Much to-do about to-dos

I have a short list of things I want to "do" in this life. The list has no rhyme or reason and gets updated and changed at my every whim - after all, it's my list:

• Running a marathon - check that, 4 hours, 10 min. 23 sec. Huntsville, Ala. Dec 9, 2006
• Sipping a mint julep in a ridiculously big hat at the Kentucky Derby - remains up high
• Riding my bike behind Jacob for a really long time - like across the country - still ahead
• Taking my American family to Europe and showing them history - hopefully in the near future
• Baking the perfect apple pie and winning a pie-baking contest - This one remains...elusive...I've tried, it's the crust that trips me up
• Re-inventing myself and my career aspirations about every 10 years - accountant, journalist, teaching assistant, check

As people who know me well will readily attest to, I'm methodical in a way that borders on tedious. I like lists, I like to check them off. I make budgets, I tally them up. I have a menu plan that doubles as shopping list. I adore New Year's resolutions and inventory them at the end of the year. I sort my clothes according to color and have a system for how I load food stuff into my fridge. I never leave the house without my bed made - if he wasn't the man he is, I would probably drive Jacob crazy with my neat-and-neat needs. But he remains calm in the face of absolute rigorous order - he is very special.

So here are some new "to dos" on my list (these will make anyone who knows me reasonably well, laugh helplessly and it fills me with rising trepidation, whenever I think about them)

• I will be less orderly and regimented for at least a year - the first year of Bean's life
• I will leave a mess be a mess, when other priorities call, ahem cry...I might even leave the dishes in the sink overnight for a while
• I will not freak when I forget things
• I will find the humor in not being prepared
• I will not have the cleanest kitchen on the block
• I will truly live in the moment more and worry less about what lies ahead

Yup, I'm going to do all that, on top of raising a baby. Wish me luck!

My loyal running buddy

The Bean and I are logging some miles together...

I won't say we're breaking any distance or speed records. We are getting a good share of stares as we lumber along heavily. I've long lost the lite spring in my step.

I think Bean has a good time when we're out in the evening. We try to avoid the hot hours of the day, we only go for 30 minutes on most days, maybe 40 if we get inspired or lost in thoughts.

Dr. H tells us that exercise for someone of pre-pregnancy marathon fitness like me, is perfectly safe into the third trimester...In fact he invites it.

Everything I have read so far assumes a direct correlation between better labor and good overall fitness. I'm encouraged by that...although sometimes I wonder if people who see me waddling down the road want to call me in for pre-natal abuse...shaken baby syndrome comes to mind...However, the fluid that surrounds Bean acts as the perfect buffer, keeping it all soft and smooth and full of stimuli for him.

The only things I have to watch out for are overheating, over-exertion, dehydration and damage I might do to my knees and hips since my ligaments are looser and I'm carrying around all that extra weight.

So we take it easy. We stop when we get to hot, and someday soon, we'll start walking on the inclines because I will be breathing too hard. I will consider swimming soon too. I have started to pick level running routes, preferably along several public bathrooms or construction site port-o-potties (my newest discovery during a recent run in full-bladder inflicted desperation.)

Easy used to be a frowned upon word in my vocabulary. I used to equate trying hard and tireless discipline with success. I have never been a fast runner. But I can be steady and go the distance.....or used to anyway. Now I think back to those precious moments when I would take inventory and everything would come back smooth and working...and I would suddenly be aware that I wasn't even breathing beyond my normal resting rate - those were sweet moments of gratification...all that discipline was paying off.

...now I breathe hard no matter what. It feels like a funnel is inserted in my lungs and sucks out about half of what I inhale to an unknown place...I feel like I'm trying to skip up Mount Everest. My pace has slowed to accommodate that - I'm running loops that used to take me 25 minutes in 32 or 33 minutes now....along with endurance my other main motivation for running - weight control and body image issues - have gone by the wayside.

At 124 lbs, I don't have much control over anything with exercise alone (although Dr. H keeps mentioning 130-135 lbs as the top-out weight). And body issue - well, without a waistline I wouldn't know what issues to start with.

I look bulbous any day, no more fat days, all my days are pregnant days.

Now me and The Bean head out for other reasons. I have to remind myself that this is bonding time, prayer time, thinking time, this is one thing I can do to work toward an easier time in labor. This will help me bounce back post-partum. I don't look smooth or fast, but I'm keeping up my strength. I still pack on the pounds, but with the right diet, the are the nourishing kinds of pounds.

And if nothing else, without fail, five times a week, I get my fair share of stares...as I hitch up my running shorts over my big belly and keep going...

Oh man, a human...

Bear with me, I only slept about three hours last night...

I'm getting rounder and most of all, noticeably denser and tighter in the mid-section, the fact that I imbibed in REAL coffee at 9 a.m. (it's teacher/teacher's assistant appreciation week and I felt VERY appreciated by our PTO's thoughtful gesture that involved a brown paper cup with a mermaid printed on it...) probably didn't help either. I was running high on that caffeine - after weeks of complete abstinence - and had trouble settling down despite an hour-long bike ride at dusk with my birthday boy husband.

Anyways come 2 a.m. last night I was wide awake, lying there ...wandering aimlessly through my mind's landscape.When I decided to get up and drink some water and read for a little while, The Bean got up, too.

In the last couple of days the cute, silky flutters from the first movements since mid-April have given way to much more decisive nudges. He usually gives me a good thumping around dinner time, when I drink or eat something really cold or right after I settle down from excercise and sometimes when I lie still in bed. He kind of ping-pongs around in his own world, maybe bored by my lack of movement.

It isn't just more forceful - forceful enough to startle me out of sleep now, but it's so... human - hu!man! What felt all cute and fleeting before, now suddenly conjures up a clear vision of a knee or a head poking me.

The Bean, I realize with rising panic, he is a human being, just like me! Maybe it's that mystery force that inevitably seems to inhabit night time and attach so much more meaning to everything, but I feltfear rising in me.Me, myself and I, still so selfish, will have to care for another human being - not a puppy I can put out back in the yard after some roughhousing, or a doll I can put up on the shelf until next time I feel like playing. Just like myself, this being will want my constant attention.

My throat tightens at the entire truth hits met.

I love company. I'm happily social and gladly rise to the challenge of entertaining crowds when the chance arises. I'm not shy, never have been. I see eyes on me and I start talking, even if I have nothing to say. I can't help it.

I love being married. I adore my easy companionship with Jacob, its constancy. It lives by words and silence, it is fueled by proximity, it grows through trust.

But I treasure alone time. I love my lonely runs, rolling up the past day behind me and considering the new challenges ahead of me, speaking to God or listening inside. I love grocery shopping by myself. Sometimes I take silly pride in being fast and efficient with my list, sometimes I luxuriate in this anonymous time by slowly studying labels of things that will not be going home with me.

It took me some time to learn this, but I whole-heartedly cherish silence and aloneness now.

And in five months or so, those two things - my selfishness and my need for alone time - will be called into question. In fact they may simply be wiped away for a while - a long while. When you're 37, the next 12 to 18 years sound like a life sentence...

I will fantasize about cruises and wear sensible shoes by the time The Bean is legally independent.

I don't want to sound hopeless, but fear conjured up in the small hours of the night is real.

Somewhere around early dawn I found hope in my prayer against my fear.The perfect antidote to fear is honesty.

I won't lie about how I feel and what I love about this baby of ours. I won't pretend that everything is swell, if it's not. If you ask, don't be surprised if I say "I'm lousy, I haven't slept in a day and a half and I don't know what this baby wants from me. We don't get along" This won't come natural to me. I like to please and I hate to admit inadequacy - I loath it.

But don't feel obligated to change my circumstance for me. That is not what I'm seeking with the truth as I perceive it. Simply validate my honesty by listening. You can cheer me up or share a similar memory with me, you can make me laugh or tell me that you understand or don't. Being able to give the truth voice (that's straight from "The Red Tent" if you've read it) makes it more bearable - it's by divine design. I believe that is one reason God has made us relational creatures.

If you don't have children aready, someday will validate your honesty - you won't have to pretend all that spit, poop and sleepless nights are balm to your senses.

That's my sleepless night and what I learned from it. Blessings be.

Pregnancy Week 22

Fresh from www.babyfit.com

YOUR BABY THIS WEEK...Week 22
You and baby are both getting anxious to meet each other! Your baby is kicking up a storm, and you feel like you’re getting bigger every day. Your Baby: Your baby weighs over 12 ounces (.35 kg) and is more than 7 inches (18 cm) long! Baby's eyelids and eyebrows have developed and her muscles are growing stronger—something you can feel by the strength of the movement in your tummy! Your baby is probably moving more regularly now—not just once in a while! After birth, she'll recognize the songs you sing or play for her now, resulting in a soothing effect.

Note: Bean, at our last checkup in April weighed almost 16 ounces and measured 10 inches in length...but the kicking is right on.

A spaceship for a stroller

My Mom is on a mission...

...to find The Bean ("Die Bohne" in German) the ultimately and perfect mode of transportation.

My folks have generously offered to contribute a stroller to The Bean's necessary stack of stuff.

I assumed - wrongly - that we would pick a color and a type, maybe look for a used one - and they would either make a purchase or hand over a check.

Wrong. My Mom - I'm so proud of her and the grandmother she is going to be - has taken on this task with great enthusiasm and seriousness. She is reading up on strollers, visiting baby stores, and in her own words she is "getting stroller-smart." I realize I have failed to see the excitement that has been building up quietly a continent away in small, neat Switzerland.

They want something very special and only the best for their first grandson.

Something that will last, that will be smooth, of great quality and outfitted with every safety feature imaginable, not to mention something that is utterly chic - because that's what all things European are.

We're likely going to compromise somewhere along the way...some of the models my Mom is researching are not going to work for my needs (swivel front wheels for one) and others look so "spaceship-like" I'm not sure we'll be able to push them down the street with a straight face, but I'm once again grateful as I have said before, for that strong network of support that Jacob and I - and The Bean - have in our parents.

Both sets will stop at nothing, I believe, to promote health and happiness for The Bean - It's a source of great comfort to me to know that no matter how long it will take us to "get this parent thing down" there will be a tireless family behind us, ready with advise and any other means necessary to ensure The Bean's well-being.

Likewise, we have received offers and help in many different ways from great friends. Girlfriends who are mothers already share their wisdom, friends who are now fathers cheer Jacob with stories of misery that soon will turn humorous. Other friends and family members have offered help with moving, or offered to organize showers. All of them, with every conversation and gesture, make this pregnancy a very special experience for us. We are grateful.

I'm not sure about that whole village, but I draw confidence from having that network of family and friends to make this monumental change in our lives a good one. Thank you.

Happy birthday, Big Daddy Jacob!

Today is Jacob's birthday. He is 29 or in his own words, "hanging on to his 20s by a thread."

His next birthday will be different in every way - new digit of 3 and 3 will also be the number of members in our little family.

I told him this morning - as he winced at my enthusiastic singing - that next time he hears this it will be a duet - and one of us may just be crying ...

My IQ is decreasing at worrisome constancy, I do things like wander into the bank without a deposit slip in my hand, acting as if this is the first time I've ever deposited a check. I cannot for the life of me keep track of my purse AND my waterbottle at the same time. I park my car at akward angles in a nearly empty parking lot or attempt turn-arounds in no-no places...I don't think I'm a danger to others or myself - yet, but I do catch myself saying or doing incredibly dumb things that I would normally have no patience for in others...

On the up-side of this, I've noticed that I have a greatly enhanced capacity to rumminate..I can ponder a single subject at length and with the kind of determination, akin of a "slow" person's fascination with, say, a shiny doorknob.

So the other day, while I was trying to make preparations for Jacob's little birthday get-together - the red velvet cake came out tasting good, see picture above - I got to thinking about fatherhood...about how my sweet husband of only 29 life years is up against a task, I find intimidating on a good day and daunting on a bad one.

Unlike me - the mother - he doesn't have a list of to-dos dictated by nature. He doesn't POSSESS the built-in ability to nourish The Bean once born, he doesn't have that hormone-induced need to PROTECT The Bean close, he isn't changed physically by the pregnancy, he is left "outside" in the truest sense of the word - I have a baby growing under my heart and many hormones infusing my every thought, he has a view of our baby growing and thriving- a frontrow-seat - but still off stage.

His bond with The Bean has to be created by him from within, with little clear designation from nature.

This morning I heard a clip on NPR featuring presidential candidate Barrak Obama saying that "the ability to father a child doesn't make a father, raising one does..." It caught me off guard, it aptly illustrates what my hormone-addled brain can't say quite that clearly.

Bearing a child is no small task, raising one is a bigger, much bigger task.

I have no doubt that Jacob will be a great father, he will seize the opportunity to mentor his child and rejoice in play alongside him. He will be calm in the face of "danger," he will be patient with misbehavior, he will be kind and thoughtful - and he will do all of this without loosing too many sleepless nights about it.

Unlike me, a creature of endless self-analyzation, Jacob will draw on a deep well that taps into his own vast experience of being a son, his amazing memory of a content childhood, his confidence bestowed in him by his own father, and his honest, close relationship with God.

I may have the built-in ability to provide nourishment to The Bean, but I know - and am comforted by the tought - that Jacob will be able to provide so much beyond that; He will have nourishment for The Bean's spiritual being and help him develop life-skills.

It's been on my mind, that we often focus on the mother-to-be. Her health, her mental state, her plans for the nursery, her aches and pains, her registry etc. Help me focus some of that attention on Jacob, as well. He is "left outside" the whole physical transformation for now, but he is gearing up for an incredibly big job.

It will be a beautiful thing to watch this come about - and I for one am grateful to have a front-row seat to it.

Giving Bean his due (date)

We didn't plan this...
Not just this pregnancy, but the due date.
It's a date that has become a three-digit abbreviation for terrorism attacks.
Our baby boy is due on 9/11.

I have to admit, I mischieviously love cataloging the reactions I get whenever someone asks me. No one, of course, is prepared, so everyone hastens to a "consoling" retort.
Even our doctor beat me to the punch, assuring me that only 5 percent of all babies are born on their due date.
Ever since, the reactions have reached from a helpless raise-the-white-flag, I'm-stumped "oh, my" to the ever defiant, but still patriotic "it's not such a bad day, after all." I'm perfecting a tight look as I anxously stutter the three numbers, just to see the askers struggle...I know, it's bad, but it is too much fun...I do tell people pretty quickly that I'm OK if he is born on 9/11.

To us it means nothing. Not to belittle what happened on 9/11, but if it happens to become our baby boy's birthday, that will take first priority - for us. When he is old enough we'll try to explain why his birthday holds such significance to people outside of his circle of family and friends but mostly we'll be busy blowing out candles, eating fistfuls of cake, and holding the noisiest little-boy birthday party on the block...I don't think anyone can fault us for that. After all, a baby born on that day, signifies that we as a nation push on, move on, live on, and make ammends, and hopefully have learned something along the way.

Just out of curiosity, I "researched" what "disasters" befell mine and Jacob's birthdays, and this is what I found: On my birthday in 1883, Alfred Packer was convicted of cannibalism (not a pretty thought), while 1,198 people drowned in the icy waters of the Celtic Sea in 1915 when a German submarine successfully torpedoed the Lusitania on Jacob's birthday...

...but to our mothers those headlines meant nothing when the water broke (at least we hope so)

Anyways, I can promise you that I will not tip-toe around or hold my breath or otherwise try to avoid labor on 9/11 this year...if I haven't delivered by then, I'll be so big that neither will be possible.