Unwellness

the penguin

I still can't believe how much he mattered to me, that first baby. I can't believe how often I think of him or end up talking about him, usually because I am discussing something like pregnancy symptoms (I craved red meat when pregnant with the penguin but meat was mostly gross when pregnant with Beck, for example). I can't believe I still cry every time I hear the song Gabriel by Lamb. I have listened to it so many times that I have given him this middle name, Gabriel.

He had a first name, our tiny broken fetus. We didn't give it to him at the time. Certainly, as wrecked and destroyed as I was, I still didn't consider him any sort of full-fledged baby. A heartbeat. A tiny little heart. My tiny little heart. Baby potential. We didn't even think of naming him.

But when the pathology report came back and called him male, we named him, both of us, separately and silently. Months later, when we were ready to name the Beck, we admitted it to each other. We couldn't use that name because we had both used it in our heads for that baby, that first one, the penguin.

Tate. His name would have been Tate Patrick, for my uncle. Instead, he is an unbaby, my Tate Gabriel, not even something nameable, a cramp, a procedure, a memory of pain and a midwife holding my hand while a doctor pumped a machine, pumped the tiny curl of him out of me in the most wrong feeling moment of my life.

We make horrible jokes about him. Horrible, unbloggable ones.

Wes gets all caught up in this annoying logic about how we wouldn't have Beck if we had that other one and how he can't imagine any baby better. Well, duh. Of course there's no better baby. Of course we want Beck more than any other baby. I inevitably point out that we wouldn't KNOW Beck and we would love that baby just as much, you know, if it had been alive and healthy, because there would never have been a Beck to compare him to. But Wes just smiles and shakes his head, the closest he gets to proclaiming the existence of fate. He is happy with the way things turned out. Finding out that there was a trisomy turned the miscarriage into a 'for the best' situation. His sadness over the whole thing is more mind memory than body memory.

It is so physical, the whole experience of miscarriage. It is so different than the death of a loved one. There is a death, yes, the death of the potential of a person you would love. But there is also a trauma, a physical, bloody mess. Pain. No matter how it happens. It hurts.

I still feel angry. I still feel cheated. I still feel a giant hole in my heart.

I threw away the ultrasound picture of him.

evil queen

Not much by way of comments. I am pretty sure no one likes it when someone talks about how awesome they think they are. That's why I keep that sort of under wraps, the "rabid self-esteem"* I feel when I take a long, hard look at myself. By no means does this happen constantly. I doubt sometimes. I stare too long in the mirror and wonder about my thighs and whether they could ever be a different shape. I lately think I look awfully washed out and stringy in the face and hair departments and I chalk it up to mom-world and I dress up whenever I get the chance (I wore makeup(!) tonight for the reunion) and that gets me through the other, less attractive days. But I honestly think I look fine most of the time. And I don't care so much about how I look the rest of the time. The day gets going and other parts of me, inner parts like brains and nerves, are so obviously more important. Maybe I have to count the good body parts I have, throw all my faith and confidence into them, because there are so many other parts that don't do their jobs (I am talking to YOU, pain receptors! And YOU too, dopamine... or something. And YOU, spine, you slacker). I have to take the good where I can get it because if I focus too hard on the parts of me that don't work I will cry.

I had my eyebrows done yesterday and I had this exchange with Wes about them while admiring myself in the mirror after my shower:
Me: Do you like my eyebrows? They are kind of evil queen awesome, aren't they?
Wes: They're not as evil queen as when Ramy does them.
Me: (perking up) Really? Maybe I should go back to him.
Wes: You know, I always had a crush on the good queens, the nice characters.
Me: But you didn't want to sleep with them.

The reunion was tonight and went well. Beck slept through half and then woke up, was quite discombobulated seeing that it was after his usual bedtime, looked around, fussed a bit and then we left and he slept on the subway. He was a happy, crazy baby once we got home ("wheeee! I get to watch Lost! And what an episode!") and then went to bed quickly and easily. We will see if the schedule disruption has any lasting effects. Anyway, there were about 3 people I knew there so I mostly talked to my sister and her girlfriend and ate an incredible number of outstanding hors d'oeurvres like tiny tiny grilled cheese sandwiches and tiny tiny tiny little creamy arugula pie pieces. They were adorable. I can't even begin to do them justice with a description. Oh, and I talked to 2 of my high school teachers and showed them the baby, even though he was also featured in this month's alumni newsletter. I like a little overkill with my showoffedness.

Tomorrow, the Notorious Crazy Uncle Zach will be visiting. The corruption starts now.

I just went searching in my archives for some post about C.U.Z. and the time he got drunk and slept in our hallway so as not to wake our kid. I couldn't find it but started reading all these posts from late 2005. And, as always, I feel that I was a much better writer then and that those posts were so much more intelligent. And there were WAY more comments. And some of them were from BOYS. Now it's just The IVP and most of us are on bloglines or googlereader and no one fricking comments on anything. I include myself.

I am thinking of putting forth some sort of comment challenge. Or test, really. I wonder what would happen to everyone's comments if we went back to clicking and seeing the actual blogs. I may just set up a week in honor of non-blog-lining.

Anyway, I don't worry too much about this phenomenon (the way I always think my old writing is better) because it has ALWAYS been that way. I know that I will look back at these posts in a few years and think they are fine or good or great. Maybe more fine, given the sleep deprivation and mind-numbing tedium of my days. But whatever.

Here's a bonus random fact about me that I thought of while in the shower last night:
When I was little, I used to get in trouble at school for sharpening my pencil too often. I CAN.NOT.STAND. a dull pencil. Even a little dull. I get a physical reaction, a shiver and goosebumps, when I write with a dull pencil. Or when someone near me does. I also get this reaction when I have to tear paper from other paper (like the cardboard back of something encased in plastic), or open a certain brand of tea bag. Or write with chalk (not just the squeaking noise). I am actually getting goosebumps right now just writing about these things. Just thinking about dull pencils makes me convulse with shivers. Anyway, I don't know if it was a teacher who suggested it or my mom who thought of it but mechanical pencils were introduced and saved my life. Not the kid kind with their thick, dull lead. No, the grown-up kind that architects and fancy computer people use. My mom would bring them home from work (at In.tel) and they changed my life.

It's technically the 29th now but this is obviously not my loss post. I will work on that tomorrow, as per Calliope's instructions.

* points to anyone who can tell me what children's book that phrase comes from
PS. My eyebrows don't really look like that. Don't worry.

day of memes

oneofhismoms tagged me over at momtourage

So here are the rules for this little one.

1. Grab the nearest book of 123 pages or more.
2. Open it to page 123.
3. Find the first 5 sentences and write them down.
4. Then invite 5 friends to do the same.

They seemed to brim with life and yet remain unreachable. It was this contradiction between a strong surge of aliveness and a sense of being cut off from human contact that struck me as being at the root of the crisis. This conflict expressed itself in various ways. He had a deep need for intimate contact with others, but then could not handle it. He often snuggeld up to me and took great pleasure in this physical closeness. (But after a little while his pleasure turned to anxiety and he would laugh nervously, before gleefully hitting me.)
- A Free Range Childhood: Self-Regulation at Summerhill School by Matthew Appleton

This was an easy one since I am literally sitting on books. My couch is covered in them since our shelves were being finished today. This passage seems somehow fitting, at least the part about being cut off from human contact. That is life with a baby in winter, it seems.

I tag Jennifer at Arcane Matters, Jennifer at Childside, Jen at Addition Problems, (I will also tag Jenny at Probably Boring Ramblings for the sake of completeness, but she has a newborn), and lazygal. And any other Jennifers or librarians. And complicatedmama, since she so kindly tagged me with this next one.

-------------------------
It's the 6 things about yourself meme. I needn't really put up the instructions, right?

1. I hold on to the moments when I say something stupid or hurtful. I mean, like, forever. I hash them over and hate myself for them. Once I said something mean about meanmama's stomach and I will never be able to forget it. That is just one example. I can't pull them all up at will but they come, unbidden, at night when I am trying to fall asleep. Then I remember things that have slipped out of my mouth from childhood through now. Just a few weeks ago I said something about my relief at never having to throw another baby shower even though there was a woman in the room who is silently suffering some big infertility crap and I would probably be involved in throwing her a shower if she chose to try and succeeded. I am having quite a time getting over that one. But it is one of many. I relish beating myself up. Which reminds me of the time in high school when I hit my friend Meghan with a hairbrush too hard trying to be funny. See? It's a long string of Bad Things I Did For Which I Will Never Forgive Myself.

2. Perhaps related to that last one, I will remember every stupid or hurtful thing YOU say in front of me, too. Whether it is said to me or to another person, I will judge you in my head for being mean.

3. I was going to write that I have simultaneously low and high self esteem. But I can't think of any examples of the low part. I bet Wes can help me out on that. The high bit is easier, though. I seriously think the world of myself. I have bad days but underneath my whining, the truth is I think I am pretty fabulous. I think I am smart and witty and OK-looking bordering on cute and occasionally sexy. I think I am actually smarter than most people and consider my areas of weakness or disinterest (fractals, infinity, physics, spacial relations, dinosaurs, how the universe began, etc) to be unimportant - they must be if they don't interest me. I have never had a real body image problem. When I decided to diet a few years back it was honestly rooted in my desire not to be larger than the sizes Old Navy carries. Simple as that. It would be inconvenient for me to have to shop elsewhere. I won't say I was thrilled with myself at my largest, but I had a lot of sympathy for myself most days and felt quite in control of changing what I didn't like. I wish like crazy that I could figure out what my parents did to make me have no eating disorders and to genuinely think mostly good things about myself. I would so do the same for the Beckster.

4. It is ridiculously easy to disappoint me. Anyone who doesn't read my mind at all times will eventually disappoint me. I am currently disappointed in: the IVP for not agreeing to go on the 1 day cruise that I haven't even asked them about, all sorts of old friends on facebook for not private messaging me even though I haven't written them either, and Wes for surely countless other things. He is used to it.

5. I eat the same food for weeks or months on end. There are usually 5-10 things I enjoy eating in any given time period and I eat them until I am sick of them. They may then rotate out of my repertoire for good or just for a little while. Current eating: grilled cheese sandwiches made in the Fore.man grill, frozen Amy's chili and cornbread or paneer masala, vanilla almond crunch cereal (a recent takeover after Puffins got old), vanilla almond Luna bars, macaroni and cheese (frozen or Annie's), organic 'duplex' cookies (like an oreo with one side chocolate cookie and one side vanilla cookie), string cheese, mini veggie corn dogs with dijon. All of these things are what I eat when left to my own devices. When I cook for Wes, it is more meal-like and involves vegetables.

6. I am really very much still in middle school in my head. When someone says we should 'get together' I snicker inwardly because that's what we called 'making out' in my junior high. I think a lot about who is most popular at work and why. Same for blogdom. I eat the same things over and over, as mentioned above, and they are all grown-up, semi-healthy, organic-ish versions of junk food.

-----------------------

Tomorrow is my high school reunion. Or, I should say, the NYC reunion for all years from my high school in San Francisco. The last time I went to one, 5 years ago, I saw my Evil Abusive Ex-Boyfriend there and was nice to his face and then wrote truly mean and scathing things about him on my blog. Which he promptly found. And then he berated me in my comments. Which I deserved. No matter how evil someone has been in the past, being libelous (slanderous?) doesn't really do any good. After that, I got better about not using my full name or my last name in blogdom and I don't think he found me again when I moved blogs. I wonder if he will be there.

I had this intensely productive day today, ignoring my slight cold and running errands all over the North Slope. Beck was a rockstar at my school when I went to turn in the contract (!) and charmed everyone and then promptly fell asleep in my arms. He stayed asleep in the stroller long enough for me to do everything else I needed to do and then woke up when we got in the car to go grocery shopping. And he was lovely for the whole rest of the day. I think he needs outings. Maybe it wasn't teething or a growth spurt the last few days. Maybe he was just sick of looking at me.

today the rain is washing it away but it was good while it lasted

phase

Thanks for all the advice on the bus dilemma. A rental car is a gazillion dollars cheaper but we will see if it is worth the hassle of going to get the car. We're bringing the car seat and deciding once we talk to the excursion people. I could easily discuss this for the rest of the week, weighing the pros and cons of each idea. Wes had already glazed over entirely and just yeses me when I try to discuss it. Seriously, though, these kinds of puzzles are why I love to travel. I am a freak.

So, question for anyone with a really lovely mellow baby who suddenly becomes grabby and needy and nurses like a fiend. Is it the shots last Wednesday? Is it the teeth hurting him? Is it a cold? Is it the 26 week growth spurt? What the eff is going on with my boy? He is seriously difficult all day and wants to be held constantly and fusses a whole whole lot. Not him at all. What to think? Doesn't seem like I need to call the doctor. Or do I? Just a phase?

Wes quote of the week

"I have an anti-skank policy."

an answer/a relief, a dilemma

Some sort of crazy cosmic woo-woo weirdness must have been going on when I freaked out on Friday about my job. Because that very day, a letter was being sent my way and it arrived today.

I AM STILL A LIBRARIAN!

I wept messy tears when I read this.

______________________________

We need to decide on the Disney idea and my mind is aswirl with gear and possiblities.
Here are the possibilities for the Florida stop:

1. Stay on the ship.

2. Go to some Disney park. Get there by bus, which may or may not have seat belts for the car seat. Hopefully the shore excursion people on board would know a more definitive answer. While at park, possibly store car seat in huge locker at Ticket and Transportation center but also face risk that lockers will be full given our arrival time. Probably have to use car seat and snap-and-go as stroller, which means scrunching the kid into old car seat all day which may or may not be unpleasant. Certainly seems we would not be able to use snazzy new stroller. Need to try Beck in old car seat with newly let-out straps to see if it's really all that bad. Not so thrilled because would rather not bring car seat at all on trip. Would like to use new snazzy stroller on board and this scenario suggests the necessity of bringing both new and snap-and-go on trip, ridiculously given stateroom size.

3. Go to some Disney park. Get there by town car, which costs only a bit more than the bus. Town car people would provide car seat meaning we could use snazzy stroller. Also means we would not have to bring car seat (or snap-and-go) on trip at all.

4. Rental car for the day? Need to investigate further. Might be able to rent car seat from company, too.

Am I not thinking of something brilliant?
Babies have a lot of STUFF.

doctors make you sick

This is the second time that a well visit to Beck's pediatrician has resulted in a house full of sick. Beck is snotty and coughing and I have a sore throat and headache (and my fibro is acting up still, so I am a world of happy, as you can imagine).

NYC real estate is so much at a premium that no one around here has sick and well waiting rooms so we are all on top of each other. But this time, for the 6 month visit, I was so careful! I didn't sit down in the waiting room until it was empty (we were the last appt of the day). I Pur.elled my hands a few times. I tried to keep him from touching anything but admittedly this was almost impossible. I know his hands came in contact with the table under the paper and he actually tried to eat the doctor's stethoscope while it was being used on him (ahhh, teething). Still, I was surprised when we came down with something a day or two later.

So. Do I switch peds? Does everyone get sick when they go to the ped in the winter? I am not sure what to do. Fortunately, his next visit is at 9 months and it won't be winter anymore.

a terrifying moment

This morning I was sitting in the living room with Beck and pondering the lovely new shelves which are complete enough to begin putting books on. My books. My books which have been in boxes for nearly a year. I missed them so much.

So I was thinking about where to put the various Dewey categories - the 900's (History and Travel) in the shelves above the TV, the 100's (Wes' philosophy stuff) on the way up high very top... and then... it happened.

I could not, for the life of me, remember what the 700's were. It took a solid ten minutes before it came back to me. I just kept thinking '793... I know that is a big number with my kids... 793 means something... important....'. It's Arts and Recreation, fyi. Sports is in there, which is where my students frequently flock.

PLEASE, please let me get my job back. I am losing my librarian-ness! It is apparently being sucked out (along with my brain) through my boobs.

I find out next month if I get a contract for my librarian job or for... something else. I can't think about this without feeling like I might throw up.

I got an email from an old friend, one I haven't spoken to in years, and she is also a stay at home mom. She said that some days she wakes up absolutely awash in gratitude that she gets to spend so much time with her boy. And other days she can't believe she's painted herself into this mind-numbing corner of domesticity. My sentiments OH SO exactly.

day 3 - alone and bored with myself

Today is the third day in a row that Wes has been really, really late. The last two nights he arrived home after 1 am. It's nearly 11 now and I am not counting on seeing him before I go to sleep.

Beck had 6 month shots yesterday and was feverish and grumpy all day today. I finally had to bundle him up and take him for a walk in order to get him to nap. It didn't help that the final shelves were going up today which involved the World's Largest Drill screaming into our brick wall. So much screaming. On all fronts.

The pediatrician told me not to feed him yogurt until 8 months so I just omitted the fact that he already loves the stuff. Beck has actually been foiling all my progressive babyled weaning plans and prefers to be spoonfed for the most part. He smooshes some banana into the tray and then starts to fuss. If I give him the spoon we get a giant mess and a frustrated baby. I know the theory says that not intervening means he will eat when he is ready, that his developmental ability will match his digestive ability, but the boy likes food. And he wants it in his mouth. And he doesn't really want to mess around much. I let him try to get the food in his mouth with his hands and then I present spoons full of food. And if he reached for them I would certainly let him try to feed himself but he doesn't even reach for it. He just opens his mouth like a baby bird. Adorable. My sister was watching this and she and I agreed that he is obviously related to us - the most food in the least complicated way, thank you very much. Anyway, he loves sweet potato and avocado and today he loved oatmeal. I did the frozen cubes of stuff not so much because I wanted to but because it was so wasteful otherwise - the avocado was going to rot before he would eat the whole thing and this just seemed wiser.

And while we're getting into the details, he had his very first poop resulting from something other than breastmilk. Oh. My. God. What have I done? I should have appreciated the days of easy diaper changes when I had them. And I would imagine it is only going to get worse from here.

I am stumped about the cruise excursions - it seems we should bring a car seat for all ports, but especially Florida because the port is an hour from the parks, but most of those tour buses don't have seatbelts, in my experience. So... we may not be able to go anywhere at all. Ideas? Basically I think we will have to wait until we are onboard where the shore excursion workers will actually know the answer, because the people who answer when you call the cruiseline just say, 'Oh, I am sure there must be seatbelts because other people must do that, right?!' Um. I don't know. That's why I am asking.

So I don't know. If we do make it anywhere, it will probably be Disney Animal Kingdom because Wes has a problem with the animal shows at Sea World, apparently. I grew up being deposited at the San Diego Sea World on a regular basis so Shamu is like a performing fixture in my mind and I had barely considered the issues therein, honestly. Now that I think about it, I guess I remember some story about a Shamu eating a trainer or something. But then, animal rights people don't like Animal Kingdom much either, since it's rather zoo-like and there was some sort of scandal when they opened about treatment, which I believe was proven to be untrue. I don't know. I have pathetically few principles. I like to be principled when it is convenient to me. And I have a tendency to push Wes until he gives in on his principles, as well.

And then sometimes I get all up in arms, like when I read the Bittman article in the Times a few weeks ago and decided I really must make the final leap to full on vegetarianism. But then I decided that I would wait until I was done nursing. I need my protein. Right. The protein I get from the meat I eat maybe... every other week or so? And then I start thinking, my little tiny bit of meat isn't THAT big a deal and then I lose my passionate righteousness and order chicken with peanut sauce because the tofu is just so... mushy.

What was I saying? Oh, that I am going to be introducing my infant to animal captivity in some form. Provided I can find a way to transport him safely. Because some things ARE important.

I hate how little I am commenting on blogs. I am reading more than ever, thanks to Google Reader, but my commenting has gone from bad to nonexistent. I used to love Google but lately they have just made me lazy with their Reader and taken my potential money - they disabled my ad account without telling me why. I am trying not to think about the several hundred dollars I thought I had earned.