hello, feet.

Hello, down there. You look so small compared to the belly.

It’s been so long since we could we could properly interact. I am starting to miss you. Soon enough you will wear lace-up shoes again, I promise. But for now, you will have to do with only a fresh coat of pink polish applied by Carly at the salon and flip flops.

If I am planning to be staring at you for an extended period of time, you should, at very least, look nice.

dear little boy.

Dear little boy,

Your time has come. Time to move on and move out. Time to breathe, eat and sleep by your own means. Ready? Your due date is next Saturday. Think of this as an eviction notice with fair warning.

Love,

Your Mom.

just seen on the street.

While I was sitting on the sidewalk this afternoon in front of a coffee shop waiting for someone, I saw a little boy get out of the car with his Dad. He was holding a compass. As they walked toward the door, all I could hear was the little boy, following along with his head down, “Now we’re going West, now we’re going Northwest…” and then they disappeared into the shop. Mesmerized by life.

I can’t wait.

Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/26159607@N05/2670837542/

16 and pregnant

This show is like a car crash. I just can’t.turn.away.

Maybe it’s because I have been watching my own belly grow while I see theirs balloon over the course of the first half hour, but I am blown away by every episode. On multiple levels.

For starters, I can’t imagine going through this when I was 16. Now, I worry about knowing about the latest child-related recalls and picking the right pre-schools, I don’t think I could have handled it then. My brain didn’t have room for strollers and proper car seat installation. At all. It would just be so hard. SO much harder than it is now, which is no cake-walk.

And their partners! I am confident and comfortable in my relationship, and I know Dustin can’t quite understand why I need a back rub EVERY night with (less than, ahem) three weeks to go. But I can’t even imagine him at 16 being up for all this (and I knew him at 16, so that’s a very educated guess.)

And being a working mother, like I obsessed about in the last post? Shoot. Graduating from high school! Then what? The book that stemmed the last post doesn’t even account for the fact that I am becoming a mother AFTER completing a graduate degree and how much it will still affect me. What about these girls?

I can’t decide if I watch because it makes me feel a little more confident? Like, if they can do it, I can do it. Or if I watch just because my jaw sits on the floor for the entire hour.

See. It’s just like a car crash. No, and impending car crash.

Image from: www.mtv.com

working mama

Recently, I have spent some time thinking about what it means (to me) to be a mother. Everyone can quote the statistics: Moms make less money and have less chance at getting into and staying in fast-track professions (architecture included? But, of course). Dads benefit from the fact that they look more responsible and committed almost instantly. So that means that I now find myself at a crossroads with the age-old dilemma. How am I going to tackle this change? Well, head on, of course.

I’ve always known that I wanted to be a working mother. I know I need balance in my life. (Ask the dogs. The last week of us being home together has almost sent them both to “the farm.”– and I don’t mean Ina May‘s.) But how to do the best at both jobs and stay sane? Only time will tell, but I am glad I have a decent track record of being over-committed. Normally, that’s when I do my best.

And that’s just what I intend to do– my best. I have been lucky enough to find a job (after the research grant I was working on at the University ran out last week) where I get to do design work, move toward licensure, and work from home/virtually. Good thing I am a time-management drill sargeant.

Little boy, you may rule the roost, but I have found a way for both of us to get what we need. And that’s how I intend to be a Mom.

So here’s to a life of “doing my best.”

Image from: http://www.artsentralasia.com/img/full/borders/justiniani_working_mother.jpg

best horror story ever.

Last night I ran into the mother of some old friends and heard what would qualify as my absolute worst nightmare right now. She was pregnant with my friend (a few years back…) and was due May 17. She gave birth on July 5.

Nightmare.

I keep telling everyone that I hope he comes early. We are down to less than three weeks, so I am really OK with him coming at any time. People always look at me with sad eyes and I can tell they are thinking that there’s no way he will come early. I know this. I know that, if he’s anything like me, he will be right on time. But still. I would like to keep thinking positive thoughts. I was a week early and I was a first baby!!

There’s hope. Don’t take that away from me now!!

PS- the woman in the image is pregnant with 12 babies in Tunisia. It could always be worse…

Image from: http://current.com/shows/current-tonight/90712744_tunisian-woman-pregnant-with-12-babies.htm

together time.

The best vote of confidence I have ever had:

Leaving the hospital after our tour the other night, Dustin turned to me and said, “I can’t wait to see you do this. You’re going to kick some a$$”

Love him.

Image from:http://www.flickr.com/photos/dalaimickey/424702340/

dear body

Dear body,

I have asked you do so much already, I know. I have asked to run marathons, finish half-ironmans and throw yourself (repeatedly) onto the floor after a little white ball.

I have appreciated you, even loved you at times, but I know there have been other times when I was a little disappointed in you. You maybe didn’t look quite like I wanted you to, or perform quite the way I expected but, overall, we have had a pretty good relationship.

Even in the last eight months, I have asked you to lift weights, cycle, run, walk, and jump.  I know. It’s more than you wanted to do on most occasions, but you have handled it all so well.

You have done it all without so much as a broken bone, a surgery, or a failure.

This probably isn’t the last time I ask something of you (for your own good…), but listen to this very special request I have for you: please make this all go as planned. Please send me clear signals, start and progress at a normal pace, and deliver this little boy into the world. I can stand exhausting and I can stand pain, but let’s let it all go smoothly. Please don’t do anything crazy– no weird umbilical wrapping, no spikes in blood pressure, and no stalling. Trust me, neither one of us (or the three of us, for that matter) wants to end up in the operating room.

I have done my best these last few months to prepare us both mentally and physically for this challenge. I have practiced my Hypnobirthing, stayed active, and read as much as I could about this event. Please do as you have done for some many other challenges that have faced us both. It’s too late now to back out. You have one week until he’s “fully cooked” (how time has flown by…) so let’s buck up and get this done.

Sooner rather than later.Thanks.

Britni

Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jose-montenegro/1060151652/

secret admission.

Here is my secret that no one else will say:

I don’t know if I love him yet.

I am sure that I will. And I am sure that the minute they put him on my chest when he is born, I will be endlessly in love with the little man, but right now, I don’t know. Our relationship, to be honest, is kind of strange. He keeps me up at night. He kicks me in the ribs all day long. He makes me tired and still a little nauseous.

I keep reading on other blogs about mothers that are “in love.” Really? It took more for me to fall in love with Dustin than him giving me gas and punching me in the ribs. (He waited for the second date to do that…) I don’t fall in love quite like that. Well, I never have before.

The emotions I feel are different than any love I’ve known before. I’ll be the first to admit that I am curious and interested in this little man. We have an ultrasound tomorrow and I can’t wait to see how he’s developed (and if he has a big mop of hair like I did when I was born!!). Do I feel a new sense of responsibility? Yes. Intrigue? Yes. Excitement? Yes. But love? I am sure I will.

Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/alshuiab/2178449756/

latest gripe.

I know I am not the tallest of the tall; there are friends of mine that are taller, with longer, lankier legs, but I stand above the average joe. (or josephina). Why is it that maternity pants can’t come in longer lengths? Why is it that, as soon as you become pregnant, you must start dressing like a “mom?” I won’t do it.

Luckily, it has only been in the past few weeks that maternity clothes have even become somewhat necessary and I can still get away with leggings in most situations.

But really. I know Heidi Klum has tried, among others, to actually produce clothing that isn’t flowered or tent-like for pregnant women, but those things still make me look bigger (and wider) than I am. As a matter of fact, I can feel my face, feet and hands swell when I try them on– just in response to rayon and pink. Not nice. I have found more success with long tank tops, stretchy dresses and old cardigans than any maternity store. (plus cute shoes and jewelry).

I thought we were all celebrating my body? Why are people trying to wrap it in ugliness. I won’t give in.

Image from: http://www.flickr.com/photos/shana_dana/2574071495/