Lately, life has taken on the form of a very steep staircase - shaped by quick ascents and relieving little plateaus. Given that I'm no master of either stairs or life, I look so forward to these calmer moments amidst the frenzied (read: parental) happenings of our days. As it happens, I'm taking respite in one of those very moments right now (though, I have to say, sometimes those little pauses are mom-made - a veritable necessity before the next sprint to scrub, firefight or scotch tape some near disaster back to normalcy). In the last several years I've come to not only accept but appreciate the wildness of our lives - I lounge in it. I channel surf whilst resting my feet on it. Because I would go crazy otherwise - and, hey, free footrest.
So, regarding those mom-made pauses, in the last four or so months I've become fairly adept at them. Not so much for me (pffftt..ok, as much for me - but no more), but out of necessity for a much more important cause. You see, our little family is happily expanding (along with my belly - which is equally expanding). It's a beautiful thing - for all of the obvious reasons - and because we are knowingly now trotting down the path to Frenzingham, a couple of train stops over from Hecticshire (where we currently reside).
Life will upheave, sleep will evaporate, toys, dishes, bibs and bottles will overrun the house in a bevy of unordered babyness - and it will be wonderful. And in exchange for the promise of chubby cheeks for kissing, a little voice for squealing and two big eyes for looking in wonderment I am working to provide this little one with quiet inside that is not hampered by bundles of stress. I am giving this child the Walden's Pond of uteruses.
I suspect that baby C's uterine living sounded more like my room junior year of college. New York City. One block from a fire station. Two blocks from a hospital. On fraternity row. On garbage collection day. During a street festival. And in return baby C delivered six months of endless screaming that sounded like all of those things. Amplified. I'd like to give myself a pass by saying that it was my first pregnancy and I was faced with a host of ridiculous and poorly timed traumas that reaked havoc on our finances, family and my collective psyche. While that may be true - it doesn't make any of how I handled it right.
And right on schedule those little stressors - those lovely little financial, familial traumas have reared their ugly heads again. And the inconvenient little bastards that they are - these pressures are ganging together to make kindling to my anxiety and re-create the same fire of worry, doubt and disquiet that they succeeded in doing three years ago. There are many things that I'd like to say to these stressors (and, frankly, to their underlying causes), none of which are child appropriate (buggering fuck-weasles comes to mind). Though I don't know that tapping into any of that anger is particularly useful either. Instead, I choose this baby. Taking the high road for this little one isn't a hard decision - but learning how to do it is somewhat akin to learning to walk for me. At the moment, I believe that I'm successfully cruising with stress - straining along its walls, table sides and chair tops until I'm striding across the room with confidence. It's a terrifying and endlessly frustrating journey full of pitfalls and rug burns. But it's progress.
I don't know what the next sixth months will bring with it - and, in the grander scheme, I suppose it doesn't matter provided that it ends with this baby. I'm stealing this sentiment from a friend - but it's so appropriate that it merits repetition - our first child made us parents, our second child made us a family. New little one - we've heard your heart beat, we've seen you wave, we've watched you grow from love and hope into what you are now (4 1/2 inches of sweet avocado sized joy). You have a Daddy who already adores you, a three year old who is bursting with excitement at the idea of being a big brother (we will encourage him to continue to build your sticks and moss castle in the backyard but will try to break it to him that you may prefer to live indoors) and as for a Mommy? You have a Mommy who loves you wholly, whose heart would beat 147 beats a minute just to keep time with yours and who simply cannot wait to wrap you in loving arms. Cozy up, little one, Mommy is fixing to create a quiet, happy home for you until its time for you to join us. Once you do - I can promise you a happy home full of love. Quiet...is another story altogether.
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