peeing on a stick for the LAST time

I woke up this morning convinced I was pregnant.  At some point upon awakening, I realized I was 5 days late.  And absolutely terrified.  During the recent trip to Baytown I had decided definitively that I did not want another child.   Chris had been pretty resolute on the subject, but I was still on the fence.  I kept feeling like we should have another child “just in case”.  Just in case something happened to Izzy, we needed an extra kidney, she became a crackhead, Republican or left home at 18 to become an actress in L.A.  Chris did not feel like this was reasonable cause to bring another human into this world, and after a week spent with 4 children, I came to agree with him.  So when I awoke with the knowledge that I was absolutely pregnant, I became a mess.

Suddenly all signs pointed to pregnancy (any woman who’s experienced this fear knows exactly where I’m coming from).  My overeating.  My crankiness.  The horrible luck we’ve had since June 1^st.  Of course I was pregnant.  Of fricken course.  I started thinking of my options.  As my mother has told me since the ripe age of 13, I had 3 options.  1.) Give birth and love that “bundle of joy”, while watching your dreams become even harder to attain; 2.)  Give that “bundle of joy” up for adoption and always wonder what happened; or 3.)  Kill that “bundle of joy” (those were never my mom’s exact words, she’s pro-choice afterall, but option 3 always resulted in a far longer explanation than I’m willing to go into at this time.) 

The first option was the most acceptable, of course, but also the most terrifying (especially since I realized if we couldn’t afford a pregnancy test, we probably couldn’t afford a pregnancy).  I immediately decided that I couldn’t give my child up.  After 9 months of dealing with it, you do become somewhat attached.  That left abortion.  I’m a supporter and all, but I’m also a 33 year-old married woman, not doing that bad in life.  It seemed a bit irresponsible.  I mean, it’s not like I have any life goals I’m trying to achieve that a child would keep me from.  Besides Europe.  And of course, that’s the first thing I thought when I realized I was pregnant.  “There goes my damn trip to Europe.  Again.  Mother fucker…”

So I worried and I stressed all day.  I’d go back and forth thinking, “no way I can have this child, I need to get to Europe before the Earth is destroyed in 2012.”  And then Izzy would be all cute and kissy and I’d think, “how in the world could I NOT bring another beautiful, genius child into the world.  We have great genes, obviously.”  I was on this ledge when Chris got home from work.

Now here was my original plan:  Father’s Day is on Sunday.  We’re broke and I thought this pregnancy scare would totally solve the gift problem.  I’d take a pregnancy test, and no matter what the outcome, I’d gift it to Chris.  “Surprise!!” Either way, right?  But we are too close and that always ruins surprises between us.  He was home for a total of 5 minutes before I blurted out, “I’m 5 days late.”  And within 7 minutes he was out the door on the way to Walgreens.  He was home 10 minutes later with a pregnancy test (I have an extra if anyone should need one…) 

While peeing on a stick I made several deals with God.  1.) If I’m not pregnant, I’ll become a better mother.  I’ll try harder.  I’ll control my frustrations better.  2.) If I’m not pregnant, I will immediately make an appointment for Chris to take care of this problem, once and for all.  (He’s a good guy like that.);  and 3.)  If I’m not pregnant, I will go to Europe next year come hell or high water.  I realized my deal with God was rather selfish, and I didn’t really offer Her much out of the deal, but I’m past the point of trying to pull things over on Her.

I immediately saw that the test was going to go in my favor (it rarely takes the full 2 minutes).  But because I’m not the nicest person in the world, I decided to let Chris sit on it for a little longer.  It was probably 8 or 9 minutes before I let him in on it.  I thought during that time we might have some serious talk on “what if’s”, but he seemed pretty unphased by the whole thing, so I let it go.  When met with the news of the test, I believe his words were “okay.”  (As if we didn’t already know he’s a man of few words.)

As it turns out, I’m not pregnant and I will be calling a doctor for Chris tomorrow (today as most read this).  I am relieved in a way that only a woman truly knows.  Europe is still on the books for next year and Izzy has the opportunity to grow up as a spoiled only child.  Life is good, hopefully our luck has turned and there’s going to be one less Dawson in the world (for which I’m sure many will be grateful.)  And seriously, if anyone needs a pregnancy test, tell them to call me.  Because I guarantee I will not be peeing on a stick again.

on Mother's Day

It is not at all unusual to hear me talking about how motherhood sucks.  I don't think it sucks for me any worse than any other mother, but motherhood hit me at a time when Mom's were constantly parading their happiness and perfect little kids about, and like most other choices I've made, I took the road less travelled (the one where Mom's were being honest about things like painful breastfeeding, sleep deprivation, a loss of identity, television addiction and Postpartum Depression).

But today, because I slept late, woke up to the smell of bacon and a beautiful daughter yelling "happy mother's day!", I'd like to write about the other sides of motherhood.  I must admit, I'm honestly at a loss for words when it comes to the joy.  Not because I don't experience it, but because I'm obviously more articulate with bitching than appreciation.  But I'm going to give it a go anyhow.

First, I need to take a second to thank God (and Chris' sperm) for giving me a girl.  I have no idea what I would have done with a boy.  The honor of raising a strong, thoughtful and responsible young woman is not at all lost on me.  I look forward to everything that has to offer (the joys AND the frustrations).  But for now, she's just our little Izzy.  Our little Izzy who loves ants and spiders and doodle bugs.  Who loves going bye-bye, eating M&M's for dinner (when Dad isn't around, of course) and having a grown man named Eric as a best friend.  Our Iz, who loves singing, dancing and playing with PuppetShow (her name for a Sonic the Hedgehog stuffed animal).  God graced me with the most beautiful, funny and feisty kid possible, because He obviously knew this motherhood thing was going to be tougher than I imagined.  

Motherhood is pure joy.  Don't get me wrong, it's also pure frustration, pure insanity and pure heartbreak.  But first and foremost, it's joy.  It's a joy that is not easily explained by a cynical amateur writer, because it is so overwhelming and heartfilling.

I used to laugh at my own Mom because she was a "crier".  Sad movies, news reports, articles of heartbreak would send my Mom down the river of tears.  I'd constantly tell her to "toughen up, that's the way the world is."  But since giving birth, I am now a "crier" as well.  Grey's Anatomy kills me every f'n week.  I recently realized why that is.  Motherhood opens you up.  It opens your heart in a way that is unexplainable to others.  You cannot be a good mother and keep your guard.  You have to feel.  You have to be empathetic and sympathetic.  It's essential to motherhood.  And it's hard to turn that off at the end of the day, so you end up crying at reports of other hurt children, dying parents, loves lost or whatever else Shonda Rhimes might throw at you for the week.  And while crying absolutely drives me nuts, I'm starting to accept that it's a side-effect of good mothering.  It represents an open heart.

I recently read an article on why mother's deserve a day.  And it's true, we deserve breakfast in bed, clean houses, cards and flowers.  But the truth is, if you are practicing conscious mothering, the payoff is there every single day.  The joy of watching your child see their first doodle bug, discover how "very, very pretty" night is, or feeling things in a way you've never felt them before.  Motherhood has the power to transform you into a better woman.  Stronger, smarter and more capable of love than anything else in this world.

Keeping on...

I've wanted to start posting a few of my favorite things online and since this is my most favorite thing right now, I thought I'd start with it.  It's been a hot topic between me and the girls for quite some time and now that I've used it for the second month I am loving it more and more.

It's called The Keeper.  It's a feminine hygiene cup that is better for both you and the environment.  I won't get into the details because I know there are guys reading this that are holding their heads in their hands saying "whyyy?  whyyy?"  But for the life of me I don't know why it isn't more popular.  Once you get the hang of it, it's genius!

So please ladies, check it out.  If you decide to try it, feel free to send me any questions.  It's different and there are definitely some tips and tricks involved.  I was lucky to have a small support group that helped me get started and answer whatever questions I had.  For those of you living in Austin, it's available at Ecowise for the same price you'd pay if you had to order it online with shipping.