Will My Baby Put Out an Electrical Cord?

This hurricane has truly put things in perspective. Some things I see make me incredibly proud to be adding a child to this world – people putting out messages to come for warmth and lights; electrical cords with signs saying “use our power to recharge your phones.” These acts give me faith. Then I see some other things that make me hang my head – people fighting at gas stations over gasoline or their place in line; others attacking electric companies, police, and anyone else they can think of to blame for something that should be blameless. I want to raise the child who puts out the electrical cord and opens his/her doors to anyone in need. How do I ensure I do that?

Last night I had a dream that I was a terrible mother. The baby was a newborn and we kept having to walk places (with Barack Obama at some point, mind you). However, I kept forgetting to pack and bring a diaper bag. I had no food, no bottles, no diapers with me. I would cry and tell my mom I had to go back home because I forgot. I was so ashamed. This seemed to happen on repeat. This dream is the first sign of anxiety about becoming a mother. I have been so focused on the pregnancy and so scared of the delivery that becoming a “mom” hasn’t, for one day-lit second, stressed me. What if I can’t handle it? What if I blow the most important job I will ever have? What if I’m not as equipped and prepared as I have been thinking I am? I don’t want to be perfect. I don’t want my child to be perfect. But I certainly want to raise a child who would put out the electrical cord.

Thank goodness, there are still…

89 days to go!!!

Hurricane Sandy!

Baby’s first hurricane is officially in progress – I am staring out my front window (which faces the beach) as I type this. Thankfully, I am elevated over bluffs and the boardwalk otherwise it would be scarier than it sounds. The winds are crazy but I still have power (pleasepleaseplease stay on, power!!) and I am happy to be trapped inside with just Baby and me! I wish there was something baby-related I could do, but I haven’t had a baby shower yet so there are no clothes to wash and fold, nothing to put together and nothing to organize. Boo. I know when the time comes to do all of that, I probably won’t want to, but today I would love to. Oh irony.

Instead, I am working. As much and as quickly as possible in case I lose power. I work for a mid-size law firm but work from home full time as the office is in NYC, a good two-hour commute for me. I have been with them for over a year now and it’s good work. I get the perk of staying home, which gives me flexibility, but I still work about 50 hours a week (closer to 60 pre-pregnancy, closer to 35 in the first trimester!). I will likely take a few solid weeks off after I have the baby but then try to work my way back up to as many hours as possible, as quickly as possible. That’s the plan anyway but you know what they say about plans…

So I told you about the conversation with my sister’s friend who cried over my baby gender issues. It apparently bothered me enough that it is all I think about when I go to bed at night and all I dream about when I finally fall asleep. I woke up wondering if maybe I should ask the doctor the gender at my next appointment. I still wouldn’t want to tell anyone because I want that climax, that surprise, the day of.  But what if I do need some adjustment time? Honestly, my biggest fear is that he says, “It’s a boy” and then I don’t even have the hope left. Not even the chance. If it were a girl, I would be happy to know early of course. But I’m not sure if knowing earlier that it’s a boy would help me or not. Sigh. Someone tell me what to do.

No texts or calls from F today. He must still be pissed with my inadequate responses from yesterday. This partially upsets me (so don’t think I am cold-hearted and unemotional) but it also exhausts me. I feel like there’s always something and I am at the point in my life where I just want things to be easy around me. That’s all.

Wish Baby and I luck with Hurricane Sandy – pray our power stays on and I don’t eat enough for another ten-pound weight gain at my next appointment.

93 days to go!!!

Sunday Family Dinner

Sunday. Family Dinner Day. A new tradition I began when I got laid off from my last teaching job. I was unemployed all summer (not a big deal to a teacher) and promised that if I didn’t have a teaching job lined up by August, I would learn to cook. This doesn’t sound that impressive, but I couldn’t even boil water at that point. Literally. Cereal was challenging. And…no job = master chef. I began cooking Italian dinners every Sunday for our family. Not because we’re Italian (we’re not) but because “sauce” was one of the first things my mom taught me to make and it went with everything! I have since expanded and we occasionally drift from the Italian Sunday dinner, but almost every single Sunday since then, I shop and cook, my mother hosts, and about 15-25 people sit down for a meal at around 4 p.m. Love it. I look forward to it every week. (I used to really enjoy the wine part of it. Now, I create some sort of sherbet punch or sparkly something-or-other to make myself feel better. How many more days left?!)

Today, Family Dinner Day has to be combined with Hurricane Preparedness Day. We are expecting a rather disturbing storm on Long Island beginning tonight, I believe. (Oh yes, I am from Long Island. New York. Don't be jealous). My poor father is running around tying everything down at his house and at mine. (Lucky him – your pregnant, single daughter moves in next door to you). The electric company left a voicemail yesterday telling me to be prepared for 5 – 7 days of outages. I hope they are kidding. Surely they need to restore pregnant women’s DVRs first, right?! I hate when the power goes out. It depresses me. But my parents have a generator hooked up to their electric circuit and so it will likely be like Grand Central over there. Fine by me and Juliette. (Or, of course, my unnamed yet loved son).

Quick update on the F front: we haven’t spoken in a few days. My panties are all in a knot, I suppose, but I am not sure yet if I have any ground to stand on or if it’s just hormones, so I’m letting things be for a bit. I’ll update you during the week (I can type in a power outage, thankfully!) He texted me this morning asking if I was “set” for the storm and when I said “I suppose so” he seemed agitated. He wanted reassurance that I was “in good hands” so that he didn’t “have to worry about me and the baby.” (But apparently he didn't want to actually come here and see for himself. Or help with anything.) This is definitely a conversation that he will refer back to in our next disagreement. Sigh. I’m keeping that in mind as I text my responses. You cannot win an argument with this attorney.

Off to buy 7 pizza doughs at the pizzeria. Already bought the ingredients for a variety of pizzas today – football games and hurricanes call for a less formal dinner, apparently. Fine by me! 

94 days to go!!!