Hello there

Writing to you now makes you a little more real. You are there in me, right? Can you hear my thoughts?
Nausea, tiredness, restless nights, and extreme gas pains. All the glories of being pregnant. All the joyful glories, and I'm not being sarcastic. Being at so early a stage, there's little for me to tell how you are doing, except for these discomforts that come with being pregnant. So, any symptom, big or small, as uncomfortable as it makes me, is welcomed, and I suffer through them gladly.
You should be about a couple of days shy of seven weeks along. Perhaps the size of a grain of rice? Just the size of a grain of rice, but it seems like I've grown already. My belly bulges out a bit, just under my bellybutton, where the womb should be. The little bulge may be invisible to others, but knowing my body, I'm quite certain of its existence, of your existence. How are you doing in there? Are you getting enough nutrient? Am I rested enough for you? Have I prepared a nice enough environment for you to be in? I must confess that I have not really thought of you as a baby much, mostly out of the fear of losing you. I am also less obsessed about being pregnant. This time, I didn't hover on pregnancy boards, didn't even dare start a pregnancy counter until today. This time, I'm also much more patient and able to hold you as a secret. As if keeping the secret close to my heart would help you stay and grow and claim your place in the world. As if by keeping you a secret, I'll be able to keep us both strong and ward off, as Chinese saying goes, jealously from heaven and ill luck. When I was carrying your sister, I counted days and felt like each day dragged by. With you, though I'm still counting days, it's mostly to track how time has progressed, and am just content to go one more day with everything seemingly happening as it should.
Dear one, with your sister to distract you and my school work hovering over my shoulders, I might not be able to devote all my thoughts to you, but know that you are constantly on my mind, like a little seed that's been planted deep in my heart.

Staying pregnant

I took the last pregnancy test a few days ago. With the positive line bold, bright, and even more prominent than the default line, I've left it on the bathroom counter like a good talisman. I stare at the brash positive line, and found myself thinking of it as a good omen, or even a protection that would ward of ill fortunes. I feel like I could slay dragons and fend off monsters wielding this short, white, plastic stick with a window showing two obvious lines as sword. All I need now is for lines to remain strong and true.

The appearance of the second line.

Valentine's day morning, after days of internal debate on whether I should wait an extra day or not, I did the test while the little girl played on the bath mat. As the test area dampens and the default line appears, a second line so very slowly materialized. A faint but unmistakable second line. Needing a bit more confirmation, I directed the little girl's attention to the stick, "look honey, can you count how many lines there are?" "One, two, three, four, five, six..." she counted on, not surprisingly, and made me smile.

It's been a few more days and two more positive tests since then, but I've only allowed myself to be very cautiously optimistic about it. I'm still carefully examining everything my body is feeling or going through, and constantly update my mental scoreboard of good and bad symptoms. Pimples? Negative one. Funky feeling in legs? Negative one. Lack of appetite? Could happen in both cases, a wash out. The problem is, how can you score the absence of something if it could occur at any point of time to dash every bit of hope?

Last time, I let myself to be overly confident of things to come. I believed that everything in life would unfold as I wanted it to, and was reminded of how little control I have over life. This time, I'll wait some more before I start to celebrate.

Please

It's like an unspeakable itch that can't be fully scratched, this desire for a second child.
Like a a broken faucet drip-dropping in the back of my head but cannot be stopped.
Everywhere I look, there are either family with multiple children closely set in age, or a pregnant mom with a belly big and round in front and a toddler no older than my own following her.
When I had the false positive a while back, it was not a sense of excitement that went through me, but a serenity. I was fulfilled. A missing piece was found. I was whole. I was content. I could let go of my baby making obsession. Everything was as it should be. Yes, the house still needs cleaning, work still needs to be done, and the laundry that's been sitting in the baskets since Sunday still needs to be folded. But, a second child was coming, and the world was all right.
The sense of completeness went down the toilet, figuratively and in actuality within two weeks.
Here I am, again, tilted. Weighed to the side by the burning want to bear a sister/brother for my oldest.
Calendars were consulted. Actions were taken. Omens were sought. If only it would happen.

Mother's day and motherhood

As we stepped into the ice cream shop after our long walk on the trail, I noticed the little sign plastered on the counter. "Mother's Eat Free" it says, and with a jolt, I realized that includes me.

Now this is silly, for I embraced motherhood the minute I was allowed onto its golden path. It was my dream come true, and I never gave a second thought when referring to myself as mommy when talking to and caring for my little one. But somehow, I must have thought of being a mom a special treat, and I only get to play one in certain places among certain people, like at home or in the mothers group that I go to, but not necessarily among strangers in the outside world. Then, as I stood in the busy ice cream parlor where other moms, confident and sure of what they are doing, herded kids in and out, I was recognized as a mom, too, at the counter by people who don't know me, and offered the free serving. Holding the ice cream cup, I felt like I was given a badge of honor, was told that yes, my membership is valid, and I am not only allowed in the sacred club, but can will stay a member throughout my life time. I, am a mother. And I, get to eat free ice cream on mother's day. How cool is that?

Saturday morning before Mother's day

I forgot that it's commencement at the College today. No wonder the Library is closed this morning. There's a wind pipe going. Are we a Scotish school? Lights are all dimmed except for the hall ways that I need to walk through. There were talks about the Library being haunted by the spirit of a sister. I am not going to think about that. I will focus on the bright blue sky and the lush green leaves of the maple tree right outside my window instead.

I am not in work mode. Found a bit of Macro code that I could use for an Excel sheet, applied that to my file, felt greatly accomplished, and am ready for a nap. Can't help it, little girl woke at 5:17am for some milk and play time. I was supposed to operate in silence, avoid eye contact, and put her down to bed with minimal interaction with her so she'd know it's not time to get up yet. But how could I not smile back and respond to her when she flashes the big, toothless smile at me that bespoke how glade she was to see me? So instead of crawling back in bed for some more needed rest, I read stories, changed diapers (two, she wet one and pooped in the other), pumped milk, and dozed a tiny bit while feeding her one more time before she fell asleep again. And now I'm at work. My eyes feel half their normal size, and my brain cries that it wants me to go sit under the big maple tree, gaze up at the swaying leaves under the bright blue sky and think of nothing. No, can't think of nothing, there is always my little girl to think of. That's what being a mother is like to me. My head my heart is always filled with the image of my little girl, the smell of her scent, the feel of her weight in my arms, and the warmth of her skin against mine. Maybe she's taking a nap now, and the sight of her sleeping angelically in her swing with her arms resting on her thighs comes to mind. Maybe she's playing with her daddy, and the sound of her cooing and images of her waving her small hands, exploring stuffed animals with her delicate fingers while her legs kicked strongly fill my head.

It is almost exactly one year since the pregnancy test showed positive of her. I remembered how I climbed back to bed to share the news with her daddy, and afterwards, we lay there in silence, both awashed in waves of emotion. I trembled as a quiet joy swelled in and filled my heart, as the realization of the tremendous responsibility of motherhood that I would soon take on dawned on me, as excitement and nervousness warred themselves into silly giddiness. And then, my belly started showing. And then, the baby started kicking. And then, we were in the hospital and this tiny little person came out of me and she looked at us and ate from my breast and I became a bona fide mommy. Never would I have imagined how beautiful our little girl is, how wonderful she makes life, and how amazing caring for her and watching her grow can be. I've always wanted to be a mother, and I didn't even know how great being a mother truly is.

Day after mother's day last year, she let us know of her existence. I've been thankful for it ever since. I don't need mother's day to celebrate motherhood. Being a mother is rewarding enough in itself. Sure I'm sleep deprived so much so that I couldn't think straight most of the times, and my memory has gaps as big as teathing rings; sure my hair is always a mess and chances are I smell like spit-up; sure the house is in disarray and the number of things that need organizing is too great to even start a list for them; but the little girl makes it all worth while. She makes it mother's day every day.

A mother's grief

A mother's grief over a lost child is one of the most difficult scenes to witness. A co-worker's husband came to the office this morning bearing the harrowing news that their youngest son passed away. Even though their son was already 40, to her, he was still her baby. "What are we going to do?" she asked her husband. He could only wordlessly answer her with a fierce hug. As friends, colleagues, and by-standers, the rest of us in the office were rendered helpless. Any words we utter and gestures we offer in a lame attempt to comfort her slid off her deep sadness like raindrops on a duck's back. How could you comfort a mother who just lost a child? We stood or sat helplessly as we watch her being washed over by sorrow, and shed our own tears silently with her.

I know death is an integral part of life. I've experienced lost of family myself. But as I grow older, fell and stayed in love, and now becoming a mother, I find myself fearing death more than ever. The deeper I love, the more I intertwine my existence with the ones I love, and the more vulnerable I become to the concept of death. The idea of losing someone that is a part of me, that is what makes my life full of meaning is unbearable. I know no one could avoid death, but that knowledge does not lessen my fear of it.

Someone told me "whatever God deals you, He knows you can handle." I believe that's true. I believe that every one has some secret strength stashed in them, only to be used in emergency situations. But sometimes... sometimes, I am not that sure anymore.

Pregnancy Weight

After a long time abstaining from scales, we finally brought one home to keep track of my pregnancy weight gain.
I have a very complicated relationship with weight and food. Once held in the throes of eating disorder, I panic at the thought of loosing control again. The tug-a-war between addiction and life that I struggled for years before I finally won was such a dark place; I wish no one would ever need to visit it. It was years before I finally regained control over my appetite, healthy eating, and my body's recognition of hunger and being full. And those years were a stream of hopeless days and heavy sorrows. I shudder at the possibility of ever visiting them again.
Now, as the baby grows in me, so does my appetite and cravings, which I sense with apprehension. It was the cravings that did me in years ago. It might be cravings for all the wrong reasons, but cravings nonetheless. And now the awakening of this familiar feeling scares me.
So far, I've been able to eat sensibly; but that is a conscious act that I need to keep up with. Pregnancy would not be an excuse for indulgence for me. Indulging may lead to slipping, and slipping leads back to binging and purging. Yes, I will be eating for two, but that will be eating healthy for two, and only as close to the recommended amount as I can, thank you very much. Yes, I am ready for the weight gain, but I am wary of it going out of my control.
Dealing with the appetite and weight gain is the biggest challenge that pregnancy has offered me so far. As every experience is new, I don't know how my body would change during the process. I have no idea what would happen next, and what I should prepare for. Unknowing makes the changes scarier. But I will deal. For the little one, I'll manage.
Now, speaking of the little one, when are you finally going to let mommy's belly pop out instead of just being plain thick? When are you going to let mommy finally feel really pregnant? When will you reward mommy with a tiny kick or a little fluttery sense from your movement? If mommy can feel you more, I'd be able to assure myself that it is all happening for you, and be less worried. I can’t wait for the day when I can feel you more.

Being pregnant

Pregnancy is a curious process to go through. From the moment of the conception, my body is still mine, but no longer mine, either; it has become the home of a baby. Whatever I eat is not only for me, but also to provide for this tiny human being. Whatever moves I do with my body, not only concerns me, but also with the little tenant within me. I, am officially more than me. I know human beings, Homo sapiens, are a kind of animal, no different than the ones we'd find caged in a zoo or running in the wild, but pregnancy made me feel closer to my animal root ever. It makes me feel primal to be really going through the most fundamental stage of life's cycle. To create, to nurse, to protect, to nurture. I imagine tiny veins in my body grow, branch, intertwine, and weave, to form the tiny limbs and bodies of my baby (my baby! Our baby!). Sometimes I imagine the baby as the fetus developing in Discovery Channel health shows. But sometimes, when my body twitches and tingles with unfamiliar feelings, I feel more akin to being the host of a foreign thing, like in the movies Alien, or Species. I think the feeling of carrying an alien might only grow as the pregnancy progresses; when the baby can twist and turn to change the shape of my belly. Soon enough, I'll look ready to explode. We'll see what that'll make me feel.

Starting New

It's time to start anew. Of course it is, now that the new edition of the family is baking in my womb, everything takes on a new perspective. A new baby, a little extra heart beating in me; new responsibilities, new roles to play.
Now that we've heard the heartbeat, now that I can feel my womb firmly under my belly button, I'm finally allowing myself to feel more certain of the future, to take the baby's existence as a solid fact, not just a fragile dream that needs to be guarded in order for it to come true.
But can it really be that I am going to become a mother in a few months time? How can I? I'm still afraid to stay home by myself at night. I still feel like I'm stumbling through life searching for a direction. I still know so little about the world. There are so many things that I am unsure of. Yet soon, there will be a little person who would look up at me, trust me, and rely on me to guide him/her through life. Am I capable enough to lead him/her? Am I strong enough to protect him/her?
Is this what my mother was feeling? When I looked up at her with affection and complete confidence through my new born eyes, was she also scared and nervous? Now I think I can understand what it meant when she told me she approached motherhood with trepidation instead of excitement. She was a year younger than I am now when she had me, and she didn't have my father beside her to deal with such a drastic change in their lives. The worries that must have been going through her mind. I've always know that it was difficult for her, but I don't think I fully understand the scale of what she must be going through until now. With a child in me, going through a pregnancy of my own, I found myself seeing my mother from a new angle: I'm getting to know her again as but a fellow woman, a companion who has gone through similar emotions and share similar experiences. I can see her fears and worries more clearly now; as much as I already understand her, I am knowing her even better. We've came a full circle, and now I'm at the point of life where she was at when I first know her, a woman becoming a mother.
I know my mother was not perfect, but she provided me more than enough to go on with life. I know I am not perfect, and I hope I will be able to do as much for my child as my mother has done for me.