It's Getting Closer to "That Time"!

Today my Dad purchased my little one's crib and baby dresser. I was very nervous for some strange reason, as if the purchase of these nursery items in some way made my impending Mommyhood more real than say, oh I don't know, my ever-increasing belly and the human being moving around in it. I was pregnant once before, in late August of last year, and by October I had a miscarriage. It was a very painful time for me and because of that loss I think I got a little superstitious, because I have refused to allow myself to buy anything for the baby, you know, just in case. Buying his crib and baby dresser is kind of like me saying to myself, "My baby is here to stay". It's a good feeling, but a little scary as well. I'm at 29 weeks though, only 11 more to go, so I think it's okay for me to do a little positive affirmation in the form of good ol' retail therapy! My Mom and cousin have so very kindly volunteered to come over during the next couple of weeks, send me off to a friend's house for the weekend, and get my apartment ready for the baby's arrival. How great is that? I'm really grateful my cousin will be here to assemble the crib and dresser because I assembled a computer table once and, well, let's just say that the outcome was the slightest bit disastrous. He will do a much better job, I'm sure. Not that it has anything to do with the whole "men are just better at assembling than women are" thing at all. My cousin is so gay he has requested that my son call him Auntie. I just suck at putting furniture together.

My Baby Shower is set for the first Saturday in August. I know, I know, you're not supposed to know about your own Baby Shower, but whatever. I'm nosy; sue me. One of my best friends, my Mom, and others in my Motley Crew have put together what I think will be a fabulous party, mostly because they love me enough to have taken the time, energy, and money to make it happen. I'm very excited because after 13 years of fertility issues, and attendance at a whole slew of other people's Baby Showers, I never thought I'd actually be going to my own one day!

I keep reminding myself that I'm a pretty lucky woman. Some people don't have family and friends who love them and offer them support to the extent that mine does. My kid's pretty lucky too; he's gonna be spoiled something serious. Just not spoiled rotten. Spoiled rotten kids get on my friggin' nerves.

One of the Best Sayings Ever

I've been going through a tough time this past weekend. Medieval jousts of epic proportions with my son's father have taken a toll on my level of emotional fortitude. I could barely sleep because of the unbridled fury I was feeling. Not exactly one of my most shining moments thus far.

I read a saying a couple of weeks ago, however. "If you don't like something, change it. If you can't change it, change how you look at it." This saying has brought me a new-found ability to take murderous impulse and transfer it into a budding sense of peace. I now have the power to change my perspective on any given situation, and that is a power that no one can take from me. I have used it often since coming across it, and it has served me well. I pray that it will serve you just as well during times of need. I cannot tell you how grateful I am for it. It has kept me from poisoning my mind and the energy of this Universe with visions of homicide. I am eternally indebted to it because, let's face it, my hospital has got to be a better place to give birth to this little boy in than the prison hospital ward at Riker's Island.

Life Is Good

I'm sitting here at work realizing that my life is pretty darn good. I'm going to be a Mommy in less than 3 months. After 13 years of infertility issues, and being told that the likelihood of my becoming a biological mother was a bit slim, here I am, big as a house, about to bring a little boy into this world. I have parents who are loving and supportive of who I am and all that I do. I have friends who shore me up when I have my lapses of strength, spiritual maturity, and of course, sanity. I have a job that pays well enough that I've been able to put away a significant amount of money so that I can stay at home with my little one long after my 12-week paid maternity leave is over. I have a wonderful retired woman in my life who I've known for 18 years that looks forward to watching my little one when I need childcare. I have an apartment in Manhattan, in the middle of it all, with 2 neighbors in my building I've basically grown up with and are like family to me. I've had a wonderfully uneventful pregnancy (well, aside from the 8 weeks of extreme Morning-Noon-Night Sickness that made me lose 7 pounds) and all signs are that my kid is healthy (and by the ever-increasing kicks to my kidneys, quite strong as well). Sure, things may not be ideal in the sense that I don't have the husband, the house, the cars and the picket fence. But having thoroughly mourned the loss of "The Dream", I can now look at all the beauty that surrounds me. Life is good, and it's just getting better.

Getting Ready For The Next 21 Years

So, I had a very minor meltdown in relations with my unborn son's father today. What the issue was is far less relevant than the fact that I allowed myself to get very, very angry about his response to it. After taking several minutes to keep it together enough to be mature enough to force the rage back down my throat, I answered in the least confrontational way possible and he STILL came back at me petulantly. Which just goes to show that sometimes being the mature one is over-rated. In any case, this little exchange between us reminded me that there will be days over the next 21 years of my son's life during which I wish Mr. Father Knows Freakin' Best would just magically disappear from the earth. Not wishing any harm to befall him mind you, just that he would be pulled into an alternate universe where your child's father sits in limbo until he realizes that petulance will not be tolerated under any circumstances. Once he understands and acknowledges that he is to be agreeable at all times with me, Super Mama, he may then be allowed to rejoin our universe.

A woman has the right to dream, dammit.

I think what happened today is that I got a whiff of how much of a challenge it will be over the course of the next 21 years to navigate the vast, craggy canyon that lies between he and I, and more so, how difficult it will be when navigating that canyon concerns our son. I almost envy those species in the wild that get to mate and leave their partners, never to be troubled with the father insisting he has dominion over the creature that has taken residence in your womb; the creature that will be expelled, bloodily, painfully, miraculously, from your body; the creature which your body will nurse and nourish at the expense of your energy and vitality. These days I watch nature specials as wistfully as some people watch home design shows, "Ooh, I want that."

I know, I'm being selfish. My kid deserves to have a father in his life who concludes he has the right to make decisions on his son's behalf. Better I should let him believe that, yes?

Yeah. I guess.

Single and Pregnant!

Well now, how do I start this? Let's see; this February, at 2 and a half months pregnant, I had to break up with my fiancé. He and I have known each other for 20 years (as friends, then lovers, then friends, then . . . well, you get the picture), and after 19 years of waiting for our "someday", we got together last year thinking, "Finally, our someday has arrived!"

Uhm, not exactly.

We had always loved each other very much as friends, but we were so wildly incompatible as a couple that we almost killed ourselves (and each other) trying to make it work, so we ended up having to go our separate ways. I knew I was pregnant, but I also new that if he stayed, we weren't doing anybody any good, much less the baby, especially since it got pretty bad there at the end. Was it difficult ending a relationship with someone you had loved for so long? Uhm, yeah. Was I furious and unstable and hormonally homicidal? Yup. Absolutely. I'll be 7 months pregnant this coming week however, and all in all I am doing phenomenally well. Quite surprisingly so. I still get geysers of anger (he gets to be single-man-about-town, and I'm home alone -- gestating), flashes of shame (I'm 34 years old, shouldn't I be MARRIED by now first, and then having the kid? I can't believe I'm pregnant and single . . . how humiliating), and pouting fits of self-pity at having to go it alone through one of the most difficult things a woman could ever do.

The thing is, these internal roller coaster rides come much fewer and further in between. Somewhere within, I decided that in order to live this life of mine in a way that made any kind of sense to me, I had to lead an authentic life. I could not be what someone else expected a woman or a wife to be. I could not fit my square peg into his round hole. I tried, believe me. It almost killed me. I was dying. I came so undone that I got to a place as close to emotional death as is humanly possible and stayed there for 3 whole days - while pregnant. I will never come undone like that again. Not like that. And to be fair to him, he also could not be what I expect in a man, he has his own path to follow, one that could not be deterred by my musings on manhood. He needs to be who he is, and it's just not going to work for me. So I wrapped myself up in what little strength I had left and ended it. He made it quite easy, actually. Don't misunderstand me, he is not a malicious person. I cannot vilify him. It's just that he and I will never be what the other needs in this life.

I've had a few significant relationships before and I was hoping that this was going to be "the one". But you know what? Maybe, just maybe, I am one of those people for whom "Til death do us part" doesn't work. Maybe I can only be at my happiest in this life when I take relationships in doses. Maybe I need to be alone in life, just as much as I need to be in a committed relationship. I'm not sure what that will mean for my life, and if my little one will grow up seeing Mom as eccentric because of it, or just accept me as I am. I do know that my kid will be exactly who he is meant to be, who he came to this earth to be, and whether that means falling in love once and staying with that person for the rest of his life, or evolving in this life through the lessons of many gifts of love over time, we shall see. But, when I look at the trajectory of my life, when I feel the ineffable blessing that is my little one swimming around inside of me, I gather strength in my ability to live this life on my own terms, no matter how scary and painful that can be sometimes, and I relish in the hope that has returned, the belief that this adventure of mine promises to hold more joy than I could ever know, and the reality that this little boy within me will have a Mommy he can be proud of.