic attacks. How can I leave my 11 week old daughter with anyone? My 11 week old daughter. What sort of mother does that?

Most mothers, actually. This much I know. The vast majority of us don't have the luxury of staying home with our children. And I thank heaven for my mother because if we had to pay for day care I don't know what we'd do. I'd basically be going to work to pay for day care, which is going to work to pay for the privilege of going to work. Which makes no sense.

I have to admit to a certain amount of jealousy on my part. My mom stayed home with my sister and I. She chose to stay at home with us and it was a possibility for her. And now she gets to stay home with her granddaughter but I have to leave. And I don't want to, in any way. I'm so afraid of the things I'll miss. Every day Dessa does new things and amazes me more and I'm so scared that the bond we have is going to suffer because I'm not going to be there.

When I tried to explain this to Dave, when I told him, "I hate having to give her up" he pointed out that I wasn't giving her up for adoption. It's possible Dave thinks I am melodramatic. He may be right in some circumstances but I assure you that in this one I am spot on the correct dramatic level. However, I will concede that he's right; I'm not handing over the baby never to see her again. I'm actually in a good position, being a teacher, since I'll get home with plenty of time to spend with her. It's not like a corporate job where I'd pick her up at 6 pm and have an hour and a half before I was getting her in bed or anything. There are positives.

But I'm just not in a mood to look on the bright side right now. The fact is that on Monday morning things change. I have to adjust to that and I don't want to. I want to be able to look at my baby any time I want, to pick her up and hold her close whenever I feel like it, to kiss her warm little cheek and stroke her softer-than-clouds skin when I need to. To know she's OK by seeing, holding, feeling it for myself instead of by a phone call.

I'll manage, I know. It's not that I think this will break me. The hardest part about it may simply be that it doesn't break me into a thousand pieces. Because who, honest to God, who in their right mind would willingly hand this over and walk away for an instant?

Posted by GoddessKristin on 08/18/07 at 01:11 AM [link]

She Was Always Thus

Remember this?

That's Dessa in utero at about 24 weeks gestation.

This is her last week:



Please note that I did not stage her for this picture. I set her in the Boppy and this is how she settled in. Funny how some habits are set so early, isn't it?
Posted by GoddessKristin on 08/10/07 at 06:51 PM [link]

Field Report

To: Home Office
Re: 2 month check in

Agent 05312007-0714 reporting

Greetings and salutations. This report covers the Earth period known as May 31, 2007 to the current date.

Overview
Current living conditions are satisfactory. Agent 05312007-0714 (heretofore referred to as "I" or "me") resides with adult human female 1 (by self reference known as "Mommy") and adult human male 1 (self referenced as "Daddy"). This unit, known as a "family" appears to also include three small, skittish, furry creatures called "cats" and a large, enthusiastic, but oafish creature known as a "dog". The dog acts as an alarm system and companion to the adult humans. The purpose of the cats is undetermined at this time.

Daily routines are sketchy at best. It is impossible for me to determine why this is the case. It may be due to a deficiency of the humans but may well be attributable to my expected Assignment Adjustment Period. The humans don't seem to know either. They are no help in this area, though they make valiant efforts.

While my needs are being met (and occasionally exceeded - see "Clothing" addendum, attached to this report), service could be improved. My pre-programmed crying subroutine prompts correct response by the humans, but it often takes an unacceptable number of attempts on their part. I have contacted customer service in an attempt to refine the crying subroutine so that it consistently communicates my needs, but to no avail. I suspect the problem is due to inexperience on the part of the humans and is not correctable at this time.

Progress Report
As of this time, I am pursuing the following target goals:

1) Sleeping through the Earth time known as "night". This time period is characterized by a lack of natural light and the repeated utterances of "Go to sleep, my God, would you just go to sleep already?" by both "Mommy" and "Daddy". Success has been achieved in this area in the past, though I have been backsliding recently and have been waking up for sustenance at least once a night for the past week. Causes, again, are unclear but may be attributable to the phenomenon referred to as a "growth spurt".

2) Controlling appendages. These include arms, hands and legs. Virtually no progress to report in this area. I occasionally grasp an item within reach but am forced to admit that these events are completely random and totally accidental.

3) Responding to human interaction. Moderate progress has been attained here. The humans are delighted when I move my mouth into smiling position in response to their attempts to amuse me. Admittedly, their attempts are primitive but I do find some satisfaction with their entertainments and dole out smiles when appropriate. Frankly they're not that funny though, and I use great caution in rewarding them. It is hoped that the humans become more entertaining, and quickly, because if they do not the duration of my assignment is going to be extremely tedious.

Advisories
A word of caution to future agents. Be advised that the device known as "Baby Bjorn" acts as a soporific; please be extremely cautious when confronted with this device. Despite heroic attempts to resist, I have on numerous occasions been knocked into complete unconsciousness when the aforementioned "Mommy" uses it. The "Baby Bjorn" appears to liberate "Mommy's" hands and allows her to accomplish tasks such as typing, cleaning and cooking. As such it is in direct opposition to my assignment. Widespread use of this device could endanger our Great Mission to overtake Earth via inactivity caused by never being able to put us down. Immediate study is required in this area. Until an antidote is discovered, if an agent is presented with the "Baby Bjorn", evasive action is recommended. Voiding the bowels is particularly effective, though admittedly only a temporary solution.

Conclusion
I am adapting as well as can be expected and am forming bonds with humans "Mommy" and "Daddy". Trust has been established and tentative communication is being attempted. The humans appear to be trainable and I have every expectation that continued success in my overall goals will lead to further growth and expansion of my abilities. No further action on the part of the Home Office is required at this time. Updated field reports will be provided as needed.

End communication.
Posted by GoddessKristin on 08/06/07 at 01:02 PM [link]

Spinning My Wheels

I can't sleep.

I knew it would come to this.

The morning Dessa was born, after the blood and stitches and phone calls, after I made sure everyone else had held her because everyone else had sacrificed something - sleep or sanity or both - after my mom and sister had gone home for a rest, after I was put back together but before I could feel my nether regions, after Dessa had her first bath, one of the nurses handed my naked but diapered daughter to me and had me hold her skin to skin.

It was the first totally focused bonding time we had and it was powerful. I took my baby in my arms, set her on my chest, felt her relax and I had the strongest, clearest understanding of a concept that I've ever had. I looked at my brand new baby and I thought, "I will never sleep again."

This wasn't meant to be funny. For once, I wasn't being snarky or trying to be clever. I wasn't thinking of cliche colicky sleepless nights or midnight feedings. It wasn't a matter of, "Oh Lordy! What did I get myself into? Here's my baby and babies mean nobody sleeps! Bummer!"

It wasn't cute. I was, frankly, overcome with terror. How could I ever sleep again? How could I let my guard down for one second? Anything could happen in one second. Anything and everything. I was completely unprepared for the hugeness of motherhood. It's bigger than anything.

The responsibility of it is overwhelming, sure. And the responsibility is a lot of the emotion - what if I screw up? What if I turn my attention to the cats, the dog, the dirty carpets, a rerun of the "X-Files" for just a second and Something Bad Happens? In my mind, Dess has fallen off every surface in the house including those I cannot reach without a ladder (so why is she on those surfaces in my mind? Because my mind is insane). And what if I'm not talking/reading/singing/ensuring enough tummy time? What should I be doing at any given time that I'm not doing? Wait! I can come up with at least five things! How will I know if I'm doing something, anything, everything wrong?

The only way to know is if, in the future, something is wrong with Dessa and then we can look in hindsight at how I screwed up... and I can't take that chance.

So there's that.

But it's more than Responsibility. It would be too easy to say that I worry only about The Responsibility of Motherhood. I do - who wouldn't? But the real thing I worry about, the thing that keeps me awake long after I should be asleep, the thing that makes it so that I can't nap no matter who has the baby...
it's a deep and complete fear that I'm not enough. That no matter what I do, no matter how good I am, how vigilant, how many books I read... it's never going to be enough.

And it's the knowledge that I'm right.

Because there never is enough. I have spent hours and hours and hours trying to come up with every contingency, every need, every action I should take to ensure a perfect life for my daughter. And I know I can't do it because it's humanly impossible to think of everything or to do everything. There is no perfect life. It's knowing that I brought this person into the world knowing that the world was completely imperfect and how could I subject this person who I love more than anything, ever, to that??

And so I'm awake in the dead of the night despite the fact that Dessa has been asleep for hours and I haven't gotten more than 4 hours sleep any night this week. I should be asleep. Any sane person would be asleep.

But I just can't stop thinking about this exchange from "Finding Nemo".

Marlin: I promised I'd never let anything happen to him.
Dory: Hmm. That's a funny thing to promise.
Marlin: What?
Dory: Well you can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him. Not much fun for little Harpo.
Posted by GoddessKristin on 08/04/07 at 01:44 AM [link]