A Letter to My Little Boy

Today I saw your face, your skull, your heart beating. I saw all the inside bits that will be invisible when you are no longer inside me. You were magically transformed from the baby to my little boy before my eyes. From now on I will be able to call you by your name.

Today an image of who you might be twinkled in my head. A rough and tumble little boy. A quiet shy guy. Maybe a flash of curly brown hair like your father's with his beautiful brown eyes. A vision of kisses and hugs in the future; of band aids and cuts and rough housing with Grampa Russ. My little boy with the heavy brow like his father and the light trail of freckles like his mom. Quick to giggle and laugh with his dad. Sensitive and funny and smart as a whip.

I'm ready little boy to be your mom. I'm ready to kiss it better and provide you with all the love in my heart. My little man.

The Bellsie Destroyed Our Home!

Our house is never the tidiest place. Many of our condo neighbors, in particular, keep their homes so neat they could be mistaken for operating theaters. Over the last few weeks though, I have dreamt of a return to even our usual degree of complete unpreparedness for guests. This is entirely the fault of Bellsie.

First of all, Jill has never had a better excuse to buy new clothes (and believe me, I've heard them all). The house is inundated with bags yet to be unpacked, both generous passed-on gifts from friends who have had children already, and generous new gifts from our family.

It's right and proper that Jill should look just as glamorous and well dressed as ever as she goes through the pregnancy. For differing reasons though, both the cats and I could do with a few less of these towers of clothes around. My reasons are obvious. The cats, of course, love the busy, overwhelmed state of the place, but I'm pretty sure they could do without the torture of seeing something new to claw, and then finding they are shouted at for trying to fulfill their prerogative.

Then there is my side of the equation, and I have to admit that this has generated about eighty percent of the mess. I had the luxury of a study when I was in the middle of my degree, and then I had the even greater luxury of a home studio when that passion took over. When we found out about Bellsie it was clear that our two-bedroom condo needed a major restructuring. Jill was very accepting of the fact that without somewhere for me to do music in the house, she would have about three weeks to my total mental collapse. We worked out in the end that the whole space could be compressed into one long fitted wardrobe at one end of the room, that could then close up when not in use, leaving the room for the baby, and leaving my prospects of impending rock and roll world domination as alive as ever.

Making it work though, was like setting a rabid dog loose in a paper mill. I sorted through and recycled about 25 reams of paperwork, trimmed down my book collection by about a third, moved the rest of the books out of the room all together, cleared my own ragged clothes collection (that had occupied the wardrobe) and then turned to the studio. I work in a studio, so I see these masses of cabling all the time, but I've never seen a mass of them dismantled and then rebuilt in a cupboard.

I have to say though, that I loved it. Tearing the room apart made it really fell like I was doing something productive for the kid, and at the same moment took the weight of years of accumulated rubbish (literal and emotional) off my shoulders. This is new start for Jill and I, and living in a house in this kind of transition is a good sign, to me, that I can do something I always doubted I was capable of: move on.

Hello Bello

Overnight my beer belly has turned into a baby belly. I wasn't quite ready to except there was an actual baby in the round mound on my tummy... I just thought... "That's my belly". BUT after a few days of "Nick, did my tummy always look like that?" and "Did I always have a beer gut?" I finally excepted that YES I am starting to look pregnant.

For a pregnant women this is a huge milestone. You start out your pregnancy feeling like crap, nauseous, and exhausted and as far as anyone knows you might have just spent the last few nights drinking heavily and partying your ass off. Little do they know that all you've been doing is praying for a little down time at work to put your head down on the desk or hoping your husband has read your mind and ordered take out for dinner (so you can sleep as soon as you get home). Other than these tell tale signs you don't really "look" or "feel" pregnant.

There were two moments for Nick and I that made us stand up and say "OH FUCK we are really having a baby". The first was the heartbeat. It happened at my second doctor's appointment (I was 10 weeks). During our first appointment the midwife wasn't able to find it, which was a bit aggravating. She said not to worry, that the baby was way down in my uterus. At my next appointment she just lightly touch the microphone like device to my stomach and there is was, beating double the time of my own heartbeat. AMAZING.

The next week Nick and I had our first ultrasound and if hearing the heartbeat is a smack with the reality stick than the ultrasound is like getting shot in the heart with it. I'm not sure what I expected; I think I just had a little blob pictured in my head, not realizing all we'd be able to see.

When you are only 11 weeks along you need to have a full bladder to do the ultrasound. There I am lying on a exam table shirt pulled up to my bra, pants and underwear pulled way down past my pelvic bone, lots of "hospital" paper covering my clothes (what is that stuff called?), warm (thank god it was warm) goo all over my belly and dying to go pee. As soon as she started moving the probe over my stomach and the image came up on the screen I forgot all about my bladder and we saw our baby.

The little life inside of my was wiggling and moving around so much it was like watching baby tv in my belly. We saw it sucking it's thumb, kicking it tiny little legs, rolling around and just being incredibly cute. I was just in awe. I didn't realize how much it would actually look like a baby. It measured about 2 inches in length (this was at 11 weeks, now it's about doubled in size to 4.5 inches) and it rocked my world.

Choice.

And now a break from you regularly scheduled program. OK OK I know, I'm supposed to blog about the ultrasound. BUT how can I when something much more pressing in on my mind. THE ELECTION. I would suggest you stop reading now if you are a Sarah Palin supporter or if you don't believe in birth control, because I'm not and I do. I don't really want to offend anyone, these are just my opinions. SO PLEASE NO HATE MAIL. : )

Nick and I have a ritual of falling asleep to NPR every night. Last night was no exception and as I was dozing off there was a discussion about Bristol Palin's pregnancy. I was on the brink of being asleep and suddenly I was wide awake saying "I guess Gov. Palin's abstinence only sex-ed programs worked."

Today I've been thinking a lot about this young girl's pregnancy. I've been thinking how out-of-touch her mother truly must be, both with her own children and with the nation. It has made me reflect about how grateful I am that that I had a mother that taught me the importance of choice.

To have options is one of the most important gifts a daughter can receive from her mother. I was given the tools to learn about birth control and the responsibilities that come with being sexually active. HAVING A CHOICE. HAVING AN EDUCATION. HAVING THOSE TOOLS. This is what has allowed me to be in control of my own destiny and my own body.

My pregnancy has been of my own design. Nick and I have had 8 years to grow together, learn together, and be more and more in love with each other. We have had years to travel, beach holidays, trips to Europe, time to work on our careers, and build a life as a couple. Together we WORKED on our marriage - through the hard times and through the easy ones. We were able to have long discussions about whether or not we wanted to have children and decide for ourselves that bringing a child into this world would be right for us.

Being 17. Being Pregnant. Having a Shot Gun Wedding. What a sad way to start a life together. To bring a life into this world together. Not all of you may feel this way. Teenage pregnancy happens all the time. Lovely, smart, beautiful, kind people have had teenage mothers. BUT talk about giving yourself the short end of the stick. Think about trying to make a marriage work when you are both under 20 and have a newborn.

My heart goes out to this young girl who wasn't given the tools to make decisions for herself. Who's education about sex included nothing about condoms, the pill, or (almost more importantly) preventing STDs. She now has to bare the brunt of her mother's narrow belief system. HER MOTHER, a women who was able to build her own career and have children when she decided to, has left a sad sad legacy.