It’s been a long time.  One month, to be exact.  I have not wanted to post of late, I have turned inward a bit.  Or at least many things going through my head these days are not ready for sharing…but… 

We have not sent out our holiday cards yet.  I made them in December, and they will get out, but when I made them I had a frightening realization.  We had almost no pictures from the past twelve months of the Big H and me.  Nothing showing where we’d been or what we’d done.  In 2007, we did a very poor job of recording our life.  I have had a vivid sense of mortality and aging lately for some reason, and of course, I freaked out when I realized I had let so much time pass without marking the occasions. 

Similarly, I realized today this time of pregnancy is nearly over and there are things about it I will want to remember.  Experiences, feelings and sensations that have rolled into the last 36 weeks…and I had not written those down either.  One thing I know is that children are always curious about their parents before they were born.  I am curious what my mother’s pregnancies were like, I wonder what my dad was like when he was 20, I wish I could travel through time and see them at parties and dinners and church and just simply at home…all before I was around, or too young to remember.  And that is why I need to take more pictures, to write more, to record more, to somehow make it last…even after I am gone someday.  I gave my father a recorder last year for Christmas and asked him to please use it to tell stories, record memories, talk about anything that might be lost when he is well, gone.  My mother needs to do the same thing.  The memories do not have to be big grand life lessons or anything earth shattering – just moments, little things, favorite dishes, where granddad worked and when he came home at night what did he drink, what it was like to live in a foreign country, their favorite outfits as kids.  Small stuff makes up the big stuff.

I do not mean to be morbid.  But time passes and memories are lost. 

So along those lines, a few things I would like to remember later in life, and/or be able to pass along about the last 36 weeks, with a few other random memories sprinkled in…mostly directed to the Pending Bean…

  • I had irritating but manageable nausea in the first trimester (always good to start memories you might pass along to your kids with how they made you sick)
  • I was tired, but functional
  • I felt like a rock star during the second trimester
  • I had no cravings, only aversions.  I could not even be around french fries for a while (the horror!)
  • I carry forward, as they say.
  • Everyone thinks you are a boy.  I think you are a girl.  One day your father thinks you are a boy, then he thinks you are a girl.  Neither of us cares which you are, we just want you to be happy and healthy.
  • We were nervous but not petrified to have you.
  • We had no home for much of the pregnancy, and then we moved, and created a place for you.
  • In the third trimester my feet swelled.  All of a sudden, I was limited to sneakers.  I had to wear medical socks.  I had Shrek Feet.
  • When you move and kick, it feels almost the same as sitting in a massage chair…though not quite as good.  But it’s as if you are kneeding or rolling from one side of me to the other.
  • I am amazed and thrilled that I truly sense there are many many people – friends and family – who are genuinely excited for your arrival.
  • People keep asking me if I am going back to work.  This is, I suppose, a natural question but always strikes me as odd.  I love my job and have not even come close to doing everything I want to do in this industry.
  • I do not want you to show up until at least week 38 (I am now at 36).  I have several loose ends at work I am trying to tie up.  I am avoiding spicy foods for this very reason – no reason to induce!  Let’s see if you listen to my wish or will we start off with you asserting your independence.

On other notes:

  • I was not nervous at the end of the aisle.  I was thrilled.
  • We love Brooklyn and are not sure why we did not move there earlier.  But that said, we loved every second of The Manhattan Years, so there we go.
  • I am horrified by how much faith and religious talk has entered our political dialog in this 2008 Presidential campaign.
  • Your father is an amazing handyman.  Who would have thought from a guy who also has a taste for L’Occitane and Fresh and other froofy things.
  • I feel younger at 35 than I thought I would.  In some ways this is good, in other ways it’s daunting.  Focus on the good.
  • I loved visiting my father’s parents in Ohio because they built me a swing set.  And we always drank orange juice out of small frosted glasses.
  • My sister and I used to search for our Christmas presents and unwrap them before they could make it under the tree.  We were bad kids.  My parents never held it against us.

There’s more.  Much more.  This is a good start.