Target, Babies R Us, or..

I debated whether I should have posted this now or not, or even at all. But since I have no filter, or a very tiny one, I decided to just go with it.

You know when you get married there are the staple places that people register at: Target, Bed Bath and Beyond, Macy's, and occasionally Pottery Barn. The same thing is true for baby registries, only the list is much smaller: Target, BabiesRUs. That's it.

It is a frustration of mine that these two stores have the monopoly on this market. I decided to go with Babies R Us just because I thought that it might have more things than Target. I have no idea what I based that on. No real research was done before coming to that conclusion. Maybe it is just that the baby section of Target is a only a few aisles, while Babies R Us is an entire store building. Who knows. But upon my very first visit to Babies R Us for my own baby I was disappointed. Deep down I knew I would be, but I still had hope, naive though it was. Walking around that store, my baby daddy and I were nearly immobilized by the overwhelming number of "stuff" for a baby. The sheer quantity is daunting and immediately makes one question their ability to parent. "There is no way I can afford all this stuff! How can I ever be a good parent to this baby???" We certainly had a little spat while in the store. I wonder how many times a day that occurs- hormonal mom, irritated father trapped in an obnoxious store. And when we left, my husband was so grumpy; he just couldn't get over the audacity of the registry attendant telling us what we absolutely needed, and that we didn't have enough stuff on our registy. Sigh.

In the end I added only another 10 items to our registry. That is all I wanted. From there. There are other stores that I wanted stuff from, and I decided that I was going to take the gamble and register at those smaller, less known stores. Because they actually have the kind of things I am looking for. Remember me, the granola mama. Cloth diapers are definitely on the list. Baby wearing-check. Organic materials-check. And they have an online option, so people could just order the stuff online and avoid having to drive to Anaheim. So convenient, right? Not to mention that it is the exact stuff that I really want, which they do NOT carry at Babies R Us. Yup, convenient and useful, right?

I thought so anyway. But I am starting to fear that the only store I will get gifts from is Babies R Us. That damn store! Even when I try to limit my exposure to you, it seems that I cannot escape you. I haven't had my baby shower yet, so who knows, I may be pleasantly surprised. But I am not hopeful. It was a gamble registering at Babies R Us, a gamble that no one would even visit the online registries for the other stores. But when you play with fire, you should expect to get burned.

Yes, I totally compared Babies R Us to fire. Did I mention that I am hormonal??? So here's to me learning, yet again, to trust in the Great Designer, that all I need will be provided for, and to let go of that silly illusion of control.

Really?!?!?

So there are a few things I expected to eventually hear when I found out we were pregnant. They are as follows:

1.) Your belly is so big/cute.
2.) You look great!
3.) I can tell you are having a boy/girl just by the way you are carrying the baby.

So far, I have heard all of these, and I welcome these comments of excitement with open arms.

But then there are the things I never never NEVER anticipated people would say to me. They are as follows:

4.) Wow! You are so big! Are you sure there is only one baby in there???
5.) Your butt has definitely gotten bigger.
6.) So, whose the father?

Just kidding about the last one. No one has ever said #6 to me (yet) but the other two...yup, and on more than one occasion. Admittedly, I do look big, but I would never have the guts to tell a woman that she looks so big she must be having multiple babies. In the wise words of Stephanie Tanner, "How rude". And this comment (#4) is made to me at least once every few weeks. In fact my mother-in-law started making these comments to me as early as 14 weeks. Thankfully my midwife says that my uterus is measuring at the normal size, so really I am not that BIG, but I just carry the baby differently, i.e. sticking way out.

And the comments about my butt?!?!? Really?!?!? Even though I am pregnant, I am still a woman people. Think to yourself, is this the kind of comment a woman would appreciate. Or better yet, ask yourself, "Would I like someone to tell me that by butt looks bigger?" then decide not to ask the question. Sheesh!

In summary, keep comments 1-3 coming. Me love those! And the rest, those are the ones you say in your head but never to a mom-to-be.

FYI :)

Due Dates

The two most frequent questions I have been asked since people found out I was pregnant are:
1. What are you having?
2. When are you due?

The answer to the first question is "I don't know. We want to be surprised?" and I explained my reasoning here. But the second question is a bit more tricky. Because, you see, I do have a date that, according to the date-wheel-thingy and my doctor, says when this baby is due. Also there are websites where you can enter the first day of your last cycle, and/or your conception date if you know that and it will spit out a due date. Oh! And even my midwife uses an app to predict my due date based on my cycle history, date of my last cycle, and date of conception. So there is a science behind all this. I can with reasonable assuredness answer that second question with, "Little is due February 3rd". But that due date is more of a suggestion.

This baby can come whenever it wants to come. Some babies come early, up to a few weeks early is considered full term and safe for delivery. Some babies come late, up to a few weeks late even. So with a few weeks before and a few weeks after, there is at least a 6 week window when this baby can come safely. I hesitate to hold fast to February 3rd because first time moms tend to go past their due date. Also, I don't want to get too set on February 3rd because I am afraid it might cause me anxiety if that day comes and goes and nothing has happened. And finally, this is a great exercise in learning to release that tiny planner in me that likes to control all things, and to surrender to nature, to my body, and to trust in the design built into my body more than in calculations and formulas.

I have heard that in times past, before these fancy due-date-wheely-things were created, women would answer the question like this: "The baby is due sometime in early spring/late fall/mid-summer/etc". This was as specific as they could get. There is something quaint and romantic about this. I envision women during the late 1800s, think Anne of Avonlea, in long dresses with lace, and their hair up in intricate buns that I can only dream of doing myself, well... like this

And as they gather for their tea to gossip, chit chat, and bond (as women have done since the beginning of time, I'm sure), the topic comes up, "So Susanne, I hear you have some news to share" 

"Well, indeed I do! I am happy to tell you that come late winter Jonathan and I expect the arrival of a little one!"... yup, that just sounds so right to me. That is the way to do it, at least to an old soul like mine. 

But, today, that answer just doesn't work for people. So when people ask me when the baby is due, on the outside I am saying "Early February" but on the inside I am saying "Late winter".  :)

Do you know what you're having?

So I am at the point in my pregnancy where it is possible that I might actually know if I am having a girl or boy. But we have chosen not to find out. Our midwife doesn't like to prescribe ultrasounds unless she is concerned about something and it is necessary for her to check on the health of the baby or myself. If I really wanted to I could just ask her for one, and she would send me to the technician that she uses. But I don't really want one.

I've always been old fashioned in my heart, an old soul, and so when I thought about having a baby in the past I knew that at least once I would like to be surprised just like generations of women were before me. I wasn't necessarily adamant that I needed to be surprised for every child, but at least for one. Well, since it took me so long to get pregnant, I have to be honest, I am not confident that this will happen for me again. Lots of people tell me how the second time is easier, and that may be true, but as I've mentioned before, life has taught me that it is unpredictable. So rather than falling into the same routine of planning with the second, I will embrace the joy of this first experience fully. If this is the only child I am blessed to bear, I would like it to be in the old fashioned way.

Do I ever wonder what the baby is? Of course! Am I dying to know? Sometimes. My husband seems to struggle with this more than I do. But it also feels like we are on an adventure, a journey to get to know this life, and the suspense is thrilling!

There is a video blog that I follow, and this week's episode was about baby gender. I had intended to write about this topic before I had seen the video blog, but I think it is really interesting that we both had similar topics. In case any of you were interested here is the video blog episode:

Her question of the week reminded me of a conversation that I had once with my husband about baby gender. We haven't settled on how many kids we would like exactly (I think once we actually have one, we might be more prepared to answer this) but I did ask him "What if I have 3 or 4 girls in a row? Would you want to try for one more to have a boy?" His answer surprised me, "Yes..." at this point I got mad, how can you be so chauvinistic?!? Is having a male offspring really that important?!? Are men more important that women?!?, but then he continued "...but if it were reverse and we had all boys, I would want to keep trying for a girl. I just want to know what a you-me combo would look like if it was a boy and a girl." He is a great man and I love him so much! He values both genders equally, and shows them the same honor. I know that whatever Little turns out to be, this daddy will be the best daddy for him or her. And that settles my heart and my curiosity! :)

I know, you think I'm crazy...

So most of you who read this already know what I am about to say. But there may be some out there who don't know, and I find myself nervous to say it for their sake. I guess I am dreading the judgement about to come. It's not like I haven't already received my share of judgement. In fact, all but maybe 2 people that I have told have totally passed judgement, with their eyes, their silence, and sometimes their words. So here it goes...

My intention is to meet this child for the first time in my own home. Translation = I am having a home birth.

When you tell people this, their response is usually... well, here, Jim Gaffigan nailed it:

Best line = "I wanted a home birth, but I wanted my baby to live." Hilarious. The truth in this line is so great. When I tell people that I am doing a home birth, the look in their eye tells me that they think I am crazy, and clearly I do not love this child because if I did I would not endanger its life by doing something so risky.

Are there risks, yes, but no more than I would face if I had the baby in the hospital. The risks are just different. In order for me to be considered for a home birth I had to take all the initial tests that any pregnant woman would. In fact I did take those tests at my Ob/Gyn's office. And all was well. If there were any serious concerns I would not be able to have a home birth.

I guess the main reasons for my decision are that:

• I want this experience to be a sacred one, and I have a phobia of hospitals so that would be difficult for me to find in hospital.
• I believe in the miraculous design of the woman's body and its ability to bring life into this world.
• I try to live a natural lifestyle, meaning, I try to limit the amount of processed and institutional influences in my life, in what I eat, in how I care for my home, in they ways I treat my ailments, etc. So it seems that having the baby at home was the most natural place to do this, at least to me.
• I think natural births are beautiful, and I would love to be part of that beautiful tradition.
• I trust my body. I am very in-tune with my body. I try my best to listen to it when it speaks to me, and I am excited to hear it speak to me as it prepares to open up and make room for life.
• I was really disappointed when I was told that I would probably only meet my Ob/Gyn on the day I delivered the baby. I want a bond/relationship with the person who is going to be there for this unique moment.
• It feels right in my soul. My heart is at peace with this idea and plan, so I will proceed until I feel otherwise.

Just because I was on board did not mean that my husband was on board. I had read books, and articles, and described to him the birthing experience that I wanted and how a home birth or a birthing center were the best way for me to have those experiences. He had started to come around, but what sealed the deal was watching "The Business of Being Born".

In this documentary there is a woman who is filmed having her baby and she looked serene. It was a beautiful birth, she looked relaxed, at peace and beautiful. She pushed out the baby with hardly a grunt and there was no fuss, no anxiety, just love and peace. When he saw that, he was amazed. "I want you to have that kind of experience" he said. And so do I.

So that is why my intention is to have a home birth. I know that something may happen that may prevent a home birth from happening, so I am trying to remain open minded, and thankful for hospitals. Yet, I would be lying if I denied that I really really hope I have, and I really really want the birthing experience I have dreamed of. For now, I am just doing the best I can to take care of myself, and my little one. I am following the directions and guidance of my midwife, and I am trusting in the one who made this all possible.

So, yes, I know you think I'm crazy, but you know love makes us do crazy things, and for me this is one of them.

Bonding?

Being late to the pregnancy party isn't so bad, there are allot of invaluable things I learned from my preggo friends while I was on the sidelines waiting for my turn. One lesson I was never even aware of was when does an expectant mama feel that maternal connection??? Some women make it seem like the moment of conception is the moment the bonding begins, but that isn't always the case. For a few of my friends, that time came much later than they expected and they wondered what kind of mother that would make them. Why had they not felt that "connection" like other women? Was something wrong? Were they good mom material?

This fear kicked in for me pretty early on. Some days I was so excited. Some days I would cry with fear and regret, quickly followed by guilt. "What are we doing?!?!? We can't afford a baby?!?! We aren't ready for this! We have tons of stuff to do before we do this!!!" and so on. Waffling between extreme joy, and extreme doubt was (and to a lesser extent, still is) a day to day struggle. And all the while, I never felt that magical connection/bond.

Even though my friends had warned me about this, I panicked. Is something wrong with me? Do I have that maternal instinct needed to make a good mama? When will I know that I love this life inside?

The answer to that question came right around this time:

14 weeks

We were in Hawaii for my husband's grandfather's funeral. We had decided to stay for a week to spend some time with the family in Hawaii. While we were there, there was allot of sadness, and I felt the loss even more so thinking about how the life in me would never get to meet the force of life that was Grandpa. Grandma seemed to be holding it together surprisingly well. At one of the gatherings she shared with me how this is the way of life, the old must pass to make way for the new, and she gestured to my belly. It was a beautiful moment.

Later that week I was standing in the dining room, and my mother-in-law saw some dark bloody spots on the floor where I was standing. She panicked. She yelled for me to go the bathroom and make sure the baby was okay. She was worried that I was having a miscarriage. I had just come from the bathroom and everything was fine. But her panic convinced me that I might actually be having a miscarriage. So I went to the bathroom again. Turns out the spots were just some teriyaki sauce that had spilled when we were taking out the trash. But later that night, I wept uncontrollably. Delayed reaction to the adrenaline. I wept because for that moment I thought I was losing my Little Love, and it was a terrible feeling. I wasn't ready for that, and that's when I knew that I loved the life inside. I still don't feel that magical bond that I notice some women have, but I know beyond a shadow of doubt that I love my baby and I am willing to fight for this life. I want to meet him or her one day, and on that day I will turn into a fierce lioness willing to kill to protect this life. So, no, I don't feel this overwhelming bond with my baby, but yes, I know it is in me, dormant and waiting to be released.

And what of my friends?

Fear not, the "connection" eventually kicked in, and I have witnessed these women become the most intuitive and nurturing mothers. They are amazing, and I hope I can be the kind of mothers they are to their little cubs.

Mars and Venus...Mars Is Pretty Cool

So when we found out we were pregnant we wanted to wait until 8 weeks to tell our family. We each had different ways that we wanted to do so.

I wrapped up a picture frame and inside the frame I had a note written that said: Soon this frame will have the picture of your second grandchild! (my brother has a son already) We gave that frame to my parents to open. Simple, but effective. There were hugs and tears, lots of happy tears.

He wanted to make a Rube Goldberg. He always wants to make a Rube Goldberg. I am pretty convinced that when he is sitting silently staring off into space, he is planning Rube Goldbergs in his head. So of course, he made a Rube Goldberg to tell his family, complete with a motorized finger-release-thingy, and a flying pig. Here is the finished product:

My husband is basically a 6' 2" twelve-year-old... which can be pretty awesome! Especially when he does stuff like this. We are very different, but, hopefully, in ways that will help us raise beautiful souls.

Desperate Times, Call for Desperate Measures

So when you are trying to make a baby, of course you try to make yourself as fertile as possible. Here is a list of some of the things we tried (remember, I am trying to be as natural as possible, so I wanted to try more natural interventions before I moved on to more intensive approaches)

For Me

1. Basal Body Temping- a way to become more familiar with my body's cycles, and to pinpoint when I was ovulating.
2. Ashwagandha- an herb that helps reduce stress, but it also helps with circulation (I have poor blood circulation, and I read somewhere that this might contribute to my fertility).
3. Cutting back on foods I am sensitive to: I know that I am sensitive to gluten and dairy, so I tried my best to avoid these. But, it was very hard, and I often found myself eating dairy.
4. Prenatal vitamins- Started taking these the moment we started trying, over a year ago. I had to find some without gluten.
5. Zinc- Heard this helps you be more fertile, and it also helps boost your immune system when you feel a tingle in your throat, added bonus!
6. Fish oil, Vitamin D3- vitamins that promote fertility, and keep you healthy overall.
7. Positions- yes, we tried different ones, and by the end we were more systematic about it. My nurse practitioner actually encouraged me to be creative in this area. So funny to have a 50+ woman telling me to be more sexually adventurous, but I heeded your sage advice :)
8. Legs up in the air- several people told me about the old-wives-tale about putting your legs up in the air after sex to help you get pregnant by helping the swimmers find their way to my cervix. Didn't do this every time, but enough times that it became a joke between my husband and I.
9. Ovulation Predictor Kit- Pretty self-explanatory. Didn't start using this until a year after trying, per the recommendation of my nurse practitioner.

For Him

1. Cold showers- this is to stimulate the swimmers.
2. Radiation reducing phone case- my husband likes to keep his phone in his front pockets, near his manhood, which has been shown to reduce sperm count, so this phone case is meant to protect him from that (and cancer too).
3. Zinc- same thing as me above.
4. Fish Oils, Vitamin D3- same thing as above.
5. Exercise, increase protein and healthy fat intake- these increase testosterone, a must in keeping the swimmers healthy and active.

My husband was also willing to have his swimmers tested, (I had already submitted urine and blood samples to have my own fertility more thoroughly examined) but it wasn't necessary because... We tested positive that same month!!!

I am not saying that these things worked. I have no idea if they did or not. This was not a kosher experiment. Some of the things listed above were done simultaneously, and maybe that made a difference, maybe not. I really don't know. I am just sharing things that I did, in my journey to not give up.

If I have to pin it down to one thing, I would say that I was able to truly release and relax that month. I was starting the infertility process with my OB/GYN. I felt so relieved to be doing that. I was finally going to have some concrete answers, and with those answers I could then make a plan for how I was going to tackle those troubles. And that month, all I had to do was wait on the test results. No worries in the world! I was actually excited to finally be able to have the answers I so desperately wanted. And I just sighed with relief that month, and told God that I trust him/her and that I knew he/she was with me. And my husband and I were both in agreement that we would come to the best solution possible for us in our lives whenever and whatever came.

And my body opened up, relaxed, and was allowed to just be. My nurse practitioner told me that this happens frequently. I was so glad to hear it. Yay for those other women!!! And yay for us!!! And yay for my little one growing within, bigger and bigger, out of love...

Peeing on a Stick

(This is an older post I meant to post earlier this summer)

So, aren't pregnancy sticks EXPENSIVE!!! I mean, seriously?!?!? If you are TTC those things will break your bank! And even if they don't ('cuz you're disgustingly wealthy), it's the principle! I am gonna pee on this, wait 5 minutes then throw it away. And for that I have to pay $20??? Enter the 99 cents store. In this magical place you can buy a stick, not a fancy one but it does the same thing, for less than a dollar (before taxes). But wait a minute, if you are TTC then you are probably peeing on a stick 4-7 times a months x 12 months = $84 a year. That's $84 bucks you are spending to be pissed off every time you piss on a stick. That is too much money to spend just to be frustrated, in my opinion anyway.

My solution, buying pregnancy sticks in bulk on-line. I bought 100 stick for $20. That is definitely a more reasonable price. And since I had so many, and they were so cheap to get in the first place, I was more than happy to share the wealth and give them away to friends who thought they might be pregnant. "Why wait in suspense? Here take a handful. Knock yourself out".

Only downside (as I was warned by a close friend), you do get kinda addicted to peeing on a stick. Same thing with ovulation predictor sticks. Your day just doesn't feel right until you've peed on a stick. Who's with me? Anyone? Is this thing on??? (She recedes back into the crazy-shell she stuck her head out of.)

What if...

So a friend of mine was sharing her story with me. She had been trying for more than a year. At some point during this time the crazy crept in. It happens... But in her desperation to conceive her husband asked her a question that struck her right in the heart and helped her emerge from the crazy.

"What if I can't give you a baby? Do you still want to be with me???" he asked. What a bizarre question it must have seemed to my friend. She didn't marry her husband because of his genes for procreation. And yet, she must have been acting in such a way that led her husband to wonder if her need to carry life was more powerful than her love for him.

How blind we can become in the craziness, how unwittingly our pain can be transfered to others, hurting those we love most.

But as she shared this story with me, I had to check-in with myself. I had to ask myself the same question. "If having a child is not something that can happen between my husband and I, do I still want to live out the rest of my days with this man???" The answer to that question was the reality check I needed at just that moment. I was so absorbed in my own desire that I forgot that I have chosen to travel the rest of my days on this earth with someone else and that must remain a priority if we are to succeed in this married life.

So the answer to the question was YES!!!! I still want to be with him no matter what!

I mean, who wouldn't?!?!? He is willing to entertain his wife by taking her to childish restaurants, and take goofy pictures just to make her happy. He has made my life better in so many ways, and all this sans children. I can't even imagine raising children without him. So it is him all the way. Love him. Love him. Love him!

How I keep the crazy at bay

Sorry for the long absence. Just finished summer school. It was really tough for me to get through this year. By the time I got home every night, all I wanted to do was watch TV or read. Hence, the delays in posts. But I am free!!! For a little while anyway.

When you are TTC (trying to conceive), I think that there is a point, and that point is different for everyone, when you start to become crazy about it. Bless your poor partner, because they likely bear the brunt of this craziness, and have to witness it, and still love you. For me that point was after 4 months of trying. In this journey I have absorbed and assumed the stories of so many of the women around me. And that is why I started to go crazy at 4 months. When I first started thinking about trying, I spoke to a co-worker about how maternity leave works (she had just had a baby the previous year) and how I had wanted to time the birth so that I could get the longest time with my baby (maternity leave + vacations+ holiday= tons of time off!!!). Her response was, "Well, if you're that lucky. It took me 4 months to get pregnant."

My co-worker's story echoed in my head. 4 months, 4 months, 4 months... So when I wasn't pregnant the first 3 months, I wasn't terribly worried, because I was totally going to be pregnant by 4 months just like my co-worker. That's math, right? That's how it works. And when 4 months came and my period came, that is when I started to loose it. That is when I started to get a little crazy.

Crazy looks different for everyone too. For me it was obsession. I would spend hours and hours researching ways to help make me more fertile, things that cause infertility, and baby things. It was the baby things that made my husband worried. I was glued to the computer trying to figure out what diapers I wanted, what stroller suited our needs, what baby carrier was the most versatile. On more than one occasion, Jonathan asked me to stop doing this, and just wait until we had a baby to plan for. He was worried for me, that I wasn't relaxing and trusting God. And he was right.

Still working on relaxing and trusting (I suspect these will be challenges for the better part of the rest of my life), but along the way I have gotten better at it in this specific area. As I have said before, some days are better than others. Here are a few thing that I have done to help me keep the crazy at bay:

1. Put a limit on Facebook: This one was HUGE for me. Facebook was a consistent source of pain for me, as it seemed the world over was enjoying motherhood, and I was not invited to the party. I first fasted Facebook for lent, and when that worked out well for me, I continued after lent on a modified schedule. I get one and a half hours once a week to go on. This is actually just enough time to read and reply to emails, and catch up on what family and close friends are up to.

2. When it's too much, say no: Sometimes I knew that I wasn't in the right state to handle groups of pregnant women or mothers with their children. But it seemed inevitable since nearly all the women in my social groups were either pregnant or had children. I often let the guilt of feeling like a bad person dictate my actions, forcing me to attend these gatherings. But then I would leave feeling miserable and hating my body even more. I had to put a stop to this. So when we are invited to something, I go through the list of possible guests (to see if anyone pregnant might be there) and ask myself how I am doing. If I honestly have been having a rough time/week with this topic then I choose not to torture myself, and I say "No, I can't make it". Then I reject the guilty feelings. It takes practice not to let the guilt control, but it gets easier, and I am healthier for respecting myself.

3. Get busy: I am trying my best to stay away from the researching obsession. The easiest way to replace the computer is to stay active. I have a list of projects I have been procrastinating on and I am slowly working my way down on that list. Some of the project are fun and creative, some are chores, but I feel better once any of them is done. This one has been key for me.

I am sure other people have other ideas, these are the ones that work for me. Take what you like and leave the rest.

Good luck crazy ladies. We will make it through this!

Blankets in Brazil

One of my close friends once told me that if I ever die she wants my wooden chest. Nope, that didn't offend me, because, yup, we are that close. The chest is currently in my living room, filled with winter blankets and some Christmas paraphernalia. It's a red-stained wooden chest with peacock's carved all around it. I love this chest. It is useless, whimsical, and lovely.

My friend told me that it would make a great hope chest. I have heard people talk about hope chests, but never had a strong grip on what exactly they are for. Hope, I assumed, but in the form of what? She told me that in the olden days women would fill the chest with things that they would need after they got married, often times filling it with handmade items like baby clothes (amongst other things). Then I realized that I had, in a way, already begun my own hope chest.

A month after the devastating news I got from the doctor, we traveled to Brazil. It had been 6 years since we had last been there. A shame, a terrible shame. But that is how life is sometimes. The last time we were there my sister-in-law was pregnant. Six years passed and we still hadn't met our niece, who we had heard was a riot. So there we were, finally in Brazil for 3 wonderful weeks.

I brought some yarn, hooks, and needles with me to work on some projects while we were there. I had just re-learned how to knit and wanted to try out a pattern for a baby blanket, and since it seemed that the entire world was conceiving simultaneously, I figured I would certainly have someone I would be able to give it to.

Over those three weeks I worked on that blanket, and I cried allot, thinking about my own fertility struggles. I shared my sorrows with my sister-in-law (who was so sweet and kind to me), and I found that as I unraveled the yarn and my thoughts, I gained clarity. I knew who this blanket was for. It was for me, for my baby, for the little one I would one day meet. When we came home in August, I folded the blanket up and put it away. Here it is below.

It is heather-gray, made out of cotton yarn, and is made in a simple basket-weave style. Makes a pretty nice shawl. But I don't use it as one. It sits in a basket, where I store the other small things I have been gathering and collecting for my little one. Things like cloth diapers, and baby clothes, and handmade booties. I had to give myself permission to buy these things, to store in my own hope "chest". Once when I was in a cloth diapering store I confessed to the salesperson that I felt silly for spending so much time in that store when I wasn't pregnant and wasn't even sure if I could get pregnant. And she was so kind in her response, "Well I have two boys, not babies, and I'm not even sure if I will ever have another baby, but when I see something that I love I snatch it up, because who knows? Maybe one day. And it makes me happy to do this and gives me hope. There is nothing wrong with that."

And so I have slowly been adding to my hope chest, stuff that I make and stuff that I buy, because it makes me happy to do so, and it gives me hope. And there's nothing wrong with that. Plus, I get a cuddly blanket. Win-Win!

Dreams

I don't usually remember my dreams. I know allot of people think that if you don't dream then something must be wrong with you, especially since dreams have so much to tell us about ourselves. But, I really don't remember my dreams. I won't say that I don't dream, because I probably do, but it is rare that I wake up remembering what was going on in my mind while my eyes were shut. Still, occasionally I will wake myself up laughing, crying, or kicking (I once slapped Jonathan in the chest because I was playing basketball in my dreams). Laughing is the best. I love those dreams. It is always better to be awaken by your own giggling.

About 6 months ago I woke up with tears, but it was the BEST. DREAM. EVER! It was around my birthday, and for some irrational reason I was convinced that January was gonna by my month. We were gonna "score a goal". So that month, of course, I was hyper-vigilant, I took my temps accurately, I made sure we were timing our husband and wifely duties well, I even put my legs up in the air afterwards to see if I could help gravity at all.

One night, after I had already ovulated, I had a dream that I had given birth. It was beautiful, and exactly how I had hoped it would be. Then, suddenly, I was sitting in my recliner and someone handed me my baby. A girl!!! She looked more like a 6 month old rather than a new born, but it was a dream so it made sense by the dream-reality rules.

As I looked down at her, I kept thinking that this little girl looked exactly like what Snow White must have looked like when she was a baby, except that in place of blue eyes she had stunning yellowish eyes. Round face, pale skin, raven hair, huge eyes, like her mama, but a golden hazel color. Gorgeous! At least I thought so. And there I was holding her, trying to get her to nurse. She struggled at first, but after a while she finally latched on. I was thrilled! All I could think was, "You're doing it, precious! I am so proud of you. You are amazing. You figured this out all on your own. Good job! I love you so much!" And as those thoughts repeated over and over in my head, tears of joy rolled down my cheeks. And that is how I woke up, with a huge smile, and a wet pillow with wet cheeks.

Over time I usually forget the dreams that I am actually able to remember upon waking. But there are a handful that have stayed with me. This is one of them. And I am so glad I have this dream to encourage me to look forward to what is still to come. While I didn't conceive in January, in a way, I did have my baby. I held her, and I was overcome by the love I felt for her. And I can't wait to meet her one day. One day.

My Pink Cadillac, well one of them...

Sometimes, I get down in this process. It can be hard, trying, and I get impatient. Then I get down and wanna throw the towel in. But then I turn to my "vision board", or my version of a pink Cadillac. You know, when a Mary Kay vendor sells a TON of stuff and reaches a certain goal of income, the company gives them a pink Cadillac. That pink Cadillac is the impetus for some of these hardworking women to not give up when the going gets tough. There are a few things that I turn to that make me happy, and smile, and remind me that it is not time to give up. Not yet. And so I now present to you one of my "pink Cadillacs". Hope this makes you as happy as it makes me every time I see it. Enjoy.

Magic- A Belly Grows from The Panic Room Videos on Vimeo.

Guilty Pleasure= Surprising Inspiration

There is no dignified way to say this, but I am addicted to a novela (Spanish soap opera). I say addicted because it really isn't that good. I've see better, fo' sho'! But I must watch it. I need to know how things will turn out with Marisa, Cristobal, and Lalo. Realizing that I can catch up with missed episode online has only made things worse. Especially since that is the main way that I watch "Una Maid en Manhattan." Yes, that translates as "Maid in Manhattan", and yes it is loosely based on the J-Lo movie, and yes it is cheesy and ridiculous, but I am addicted to it.

Honestly this started as an experiment to see if I can regain some of my lost Spanish. I have lost so much of my Spanish since moving out of my parents' home. And I really wanted to regain that language, especially to be able to use with my students' parents. On the positive- my Spanish has improved. On the negative-it has improved mostly in areas that have to do with defending ones love, seeking revenge, and speaking romantically to my lover. Not helpful at all at my job. Ha!

The good thing about watching the novela online is that I don't have to sit through as many commercials. It's kinda like watching TV episodes on Hulu. And it is the same 5 commercials nearly every time, so I have their lengths memorized. I can dash out of the room and be back in time for the novela to start up again.

One of the commercials that is in the loop is a Pampers diaper commercial (excellent marketing- they sure do know their audience, just saying). The music in it is one of my favorites. And it is also a commercial that has surprisingly been one of my greatest encouragers. It has given me such a strong sense of hope, which is surprising. I think it hilarious that a commercial can do this, even if unintentionally.

The commercial in Spanish is less than a minute long, but I couldn't find the Spanish version. So below you will find a link to the English version. The visuals are all the same just longer. The music is the same, and part that still puts the greatest smile on my face and tears in my eyes is still there.

The part that speaks to my heart is when the text reads "Whether she's 3 months early...Or 10 years late." Even now, I am tearing up. Because, this will happen, I know it. Even if it is 10 years late. And if it is, I will be as happy as the woman in that scene. That joy will be mine! I just have to trust and wait.

And that is how my novela and Pampers gave me hope. May you too find hope for without it we are lost.

Love.

The Illusion of Control

Hello, my name is Susanne, and I am a planner. I live to plan. I thrive on schedules, and checklists. I love knowing what is ahead. And, as you might imagine, I am not as gracious when handling surprises, the unexpected, things that are not within my power to change. Okay, yes, I admit it, I am a bit of a control freak.

So, of course, I had a plan for our family: when we would start it, how many kids we would have, and how it would look- as if I really had any control of this. To some extent I guess I did. I mean, I was able to use birth control (there's that world again) to decide for my body when it was allowed to carry a baby. And the plan was to stop taking the pill as soon as we were ready to start a family. So here was my checklist of things to do before we could have our family (notice the inherent assumption that this is something one simply grabs/takes when ready):

1. Finish my teaching credential (check)

2. Get a teaching job (check)

3. Buy a house (check)

4. Finish Master's degree (check)

5. Clear my teaching credential (still working on)

6. For Husband- finish school (still working on).

As you can see, there are still things that have yet to be finished. So why am I trying? Aren't I breaking my rules? What about the plan?!?!

Well, that all changed when I was given a reality check. About a year ago I had gone in for my "lady" check-up and while there I explained to the doctor that since I had stopped taking the pill (a decision I made to pursue a more natural life style) I noticed that my cycles were incredibly irregular. And, according to my charts- I had been using the basal body temperature method (BBT) to chart when I was ovulating so as to avoid an "accident"- I wasn't ovulating about half of the time. My doctor's response has forever changed my life, "Oh, you're gonna have a real hard time getting pregnant. But that's okay, right? Sounds like your life is pretty busy and you weren't really planning for this." Surprised is not the right word, shocked is getting closer, and devastated is closer still. I felt betrayed by my own body. Hello, body, we have a plan!!! Get with the program! And that, readers, is when the veil was slowly lifted off the illusion of control.

I continued and continue still to struggle with this. But I am much better at it today, more than a year after that doctor's visit. Yes, I still am a planner, but now my plans are more of a wish list than an actual itinerary. And the spirit behind the saying "God willing" has invaded nearly every corner of my life. Control was something I never really had, not to the extent I thought anyway. What a humbling experience, to be taken down from my tower of Babel.

And in the after shocks of this I have learned to trust and wait. Trust that somehow, someway I will have my family- just not the way I had planned, which is okay, more than okay. And learning to patiently wait, which is easier some days than others. Like today. Today was a good day.

Prayers Under a Full Moon

The moon has come to mean something very special to me. In several traditions, the moon goddess is also the goddess of fertility. My own heritage exemplifies this. Ix-Chel is the Maya goddess of both the moon and fertility. Women's cycle have always linked them to the moon and its cycles. And in many languages the moon is a feminine word.

Recently I found myself drawn to the moon, looking up into the night sky and tracking the moon as she grew fuller and fuller with each passing day, until she was finally, completely full. On those nights I go out doors and sit or stand under the light, humbled by the brightness of it all. One night I found myself praying. To mother god. Pleading to that part of god that is female. That part that understands my desire to create, to nurture, to "dar a luz".

"Dar a luz" in spanish literally means "to give light", but this phrase is used to describe a woman giving birth. What a beautiful way to describe such a beautiful process. So I found myself praying to the moon, as its light shone brightly, that I too might give my own light to the world. And here my story begins...with prayers whispered under a full moon.