More clarity + more growth

My previous post on this blog was literally the day before my son was born, five weeks premature. It is so weird to go back and read it... it feels like a dispatch from a foreign country. I remember taking that photo, walking out to the back garden at my mother's house, in the snow. Seeing the trees with the snow so perfectly laid down on the branches. Feeling the stillness of the winter woods, of that point in my life. I realize now that it was the calm before a major storm. 

That night before I went to bed I used the bathroom and there was a bit of blood in my underwear. Only a tiny amount, like just pink really. Still, I texted Adam to let him know. We agreed to keep an eye on it. The next day in the afternoon I had an appointment scheduled to see my doctor, so I figured if I was still having bleeding the next day she could check me out. 

I went to bed.

Around 2 am, bad back pain woke me up. It was so bad I had to sit up in the bed. Then it passed. A few minutes later it was back. I waited about 10 minutes before I got up and woke my mom up. We agreed that I should go to the hospital. 35 weeks pregnant at that point, we didn't want to take chances. It's an hour's drive from my mom's house to the hospital, and it was snowing fairly heavily. So we called an ambulance. 

I got to the hospital around 4 am and by 6:53, Aidan Michael was born. 

At some point I'll flesh out the details of the birth, and all that came after (2.5 weeks in the NICU, a breastfeeding attempt and fail, the decision to move to formula, moving in to my new apartment, and the slow movement of winter into spring and sadness into happiness)... but for now I just wanted to update the blog. Aidan has arrived, and life is more wonderful now. More clear. I honestly feel happier than I have in years... and grateful for most if not all that happened in the last six months. 

For more pics of Aidan Michael Elliott-Noble, here are the ones I've posted on Instagram!

clarity

The last post I wrote on here was called "foggy waters" and indeed things felt foggy then. Things feel clearer now. 

Crazy to think that last post was on November 18th. It feels like far longer ago than that! A month and a half only... those days in between feel hard-won.

Anyway, it felt like time for an update. 

A lot of the questions in that last post have been answered. Yes, we're breaking up. Yes, there is hope - but not about us getting back together. It's hope for the baby, for us as co-parents. For our family (extended) to crack apart and then mend in a new way. We're doing pretty good at that so far. We're gathering the stuff the baby will need, and we're communicating well. The support of my own parents and brother has been invaluable. Yes, I will thrive again.  I can feel the buds of that appearing. Yes, I will have my own place. (There is one in the works, I just haven't moved in yet.) 

A lot of the things I mentioned as helping me through the dark patches are still what gives me life. Friends, and their texts, and laughing with them - LIFE. Music, old from my past or new, introduced to me - MORE LIFE. Writing about it - in my journal, in drafts in my email for future posts. In texts to friends. Same: LIFE. These things remind me I am alive, I am bad-ass, I am getting through. I CAN get through. 

I picked a word for this year, and it is GROW. On Instagram I wrote: "What I'm interested in inviting into my life this year is... growth. Both that of my baby (in the next month and a half she or he is growing to full-term, being born and then there is all the growth after that), and of myself. I'm growing as a person too... becoming a mother. Living on my own for the first time since I was 18. (I had room-mates after my first apartment on my own, and then lived with my partner for five years.) Going through a separation is a painful process and the last three months of 2017 were about things breaking apart, and me feeling broken. I want to *heal*, to feel *joy*. I want to respect the process of course - not just pretend I'm not sad when I'm sad - but I want to welcome in the positive growth that is part of this process too."

Right now the growth feels hidden. Under snow, in the case of the garden and the woods. Under my own skin, in the case of the baby that I cannot yet see, but who is slowly getting bigger every day, getting ready to be born. (Holy shit!) And hidden beyond this moment, in the future, unknown, in the case of everything else - my new place, when it will be ready, how I'll move in, what I'll need, how the birth will go. 

But just because I can't see it, doesn't mean it's not happening. Secret small things are unfurling, are building off each other, are becoming real and new. GROWTH is surprising, GROWTH is ancient and yet brand new. Growth is happening. 

Foggy waters

1. I've got the feeling of being scrubbed raw. A layer taken off your soul. I know, that sounds dramatic. But it's real. 
2. Christmas is a-coming. I want to pick out gifts for the people I love but I'm damn tired. I think I'll make a Pinterest board instead. Everyone's getting gift cards! In the meantime I'll be here listening to Michael Buble's Christmas album.
3. I love that feeling when you remember an album that feels like it speaks right to you. In lyrics, in beats, in stories. Right now it's HERE by Alicia Keys. Earbuds in, and this is like juice right to me. 
4. Someday, I think. I'll be thriving again. What will that look like? What will that feel like? Will I have my own place? Will I have money issues? What's going to happen to me? To me and the kiddo? What will life look like? 
5. Driving an hour each way every day. Staying with my mother. Wondering how much to say publicly. Who to tell. The word like a whisper, a crack in ice spreading. "Break-up." A tragedy some minutes. A revelation, a freedom, in others. He hasn't told anyone yet except his parents. Why not? Is this happening or is it not? 
6. Is there hope? I don't know. Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. Will we get back together? I mean, who can tell the future? And if they could, would I believe them? 
7.  Breathe. "Pick a word and just focus on that," or whatever the book said.
8. The night, so dark. I get out of my car and there are no outside lights on. It is pitch black. I feel so alone. I stand in the middle of the driveway and sob. 
9. Other times I am laughing, at movies or at tweets or at other things. Other times I am texting with close friends and it is OK. It is going to be OK. 
10. I write here because it's my space. My writing space. "You could just keep it in a journal," says the critic in my head. Yeah, but... I've been doing that. For a month now. And I'm starting to feel ready to let people know, people other than my nearest and dearest. There is still hope we'll get back together, but there is also reality. This is my reality right now. Pregnant. Broken up. Navigating the foggy waters, seeing what life will look like. What it does look like, right now. One day at a time. And, I'm remembering, this is what I do, to get through. I write about it. (It helps that I don't think anyone reads this blog unless I specifically point them to it with a link from Instagram.)

Cozy

At my mother's house. Cozy, nesting. Resting. A place to cocoon and protect and heal. This cat helps. 

the truth of the matter is

1. It's 1:11 am.
2. I am not sleeping well this past week. 
3. I woke up hungry. Peanut butter and jelly on bread with a glass milk called me. And we're talking white-ass bread, fucking Kraft peanut butter, raspberry jelly. The suburban meal I didn't have growing up, that I'm living now.
4. I got up. Made it. Ate it. Instagram-storied it. Made another. Ate that too. Fuck it.
5. The truth of the matter is we're going through something. And it's not easy. 
6. The truth of the matter is also that I'm not ready to share. That there's more to it than meets the eye. That it's private. That it's delicate. 
7. Most importantly, that it's OK. It's OK now, and things will be OK, no matter how they turn out. I get that now. 
8. I leak tears from time to time. This is my body processing emotion. It's OK.
9. The way he pats my belly, says hi to the kid. Even when things are hard, there is this.
10. I miss writing, so much. I'm going to a local writers' group on November 8th. I'm making this happen. It's important to me. 
11. Bonus one: it's time to go back to bed now. 
12. Bonus two: but first, this post by Mara Glatzel from May 5. I don't know what exactly in her own life and relationship she was referring to but it is speaking to me like crazy right now.

This post format is 100% inspired by Alisha Sommer's beautiful posts.

Monday Monday

Trying out the Squarespace blog app... we’re traveling tomorrow to the US and I won’t be taking my computer with me, but I do want to keep up with blogging. 

This was Mittens this morning. I took a photo of her so I can look at it when I miss her (yup, I know, I’m a sook) and it cracks me up because she’s looking at me like, “Come onnnnn, it’s only a week.” Whatever.  

Dear Baby - Weeks 21/22/23

(Written last week:)

Dear Baby,

Today we had another ultrasound for you. Your grandma, Mary Jane, your Dad's mom, came with me. We went to the Northside General hospital and saw Julie the student and the other ultrasound tech whose name I forget, the ones who had done our ultrasound two weeks previous, at the Regional Hospital. They had me back in to take pictures of your heart, which right now looks like a flashing black spot on the screen (to me at least - I bet those ultrasound techs can see more than that). The last time we went for an ultrasound, two weeks ago, you were lying with your back to the ultrasound transducer and they couldn't get the pictures they wanted. So today I went back in. I drank 1L of water and lay on the bed with my belly exposed, covered in goopy gel, while the techs moved the transducer, slid and pressed it over my belly to try and see you. Your head was down by my pelvis and your legs were up over you, like up by my belly button. 

Your grandma was very excited - this was her first time in the ultrasound room. She sat by my left side and peeked at the screen, sometimes leaning way over to see it. When I went to the bathroom to pee out some of the water (it's a lot of water to keep in at once!), I came back to hear her telling the techs that she is 72 and this baby has been a long time coming. They congratulated her. We are all very excited to meet you, dear baby. 

It's crazy to me that you are right now inside of me, and that in four months or so you'll be out, in the outside world, a real live human, doing stuff. And that we'll get to meet you and name you, hold you and take care of you. It blows my mind every day. 

---

(Written yesterday)

Dear Baby... 

I was at work and sitting in Amanda's office at break time, like usual. I was patting my stomach. I'm either at 22 weeks or 23, depending on how you're growing and if you're growing too slowly or if I really am behind a week. I said, "I feel like I've hit a plateau and the baby isn't growing." Amanda said, "When you're at 35-40 weeks you'll be like, 'remember when I was complaining because my belly was small?'" and we both laughed.

I'm at work and I don't want to put in some reporting I have to do. It's tedious. I wonder if, when you are here, and I am off work, if I will miss this? Having an office to go to. Time will tell. 

Katie, who is the secretary at work and who is also pregnant, and at 30 weeks currently, (I find myself hoping you will know her baby and maybe be friends), was telling me that she didn't really "pop" until 26 weeks. And that now she really feels she has a belly! I guess I had better get on that maternity coat I've been thinking of buying... the air is getting cooler and my current coats are starting to strain over my belly. Over you. It won't be long now til you grow bigger and I will need a coat that fits.

Tonight I went for a walk. It occurs to me every now and then that I take you with me everywhere I go. To the bathroom! To the grocery store! You are there. Megan (the other pregnant lady at work - she is a month or so behind me in gestation time, and I hope you also know her baby in the years to come) has already had one child and she says that once the baby is born, it feels a little sad to no longer have another being with you always. I wonder at what that will feel like. 

I wonder so much these days. Both in the sense of awe at what is happening within my body, but also in the sense of imagining what is in the future and what has not yet happened. Who will you be? How will your arrival change my life, change your father's and my life? And I am in awe, too, at how funny life is. How for years, your father and I went back and forth about whether or not to even try to make a baby, whether or not we wanted to have kids, and how once we did start trying, BAM, right away you came. It feels sudden. But in a way it is not.

Well, I had better wrap this up, and save some thoughts for later. Keep growing, and moving, and being, in there, dear baby. 

-Your mama