Week 15

We have officially moved into week 15 and those maternity pants have come in quite handy. Every time I put them on (twice now), I think to myself that I am going to make a Sesame Street doll called the "Panel Me Elmo." Not sure who my market is but it definitely amuses me and assuages my vanity when I put on my highly flammable pants that are all for the greater good of Family.

When we were in LA, Jeff took me on a tour of one of the golf courses he used to frequent when he was a young co-ed at UCLA. It's the cutest little park in the fanciest neighborhood. I swear I saw Gwen Stefani and her brood having a picnic over by the 5th hole. Jeff and I wandered over to the playground area and sat on a bench watching the super rich Southern California kids, clad in Hannah Anderssen, play in the sand and on the swings. We stared in silence. I was thinking about how one day sort of soon we'll be the type of people who know our way around a playground (and I'll probably know my way around Hannah Anderssen!). We had an honest conversation about how overwhelming this adventure is when we really think about it. It's what I like most about my marriage so far (almost 8 weeks and counting): Jeff and I usually audibilize (is that a word?) whatever emotion or thoughts come through our heads. I feel safer knowing that my partner is just as scared as I am. In some ways it makes it feel safer and more OK to be scared about what's coming. Or WHO'S COMING!!! Before I swore off baby books, I read over and over again that's "normal" and "natural" to be apprehensive about becoming a parent. I like to roll that comforting tidbit around in my head over and over again.

Another place that offers some measure of comfort is a chat group I joined through the Babycenter.com for mothers expecting children in July 2009. Mothers post musings about being sad to be fat or devastated they are having another boy. I find it comforting to know it goes with the territory to be anxious, moody and WORRIED. I do get into trouble there when I read the posts about a mother getting "bad" news from a genetic test. I get so upset to learn about disabilities I had never heard of, which adds to my already abundant bag of worries. But, when I reign in the morbidity, I can draw a lot of comfort and humor from the other mothers out there worried about anything from their mother-in-law's comments to how to discipline a child that is still a 14-week-old fetus.


Most of the time, I can breathe and remind myself that I am not in charge of any of this. My job is to take care of myself, put on the panel pants, and go on about my life. Beyond showing up for my prenatal visits and eating when Peppermint so directs (like this morning at 4:15 a.m. when I had french onion dip and Tostitos), the rest is really up to Nature and God in some benevolent combination.