September 2009

When I was pregnant with my Sylvia, I watched the corn fields near our home grow just as she was growing in my belly. As they grew a little taller, my belly got a little bigger.

I was having a girl.

A true tom boy at heart myself with two boys at home, I felt scared to have a girl. I was worried I wouldn’t know how to fix her hair. And bread, I didn’t even know how to make home made bread! The endless list of traditional feminine skills I never had interest in learning began to suffocate me. I worried I would not be ideal for her. That surely this gender was misplaced into the wrong family, didn’t the stork know I can’t even twist together a respectable French braid!? I was concerned this little girl of mine would find me a big fat disappointment in the department of any and all things female.

The corn was getting taller and that meant she was coming soon. And I still had not learned how to bake bread! I remember being at the mall one day and selecting a first purchase just for her. A little red pair of shoes. It sounds silly for a little treasure like that to change my heart, but it did. I began to realize I had a lot to offer her, after all. That no matter who she would become or interests she would have, I would do what all mothers do best. Support her in her life. From astrology to fashion, arithmetic to nail polish I will guide her in her interests just as I do with my boys and their Bakugans.

Most importantly I will continue to work at being a good person, always refining my character as I lead these children by constant example.

My favorite moments during my third pregnancy were each and every time I thought of her. What she might be like and what her interests might be one day. What a privilege it is to be her mommy. And who knows, maybe one day she’ll be teach me how to bake bread.

From Liz Fuller of Backward’s Attraction.

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The very first time I met Gabrielle was at a Disney Mom Bloggers event last year. I was immediately struck by how stylish and beautiful she was. I mean, this woman can rock some clothes! It’s amazing. I was also struck by how nice and generous she was. I absolutely loved meeting her and her presence stuck with me ever since. Gorgeous. Stylish. Mother of five. And unbelievably friendly. I love her!

Fast forward to August of this year and we attended the same event in San Francisco. This time we got to bring our kids and Gabrielle brought along Ralph, the sweetest kid on the planet. I had the chance to see Gabrielle as a mom this time and she is just as I had imagined: very cool, loving, affectionate, caring. Quite simply, Gabrielle is an amazing woman and mother.

A few weeks later when I heard Gabrielle was pregnant I was beyond thrilled! Pregnancy is such a lovely state to be in. I loved every moment of both my pregnancies and look back on those months with dreamy eyes. Save the early morning sickness, I felt the best I ever had when I was carrying my daughters who continue to sprout before my eyes.

I can only imagine how delighted the Blairs are to be expecting their sixth baby. Just being around Gabrielle and Ralph for a few days I know for sure how love dwells in their home and how generous they are raising their children to be. During the event Ralph allowed my oldest daughter to use his iPod Touch. He didn’t put demands on her or even stand over her shoulder to make sure she didn’t break it. My daughter was amazed. So many children she comes around are selfish with their possessions. That showed me, again, how amazing Gabrielle is as a parent. It showed.

I wish Gabrielle the happiest, healthiest, most amazing pregnancy on the planet. She deserves it because of who she is and the lives she touches. Plus, I can’t wait to see how she rocks her maternity clothes!

From Jennifer James of The Mom Salon.

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Bob and I had been trying to get pregnant for almost a year and it had finally worked. Somehow I convinced him to come with me to the OB’s office because, you know, he absolutely had to be there every step of the way. It turns out my OB/Gyn performs an early ultrasound at your first visit, just to confirm a “baseline” healthy pregnancy. So there we are, staring at the underwater outer-space forms on the tiny screen, with the OB decoding all the circles and clouds for us. She finds the baby’s tiny fluttery heartbeat and Bob and I laugh, thrilled, relieved and amazed. Then she’s quiet for a minute or two and finally says, “Okay, now I’m going to show you guys something that’s going to really freak you out.”

Bob and I look at each other. Really? Is she allowed to say things like that?

“See that circle? That’s your baby. And it looks great. And that cloudy area there is blah blah blahdy blah blah.”

“Oh get on with it please,” I want to say. “What are you trying to tell us?”

And then she points to something on the screen and says, “Do you see that circle there?”

I see it.

“That’s your other baby.”

At which point Bob and I explode into maniacal laughter that lasts for two weeks. No, seriously, every time we looked at each other we started to laugh. For weeks. Two babies.

Nine hilarious inflated months later, we become the proud, delighted, overwhelmed, underslept, blissful, and terrified parents of identical twin girls.

And seven years after that, looking back on that day in the doctor’s office, I believe I can see a lesson: Learn to embrace the lack of control that having kids brings into your life.

Gabby, I know you don’t need to learn this lesson — you are the guru of acceptance. But it can never hurt to be reminded of just how very little control we have over even the most major events in our lives. And when that loss of control gives way to things like this:

…which can then give way to things like this:

…it’s hard to miss it too terribly much.

Super humongo congratulations to you, Gab, and Ben Blair, and your whole fantastic gang. But the biggest congratulations of all go to Baby Six, who has no idea what a dream of a family he/she has landed him/herself in. Bravo to you all.

From Laurie of Leap Design and Kirtsy.

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Advice for women who are too pregnant to function anymore:

Inevitably your husband will come home to find you unable to move under the weight of this gigantic fetus you are carrying and will want to know why the house is a mess and dinner isn’t made and then you’ll want to stab him because this is all his fault but you don’t have the energy to find a clean knife.

And you’ll want to explain how completely exhausting being pregnant is but men never understand so whenever Victor would say “How can you be tired? You hardly did anything today!” I’d respond, “I made someone’s ear canals today. Inside my stomach. Without even using my hands. What did you do today? Paperwork? God, how exhausting. I MADE SOMEONE’S NERVOUS SYSTEM.”

Then my husband would walk away, suitably impressed. Or scared. Either way he left me alone. And this is how you have a successful marriage.

from Jenny the Bloggess.

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There were all manner of magical happenings when I was pregnant with my girlies: the first kick, that sort of glowly, endorphin-drenched daze that perpetuated my second trimester, and of course the birth —oh my, nothing tops that moment when you finally meet your child after what feels like eons of waiting and hoping and wondering… But my most poignant memories were the moments spent with my oldest daughter Audrey while I was pregnant with her little sister, Millie.

I was acutely aware during the entire pregnancy that this was the end of an era with Audrey, she’d no longer be an “only”; we’d no longer be a unit of three. Everything was about to become bigger, rowdier, more complex (and I truly believed) infinitely more fun. But I wanted to be sure Audrey and I had plenty of time to savor each other before our family became four. We went on a few family trips, planned lots of special outings and adventures and, every. single. night. before bed, she and I would sit on the floor and do a little pregnancy yoga together. Mostly it was just holding hands and stretching, but it was sweet and quiet and we connected to each other and to the new life about to join us.

From Joslyn Taylor of Simple Lovely.

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During my first pregnancy (and unfortunately subsequent pregnancies as well) I experienced morning sickness the entire 9 months. As a result, I relied heavily on my husband to take care of meal preparation. At one point in the pregnancy my husband was required to leave town for an entire week to complete some work training at company headquarters.

This felt like an eternity at the time and he and I became very concerned about what I would eat while he was away. So, he did what any outstanding husband would do…he went grocery shopping and then spent 6 hours in our tiny San Francisco kitchen making meals for the entire week. He placed a few in the freezer for me to reheat and a few in the fridge to eat first.

I remember going to bed early that evening and occasionally waking up to the oven timer beeping, or sizzling food in the cast iron pan. I smiled to myself and then went back to bed feeling very loved. I count this as one of my favorite memories during our {almost} 10-year marriage.

From Stephanie of Stephmodo.

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Alex, photographed September 16, 2009.

I can’t tell you how thrilled I am about Gabby’s wonderful news. I’ve only known Gabby for a couple of years now, but in my completely unprofessional opinion, this woman is made to be a mom, isn’t she? When I look at her, I always think of the mother in “Little Women” — her children are surely blessed to have her to look up to, and this little one on his (her?) way is no exception.

When Gabby asked me to share a story with you here today, I immediately thought of the day my daughter Alex was born. Alex’s birth story is one of my favourite memories thus far in being her mom. It’s a bit of an unusual story, since she came to us via an open adoption: in other words, we have a relationship with her birthmother. While her birthmother was pregnant, I was able to go with her to prenatal doctor’s visits, and, bless her, she invited my husband and I to be present at Alex’s birth. It was a really cool experience — I’d never seen a child born before — but it was actually what happened immediately after Alex was born that made the event absolutely unforgettable. And even though I suspect that most expectant mothers at the point of childbirth, are a little …well, preoccupied, let’s say, what with the whole in-the-middle-of-giving-birth-thing, I tell Alex’s birth story to every expectant mother, in the hope that just maybe she might be able to catch a glimpse of what I saw, during the birth of her own child.

So anyway, to the story: the baby was born, and she was upside down in the doctor’s arms, and he was cleaning all the birth gunk from her face and neck. At this point, I was sort of numb, and my first thought was that it was not possible that this little, tiny doll-like being was going to come home with us in a couple of days.

My second thought was that this baby was the most beautiful shade of cerulean blue I had ever seen in my life.

Alex’s birthmother asked, “Doctor, why isn’t she crying?”

The doctor replied, “I don’t want her to cry just yet. The umbilical cord was wrapped around her throat. Just one second.”

The doctors and nurses kept doing their thing. I wasn’t nervous, because they seemed pretty calm. A few more seconds passed, and then, just as I was wondering if I should be nervous, the doctor said:

“Okay, she’s going to cry … now.“

And Alex inhaled. She just took this great, big, huge, breath …

… and she turned pink. First her arms, then her hands, and then her legs and her little face and chest. And as crazy as this may sound, I am absolutely convinced that we’d just witnessed Alex’s soul, which had been waiting in the delivery room with us, flying into her body, and giving her life. Even more, I absolutely, unshakably believed, at that very moment, that this little girl was meant to be ours, and that had we not been waiting there for her — had her birthmom decided not to place her, or has there been another adoptive family in the room — a different soul would’ve entered her body, and she would’ve been a totally different person.

And then she started to bellow.

Anyway, Alex has proved me right every day since. She’s just .. well, she’s just like us, I suppose. She gets our senses of humour. We’re such a tight-knit family. We’re a team. We fit.

So, I guess the point of all of this is that when you become a parent, whether by giving birth yourself or via adoption, you have to believe that God, or Allah, or Fate, or the Universe or Whatever You May Believe In has a plan. Trust that the child you bring home is meant to be yours and yours alone. It has always been this way. It will always be this way.

Congrats, Blairs. May your family … your team … continue to grow as tight-knit as ever.

From Karen Walrond of Chookooloonks.

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Lindsey, with her third child, Babetta, born last summer.

Pregnancy is one of those things in life that no amount of reading or advice from family and friends can ever prepare you for adequately. The same goes for that first moment you hold your new baby fresh and warm from the womb.

Like many women, I have my share of funny stories about pregnancy woes. I have heartwarming moments that will forever be with me in my memory.

I spent hours talking to my belly with each of my three pregnancies. There were sappy professions of love and undying devotion to being their mommy. There were mundane descriptions of traffic along the Bronx River Parkway on my way up to monthly appointments. There was music played and hands pressing firmly into my fleshy belly in hopes of feeling the gentle (or sometimes hard) kick or poke from a developing limb.

Each pregnancy taught me a different lesson about life. My very first pregnancy ended in miscarriage at 10 weeks. That experience taught me not to take the fragile miracle of life for granted. It taught me to stop blaming myself. It taught me yearn for something more.

Over the past 5 years and three full-term pregnancies, I learned new things about myself. I’m stronger and braver that I ever thought possible. I learned patience and endurance.

I learned funny things. For instance, I will never be able to look at a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli again. Or drink another glass of strawberry flavored Tang. And that if I am going to enjoy a splash Frank’s Red Hot sauce, I better follow it with a chaser of Pepcid AC and Mylanta. I also became a pro at peeing in a cup and massaging my sore sciatic nerves each night.

More than anything else though, I’ve learned that love knows no boundaries. Love is not divided between husband and subsequent babies — it multiplies, it matures and deepens, it blossoms and flourishes. I learned to appreciate and love womanhood and the divine roll we play as mothers and nurturers.

And it is all worth it….even on days like this.

Lilly, Fritz, and Babetta posing for our Christmas card picture…that we never sent.

From Lindsey Johnson of Café Johnsonia.

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