Temper Tantrum

Today I had a temper tantrum.  I am 27 years old now and am learning that these aren't really an acceptable display of emotion anymore, so I kept it silent.  I held in the complaining and whining.  The angry words and tears were heard only in the deep recesses of my cerebrum.  I only imagined slamming all the doors as I walked through them, rather than actually doing it.  I kept the fist pounding and floor kicking within the bounds of clenched fists inside my mittens and a fast paced power walk as we went around the lake.

It was a weak point.  I made up my mind several months ago that I could either complain about all the emotions and experiences of pregnancy or I could just be excited and show people the pregnancy glow they want to see.  It has been a pretty easy resolution to make as I haven't really had a whole lot to complain about.  This baby has treated me well, but sometimes it's all I can do to not just yell and scream and wish that it was over.

I told Nick today that I am on a roller coaster of emotions, and vacillate quickly between optimism and pessimism.  One minute I am convinced that this baby will never arrive, and I will become the first documented case of a woman being pregnant forever.  Then I come around and remind myself that eventually the baby, my body or medicine will prevail and this baby will erupt into our lives and change it forever.  I remind myself that overall I am really still doing very well.  I am not bed ridden.  I've been able to maintain my current work schedule without too much difficulty.  I can still exercise and enjoy time with my husband without the cries of a newborn's needs in the background.  I then resolve myself to just sitting tight and holding out.  Patience is a virtue, and really I want all to go as naturally as possible.  Eventually, the ride starts all over again.

Usually, if there is something that I want really badly, but can't have I just try not to think about it.  I distract myself with something else for the time being.  However, it is hard not to perseverate on the baby these days.  Our house is full of baby gear ready to be used.  I can't bend, sit, stand or eat without being reminded that I am a living cocoon.  Nearly every task that I perform reminds me that I am not housing just myself but another person as well.  Along with this, everyone feels entitled to tell me how I must be feeling or what I can or can not do.  My ever growing abdomen is impossible for anyone to ignore.  I am constantly reminded of baby's impending birthday.  People look at me and immediately the conversation that ensues goes something like this:

"Ohhh, you're pregnant!  That is so exciting!  When is the baby due?"
"Well, any day now.  I am due the 18th of this month."
"Oh, wow.  Well, that could be anytime.  I bet you are so excited.  It is going to be __________."
"Yep, we are very excited and eager to meet this little one."
"Oh, I bet you are.  Having children is _______________."
"Well, we're looking forward to it and I guess we'll find out soon."

I then usually try to duck out of the conversation shortly thereafter.  Don't get me wrong, I am excited about this child and I don't mind discussing how momentous the event is.  I am just at the point where thinking about it is old news and I am ready to experience it.  I've been told many times how great/challenging/amazing/exciting it is.  I am ready to know this first hand.  I understand the need to be patient because I know that I will find out soon enough, as there literally is no room left for this little on in my body anymore.  Coupling my own impatience, however, with the relative impatience of everyone else makes maintaining a positive attitude quite difficult sometimes.

I feel helpless.  I know that many people, including Nick and I, are anxious to meet this growing person that we've been talking about for seven months now and I've been carrying for ten, but I can't make anything happen any faster than it already is.  Nature has to take its course.  Sure there are old wives tales about things you can do to speed the process along, and by all means I am trying what I can.  However, the fact of the matter is there is very little evidence that anything really works.  Waiting is just the name of the game.  The end is in sight, it just isn't here yet.

So today I threw a temper tantrum.  I was fed up.  I wanted nothing less from today than to put an end to all the anticipation, bring on the labor pains and deliver a baby.  I even worked out twice.  The first was a baby jostling workout that included squats, jumping jacks and lunges.  I then moved on to a three mile power walk around the lake.  There are several points along the path that allow us to cut the walk short and at each one I believe I uttered to Nick, "my water hasn't broken yet, let's keep walking."  Nick and Sadie walked patiently at my side like absolute saints, allowing me to blow off steam.  Neither said a word about my obvious frustrations, and let me ride out my internal temper tantrum.

I don't know how I got so blessed with a patient husband who understands that sometimes walking in quiet solidarity is worth more than a thousand words of encouragement and advice.  Tonight, we had a tasty dinner orchestrated by Nick.  We spoke nothing of baby, or our afternoon walk.  I had a time to distract myself, step back and remember that in time everything will come together.

I made sure to appreciate the time we had and that it wasn't at any point interrupted by a screaming hungry newborn, or a diaper change.  We were able to clean up and then quietly reside to the living room to cuddle up with our worn out pooch.  Tonight, I am enjoying that my schedule is my own.  Nobody is dictating what I need to do and I can relax with my own thoughts.  These nights will certainly be missed in the months ahead.  As excited as I am about the entrance of children into our lives, I am determined to enjoy the last few days/weeks of the two of us.  I am relieved to find myself once again at the top of the pregnancy roller coaster ride, optimistic and content.

Homesick

Every year at this time, even after (gasp) 16 years, I get homesick.  For those of you who may not know I grew up in Madagascar.  I spent about 10 years of my life there, and it is my birthplace.  Although attempts have been made, I have not been back to the country since my family left in March of 1995.

During our time there we lived in both Antananarivo and Antsirabe.  I was born in Antsirabe, where I nearly earned myself Norwegian citizenship because the local government office didn't believe that any Americans had ever been born in the city despite my parents both being American citizens.  During my time in Madagascar I attended a French pre-school and kindergarten and a Norwegian school for fourth and fifth grade.  My mom also attempted some home schooling (where I was a less than ideal student) and I spent a few years in school here in America.

I suppose it is a misnomer to say that I get homesick because I do feel very much at home now in my life here in the United States.  However, living in America is much different than living in Madagascar, and sometimes I miss the routine and experiences I had living abroad as a child.  I think growing up abroad, I became accustomed to a certain level of constant homesickness.  I always remark that when we lived in Madagascar I would long to be with our family in America and when we would return to America I would long for my "family" in Madagascar.  I grew up acutely aware that I was straddling two very different cultures.  In some ways I was connected to both worlds and in other ways I was not connected to either.  

Perhaps, it is the isolation of a Minnesota winter that makes me miss the comfort of community that I now associate with Madagascar.  Otherwise, it may be the fact that the anniversary of our arrival back to the United States occurs in the beginning of March and triggers these memories.  It could also simply have to do with the fact that most Minnesotans get cabin fever and we all start discussing travel and escaping our frozen tundra around this time.

I guess whatever the reason I find myself once again jamming out to African tunes on my ipod, revisiting old pictures of my youth and looking up ticket prices to head back home.  I will chuckle when I watch the nightly news broadcast the forecast, and remember when we used to watch the news in Madagascar and they would hold up a sheet of paper with a hand printed map of Madagascar and a written list of the days temperatures.  On one of my next trips to the grocery store I will probably end up buying an overpriced mango or papaya and will probably share with people the joys of lychee juice streaming down my chin.  And if time allows, I will probably drag my husband to the zoo so we can check out the lemurs and I can reminisce over the time that I baby sat a lemur and it nearly ran away...because this is what I do every year at this time.

The Joys of Naivety

I am not quite sure where time has gone.  We were busy in December with a month of holiday gatherings, and I kept thinking to myself that January would feel long.  We really didn't have a whole lot planned for this month, and in general I tend to hate this month because it is cold and gray and drags on forever.  However, here we are nearly two weeks into the new year and things haven't slowed down yet.  Life sure has a way of filling up.  Our weekends are pretty much booked from now until our due date, so I guess I don't have to worry about being bored.

I am feeling like we are getting so close to this little one's arrival.  The nursery finally got painted, and I honestly think it turned out nearly exactly as I imagined.  The crib has a home, and is no longer plunked down in the middle of a bunch of bookshelves and desks where our office was.  I set up a bookshelf and have placed a few of the baby books and toys we've gotten on it.  It really looks like a baby's room now.  We also have a chair for cuddling and feeding times, the rug will be picked up today and I finally found a dresser that can act as a changing table without taking up half the room...I just need to order that.  It is nice to have a daily visual reminder of what is coming up, something other than my ever expanding baby bump.  I just love sitting in that room now, and can hardly wait to bring our baby home to it.  I am absolutely giddy with excitement.

A friend asked me the other day if I was scared about labor.  I replied by saying that this time around I am enjoying the naivety of the first pregnancy, and in all honesty I am not letting anyone take that away from me.  I think there is something protective in not knowing everything that is going to happen.  I remember in our high school youth group we discussed once whether or not we would like to have a crystal ball that would reveal to us the paths our lives would take.  At that time, I had no clue what direction my life was leading and I am sure I answered with a resounding "YES!"  However, I realize now that sometimes it helps to not know everything that is going to happen and to just take it small steps at a time.  I honestly don't want to know what hardships lie ahead.  I know that when Nick and I found out we were pregnant, we became parents and there wasn't any turning back from that.

When I have people ask me if I am excited, especially the ones who have been through this a time or two, I always reply with a huge smile and say, "I am enjoying being naively excited."  I typically get a very knowing look back.  People understand that this is a time in my life where I can forget about the roller coaster ride of parenting and just rejoice in the new life we are bringing into this world.

I am not stupid, and I don't think our expanding family is going to bring with it only rainbows and butterflies.  I know there are times when parenting can be heart breaking.  I know things can go terribly wrong during labor and I know that sleep deprivation can play funny tricks on even the happiest of relationships.  I also anticipate walking through the doors of our own home with a new baby, leaving behind a hospital of supportive nurses, aids and doctors, will be terrifying as we stare into the face of a helpless child that we are entirely responsible for.  I know there are hardships that come up in life I can never be prepared for, and sure enough that scares me, but I am not willing to let that take away from my excitement over this little one.

We have good family friends who recently welcomed their second beautiful child into their family, and she wrote once about how she approached her second pregnancy with more hesitancy because she knew what was coming around the corner.  Next time around, I am going to know first hand the exhaustion of a new baby.  I am going to have felt the terror of having a child exploring a very uncertain world.  I will have had days where as much as I love my little one, I will crave for the simplicity and ease of our current childless family unit.  I will have felt the pain of labor, and I will remember the challenges of pregnancy (i.e. being unable to bend, the shortness of breath with minimal activity, the ever changing pregnancy body, the fatigue and nausea...).  However, for now all I know of these things is from what I've heard and not from what I've experienced, and I am relishing in that naivety.

I know that few parents regret having their children.  I know that while we are scared about the changes kids will bring to our lives, Nick and I are ready and excited to take on the new roles of mom and dad.  I also know that despite everything that comes with being a first time parent, people still have more kids, so I think we can handle it.  Therefore, I have concluded to enjoy every moment of anticipation for this new life inside me.  I am choosing to focus on the things Nick and I are excited about and to forget about the things that are unknown and scary.  I guess you could say I am being knowingly naive, since there is no turning back from the changes that February will bring.

Explanation

Please pardon my absence from writing, but I have hit full fledged "nesting" stage.  Now that Christmas is over the next event is baby.  I have gone into full preparation mode...I will return soon.

Nine Weeks

Tomorrow begins the 31st week of this pregnancy.  I can hardly believe there are only nine weeks (give or take a few) to go.  I have to admit that February still feels like a long ways away, but in the context of being more than 3/4 of the way through I really start to see how close we are getting.

I have been extremely fortunate this time around to have a straightforward pregnancy.  My morning sickness the first trimester was only ever as bad as a hangover, without the preceding fun night of memories.  I never even puked.  Although future first time pregnant women be warned, the gag reflex really picks up during pregnancy.  The fatigue was brutal, but at least I was able to get the rest I needed.  Next time around it probably won't be as easy to do that.  I haven't had any crazy cravings, although I find it funny that in the dead of winter the most consistent craving has been for popsicles.  The mood swings haven't been nearly as wild as I had anticipated, and our marriage has certainly benefited from that.

My major struggle during the second trimester was one that I hadn't anticipated because overall I felt really great.  Second trimester was when I really started to show, and I struggled a lot more with body image than I realized I would.  The bump has grown on me, pun intended, but it took a while to accept it.  Surprisingly, it wasn't really the way it looked when I saw myself in the mirror, it was more the way I felt.  It started with the weight gain.  I knew I'd gain weight, but it was hard coming to the realization that baby was in control and I no longer was.  Then my clothes started to be less comfortable.  I noticed that t-shirts that fit the week before, were no longer appropriate the following week.  Being someone who still wears jeans from high school, this was a new experience for me.  I realized that waking up in the morning and not knowing for sure if the clothes I picked out were going to fit was terribly unsettling.  While I am very grateful to not have to deal with the end stages of pregnancy and sweltering summer heat, it isn't all that exciting to dress in the necessary winter layers on days when I feel whale like.  

About the time I began to accept my changing body, the comments began.  My growing belly became the topic of conversation, and everywhere I turned I was reminded of it.  Coming from the relative secrecy of the first trimester, where people would only know I was pregnant if I told them, it was strange to have such a personal experience become front and center.  The emerging bump somehow makes complete strangers feel entitled to touch your stomach and ask questions about your life that in any other circumstance wouldn't necessarily be acceptable.  To have my changing body be a conversation starter in and of itself, was a very odd experience for an introvert like me.

Now that I have come to accept the inevitable physical changes of pregnancy, I am starting to feel the effects of these changes on my body.  I laid down last night and asked Nick if it was normal to feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest.  I am finding that I need to stop more and more frequently to catch my breath as this little one encroaches on my diaphragm.  Putting on socks and tying my shoes requires a game plan and strategy.  My previously brisk walking pace, is slowly turning into a definite waddle.  My empathy for my mom and grandpa grows everyday as I occasionally get restless legs now...thanks baby.  Waking up with cramping calves has become a new form of an alarm clock, but at least it leaves me with the sore feeling of a good leg workout.  It was also a little startling to come home after a seemingly harmless walk through the snow at the park and find myself forced to stay on the couch for the day guzzling water and trying to beat back regular 2-4 minute apart braxton hicks contractions.

I don't usually like to insert disclaimers in my writing, but feel a need to do so right now.  Hopefully, this post doesn't come across as complaining.  I have been extremely thankful for the relative ease of this pregnancy.  I write these things more out of need to process the experience, than to complain about it.  I really have found pregnancy to be incredibly miraculous and am so excited about the baby we will welcome into our family in February.  The love and support I have had from my family and friends throughout the past eight months has been extremely amazing and I am so thankful that.  I am a firm believer that it takes a village to raise a child, and our child is going to benefit greatly from our community of loved ones.

As we get closer to our due date, I am finally starting to kick into gear on the nursery.  I started clearing out the office, and finally feel like I have a vision for the room.  We were blessed with the gift of a crib from Nick's mom and crib sheets from his sister for Christmas and now that it is put together I want it to have a home.  However, I would definitely venture to say that not knowing the gender of our child has limited the compulsion to shop for it.  I find myself focusing more on the things that we'll need to care for our little one in those first few months, than on all the extras that businesses like to market to new parents.

As a side note, I would like to insert that throughout this pregnancy I have found myself feeling quite strongly that we are having a boy.  However, over the past few days I have been feeling more girl vibes and am now left a little confused.  Contrary to the conspiracy theory that we do know the gender and are simply choosing not to share it, we are left waiting as anxiously as everyone else.  I chuckled to myself a few weeks ago when one of my co-workers told me that a mom always knows what they're having.  I guess I am thankful that I'll have many years to prove my worth as a mom, and will hopefully not be judged based on a 50/50 chance.  I for one was blessed with a fabulous mother who has proved her worth over and over again, and yet she was so convinced that I was a boy that she called me a "he" for the first few weeks of my life.  I guess we'll see if history repeats itself...

It is still a little surreal to think that in a few short months our baby will take up permanent residence in our home.  I get super excited when I think of the ways in which we anticipate this child to change our lives, but even more excited when I realize that we will be changed in ways we do not yet know.  It is definitely unnerving to think about, as child rearing is no easy task and comes with many unforeseen challenges.  However, Nick and I pride ourselves in our communication and have felt reassured to find that when we discuss some of the challenges we anticipate as parents, we are often on the same page.  More important than our parenting values, has been our repeated commitment to support one another in our parenting decisions.  It is nice to know that while we both realize we will disagree on things, we recognize that it is most important to be a united front.

As I have come to more fully accept the physical and emotional challenges of pregnancy, I am finding myself now eagerly anticipating and waiting for the birth of our child.  I find myself focusing less on the here and now of pregnancy and instead focusing on the inevitable result of it.  We had a delightful visit last weekend with Nick's cousins and their four month old son.  I laughed as his cousin, a little mortified that her son had spit up on me, apologized for the mess.  To me, it was just a taste of what is to come.  I know I'll have times in the next several months where I will panic and ask myself what in the world am I going to do with this tiny being.  I might even ask myself how it was that I ever thought I'd be prepared to be a parent.  However, I wasn't weirded out by the mess, or annoyed by his tears.  Instead I found myself saying, bring it on.  I am ready for this...or at least I will be in nine weeks.

    

Click

There is an Adam Sandler movie that is ringing a little too close to home today.  The movie is called "Click."  Adam Sandler plays a man who receives a special remote control that can fast forward his life.  Naturally, he spends a lot of time fast forwarding the bad parts hoping that he can just jump to the fun stuff.  He thinks that if he can just quickly get through the current hurdle and the hard work that he can enjoy the benefits and fabulous life he's expecting.  I won't risk spoiling the movie, but I suppose it doesn't take too much intuition to figure out what kind of lesson he learns at the end of the movie.

I am having one of those "wishing I could fast forward" days.  I am impatient and I just want answers.  I want to know what my baby looks and acts like and what it feels like to be a parent.  I want to know if I'll be able to handle sleep deprivation and balancing another member of the family.  I want to know where my husband is going to get into residency, so I can start anticipating the next house project or the move.  I want to get through my next three days of work and enjoy a few days off again.  I want to know for a fact that all the many unknown pieces of our life puzzle will fall into place and everything will be fine.  My list goes on and on.  As a result I am moping.  I am not getting a thing done.  I am stuck in an impatient rut of wanting to move forward, but not able to because I won't be able to move time fast enough for myself to be satisfied today.

The irony of this funk is striking as we are now two weeks into the Advent season.  Being born and raised Lutheran, the fact that Advent is the season of waiting is no secret to me.  This is the time of preparation and patience as we anticipate Christmas.  Consumerism certainly helps remind us with the preparation part of the holiday.  We are constantly bombarded with commercials reminding us of our secular Christmas to do lists.  

However, the waiting part is completely escaping me.  At least it is escaping me today.  Because today I don't want to wait anymore; I want to know for a fact that all will be well.  I don't want to be patient.  I don't want to find it all out in due time.  I want to know it RIGHT NOW.

I guess it is a good think I don't have one of those magic remotes because I am pretty sure I'd go against my better judgment and use it today.  I'd fast forward through today and find myself at work tomorrow.  It still wouldn't give me the reassurance I am looking for today and I'd fast forward through work.  Pretty soon, I'd find myself several years down the road unsure of the path I've taken.  I would feel unsettled because I'd have missed out on the process and would be curious to know how my current state is going to work itself out.  Soon the experience would be lost and I'd simply be an audience member of my own life.

There is after all a reason that I only have to tackle so many tasks a day.  To complete a lifetime everyday would be very exhausting and probably not nearly as enjoyable.  I suppose I could get moving, and stop sulking.  I could accept that today may not solve all the unknowns I have right now.  Instead I can take comfort in knowing that time will keep marching on and most likely, contrary to today, I'll be back to wishing it would all slow down.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

Today I tackled the basement boxes.  It has been on my list of things to do for a while, but I've been avoiding it.  They were mostly boxes that get moved from place to place, but never unpacked.  They hold memories and snapshots of various times in my life.  And while their contents have no value, they are priceless in defining the journey I've made to become me.  These are boxes that for months now I've been telling myself I need to sort because I just don't want to have to move them again next summer should we find ourselves matching to an out of state residency program.

Generally, I do a good job of not hoarding too much stuff.  However, I am a sentimental gal and over the years I've kept my fair share of memorabilia.  For example, today I finally recycled four years worth of college papers that I'd written and saved.  I also ceremoniously rid myself of that dreadful final letter from my drawing professor freshman year who told me "your attitude, attendance and work ethic are second to none but your skill is lacking and that certainly has factored into your grade."  I came across a few sentimental letters I'd received from great friends over the years and some odd trinkets I'd never quite known what to do with but felt attached to and couldn't get myself to toss.

It was one of those mixed up days where I wasn't quite sure how to feel.  On one hand, I only look at this stuff every few years at most.  On the other hand, many items in those boxes represent me and who I am today.  Some items encouraged me at important times in my life.  Other items were the byproduct of the hard work and knowledge I'd gained throughout my courses in school.  Some, like the letter from my all too honest art professor, represent the challenges I've had.  It was simultaneously cathartic and painful to sort through those boxes today, and tonight I am admittedly a little wiped out.  However, I am thankful to have another thing crossed off my to do list.

In honor of the sorting I thought I'd share with you a piece I wrote in my ninth grade health class (yes, the contents of the boxes went back more than ten years).  The assignment we had was to create something that represented us.  As my college art professor solidified for me many years later, art wasn't my thing and I chose to write something instead.  I modeled my piece after a poem I had identified with that had been written by another missionary kid.  It was interesting to read through this again and think about who I was then, who I am now and who I am still becoming.  Without further ado here it is...

What most don't know...
What most don't know as they go walking by is that on the outside I look like everyone else, but inside there is so much more.  I have my own ideas and feelings.  I have highs and lows.  I have likes and dislikes.  I have good days and bad days.  I have my own fears and dreams.  I have my own goals to make and my own obstacles to overcome.  I have a past behind me and a future ahead of me.

What most don't know is that I'm 15 years old, and I hate to drive.  I went to a French school in kindergarten.  I love gymnastics.  I used to help my friends take care of their ring tailed lemurs.  I hate snow, cold weather and seeing my breath.  I love the sun, warm weather and Christmas on the beach.

What most don't know is that my favorite baby-sitter and I used to play the game SORRY in two different languages without understanding each other in either language.  Most of my friends come from different places around the world.  I am fluent in Norwegian.  I had to teach myself to read in English.  I am the oldest sister of two younger brothers.

What most don't know is that my favorite game when I was little was school, but I am the one who dreads going back to school the most.  I don't want to give up being a little kid, but I can't wait to grow up.  I am never wrong.  I could crawl out of my crib, stroller and car seat by the age of one.  I love to tease and hate being teased.

What most don't know is that I love tomatoes.  I can not sleep on airplanes or in the car.  The first language I learned to read and write in was French.  I was the little kid who thought they served rice at McDonald's.  I grew up in a country that had one brand of cereal.  I went to a Norwegian School in fourth and fifth grade.

What most don't know is that when I was two I had to travel halfway around the world to see my grandparents for the very first time.  I always want to be somewhere I'm not.  The friends who understand me best I use a paper and pen or e-mail to talk to.  I have no idea what to be when I grow up.  I am a diver on the High School Swim Team.  I love to sing.  My favorite songs are still from Sunday school.

What most don't know as they go walking by is that I might look like everyone else, but I am not.  No, I am myself.  I can't be anyone else, and no one can be me.