there better be only one baby in there…
10 weeks pregnant :)
I’m pregnant!
I was thinking of finding some super cute way of announcing it – but honestly, I’m so exhausted and nauseous that it took me this long to even get to those two words.
I’ve announced it to most of my family, and a few close friends, and the rest of the world is subject to just speculating until I get to 12 weeks (only 4 weeks away!!)
Baby due November 2013. :)
(I’ll be back soon to bore you with details)
This month I didn’t turn off the light, climb into bed and cry.
This month I didn’t cry longingly, or scream in frustration.
We did everything we could… And, it wasn’t enough.
But, there’s always next month.
And, while there are moments when the impatience overwhelms me, each month I also see a benefit.. whether it’s more debt paid off, or AMP just a little more excited about the prospect. :)
So, I wait…
Sometimes the hardest part is the not knowing — the not knowing whether to refer to the baby as a he or a she… being forced to use the despised ‘it’.
There are moments when I can live with the not knowing if the baby would have had brown eyes like mommy and daddy – or somehow inherited grandma’s green eyes…if the baby’s hair would be curly – or defied all odds and be stick straight.
But not knowing the basic fact of whether it was a boy or a girl – that feels unbearable.
Oftentimes I refer to it as ‘her’. But sometimes, I think of ‘him’ – a little golden-haired baby – a precocious toddler. It’s the boy I can imagine more – I picture a mirror image of his daddy – the pictures I have of my husband as a baby or toddler fueling my imagination.
The baby would be two this year. Two. Not a baby anymore. A child – toddler – running around asking why a million times a day…
My life would have been drastically different.
The other hard part – that while I wish with everything I have that I could have that baby – I also am glad we had more time as a couple. We would have loved the baby – but two years ago we weren’t ready – it would have been more difficult – a strain.
And, how horrible is that… to be glad of that? It’s as if I’m saying I’m glad that baby was never born. The baby I try so hard to picture – but whose face eludes me. The baby I never knew – and yet miss all the time.
The baby that now will always be a baby to me.. Never a toddler, child or teenager… just a faceless, nameless baby.
But still my baby.
I have a confession to make. I feel unsure about saying this out loud on here – fear of shame and shunning, I guess. But, this is my little corner, so, here goes it…
We want a girl.
For a firstborn.
My husband, especially, is determined (and very very hopeful) that we have a girl first. And, for the second, he would like either a girl or boy.
To clarify: we would absolutely be head over heels in love with a son OR daughter. But, if we had a choice, we would want to have a girl first.
So, is it wrong to try and tip the scales in our favor?
A while ago, in response to some comment I made, my husband asked me if it matters to me that I have children before my brother and his wife do – my brother and his wife who are 3 and 6 years younger than me respectively, who live in my parent’s basement, married less than a year, and have jobs that barely provide them for the necessities of life.
If I recall correctly I stayed silent and waited till he forgot he even asked the question and pretended the whole conversation never happened.
I want to say no, it doesn’t matter to me. After all, it doesn’t matter to my husband, who although the oldest of four, did not produce the first (and only) grandchild on his side. It doesn’t matter to him at all. If this decision was left to him, he could easily wait a few more years before even considering this step – because he’s perfectly content with the way things are.
But, let’s be honest here – it does matter to me. I want my child to be the first grandchild for my parents. I was the first to get married; the first to buy a house; shouldn’t I be the first to welcome a child into this world? I want to be the one that surprises my parents with the news of their changed status. I want my child to be the first one who calls my mom and dad nonna and nonno (Italian for grandma and grandpa).
I know it sounds silly to most people – but it’s the way I feel.
However, my sister-in-law is baby obsessed and I have a feeling that she’s going to beat me to it… And, speeding the timetable along just to be first is ridiculous (and AMP would never ever go for it).
But, I know that being second, especially second to my much younger sister-in-law, will sting. I know that I will be resentful of being left behind again. And, I know that those feelings suck.
So, I hope it doesn’t happen… Or for the strength to be a bigger person if it does…
“And we can sell our house and drive down and live in Brazil. I’ll be Ricardo. Your name can be… Miranda…”
I interrupt my husband in the middle of his plan to flee our current life and ask him why his ‘imaginary’ futures never seem to have children in it.
His response was to ask me why mine never involve just the two of us. Why I don’t want it to be just him and me?
I was quite effectively silenced (though I’m not sure that was his intent).
It brought to surface one of my greatest fears – making the wrong decision on whether or not to have a child. Especially because it is mostly my decision – it is something my husband is willing to do because I want it – and not because it’s his lifelong dream to be a father. I love just the two of us, but I want a baby of our own. He loves just the two of us but he says he’ll be happy with expanding our little family, if I’m happy.
But I worry that he’ll resent me for this huge change to our lives.
And, I worry that I’ll be resentful if we don’t make this change.
My arms ache from the weight they’ve never known
The lullabies never sung, scratch tirelessly at my throat
The feel of your soft skin, cradled against my chest
A voice I’ll never know, whispering, “Mommy I love you.”
The goodnight stories we’ll never read
Cuddles and kisses we’ll never feel
Whispered conversations we’ll never have
Giggles and laughter we’ll never hear
Days and weeks and months and years
That we’ll never share
Days and weeks and months and years
and all the things I’m left to ponder
Would your hair been blonde and curly?
Would your eyelashes be as long as your daddy’s?
Would you learn to read at three?
Would you be shy like your mommy?
All the things I’ll never know
All the love you’ll never feel
Every day that passes I think of you
And miss you, my dear baby.
The Undomestic Housewife 