Everything Must Change

OMG! He's two months old! Time is flying by ever so quickly!
Motherhood is such a challenge. Everyday, every minute is about change - changing diapers, changing clothes, chaning spaces, an ever changing baby, even my own changing body. Funny thing is, I don't deal well with change....

We went to a lecture today. A scholar, with whom I'm merely barely acquainted, was visiting campus so we went to hear her speak of way making, ancestors who are immortal (which is, I will forever maintain, the wrong word for what she's attempting to say but, well, she's stuck in a particular framework that uses that word so...) and "creative transformation". In short, it's all about change. Quite a theme for the day, I think.

Transitioning from thinking, to planning, to trying, to being - the process of Single Motherhood by Choice - is replete with change. I can honestly say I'm not the same person I was when I was a Thinker or a Planner or even a Tryer. But it's on even a smaller level than that. My expectations have changed, my goals have changed, my fears have changed, my hopes have changed. Everything has changed.

That simple truth has caused life to be so difficult right now. I came to New Jersey to get a degree. That's it. A singular goal with 3 parts: Course work, exams, dissertation. I planned 4 years, maximum. I'm in my fourth year now, and everything has changed.
When I got here, I was so focused on my career. I had my career planned, my life planned. I knew how to be successful in the academy. I was focused and motivated. Then it all changed.

At some point I decided that the academy wasn't enough. Now I wonder if the decision I made was more like, "I'm not doing this at all" than "I need a real life". I wonder if I made a choice between family and this degree. I'm clear, to the core of my heart, that I made the right decision, chose the correct option. But I thought I was choosing to have it all. When did that change? Why does it have to change?


I'm trying to get my scholastic ass in gear. I need to propose exams. I need to write one simple paragraph for three different exams. That takes a focus that I just cannot seem to find right now. I blame it on the time issue, but that's not so much the truth. I just find it difficult to focus on violence and neo-orthodoxy and Schleiermacher when I have the most adorable infant I've ever seen. And I'm stressed because of it. Something has to change.
For the first time... well, in the last few years, I asked myself if or not I actually want to finish this degree. I don't really think I have any passion for it anymore. It's more of a way to make sure my child is fed. And that about it. I don't know if this is something you can do if you're not passionate about it. Did I choose a family in lieu of a career? Is that old axiom true? Can you really not have it all?
OMFG!
For years and years, women have heard that we have to choose between family and a career. I refuse to make that choice. At least I thought I did. But, by choosing single motherhood, did I, in fact, make a de facto choice?

Pitocin, Gray Eyes and Orange Poop

He's here! Finally!
Okay, I'm about a week behind. It's hard remembering to blog when you have a brand new baby!
My son was born on Friday, Aug. 22, 2008.

Here's my labor tale:
I went into labor at 2:30a. I thought I just had to pee. But once I stood up and made it to the bathroom... the contractions were 5 minutes apart. I never did get the luxury of contractions that were 20 minutes apart or irregular. Nope. I started at 5 minutes. I timed em, wrote down the times, etc. After a while, I had to pee again. I was bleeding. So, I called all my people. Once my doctor called me back, and gave me the go ahead, I called for an ambulance. They transfered me to the paramedics who told me to put some socks on and lay on my left side. Before I could do that, the police showed up. Two cops, four amblance people and two paramedics later, I - and all my stuff - was loaded into the ambulance. I got to the hospital about 4am. I wasn't dilated at all. My contractions were 6 minutes apart. They gave me an hour to progress or they'd send me home. After an hour, I was 1cm! Woo hoo! They admitted me. An hour later, I was STILL only 1cm with contractions 5-6min apart. My doc decided to augment my labor with petocin. I decided to get drugs; nubain to be exact. My Mom and Sis were MIA - I found out later their flight was delayed - and my breathing coach was trapped in traffic. It was just me and my videographer. We walked, chatted, laughed. Then the pain got worse.
Eventually, my entourage showed up. By then, the pain was almost unbearable. I had dialted to all of 2cm. I tried to walk. That wasn't happening. I wanted real drugs. I got an epidural. There is no more awkward feeling in the world than to have half of your body numbed beyond movement. By 5pm, I was only 3cm dilated and his heart rate was going down with every contraction. I had a c-section. Awkward legs turned into painful, painful, burning legs. I was miserable! And that was WITH the anesthesia! The section itself felt like someone pulling at my stomach. Then this marvelous little person was screaming. They showed him to me from across the room. I cried and cried. Then I got a headache and my heart rate soared. That's all I remember until recovery.


My little precious has the deepest, most beautiful little gray eyes. Looking into them brings so much peace and joy. He means the world to me. He was a bit jaundiced at first, but his color is slowly turning. Everyday is a different journey. My emotions, his growth... everything is brand new... CONSTANTLY. Radical Orthodoxites would cringe. Constant newness is the heart of modernity. But that's never here nor there.

Time for a shower!!

Big Girls Don't Cry. We weep.

36 weeks, 2 days.

That's how long they claim I've been pregnant.

38 weeks, 5 days.

That's how long I've been praying for and crying over my baby.

66 weeks.

That's how long I've been planning for this child.

312 weeks... 6 long years.

That's how long I've been begging God for motherhood.

They say you measure a year in love. But how do you measure love?

Today, we had our final ultrasound. My darling still-growing infant and I woke up sooner than either of us wanted, and almost made it on time to the appointment. We got there just as he decided it was time to brace against my ribs and push downward. That hurts. He's long, but we knew that. He's not as heavy as we expected. That's news. His kidneys. Well. Big girls do weep. My little boy's kidneys are still overly full, overly dialated, not working properly at all. And he, my love, is crammed into my abdomen on his way out. Nothing's ideal.

What I didn't expect, in becoming a single mom, is how people would respond to me ... scratch that, how male mechanics would respond to me. My truck needs a battery. One attempted to talk me into an alternator... $200 more than a battery. The next into an alternator AND a battery... add $300 to that last one. I get it. I'm a chick. I'm not supposed to know anything about cars. And I don't. But I do know that I need a battery. That's all I'm willing to pay for. So I drove around town for 3 hours trying to find someone who would be willing to do that which I requested: GIVE ME A BATTERY! Still didn't find it. Still need a battery.

There are still so many things I need to do to prepare for the birth of my child. Papers to write. Art to paint. Clothes to wash. Classes to attend. Furniture to move. Anxiety to release.

I want my son.

I want my dad.

The latter is gone; I can only long for his presence and mourn in his absence.

The former... Patience, apparently, is a requirement.

So... here I am. I'm constantly reminding me that I'm about to be someone's mother. I'm constantly reminding me that I'm a big girl. And moms and big girls have one thing in common: We don't cry. So what happens when we're overwhelmed? What happens when we have those types of days that Mama said would exist? What do we do then? What do we do when our backbones just aren't strong enough to carry the weight? What do we do when our minds just are fast enough to come up with the answers? What do we do when our resource for our faith, the source of our hope, is ignoring us? If we don't weep, what on earth do we do? What are our options?

I guess we weep.

Gettin Grown

So, I finally got over my lil crush on the chronically unavailable. Actually, I just gave him up. Not out of altruism, not out of wisdom... I'm not that grown. Instead, I found someone else to dream of.

That's when it occurred to me.

Maybe, just maybe, the constant development of crushes is a symptom of something larger. I thought at first it was me re-thinking the whole single mother thing. Natch. Then I realized that it is more of a maternal thing. I'm not sure, really, that this new crush is really my type but he's so great with children! So the question arises: What changes with motherhood? Does attraction change its rules? Do you grow past the physical? Does motherhood cause certain introspection through which you are able to heal, to grow?

It's not just that I desire, all of a sudden, a man who wouldn't have -- and didn't -- turn my head 6mos. ago (and who, honestly, was a bit suspect to me...). It's more complicated than that. What if I've become one of those women? You know the ones I mean: the women who spend their time searching for a father for their children. Yeah, I don't wanna be that chick! I'm not saying that, as a mom, I should or will be interested in men who are dare-devils or reckless or whatever. But should the question of being single really focus around fatherhood? I mean, wouldn't it make more sense for me to be considering something... hell, anything... else at this point?

But, since we're here, let's consider the question: Do I need a baby daddy? I think that's one of the major questions for all SMCs. Some choose to answer "Yes, of course," others declare, "It would be optimal." And I? Well, I think I've rather valorized being single. It's the curse of the philosopher. The super-religious, of course, despise the choice and declare that only a two-parent household is suitable for children. Right. The psuedo-religious somehow find their way to that same argument. But I wonder: Do I need a man? I, who by my own admission, am single by choice wonder if that choice is the right choice. Or if it's a reactionary choice. Am I so hung up on where I've been that I've chosen where I'll go? That is, am I allowing my past to determine my future rather than choosing my own path?

In a few weeks I'll deliver a child, a boy, a son. How do I, this little boy's only parent, go about making a world that is ideal, optimal for his growth? How do I consider this question? From a philosophical view, basing it in theology? What do I do for my son? Must any of it require a man? Do I need a man?

All of this, of course, follows a great weekend. The nursery is put together; I do need to change some things around the house but I'm ready for my baby! He's dropped, heels over head, kicking my ribs, gall bladder and stomach. I'm sooo ready. I do hope he makes his appearance soon. I don't really want to wait until my due date. I'd rather have him sooner than later. But I think that's ... well, pushing it so to speak. I am thrilled, though, whether I have a man or not, to have a child, to be a mom!!

This Week's Top Ten!

Top Ten: reasons I wish I had a partner

10. To go get ice cream and popsicles at 1am

9. To wash my car (seriously...it's been a few years!)

8. To massage my feet

7. To have effective conversations with the guys at Home Depot

6. To bring in extra money

5. To run all my errands

4. To cook me breakfast

3. To unload my truck when I buy bedroom sets

2. To load and unload the dishwasher

1. We would have a bigger apartment!

Okay, so maybe I just need a maid...and a handyman... and a day at the spa.

But, honestly, there are a couple of things I didn't consider when choosing single motherhood. The top of the list, really, is that pregnant women can't move furniture. I don't do dependent well and, here, I am, unable to actually do the simple things in my own house. Frustrating is so not the word for it! I feel so utterly useless... sitting around waiting for someone to come do something for me. What happened to standing on your own two feet? What happened to do for yourself? Okay, so I get it: I can't actually carry lil boy and ... anything else at the same time. And he is the priority. But it's God-awfully dehumanizing!

Manna means "What Is It?"

Anxiety comes natural to me. I am, after all, my mother's child... just as she was her mother's child. I have never in my life been so anxious as I am now. The "what if"s the "how will I"s, the "what am I going to do"s ...the questions pague me. And I... I must admit I am completely at a loss. The next step seems to have me befuddled much of the time. Counting, planning, organizing... knowing the next step: not so much my forte. But I'm growing and learning. Theoretically. Somehow, my child will have everything he needs. Seems his name is appropo.

He's dropped. That's good news...and scary news. He's preparing to be born and, as much as I'm ready to not be pregnant, I'm not ready for his arrival. Not in the least bit. Even as I'm sitting here, there is work I should be doing, words I should be writing (other than these) and, clearly, it's not exactly happening. Pulling it together, yeah, that's the goal. Knowing HOW to do that... yeah, that's the problem. It seems that growing up and becoming an adult -- in faith and in general -- aren't as easy as it seems. Getting my act together...geesh!

But time is winding up. And I really need to get ready! I'm just rather at a loss for what exactly that means.

TO THE WRITING ITSELF!

Away We Go!

I finally decided to write a blog. In part because I think my journey should be chronicled and in part because I realize my friends and family should be able to keep up with what's going on with me and my child. Well, that and it's a great way to procrastinate on all the writing I really need to get to. So, multiple reasons!

THAT said... away we go.

So, today, I'm 33weeks and 4 days pregnant. I'm hot, sticky and HUGE. I know it's a little selfish, but I'm sick to death of being pregnant. I do need to clean my son's room, do a little organizing, and attend a labor class before I will actually be ready for Salahaldin to show up... so I'm not begging him to come out immediately. And, I'd like him to grow a little. 34weeks is a bit too soon for his emergence.

BUT it is ridiculously hot. And I'm the chick that prefers it hot outside! But pregnant in the summer makes it just miserable. I keep thinking that timing a summer birth probably wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done. But I really didn't think I'd be this dang miserable! It is so ridiculously hot --inside and hot-- that leaving the house is just not an option. And I feel so bad for being a hermit! I'm trying hard not beat myself up for not going to church..again..today. It just wasn't an option for me to actually get out of bed to go be miserable in public. But it makes me feel like I'm not taking ministry seriously. Eventually, I guess, I'll get to the point where I understand that I'm actually pregnant and can't do everything I would normally do. Right... I've got about 6weeks left to adjust to being pregnant... yeah, should've done that by now.

It's not like I don't love my son -- I do. This is really a dream come true. But... ENOUGH already!