Children vs time.

I was on the train and there was this spunky 5 year old who got on with her father. She had a lot of words and sat down in the handy-cap spot next to the call button. She enthusiastically asked he father questions about the button, what it did, what was written above it and why it was there. She was so lovely. He fathers response each time was sharp, bitter, snapping and mean. More often than not, he just told her to shut up. But in her wisdom, or oblivion, she continued to drown him with her inquisitiveness. Her relentlessness and resilience was both endearing and hopeful. I not sure she can keep it up till she can get away from her asshole of a father, but I hope so.

But she caught my eye because I have been thinking a lot about kids, who they become, how they change and how those changes challenge parents. When I think back to my life with D. as an infant, there were certainly "hard" parts. Sleep was challenging, and nursing, while lovely, was time consuming. Now that sleeping has recovered, and nursing is less frequent, I should have more time right? Nope. Now D-man is so mobile he takes a lot more monitoring. I think there is a curve, in a diagramatic sense, that is the relationship of the child's age to the mother's productivity. Not to say domestic labor is somehow unproductive - but I mean labor as in the money making, free-lancing, non domestic kind. I thought I would be at the "gets more done" stage when D. reached a year, but in fact I think it is still getting harder...

I am also starting to have some stress about having another - or trying to. DH has a big project going on that is taking him to a different continent about ever other month. And since bedrest and toddlers don't really jive, our original plan to TTC in March has now shifted to August. If I were your average pregnant person, with average lady parts, this would not be a biggie. But after losses, a septum resection, issues in each trimester, incompetent cervix and months in bed... well, let's just say I am a little freaked. I keep wondering if the septum is really gone? I know that is nuts. But I really want to go in for my annual and ask my OB to do a quick U/S. I just want to make sure nothing is there.

And I am also pushing 35. After you have been burned my the miscarriage bug, you take nothing for granted. The older I get, the more risk. I am not stupid enough to think, "that would never happen to me." It could. And if we wait, and I get pregnant and carry to term, I'll be delivering around my 36 birthday. Ugh.

The other part is, I hate to say this, but we would love a big family. Like, at least 3. That alone would dictate a rapid fire schedule. Uuuuhhhh. Who knows what to do. It is a mess really. So I guess we'll just wait. Despite the fact that I'd rather not. We'll wait. We'll wait. And I'll just keep telling myself that everything will be ok.

Rarely writing, but I finally had a few things to say

It has been a wild week. There were countless, significant milestones I needed to mark... Here are just a few.

1.G from Makes you stronger stunned me, and herself and the rest of the blog-o-sphere with a viable, beating little bean at this weeks scan. Holy shit. Un-fucking-believable story. If I could have one single wish this year, it is for G to get her ass knocked up... and stay that way. At least for 9 months:)
2. The little D-man turned 1! Knock my fat ass over with a feather, has a year gone by already? I miss my little lump of mush, but also love watching him grow into a little person.
3. The boy said "Mama!" Two days after his birthday he started consistently saying it. Melt-worthy.
4. I did my first, paid workshop as part of our new start up (me and 5 friends.) Feels awesome to make some money outside of the academic crap-hole I have been sucked into.

Well, I have procrastinated long enough. I have a pound cake in the shape of a choo-choo-train to make and ice. The official birthday party is tomorrow.

I'm not sure when I stopped.

It was not a decision. It just happened. Time was eaten up, and this place I had for myself, for you, lost its weight in my world. But I miss it here. Despite the face that I may be alone again. Where are you old friends?

Life is both good and busy. DH is hauling ass, working a ton. I am teaching, working on a start-up venture with friends and holding down the domestic end full-time. In other words, I and a FT-SAHM with two half-jobs. It is exhausting, but just fine. I struggle, but I have a great life and the good fortune to be able to choose either or both paths.

Motherhood is lovely and unexpectedly satisfying. I never thought I would ever entertain staying home full time - but I love it. Sometimes I feel like a big puss for that. But most of the time i couldn't give a damn what others think. My little dood will only be young once. I am greedy about my time with him.

There a big plans brewing for the next year. DH is traveling a ton (across the pond.) We hope to buy a bigger house in the spring. And we are trying to work out the details about expanding our family in the fall of 2010. It is a complicated dance - the work, the moving, the tricky pregnancy. But we'll figure it out. Nearly 4 months of bedrest and the pain of child birth have faded into the distance. I fear what bedrest will look like with a toddler running about. But I know we can do it. Not without the support of or wonderful families - but I know they are all excited to see our clan grow.

More than anything I stress about the stress - remembering those moments of hopelessness - of feeling like my body was failing so terribly. I remember the terror and fear of knowing that we could have lost him. I can only hope that if we successfully conceive again, that we'll be better prepared this time. We have a good doctor. We know how to treat my issues preventatively. We've been through it all.

I miss you blog-o-sphere. I hope you are swell.
xo

A year in pics

A year of images. You can see the many U/S images early on. Leading to what looked like a "normal" pregnancy. Then to the hospital and out again. Then comes the little boy.

Slice me up into little pieces

There are just not enough of me to go around. Mom-me, work-me, freelance-me, wife-me, friend-me, daughter-me, blog-me and on and on. This summer has been crazy, despite that it feels if I have achieved little. But that is not entirely true. The bathroom door and trim finally got painted. That has got to count for something.

But what is crazy to think about is that this time last year the shit was about to hit the fan. I was about to go into preterm labor, my cervix was shortening and none of my shithead doctors would help me. We hauled ass to a suburban hospital and were admitted straight away. I stayed there for a little over 4 weeks. Leaving my OB and heading to the burbs was the smartest thing we ever did. I am not sure if my son would be here today if we hadn't.

I have very few pictures of myself pregnant and not confined to a bed. So this is what I looked like this time last year.


Our little boy is rocking the house. Today was downright monumental.
- He started articulating da, da, da in a very purposeful and clear way.
- He started to sway a little when he heard music.
- He got a TOOTH!

I know, boring boring. But we are siked... And sad to see his grow so fast.

And then it just stopped:)

So we have been letting baby D, cry himself to sleep. I don't like it, but he stopped falling asleep after nursing a few weeks ago - at least at bedtime. His social self was just wanting stay up with us. He was accumulating a sleep deficit. No napping well and being a real crabster. Then I realized that even if I nurse him, then lay with him in bed, he still need about 5 minutes of solid cry time. So cry.it.out it is. I know bedtime routines and sleep-stuff is a generally sensitive subject. Everyone needs to do what they think is best for the temperament of their child. This is what works for us.

Then last night, it just stopped. We stayed up late to see Nonie and Pop and then put him in bed awake. He wimpered a bit, then shut his eyes! Then this morning, I nursed him down, plopped him in bed and POOF! He was asleep. Super!

Despite our good fortune, we may be about to ruin it all. Today we depart on our first flight together as a family to a time zone on the other side of the country. Not sure how we will get him adjusted to the west coast, a strange bed and the evening sounds of old friends catching up. We are on our way to see our dearest of friends and their little nursling, Mr. Finn. It promises to be a great trip, with the added bonus of meeting my dear internet friend G - live and in the flesh! Awesomesauce!

So wish us luck on two flights and a layover. I will have a darling boy attached to my b00b nearly all day. I am feeling more chill about it today than I was yesterday. The benefit of seeing old friends outweighs my anxiety:)

And a pic for the road:)

Bugger

Six months since I gave birth and my period has returned, despite exclusively breastfeeding. Bugger.

It is amazing that the sight of blood still results, initially, in complete panic. I guess it will be some time till I can look down, see blood, and not freak out.

I suspected something was going on 2 weeks ago, when I swore I felt ovulation pains. My poor digestion and irritable bowels also returned. Two days ago I started into my first extended, yet dull, headache. Doctors that don't subscribe to the effects of hormones on a woman's body are just stupid. It effects me - totally and completely. Even thought my pregnancy was a trainwreck, it did relieve me of a few things - all of which are suddenly returning. Bummer.

Well, here is to hoping that the flow will be short, light and infrequent.

Seriously siked

Last nights "cry it out" was not so bad. We established a nice routine: get changed, read 2 books, nurse, then into bed. He whaled for about 10 minutes then sacked out. This all by 7:10 pm:) He did wake twice before 8 and cry, but after that he was out. I am still trying to figure out what to do with all the extra free time!

Then this morning, he did a stellar job taking 2 crib naps in the morning and 1 in the afternoon! Huh? Its like the more he sleeps the more he wants to sleep. Rad. I hope this evening goes as smoothly, especially since I am here tooting my horn.

We are also going to start rice cereal today. Last night he helped himself to a fist full of cous cous off of DH's dinner plate. Didn't make it to his mouth, but almost. So he is officially mooching:) Very cute.

Battling to sleep

We have finally hit a wall. A bedtime wall. DH believes we coddle the boy too much. I just want a calm and soothing bedtime experience, so I attempt to keep crying to a minimum. But bedtime has become exhausting.

It started when I foolishly read a book on sleep issues - given to me by a friend. It is of the hardcore, cry it out, variety. Not really my thing. But lately, I am swaying. We try to be consistent. There are 2-3 naps a day. Ideally in the crib, but not always. They are ideally at least an hour, but not always. I nurse him, then he gets a bounce and a shhhhhhh cribside. Lately, you can put him in the crib, but he may wake right away or in the next ten minute. Repeat bounce and shhhhh, and hope for the best. It does not always work.

Then there is bedtime. We usually wait till we see eyerubbing, but I think this is actually the problem. I think by the time he is rubbing the eyes we are too late. He is over tired. He has been clusterfeeding in the 6-7 pm hour. I actually think this is his own bedtime preparation. Anyhow, what usually happens is about 7:30-8, I nurse him again, then bounce and shhhh. Sometimes he takes it, but more often now he starts to rub his eyes frantically, popping out the nuk repeatedly and then on to screaming. DH steps in and we rotate back and forth based on what our moods can stand. Last ditch effort is to lay in bed with him.

Well, tonight.... Tonight we are going to try to put him in the crib without the bounce and shhh. We made a plan so we are in alignment and not making decisions on the fly, in the thick of it. We are moving bedtime up to 7, for sure. We are establishing a calming routine for the 30-45 minutes prior. Reading, nursing, etc. Then a short bounce, then into the crib. We decided on 30 minutes of crying without going in, picking up, etc. This is going to be VERY taxing on me. But I know what we have been doing is not working. In fact, it has become a disaster, and not good for anyone. I need, very much, for bedtime to change. We are going to give it three days and see how it goes. Honestly, it can not get much worse:) Well, I suppose it could.....

If only ever nap could be like this one:

Musings on bloggyness

Oh, how life has changed. I still read all of the many blogs that I read while TTC and on bedrest, but I feel so disconnected. I want to cheer everyone on, and am continually thankful for the near 2 years of support I have been given from this community. But as a new parent, one of the ones who "succeeded," I feel like a bit of a chump. It is like being stuck between two worlds. One where I relate whole-heartedly to those on the roller-coaster, or on couch-arrest. But where I "fit," momentarily, into the fertile world. I am one of the lucky ones who conceived and birthed a child (not without many scary moments.) Yet I still feel uncomfortable when I see a pregnant woman out and about in the world. Oh, aren't you special to be pregnant and allowed to do your own grocery shopping! I make a lot of assumptions about how easy it is for other women. I know my assumptions are sometimes wrong, even cruel.

The spring has been a rude awakening. As the frost melts, I have been spending more time out in the world-- strolling the boy around the neighborhood. I have run into many an acquaintance who never even knew I was pregnant, let alone have a six month old! It feels weird to have to rehash my rocky pregnancy in a way that is palatable to someone you don't know so well. Surely, not everyone needs to know about the mechanics of my faulty cervix (ewww.) I certainly don't share what came before then. No one really wants to hear about your multiple miscarriages and your lap/hyst.

I am, in general, a shy person-- with strangers at least. It takes a lot out of me to negotiate small talk. I feel nervous and silly. Being a parent has not changed that. I know some women who have "blossomed" after having kids. Their children become a conduit through which they are more free in conversation. "We have the same stroller! Oh my gosh, I have never seen anyone with that stroller!" I don't know if it is the predictability of the conversations, or the strange personal nature of them that turns me off. Either way, I am whole-heartily disinterested in talking with strangers about my son. Yes, that is sweet and nice that someone tells me they think he is cute-- but seriously, what else would one say! Um, your baby's ears stick out funny!?! I don't have the privilege of recounting my smooth pregnancy and uncomplicated, unmedicated birth. I don't get to compare notes after running into a couple I attended birth classes with. I couldn't go to birth classes, because I was stuck in bed! My son is a person, not an accessory. He is a baby like any other. And while he is very special to me, I don't want his to grow up thinking he is the center of the universe. I want him to be part of the collective universe. I guess when it comes to him in public space, I am much more private than I thought I would be. He is not a trophy. He is a little boy.

And perhaps being outed from both camps is ok for now, because my glorious and beautiful boy takes up most of my time (phew, if feels good to brag about how marvelous he is.) But I suspect the day will come when I need to lean on this blog again. There will be questions about progesterone shots, bleeding and a cerclage. There will be musings about how to mind a toddler when you are supposed to stay in bed. At least I hope there will be. Not to say that I look forward to another complicated pregnancy. But I look forward to having another kid. If I am honest with myself, I would really like 4 or 5 (I am totally serious.) But on account of my body, 2 may be the limit. One, may actually be the limit. Who knows. I fear speculating.

I just love that I have this blog, and that I can read about everyone else's experiences too. It is just rad that this world, this place, exists for me-- and for you. So even though my posts are becoming few and far between, and won't forget how I am like you, and how you are like me. And I won't ever stop dreaming that all of you some day get what I am so amazingly fortunate to have. A child.

Oh, and the boy is sitting up! Joy!

Show and Tell - May 3, 2009

It has been a long time since I participated in Mel's Show and Tell, but I made some cool stuff this week that I wanted to show. Even better, when I made my way to LFCA I read that Mel's book went on sale this week. How freaking cool is that! I LOVE the name. It feels like a sweet nod to the IF blogging community to use our lingo.

Anyhow, on to show and tell. I have been sewing a lot lately. Friends of ours, who I was somewhat estranged from during our m/c's and pregnancy, have a daughter who is turning 1 at the end of the month. She was conceived 2 weeks after our last loss. So I am still sometimes reminded that our baby would be 2 weeks older than her. But instead we have a gorgeous 5 month old boy - that we love more than anything. I have been making little things for our friends little girl because she is super cool, but also to make up for our absence during her first months of life. I just completed this dress for her birthday gift. She is a pretty rough and tumble little thing... So I am not sure how she will like it, but....



I also made a little stuffed birdie for D. for an easter gift. He fell in love with it and chews ravenously on its little head:) Last week, on a walk to the post office, D. set the birdie free. We retraced our steps, but she was off to greener pastures. Last night I finally got around to making a new one. He was so happy this morning. It is soaked through. Eww.

Still alive, kinda...

I don't get sick very often. I save myself for high-drama medical events. But Saturday night I woke up with a terrible sore throat. I hoped it was an allergy, but alas, I spiked a fever about an hour ago and my nose is running like a faucet. I am worried about the boy, worried that I have spread my nasty funk to him. To make matters worse, it has been stupid hot here for days. We're talking well into the 90's... What up global warming!

So DH is upstairs attempting to put the boy down with a bottle of b00by milk. I think it was going well, and them I heard the crib rail fall. Damn thing, when we either of us ever get the hang of it.

Anyhow. I hope he sleeps, because i am just hot, inside and out. And to have his sweaty little body against me is just too much. I need to be well, so I can take care of his cute little butt!

So I did something bad. I started reading this damn book on sleep habits. Ya know, people lived for millions of years with out these little baby guides. But I was a little worried that the boy was not getting enough zzzzz's. His bedtime was getting later and later, and he was waking up later and later, which I hate. So I am holding to it. At least making concerted attempts at 2 solid naps a day. One in the morning, one in the afternoon - and crib only! It seems to be going really well. On the first day his bedtime bumped up to 8pm and wake time to 7am! I am siked. and while everyday will not be perfect, we are making strides.

Did I tell you how much I hate, I dread, I loath the heat? Anything about 70 degrees ad I get pretty cranky. Anything in the 90's and well, you don't want to be near me. It is a constant stream of abscenities and complaints..... Please!!! Make this shitty, swampy-ass, summer-like crap go away!

Laughs Hysterically

Dr. Sears said this would happen...

The plight of the b00b

I love nursing. In fact, the thought of giving it up already makes me a little sad. It is such a special time with my little dood. And I love the slowness of it...

But lately, it is making me exhausted. This week baby D. is feeling pretty mama-centric. I get home either at 5pm or 8pm - and no matter which, he literally wants to nurse from then on till bedtime. It is like literally having the life sucked out of me. I find a few minutes to eat some super, nurse some more and then have to eat again! It has gotten to be a little much.

And to top it off, he takes A LOT of breast milk from the bottle. Today, while I was at work for a mere 5 hours, he consumed 11 ounces of breast milk! I don't even make that much in 5 hours! I think it is just that he eat more from the bottle than the breast. But the thing is that my stock is dwindling. I am not even sure why I am freezing it when it gets thawed a day or two later. And waking up at 5 am to pump is not fun either! I don't want to introduce formula, so if anyone has recommendations for a lady with a piggy for a baby - let me know.

After my 5am pump last night I lay in bed unable to get back to sleep. I started worrying about if I could have another. Will my uterus abide? Will it be misbehavin? Will preventitive measures do the trick? Its too early to really think about it... but....

Hello world

I miss you.

Post Baby Body

Recovering from bedrest sucks. This is now the second time that I have thrown out my back since D. was born. It it terribly painful. I can barely walk. The chiropractor helped. At least he stretched me out enough so i could walk on my own. I swore I would never eat another meal in bed...... arg.

As for the remaining commentary on my post-pregnancy bod...

I think the average woman would probably reach through the internet to strangle me for saying this, but... I think I need to loose some weight, er something. I have never been someone who thinks a whole lot about my figure. I suppose that is because I have been pretty fortunate. I am of a medium build. I have been blessed with a flat tummy and a slender waist. I have an average sized chest and a big round booty, both of which I have been quite satisfied with.

I had trouble gaining weight during my pregnancy. But in the last 2-3 weeks I really packed it on. Breast feeding was a god-send, helping to peel the pounds off pretty quick. I don't know if I am back to my pre-pregnancy weight. But I do know that compared to some I have been really lucky. My boobs are still pretty huge, despite having shrunk a bit since I gave birth.

But I am sick of wearing ill-fitting maternity shirts. I am also sick of wearing the tight shirts that I used to wear. I am comfortable in neither. Shirts are complicated because they have to work for nursing. It's also nice if they don't get stretched out throughout the day on account of being hiked up all of the time. The boobs and the clothing dilemmas they create are managable.

It is the jeans that are driving me nuts. I don't look bigger, but I feel bigger. I suspect my hips widened during pregnancy and that is the culprit. Buying jeans is never fun, but I feel like now when I try things on I am inside of a totally different body. Nothing fits right and nothing looks good. I feel frumpy, dumpy and gross. I wear the same jeans ever day cuz they are the only ones that even look ok. My favorite jeans from last year, while they fit, are really uncomfortable in the hips and waist.

I just feel like I am trapped in a strangers body. And when I look in the mirror I see a "mom" with a mom-body.... and I hate it. I always felt a little frisky and hot before. Not that I had the greatest body, but I was curvy and cute. Now I feel drippy, saggy, stretchy and loose. Yes, I know, exercise! But I hate exercising and have never had to before..... Arg. Poor me, right.

Go ahead.
Try to smack me from the other side of the interweb.
I deserve it.

Bligggggity blog

What to do on this very late night
but write on my blog for a bit despite
i am so tired and drained to the bone
cuz the boy has been hanging on my boob since i got home.

the rhythm of this poem has got me down
i decided not to edit even if it makes me frown
it seems best now to mention a few internet friends
some who are triggering and some on the mend

G's ovaries are doing a super job
I am so happy for them I think I might sob.
And Brynn has discovered she loves to nurse
and well, Sara her mom is a nurse!?! (not funny, or rhyming)

And I am happy to say
that I am being so brave
I have bought a ticket on a big ol' airplane
to see my bestest friend
who lives on the the other side of the country.
No drugs to sedate me
cuz i am feeding the boy
i have stopped rhyming all together
cuz i am loosing my mind.

blah blah blah

If you are still reading you are some kind of blogger champ. or just have too much time on your hands. This is where i distract you with pictures of my spawn. Who I love so much that I could just eat him....

Constant changes

I keep thinking I will write these things down somewhere. But here is still the best place since I have grand plans to bind a babybook but have yet to do it...

End of week 9:
Sucking his thumb
Holding and shaking the rattle
Trying to roll from back to side
Smiles are getting even bigger and more frequent
Better head control but still bobbles
Growing back the hair on the top of his head
Loosing the hair in the back
Stinky farts! (what did I eat?)

The thumbsucking, while I am unsure of how I feel about it, has been a life saver. He can now put himself back to sleep without us having to get up to put the nuk in. So he is only waking at 2am and 6 am for feedings. And sometimes he skips the 6 am. My b00bs feel like they might explode by morning. But we are all enjoying hours of uninterrupted sleep - which is lovely.

I got some patterns for some overalls. I just need to run out for fabric this week. We found that one pieces are much better with the cloth diapers. Pants look uncomfortable... So I am hoping to get more sewing done this weekend:)

More distractions....

Making stuff

I have finally been getting some sewing done. I have been working on some birthday presents, but mainly, I have been altering baby D's clothes. I am a picky mom. I hate little puppies, dinosaurs and the like, plastered all over his clothes. I hate most plaids and love anything striped. So I have been cutting off all the dippy little characters from his clothes and making patches for them. DH has been working on them too:) Here is a sample.

I also just made a foot stool. I always use a foot stool while breastfeeding. I use the term "foot stool" lightly, since my foot stool since D was born has been an old, wooden clementine container. It is fine if I am wearing my slipers, but hurts with just socks. Today I spotted an old piece of foam in the basement and thought it would be good for padding. Then my mom gave me some cool fabric. So I covered the clementine box... Here it is...


Other baby D updates...
He has figured out how to get his hands in his mouth... Very exciting. Here he is sucking on his fist whilst looking at his own picture on Facebook!

And his most favorite thing in the world, right now at least, is to hang out in his crib and swat at his mobile. Hours of entertainment!

My baby ate my blog

I don't know where to start.
I miss blogland. I miss checking lost and found every day to see how everyone is doing.
I feel like I crossed over to the dark side. Like I am no longer welcome in the world of TTC, bedrest, IF, etc.
I just can't keep up.
I am sick of one handed typing, so all commenting has come to an end. I do read though.

All is well.
I am content. And busy. And thankful.
Despite my body's perpetual failures in the reproductive sense, my boobs work pretty good. So that is excellent. He is growing like a weed.
Cloth diapering is going well.
Sleep is sparse but managable. He is actually a good sleeper, but has been congested for 4 weeks now with the cold that just won't die. So that has been wrecking any chance for really good sleep.
He is smiling.
He is cooing.
He is opening his hands more.
He grabs my bra and tickles my side when he nurses.
He smiles in his sleep.
He loves to be on the change table.
He loves to play in his crib.
He sleeps good in the swing... at night.
He is not too fond of the daytime nap.
He is less interested in sleeping on us than he used to be.
He is warm and cuddly.
He is a good traveler.
He is a good nurser.
He has his moments, although pitching fits is not really his thing.
He was over 13 pounds at last check.
His cloth diapers give him a big, pudgy butt:)

I am still not so comfortable in my skin as a mother.
I love him a whole lot.
I miss him when I am away.
I am sure he was worth everything I went through to bring him into the world.
I am healthy and back to "normal" says my OB.
I am scared to have sex on account of the trauma my parts went through.
I will have to have a cerclage if I ever get pregnant again. And P17 shots.
I am still who I was before. Just distracted.

For those of you who use Face.book, you surely know about the "25 things" meme going around. Well, the latest meme is called "First Born." It is for moms to remember stuff about their first pregnancy, birth and child. No one has tagged me. Guess nobody really wants me to relive that. What really pisses me off about that damn "first born" meme is the question: WAS IT NATURAL OR C-SECTION?
WTF?
"Natural"
That word pisses me off to no fucking end. Was it natural? No. It was really fucking unnatural. I mean, is there anything really "natural" about having your crotch ripped in two? Is that somehow more natural than having a doctor cut your skin? Be it an episiotomy or a cut across your abdomen? And then to see people answer all cheery, "Yes, all natural!!" I have yet to see someone answer, "No, it was unnatural."

In the end it reminds me of the dreaded question: How many pregancies have you had? Followed but the other dreaded: How many live children do you have? They should make a FB mame for IFer's and those with recurrent loss. Wouldn't that be fun.

Damn fertiles are all the same. They are just so into their ability to procreate with such ease. I am less salty about it than I used to be. But it is still irritating.

I have no idea where I am going with this post. Or whether I should even continue to write on this blog. Months of bedrest is fading into the distance, along with the rest of my pre-baby life. I have a bad memory anyhow. But "new mom dumb" takes the cake. I am way dumber than miscarrige me, pregnancy me or bedrest me. I am pretty dull. Happy. But dull.

So I will distract you with cute photos of the boy I tried so much to have and finally did. I'd be an ass to not admit that I love him more than life. Because I do.

Finding the time

I am posting directly into blogger. Usually I write elsewhere then cut and paste - but time is short, so you'll just have to read this typos and all.

Baby D. has been sick. I somehow thought that newborns got a free pass on sicknesses. Nope. They catch colds just like you and me. So at the ripe age of six weeks my poor little guy is all full of boogies. He seems to have had 2 peeks already. Once with a sight fever that sent us to the doctors. But really, all we can do is saline in the nose and use the boogie sucker. Works good enough. Except those panic moments in the middle of the night when I wake up to the sound of him choking on his own snot. It sucks.

Despite the illness, the boy is good. He is a pretty easy baby and a pretty good sleeper. He is starting to give us the hint of a smile here and there, which is awesome. Usually it is when he is on the change table:)

We started in with cloth diapers this week. Not full time, but as much as we can manage... Trying to save some money.

Ok... So, the boy is crying, and this post is boring. More later about the biggest soupiest asspolsion I have ever witnessed!

In addition to the post below about web identity

I should be more generous.
My MIL uses an image of my son in her profile because she is excited to be a grandmother - and that is a good thing.
Some days I want to hide away with my little guy, and keep all the world from him - even those who love him.
But it is not good for him... or for us as a family.
Today I will think about being more generous.

Your web identity (and mine)

I am on Fa.ce.bo.ok.
I was before and then "erased" myself because I thought the whole thing was creepy. But then about a week before D. was born I started going on it again. It proved a great way to announce D.'s arrival to the world. Many of my friends use it, as does DH's extended family. Horray for social networking.

But I wonder about the images we post as we expose our lives to the world. What is the picture we paint? And this goes for our blogs too. Here, I am the girl with the miscarriages, the septum, the incompetent cervix and finally... One of the ones lucky enough to give birth to a real live baby. But, of course, we are all more than this little window we open to the world.

But back to Fa.ce.bo.ok - cuz it is such a weird beast. There we have a "profile" to expose both our physical selves, but also to list all those things we deem significant enough to represent us to the world. What gets left out here?

But it is not the "profile" or the idea of "friends" that has my panties all in a bunch. It is the images that we choose to represent ourselves that I can not figure out. I vowed never to make D. part of my profile picture. It started out when I realized some of my very conservative family members were very formulaic in their choices of profile pics. It was that the women always posted a picture of themselves with their husbands. Not once, always. It was never just them... Like, here I am - just me - the independent lady. It was always: Here I am wife to this dude to my left. Blech.

Then after having D. I realized that 90% of the folks my age were posting pics of their kids instead of themselves, and I thought that was really weird too. Then finally I was friended by a woman who ONLY has pictures of her kids. Not one of herself. Dag. She's done gone disappeared herself all together. She is nothing but her kids?

I know. It is just Fa.ce.bo.ok. Who cares, right? It is not like this is a true picture of ones identity. But as women, as mothers, as wives, as partners, as former and current infertiles (however we define that) how do we choose to represent ourselves online?

I just know that I am me. Yes, D. is more than me. I put him first and will always. And he will be part of my identity and also part of my "profile." But where is the line that women draw between themselves and their family members? When does our family consume us? And have we thought about what it means to freely pass the image of our children around? What about their identity? They have no say in the distribution of their image.

Dunno.
And I am friends with some of you who read this and who do have pictures of your babies or family as your profile... Please don't think I am judging you. I am not. I am just considering this, curious really. Hell, right now I have a picture of me with my cat. In my sick head I was using this image to make up for how I have neglected him (the cat) over the last weeks:) As if he knows I posted it.

But I think what I have the hardest time with was seeing that my MIL has now swapped out the profile picture of her and FIL to a picture of just my baby D.
My
Baby
D.

Mine. Belonging to me. My son.

She has overstepped me. She has consumed and distributed the image of my son as a representation of herself. Somehow, my son is who she is? And that really bothers me. It makes me sad that I did not consider better how his image would be in the virtual world. Who might take it, use it and pass it around. It also makes me feel terribly possessive. It does not help that she is also posting a daily status about him like his birthday, his weight, etc. But she is also openly discussing how productive my breasts are with her sisters on her wall? WTF? I am a person. Not a cow. I am a mother to D. But I am still me.

Some thoughts on this?