Tag Archives: single parenting

Parenting reflections on day 72

Posted in Reflections by

I’m exactly 72 days into parenting. 10 weeks and some change. At this particular moment I’m sitting at Whole Foods, large latte and muffin beside me, while a dear friend is with my little prince. I’m rested, showered and happy to be out. And —finally, reflecting on motherhood. Lesson number 1: reflection goes out the window when you’re a new mom. Who has the time to reflect? Life is a daily grind and a constant shuffle of strategic attempts to keep your baby fed, sleeping and dry. Success is momentary: I got the baby to sleep (bonus points if it’s in one of the actual sleeping designations versus in my arms); he seems full, he had a good poop, a good burp, good toots … the fanfare over bodily functions is no small thing! Success also comes in the form of a shower, getting out of the house, a lovely stroller ride where my little one doesn’t scream his head off and a successful stroll around the house or Target with Eliot in the ergo. I don’t even feel reflective enough to say, “it’s the little things” because it IS the little things—they are BIG things, and every triumph is in earnest these days.

That said, today I’m reflecting. I’m reflecting and eating a piece of cake masked as a muffin (german chocolate muffin, seriously Whole Foods?) because really I’m celebrating my most recent success, which is a sleep schedule. For 8 consecutive days I’ve put Baby E down at 8 PM and he’s slept, minus two brief feedings, until 8 AM. I know enough to know not to get too attached to the good or the bad during these changing baby days but still [for now] … if I’m dealing with a good sleeper, this is a game changer. (I can’t help the optimism; it’s in my DNA!) When Eliot (and I would think this goes for ALL babies) gets good naps and good sleep at night, the world is a better place. Cue the chirping birds.

A few words about Eliot: He’s such a delight. He’s giving away smiles in spades these days and mostly just looks at me and the world around him with these big, curious dirt-brown eyes … like he knows something the rest of us don’t. He loves taking baths with me—loves being submerged in the water; he’s pretty chill with most people and often calms down when we go outside—the great equalizer, much like his mama. I can get lost with him most days in the  cocoon of our home, listening to The Wiggles and reciting the nursery rhymes and rhythms I’m learning in baby yoga, provoking smiles and coos. Yesterday at BYOB (bring your own baby) Yoga another mom looked at us both and said, “He’s starting to look so much like you!” I just smiled, thinking of my little adopted embryo doppelgänger. What a little miracle, all of it.

It’s not all baby bliss. I get board. I get lonely. Occasionally I get blue. I’m impatient and cranky on days where the whining doesn’t seem to let up. But the mainstay of my mood has (thankfully) been one of optimism and gratitude. The love is real. And oh so sweet.

I’m heading back to work next week. Leaving my little cabbage with his “manny” (male nanny) starting Monday. His manny, who happens to live across the street, truly loves my little guy, which is the main comfort for a going-back-to-work mama. I’ll be working in three hour increments so in a way I’m dipping my toes into a world outside of baby. Still coming home to nurse. And before I know it he’ll be a quarter of a year old, then a year old, then in high school … make it stop!

If I have any true reflection from the past 72 days it is this: Parenting is a LOT of work. Babies are all need right out of the shoot, and unapologetically so. The crying jags are real; the witching hours (for us 5 PM-7 PM) are real, and the hormonal sways are real. But when I can totally surrender —generally what baby wants, baby gets —and maintain my sense of humor when plans are thwarted or baby makes a sport out of crying, the sweet moments are the sweetest of my life. And tomorrow is always a new day.

That’s all I got. (Literally. My time is up. Have to go relieve my friend and feed the baby!)

babyeliot-6

Designer baby musings

Posted in Pregnant by

Hello blog. It’s been a while. In pregnancy news I’m 6 1//2 months prego. In vegetable terms, baby Eliot is as big as a head of lettuce, although nothing about my waste resembles a cute little salad. It’s more like a balloon filled with little rockets that fancy going off and landing right between my breasts. Ode to the sweet, sentimental butterfly flutters from a few weeks past … my womb has turned into a playground and I have an active and curious little monkey in there.

Still over the moon though. Mostly.

The second trimester was pretty sweet. All the meds, shots, bruising and fatigue from the first trimester IVF cycle have been forgotten and forgiven. First lesson in parenting, I suppose. As the third trimester descends upon me, so does reality. The actual pregnancy (ouch, OMG, EASY TURBO, is that an elbow or a foot pounding into my ribs?!), decorating the nursery, finding the perfect nanny, the right diapers, the 101 on strollers, carseats and all baby things with gadgets, reading birth stories and parenting books (my favorite so far) … three months is a blink of the eye! In the heat of August my little designer baby love will be here. Eliot Michael Hart. I can’t wait to meet him! Speaking of my designer-love: If you remember from the last blog, I did an embryo adoption. That means that I am the recipient of another woman’s labor of love. The story has been told to me (from my doctor’s office) like this: a woman wanted a baby. Unable to produce one herself, for reasons of which I’m unaware, she found a Latino egg donor and an Irish sperm donor that she assumedly liked, had an embryo created in a pea-tree dish, did the ET (embryo transfer) and didn’t get pregnant. Distraught by her outcome, she didn’t try again and put her leftover embryo’s up for adoption. Enter: me. Lately I’ve felt particularly indebted to her, for giving me this gift. I’ve wanted to meet her, to thank her, although as my friend E pointed out, it would probably be very hard for her to meet happy, perky, basketball-bellied me. I suppose it’s a bitter-sweet mercy for her, to stay anonymous.

And a nod to embryo adoptions: This is my story, for now. Soon it will be more of Eliot’s story. And it’s a good story. There’s redemption and mystery; it’s progressive and filled with love, friends, humor and support; parts are bitter-sweet —no second parent, anonymous donor’s Eliot won’t be able to track down; most of the story is still unfolding. But in my research of embryo adoptions or “snowflake babies,” for the more sentimental than I, I’m learning about how new this way of having a baby really is! A quick history: in 2004 there were 213 babies born this way. President Bush invited them all to the White House, as these were the days when stem cell research was a hot topic, and adopting the embryo’s versus sending them off to science was all the rage in pro-life circles. According to my Internet research, as of 2013 there were 3,500 adopted embryo babies born in the U.S.A. I’m sure the number is much higher now, but STILL! I feel a small thrill to be a part of this budding new alternative to having a family. Most go through adoption agencies, with intensive home studies and social workers. I didn’t do any of that. There are 200 infertility clinics in the USA that do embryo adoptions and my then-doctor happened to be one of them! After getting to know me for a year of trying the old-fashioned way—IUI’s with a sperm donor, he recommended this option to me. It took me a minute to say yes. A minute and six months. But I did and well, here we are. Here I am. Sitting on my screened in porch on the quintessential spring day, eating local strawberries with my laptop and beautiful belly bump in tow.

I never would’ve thought I’d be so happy and content during the unfolding of Plan C in life. But I am. Lots of people are. We dont’ get what we want. We cry, then wipe our tears, and the sweet mystery is this: there’s still so much happiness and gratitude left for the taking. Maybe even more, since much of the entitlement and expectations drop off after a while. It doesn’t all feel like forced capitulation anymore. I said yes—when I almost said no, to am embryo adoption. And why this doctor (who offers embryo adoptions!) versus the other clinic in town—a flip of the coin, at the time. Life is coming together in such an unexpected way. It’s my norm at this point and the moments of lamenting a more conventional path are small. I do long to find companionship in this journey someday, even now, and sweet “daddy moments” I observe well me up a bit… but it doesn’t take away from my current love story. Baby Eliot has my heart–even in utero, and being single has not compromised any of the love or anticipation that I feel, which puts me in the universal pool of motherhood: single, married, partnered, biological child, adopted at birth or as an organism. It’s all the same journey of love. Mine is connected to a pregnancy and motherhood, but I don’t think this kind of grace is limited to child-rearing. Rather, it’s having the courage to keep going; Plan C, D, E or Z — to keep choosing a love story … there are myriad options waiting on us.

The ‘game-changer’ email

Posted in Trying to get pregnant by

These days my world hangs in the balance of my cycle.  Not my bicycle (as it once did); but my fertility cycle. When people ask me how I am, what I say is: Well, I started my period on Saturday, which has me on a 26 day cycle.  So that’s exciting, yes??  I’m having a lovely full-blown period, complete with cramps and lots of bleeding, which means I’m fertile, right?? That’s not really what I say.  Usually.  But it’s what I want to say.  Because, by some strange twist of fate, it’s all I’m thinking about these days.  A twist of fate because a mere six weeks ago I had never used the words ‘fertility’ and ‘cycle’ in the same sentence.  And I was primarily thinking about my dating life, not my period.  That elusive right guy: the electromagnetic chemistry, romance, love, marriage and then a baby in the baby carriage.  Instead I got a lot of texting, a string of forgettable dates and a glut of emails from shirtless men on motorcycles who thought I was purdy.  Or hot, “for my age.”

Did I mention I am 40?

Here’s my story of deciding to have a baby on my own (in the form of an email I wrote to my besties):

Hey there,

So I’m thinking about having a baby on my own.  I’ve been crying about it all night.  Last night K brought it up.  It was not a particularly handpicked moment, just an easy back porch hang with friends.  I was on the deck with D, K and S enjoying a healthy throw-together dinner with kids in and out.  K said she had a question for me.  Would you ever have a baby on your own?  My cap answer for this is usually no. Babies need fathers, etc, etc. But she went on to say that she and D had recently watched “The Switch” on Netflix and that she realizes life doesn’t always offer up our dream life on a silver platter and that if I did want to do it on my own that they would be supportive.  I immediately started to cry.  I asked if it was selfish.  They all said no, it was natural and biological to want to have a child.  They reminded me that I’m financially responsible and stable, I love kids, I’d be a good mom, and this doesn’t mean that I’m destined to be single.  It just means I’m taking more control of my fertility and this very small window I still have left to have a child.  I broke down and talked about how I’ve felt this past decade, with no watershed moments of which to speak.  I started to think about how lackluster my spiritual life has become, how surreal everything seems, watching friend after friend get pregnant, get married, keep moving forward in life…

I came home last night and have been in and out of tears all night.  I look up sperm donors.  Then I break down, resisting the options in front of me. But something deeper than my lament is happening too … for the first time in forever I don’t feel totally powerless on this front.  I’ve been dating ad nauseam this past year and I’m tired.  And nothing is working in any dynamic sense.  I got off Match.com   a few weeks ago because I’m so weary of how trivial my personal life is starting to feel.  I feel like my professional life is rooted in matters of the heart; my personal life is an endless stream of fancy restaurants and cocktail interviews.  It’s exhausting.  And it’s not me.  It’s not the Northwestern girl that is rooted in nature and relationship; spiritual matters and real life living.  And maybe if I take more ownership of my dreams and desires, true love will find its way to me. It’s not working with me being a vigil ante, constantly on the lookout for love.  And it’s not realistic for me to ‘not care’ at this stage of the game, to let love find me because I’m ‘not looking for it.’  I am looking for it.  

The tears are letting a dream die I guess, as another one begins to rise up.  I don’t want to be alone in life.  And I would be a good mom.  Even more, I want to grow again; I want my roots to deepen and wisdom and grace to be guides again.  I want to take risks and live out of the faith that comes with risk.  Also, I think I could do it.  I could make a decent living working 20 hours a week while hiring a nanny part-time; I could be a single mom and raise my own child. I don’t have a trajectory of day cares and schlepping; 10 hr work days, financial stresses and constant time crunches.  I could do it in my way.  I could make baby food and teach a little one about compassion and God and how to play soccer and love animals.  I know I could.  And my community is supportive.  And filled with good men.  Men that would help me, that are already fathers and know how it works.

As soon as I begin to think about all this in any hopeful sort of way the tears start to flow. It feels so scary and lonely to think about doing it on my own.  And it’s not what I want.  But I don’t want what I have either.

Anyway, I feel like last night might be a game-changer.  I’m in the rabbit hole.  I’ve been looking at sperm donors for the past hour.  It’s extremely weird.  It’s crazy how simple and relatively inexpensive it is to get sperm.  Who knows if I can even get pregnant?  So much to think about …

But this is what I am thinking about.  Wanted to let you know.  xx

And this is how my life changed in three days. I had dinner with friends, then cried all night, wrote an email, cried a few more days, talked lengthily to my inner circle, got the blessing from my parents and then – within 72 hours – got off the dating sites and started to stalk the sperm donor sites, instead.

Cut to yesterday: I woke up and read my new bible, Taking Charge of Your Fertility for a while, after taking my basil body temperature of course. Then I noticed, since my period started on Saturday, that I’m on a 26 day cycle. According to my iPhone app this means I’m going to try to ‘conceive’ on July 9th! But I’ll save that story for another blog entry.

It’s not sexy. But it’s still a love story, in a Modern Family sort-of way.