pregnant with an alien - a dinner conversation

I went with my husband to his office Christmas party the other night, held in a private area of a chef-owned restaurant. This was a typically small affair, and a rare gathering of a virtual company with their significant others. There was plenty of great food, great wine, and great conversation. I actually enjoyed myself quite a bit, though nothing prepared me for our dinner conversation.

We sat at the end of a long table, with me next to the boss' wife and across from his daughter and her husband. I didn't know how long this couple had been married (it couldn't have been more than a couple years), but her questions revealed a lot more than her youth.

As is natural, she asked about our son. Interestingly, she (politely) asked how long we waited to get pregnant. I told her a brief version of our story: we waited a long time, and when we finally started we had problems. Did I get IVF or some other assistance? No, by the grace of God we had our son naturally. Do you mind if I ask how old you are? Sure, I'm 45. (eyes widened) I... never would have guessed that -- you look so much younger. (smiling) Thank you! Did being pregnant feel like having an alien growing inside your body?

(pause to giggle on the inside, then smile gently)

My answer: I've heard it described that way, but that wasn't my experience at all. When you are pregnant, you begin bonding with the baby right away. You are feeding this baby with your body, and when the baby is born you continue to feed him with your body, to the best of your ability. During pregnancy, the bond between the mother and child is physical, physiological, and psychological. And when you feel the baby start to move it becomes more real and even more powerful. So by the time the child is born, you've already bonded together. It's an amazing experience.

Not your everyday dinner party conversation, but I was so glad to share my experience with someone who was eager to hear it.

will you have any more kids?

I hate getting asked this. It makes me uncomfortable. And yet, whenever I'm in the company of another mother we compare how many kids each of us has and one of us is bound to ask this. Heck, I've asked it myself when it seemed appropriate (then again, how would I gauge that?).

With a bit of hesitation, I said no. We're one and done.

She seemed slightly disappointed for my sake and gently asked why. I told her - I'm 44 and am already tired and overwhelmed, blah blah... her eyes got as big as saucers and she told me she never would have guessed. I smiled and said thank you (and seriously meant it).

Every time I say no, I feel a little sad.

We both feel like we should have two kids, but I couldn't tell you where this is really coming from. Maybe it's the fact that we both have siblings (never mind the fact that we all live separate lives two states away, making real relationships all but impossible). Maybe it's because that's more common than having one (and gee, we do want to be normal don't we?).

Last night we talked about this briefly, discussing how to build relationships with lots of friends and wanting to create the best possible childhood for the boy. Off the cuff, I realized the irony and said "I think the worst thing we can do as parents is somehow make our son feel like he isn't enough."

Ouch. Even as the words came out, it stabbed my own heart.

Occasionally I play the math game: If I conceived by Christmas, oh I'd be 45 when she's born (why do I think it'd be a girl?) and ohmygoodness that sounds so old. Then again, others have done it and lived to tell the tale. Then again, I feel incapable of being a full-time SAHM as it is to one child. I'd lose my mind, not to mention what's left of my figure, forever and I'd have two teenagers when I'm in the throes of menopause. Then again...

Ugh. We'd better be committed to whatever we decide, even if we decide that deciding is too hard.

"What do you want for Mother's Day?"

I stared at my husband with a dumbstruck expression, not knowing whether I should be pre-selecting a present or just being deeply appreciative for embracing the day because of my infant son. I have no idea, honestly, what I told him. It felt greedy to ask for any "thing."

Here is another thought about Mother's Day: I can celebrate the fact that I have several children waiting for me in Heaven, as I believe God is taking care of them and they are all wonderfully happy in eternity. How they got there doesn’t matter as much as the fact that they are.

And another thought: I am truly grateful for my own mother, for our strong relationship and now for the chance to share motherhood with her as I begin this new chapter of my life. I am also grateful for all of the mothers that have shared their wisdom with me: my stepmom, my mother-in-law, my grandmothers, my aunt, and my women friends. The act of mothering is not limited by blood or family status, and we women should be mindful of this very important fact as we impact the lives of those around us. As a wise person once told me, "whatever you do, be a mother to someone."

I don't know what your situation is, gentle reader. You may be on any number of trails in the mothering journey or you may have decided that your journey has ended for any number of reasons. My prayer for you is that, if you do not have children, you find a way to mother someone and build those relationships as you are given the opportunity. Who cares if there isn't a Hallmark card with your name on it? The greatest gift we can give each other in this life is love – indeed we are commanded to do so.

John 13:34-35
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

And who doesn't need a mother's love?

"Did you do IVF?"

I was getting a prenatal massage at a new place, provided by a woman who's worked with (evidently) a lot of pregnant women. I was pretty shocked at this question. Does getting a massage create some kind of intimate ask-me-anything-you-want atmosphere? If so, please clue me in.

I was mildly flabbergasted (since I was pretty relaxed, laying nearly naked on a table beneath a blanket getting a massage). Perhaps she had surmised this by my age, revealed by the crow's feet or the emerging grays from my two-month-old hair color. I immediately decided I was not embarrassed by my answer.

I simply replied "... um, no. After two miscarriages and a diagnosis of fertility, God has chosen to bless us with a miracle pregnancy." I told the truth. Usually people don't pry much more when you bring God into the conversation, but I'm past the point of wondering whether they think I'm nuts for believing.

She went right on from there, talking about other situations she's seen, how she had experienced seven (!) failed adoptions, and figured God just didn't have that in her plans.

I decided that she treated the massage experience like a lot of people treat the hair salon experience, and forgave her forthrightness. Still, it was weird man. Good massage though!

"You're a Little Old to be Having..."

Oh no she di-n't!

As un-hip as I am, I imagine my head swerving side to side with a wild arm gesture while I'm saying this.

I felt like I needed to call my grandmother and tell her the news. So I did, and for a few seconds she was silent, then started saying “Well, you’re a little old to be having…” I cut her off and basically said that I would really, really love to hear some positive words from her right now, that I’ve been through absolute h*ll the last couple of years because of this stuff between two miscarriages and a diagnosis of infertility, that believe me if I could have done things different I would have…

Okay, quick reality check. I am well aware of just how "old" I am (just turned 42). It's risky. Doable, but risky. And I can only assume that if someone isn't rude enough to say it to my face, sooner or later their tongues will be wagging behind my back. What am I gonna do? Keep walking. Keep sharing my story. Keep forgiving.

I know this is just the way she is, and she does suffer from dementia, so I keep that in mind. But I wasn’t about to let something negative be the first words out of her mouth (again). I think it came out in a weird combination of panic, laughter, and yelling. The conversation ended well enough and she didn't seem to retain any of the tension from that moment. Just shocked silence, I suppose. Which is a logical reaction. Overall she seemed quite amazed and happy.

I have a weird relationship with my grandmother, though I don't think she knows how weird it is from my end. From the moment I was conceived she considered me the daughter she never had (she had three sons) and spoiled me mercilessly all my life. Until one day, my dad asked me whether I thought it odd how much she complemented me. And then I became aware. Aware of the devastating effects of favoritism across an entire generation in my family. Aware of just how humble I needed to be, and how I needed to separate myself from this favoritism, even if I couldn't get her to understand why (which I couldn't). It has left a legacy of... distrust, resentment, and a total lack of closeness that just makes me so sad. I have no relationship with my cousins which I can only presume is partly because of this.

I love her and forgive her, and just accept her the way she is since I know I cannot change her. But I have every opportunity to be a catalyst for change, to break the cycle of favoritism and resentment with God's hand in my life.

"Do You Want to be Pregnant?"

Hm.....

Hm.....

Had to think about this one for a while. DH asked me this after another bout of bitching and raving about exhaustion, indigestion, poorly fitting clothes, blah blah blah... Well mostly it's the indigestion. It's hard to be enthusiastic about anything if your list of edible foods can be counted on less than 10 fingers.

But anyway, back to my pondering. Here's why I don't want to be pregnant: the risk. The fear. The pain. The uncertainty. The checking of the underwear every time I go to the restroom (yes, still). The knowledge that anything can go wrong at any time, and really - we never run out of things to worry about. No real clearing of the woods, just milestones and minimizing risk and holding on to hope.

Here's why I do want it: To have the experience of giving birth just once. To see the joy on my husband's face when he holds his daughter or son for the first time. To realize the knowledge that it really is possible. To see my own flesh and blood running around the living room.

Part of me wants to give the big "ha! you were WRONG!" finger to the Specialist, but that's just dumb. Docs don't deal in absolutes, just percentages. So just what constitues a miracle in the eyes of a medical professional anyway? I can't prove anything to anyone. I can only tell my story and hope that it gives someone hope beyond their circumstances, to know that the end of something isn't the end of everything.

Last night I had a dream. DH and I were in a bedroom somewhere and I looked at a window. I noticed there was a recycling trash bin just below the window inside the room, which I thought looked kind of tacky. I looked again, and there was a mist of blood hovering over the trash bin. I looked again, and saw that the mist had been replaced by a slow-moving cloud hovering over the bin - I looked closely, noticing the nuances of the cloud as wisps curled around the edges. Then the cloud floated up to the ceiling. For some reason, I blew gently on the cloud. It began to dissipate, and then a small figure emerged from the cloud - it was a newborn baby, which was human but looked pale and otherworldly like the cloud. The baby began to float down, and I said "See? It's a baby!" to DH. He was leery, but the baby drifted down into the crook of my right arm. I held the baby, smiling. DH touched the baby's forehead, then its lips - and the baby caught his finger in its mouth in a gentle, sort of affectionate way. And then I woke up.

The next dream was one of those fast-action dreams with translucent tigers floating down a walkway in an Asian spa that changed plots every few minutes. Weird. Oh well.

"Don't Worry [Stress Out, Get Your Heart Rate or Blood Pressure Up, or Otherwise Display Less than Blissful Behavior], You'll Hurt the Baby!"

I was relating my paranoid state of mind to a good friend a few weeks, trying to share what was on my heart about how tough this really is for me, and maybe hoping for some words of wisdom when she laid that one on me. My response was carefully constructed cynical laughter laced with an unexpressed middle finger.

Oh, okay! I'll just quit worrying, cuz otherwise I'll kill the baby! LOL No pressure there! Thanks, that's great advice.

WTF

May as well tell me not to think about white elephants no matter what I do or a bomb will explode every ten seconds. Oh, okay! No problem.

All sarcasm aside, I understand that a stressful emotional environment is not the best for a growing fetus. Which is why I do try to visualize positive things, pray every day and ask for peace, and recently started reading the book Battlefield of the Mind.

Yeah, I get it. Our thought lives do actually influence our external lives. But rather than creating a vacuum by trying not to think of spotting or having a bad ultrasound or any of the other nasties that can spell doom to a growing baby, I need to know what to replace the thoughts with and, really, how to do it.

And how to deal with the occasional nightmares. Like last night, in which I dreamed that I drowned a tiny kitten in a bathtub and shoved it down the drain. I cried this morning telling DH about it. I'm fine now, recognizing a dream for a dream. But still.

Any advice from those who've fought and won this battle?

"Do you support Planned Parenthood?"

Two women asked us this, poll or petition or whatever in hand, as we approached a coffee house last weekend. My response? "Uh... I don't even know how to answer that question.."

Not because I can't say whether I lean toward pro-choice or pro-life, or whether I'd prefer to see an organization like theirs actively linked with adoption agencies (hello???!!!), but simply because. It's too deep and ironic a question for me to answer. At least, not to a couple of people with a specific objective behind the question.

"Have You Ever Thought About Adopting?"

Why no, that never crossed my mind... thank you for the suggestion!

That's how I'd like to respond sometimes, haha! But I know the question comes from a place of wanting to engage, to be helpful, to show concern. I gotta let the silliness of it all roll off my back. Otherwise it's easy to feel like darts are being thrown at me all the time, and that's just not true.

Instead, I kind of grinned and said "We have several options in front of us." Then of course my (seriously) dear, sweet neighbor smacked her forehead and said "oh of course you do - just ignore me!" I have to be careful not to purposely make people feel stupid for the silly things they say. Just give them grace.