Oh! Hello!
That last post with the terribly grainy pictures? Posted from the iPhone in under five minutes. The one before that? Posted three days before Squirt was born. . . seven weeks ago. What I’ve been doing since then? You know — learning how I’m going to do this mommy thing, breastfeeding a whole lot, changing (and washing) diapers quite a bit, not sleeping a ton, and just generally falling more in love with our little Asher man every single day. There’s also a lot I haven’t been doing: cleaning, grooming, cooking, staying in touch with friends and loved ones, or blogging (obviously). But I think I’m starting to get to what my new normal will be (she says foolishly, intentionally ignoring the reality that in a few more weeks, she’ll be back to teaching and grading and all of that chaos that will undoubtedly send this “normal” into complete upheaval). I have some blog posts in the works in my head anyway. And because pregnancy and childbirth may have changed a lot but they did not change my love of listmaking. . .
Asher’s name and his nicknames
The story of his birth (the way I will tell him, so no gory details)
Good baby stuff — books, gear, and gadgets that have saved me
And in meta-blog news, despite the very narrowly focused list, I don’t think Misadventures of Bee is going to become a full-on mommy blog just because there are more dimensions to my life that I want to think about and document. But I’m pretty sure it’s going to continue to be written primarily for me (i.e., I’ll write whatever the heck I feel like writing with no particular theme or audience in mind), and I’m even more certain that at least for a bit, there will be a whole lot of baby business here because that’s this pretty big thing that’s dominating my life and my thoughts right now. So, y’know, if you’re not into the whole baby thing, maybe check back in a month or two.
Asher
You are here, Little Man, and you are perfect. Those are the only words I have right now.
Just a little patience
Well, Little Squirt,
I thought you were coming yesterday. I followed the doctor’s directions and went to the hospital after you’d been getting all squeezed and contorted in there every five minutes for a good two or three hours. But even after your daddy and I did a marathon walking session along the same two corridors–corridors lined with imprints of baby feet, birth announcements, It’s a boy/girl signs, sweet little new baby cries, and windows looking into nurseries–for an hour, you were not convinced. So they patted me on my fanny and told me to come back when it hurt a lot worse, and I felt my first twinge of mommy failure.
But last night, you let me sleep for many, many hours. It was the first time I’d gotten sleep like that in over 10 weeks. And what a sweet gift it was.
Now I feel patient. Now I can wait for you to be ready, even if it means more days of contractions. That’s not to say I won’t have another breakdown. It might even happen tomorrow because that’s how things go around here lately. After all, I can only do non-stop pain for so long; I’m kind of a wimp that way. But for now, all of these contractions are getting processed as practice, and I’m waiting for you to get enough practice in to really feel ready.
I keep reminding myself that you’re not even supposed to be here until May 23. So I’ll toughen up, and you’ll keep practicing, and at some point, you will be here. You will be here, and I will kiss your little feet from the comfort of a room with an “It’s a Boy” sign on the door. And all of this will be forgotten.
Ok, Little Buddy,
I’ve had contractions for three days now, and at the start of day four, I’m having the biggest ones I’ve had so far. Please tell me we’re working up to something here. I can handle the pain if it means you’re coming, but these days of no results aren’t doin’ it for me.
I promise our house is a million times better than my womb. Your nana Jana has furnished your section of our room, and your grandma Claire has the nursery stocked and ready. You already have two big, glorious spaces that are all yours. You should come check ‘em out.
Either that or knock it off with the build-up until you’re really ready to make your official appearance. Yes, I know I like to plan and be prepared, but I’ve had plenty of preview now. Promise.
Wish List
Now that I’ve successfully bedrested into full term, I’m indulging in some self-love. These are things I’d buy myself if money weren’t an issue. Call them bed rest gifts. Call them early Mother’s Day or birthday gifts. I really don’t care what you call ‘em. Who am I kidding; I don’t need a special occasion to want presents!
I LOVE this star necklace from Etsy. That the number of stars happens to match the number of people (soon to be) in our family is pretty sweet, too.
I need new sneakers for the LP and Abby walks in my future. I’m hoping these Tone-Ups will help with Operation Recover Bee’s Booty.
Yep. . . still lusting after that gorgeous MacBook Pro. New bonus: built-in webcam means skyping with grandparents.
This is the pricey but gorgeous baby book I’d spring for. It’s not the standard, cutesy baby book. It’s a baby book with spunk and plenty of room for customization.
And since I know I’m going to take a million pictures in the coming days/months/years, of course I want a digital SLR. This blog would be prettier if I had one.
Soundtrack wishes for my little guy
My wishes for you. . .
that you develop a strong sense of self because life is so much easier when you own you who are and just rock it
that you are given the gift of perspective so that even in those very necessary, hard, character-building times, you understand that good is just around the corner
that you realize your power to make change in the world and that you do good with it
that you really live life, show up and participate, and be willing to take risks, knowing that even if you fail, you’ve accomplished something
that you develop the tenacity and sheer stubbornness to pursue your dreams and to stand up for what you believe in and that you always feel my unconditional support and love, especially in those fights
that you are brave enough to pursue your dreams. . . no matter what anyone else thinks
that you always remember that no matter what people look like, no matter what they do for a living, no matter how different from you they are, everyone is human and deserves to be treated as such
that your dreams aren’t ever limited by silly things like practicality or feasibility
that you always get up one time more than you fall
that you learn early that you really can do anything you set your mind to
that you never quit believing in or learning about yourself and that all failures lead to new insights because failures really are how learning happens
that you are an irreplaceable friend because there’s nothing more valuable in the world and that your friends are just as dear to you
that you’re always able to find sunshine and that you spread it like a free, precious gift
that your entire life is a celebration because all lives should be
LP Soundtrack — Track 14
LP Soundtrack — Track 13
Hey, Little Guy,
We only have three days left of bed rest. That means we’re closer than ever to meeting you. Your daddy and I are both really excited. I don’t think I’ve dreamt of anything other than you for weeks now. Last night, I washed a bunch of teeny, tiny clothes for you, and as I folded them, I laid some of them on my belly, trying to figure out how you are going to fit into something so little. You seem so much bigger, tumbling around in my belly.
This weekend we’re going to get everything else ready–your spot in our room, the rest of your clothes and diapers, the car seat, our hospital bags, all of it. We have a feeling, and we’re hoping, that you’re not going to stay in there long once the doctor lets me get up and move around. You’ve been trying to get out here for a couple months now; it shouldn’t take much to convince you that we’re ready.
I want you to be ready. too. I want you to be completely ready so that once you get here, we can bring you home right away and start the party. If everything’s a go in there, then get out here! If it’s not quite prime time yet, though, I’ll be patient. We’ve waited this long; a couple more weeks won’t hurt too bad.
Just know that when you are ready, we will be, too. So, so ready. Ready to kiss those chubby little cheeks. Ready to touch that hair that’s probably grown even more thick since we saw it on the sonogram weeks ago. Ready to feel your little hands wrap around our fingers. Ready to hear your cry. I have a theory that you’re going to look just like your daddy–dark hair, gorgeous blue eyes, easily tanned olive skin, a smile to die for. And still I know that no matter what I’ve imagined, you’re going to be more gorgeous, more perfect than my mind can dream.
A long time ago, your grandma Claire told me that I was her greatest accomplishment. I was in graduate school then, working on achieving my big dreams, and my response was, “That’s so sad. I’m sorry.” I didn’t understand then that she wasn’t belittling all her other accomplishments, and she wasn’t putting pressure on me. She was honoring the miracle of my life. Even though babies are conceived and born every single day all over the world, that doesn’t lessen the miracle that is you. And if we’re antsy about getting you here, it’s only because we’re so excited to meet our little miracle.
I know you’ll do it on your own time because with your parents, there’s no way you’re not stubborn and independent. But if you could just do me a solid and not wait longer than necessary, that’d be rockin’. C’mon, little miracle man. The whole world is waiting!
