Things I will not Facebook about when this baby arrives

39 weeks, advanved maternal age, babies, first pregnancy, motherhood, pregnancy, third trimester

39 weeks (tomorrow), 50% effaced (my doula said to decline internal exams, but I couldn’t help it at my appointment¬†yesterday and was like: “reach in there and feel my cervix thankyouyesplease”), my husband has the worst case of the flu I’ve ever seen (trying not to be mad at him for it and play the convincing role of “Concerned Wife: late 30’s, blonde, could give birth at any momo. She’s not afraid to sequester her husband in a separate room and get annoyed every time she hears him hack up a lung without covering his mouth, but also feels bad for him and makes soup, does grocery store runs to get Gatorade and drugs…and secretly follows him around with disinfectant wipes, scouring down every surface he touches), and I fins myself paying extra close attention to the Facebook status of new moms on my feed.

I’m going to vow here and now, (with clear eyes and an open mind that I might, ok probably will, do ALL these things once baby fever hits me and I fall in total love with this creature that I have been growing), that I will NEVER post on FB:

1. The sleeping patterns of myself and our baby. Because really…an adult getting 4 hours of sleep and celebrating publicly isn’t really interesting, is it?

2. Ask things in a status that I can easily google. Because…the internet. And if I really have a question that demands a trusted answer, I will private message the moms that I know, individually, not in some big group message that they (with their own spitting up, pooping, crying baby) will have to eventually bow out of.

3. Put ANY photos of my labor and delivery story up. Any. None of the before, the DURING, or the immediately after.

3. Put braggy pictures of myself without makeup on, my sleeping newborn curled on my chest. ¬†Duh, I will have make up on. What’s the point of a braggy new mom pic with the perfect newborn I don’t look radiant with the help of a little macaca and Nars orgasm blush?

4. Posts about how we’re “so blessed”. This really gets me. And I know people do it all the time with the best of intentions…but what is this really saying? That some being, some one, some deity, is sitting somewhere, blessing some of us humans, and then with others just being all “nahhhh, you’re not gonna be blessed, sorry sucka!”. And what if something were to happen to me or the baby during labor…does that mean I was blessed with a great pregnancy, but then whoever dishes out these blessings, decided that I shouldn’t be blessed with a healthy baby? I know this is a cynical attitude…but I just have enough friends and people I care about who have had huge problems becoming mothers, that to say I’m “blessed” because I have had a baby would just be a kinda dick thing to say. Don’t get me wrong…this whole pregnancy/baby making thing is A FREAKING MIRACLE, like, I can’t wrap my little human brain around it, even now…but all species procreate, and I doubt monkeys or fish or worms go around thinking they are blessed because they did what their bodies just naturally do. I will be grateful, and might express that, but I will not let all my facebook friends know that I’ve been blessed.

5. Selfies of me and baby. Because public selfies are bad enough. Why subject an innocent being to a world or narcissism he will come to know alllllllll in good time? Plus by the time he’s old enough to know what a selfie even is, I’m sure it’ll be a relic from the past, like record players, VHS tapes, and J.Crew mock roll down turtlenecks.

6. Declare FB a “no baby” zone. There’s the high and mighty “I’m going to break my NO FACEBOOK PICTURES OF BABY rule and just put this adorable video of River dancing to One Direction…” type status that I’m kinda over as well. I get it. You don’t want to exploit your baby, or have FB creeping around with their advertisers all up in your baby business. Totally understandable. But who are you? A Kardashian? Princess Kate? I think if we are friends of Facebook, I probably want to see at least a few pics of you and your precious bundle..especially after a few weeks when he/she is cute and doesn’t look like a little old blob of a man. Don’t over do it. Like, I don’t need to see a million photos…but let us all know that everything is ok, give us a visual aid so we can put a face to the name, and let us see, every once in a while, how things are progessing with the little guy/gal. Promise I won’t sell the image to TMZ.

 

The Waiting Game and What’s up With the Obsession With Using Acronyms on Message Boards?

37 weeks, advanved maternal age, babies, change, first pregnancy, first time dads, husbands, in-laws, motherhood, pregnancy, third trimester

Ok ladies and gents, I still don’t know what “LO” “DS” or “DH” mean on these pregnancy boards. The use of acronyms is out of control. Is there a decoder or something? I’ve been googling the crap out of the internet lately and pregnant women write in code 1/3 of the time. I’m in the pregnant club! So I feel like I should be able to translate!

37 weeks today.
How do you play these last zero to 21-ish days? Officially full term and shhyyyyyat has gotten real. Full blown nesting (what did people do before the internet to keep them busy and Amazon Prime for all the last little things they need?!), belly dropping, food passing right through me (tmi, but I guess the emptying out is a big sign), crazy hysterical crying in the middle of the night because I’m worried my husband has enough on his plate with his own life and throwing a baby into the mix is going to spell a word that rhymes with “schmivorce”.

I haven’t written in a while because everything seems like it’s already been written about: the funny body pillow routine, the heartburn, the shower, the third trimester aches and pains, the lists of how to prepare, advice on anything you can imagine. This last trimester I’ve pretty much been on cruise control (i.e. boring stuff that no one needs to read about).

There have been two things that have happened that I didn’t expect:

1. Pain. Like I’m being kicked in the vagina pain. I did take a slip in the snow and went down like a tipped cow a few weeks ago. I felt pretty well padded with the snow and my puffy coat…and it could’ve been coincidence, because the baby dropping down and getting bigger does cause pain, but the day after that I could hardly walk. A chiropractic appointment and massage where the lady was actually massaging the ligaments that attach to my sit bones…yes…right all up in there, really helped FYI. I feel like I’m back. Dare I say…comfortable.

2. Loneliness. I don’t know what’s going on in the marital department. I’m going to set up my husband’s behavior with an anecdote that involves his blood line:

The mother-in-law said a month ago that she looked at our registry and wanted to buy our mattress. AMAZING! It’s one of our more expensive items (and by “our” I mean snobby, paranoid, picky “ME” who suddenly wants my baby to only sleep on organic cotton), and a necessity we haven’t purchased. My parents have poured a small fortune into this grandchild, so my husband and I felt comfortable letting his mom take on this luxury item.

Weeks go by. No mattress. She emails me to say that she found one made of soy foam that is cheaper and would I take a look at that.
Ok. Sure. I take a look, and suggest to her that she buy one or two or three of the gazillion other things we need off the registry, or give us a gift card for whatever she’s comfortable with that we can put towards getting the mattress I obsessively researched and picked out. “No, if the $259 mattress is the one you want, that’s what you should have” is the response.

So now I feel like an asshole. Husband is getting peeved that his mom won’t just get the damn mattress like she offered, that’s she’s been pretty absent this whole pregnancy, that he had to ask her if she was excited to be a grandma to which she responded “Am I excited? I mean, I’m happy for YOU”. And the friggin mattress is still on the registry and I’m boring you to death writing about.

POINT BEING: she’s on her own time, is doing this at her convenience, isn’t thinking about making our lives a little less stressful…or putting me in a position to defend my registry choices, or worrying that the baby could be early, or blah blah blah. And it’s fine. She’s not my mom. We have places for the baby to sleep. We can buy our own mattress. But…

I see the same thing in my husband. This “I’ll do it tomorrow”, this procrastination, this inability to think ahead, or plan things out for the future, or GET IT DONE so the reward of being able to relax and feel secure can happen. And he’s operated like this in small ways from the get-go 9 months ago…painting himself into corners with money, with time, with his career, with his health, with getting our apartment ready. I guess I assumed that having a baby and becoming a parent creates a universal shift in the human species. That he would change right along with me. That he would be buying onesies that say “I love my mom”, and pedicures for me, and actively assembling the nursery, and worried about the air quality in our home and always thinking “what does my pregnant wife need? What can I do?” I pee a thousand times a night…like maybe get that night light I asked for?
But then I think that I’m a big girl and I can do/get/buy/assemble anything. I’m not sick. I’m pregnant. And I feel like an asshole again.
How entitled are we during this 9 month gestational time? I feel like I have to detach from him, pull away and let him struggle as he grapples with this weird resistance and inertia and procrastination. He’s not really there for us, so I need to be there for me, and let him…what?

This all came out last night at 3am in a big, heaving, crying, curled up in the fetal position, bawl. I couldn’t believe it. Again…me..with the crying. What the hell?

I have an amazing husband. He loves me. I love him. We have a lot of fun and tenderness and understanding between us. But I keep replaying in my head all the blog posts and friend’s stories about how “ammmmaaaaazzzing” their husbands were, and I can’t say that. My husband has been really disappointing and it scares me to the core. We are in our late 30’s and, I thought, ready for this. Ready to make a shift. Ready to welcome this responsibility. But maybe the older you are, the harder it is to change, to break routines and habits, to change the narrative you’ve told yourself your whole life.

Great.