Here I am, last Friday afternoon, 35 weeks and 1 day pregnant.  My midwife and I joked that I might have this kid this weekend.

Hilarious, I say.

Don't I look amused?

After 24 hours of labor, the last four trying to push out an "unfavorably positioned" baby (I love how they say that, as if it was just a minor inconvenience and not DAMN NIGH IMPOSSIBLE (occiput posterior position with the addition of her leaning her head way back so the forehead presented first.  The forehead does not mold or shape like the rest of the head, so you can imagine my dilemma)), the little star found her way to us.

Baby Star Scout,

I hope you've been savoring the brain food I've gorged upon lately.  Your brain is working overtime these next few weeks to connect its synapses and form tissues, and I find it coincidental that I have also experienced a resurgence of academic inspiration and cerebral activity.  I am reading so many good books! I can't wait to tell you about them.  I think the brain is the sexiest organ a human can possess, and so even if you do turn out to be the world's next Gisele, know that I will do all I can to show you the worth you posses internally.

As Mother's Day approaches, I've been fantasizing more and more about how we will relate.  I've been in many leadership roles throughout my life, many of them dealing with the raising of children.  However, I've never seen myself perform as a mother, and despite the innate confidence from past experiences and a the general knowledge of relating to babies, I am still wise enough to know that I will be clueless most of the time.  Will I continue to despise how irritable I can be with your father?  Will I always struggle with wanting to control you?  Will you become Type-A, simply due to my neurotic linear tendencies?  Despite doing all this work to check my expectations of the kind of human I want to produce, will I still be unable to make my thinly-veiled opinion a positive resource in your development, or will it crush you on several occasions? Oh my god.  What if you don't want to go to college?!!!  And here's this thought, since no human is guaranteed a certain number of years on this planet, will I be able to enjoy the now with you instead of continually working to form you into a future version of yourself?  The truth is, I can imagine all manner of scary person you could become, for there are many archetypes of human I greatly struggle to love.  However, what I keep reminding myself is that I've been given a keen third-eye.  This vision has served me well especially when teaching, as a good teacher is required to see past the facade of a student and into their true, child-like self.  May it be that I always see your spirit and soul, may I be given the clearest vision of the honest, beautiful you.  When I forget this person as she screams at me at age 6months, 6, and 16, may the cosmos remind me of it.  I have no desire to avoid mistakes; I simply desire that you leave our nest in full possession of your parent's love and support of whomever you decide to become.  It's a bonus if you are also a cool person, but by no means a requirement for our love.

Humanity is the most gorgeous, most tragic of evolutionary endeavors. My atoms love your atoms, sweet little miracle.

Your dad and I also remarked to each other recently that you will have such a different childhood than either of us did.  For one, you will be exposed to parents who drink! ;)  Also, you may not be the outside kid Joel was, nor the worrier child I was.  Organized religion will not be the culture in which you grow up, as it was for us both.   I suppose I always knew this, but it's so strange and fascinating to think about all the things that will form you into YOU.

You are moving SOOO MUCH!  The other night, you performed a synchronized swimming routine for your father's hand.  While disturbed by these movements, (you will understand when you see the movie "Alien") we are also much enamored by them. Additionally, I can feel myself entering a lovely time of pregnancy.  When women say, "I loved being pregnant!" it is most likely this time they are remembering.  Only, it took 6 months to get here!  I am proud that I was gentle with myself through the journey.  

Just keep doing what you do, and I'll gladly co-exist for as long as humanly possible,

The Voice

(How do you like your new official nickname? It is, no doubt, one of millions to come).  It's been a very cerebral week.  I've spent time reading one of your father's heroes, Carl Sagan.  I've also devoured Rilke, started a new work of fiction that is extremely (and delightfully) philosophical.  I chatted with your Uncle Goat wherein we determined a new conclusion for the grand purpose of life.  It's also been a relatively positive week regarding pregnancy and the general state of my mind.  I am thankful for these times, for it is only after the release of pain that the flood of compassion overwhelms my spirit as I ponder those still in suffering.

Many people have a very clear vision for their lives.  From a young age,  their strengths and talents are apparent; they have parents who nurture and encourage this gift.  I was one of these people.  I always wanted to be a teacher.  I pursued this dream with resolute determination for 15 years.  This dream lasted only 3 years, and when I quit, I felt utterly and completely defeated as well as existentially lost.  I had done what I assumed I was "made to do" and although several amazing relationships were born and I learned immense lessons about myself, it was now over.  I had no future.  Now, after recovering, I don't care to return to it, but I do crave that sense of purpose.  Sparked by this conversation with Uncle Goat, I began to wonder if some people just are not born with a strong existential direction.  Perhaps their answer to "what does it all mean" or "what are my biggest dreams" is something more subjective than "I want to be a lawyer" or  "I want to be a professional musician."  What if their answer is "I want to help people" or "I want to be a healthy person."

This notion stuck with me as I began to realize that I too have been searching for a purpose anew.  My answer, for this time and place, simply is that I want to learn, learn, and learn some more.  I want to assimilate as much about peoples, cultures, literature, science, writing, psychology, wine, cooking, technology, mothering, decor, movies, books, travel, fashion, and photography as I possibly can in one lifetime (it can also be helpful to remember that a purpose in life does not necessarily equate to a career in that particular area.  Jobs are different than purposes, unless you are one of the lucky ones). Additionally, I want to learn other's opinions of the above, learn to listen better, learn to be less judgmental, learn to be kinder to myself, and learn to accept the moment.  I've found a new purpose.  I hope to employ this knowledge to counsel you come your existential crisis - to remind you that there are many visions and many paths any human can take.  I don't want to sell you an American dream, "If you can dream it, you can do it" because that's just simply untrue.  But I do want your dreams to be big, full of hope, and to help you find ways to achieve what your life on this beautiful planet has inspired you to pursue.

This week, I want to dive into a vat of mangos, eat 20 cakes,  consume lots of candy, and gorge myself on breakfast sausage (randomly enough).  I have been sleeping well (after some serious and comical arranging of pillows), and still enjoy my nightly bath with Epsom salts to ease the muscle tension in my back and legs.  My yoga instructor recommended several poses for SI joint loosening, and she encouraged me to perform them daily as well as to be sure and move every 45 minutes.  What a difference!  I wake up, have my cereal, stretch for a few minutes, and begin my day.  My body seems to be screaming, THANK YOU!  It feels euphoric to be out of pain, even if it doesn't last long.  We've also been trying to walk more, since the weather is glorious and we live so close to Greenlake.  You are moving SO much throughout the day.  You seem to enjoy post-meal workouts, and I am beginning to adjust to the sensations (which once felt disgusting.  Pregnancy in general is pretty disgusting to me, so it's nice to have graduated beyond that feeling).

This week, I said to Joel , "Oh man, our girl's gonna be so cute."  He looked at me knowingly with a hint of "what have I done" in his eyes and said with resignation,  "I know.  I know."  We are in for it.

      Yesterday, your Aunt Jackie sent the CUTEST pink onesie with a tutu attached (don't worry, I will pair it with some crazy patterned leg warmers and a funky hat).  For one of the first times in this whole process, I could see your chubby little body in my mind's eye; afterward I caught myself grinning like a fool.  It hit me that you will be MY baby.  For 33 years I have adored other's children so much, cared for them, learned about changing diapers, ways to comfort their cries, methods of gas expulsion, and feeding skills.  But I always gave the children back to their parents.  I won't ever have to do that with you and it's kind of blowing my mind.

     This week, your father said that he thinks we'll be great parents. When I asked why, he said because were are smart and logical adults.  I giggled at his simple answer, but it feels wonderful to have confidence radiating from him.  The very best advice I've heard yet (from your Gma Jean) is that I am to do exactly as I see fit with rearing my children.  I simply MUST trust myself.  Another book I am reading enforces this when in disciplinary situations with your child.  Not only should your 'no' be firm, but it should be full of conviction, as if you are entirely confident in your expectations of obedience.  I told your pop this week that I want to jump into every possible scenario with you and have a plan for all those various behaviors.  Of course this is impossible, so I realized that what I am trying to control is the horrible feeling of confusion.  I don't want to have little irritable arguments in front of you as we disagree, but that will be yet another thing to learn to do well, I suppose.  Additionally, let's not forget the merits of confusion.  It is the opposite of dogged stubbornness; it forces reevaluation and careful thought.  It will be better for you to see a woman working through problems than to see a woman perfected. Otherwise, you will never see problem-solving modeled well and will go through life assuming you should have figured it all out by now.  So my dear, I embrace the confusion of life.  It is perhaps the best of all teachers.

     As your father tried his culinary hand at Crepes Suzette this last weekend, I sat reading on the settee in my pajamas.  I think I may have felt you for the first time!  It was in the appropriate area my OB said you would be, and I saw my belly move.  It was so strange and wonderful, though I've not felt that same sensation since.  Some studies show that you now hear my voice.  I find it so riveting that the same week you are made aware of me, I am made aware of you.  My sweet firstborn daughter, it's nice to meet you.  What's your soul like?  Will you be an introvert or extrovert?  Will you love science and literature or perhaps politics and business?  What do you say we skip the whole birth thing and you can just appear in my arms one morning after a restful sleep.  

come on babe, swing your heartache

we have learned that hope does not come cheap

we all must sacrifice in the name of our beliefs

we believe in time that you will see

the frontier is misery

the frontier is misery

what do you think it is that makes us free?

a life without boundaries if you question everything

for all the times we cried and told the lies and realized life's not a rehearsal

come on babe, swing your heartache

come on babe, swing your heartache

getting older doesn't always mean you grow

to stare at the sun can easily blind you

the only way to learn you're not afraid to die

could very well involve risking your life

despite the contradictions that these words imply,

you've got to live on, live on, live on.

How she passes ever-so deliberately these days of gestation.  I am beyond thankful to see it tick bye me, knowing that with each passing minute I am closer to meeting my child and no longer sharing a body in this way.  But I feel I am also entering a really sweet time of pregnancy, the kind where Joel begins to rest his hands on my belly as I lean back on him.  The kind where I sit in a yoga studio with 18 other pregnant women as we listen to each other breathe.  The kind where I realize for one of the first times in my life thus far that I am a grown woman, capable at bringing forth life.  The kind where maybe, just maybe, I begin to uncover a fabulousness deep within that has nothing to do with vintage cocktails and tailored suit-jackets.  

I've had a few very sad days.  I've been swallowing the biggest bowls of self-pity, and while it's never my nature to try and "fix" a mood my soul needs to feel, it was unpleasant to say the least.  I am a woman whose entire adult life has been based on self-care, cultivating relationships, fashion, photography, the study and consumption of all things fine and bubbly.  I suppose I knew pregnancy would change things, but only in that a baby would change hings.  I never imagined BEING pregnant would actually birth an entirely new identity.    I always looked at it as 9 months to endure being miserable.  Oh dears, I have never been good at just enduring.  I have no choice but to be me and dig into this newness to discover what jewels of wisdom and human joy that I can.  I believe the self-pity was therefore ingrained in the fear of this new identity.  I didn't want to give up my fashion for maternity frump, and I sure as hell didn't want to stop sitting in restaurants sipping martinis wearing red lipstick and intoxicating Joel with my eyes.  But for this time, for this moment, I am those things.  I was frustrated because I felt incapable of enjoying myself in social situations without alcohol (I am an introvert, after-all), and therefore sat in the company of those I love lock-jawed and bitterly disappointed in myself for requiring wine in order to connect.    

I believe the sad self-pity has passed for now.  I managed to have a great time at a recent social event (it helped that my friend isn't drinking for lent!), and this boosted my confidence.  I can do this!  I can be pregnant and be fabulous, damn it.  It's like my yoga teacher said last night as my quads shook in extended triangle pose, "Your legs are STRONG! They can do this."  And they did.

It shook me up enough to realize that even though I have to change course and walk down a less familiar trail for the next months, that all things I am and do are still me.  I am in no danger of losing Candace, and I refuse to succumb to that fear.

Dear Baby Femme Star:

       My sweet capsule of energy, this week marks the first official time I felt truly excited to become a mother.  Everyone tells me this is a pretty normal process for the beginning of pregnancy, since for the most part, you are just sick and tired.  The catalyst for this excitement was nothing less than empowerment.  After beginning an awesome book about parenting (and subsequently reading half of it in one sitting), I could suddenly see a vision of myself as a successful and happy mother.  "Bringing up Bebe" is a wonderful account of the differences in American pregnancy/parenting vs. French pregnancy/parenting.  A lot of what the French do makes so much sense to me that it quelled so many anxieties about parenting styles.  There is a lot I've learned, but mainly the notion that the French seem to make the transition from 'woman' to 'mother' a more seamless, holistic move.  They are still encouraged to take care of themselves, to be as beautiful as they can (and to take the time to do so), and to live their life integrated with a child, not because of and totally catering to a child.  They are calm, less anxious, and generally more trusting of their children's ability to learn at a very young age.  What was revived in my  soul this week, in the place of anxiety and dread, was nothing less than hope.  My goodness, it feels divine.

        Lets talk about boundaries, shall we? One of my dear friends recently reminded me that we must implement emotional boundaries as well as psychological/interpersonal boundaries.  I suppose I forgot that I cannot possibly internalize every person's opinion of my life, marriage, pregnancy, etc. I cannot adopt every birthing method or parenting strategy.  I am a sensitive person with a rather thin skin, and have only found a way to thicken it in my early 30s.  Oh child, how I hope that you will learn this lesson much sooner in life.  How I hope to spare you from the agony of extracting all those critical voices from your being, only to discover your own voice is the true critic and that you are using others as a scapegoat.  When we hear criticism of our own choices, and afterward become prickly, defensive, and downright hurt by another's opinion, I believe what is truly painful is actually our own doubts revealed to us within this opinion.  Take the time to internalize your doubt, truly examine it in light of new information, but let it stop before it destroys hope and crushes your spirit.  There is such a difference between healthy self-doubt and insipid absorption of the world around you.  May the voice inside you be always gentle, always educated, always kind, and always empowered.  Selah.

       Your father had the most endearing dream about you, and as his eyes welled up in tears while telling me, I felt a wave of familial bliss come over me.  Oh! I am so eager to meet you and kiss your chubby face and see your father's prodigious soul within your green eyes.

~The Voice

p.s. Additionally, Joel and I could use your voice to weigh in on our debate about Harper's Bazaar vs. Vogue.  This month, Bazaar all the way. What did you think?

A change is brewing.  Imperceptible to external human observation, but ever-so tangible to me.  If my brain is this active performing an acrobatic act of tying and untying the knots of various thought-strains, it makes me again remember that so much of what we see in another person is entirely our perception; that we know very little of their magnificent or mundane brain activity.  May we be given keen third-eyes to see the true alchemy of others; I feel this gift would make us so much more gracious and compassionate with each other.  Or maybe Christianity is correct, that we are born depraved in need of saving.  Either way, we'd see it and we'd finally know.

The change I speak of is my transition from the very simple, almost bored thought-life of my first trimester to a new time of rich and complicated thoughts and situations.  My brain is stuck in the thick of things.  It isn't angst-ridden, I can shut it off, and I can say that I take much pleasure in deconstructing my feelings and unraveling my thoughts (it's a hard-fought for skill - thank you, Therapy), but it seems to be a large onslaught of thing after thing after thing and I'm quickly realizing it is certainly not just myself stumbling through these thorny thickets.  

One of my closest friends recently received a blow to her soul, and is trying like mad to re-stabilize from getting the wind knocked out of her.  Her mother, entirely healthy not 6 months ago, has rather suddenly found out that she has stage 4 pancreatic cancer which has already metastasized to her liver.   I am watching my Red behave so remarkably - marveling at her newly-discovered strength of purpose.  This woman is a warrior, and this soulless American dream of a life had recently left a gaping existential hole in her heart.  Her many gifts were seemingly rendered useless. She felt weak, sick, and lost.  However, it is THESE moments for which she was made, as horrific as they are.   Something about her, otherwise scattered, is coming together and forming this magnificent being.  I almost feel the need to step out of the way, for surely the light exuding from her head, eyes, mouth, belly, hands and feet will disintegrate my cells - for this is not what I was made for.  For now, I hold her heart for her with the other heartbeats inside of me - as it has pounded right out of her chest and broken her human body in two.  I will care for it well, for in this, my purpose is revealed.   Though she may lose everything she once knew as everything, she will never have to worry for her heart.  I'm a good watchman. She fights. I watch.  

Ever since the viewing of my child's profile via ultrasound this week, my heart has felt seven sizes too big for my rib-cage.  If this is the result of each ultrasound and every subsequent viewing of this kid, I am going to choke on my own love as it spews out of me.  It very well may kill me, but I think that's the natural way.  There are several mes inside waiting to die and be brought back newly evolved; my being is making way for this child in so many more ways than physically.  It, like the physical pregnancy, feels wonderful and horrible all at once.  There is a softening.  I am uncovering insecurities about motherhood, pregnancy, and parenting I was positive I'd never encounter.  I find myself alone in the most profound sense.  Joel and I are so interconnected and similar about most other things that it feels strange that his belly isn't growing daily, that his thoughts are not all-consumed with researching cribs or whether or not we'll feed the children organic everything or not (we completely will, by the way).  It's harder than I thought it would be to allow him his own path to attachment. It feels wrong to be so much more advanced in connectedness to the fetus, but biology is biology.  He is here to care for me as I care for the child.  He does this very well.  I felt sorry for myself that I wasn't given a husband TOTALLY crazy about having a baby, but then remember how vastly superb a father he will be to them for the rest of their lives.  My sister, thank the gods for her, said this, "I feel alone all the time.  The weight of motherhood is a perfect balance between servitude and worship.  No one will ever feel what it feels like for you to carry this star. It is your soul connection to your child.  It's a tad lonely and quite a bit of work but it bursts your soul at the seams...the cosmos has declared this is your journey.  So define it and relish it for it will never occur again."  I blink back tears of the supreme wisdom in these words every single time I read them.  I think I expected others to help me carry this, and i'faith - it is mine alone.  I am up to the task, I assure you.  I just need a second to adjust my attitude. 

I have recently had to fight for a friendship that has never required anything of me.  We've always been so in sync and respectful of each other's privacy, and in this instance, it has failed us.  We erred on the side of not communicating and in turn, realized we were both carrying worries and doubts about the future of our friendship.  I have abandoned a worldview she ascribes to and one that is most likely responsible for our initial bonding, and I made the mistake of keeping the journey to myself, partly out of confusion, partially out of shame - full well knowing the pain it would cause most people I knew.  This week, I forced myself (for her sake at the time, but I'm realizing the benefits to me now) to succinctly write out the 10-year process of deconstructing my previous worldview.  I realized also that I was viewing anyone still ascribing to it as unenlightened, under-educated, cowardly, and lazy. Through her kind and long emails, I discovered how haughty this was of me and how inappropriate it was to advise her in my own worldview.  

This theme has returned to me several times this week.  I made the mistake of reading some mother forums, and realized how doggedly opinionated parents can be, and read some very atrocious scare-tactics regarding attachment styles (ie..."If you don't pick up your child every single time they cry, they will never learn to trust you).  I've done a lot of my own research and have known how I will be proceeding in this matter for some time, so you would think I would be confident and unflappable in my choice.  However, I awoke to realizing that this simply uncovered an insecurity at my own choices as well as my pride at being judged, not to mention my anger at the ignorance of this statement - not because it's wrong per say, but because it is not fully-informed, not scientifically well-researched by this mother.  Taking time to explain your choices to someone willing to listen to you, someone who loves you, and someone who asks in the first place is one thing.  Justifying your choices to strangers and haters and offering your supreme unsolicited advice is something I must find a way to refuse to do - no matter how RIGHT I feel I am.  It's an unwise use of my precious little energy.  

Why do we assume that we have the market on the best way to live?  How arrogant of us.  Humans, though descendants from the same biological substance, are vastly different in countless ways.  Without the ability to truly feel compassion, without realizing that "you never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view...Until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it," we cannot assume that our answers will behoove someone else.  Thank you, Atticus Finch.  I believe we are here to learn from each other, not correct each other.

I am quite full-up of humble pie, served to me generously this week.  It has done me so much good, throwing me into continued realizations that I am a spec of a spec of a spec of a spec in this vast and terrifying cosmos.  I read a bit of Carl Sagan this week, "Cosmos is a Greek word for the order of the universe.  It is, in a way, the opposite of chaos."  It is organized and beautiful and unfathomable, and my insides are all of these things, as well as entirely nothing. I am nothing at all, and I am every atom ever made.