Waking up With Boys

When Derek and I got married I had a very rough time getting used to sharing a bed. And it was even harder learning to share a bed with a boy! Boys are BIG, and this particular one had yet to learn to share the blankets. This new boy sharing my bed has yet to learn when it's time to sleep and when it's time to dance...

Well this morning I woke up and there was not ONE boy, but TWO boys in my bed! The first boy sighed, rolled over, and got up to shower. The second boy flailed around, rolled over, and started tapping his foot against my hip. "Whoa!" I said out loud. The first boy looked out from the bathroom at me and said, "what?". I responded, "You left the bed, but there is still a boy in bed with me!"

I breathed deeply to expand my belly and he took advantage of each breath by flailing some more. His feet were at my hips and his hands were just under my ribs. I put my hands over him for a moment and he settled down. I breathed deep again and again he kicked and punched. I think he was doing the celebration dance I learned in high school.

Fear, Tension, Pain

Monday night was Derek and my first childbirth education class in a series of six. I hate to admit it, but I have been, as long as I can remember, petrified of giving birth. Not in general, but for myself. I fear the pain of labor and delivery more than almost anything else I can think of...except maybe dropping and breaking my camera in the middle of a big job. I know it is not rational because I cannot tell you what horrible thing I think is going to happen or why. I can't think beyond the fear to some rational conclusion like, "It's going to hurt because my blood will clot and I will die". I don't have any fears of anything unusual or dangerous happening. No, this fear is more like, "It's going to hurt! I can't do it! I won't do it!"

In our class the teacher talked about the "Fear Cycle", which goes like this: You fear the pain, tense up (which allows less oxygen to your muscles), and makes the pain more painful (and last longer), which leads to higher levels of fear, which leads to more tension, etc. etc.

Noting this cycle, and relating it to past experiences dealing with my needle phobia, helped me feel much more confident about giving birth to a child. In the past I have clenched my fist when the nurse says to, but I have a horrible time trying to relax my fist when they ask me to release it. When I relax my hand, there's usually less bruising. And when I am able to talk (read: breathe) through the needle, I am much more likely to be able to release my fist.

I guess I'm still scared of the pain, but with five more weeks of class, and a husband who is very good at keeping me focused, I am beginning to form more rational expectations about the pain of childbirth. Perhaps I've even begun to drop off the last part of that exclamation and only say, "It's going to hurt!"

Clothes Have Never Been Important

Never have I loved to
Try on one thing after another.
Never have I loved to
Compare which outfit is cheaper than the other.
Never have I loved to
sort through racks and racks of clothes.
Never have I loved to
repeatedly take off my shoes.

My socks stretch out
And my legs are scratched
From the tags that are
Stapled to these pants!

My hair's messed up
And I wore the wrong bra
For this dress I'd like to buy
But I can't!

Because then I'd need
To buy a new bra
And my budget
Won't fit the expense.

Maybe I'll stop
Wearing underwear at all!
Yeah, why wear any clothes?
That makes sense.

I'll wander around
in my white cotton socks
And never go
Shopping again!

Except to pick up
A package of socks
All I look for is
Size eight to ten!

Why can't everything be
one size fits all?
Like skirts!
When they're stretchy and loose

All you do is slip in
Quick and painless, no doubt
It will fit
And be put to good use,

Covering up all the parts
That offend certain people
When exposed to the
naked human eye.

Maybe then I'll like shopping
When the skirt always fits
And my shoes can stay on
all the time.

And my socks won't get stretched
And my hair won't get messed
I'll love shopping
When everything's my size!

A Baby Kick

Please forgive me.
I did not mean to smile
at an inappropriate moment during your story.

I won't attempt to explain it
but how shall I contain it?
I fear you'd merely find my exclamations boring.

So I keep the thrill of my emotion
down to waves of inland oceans
and think on it later when I'll appreciate it fully.

See as I sat there lis'ning
to your confidential questioning
A thing occurred inside me I can only name as holy.

It was not your tone of voice
or your lovely word choice
that made me hold my breath in stunned, still silence.

(Although I find you most intriguing,
and your story filled completely
full of romantic interludes and violence.)

It was something beyond wonder
that made me stop and ponder
What meaning my life has or ever will.

My son, so small and carefree,
in that hidden spot inside me
Leapt and twisted, turned and kicked and had his fill

Of all the spaces I have not seen
that God has shaped inside me
Just for you, my little boy, my unborn child.

So for now it's just between us,
exploring places made to fit us;
When you adventure there, at inappropriate times I smile.