If you go to the top of my home page, you’ll see a page about my book. The book I’m supposed to be writing. Supposed to have written by now, more likely.
We were tweaking the proposal. Which was really good, but the sample chapter maybe wasn’t the perfect subject matter for a proposal. We were on a roll. Then it happened.
I gave birth.
That was eight months ago. Now. I need a little time off. I do. I need to enoy the baby and wrap my head around the existence of said baby. And the fact that I don’t have to TTC any more. Ever. I hope. But the other thing is that becoming a gestational mom while writing a book about non-gestational co-moms (for lack of a more romantic, less syllabic term) kind of puts a kink in things. It has been almost impossible to step outside of the biology of my motherhood. Does that make any sense? I think, once I get a little more distance from the birth, having given birth will actually make me write a better book. There are so many things about being a gestational mom that I overlooked before. Being the one who did not give birth was mostly awesome (and not in a valley girl way, in a full-of-awe way) but also difficult emotionally. Being the one who gave birth was difficult mostly physically. But because it is also hormonal and at least for the first year or so, so tied to my mammary glands, it was also emotional in a way over which I feel I have no control. Now I understand how hard it is to give your partner the time and space she needs with the baby. I do it. But I also see why some women have a hard time with it. The funny thing is, my honey is way less sensitive about it than I am. I guess because I’m “writing the book.”
So that’s it. For now, I’m writing the book, but I make little quotation marks around it with my fingers when I say it out loud. I will go back full-force. It needs to be written. I need to write it. For real.
Ok, I swear I wrote a poll-type post asking what you have chosen or would like to choose your children to call you. Was that grammatically correct? Anywho, I’m realizing that it is one of my interview questions, but I want to hear from all of you.
If you are already moms, planning to become moms soon, or trying like all get-out to get knocked up, I want to know what you would choose or have chosen as your mom names. For example, I’m Mommy and my honey is Mama. Bette is Mama B and Tina is Mama T. Also give me any other pertinent information. How was the process of choosing the names for you? Did you choose to let the child choose one? How do people react to your mom names? Did your gender identity or ethnicity come into play at all? Any other good stuff? For example, upon turning 3, Cakie decided that we are both Mom. Mama and Mommy be darned.
Ok, first I will admit that I’m feeling a little insecure because people are reading this here blog, but only a few wonderful folks have been commenting of late. Did I do something wrong? Did I push out my writing ability along with the afterbirth? What up?
In a shameless attempt to get more attention/feedback I offer this question that will once again aid in the writing of my book, which I have actually resumed in earnest after a sixpointfive week maternity leave. Oh right, the question:
If you have kids already, what did you and your partner fight about in the first few weeks home with the baby? If you aren’t the types who actually fight (for example, my partner and I just get quietly mad,) what were the sources of tension for you? Is there anything you think you could have done beforehand to avoid these fights?
If you are still TTC or are currently pregnant, what do you think you might fight about after the baby eventually decides to show up and rock your world?
Thanks in advance for your frank and multiple comments. Hey, you can make me feel even better by making up fake identities and posting several comments. That way your honey won’t know you’re airing your dirty laundry on my blog, even though it is for the good cause of strengthening future lesbian relationships everywhere.
I want a great list of witty retorts to questions that can feel hurtful (although they may be said innocently) when lesbians first become moms.
An example of such a question is “Who is the mom?” Or “Which one of you is the real mom?”
The problem is, I’m not so agile with the witty retorts. My stock answer is “Both of us!” I need more. I want to give co-moms an arsenal of responses. Can you help? What else would you say? What other questions fall into this category? I actually had more questions thrown at me about my son’s race when Cakie was little, since I’m white and he was more cafe au lait. Anyway, I’d love your input.
Cakie met baby Jo yesterday! It was a whole world of cuteness right here in my living room. Jo shared his unbridled giggles and adorable chunky leg rolls, while Cakie whipped out his big brother skills when faced with the greater challenges of navigating a seven-month-old’s more agile moves like taking toys and being swatted in the face. I was proud of Cakie’s patience and restraint. I was impressed by Jo’s yumminess. After Jo left, I said something about little Trucker to Cakie. And he said, “And big baby Jo! He’s a lot… taller!”
My b00bs hurt. I just needed to let you know. Thanks, as usual, for listening.
Thanks for checking my blog so much. I feel like I should be more entertaining than usual or something.
Since I have a captive audience, I thought I’d ramble a little about one of my favorite topics… being a non-bio mom. My honey put me on honey-prescribed bedrest today. Mostly because my toes turned into sausages last night. I’ve been lucky to not have had too much swelling so far in my pregnancy, so it kind of freaked us both out. The one thing on my to-do list for today is to sit on my bum with my feet up and put my out-dated cd collection onto my so-far-really-lame ipod. (Any suggestions from the itunes store would be much appreciated.)
This brings me to Kate Bush. Do you know the song, “Woman’s Work?” It is written from the perspective of a father when the mother is going into labor. And he’s just worried about her and wishing she’d never gotten pregnant and thinking something terrible is going to happen to his wife and wishing he’d been and done more for her. They played it in the Kevin Bacon movie, “She’s Having a Baby” when his wife went into the room to have her c-section and he was left in the hall in his scrubs while they prepped her. I can’t hear the song without crying. I never could. Before I realized I was gay. Before I was left in the hall in scrubs while my wife was brought into the operating room for her emergency c-section.
It is weird to be the one becoming a bio-mom now, in a way. Being the co-mom to Cakie has been quite a trip. 98% of the time, you just feel like 100% the mom. And then there are the times when you’re standing in the hallway in scrubs, alone. Nothing you can do can make you part of the action in those rare cases. Now I have the baby inside me. Guess what? I still feel a little like I’m standing on the outside. This person is inside my body. Milk has leaked from my own breas.ts. Yet the fact remains that the baby is a separate person from me. I’m just housing him for a while. Maybe that 2% disconnect is not a co-mom thing at all. Maybe it is just a mom thing.
Sparky’s here! Sparky’s here! Sparky’s finally here!
Trucker is so excited, he’s kicking and biting my cervix and doing a crazy dance in my uterus. He’s making me all crampy and tight. Oye, kid. You’re not term until tomorrow, so ease up. Maybe you can meet her one day…
Big ups to the fambly grrls for their newest fambly member and their home birth. You rock!
BTW — now that I’m home nesting and writing my book, y’all might be cursed with more than one post a day from me. What can I say? My honey’s at work. And I like you people.
Was that the name of an 80’s fake rap group, or something?
Euphoria is also a feeling I had a few times in my second trimester. It actually came back to visit me on Thursday night. (I don’t know if you’ve noticed that I’m addicted to blogging. I went away this weekend and proudly did not ignore my family for one moment over my computer. We didn’t even take it with us. But now I have too much to say. It all piled up!)
I took a great yoga class Thursday night. In the middle of the class, it struck me how very close my child is to me. He is with me constantly. He can’t toddle away. He can’t go to his room and close the door in favor of a video game (which I hope to prevent altogether, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.) I can actually control everything he eats. He can’t even lay on a blanket on the floor while I hover above him. He’s right here under my heart. It made me so happy to get this time with him. I don’t know why it happened. Especially because in the third trimester, I’ve become increasingly more uncomfortable and looking forward to meeting Trucker face to face — rather than head to cervix.
I’ll take happy when I can get it. I’m finished with work, too. I have yet to feel super-happy about that because I mostly feel tired. Those of you who have packed up a classroom before know what I mean.
Now I can work on my book in earnest without waiting for my son to go to bed. And I can finally go through his closet and organize things. That makes me happy.