birds, bees, ashes

wow it’s been a long time since i posted. i’ve been pretty busy managing life with my pack of children. i’ve been processing our newfound status as an alternative family. i had a big talk with legoboy about how babies are made and about how dosmamas’ baby was made. he asked if the baby will look like dada. i guess he got it. i said we’d have to wait and see.

we are hoping he doesnt decide to tell everybody at school that his dad rubbed his penis and sperm came out and he gave it to our friends and they used a thingy to put it in s’s vagina and a baby grew. that would surely raise a few eyebrows. for the most part our friends dont know about the donation. none of our family members know.

i decided not to go for the birth. it seems to be the right decision. i am very much looking forward to making the little lady’s acquaintance however.

totally different subject: legoboy asked what happened to charlotte after she died. specifically he asked if she was thrown away. gulp. i gave him the straight story about burials and cremations. i told him we had her cremated. i had to use the word burned. there was really no way to sugar coat it. naturally he asked to see her ashes. i showed him and monstergirl. i have no plans to show them her photo. maybe if we get the photos improved then they can see them. i think they’d be pretty freaked out by how brownish-purple she is. i was. i still am.

gotta run.

my best friend’s wife is pregnant with my husband’s sperm

yes it’s true. and i am coming out of semi-blog-retirement just to write tha title. and while i’m at it i might as well say a few other things on the topic. maybe in the interest of clarification. so yes my best friend, well i am not her best friend but she is my closest confidante by far and so that makes her, in my book, MY best friend. her wife, partner, girlfriend, woman, lady, better half, main squeeze whatever you want to call her is in fact pregnant. very, very pregnant. due in less than a month. and the sperm that she was inseminated with is that of my husband’s.

what’s more is that i had a dream last night about this situation. and so it’s got me thinkin’. in fact my mind is aswirl with thoughts like, “so does that make us family?” i mean we are planning for our kids to grow up knowing that the baby in question was created with their dad’s sperm. WE won’t call them half-siblings of course but somebody else might. and so does that make us family? technically?

it’s kind of a kooky situation although not as kooky as the summer of 2006 when the pregnant lady in question and i were BOTH trying to get pregnant with the same sperm. incidentally you can read their blog at dosmamas. they need some nicknames here. at once really. the blog is my friend’s and she calls herself charlotte. but i can’t call her that because for me that is the name of my baby who died at 23 weeks. hmm. i’ll get back to that later.

so in the dream last night their baby was born and she looked EXACTLY like my babykate. needless to say, that was freaky. i think we are all pretty hopeful that the baby will not come out looking a lot like Rocket Man or any of our kids. but our son resembles their son already and so maybe it won’t be such a big deal but still. the dream baby looked exactly like our daughter. then there was a weird conversation where my friend and i were discussing the virtues of naps. we were disagreeing about the importance of napping in the crib versus napping out and about. i was feeling disapproving of the plan to let the baby nap on the fly. yikes. hey it’s my subconscious talking there, dont blame me.

so the dream has got me thinking as i said. the babymamas have gracious and generously invited me to the birth. my friend, i will call her C., instead of charlotte until i think of something better, was with me when i delivered my charlotte and my babykate. i am HONORED to be invited. i’ve been thinking about whether or not i should go. after this dream, i think maybe not. thing is, i don’t want to feel an ESPECIALLY strong connection to this child. i know i’ll feel connected because she is their daughter and we are the best of friends. i dont know if i’ll feel connected because she was conceived using my husband’s sperm. i dont want to. being at the birth will likely increase my feelings of connection to her and i dont want to mix that up with the sperm donor thing. it’s complicated.

then i was also thinking about how Rocket Man will, technically, have another offspring. biological child, product of his sperm donation, offspring? whatever you want to call it. (what do you call it?) that’s kind of weird. i wonder what that feels like for him. maybe i’ll ask him if i can get a word in between interruptions from our kids and his 24/7 work demands. i am guessing it isn’t weird for him.

the whole situation has seemed strangely not strange. now it is hitting a little closer to home. likely because of the dream. which is likely because of the upcoming birth. my subconscious can’t be expected to differentiate between my husband being a sperm donor and my husband having another child with my best friend’s wife. NOBODY FREAK OUT. I DO NOT CONSIDER THEIR BABY TO BE HIS CHILD OR OUR CHILD OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT. NO WAY, NO HOW. i know what makes a parent a parent and it is NOT, NOT, NOT handing over a juice glass full of sperm (okay not FULL of sperm, of course not full.  he’s Rocket Man, not fucking Superman).  i’m just saying that my subconscious might be working some shit out in my dreams, possibly calling to my attention an event that i really haven’t given a whole lot of thought to. i mean i’ve thought about it but not as much as one might think.

now that i’ve dug myself into a semantic hole, what more can i say? it’ll be interesting. i always have this to fall back. when we were deciding to do this, Rocket Man said something that solidified our decision. he said something like, “i think of it as another way to experience life.” so when the kids are old enough to really understand the situation, we will have that statement to remind us what we were thinking. that and more importantly that our friends needed sperm, we had some good stuff, and we didn’t mind sharing. we know full well that being a parent is like i said not about handing over some jiz.

but being a biological parent? i guess time will tell what that is about. am i not supposed to say biological parent? we wont think of RM as a bio parent. he’s the sperm donor. bio parent is the term that is used for C.’s partner, S., right? but in order for me to really process the situation i need to be able to write in black and white that technically RM is the biological parent, biological father of this child. technically, he will have produced four children, offspring, whatever. (well 5 if we count charlotte, and 8 if we count my 2 miscarriages and S’s one.) four living children, offspring, whatever. but i can almost hear C. gasping. because he is the SPERM DONOR. that’s what he is. i know that. their baby is in no way RM’s child. except in the way of biology. the language of child, parent, father is all wrong. i know that too.

i think what is happening here is that i was surprisingly at ease with S’s pregnancy. the fact that RM’s sperm was used seemed to be a mere technicality. the impending birth guarantees that the situation is about to get more real. and so i’m processing. apparently.

can’t think of a title

wow, it’s been forever since i posted. trouble is, with posting that is, that i am feeling pretty good. generally angst is what prompts me to post. i think the zoloft is fully kicked in and at 37.5 i feel good. the veil lifted. it really did. sooo feeling good is not conducive to writing. nor is having three kids. i dont have much free time and posting isnt at the top of my list of what to do with that free time. reading blogs, yes. posting, not so much.

that’s not to say i dont have some good ones brewing. i could write volumes, okay maybe not, on the state of my marriage after my six pregnancies, two 11 week miscarriages, the big f*cking nightmare, the subsequent nightmare, two remodels, one move, three first years of a baby’s life, and rocketman’s hideously stressful job…. let’s just say we’ve been through some hard times and i am not sure that we remember how to function when we are not in crisis.

then there is the fact that we’ve had sex ONE time since we had babykate (i changed her nickname). i wasn’t even sober. and no times during the pregnancy. that’s like a year and a half people. can you f*cking believe that? high-risk pregnancy, newborn, still nursing alot, major lack of intimacy, and oh yeah PTSD and a major reluctance to involve my body in any activity that i might feel vulnerable about (sex, stirrups, even the dentist). yeahhhh so there’s a post there. understatement.

it’s only in the last few weeks that it feels possible to begin assessing the state of the relationship. it is kind of brutal. baby steps, right?

miscellaneous

just tore myself away from the deadbabyblogs. man oh man what brutal, heartbreaking losses. then there are the teeny micro-preemies that didn’t make it. and tiny simone at flotsam. you just have to be okay, simone. for your brilliant, strong mama. and for all of us.

lord, reading these blogs, it makes me want to go gather up babybear from her crib so i can feel the weight of her in my arms.

she is alive. she lived and she is alive. what an incredibly beautiful and sweet baby, i cant take my eyes off of her. what a blessing. her first tooth is starting to come through.  a tooth!

my baby is alive and she ate meatballs for dinner. meatballs! what a big girl. what more can i ask for? for once, nothing comes to mind.

my heart aches for the moms out there who are going to sleep tonight without their babies. the nighttimes are the worst. i wish you could wake up from the nightmare.

i cant wait for rosepetal to hold her baby boy safe in her arms.

5 minute update

i am afraid to turn on the tv and see what is happening in ohio and texas.  i am hopeful but not optimistic that obama’s streak will continue.  seems to me it’s time for a change.  but having said that, if hilary gets the nomination and wins, we’ll be a hell of a lot better off than we are today.  hell we’ll be better off with mccain.  good news is w.’s days are numbered.

9 months ago my baby arrived, redeeming my faith in the universe.  today… she is eating chicken.  chicken.  how time flies.  she’s a waving, clapping, barfing, chicken-eating, toe-sucking, 45 minute napping, bundle of cuteness.  she has been waving alot and even saying “bwah-bwah” (bye-bye).  its happened 4 or 5 times now and we are nearly ready to call it. her first word.  she’ll probably be three before she crawls (no signs yet whatsoever) but she’s working hard on talking.  that’s my girl.

careful what you ask for

i’ve been tagged by bri at unwellness. here are the rules:

1. Grab the nearest book of 123 pages or more.
2. Open it to page 123.
3. Find the first 5 sentences and write them down.
4. Then invite 5 friends to do the same.

Upstream in the mornings. Downstream in the evenings. And the dull, sullen sound of the boatmen’s bamboo poles as they thudded against the dark, oiled boatwood. It was warm, the water. Greygreen.

-The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy

okay so who should i tag this time? how ’bout delphi at eight million pieces, rosepetal at moksha, charmedgirl at a charmed life, becky at mommy wants vodka, and c. at my resurfacing.

i LOVED this book by the way. it takes place in india and is about an unforgettable pair of twins.

on another note, i was watching “the wire” last night, which i love not as much as the sopranos but enough to compare them, and was struck by this quote: “aint no shame in holdin’ on to grief as long as you make room for other things too.” i dont have much to say about it. it just struck me.

i am feeling pretty good these days. yesterday afternoon i was starting to get a little panicky because the weekend was ending, Rocket Man was leaving town for three days, the house was a pigsty, the grocery shopping hadn’t been done, the next day was monday, no meals had been planned. while the situation did definitely suck, it only really sucked on a superficial level. i didnt get all deeply upset, if that makes sense. babybear just woke up so i’m just going to throw this up there. she is so damn cute lately, by the way, that i finally understand why people say things like, “you are so friggin adorable thati just want to eat you.”

whats in a name?

girasole you are so right.  monstergirl was meant to be a temporary name while i was waiting for a better, gentler one to come along.  also it is meant as affectionately as monster could possibly be.  but you are right.  it’s not a good name.  i considered olivia, y’know the ahem swine who just has to try on EVERYTHING but the impact doesnt come across.  and there is the problem of olivia being a pig.  that seems worse than a monster.  i considered “indomitable force of nature” but its too clunky.  “balls of steel?”  too superhero’ish.  we called her “mad girl” when she was an infant.  not any better.  worse even.  damn she screamed ALL THE TIME.

i am open to suggestions.  i am thinking about “chip.”  she has a chipped tooth and what’s more relevant is that she is, you guessed it, a chip off the old block.  but it doesnt conjure up any images really except of a preppy in plaid shorts.  so that one is out.

by the way i really enjoy commenting back on your comments and i never know where to do that.  if i do it in the comments, then the commenter may never see it.  nobody will really see it there. so i’ll try doing it here.  then there opens up the possibility of a conversation of sorts.  when i ask a question in somebody’s comments, i do it as if they are actually going to answer.  which i know they wont.  so i’ll try this.

also if anybody wonders whether or not i know about apostrophes and other means of punctuating.  i do i just cant be bothered.  do we really need the ‘ in cant?  isnt it understood?  when i post in word  the punctuating happens for me.  but in wordpress i figure fuck it.  i dont type well and punctuation just slows me down.  and i know the difference between its and it’s.  i just dont care.

free pass tag

tagged again yikes.  this one is much harder.  free pass.  to have sex with a famous person.  my initial response is that i cant even think of anyone.  how pathetic is that?  actually adrien grenier from entourage came to mind but if the guy actually showed up on my doorstep, i’d slam the door in his face and run for my closet.  (interesting that i chose my closet it to hide in-that’s where babybear sleeps.)  how lame is that?  its just a hypothetical.  its just like me to overthink it.  even now i am thinking i cant come up with anybody that i wouldnt shy away from.  there couldnt be any free pass.  look what happened to demi moore and woody harrelson in indecent proposal.  and they got a million bucks out of the deal.   hmm.  okay i’ll try.

how ’bout robert redford twenty years ago?  okay maybe thirty years ago.  too blond?  i might consider an exception for him.  and adrien grenier?  could i change my clothes first?  and go to pilates three times a week for four months?  pierce brosnan?  maybe if he were a little grubby with is hair tousled at least.  first thing in the morning maybe.  but then again he is pretty smokin’ in a tuxedo.   would he have to see me naked?  okay maybe lying down in a flattering position.

isnt it horrifying how shitty i feel about my body? with clothes on, things are improving.  my gut is shrinking.  damn it took so long this time.  supposedly with each baby it gets harder to lose the weight.  and i was on my couch for FIVE MONTHS.  and its not like i was working out before then, amidst the terror of the first trimester.  the cellulite has spread down to my knees.  my ass is Frightening.

christ i cant even fantasize.  i may have hit a new low point here.  when i was supposed to hit my sexual prime?  maybe the zoloft is impacting my “libido.”  i dont like that word.  you’d think i’d be able to fantasize.  i think the famous hot guy factor is a limiting one.  hmm i should try my grade school gym teachers.  that always works.

i’m a jackass. like it hasn’t been said before?

okay so it was assy of me to throw that little fit about commenting.  i like the feedback okay?  i like the interaction.  i like knowing who is reading.  then i can check your blogs out.  my sitemeter wont show me referrals since i switched to wordpress and i miss being able to see where people are coming from.  i also LIKE your comments.  i like hearing people’s thoughts, experiences. you could never hijack this blog.  i like it.  i also put alot of thought into that 6 things tag and i was disappointed that there were lots of visitors but few comments.  yes i am self-absorbed.  yes i barely comment on the blogs i read.   and i had the nuts to bully AND guilt you guys into commenting.  yes i feel like an jackass.  but all of the above statements are sincere.

having said that, your comments were great.  i laughed, i nodded in commiseration, i pondered, i found new blogs to read, i felt shitty, deservedly, and like i should own up to my bullshit, and possibly most importantly i put the baby down earlier, at cristin’s suggestion, and she slept for two fucking hours!!!

i continue to encourage you all to just say whatever the fuck you are thinking when you read my shit.  if you dont want to or cant, i get that.  i barely comment because of lack of time and lack of the right words.  i am just encouraging you not to filter.  share that dissenting point-of-view by all means.  the uncomfortable place is where the growth is right?  for me this blogging thing isnt about having an audience, it’s about the interaction. christ enough already.

on another front, i did two days of zoloft at 50 and didnt like it one bit.  no can do.  my jaw was tight, reminiscent of experiences with ecstasy.  i felt speedy and kind of mildy whacked out.  i am going right back down to 25.  the psychiatrist said that i probably bottomed out on 25 because i actually need a higher dose.  in other words i felt good on 25 for a week or so then i felt like my old self again.  fuck it though.  i’ll take my old self over what i had today and yesterday.  there is also the nursing baby to think of.  maybe after a week or so i’ll try 37.5.

what the f*ck?

Fuckin’ a, why won’t my baby sleep? Seriously, she’s my third kid and i am still obsessed over sleep schedules or the lack thereof. What the fuck? Any advice on getting over whether or not one’s baby sleeps? Doesn’t she know that i had a shit morning? That began when SHE woke up at 5:30. Before that she was sleeping next to me looking adorable but occasionally pummeling me with insistent little fists. Or were those her feet? What fucking difference does it make? It kept me awake. I want her to sleep with us, occasionally, because I love the idea of it but in practice it really really sucks. She wakes up much earlier when she’s in our bed. Its hard to resist though after we fall asleep nursing.

After being kept awake by the baby, I was still struggling to sleep a bit more when monstergirl started screaming, for the second time. The first was at 5:30 when fortunately Rocket Man was up and he dealt with her. The second time, she woke up screaming for daddy and when nobody came she started throwing shit across her room. We used to call that waking up on the wrong side of the crib. Now I call it being an asshole. And I see the next 15 years of dealing with a temperamental female who wakes up in a shit mood and makes us all fucking miserable. Christ, she’s going to be a teenager someday. She acts like one already.

And so now the baby is still crying. She was down for about 20 freakin’ minutes. This after waking me up at 5:30. This after an entire week of my kids being out of school. For friggin’ “ski week” if you can believe that? An entire week of three kids all day, every day. With a total of two hours of TV time.  For the week.  (I’m not big on TV for kids but that’s another story).  It rained every day since Tuesday. Rocket Man was away for three days and then at a work dinner and then at a wine event and then at his Sunday basketball game. Like a fucking idiot I spent my babysitting time taking my older kids to the dentist and then shoe shopping on Wednesday and then out to a movie on Friday. It was to be monster’s first movie at a special showing of a classic kids movie so I took the kids and left the baby. But it was the wrong day, for the movie, so I couldn’t just walk them home and dump them with our nanny so we went out and about. It was kind of fun but I had zero down time in a long, shitty week of rain and little help.

Best of all is this. When I complained loudly to RM he suggested I go out to a movie yesterday. I informed him that I needed empathy and not problem-solving at that particular moment. But then, empathy or not, I DIDN’T FUCKING GO. What a complete idiot I am. The movie I wanted to see, The Savages, wasn’t playing close enough to our house and I didn’t know how the grocery shopping would get done without one of us to stay with at least one of the kids so I didn’t go. whatever.

I got the chance to get the fuck out of my house and see a MATINEE and I didnt do it. This kind of thing has happened to me before. It’s the real trap of motherhood. You get a chance to go out and do something on your own, for yourself, and you don’t take it. For whatever stupid reason. It used to be that I didn’t want to give up our “family time.” That’s a good one. Yesterday I didn’t want to drive too far to an undesirable theatre. What bullshit. It’s like you open the door for a caged animal and it takes a look outside, sniffs the air, turns around and lays back down in its spot.

As it was I ended up taking three kids out in the rain for a walk. Legoboy put his hands in a puddle, very uncharacteristically, then got all upset that there were then “sandy.” I wouldnt let him clean them off on MY pants so he got more upset. Jesus Christ. Once he finished with that bullshit, monster took her turn wigging because her tights were wet. Because she jumped into a huge puddle. She then took off her slicker, sat down on the sidewalk, in a handknit white smocky top/dress no less, and refused to walk any further. I stood a ways away from her and refused to go get her, while I drank from the beer that I brought with me. Then I screamed. Or yelled actually. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

I don’t usually go in for that kind of thing. I’ll do hand screams on occasion but out loud? In the street? It felt good. The kids actually laughed. “Do that again mama.” Nice.

Then I brought their pathetic asses home and deposited them in the garage for dad to grapple with and took babybear back out. I then had a perfectly nice walk in the rain.

Babybear is still crying. I just don’t get it. She was up at 5:30. I put her down at 9. Shouldn’t she be tired? God I HATE the sleep stress.

So anyway this morning I made an impromptu decision to go up to 50 mg of Zoloft. I cant deal with all of this without an appropriate level of serotonin. NFW.

And what the fuck is up with all the visits to my last post but three measly comments? If you are going to stop by, just say something already. Don’t FILTER it, just say it. That’s what I do. It’s no fun if there’s no interaction here folks. Is this not a two way street? I’ve never liked that about blogging.