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[22 Apr 2014|09:26pm]
I have an unhealthy facebook addiction.

That, or I miss adult social companionship.

Either way, must sleep now.


While there's still time.
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[22 Apr 2014|02:38pm]
abandon sleep all ye who enter here
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the elusive eight. [22 Apr 2014|08:53am]
Last night I went to bed around 11, fell asleep around 11:30.

This morning, when Vera started fussing in her bassinet, I glanced at the clock, expecting 4-something, 6 if I was really lucky.


Did Ben let me sleep a full eight hours last night?

I didn't even wake up in the night to pump, or pee or anything.

Did Ben (and my body) really let me sleep a full eight hours?

I don't know what time Ben put her down (4:30, maybe, if she needed to eat at 7:30?), but if he really let me sleep a full eight hours (something that hasn't happened in MONTHS AND MONTHS), he's my hero.

He can play all the video games in the world, if they keep him up till the wee hours intermittently caring for our baby.

(Who, by the way, right now is snoozing in the swing.)

Even the night before, I slept 6 hours which was revelrous.

Eight hours? Of sleep? Is that a thing that can still happen?

Ben is my new hero.

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[20 Apr 2014|12:31pm]
I love my husband. I love my baby. I love them especially much when they're together, like they are now, curled up in a cuddle nap on the bed.

I hate being a parent.

I love Vera.

Does this follow?

I hate the erratic sleep schedule, the impossiblity of sleep when it is possible, the utter madness and chaos of parenthood. I feed her, go to bed at 11, wake at 2, feed her, can't fall back asleep, toss and turn till 4, pass out on the couch, Dad wakes with her at 5 to feed her, stumbling half-asleep baby in arm to the living room where for my sake he feeds her in the dark. No avail, I am awakened anyway. I slump off to the bed, wake at 7 to feed her. She's still in the living room with Dad. He's frantic with sleep loss and the delirium that comes from not being able to console a fussy child for hours, foists her on me, tells me how she gulped down 3 oz from the bottle at 5, fiendishly, then projectile spit up all over him, had to change his boxers while he left her howling on the couch, she had calmed down for a moment but when he tried to lay her down, she regained her strength and went howling again, didn't want to wake me, came back out to the living room, changed her, tried to feed her again, she wouldn't take, had been rocking her, shushing, trying to coax the consciousness out of her. In my arms, as he's telling me this, she falls asleep. We lie her down, crawl into bed together, sleep. I wake at 10 to feed her. She's gassy in my arms. Between boobs I go to change her, can smell she needs a diaper. Don't use the changing table bc Dad's sleeping in there. Get the diaper change mat from the diaper bag, lie it on the couch, and lie her down. Unsnap her onesie. Inside her diaper, there's a pool of liquid yellow, Beck's "Nausea" plays in my head, the consistency of this poop is soupy at best, little chunks floating. Fold up the dipe, toss it, look back at her again, the pee starts spraying, "Oh Vera!" then the diarrhea. Projectile diarrhea. Vera, Vera... All over the place. All over the diaper change mat, her socks, legs, bottom of her onesie. She gets an arm in it. Horrified, I start grabbing baby wipes, madly attempting to keep it from spreading to the couch, as it pools out across the blue surface of the mat. The wipes are useless. I grab her baby blanket from the diaper bag, sop it up as best I can, wipe her in haste and slap a fresh diaper on her ass. My hands and arms are speckled with it. I remove her socks, carefully remove her onsie. Wipe her down as best I can, move her to the couch, grab everything with poo on it and run into the bathroom, spray it off in the shower and throw it in the washer. Run back to the bathroom, baby left on the couch, "Don't move, Vera!", scrub scrub my hands and lather up to elbows at the sink. Rush back to my baby, the sound of the washer pounding, and she's crying, still hungry. I'm losing my mind. "Vera you need to be good or the Easter bunny will take back your pretty dresses and her presents..." Grab her, pop her on the other boob, she's placated for a moment, I look down, my white bra has a brown stain on it (darker than the poop was but I'm thinking all the same) 'How did I miss that?' and look down at her for where I could have missed the poop, and it isn't, it's her stump, her cord stump came off, from when I picked her up and then moved her down to my boob to eat. It must have forcibly come off and I feel terrible. She seems fine, eating, but what if she's in pain? The belly button's bleeding. I let her eat (the second side "dessert" never as long as the first side "dinner"), run carrying her into the bedroom, "Ben! Ben! Her cord stump! It came off! I think it's my fault." He mumbles in his sleep, "It's okay honey, it was loose anyway," but looks at me and sees I'm freaking out. "Call the pediatrician!" I cry. It's after 9:30 by this point, the office would be open. "Or the Babyline?" he asks. "Yes, yes, call the Babyline!" We try calling twice but it drops. The baby seems satiated after eating, he's looking up on his phone what to do for her belly button, it's bloody but not bleeding, meanwhile I'm trying to relay the story of the pee spray and then the poo spray, but he's too focused/tired to really listen, "Clean the area with water and apply Vaseline," he mumbles, turning back over in bed. "Can you do it?" I ask. Begrudging the interruption to his sleep, but with love with Vera, he gets up, takes care of her belly button, I go back out into the living room, there's the stump, right by where I fed her, I must have knocked it off. I pick it up, put it on a cloth wipe on my desk, will deal with it later, take my bra off, dripping milk all over the floor (but what else is new), scrub some soap on the stain right quick and chuck it in the washer with the poopy everything. I go back into the bedroom, where Dad and Vera and now passed out in a cuddle on the bed. "Ben I'm going to take a shower can you watch her did you hear me about the diarrhea--" He nods in half-sleep, kisses Vera's forehead, I go jump in the shower and scrub myself with Ben's hard soap, scrub my arms, scrub my legs. Vigorously wash while telling myself, 'Ok, if I need to pass out, I'll just pass out into the corner of the tub that doesn't have any shampoo bottles.' I've literally kept a corner of the tub empty since late-pregnancy when insomnia set in so I'd have a safe place to pass out to if I need it while I'm showering. During the late-pregnancy when standing (even for the length of a shower) was too much effort (between the insomnia and the insane weight of her) I would frequently sit down for a short spell during showers, haven't used it since being home, but it's comforting. Get out of the shower and realize I'm woozy with exhaustion. (Spent hours yesterday crying with sleep deprivation, Ben holding me, just as a reference.) I peak into the bedroom and they're curled up snoozing, pace into the living room and pass out, completely naked (but what about the leaky breasts, the leaky cunt, the wet hair, the belly band) on the couch. At 11 I hear, "Mommy..." from the other room, Ben tries to rouse me. I hear her fussing. Think, 7 to 11, that's actually pretty generous of her, fall back asleep a moment, "Mommy, baby's hungry." Somehow get up, nuke some veggie sausages, grab a granola bar while they're cooking, he brings her out, "You need to feed her." She's screaming. I've swallowed half a chocolate chip granola bar and eaten half a sausage patty. "Can I finish this?" "No, do you hear her?" "I need food to make her food!" I'm irritable, and scarf down the rest of the patty and throw my half-eaten granola bar on the folding chair-table next to the rocker, sit down, take the baby to the breast, finish eating the granola bar while she's eating from me. Ben gets up for a bowl of cereal, eats it on the couch. I remember that it's not only Easter but 4/20 and although I've never smoked, today would be a great day to try it (I won't). To keep myself awake, I sing "Three Little Birds" in my head, trying to remember the words, trying to impress on myself that "Every little thing, is gonna be all right." Ben opens her Easter package from my MnD. It's darling, a bunny-butt outfit, two Easter bibs, little barrettes and bunny socks. $20 for me and Ben. How much is a babysitter? We should have left by now for Hank's, meeting the family in North County for Easter. After I finish feeding her, Ben takes her, they pass out together on the bed, again. But this point it's close to noon, I make myself a waffle and a cup of instant coffee, intend on getting dressed, end up writing here instead.

Parenting sucks.

I love Vera.

But you don't understand. Or maybe you understand a little better now.

That's all.

They're still sleeping, but she's starting to fuss. Yup, 11 to 1, she's probably hungry again.
I'm a slave to a small screaming puking peeing pooping queen.

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[17 Apr 2014|09:25pm]
Maternity leave ends June 4 (Dad's birthday).
I will have used 3 weeks pregnancy leave, 8 weeks maternity leave, and 1 week family leave.
I will have a remaining 5 weeks family leave to use within one year, paid at 55% of my regular salary (which I've been on so far, and money hasn't been a problem).
Should I use it right away? I'm not sure if I can, bc the WF handbook says employees with the company for less than 1 year (June 10th will be my 1-yr anni) (Could I use 4 days vacation time? Not sure if I even have this. Unpaid time off?). But the handbook also says that California employees are entitled to up to 4 months of leave after having a baby.
So what if I use that extra five weeks in October? Ben and I will be in Chicago for the wedding anyway. What if we took an extended trip so 6-mo-old Vera could get in some quality family time? Being on leave is kind of incredible, and as I mentioned, financially, we're ok. Ben's lucky to have a job he can take with him anywhere. We could stay with relatives (line up a place to stay ahead of time, this time! No couch surfing and NO staying with MnD) or sublet something in Chgo for a couple weeks, then spend some time in Ohio. Maybe we could stay with Stacy. We'd have to rent a car, though. Pubic transit with a baby? Yah thanks no. Or... What if we were really super extra sneaky and made a road trip out of it? Could you do a road trip with a 6-mo-old and maintain sanity? I don't know if Sappho could make it, though. I adore her, but she is gettin' on in years.
But anyway, this is all just stuff to think about! I'm sure work wouldn't be too thrilled to have me come back after 2-1/2 months out just to leave for another month four months after I get back. But it's my right as a new mother in California. And they love me, so they can deal.
Also, MY BABY IS SO BEAUTIFUL IT BREAKS MY HEART. And SHE IS SUCH A GOOD BABY. Sometimes she gets fussy, but usually some tight swaddling and white noise will put her to sleep. She's a champion eater (breast AND bottle, no problem either one), takes frequent naps, is GORGEOUS, makes ADORABLE baby noises, only cries when she needs something "Mom I have a stinky diaper!", LOVES TO CUDDLE, LOVES TO BE LOVED ON (ie today Ben and I probably spent half an hour with her all three of us lying in the bed, baby in the middle, just kissing her perfect plump lil baby cheeks and all over her, cooing how much we love her, and her smiling at us (baby's don't usually smile so young!) and us kissing each other over her and going back to kissing and cuddling our so-loved-girl. Actually, I LOVE that Ben works from home and LOVE that he works second shift. He usually stays up late and takes over her night feedings (11 and 2). I tuck in usually after her 9 pm feeding (not tonight though) and get to sleep till about 5 (THANK YOU BEN I LOVE YOU) (This is a new system btw, as of a couple nights ago, and not a perfect one. I still sometimes wake up at 2 because I become so engorged that I need to feed her or pump- but then I'll usually just pump for 10 min while he gives her a bottle, much faster/less demanding than a 45-min feeding & then I'm back in bed) and then after she eats at 2 he comes to bed. I pick up with the 5 AM feeding, catch a few winks before her 8 am, and try (but usually end up eating breakfast SO HUNGRY by this point) sleeping again till the 11ish feeding. By that one I'm usually exhausted again (at the 5 am I'm bleary-eyed but feed her in the living room so as to let Ben sleep) so I'll feed her in the bed. This lasts till close to noon, when I'll lie her down between me and Ben (BTW I LOVE HIM; I couldn't ask for a better husband or father for my child) and Ben will start waking up (actually usually he starts waking up during the feeding and is then awake by noon when I lie her down on the bed for morning snuggles). Then the three of us lie down together in the bed, it's noon and the day is just starting for our little family, and we kiss and snuggle and all coo that we all love each other, and Vera is happy and fed and alert and loving on the attention from Mom and Dad, and at 12:30 Ben goes to work, I make some breakfast, baby is back to sleep or rocking in her swing in the living room hanging out with us. It's actually (now that we're starting to adjust and figure out how to make this radically life-altering parenting thing work) kind of pleasant. During the day, I'll catch a couple naps when she naps, but most of my time is spent breastfeeding or caring for her. I need to finish my poetry contest application. But it's a good life. I love my baby and my Ben.
Ok ok that's enough rambling. (But you can see why I want to take full advantage of my paid leave!)

All love,
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[16 Apr 2014|01:51pm]
Parenting is maddening. Ben asks, "How do people live like this?"
I have no idea.
I miss being the sole owner of my body, have changed my breastfeeding goal from 6 months to 4 weeks (sorry, Vera), am daydreaming of the pros/cons chart for breast vs bottle. I very rarely have any time for myself, and not in the same way as it was in grad school. This is someone else literally needing me. It's so hard.
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Best of all possible husbands [15 Apr 2014|12:00am]
He is so good with our daughter!
He is so sweet and funny and silly with me, and still thinks I'm beautiful, even with my stretch marks ("lightning bolts on your belly," he calls them) and goes out his way to tell me that I'm beautiful, and make me feel beautiful, sexy even. He's affectionate and completely nonjudgmental, and takes such good care of me and our little V.
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[09 Apr 2014|08:42am]
This morning, after Vera's 5 AM feeding, I put her back to sleep, and slumped into bed. Ben was sleeping on his side, facing the wall. I traced his spine in the early morning light. Tears welled. I thought of how nice it would be, under different circumstances, to crawl into bed at sunrise and awaken my sleeping lover with kisses, to make love and then sleep in till noon. I missed *us.* I missed pre-pregnancy life. Then, even though it's uncomfortable to sleep on my side since Vera's birth, and afraid my binder against his back might bother him, I rolled over, scooched into the middle of the bed (another obstacle-- getting out of bed is hard enough from the very edge where I can more easily throw my legs over the side for leverage to get my body up), and I put and arm around him. He slept. I nuzzled my face into his back and wept, shaking slightly. He slept on. I missed us, and I was envious of his rock, unperturbed slumber. His solid, 6-7 hours a night. I usually get up for two feedings with Vera while he snoozes. I haven't sleep more than 3 consecutive hours (maybe 4 in the hospital) in over a week now. Sleep was hard during pregnancy, too. Even then it was a triumph to sleep a solid 6-- I seem to remember that happening once in the third trimester. Exhausted, I fell asleep on Ben (from close to 6 until her next feeding at 8). I just finished that feeding and put her back to sleep. She's so beautiful. She's my perfect little baby. But yesterday the pediatrician said she has jaundice, and that it's because she isn't eating enough. I've been trying to pump, but the pump leaves my nipples sore (Vera doesn't) and doesn't make much milk. I talked to Aunt Martha yesterday, who is a huge proponent of breastfeeding and really doesn't want me to supplement with formula-- she insists that breastfeeding is a supply-and-demand process, and if I feed Vera more often, and keep on pumping, I will produce more food for my baby. I'm hoping to see a lactation consultant today. Then I can figure out what size flange I need for the pump, which should alleviate the discomfort, and they can show me to feed her so she gets the most breastmilk at every feeding. But at the same time, I am tired I don't even want to leave the house, not even for a lactation consultant appt. Even right now, my brain is screaming at me, BABY IS SLEEPING WHY ARE YOU NOT SLEEPING WHAT THE F GET OFF THE COMPUTER AND SLEEP G D IT. But I need to vent about this. I didn't anticipate being a new mother to be so hard. I love her; she fills Ben and my's whole world. We're crazy about her, and we love being a family. It's really fulfilling. Or at least it was in the first, I don't know, 5 days. But now the sleep deprivation is killing me, and I feel like I can't even hardly enjoy the time I spend breastfeeding, which is usually our special cuddle time. (Oh I just remembered, the dr said given my mental health history, I have to be extra careful about slipping into postpartum depression. Do you think severe sleep deprivation could be a factor in that?) Ok, so Aunt Martha said to persevere, that I'm strong and I can do this. But right now I feel like, how bad would it be if I breastfed most of the time let's say 8/10 feedings/day, and supplemented with formula for 2/10? That would mean 2 less wake-ups. I could get a 6-hour sleep! I need to rest after my c-section. I'm not resting enough. Aunt Martha noticed it when she visited a couple days ago, and yesterday when Ben and I took Vera to the dr, the nurse asked, 'Aww what a sweet baby girl. How old is she?' and I beamed, 'One week today!' Her face went serious, and she asked, 'Why are you here? You should be at home recovering.' I know, I know... I muttered something about wanting to be with my baby at the dr... But it's true. I'm trying to do too much. I want to do it all. But I did just have major surgery, and I need my rest. Yesterday after we got home, Ben tried to convince me that formula wouldn't be so bad; I wouldn't do it all the time, just enough so he could give Vera some feedings and I could sleep a little more. But formula isn't the healthiest thing for my baby, and I want a healthy baby so badly... I want only the best for my little Vera... I love her... I feel like, if I use formula, I'm failing her as a mother. I want to believe Aunt Martha, that my breasts are designed for this, that I'll make more milk. Hopefully I can get into the lactation consultant today and they'll help me help my baby girl.
In other news, I love being Vera's mom. I'm so proud. She's absolutely stunning, a blue-eyed beauty with strawberry blonde hair. (It's long! for a baby.) She's a good baby too, silly and happy, and generally pretty easy to take care of. She only really gets fussy if she's hungry, needs a diaper, or wants some cuddles. She loves cuddles! I wish all my friends in Chicago could magically be transported to SoCal to love her and cuddle with her. I want to introduce her to everyone I love. I want her to have the best life possible. Sometimes, when she's just waking up and her eyes are rested and bright, I'll lean over her crib, and make eye contact with her (or I'll whisper it to her when she's sleeping). 'Vera, you are loved. You are loved, and you are worthy of being loved. I accept you. I love you. You are worthy of great love.' Being a parent has hijacked my life, but it's not all as bad as I make it sound in my feeding rant. It's generally been quite elevating, like I'm floating about the life I used to live, like I've left that person behind, maybe I'll come back for her in a bit, a few weeks at least, but now I'm living this different existence, almost like a god providing for this helpless creature and keeping her alive.
But right now I'm so tired I could die and I wouldn't notice.
I'm going to try calling the lactation consultant again.
Good night
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[05 Apr 2014|10:14pm]
I would rather live in a world without poetry than a world without my Vera.

I'm so sleep deprived, so stressed and hormonal. But she's perfect.

I've never known such love.
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my april fool [02 Apr 2014|10:30pm]
This is really not fair to the rest of the women on Earth, because I have the most beautiful possible baby girl that anyone could ever have.
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I can't wait to go to the hospital bc then I can sleeeeeeeeep. [26 Mar 2014|11:57pm]
Sleep is but a dream.
Wow, that's corny.
But seriously, folks.
I'm 3 minutes from 39 weeks.
It's impossible to get comfortable.
It's not for lack of being tired.
Trust me, I'm exhausted.
But she's too big, too heavy.
And if I can manage to lie down okay,
she kicks me to keep me awake.
So, I'll just subsist on coffee till she comes.
Because resistance is futile.
She owns my life already.
She had the last nine months.
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[25 Mar 2014|08:50pm]
Today the doctor said that if my insurance will cover it, she'll schedule me for a c-section.
A huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.
I've had insomnia from the birthing anxiety.
(I know, I'm not being a good Californian right now.)
But I feel great!
Tomorrow I will schedule something.

Prenatal yoga tonight was wonderful.
I'm officially the biggest belly in the class!
I love it!
Everyone was doting on me today in class too,
complimenting my perfect sphere belly, on other otherwise
perfect yogi body.
So much love!
I want to be healthy for my baby.
I want to send my baby good vibes and joyful energy.
Yoga relieves physical pain and anxiety.

I've had such bad anxiety lately.
Terrified of the birth, of becoming a mother.
But after today, I feel so ready!
I want to hold my darling daughter.
I want to kiss her little head!
We've been together now for 38 weeks.

Oh, the OB visit today was so easy.
Even checking for dilation was easy. (Nothing yet.)
After yoga, I ate a million things!
I was a voracious solider, just home from the war.
I ate spicy pickles and pizza and pineapple.
I ate rice and red peppers with honey.
I guzzled down the orange juice, high pulp.

Oh yes, the other part of my day!
My poem won!
The Sandburg contest!
I'm going to be on WBEZ.
Go Enadia go!
You really are a poet, girl! Don't hesitate to own that.
You've worked hard for it.

Call OB and schedule birth. <3<3<3
Talk to WBEZ about how to remote in on Friday.
Lunch with Martha and Reese at 1.
So, clean the house before then!
Also, edit your website before Friday.

Lots of love,
a pretty pregnant woman, full of sunshine and amniotic fluid and a brand new human being
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happy and grateful [23 Mar 2014|11:13pm]
Maternity leave, I love you.

I'm revisiting my manuscript, editing and submitting poems.
Ben reads Auden on the couch.
Earlier, a walk along the ocean.
Pausing at an occasional bench
and reading poems out loud to one another.

This is happening.

Earlier, a bee sting.
Yesterday, the hospital, thinking my water broke.

Today, overall, exquisite.
I am in love with this existence.
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[22 Mar 2014|05:14pm]
It is a day. Neither good nor bad. Judgeless, faultless. It has blurred edges. It smells like chipotle spices. I'm weak with hunger. It is a day.

Yesterday, I was desperate to go into labor.

Right now, I feel indifferent.
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[12 Mar 2014|10:41pm]
i've got a man
got a man
got a man
got a man
i've got a baby
got a baby
got a baby
inside a me
i've got the sun
see it shine
hear it ring
shines so bright
i am mine
i am mine
i am this girl's
this is a life
is a life
is a life
i am living
i swim through
swimming through
swimming through
every day
and i am open
open open
break it open!
to receive love
taking in love
love from all around

you read me different kinds of poetry
and then you see what happens
you tell me stories tell me stories
of different places in the world
tell me stories tell me stories
about a goat and then connecticut
i don't care about getting lost or
getting lost or falling down

i got a man
got a man
got a man i got a baby
got a baby
got a baby in this belly a mine
and i am whole
i am whole
whole like love
or like the sunshine
and i am fine
and i thrive
and i thrive on all this love
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Gratitude [08 Mar 2014|05:03pm]
I've said before, gratitude is the most intense emotion I've ever felt.

Today again, it storms through me, physically shaking me, bringing me to tears.

"Honey, are you okay?"
"I am so... thankful," and the quakes that follow.

I am thankful for love. For so much love. For this surge of love, an outpouring of love, of openness, of generosity. Kindness. Powerful kindness. Giving, in all ways possible. Care. Profound care.

And... it's not just for me. All of this love, this giving, is for me, but it's just as much for her. She provoked these waves of love. Like Hakusai's waves, this love keeps coming, unstoppable, inevitable. She, a person who doesn't even fully exist in this world yet, is loved beyond measure.

And she loves back. I feel it, in me, in her. I can feel the strength of her love. For Ben, for example. (Oh, am I thankful for Ben.) When we lie in bed together, she reaches out, presses against the inside of my belly, as if reaching for her dad. She adores him. She wants to touch him. "Soon," I coo. "Just a few more weeks. Then Daddy can hold you, and cuddle you, and kiss you." I pause. "Mom gets to hold you all to myself for nine months, but soon you will be shared."

I am thankful for Ben, perhaps more than anyone else. What it means to be married... (And we are married, papers and ceremonies mere formalities. It's what's in the heart that matters in this matter.) What it means to be married... A person who loves me entirely, to an unfathomable extent, this love being (of course) replicated, and thus always increasing, growing stronger through our ups and downs. His unstoppable kindness throughout my pregnancy, simple gestures of caring: cooking meals, doing chores around the house, driving me to work when I'm exhausted. For the simple act of being near me. For calling me beautiful. For rubbing my feet, my back. The effortlessness of our love, completely natural, like a river flowing its course. And through his anxieties about fatherhood, his love for her. His love for our unborn daughter makes me love him even more. Their budding relationship, this new love between these two souls I love so much, makes more love well up in me.

For my friends. That's what prompted this, I suppose, today. Today, my fourth and final baby shower. Getting on the computer, originally, to look up tie-dye instructions (remove the bands before putting in the washer or not?). Today, a day in the sun, a poolside vegan BBQ baby shower, a perfect-sized gathering of friends, who prepared food and games-- Wait, I don't think I ever saw the winning ribbon. The party going long because everyone getting along so well. Eight-year-old Cady happy swimming in the pool, an adored 3-month-old Talula getting kisses and coos from all directions, the boys (Ben, Verle, and Hank) intermittently separating and rejoining our group. Danielle's wisdom, Francine's encouragement, Annette's warmth. The baby squirming in my belly. It was exhausting, and the most fun I've here since we moved in. Tie-dying onesies, opening gifts, eating a bounty of food (and Annette's home-baked vegan cupcakes, with naturally-dyed purple and yellow frosting). So spoiled you are, little one.

Thankful too for my day yesterday, for calling in sick and spending the day resting and cuddling on Ben. Getting out of my scary OB exam (for now, at least), and getting to move up my maternity leave. Only two more days at work! Thankful for the state of California's pregnancy leave policy.

When I woke up this morning, I had a dream. (Yes, a dream as I was waking.) I drempt that I didn't have my belly anymore. At first, I felt relieved. I don't have to go through with this. No pain of childbirth, no life-long responsibility for this new human being. Then I felt guilty for these being the first thoughts in my head. And after this, I felt... like I had lost something. Like my life had less meaning now. How does she give my life a new level of meaning? I was surprised at this, reminded myself: but being a poet, but the publishing career... It didn't compare. My life had lost meaning more meaningful than those things. And I woke up, and she was there, and it was a relief. This is how it's supposed to be. My pregnancy has been hard (but remember your intention at yoga on Thursday-- to enjoy your pregnancy), but it means something. It's hard, but it's natural. I am meant for this. It is good.

And I have confirmation from all around me that it's good, like the Earth is swelling up with elation for me. God, thank You, thank You, thank You for all this love. For forcing it over me like a tidal wave. Help me give this love back, help me spread peace and love and understanding throughout the universe. Help me grow in wisdom, in encouragement, in warmth. Thank You for this baby. Thank You for Ben. For our home, for healthy food, for water, all of it. My life shines.

Reader, whoever you are, thank you, too, for loving me. For the love you have shown me.
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Life is good. [25 Feb 2014|09:44pm]
It's gorgeous here.
Today was a perfect, radiant sunshine southern California day.
Warm but not hot, palm trees swaying, driving on my lunch break with the window down and the Doors on the radio, mmm it felt so good. Made me think, I could stay in Orange County. This isn't so bad. I could make this work.
I'm having a baby.
A baby!
My baby!
This is something I've wanted for such a long time, and now it's just over a month away.
Prenatal yoga class is great. Such amazing energy in that room, ten mamas-to-be building heat through our different poses, and today I was struck, I hit a hard pose and I set an intention for my practice, to connect with God, I'm doing this for God, I'm strengthening myself to be closer to God, I'm having this baby as a way of thanking God for my own life, of showing my gratitude. And that felt so good. It just came upon me all at once, this surge of spirituality. I carried that with me through class, and it embued me with new force, this openness, this willingness to surrender, this new level of both self-acceptance and the willingness to push myself past my comfort levels.
My friends are wonderful.
Work is hard, and it's been so busy lately, but I love my job.
I'm growing as an intellectual, creative, and spiritual person.
This life is glorious.
It feels so good. It doesn't even feel like 10 to 10. I feel like I've had caffeine, but I haven't. I apologize for my droll vocabulary. I know I need to get to bed soon, even if I'm not tired. I didn't get enough sleep last night. I think I'm just energized from my spiritual yoga experience (oh! and another thing- after yoga I picked up burgers and surprised Ben - who poor thing had cooked me a wonderful Asian dinner to surprise me- but I wasn't craving stirfry so we'll have it tomorrow- so we had burgers and fries and onion rings, and it was immensely satisfying, and we couldn't even finish so much food, and a sated pregnancy craving is a good pregnancy craving, and the last two days I've had morning sickness again, and so most of the day I can't eat, and then tonight just ravenous and all this heavy American food just so satisfying, uh! and about the feeling sick- I was worried about my baby, but then tonight she's been such a playful little bunny in there, making up little games and even trying to tickle her mom from the inside. It makes me so happy and relieved to feel her moving around in there, to feel my healthy happy little baby after I'd been concerned about her- I love her so much)
So I think I'm just energized from my spiritual yoga experience, and from the perfect weather, and remembering that oh yah at the end of this pregnancy (which by no means has been easy) I'm going to have a baby. I just feel a renewed appreciation for this existence. I've been so down lately, so tired and so out of it, maybe this is just a hormonal thing, tomorrow night I could be crying again, but tonight I feel like rejoicing.

All of the love,
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[23 Feb 2014|01:08pm]
I feel somehow disconnected from my life today.
Too much technology?
Too much suburbs?
Pregnancy exhaustion?
Not enough time interacting with people who excite me, who motivate or inspire me?
It's like nothing is new anymore. I've hit a lull.
Too tired to venture out into the world, I contemplate spending the remainder of my third trimester painting, perhaps setting up a little studio on my patio.
Then why am I doing this and not that?

Write poems.
Read poems.
Decorate your apartment with art.
Make love.
Cook a gourmet meal from scratch.
Bake bread.
Practice yoga.
Practice meditation.
Be in love with your life.
Need to be in love with your life.
Don't accept this distance from it.
Practice Russian.
Watch a provocative foreign film.
Find a new circle of like-minded friends.
Celebrate your biology! Your being!
Reconnect with God.
Say prayers.
Write hymns in praise of this planet.
Become more politically active.
Raise awareness of issues you care about.
You don't need to travel to feel alive.
You can have a meaningful existence from your apartment,
or from Orange County.

I feel sad for the people who say, "Oh, I wouldn't want to go on maternity leave early. I'd be so bored with all that free time." Are you really so dispassionate? Is your work the only thing that motivates you to get up in the morning? A job as a means to shelter and food- that is no way to live! Except for the financial logistics, I would love to take that full 4 weeks available to me off before she comes, sleep for a week of it and then use a little regained energy (these weekends are only a tease) to grow as an intellectual, creative, and spiritual person! Scream into the face of God: I EXIST, AND THANK YOU FOR IT.
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[16 Feb 2014|01:40am]
hey flirty

hey blurt blurt tee

a few wks ago i quit caffeine bc it was effing up my sleep cycle, then tonight a wonderful date with this good lookin guy, out in the gaslamp and i order a thai iced tea, what the hell right, but now, ha, it's 2 am and i'm awake.
a great day today, all around. hellish traffic, but then beau's bday party and my date with ben. yesterday valentines day he spoiled me. a dozen red roses, more theo chocolate than i can ever eat, breakfast in bed. and tonight's date felt so good to be back in the city.

so much to decide once we have the baby

how much our lives will change

i'm 33 weeks pregnant and enormous

every moment an effort

standing up, rolling over in bed

ben's in our bed now; im on the couch. he's out.

my body is tired but mind is awake.

do we keep making memories as we get older
or do we lose that ability? everything used to be a memory, once

catalogued away by geographic location perhaps

today a strange memory surfaced

will a different memory surface tomorrow

this blog is a catalog of my memories, in a way

ok i will drink milk i will sleep now (thank you cows)

(thank you brain)
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[16 Jan 2014|09:45pm]
My house is a mess, and I'm too tired to do a damn thing about it.
Ben is obsessed with Tron, and it's pitiful. He bores me to death.
But he does also cook, do the dishes... I'll get the laundry together soon, I swear.
I also have a few more TY's to send, I need to call my parents, I need to blah blah blah
I need to sleep
Sleep delicious
It's getting exhausting
Only a week into my 3rd trimester
and I feel those tireds creeping back in
Ben laments that I'm doing less, asking more of him
He whines and moans and when I remind me
It's because I'm carrying your child
He chides, I was only playing with you.
Is it normal to hate your husband in the 3rd trimester?
I think I read somewhere that that's a thing.
I need to sign up for a birth class, tour of the hospital, infant CPR
We need a bigger car
And a bigger apartment
and we're making less money all the time
At least I love my job
And I do like where we live
Overall, I am very happy
just tired
slumbersachfully tired
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