Birthyversary thoughts & ponderings

This is long and rambly and was composed on my BlackBerry when I should have been sleeping and had taken quite a bit of cough syrup so... Here's some salt grains for ya.

525,600 minutes ago I was tossing and turning in bed, pondering what it would take to get the postdates baby I was carrying past my highly annoyed psoas muscle and out into the world. Apparently what it took was tipping into the astrological sign of Gemini and little bear reaching a full 9lbs (my heaviest of my 3 sons at birth by more than half a pound). Less than 6 hours later (less than 3 of which even my own self or husband recognized as 'go time' labor-labor - I was in denial that I was in transition until the baby crowned, and he was fully out half a contraction later) I was holding this beautiful, challenging, wonderful, continuing-to-do-things-in-his-own-time enormous little sucker to my breast, in awe that yes, I really DID manage to pull that hat trick again without any real assistance required, gimpiness not holding my body back in the least from this primal function. And I also found that we've gone 3 for 3 - all boys.

Each pregnancy people have asked what gender I am hoping for. I say with complete sincerity what I hope for is a healthy child - physically, mentally, spiritually, every way knowing that this child is perfect and loved however they are. I honestly mean that. And I joke sometimes that, being raised Unitarian Universalist in a very liberal town, what nature didn't give me some day a surgeon might and I truly honestly am fine with that idea if that is the path one (or more) of my children is destined for. I love them each uniquely, totally, and unconditionally. I would not trade any one of them for anything in the universe (though goodness and people who read what I write regularly know that I am totally open to loaning the older two out for extended periods some days, but Bear stays near until he's weaned and that's not gonna be any time soon from the looks of things).

All of that is deeply and utterly true. But I won't lie and say that I do not long for daughters also.

When Liam was born, before we were even transferred to the recovery room, I informed Garvin that I wanted 5 children. That is still part of my body knowledge. I was still in that trippy birthy semi-psychic feeling state and it rang true to the core of my being then and does to this day. I hadn't really had a strong set feeling on how many children I wanted before then, but the number has always been more than 3 - over the years from childhood until that moment, it ranged from as high as 8 to as low as 4. I don't know that we will wind up with 5 children (heck I don't know that we'll wind up with 4, we're not trying for a while yet and Garvin's not really talked into #4, but he wasn't really talked into any of the other 3 until I was pregnant so I take that with a huge grain of salt). I do know that, if we don't have 5, a part of me will always feel like there is someone missing, or several someones.

I am hoping to have another child around my 36th birthday or shortly thereafter (Decemberish 2012), from my calculations I can finish my master's degree by then at the latest (likely can finish it by August 2012 I think), then switch into PhD mode the following August with baby already likely well established on supplemental solids while being able to be away from me for a couple hours while I attend or teach a class (which was the big problem returning to school this past August. Bear and my breasts were NOT able to be separated without leakage and angst on both our parts for the duration of my classes' required face time before he was about 5 months old. He was 3 months old the day the semester began. Problematic.). And possibly baby 5 might happen after the PhD (or when it's close to bring done - gotta say, I wouldn't be totally against defending my dissertation in a similar manner to the way the creator of Hathor the Cow Goddess did, if I am remembering the story origin properly).

So does the gender of the next one(s) matter to me? I cannot lie. I pray with every ounce of my being that I have at least one biological daughter.

It is nothing against males, it is nothing against my sons. It is not a desire to have a little living doll to dress up (I suspect if I DO manage to have a daughter, her eldest 2 brothers and paternal grandparents as well as several other individuals will completely fill that niche, hope she doesn't mind too much). It's not a desire to play dolls/dressup/paint nails/etc with a little girl (I do that with my sons plenty already).

What it is, is lineage and biology and longing to experience from the other side what I experienced while my own mother was present as I birthed my 2nd child (the only of the 3 she made it to). As he was emerging from my body I had this mental image of still being connected to my mother's womb via my own umbilical cord and placenta, with her still connected to her mother the same way, and back and back and back into history, each birthing in different ways and different settings and all connected and sharing in that experience of continuing life. I was (and still am) profoundly aware at that moment that the cell that had grown to be the baby I was birthing had already been within me when I was in my own mother's womb. When we, as women, are pregnant with daughters, we are three potential generations at once. When we carry our wonderful sons, it is just him and mom - the cells that could potentially become our grandchildren won't form for well over a decade (hopefully more than TWO decades, thankyouverymuch I don't feel any need to be a cronologically young grandmother, I will still be plenty mentally youthful for grandkids that don't start arriving until I'm at least getting close to 50 or even 60. No rush, kids). It is wonderful to be just mom and son. But it somehow doesn't feel as much as though my sons are MY lineage the way daughters would be. This is partialy patriarchal leftover bs, yes, but in some way I do feel that my sons belong more to my husband's family tree than my own. Part of that may have nothing to do with their gender (my husband has his family tree documented for 29 generations, including our sons. I can only name 3 of my great-grandparents, 4 if I look up the name of the maternal line great grandfather whose name is totally slipping my mind, and I do not know with any surety even what nationality the maternal line pair were. Other side were German immigrants and I know little else about them other than that and their names. My family didn't do so good a job of making sure my generation got our stories and history, my father immigrated as an infant and his parents never seemed to want to talk about their time before coming here when I asked them, seeming very uncomfortable whenever they did answer some of my questions). I cannot really find my definition of self in my family history, so maybe that is why I am so obsessed with finding it in my family legacy. I have joked that I might be a changeling, for the little I seem to resemble my biological family in aptitudes, interests, passions, etc (I do resemble my father's side pretty strongly physically, as does my middle son, so I'm fairly confident there was no human mix-up at the hospital). I am also very comfortable with long term goals (heh. I informed Garvin sometime in our first year of marriage or so - 2000 or earlier - that we would be having our first child in spring 2004 and I picked birth years for the next 3 while I was pregnant with that one). That is what birthing a daughter is about to me - that potential to be a part of the long chain of wombs, going backwards and forwards in an inestimatable spiral, mother to daughter to mother. The thought of being the definite end of my specific line wounds me.

If I never have a daughter, I will mourn that lost legacy chain even as I love every subatomic particle of my sons. I hope that my sons will understand that. I never loved them any less for their gender, just differently, just as I love them differently for their individual quirks and moods and favorite colors (really, Del, you didn't HAVE to test that devotion by picking pink as your favorite, did you? ;) ). I will love any grandchildren I am blessed with, via any methods, just as fiercely. Liam's temperment and personality is so similar to my own that we share something deeper than I may with a daughter. I suspect that in adulthood he will be able to predict me (and me him) better than anyone else on the planet. Del startles me with his physical resemblance to my own childhood pictures and poses and delights me daily with that. He is a wonderful natural mimic and such a sensitive soul (ok sometimes, often, WAY over sensitive for my comfortable grip on sanity) that I know he will be an amazing human being as he matures. Col is still a tight little bud of a personflower but the spark of cheeky independence in his eyes combined with a loving sweet possessiveness he and I share, for lack of a better way of phrasing it - he is somehow the most 'mine' of the three, the most mamababy still. Liam was everyone's baby, he loved me best but not by much. Del had a stronger orientation toward Liam and Daddy as a baby, he only really wanted to be with me to nurse, otherwise if Daddy was around he wanted Daddy to hold him or to be on the floor playing with his brother. Col definitely lays claim to ME as his primary person, and that is our special thing at this point, and it fills me with joy even though it can be annoyingly inconvenient at times. I adore my children and I will adore any grandchildren I am someday blessed with through these sons, whether by birth or adoption or whatever. I am passionately in love with my family and what my family will become over course of my life. They are my greatest treasures and the absolute best part of me is that I am their mother.

But yes. I do hope for a daughter. My elder two sons both ask about having a baby sister at random times. They adore their baby brother (their most frequent disagreement in the evenings is over who gets to spent extra time with the baby) so hopefully if they read this some day they will have already understood what my sleep deprived medicated rambling here is trying to say, but just in case does cause them pain I ask that they forgive their very human mother. If they do have a sister, I promise I won't love her MORE simply because she bears a uterus, just differently as I love all my children's unique traits and the past & future adventures we will share. And I will be no less supportive of the women who bear me any grandchildren, through my sons or daughters (hopefully those women won't think I am too overbearing to be around at those precious times, but if my presence is not an asset I vow to step back and let them do as they must, regardless of if they are my own child or not).

Just please, universe. Don't make me be the one to break the chain. If my daughter(s) don't themselves become mothers I can accept that if it is their choice (or mourn with them if it is not by choice). All this may not be as big a deal to them. Who knows. It is to me though, enough that it is keeping me from sleep past 2 in the morning on my baby's first birthday. In honor of the blessing of three times birthing so wonderfully, I felt the need to share this part of my inner self. It is my prayer that I will someday get to celebrate my chain continuing in like celebration. That is all.

Facebook says this is offensive

I think it is a demonstration of utilitarian artistry.

The chain mail was made by a friend of mine at my request, and apparently my 6 week old having a meal during a wedding is offensive. (baby Col's ubercool newborn chain mail vest was made by the same couple, as far as I know they're not taking orders being busy with their OWN wedding planning)

Methinks someone is just jealous that they're not cool enough to have a chain mail nursing bra & newborn layette, or the guts to wear AND use one. Wanker.






I'm also pretty sure I know who the WOMAN who reported the image is. A breeder who spends more time complaining than being a role model worthy of the title "mother", who told me to go fuck myself for standing up for a friend of mine when she went off on her.

Guess what?

Don't fuck with the lactivist in the chain mail nursing bra.

Or her friends.



Or Doctor Who fangirls.

Welcome to your last year of binary dates

Yes, I'm totally embracing my nerdhood in this post. Not exactly "New Year's Resolution" worthy as I've been embracing my nerdhood in various ways for a while (years, if not decades - depending on your perspective and what parts of me you've come to know). One "New Year's Resolution" I'm making is to try to post here more often (this is being posted on my blog, which cross-posts to my Facebook profile, for those of you confused since I am very active on Facebook).

Last Veteran's Day (November 11, for you ingrates who don't bother to spare a thought about those brave folks who defend your liberties on one of the few days set aside for them in our American calendar) it occurred to me that Veteran's Day 2011 will be a very cool date to write out (11/11/11)... it then occurred to me that this past Vet's Day (11/11/10) was the last binary day of 2010 (when all days in the short form of the date are either 1s or 0s). Then the thoughts just totally did a pile-on and I realized that 2011 is likely the last year I'll be able to write dates in a binary format a few times for the rest of my life as I don't really expect to see the year 2100 (possible, but living to be 123 seems rather unlikely. I would turn 124 at the end of 2100).

So all this pondering made me feel like I should do something to more than just say "huh, that's somewhat cool and interesting" every time I notice that the date is binary this year. I've decided that I will take a moment to send wishes of pure contentment to those who see things in a more binary way than I typically do (you could say I'm a bit more hexadecimal than binary I guess... see, the nerdiness just keeps on coming aren't you glad you continued reading???). Not just people I disagree with or don't particularly like (yes, I'm giving YOU a hairy eyeball, Speaker Boehner), but also friends of mine with mental health conditions that can seem rather binary at times (bipolar comes to mind immediately, and there are some aspects of OCD that can be kinda binary too). So if that happens to fit you, if there's something binary about a label applied to you (even if you don't feel at all binary yourself!), I hope you'll feel a little psychic hug from me whenever you write the date and it's all 1s and 0s.... and also if you look at a digital clock on one of those days and notice that IT is only displaying 1s and/or 0s ("or" being appropriate in this case since some folks have digital military clocks that actually display 00:00 once every 24 hours) - maybe consider noticing that the clock is displaying that way on a binary day could feel like a friendly little psychic kiss on the forehead AND hug from me since it's an extra special little quirk of a moment.

So why am I wishing contentment instead of happiness? There is reason for this distinction. I think our society is actually a bit messed up in its seeing the "pursuit of happiness" as a be-all-end-all thing... Happiness is nebulous, undefinable, and fleeting. As a species, anything that seems for a a moment to make us "happy" we seem all too quick to habituate to and be taking for granted in the blink of an eye. Happiness has become a commodity to be sold, almost as much as in the episode of Doctor Who during David Tennant's tenure when he took Martha Jones to New(to the Nth) New York and street vendors were trying to sell him "Happy Happy". Happiness has become linked to that which is disposable in our society - we are a culture of Happy Meals and the associated Made in China plastic crap. I wouldn't consider it a blessing to wish happiness like that on someone, particularly someone who already has an abundance of everything that SHOULD, theoretically, bring happiness - wealth above 90% of other individuals in the world, alleged freedom and equality under the law, and at least one person who gives a crap about their continued existence (me).

For those who have so much, I wish contentment. I wish them, for moments on a regularly occurring basis, to see all that they've got going for them and be content with it instead of constantly trying to acquire more and better and living in a constant state of low-level fear of losing any of what they have. I wish for them to realize how even a small portion of what they have could sustain those less fortunate - here in the U.S. and abroad - for a significant amount of time. I wish for them to take a moment to calculate what percentage of the necessary monthly expenses their pleasure discretionary expense of the moment might cover for a family less fortunate (for reference, the average monthly rent around my home is about $600 for a 2 bedroom unit with bathroom, kitchen, living, and dining rooms. Heating bills in the winter can run between $50 and $200 per month to keep such a home at 68 degrees while occupied, depending on how often someone is home and how well insulated the place is and how old its windows are, so someone who finds themselves confined to the house due to poor health in a poorly insulated place with old windows is really financially screwed unless they can qualify and obtain financial assistance... guess what? That's kinda us, only we don't qualify because my husband makes "too much" money while I'm home with the kids - "too much" in this case being a few hundred dollars a month above our recurring expenses [mortgage, payment for the family van & vehicle insurance, utilities, student loans, food, etc - not luxuries]).

Even with all this, I am content. Even with my physical disabilities that make that van a necessity not a luxury (without it, I would barely be able to leave the house, I can't physically get in and out of the 1991 Honda Civic my husband uses as a commuter car). Yes, there are other things and adventures I'd to have, pleasurable activities I'd like to do that I am prevented from doing because of lack of resources (financial, health, stamina, etc), but my ability to experience the pristine moments real happiness that flit through my life on a regular basis as I hobble from one splashy puddle to another of contentment is not in any way inhibited. Even when I do it in a mobility scooter on days (too frequent recently) when my legs aren't being cooperative.

That recognition, of how good we all really have it, is what I wish for everyone else.

May you be so blessed... and pass it on. Happy New Year.