The Right to Choose

I was not a happy pregnant woman. I was a screaming, shouting, crying, (binge) eating bitch on wheels who, by week 39, was researching natural means of induction to make the misery end. Up sixty pounds and down to my last nerve, I asked my doctor if they would consider inducing me on my due date. He refused - 'You don't want Pitocin, trust me! - but told me he would schedule a C-Section for 41 weeks if I was that desperate. I wasn't. It never occured to me that a vaginal delivery was a choice - C-sections were for emergencies, weren't they? Apparently not. Christina Aguilera told People magazine she schedule a c-section because of the horror stories she heard about tearing. My boss suggested that I schedule a c-section then I would know exactly what day I would be giving birth (which would help with planning maternity leave, one guesses). After asking friends, I found out a few wouldn't consider conceiving without knowing their doctor would perform an elective C. And I was - and am - horrified.

Entering into parenthood is the ultimate in unselfish acts. A biological mother shares her body for nine months before sharing her life for (God willing) ever with her child(ren). Before I even met my daughter, I endured stretch marks, hemroids, and heart burn that could burn the eyebrows off your face in anticipation of her arrival. As I type this, my pillow-y lower belly (now beautifully creased with purple stripes) rests softly on my keyboard, stretched beyond recognition of my former self. And she was worth it. Being a first time mother, you are facing the ultimate unknown and, quite frankly, labor was the least of my worries. I knew that at some point, "the time" would come and what would be, would be. I had concerns about if it would hurt (it did), if I would poop on the delivery table (I didn't), and the thought of an episiotomy was even more frightening to me then a natural tear (And tear I did). But most of my worrying was focused on the health of my unborn child, my untested parenting skills, the impact a new child would have on my relationship with my husband - I don't know, the things that really matter.

Parenthood has changed me in so many ways - physically, emotionally, mentally. And the process began with my pregnancy. If I can do it, you can too. If you're starting your journey as a parent by taking the easy way out, you're in trouble.

Close to the Surface

Maggie and I already have so much in common - and she's only six months old! She likes to nap, I like to nap. She gets grouchy when you take her food away, I, too, have been known to be upset in a similar situation. She has a sassy sense of style, I... well, I dress her, so I guess that's all me. But the thing that I like best about my daughter is something that I am unable to do and that is her uncanny ability to feel her feelings. Little Baby Bipolar knows what she wants, when she wants it, and she's not shy about letting you know how she feels. I have been open hand slapped by her chubby little sticky formula encrusted paw at the end of feedings and say what you want - it wasn't an accident. The INSTANT she's had enough of the Exersaucer, she cries like she's making Sophie's Choice. And I LOVE IT.

As I might have mentioned before, I have a lot of feelings myself. And they're close to the surface, right there under my freckly, Irish skin. My feeling them... well, that's a whole different ball game. I like to talk about my feelings - I would be more then pleased to schedule a conference call with a friend long distance just to explain EXACTLY how I was feeling at one specific instant in my life (and I do sometimes - hi Whitney! I miss you!) but, even when I am deeply engrossed in conversation about how I feel... I'm not really feeling it. I have an out of body type relationship with my emotions and that's hard for me to admit. The soft squishy feelings I don't do so well and I'm trying to work on it, at the advanced age of 23 (I'm Irish Catholic and I hate everybody. Rage, I am good at). I don't want Maggie ever to think that it's not okay to cry or that she has to keep something from me because I don't "get" it or that I don't care because I do... so much so that I could cry, if I was into things like that. And I'm working on it, really, maybe even too much. People have begun to register complaints (Hi Caitlin! I love you!) that I have TOO many feelings - is there such a thing? How DO you strike a happy medium between being in touch with your feelings without covering other people in them? Do any loyal readers have any advice on this subject? Do I have loyal readers?

So feel your feelings, Baby Maggie. Because, in this life, to get to the great joy, you sometimes have to feel the great sorrow. And it's worth it, my little baby friend. SO worth it.