Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Great Expectations

At some point a few weeks ago, Bella sat at the kitchen counter, grabbed a sheet of my grocery list paper, and intently started writing a missive.

Mom, how do you spell 'Christmas'?

When she was done, she read it out loud:

Dear Santa, I want a Poni [sic]. Merry Christmas. I love you. [Bella]

She then announced that she was putting it in the Day 24 slot of her advent calendar so as not to forget, and I reminded her, gently, that Santa does not bring live animals. That animals are a family decision, not a Santa decision, and can you imagine his sled and bag with live puppies and kittens and ponies? The crazy! I also reminded her that she has a pony, for all intents and purposes (it's my aunt's), 45 minutes due west of here that she can ride anytime.

Bella stared at me blankly and went and dutifully (defiantly?) put her note in her calendar.

It's that time of year, where I suppose children and normal people wish and hope and make lists and expect. And as a person with a major holiday party the week before Christmas, preceded by two days of standing on my feet awkwardly hunched over a munchkin table in a Kindergarten class making gingerbread, and still lacking the complete incentive to spread Joy! and Peace!, I remind myself that she won't miss what she doesn't know about. If I don't say anything, and don't make promises, and remind her that Santa uses the list as a guide, not a constitutional legal checklist, she'll be happy with what I can do.

And she was.

And I also reminded myself of the same. I don't make "wish lists" anymore, the whole conceit seems so, well, ripe for disappointment. Not to mention that I can't wish for what I really want. And everything else seems so very trivial in comparison. ("Um, some jelly roll pans would be nice. You know, if you can't raise the dead and perform a miracle of Biblical proportions.") I did what I could, and this year I relinquished a lot of what used to make me happy either to the "Don't Worry About It" pile, or to Bella's To-Do list. And I found that alone made me very happy, very peaceful, very content. Gone were my Martha Stewart pretensions of having perfectly glazed confections, and I scheduled a playdate and had Bella and her companion frost and decorate a full batch of Italian Wedding cookies. They looked wonderful, and lo, still tasted great. Bella did most of the tree decorating, I decided again to forgo sending cards. A wise choice.


We've told Bella about the other pending engagement on the calendar, and in full disclosure told her this was not a promise. We would likely have to wait for the baby to be born in order to know if he was healthy and could be brought home from the hospital. Interestingly, I've found that her conversations have Mid May as a boundary. She's told a few people, but seems to wait for a segue instead of just blurting it out, she likes coming up with names, she talks about the hospital a bit. She has never had a conversation with us about a baby coming home, what will happen, where the baby will go, where it will live, what it will eat, how it will change her life. Lord knows, we certainly haven't either. My internal schedule still only goes two weeks in advance, and the only way I know where I am in this escapade is based on appointments scheduled around significant dates. May is a distant mirage on my horizon, and any discussion of what comes after usually has nothing to do with a baby, but with pool memberships and third floor renovations and if it comes up, the caveat, "If he lives." Or sometimes, "Even if he dies, we'll want to . . . . " And you know, we will.

Bella's baby brother name list is as follows:

EGGPLANT (what I tell her when she asks me what we should name him)
IAN (Olivia the Pig's little brother, and the only reasonable little brother she is familiar with)
BUDDY (Our Dog)
LAREE (I believe two names she feels she can spell without help. Don't laugh, "Bob" and "Car Wash" were on my list for my little brother)

There are moments though, where even though I am still as distant from this experience as one can get with an alien life form growing inside them, that Bella does something to show that not all of us are completely tuned out. When we were decorating gingerbread at home, after making sure she had decorated a unicorn, cookies for the dogs, gingerbread people that (theoretically) resembled Mom, Dad, and Bella, she proclaimed, "And this one is Baby Brother."

(There is a clear resemblance to those blurry ultrasound pictures where everything seems blurry and unreadable and the eyes and mouth are a bit spooky. Tell me you can't see the kidneys in this.)

We can try and tamp down those expectations, but we can only do our best. No promises. I will spare you the profane and macabre joking that this pastry elicited from me and Mr. ABF, but I suppose deep down we were a bit touched. I'm glad someone here is looking after him a little, at least as much as frosting will allow.


I had my twenty week scan yesterday, and all looks fine. Which is not remotely a relief as much as it is a lack of surprise. A few weeks ago, I had a "slightly elevated" marker (and by slightly, .1 above what the cut-off is, and only noticeable because it's one of those "soft" things that they jam into an equation wherein x=my age (40) and n (as in 10n) goes up a factor of a few 100 because of the 40 part, and then odds start to look a bit scarier than it would if I were a respectable 35 or something, but who's paying attention to odds?) so Dr. Hotshit paid extra attention to the spine in addition to all the Maddy pathology goodness and is hereby "not worried." Well that makes one of us. She then scheduled me for a full bank of scans through weeks 20-30 and warned me of the impending weekly fluid checks/NSTs to start around week 30, so I think the "not worried" thing was perhaps a wee bit of an oversell.

Everyone on this side of the ugly warns me that there will come a day when this will become "real" -- like the Velveteen Rabbit, I imagine, perhaps the ultrasound photos become a bit frayed around the edges and lose their luster? -- and will start "being a mindfuck" (tm, Julia), but I'm certainly not there yet, nor do I really foresee being there, frankly. Because my "real" comes a few moments after birth (whenever that may be), there really isn't a milestone along the way where I think "Phew!" or "Viability!" or "Lung maturity up!" or whatever. There is this creature on a screen which is apparently inside my body which may or may not be hosting a time bomb, whose brain though clearly visible may or may not be composed of mush, and then I ask about the next appointment and start worrying about what to have for dinner. Maybe that day will come, who knows. Maybe it will be years from now.

I still run (well, did until we got 16" of snow and entered a deep freeze during which my five-year old is home all. the. time.), still shun maternity clothing (god, I hate that stuff. I hate even typing those words) as much possible, still cover up and try and avoid conversation with people who don't know. All the neighbors know, and those in the know have said . . . . nothing. And you don't know how much I appreciate that. There have been some quiet asides to Mr. ABF about "Let me know if I can do anything, you know, cooking, whatever" and even a nice aside to him (over the keg at the Christmas party) from a newish-neighbor physician-type who works at Children's who apparently "just found out" (and I mean, about everything) to make sure we were comfortable with who we were seeing and that he would do anything he could. Anyone who enters into conversation with me gets met with a gentle yet terse "We're saving congratulations until May," and "We're not talking much about this one." And things get shut down pretty quickly and we start up with how erratic the Steelers are this year.

Perhaps because I expected nothing, I was surprised and giddy with my (stress, MY) Beatles Rockband on Christmas morning, and have been enjoying (probably way more than is healthy) Mario Kart racing. And I didn't say anything at dinner with the relatives, and no one says anything to me, and, well, we wait. I'm not optimistic, but I'm not pessimistic either. I'm just not expecting.

I came home yesterday, showed Bella the pictures ("Is the baby healthy today?" she asked, which I considered remarkably in the moment) and told her that her gingerbread man was a far more accurate anatomical likeness if I thought so myself, and got down the 2010 calendar to enter in my next appointment. She grabbed the calendar and a pen, and before I could catch what she was doing, flipped to "May," plopped her finger down in what to her appeared as the middle square, and without saying a word wrote "BABY." Like I said, at least one of us is thinking a bit in advance.


Bluebird said...

Your stories about Bella always amaze me. Her ability to grasp and to understand. . .

So glad things are going well for now.

Ya Chun said...

luv that Bella!

I tried to stay pretty nonchalant at the beginning too. But I have since fallen hard and fast. Might as well enjoy what I can, I suppose.

I have goals for January- basically get everything ready, decided, lined up. We've managed to get the last two big purchases (a crib - to replace the drop side we had for Serenity; and a car seat, which we hadn't bought yet) done already! Now I am afraid I will have nothing to do for the last trimester and I'll get antsy.

And, yep, we are now entering our two weeks appt schedule, which will be followed by weekly schedule. At times it feels overwhelming.

Ha. I still can't get over Bella.

G$ said...

Bella is amazingly smart for her years.

Hang in there, saving my grats for May.


niobe said...

I want a poni too.

Or, not really, "too," but you get the gist.

Jayme said...

I remember my daughter asking after every appointment if the babies were still alive. I hate that our kids have to learn such a tough lesson at such a young age :(

k@lakly said...

God I remember the epic battle to try and stay 'unattached' and 'not to expect while I was expecting'. it was torture. I think at some point I, sighs, resigned myself to accepting that no matter what happened, I loved the baby within me and that all I really knew I had with him or her, was right then at that moment. It didn't make it easier but it did let me enjoy some quiet moments with what turned out to be him, while he was within me. Tiny, fleeting glimpses of hope.
I guess in the end you do what you have to do ala 'whatever gets you through the night', right?
It's good to hear the support is quietly behind you, as it should be. As we all are.
May...BABY. Yes. Please. And, healthy. Ever so healthy.

angie said...

I would prefer to take the Wizard of Oz approach to this pregnancy too. "Pay no attention to that little man behind the belly." I cannot for the life of me figure out a milestone that would make me feel comfortable, except for the birthing a live child. I just tell the optimists among my group to stuff it until the child is screaming. For me, I am astonished it is 24 weeks. How the fuck did that happen and where was I? Oh, right, in the proverbial corner of my brain in a fetal position.

Funnily, Ian, Olivia's little brother, is on Beatrice's list too, but I am partial to Eggplant myself.


moplans said...

Hurry up may!
this is breathtaking tash.
I remember that feeling of trying not to think ahead, or hope.
I am glad he is healthy today.

erica said...

Bella is amazing.

I sometimes miss being a person who can count on things happening, even though it's hard for me to imagine thinking that way again. Hoping like mad that you have a very good May.

missing_one said...

I hope May comes quickly for you all.

yes, you are right, until they are born healthy, there is not a point at which we can start to breath easy.
I guess if we had losses a little earlier, maybe we could reach that milestone and take a little comfort in it, but we can.
For me, it's going to be the moment I get to hold him in my arms breathing. For you, it will probably be when you take him home.
I'm with Julia, what a mindfuck!

Halfway to go for you! Hang in there!

Life in Eden said...

This was so touching. I think it sounds like you are doing things quite well with Bella. She is your little burning candle of hope. I'm glad things are healthy for now. Hoping spring comes swiftly.

carole said...

here's to bella. and here's to may.

CLC said...

Bella is such a cute one! I love her cookie version of the baby. I hope May comes quickly for you. Do whatever you need to get yourself there!

Sophie said...

Whatever gets you to May Tash.

I agree with Missing One. You wont breathe easy till you are on your way home with that babe. When we were in the hospital we kept waiting for the axe to fall... and when it didn't it was really weird. We didn't know what to do with ourselves.

We so dont give enough credit to how perceptive kids are. I'm not surprised about Bella. Caelan behaves the same way. They'd get along famously.

tree town gal said...

I love your daughter. I love her heart and her soul and her gentle brilliance. I'm sorry - I don't know you and I don't want to be a creep out but I still love that Bella, all the same.

loribeth said...

Bella is amazing. I love her cookie & her name choices. : ) I'm glad you're writing these these gems down for posterity.

I keep thinking it would be priceless if Baby Brother actually arrived on the date she wrote on. : )

Michele said...

raising my glass to Bella. She is quite the wonder.

edenland said...

That is one of the most beautifully written blog posts I've ever read.

Sending you peace. Bella is AMAZING.

caitsmom said...

Wow. What a story. Poignant. Thanks for sharing. Hoping for the best for your family in May. It's so hard to manage the expectations. Peace.

luna said...

I love bella's in the moment approach. what an amazing girl.

as for you, well what else can you do?

charmedgirl said...

i dont know what to say, except i want to say something. i hope this ends well? it certainly IS a mindFUCK? jesus christ how the hell can you deal? maybe all of those. all i know is expectations are the true evil in this world. all i know is...we must happen this year, and not let the year happen to us...cause, even though TODAY it might be the BEST.YEAR.EVERRRR...yeah.

Audrey said...

Yeah, those Steelers really have been all over the map this season...


Bella is a wonder.

Jenni said...

That gingerbread man! I am laughing so hard I am crying - and that hasn't happened in about 10 months. Tell Bella I said thanks for the laugh. It is funny and sweet and macabre all at the same time. Babylost land is a strange, strange place... xo

Bon said...

i like the gingerbread fetus. it looks remarkably like an u/s. cool Bella.

i like Ian. :)

Sue said...

I've had this post starred for a few days, wanting to respond, but I'm not really sure what to say.

It's an amazing post. You have an amazing daughter.

Mindfuck was the expression my sister used, too. From the very beginning. When I told our counselor that I anticipated any pregnancy to be difficult emotionally, she suggested that I not be so negative. I almost laughed in her face.

Bella is an awesome child. Hoping, if reservedly so. Loving her brother, despite the risk.

Hoping the months fly by, with moments of joy, and may your little boy arrive, healthy, on the exact day that Bella has chosen for him.

kate said...

Gee, i get away from blogging for 6 months and suddenly there are all these new babies coming! Congratulations! Keep breathing.

And Bella is amazing.

Val said...

Glad that your ship is on an even keel [bad metaphor, sorry!]...
With breath-taking rapidity, my opportunity to share Family History w/Z came & went, & it was thankfully no big deal [no further q's to date].
I took he & his friend J to the "Bodies" exhibition; we were looking at the fetuses when J started telling us about his mom's miscarriage...I impulsively showed Z a 14-weeker & told him he had a baby sister that we lost at that age. It was all so matter-of-fact it took my breath away.

biojen said...

Tash - can I ask how you (or if you, could have been a surprise for all I know) decided to try again? I just lost my Aiden to a never before heard of genetic train wreck and even though it hasn't even been two weeks since he was born (he died two weeks ago, Wednesday), I find myself wondering if I can try again. Our big question is not yet answered. Was it us? (parental karyotypes not done yet) Was it a random fluke? If it was us the answer is a resounding no - even if I felt I could handle it we could never in a million years afford IVF with PGD. But I just don't know - can I put myself and my family through this again? At the same time, the thought of that being it, of my daughter never getting to be the big sister, rips more holes in my perforated chest. I hope you can manage the next few months without too much crazy. Thank you for this blog, your story in particular helps me a little with the rage and the WHY?

Tash said...

Jen, I should probably address all the big "why's" in a post since they kinda dribble(d) out as I go here. If you come back and read this, could you send me your email? I'm at tashabf at gmail. I'd be happy to outline my thought process, but really what it took was just a fuck of a lot of time which sadly hasn't passed under your bridge yet. Thinking of you, write me if you can.