Shallow Man and I went on our honeymoon to Disneyland. While we were there, we started up a family tradition and bought a soft stuffed Winnie-the-Pooh doll and a cute little bib, I think with Piglet on it, to eventually give to our firstborn. We weren't expecting to have children right away but knew we wanted them at some point. So we decided that every vacation we went on, we would buy a Christmas ornament (really convenient because you can display them for a month and then put them back in storage) and something for a future baby.
Of course, we weren't expecting things to take so long.
I was cleaning out my office in our house last week and found a few of the baby items which I had been looking at a few weeks back but hadn't put away at the time. Probably because I had figured that they would have to be gotten out again before too much longer anyway, so may as well leave them out.
Since that trip to Disneyland, we've managed to amass a significant amount of baby items. Not enough to fill up a nursery or anything like that, but five years' worth of globe-trotting certainly adds up. Throughout the years new gifts have joined Pooh and his bib. A sippy cup from Disneyland Paris, a jester hat from Geneva, a stuffed bear from the USS Alabama (of all places!), tiny socks from Santiago saying "I (heart) Papi," a smattering of onesies with cute sayings on them from all over the South, a knit poncho and hat from Peru, and so forth. Some onesies from my sisters, which they painted for us (one with Piglet, one with Pom Pom) when they were making some for Christmas for my other sister and my sister-in-law when they were pregnant with their first children. (My mom had called me beforehand to make sure we'd be okay with it.)
And, most recently, two blankets. One is from my grandfather's house, which was cleaned out recently when he moved in with my aunt's family. It was my favorite blanket to use during naptime when my grandparents were babysitting me as a child, and I think my sister and I even had a few fights back then over who got to use it. It's a little blue quilt, bright blue on one side and blue-and-white checked on the other with a picture of a little smiling caterpillar. The picture is surrounded by the kind of lace that you imagine lining pioneer petticoats and the quilt is tied with fluffy white yarn all over. I can't imagine how it has lasted through so many years and so many grandchildren and still be in such good shape. I picked it out during the cleanup especially so I could use it for my coming little one.
During the course of that day, my two sweet aunts, who were spearheading the cleanup effort, brought a bag over to me that they'd found which had two baby blankets in it that my grandmother had made before she passed away. This was during the weekend of my orphanhood, so I was the appointed representative for my family in bringing back items designated for them. My aunt L said that the blankets were for my sister and sister-in-law (both expecting their second children), or for me if I wanted one, or whatever I wanted. We hadn't made the announcement at that point so I just said it was fine for them to go to the sisters. Aunt L gave me a hug and said she hoped it would happen for us soon. I smiled and thanked her, thinking of our secret.
My aunt M said that she had a blanket to give to me instead, and in the course of a few weeks said blanket was passed along to me. It's also pretty adorable, with a pink border and floating cows. When I got it I squished it a few times and thought about wrapping up a baby in it. Both blankets had been living in my office ever since, as I hadn't figured out where I wanted to put them yet.
I found them, along with the poncho and some onesies, and squished them again a few times. Then I wrapped them up in a plastic bag. I'll put them away with the other baby gifts tomorrow, where they can all start waiting again.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Wherein the Husband Makes the Occasional Post on a "Family" Blog
Oh, you know how it is.
The husband (or simply "DH") drops by these blogs occasionally, writing a brief, disjointed comment or two, and then disappears for weeks at a time, with virtually no input.
You know, I just may end up doing that. It is, after all, tradition, and far be it from me to ignore tradition.
Which isn't to say I'm exactly a "traditional" guy on these blogs. I have no Utah roots by blood, and, culturally speaking, I suppose you could say I straddle the line somewhere between the South and the "Mormon culture" of Utah. I'm not sure what my role is here. Having met far too many sociology majors, I don't really buy into the sociological explanations as much, but I don't feel quite the same sense of "role" as many do.
As the "traditional" husband, and setting aside the grief for the moment, my feelings, thoughts, and concerns lay along the following lines:
1) A constant sense of arrested development
I'll be 28 at the end of this month. This certainly doesn't make me an "old" man by any stretch of the imagination. But I sure am a bit old to, say, go to the in-laws for Christmas. Every. Year.
Don't get me wrong - I have fantastic in-laws. And I've always enjoyed spending time with them, including holidays. But we're really getting to that point where it's time to leave the nest, to strike out on our own, to form our own "family". And, we do have our own "family". We are, of course, married, living together in the holy bonds of matrimony and what have you. But, as our roles in the home aren't particularly well-defined (thanks, 1960's!) and as there is little to structure to our days, we often seem to find ourselves slowly shifting from being "spouses" to being in some ways, like, well, roommates. Obviously, there are some pretty significant differences, but the basic concept is there.
Being a parent, on the other hand, brings meaning. It defines roles, creates expectations, and gives couples a reason for structure cause to rally behind. It brings you together in a way that wasn't possible before.
I think we're ready to be brought together like that - we just can't at this point. And that bothers me.
2) Pessimism and detachment
As if two people who have gone to law school and are only a year away from becoming full-fledged lawyers needed any more of this. Let's just say that "optimism" isn't exactly a word we've heard a lot lately. Lawyers make horrible businessmen. To the extent that lawyers recognize this, they succeed. Lawyers are trained to see risk, not opportunity; to look for problems, not solutions.
We've been here - twice. We've lost - twice.
When the third time comes around, I just don't see it being a happy event at this point. Not a time to ponder the joy that will happen in 9 months, but the pain that is certain to come around in a few weeks. And how to handle that inevitable pain. Sonograms and ultrasounds, those traditionally happy moments for parents, won't be opportunities to see the baby but to wait for the ax to fall. And why bother setting anything up if you're going to have to take it down? Why spread the "good news" if you've got to go through the awkward-for-all-parties reversal in just a few weeks?
And how will this affect attachment? Should we avoid giving out names? Thinking about the future? Wondering if "it" will be a boy or a girl? Will I view "it" as a wonderful person in utero or a devastating disappointment on the horizon?
I don't know.
3) Uncertainty
We're at a bit of a crossroads right now.
I was recently given a (conditional) offer to join the Foreign Service. To say that this process was long and difficult would be an understatement. But it's also been a dream of mine to join up and see the world, learn languages, and serve my country.
The problem, of course, is that I have no idea where we'll be sent. I know that we'll be in D.C. for 2-10 months, and then to the four winds. This means that access to fertility treatments and adoption processes will be unpredictable, to say the least.
As the side panel of the blog points out, we've been married for quite some time now. We're both ready to have a family. We don't want to delay this unnecessarily. This does not work well with the Foreign Service life of living in third world countries with little basic medical care, let alone fertility specialists. In some countries, I imagine the only fertility treatments available to us would involve dancing and chanting...
So the road to joining the Foreign Service may well have been a long, hard road to nowhere. If the service will effectively prevent us from having kids for the next five years (a not-unlikely conclusion), then, well, it just might not be for us.
But where does that leave us? What are we to do? What about the dream?
I don't know. A lot can happen between now and August 2010, the earliest I would ship out for training. But that also makes it hard for me to (honestly) shop for private sector jobs or plan anything. We've put off purchasing furniture, electronics, most any "heavy" objects, a car and a lot of other things all because we might be shipped to a country in 18 months where we couldn't take them with us. But that "might" is really bothering me right now. I don't like not knowing where I'll be. I don't like looking at an unruly stack of books on my desk and remembering that I might be moving across the country and across the world in a year's time, so I better not buy that bookcase.
And what if we stay here? Where will I work? Where will we live? How will we pay the bills? At what point do we decide the Foreign Service is a go, or not?
I have no idea. With the possible need for fertility treatments or adoption procedures ahead of us, I just can't say where we'll be or what we'll be doing in the next year, which has effectively put our lives on hold yet again - and may torpedo a dream.
So, those are the "DH"'s sily, selfish, decidedly male thoughts. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll let the missus wander back in here and fix things up.
The husband (or simply "DH") drops by these blogs occasionally, writing a brief, disjointed comment or two, and then disappears for weeks at a time, with virtually no input.
You know, I just may end up doing that. It is, after all, tradition, and far be it from me to ignore tradition.
Which isn't to say I'm exactly a "traditional" guy on these blogs. I have no Utah roots by blood, and, culturally speaking, I suppose you could say I straddle the line somewhere between the South and the "Mormon culture" of Utah. I'm not sure what my role is here. Having met far too many sociology majors, I don't really buy into the sociological explanations as much, but I don't feel quite the same sense of "role" as many do.
As the "traditional" husband, and setting aside the grief for the moment, my feelings, thoughts, and concerns lay along the following lines:
1) A constant sense of arrested development
I'll be 28 at the end of this month. This certainly doesn't make me an "old" man by any stretch of the imagination. But I sure am a bit old to, say, go to the in-laws for Christmas. Every. Year.
Don't get me wrong - I have fantastic in-laws. And I've always enjoyed spending time with them, including holidays. But we're really getting to that point where it's time to leave the nest, to strike out on our own, to form our own "family". And, we do have our own "family". We are, of course, married, living together in the holy bonds of matrimony and what have you. But, as our roles in the home aren't particularly well-defined (thanks, 1960's!) and as there is little to structure to our days, we often seem to find ourselves slowly shifting from being "spouses" to being in some ways, like, well, roommates. Obviously, there are some pretty significant differences, but the basic concept is there.
Being a parent, on the other hand, brings meaning. It defines roles, creates expectations, and gives couples a reason for structure cause to rally behind. It brings you together in a way that wasn't possible before.
I think we're ready to be brought together like that - we just can't at this point. And that bothers me.
2) Pessimism and detachment
As if two people who have gone to law school and are only a year away from becoming full-fledged lawyers needed any more of this. Let's just say that "optimism" isn't exactly a word we've heard a lot lately. Lawyers make horrible businessmen. To the extent that lawyers recognize this, they succeed. Lawyers are trained to see risk, not opportunity; to look for problems, not solutions.
We've been here - twice. We've lost - twice.
When the third time comes around, I just don't see it being a happy event at this point. Not a time to ponder the joy that will happen in 9 months, but the pain that is certain to come around in a few weeks. And how to handle that inevitable pain. Sonograms and ultrasounds, those traditionally happy moments for parents, won't be opportunities to see the baby but to wait for the ax to fall. And why bother setting anything up if you're going to have to take it down? Why spread the "good news" if you've got to go through the awkward-for-all-parties reversal in just a few weeks?
And how will this affect attachment? Should we avoid giving out names? Thinking about the future? Wondering if "it" will be a boy or a girl? Will I view "it" as a wonderful person in utero or a devastating disappointment on the horizon?
I don't know.
3) Uncertainty
We're at a bit of a crossroads right now.
I was recently given a (conditional) offer to join the Foreign Service. To say that this process was long and difficult would be an understatement. But it's also been a dream of mine to join up and see the world, learn languages, and serve my country.
The problem, of course, is that I have no idea where we'll be sent. I know that we'll be in D.C. for 2-10 months, and then to the four winds. This means that access to fertility treatments and adoption processes will be unpredictable, to say the least.
As the side panel of the blog points out, we've been married for quite some time now. We're both ready to have a family. We don't want to delay this unnecessarily. This does not work well with the Foreign Service life of living in third world countries with little basic medical care, let alone fertility specialists. In some countries, I imagine the only fertility treatments available to us would involve dancing and chanting...
So the road to joining the Foreign Service may well have been a long, hard road to nowhere. If the service will effectively prevent us from having kids for the next five years (a not-unlikely conclusion), then, well, it just might not be for us.
But where does that leave us? What are we to do? What about the dream?
I don't know. A lot can happen between now and August 2010, the earliest I would ship out for training. But that also makes it hard for me to (honestly) shop for private sector jobs or plan anything. We've put off purchasing furniture, electronics, most any "heavy" objects, a car and a lot of other things all because we might be shipped to a country in 18 months where we couldn't take them with us. But that "might" is really bothering me right now. I don't like not knowing where I'll be. I don't like looking at an unruly stack of books on my desk and remembering that I might be moving across the country and across the world in a year's time, so I better not buy that bookcase.
And what if we stay here? Where will I work? Where will we live? How will we pay the bills? At what point do we decide the Foreign Service is a go, or not?
I have no idea. With the possible need for fertility treatments or adoption procedures ahead of us, I just can't say where we'll be or what we'll be doing in the next year, which has effectively put our lives on hold yet again - and may torpedo a dream.
So, those are the "DH"'s sily, selfish, decidedly male thoughts. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll let the missus wander back in here and fix things up.
Checking in
No, I haven't died, or forgotten about this blog, or just gotten too lazy. I've been running around like a headless chicken for the last week or so. My sister had her second child, an adorable little girl, and we've been helping out with big brother, who is two years old, one of our best buddies, and who also managed to break his wrist about three hours after mommy, daddy and little sister came home from the hospital. Good times, good times. But it's still been fun.
In other news, we had our follow-up appointment yesterday and everything is looking fine. So at least I know that I am capable of, what, healthy miscarriages? No surgery or anything needed. And now we just have to wait and see if the old friend shows up again on its own or if we will need to use more persuasive means. Sigh. Here we go again, I guess.
But in the meantime, I'm heading to bed. Sleep well, all!
In other news, we had our follow-up appointment yesterday and everything is looking fine. So at least I know that I am capable of, what, healthy miscarriages? No surgery or anything needed. And now we just have to wait and see if the old friend shows up again on its own or if we will need to use more persuasive means. Sigh. Here we go again, I guess.
But in the meantime, I'm heading to bed. Sleep well, all!
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Side note
What sick sense of irony sends me the insurance statement from that ultrasound on the same day my sister goes in to get induced for child #2? Ha very ha, universe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)