“Is everything OK?” I asked Randy in a panic. It’s one of the clearest memories I have of Juno being born.Read More
This boy made us parents on Election Day 2014. I’ve always viewed his birth and its relationship to Election Day as a harbinger of good things — the start of our next trip around the sun together seems inextricably linked to each election season’s spirit of renewal, resetting, refreshing. I hope that take always rings true.
In kindergarten this week, Moses and his friends also had an election. The candidates were cupcakes and donuts. Donuts won handily, thanks in part, no doubt, to Moses’ tireless campaigning for the obviously better choice.
Happy birthday to our big kid and good trouble-maker. We love you like crazy.
There’s no easy path to IVF, because nothing about coming to that decision feels good. Before couples choose IVF, they have had their hearts broken, maybe irretrievably. They’ve been on the receiving end of crushing news, perhaps more than once, perhaps many times. And they’ve resigned themselves to the fact that their family makeup had been decided for them, but for this one last Hail Mary. Read More
For the third time in about as many months, we’ve schlepped our kids across the country and asked them to sleep in strange rooms, in strange beds. Moses would dispute that this is a big ask on account of the fact that he’s thrilled to be sleeping on a foldout couch in an airport hotel, watching planes take off all day from the top floor of a building with glass elevators, with rooms dispersed around what can only be described as a track, which he has lapped no fewer than one million times. His body has been vibrating with excitement since 47 days before this trip. I know because we counted.Read More
The anesthesiologist spoke with a slow, thick drawl I felt more than I heard. He was tall and sturdy, wide with muscles that flexed when he talked. He was a long way from the Tennessee hills where both our roots were sown, but he seemed right at home next to my hospital bed, laughing thunderously at his own jokes while a nurse threaded IV fluids through a tube to the catheter in my forearm.Read More
I recall exactly zero details about how we came to know I was pregnant. I was still in a fog from having just become intimately acquainted with medical terms no person with access to the Internet should ever be in possession of, and while miraculously turning up pregnant should have cured my depression overnight, it didn’t, not exactly anyway. I was happy, or maybe relieved is more accurate, and I managed to forgive that bullshit fertility doctor who called me old when I am fresh and shiny as the morning dew, but I wasn’t over the moon. Edges were soft; a hazy sheen muted the good times.Read More
Ten years ago today, this hippie skied wildly through an inch and a half of snow down his slightly sloped front yard on a wintry March day in Atlanta and landed his run — for better or for worse — smack in the middle of my life.Read More
We’ve been visiting our families last week and this week, giving our 2-year-old some dedicated, quality time with his grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. First we saw Randy’s family in South Florida, and now we are with my family in South Georgia. To get from there to here yesterday, we took a six-hour road trip with a toddler. Read More
I’ve been plugging away at the birthday list and am pleased to report I am on target for accomplishing just shy of an eighth of the list before I turn 38. The crux of my “writing to remember or else I’ll forget” practice is the writing and remembering or else part, and so here we are. Welcome to “Or Else I’ll Forget” Fridays, a not-at-all regular series wherein I try to remember what the hell I’m doing with my life.Read More
“I can’t wait to read about this experience after it comes out of the spin cycle.”
That’s the last thing I heard Randy say as he disappeared into the lab, wrestling both a toddler and the giant bag of tricks I brought with us to distract Moses from the sword being aimed menacingly in his direction. I cowered in the corner of an adjacent file room, near Moses but out of his sight, plotting our escape. Read More
Yesterday started out like any other day, as bad days sometimes do. I woke up after a full night’s sleep already tired. I nursed a toddler. I changed a dirty diaper. I went to work. I drank half a pot of coffee. Then my mom called, and I answered.Read More
Since I became a mom, I have fallen prey to the one tragic thing I heard happens to some moms but never believed would happen to me, and that is the almost compulsive urge to put someone else’s needs first, before my own, all day err day. This is antithetical to my whole existence and it’s frankly a pretty cruel characteristic of parenting. Read More
Although my son is a mere 9 months old, I am writing about what we as new parents learn in the first year because then I get to pat myself on the back for posting this ahead of schedule, which I would have done anyway because I’m a mom and I can do whatever I want. I reserve the right to amend any and all lessons learned this time next year when we’re on the backside of toddlerhood, but for now, on the backside of infancy, this is what we know. Read More
Monday, November 3, 2014, 9 a.m.
Labor Hour 9
The passage of time during childbirth is completely confounding, especially to someone who lives with her head in the clouds and who may also be prone to exaggeration. Read More
Monday, November 3, 2014, 3 a.m.
Labor Hour 3
Fortunately for Randy and the lifelong health of our young marriage, he eventually realized “I need you” was code for “this is happening with or without you, so pick a side.” Read More
This is my baby story. There are many like it, but this one is mine. Read More
“I’M A MOM.”
That’s my defense for anything amiss in my new life. It’s a seamless and natural way of excusing my inadequate short-term memory and hygiene. Read More
I’m in a near constant state of brain fog now, drastically compromising my ability to remember the fact that I have a blog, and even though I promised to post a status update every day, I failed to take into account how many naps I need. What I have had no trouble remembering, however, is that I’m still pregnant. Read More
A week or so ago when I signed off my last post with “see y’all on the other side!” I was saying it like so because I sort of believed this baby would be joining us….like….imminently. I didn’t have any reason to believe that; it was just wishful thinking, a type of thought that could be described in some quarters and medical communities as “delusional.” Read More
Apologies in advance to my mother, who upon reading the following fact will undoubtedly shudder in horror at the thought of me having sex (gross!) on a fateful day 37 weeks and four days ago, but as of this writing, I am 37 weeks and four days pregnant. Read More
I’m a lifelong baseball fan. I GET baseball. I am really, really terrible at math, unless it’s baseball math, and then I am still pretty terrible at math but I GET IT slightly more and hate it slightly less. When I think about raising our kids in a STEM-focused household I always say to myself, “and Imma start with baseball.” Read More
Depending on who you are or how well you know me or what time of day you read these posts, your feedback vis-à-vis your perception of my overall pregnancy experience has ranged from me suffering utter misery to me enjoying ecstatic bliss. You are all 100 percent exactly accurate. Read More
After recovering from the initial shock of discovering we’ve signed ourselves up for a lifetime of being overworked, underslept, cash-strapped zombies (LOL JK I will never recover from that), I began to seek out resources for how to manage everything we will be taking on as new parents. Obsessively and probably unnecessarily. Read More
[WARNING: THIS POST INCLUDES GRAPHIC DETAILS ABOUT BODILY FUNCTIONS. PROCEED WITH CAUTION.] Read More
I used to be a writer. Then I wasn’t. Or maybe I always was, because maybe being a writer, like being an addict, doesn’t cease to be part of who I am just because I am not actually putting words on paper or licking the bottom of a snifter (I have some experience with both). At least that’s what I like to tell anyone who asks what my goddamn problem is and why I quit writing. Read More