like grown-ups

Yesterday we found out the approximate cost of a c-section. There were smelling salts and cold cloths involved. Holy mackerel. Thank goodness for insurance, but even then? ASTOUNDING.

This was one of the blips in a rocky sort of day. I had a series of unpleasant conversations with my least favorite patient coordinator (let’s call her Ruby) at my OB’s office. Dear Ruby doesn’t like her job. Either that, or she likes it (and the POWER involved) a little too much. Not the most welcoming person, and I had the opportunity to speak to her three times in a single day! (Incidentally, I found out today that Ruby, dearest peach, only passed on one of my messages... and never told anyone that I called back. SWEET!)

After the rockiness, Chip picked me up to head home. This isn’t a common occurrence, since usually I take the bus – but because of the holiday bus schedule, I knew I’d miss the last bus out of the city. We had some good time to talk in the car and share our feelings about what’s been going on. There has been a lot of, um, STUFF. As you can imagine. Tears are very close to the surface. Tears of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of gratefulness, tears of frustration, tears of exhaustion, tears of every rainbow color and shape.

On the way home we stopped at the store for the Very Best Granola in the World (okay – maybe it’s not quite called that, but it’s close). It’s sold in those bulk bins and I can never seem to get enough. I haven’t had this granola in eons because I didn’t even realize we had a purveyor of the stuff in our neighborhood. But we DO and so we DID (buy the granola). Coming in from the parking lot, Chip looked at me and at our clasped hands and said, “We’re so grown up. Look at us. Dressed in dressy work clothes. Holding hands. Walking into the store to buy granola.”

These are the moments I want to fix in my memory. These are the moments that protect us in times of strife. These are the moments that quietly come and just as quietly fade—only leaving an impression if we notice them enough to ask them to stay just a second longer, to fix them into our memory with so much tape and glue.

It would never make sense to anyone but us that our favorite time is when we're wearing our dressy work clothes and we're walking hand in hand through the grocery store parking lot at 7pm to buy granola.

101

That crazy nonsense writing piece from Thursday? THAT was my 100th post. I had hoped I would put something together that was, um, a little more TOGETHER, you know? Oh well. As I've found myself (BARF) saying a lot these days: it is what it is.

What the heck IS that? It IS what it IS? Does that even make grammatical sense? I think it's our new-fangled way of saying that life isn't simple or easy, that whatever lies in front of us is the thing we have right now and we might make something of it, we might make nothing of it. It is our own doing regardless. I'm guessing it's the adult version of "You get what you get and you don't throw a fit". There's a certain fatalistic bent to IT IS WHAT IT IS that makes me feel unsteady. Like I'm accepting a less than stellar situation because I'm too tired to change it.

I guess I can't go back and post a different #100 - but I'm doing a darn fine job of making #101 STELLAR, don't you think???

This is what I get for coming in here with nothing on my mind other than the thousand things that are bouncing around in my noggin like so many ping pong balls. And you've already heard about those at least a bajillion times already.

Happy #101, my dears. May #102 find us all in a more focused frame of mind.

run-on

That pesky perspective thing just keeps biting me, and I've got to just give in to it: I GET IT. THERE ARE THINGS THAT ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE LESS THAN SAVORY STATE OF ORGANIZATION IN MY KITCHEN CABINETS.

I spent 25 minutes listening to a woman SCREAM at me about the fact that she bought a whoozit that didn't match the pair of whatzits she also bought back in December and she couldn't believe that no one told her they didn't match exactly and by the way THIS IS THE END OF THE WORLD. (I would have put that whole paragraph in CAPS if I had the energy, but I didn't want to pass on the ANGRY because really, it needs to stop somewhere and I'm choosing me.)

This lady? Screaming bloody murder lady? She puts things in perspective. When she's all WHAT IS THIS COUNTRY COMING TO about a whatzit? It's just so asinine as to be HYSTERICAL.

So I'm taking back the night, so to speak, and am gosh darn it going to be FINE with things. Fine. Also - how can I not be fine when I have amazing readers like you?

There is a list running around in my head of The Good of Today and I've got to share because maybe it'll make you smile too, even though it's really an all-about-me list.

Here we go:
- The assistant manager at our on-site catering company came by and gave me a lemon sour cherry coffeecake from Macrina bakery today. Just because.
- The manager of the cafeterias and the catering company in our building bought me lunch today. Just because. (I'm thinking I must've looked particularly pathetic yesterday for both the manager and the assistant manager to do something so sweet - then again, they're really really KIND people.)
- My mom called today to tell me how excited she is to come and help after Bean is born. We can drive each other a bit crazy sometimes, but I do love this woman to death, and she makes the most AMAZING chocolate chip cookies and homemade bread and jam - and maybe maybe maybe we can entice her to do some baking while she's here... oh it will be heaven.
- Mom's major point about helping after a baby is born is to come and help with the laundry and the cleaning and the cooking and leave good baby-bonding time to me and Chip. This is MY KIND OF WOMAN.
- Chip & I had the most wonderful time with his mom at our house last night. It was really, really good.
- Bean received some amazingly generous gifts today from some of the people I work with in my building, as well as a group of folks from Oregon.
- Chip's sister G is also coming to help after Bean is born. She's amazingly capable and very selfless.
- Last, but certainly not least: THE WIFE IS COMING TO VISIT HERE IN 7 DAYS AND I'M SO EXCITED I CAN HARDLY STAND IT. I can't even promise coherent posts while she's here. Maybe some photos with partial captions like "us laughing". There might be a lot of those.

facing the breach

Or breech, as the case may be (and is).

The American Heritage Dictionary defines breach as "1a. An opening, a tear, or a rupture; b. A gap or rift, especially in or as if in a solid structure such as a dike or fortification. 2. A violation or infraction, as of a law, a legal obligation, or a promise."

Our friends at American Heritage define breech as "1. The lower rear portion of the human trunk; the buttocks. 2a. A breech presentation or delivery; 2b. A fetus in breech presentation."

I definitely find irony in all of this. I'm trying to find the humor. Give me a bit of time, I'll see what I can come up with.

For now, I feel as though the last months have torn me open, made a hole in my solid structure. I have always believed that pain and loss and trouble break us into pieces - and it's what we build with these pieces that tell the story of our life.

What does it mean that wee baby Bean is breech? In the medical sense, it means I'll be having a c-section in two and a half weeks. It means that I'll be in the hospital for 2 days instead of 1. It means that we'll face the arduous recovery from major abdonimal surgery that I had so wanted to avoid. In the ephemeral, spiritual, emotional sense, her being breech-- I'm still not sure what it means. I had so wanted her to be the one to cross the physical divide in hard labor. I had wanted to feel her body dig into mine, a physical passage for both of us into the mother/daughter relationship that we've begun. I wanted to feel her enter the world through a doorway only I could provide. I worry that the Bean is in breech postion because she is afraid to enter the world head-first, with her eyes open - that I've been too tightly wound to give her confidence in this earthly realm.

I know how selfish all of this sounds. There is nothing wrong with c-section, I know. We have so much to be thankful for in modern medicine - the fact that Bean is healthy and safe (and just wants to see the world from the easy chair of my uterus); the fact that I'm healthy and safe. The fact that the whole procedure will be done in an excellent hospital - and at least we know now, at least we can prepare, at least I don't have to go through painful labor only to have the c-section at the last minute. I am grateful. Chip is grateful.

But I'm also a little sad for the scenario that was, the scenario that won't be. I'm a little sad to not have the option. In the meantime, my dears, we'll be doing everything we can to flip this little topsy turvy girl into the right position. (I have a feeling we're going to find a good dose of HUMOR in these attempts.)

We face these things, these troubles, as they come. We do our best to be strong. We do our best to have PERSPECTIVE, to place things in their right order of importance. To not focus on one thing more than it's size would warrent. It's just... sometimes this little structure feels like I've just started rebuilding only to lose a few more vital pieces.

sunday night, 6:30 p.m.

Chip wakes up as I walk into the bedroom.
Chip: How long have I been asleep?
Me: I don't know - probably half an hour. Were you still awake when I called my mom?
Chip: Yeah, I fell asleep right after I called your mom.
Me: Um, honey, you mean after I called my mom?
Chip: Yes, after I called your mom, I fell asleep.
Me: Let's try this again. I called my mom and talked to her. You were sleeping.
Chip: Exactly. I called your mom and then I fell asleep.
Me: Sweetie, you never spoke to my mom.
Chip: ......Oh. Yes. I see.

And not to let you think that he's the only one losing his marbles: later, we were getting situated in bed and I moved the remote three times. Each time poor Chip placed the remote within easy grasp, I would pick it up and put it at the foot of the bed. FOR NO REASON WHATSOEVER. I didn't even realize I was doing it until the third time, when Chip started to laugh.

We are tired, yo.