Confessions of a Pregnant Toddler-Mommy

Before Asa was born, I decided that I would like to write letters to him when the mood struck, and collect them up and give them to him at some point when he is an adult.  The idea is to overwhelm him with love in a way that will probably make me feel really great and make him feel kind of uncomfortable.  But if I can't make my child uncomfortable by overloving him then WHAT THE HELL WAS I PUT ON THIS PLANET TO DO?!

Anyway, I wrote my 3rd or 4th letter to him on Monday, after a nice outing with a friend and fellow-mommy, that I thought many, if not all moms could relate to.  Enjoy.

7-24-16 letter to Asa:

Today was really hard for some reason.  We went to the aquarium with my friend Rachel and her 8-month old son, and you were mostly good.  It was hard to hear a word from Rachel because there was so much noise echoing, and I was focused on corralling you without stifling your freedom.  I let you walk most of the time, which turned to running, so we both ran, weaving in and out of people and stopping to hear you exclaim "a fish! A fish! Woooooowwwww!" Which was delightful.  You are going through a phase where I give you verbal direction and you just ignore me, which is different from a few months ago when I could trust you to walk in the park with me for a half hour without you needing to be put back in the stroller.  You do usually like to hold hands though, which is fantastic, but you get so incredibly frustrated and angry when I try to change directions, or when you can't do something for yourself (sorry- you get that from me, hopefully we can make you more comfortable with the learning process than I was).

Henry wanted Rachel to wear him in a front pack the whole time we walked.  He would touch her face and smile this incredible smile.  I felt myself getting jealous, which was ridiculous and, at the time, passed quickly.  You are doing so many amazing things, and even though this phase can be brutal (I'm 7 months pregnant and wrestling a 25 pound toddler when you're carrying 15 pounds of unborn baby is no picnic), it's also amazing to see.  You have SO MANY books memorized, and you page through them saying key words and inserting a little rhythmic jibberish in between.  You ask for what you want; tonight you wanted a banana and toast and asparagus (pronounced "pabaragus," but I gave you green beans and you didn't mind) for dinner.  You climb into the rocking chair and with an emphatic nod request "a milk" and then rock yourself.  You still give great hugs, love music, laugh wholeheartedly, and read with an endless appetite.

But I can't comfort you the way I used to.  When you are really frustrated and upset, I want to hold you, but what you need is for me to give you your space, and I wasn't ready for that yet.  I finally understand the mothers that I never wanted to be, crying that their baby is growing up too fast, plunging their sticky hands toward any friends' infant they come near and then feeling like an enormous ass when that baby bursts into tears because her movements were too sudden, her laugh too loud.  Her child isn't the only one who has grown out of the baby phase, she has too.  She's a toddler-mommy now and has little appeal to sensitive infants.

Dad was having feelings this evening and I quickly absorbed them.  We listed all the things that frustrated us throughout the day instead of talking about the fun we had or what we were able to accomplish, and then we found ourselves sitting in awkward silence.  We tried to go to bed.  I felt "off" but not despondent.  I didn't feel like anything that had happened was a very big deal, but I couldn't sleep.  He started snoring and I went downstairs to cry.  As soon as I got to the bottom of the steps I felt it all.  I saw the door to your room, not quite closed, not open enough to let any light in to disturb you.  I felt a pang in my stomach and a shrinking in my ribcage.
I wished so much that I could go into your room and scoop you up and you would stay asleep.  That I could stretch out in the recliner with you and we could wake up at sunrise fully rested and happy, but I knew I couldn't.  I couldn't have even done that with you when you were tiny!  It was a fantasy, and for some reason I was fully aware of the fact that, not only had that moment never happened, but that moment was in the past.  So I just cried, for all the feelings of loss that everyday mothers feel as their babies grow, as their relationships with their partners change, as their bodies start to look like someone else's.  I never thought motherhood would feel so lonely.

But even as I write this, your sister is kicking me, and I think of you smiling at me with your beautiful face.  I know that when I walk into your room in the morning you will stand up and enthusiastically greet me with "a.. A mommy!" And then show me your turtle pillow, tell me it says "ribbit" and I'm sure you'll surprise me with some detail from a dream you had last night, and I will feel like I'm walking on clouds.
I'm excited to meet your sister, and see your relationship grow, but for now I'll have to settle for taking a peek at you after I go to the bathroom for the 3rd time tonight.  I promise to always try to put your needs first, and to catch myself when I really really want to get you out of bed for a sleepy cuddle.  I love you, Cookie.

xoxo,
Mommy

Checking into cosmetics rehab

I look at my 20 month old son's eyes and feel an embarrassing pang of jealousy.
'Why the hell do guys get the best lashes?' I ask myself.
Then I answer, 'Probably because they also get all the other hair everywhere and it's totally ridiculous that we expect women to grow lush, thick, fabulous hair in like 3 places, but we are supposed to notice our 3 black beard hairs before anyone else does and tweeze them immediately.'

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to my sister-in-law about what it's like to have a little girl.  Her daughter is 5 now, and has been the most considerate, sociable child since she was about 8 days old.  I remember when she was 3, I hadn't seen her in a month, and when I came into my in-laws home, she gave me a big "Hi Aunt Gwetchen!" with a hug and then proceeded to ask me how I was feeling.  She had remembered (even though I didn't) that I had an upset stomach the last time I saw her.
In our conversation, my sister-in-law shared an anecdote with me about how Soleil had seen her wearing makeup for a night out and told her that she "liked her face better without makeup." (of course she did, she knows exactly what to say to everyone always).  Amy confidently thanked her and then told her that she simply liked to wear makeup sometimes because it is fun for her.  I had a sinking feeling because I knew that this is not the relationship I have with my face.

I have felt some pressure (but not too much anxiety) to get my neuroses in order before my daughter arrives in October, because I am convinced that my shit will become her shit if I am not careful.  I also want to raise my son, Asa, in a conscientious manner so that he is both confident and sensitive to the feelings of others.  I think that the way you raise a boy is just as important as the way you raise a girl, but for some reason I feel less prepared for the new challenge.  It is ferreting out all of my major and minor insecurities and forcing me to look at them head-on.  What will I do if I hear my daughter talk about herself in the same way that I do?'

I am not worried about Asa's confidence, or his judgment of other people.
When we thought of his name before he was born, I had a couple of moments where I thought, "Shit, this kid better have a heap of confidence and bravery to go through life with a strong, defiant, beautiful, but sometimes-thought-of-as-feminine name."  If his 20 month old personality is any indicator, I need not worry; He barrels through life with a huge smile on his face, shows no change in his reaction to me when I go from long wavy hair, to a bob, to a pixie, and gives no shits at all when he sees me with or without makeup.  2 days after my mother had surgery on her eyelids, she was puffy, with dark stitches near the crease over each eye.  Asa had been hanging out with her for over 24 hours, behaving normally and saying "Nana, Nana, again again!!" demanding books be read to him through her watery eyes.  At one point, while sitting in her lap, he looked up at her face for a solid minute and just said "eyes."  No reaction, not upset or entertained.  He just noticed them.  Then he moved on.

It feels different preparing for a girl.  I am constantly irritated by the only-pink options and ballerina slippers all over everything.  I hear beautiful things written by moms of girls about how they plan to "fight the good fight" and often they are fighting against things I have said myself and meant no offense by.  I want to do a good job here, and I thought my feminist chops were sufficient, but it turns out I have more work to do.

The first step needs to be loving myself, all of myself, and showing that kind of beauty to my daughter.
People who meet me might think that I am confident because I am loud and I DO like to say things like "you're lucky you get to hang out with ME all day, I would fucking love that, I love myself." which is mostly true, but sometimes smacks of fake-it-til-you-make-it bravado.  I'm a Leo.  I have a big personality, but I am not without my insecurities.
So let's tackle my cosmetics addiction.
Until Thursday, I would not leave the house without mascara on.  I could forgo foundation, eyeshadow, or lip stain, but not mascara.  My eyelashes are hilariously stubby and blonde at the ends, despite my not being blonde at all, and they have only gotten shorter in the last few years with fluctuating pregnancy and breastfeeding hormones and the hair growth and loss that results from it.  I also may have accidentally bought waterproof mascara in my last cosmetics run, causing my eyelashes to suffocate, clump, and break in ways that I haven't experienced before.
On Thursday I decided that, at the very least, my eyelashes need a break from this crap, and I stopped wearing it.  The first day, I tried to compensate by using eyeliner and shadow, but then I kind of gave that up.  What better time of year to try naked skin than the summer, when you can spontaneously end up in the sprinkler with your toddler?
Over the weekend, my husband mentioned twice to me that I was so beautiful, and last night I decided to ask him about it.  "Did you notice that I had stopped wearing eye makeup and you were trying to support me, or did you just think I looked great?"
He said he hadn't realized my experiment.  He wanted to be present for this pregnancy the way we were for the first one, so he was slowing down and really looking at me, big heaving belly and paltry eyelashes, and he felt so happy and in love that he wanted to stop and tell me about it.
Perfect.
So I talked to him about my insecurities.  I told him that it will be hard for me to truly like my face without makeup, and I don't know exactly why yet.  That I have a hundred female friends that I have seen with and without makeup and never thought ONCE that any of them should really wear makeup rather than go without.  I know we are all our worst critics, but to me, my face with makeup and my face without are 2 VERY DIFFERENT faces.  My face with makeup is beautiful.  I really love it, and I have come to associate it with WHO I AM.  My face without is blotchy, shiny, porous, and masculine (or maybe I just think that because I look the EXACT SAME as my younger brother).  I KNOW that these things are not true to other people, but at the very least I need to get accustomed to this face without makeup, to associate her with my identity, and not something to be hidden under something "more beautiful."
There were other crutches that I had been dependent on that had been stripped away in recent months as well.  If I have a good figure I could "get away" with not wearing much makeup.  If my hair was longer I could "get away with it" too.  What the hell am I "getting away with"?!

In talking to Dan about it, he tried to help by telling me how much he loved that face- the one without makeup, and proceeded to tell me WHAT he loved about it.  He can't see some of those things under foundation, he said... I had to stop him.  There was an immense knot developing in my ribcage and I needed to figure out why.
"My biggest fear," I said, "is that I look fundamentally different without my makeup.  I need to know that the difference is not that great, and that whether or not I am wearing makeup is NO BIG DEAL."
He agreed.  He had done nothing wrong.  It was my own built up insecurities rearing their ugly heads.

So here I am, in all of my face-naked glory, ready to commit to you that I will LOVE THIS FACE.  I will love it because it's mine.  I will love it because it's real.  I will love it because if it belonged to a friend I would never notice the makeup on or off of it, and I will love it to show my daughter how to love herself.

My "4th Trimester" Body

When I found out I was expecting Asa early in 2014, one of the first anxieties that creeped into my mind centered around my body image and whether I would be able to provide a safe and healthy growing space for my baby-to-be.  I made sure that my husband and midwife were both clear about my past body image issues so that they could keep an eye on my habits and keep me in check.  It turned out to be a non-issue, as I felt the most love for my body in my adult life.  As my waistline expanded and I could feel Asa move, I was so enthralled by the process that I didn't have space for feeling bad about the way I looked.  I wore smaller, tighter things that I had in a long time, and I generally felt great.  But then came the question of how this would effect my body long-term.  When the beautiful baby bump was gone, how would my feelings for my body change?  Would I expect to look like "myself" again? Or would I be more understanding of the massive changes that had happened in my body over the last year?

My friend Kathryn telepathically heard my concerns and, while I was still pregnant, she sent me a website full of inspirational birth stories and gorgeous photographs of mothers with their children, baring it all.  It's the 4th Trimester Bodies Project, and they tour the U.S. documenting women's journeys to motherhood and celebrating the beauty inherent in the changes.  

Now, the timing didn't line up for me to have my own photoshoot in the window I wanted, so I employed the help of another Catherine, and created my own rendition, inspired by the 4th Trimester Bodies Project.  

Special thanks to Kathryn Evans Ombam for introducing me to the site, to Karen Shields, CNM, Courtney Nagy, Shirley Diehl, and Daniel Hoffman for giving me an unbelievable birthing experience, to Inez Diehl and Grace Hittinger, both of whom were present in spirit at the birth center and gave me strength, to the 4th Trimester Bodies Project for inspiring this shoot and helping women love their shape post-partum, and to Catherine Van Curen who took these gorgeous photos for my family and I to enjoy:)

11-15-15

The magnificent Gretchen Diehl and Asa Chaim Hoffman-Diehl, 13 months.

In late 2013, my husband and I decided that in 2014, we would "leave it up to the universe" and stop preventing the possibility of a pregnancy.  We were not sure of our fertility and we're open to adoption, but were also avoiding saying we were "trying" because so many friends of ours had "tried" and it caused them a lot of anxiety.  At the end of January, I had a dream about my grandmother Inez, in her home.  My husband and I were purchasing her house in the dream and she was concerned she would have no place to go, so she asked if she could stay with us, and I said, "of course!" And she disappeared.  I thought the dream was special because I had never dreamt of my grandmother before, so I wrote it down.  Around the same time I started working on my tarot deck illustrations, and began researching the tarot.  I felt like I was tapped into something big.  In February I felt a hardness very low in my belly, and I took a pregnancy test, which came up negative.  After a couple of weeks and a few more negative tests, I grew concerned that I might have a tumor in my uterus or intestines.  I made an appointment with an OB in early March.  He didn't give me a pregnancy test at my visit, and his internal exam was rough and uncomfortable.  He agreed something was wrong and gave me a script for an ultrasound to see what was blocking me (since I also had not had a period since November).  Alone in my house that day, I called and made the appointment.  I had another pregnancy test, so I figured I would take it just because.  It was positive.  I was overwhelmed.  I was also alone in the house for the next 3 hours.  I called the operator at the hospital where I was scheduled to have my ultrasound and told her what happened, but as soon as the words "I'm pregnant" came out of my mouth I started crying.  The operator was excited too.  She asked if she was the first person I told, and I said yes, and we gabbed for 30 mins before deciding I did not have to cancel the ultrasound appointment, I was just coming for a different reason now.  I was already 7.5 weeks pregnant.  Dan and I were thrust into expectant parenthood.

After the unpleasant experience at the OB, I decided to research alternative birthing centers and found Gentle Beginnings in Haddon Heights, NJ with Karen Shields, CNM.  It was amazing from day 1.  Supportive women who recognized the power and nature of the female body encouraged me along the way.  My pregnancy was mostly easy and comfortable.  There were foods that made me nauseous, but I didn't really have morning sickness, I was exhausted in the first trimester, but luckily, was on sabbatical and was able to sleep A LOT.  

At 20 weeks, we got the anatomy scan and everything looked good.  At that point I was convinced I was having a girl (and had wanted a little girl for a long time), but the scan proved we were having a boy. I was upset, and then I was disgusted with myself for being upset.  I knew I would love my baby, but what if I didn't like him?

In the beginning of my third trimester I was diagnosed with Gestational Diabetes, but was able to diet manage, and a few weeks after that I developed some sort of awful itchy rash all over my body.  It began at my stretch marks and slowly spread across my chest, breasts, and legs.  It was easily the most maddening pregnancy symptom, and thankfully, disappeared right before labor.

On October 11th I started having contractions.  I called the midwives who assured me that I would know when it was time to come to the birthing center.  I kept having contractions between 4 and 10 minutes apart, and on October 18th, they became hard to ignore.  I had slept badly for a full week and was tired.  I went in to the birthing center and they checked my dilation which was only 2cm.  They sent me away to go for a walk and I felt like this baby would never want to come out.  After a long walk we went back to the center and the midwives admitted me.  

Early labor was easy to manage via the power of dance.  Dan brought the laptop filled with disco music and we had a private dance party for the first few hours.  Swaying and shaking eased the intensity of the contractions and the energy was high.  I felt like I was making progress, but after another examination I had only progressed another centimeter. I spent some time doing hip circles on an exercise ball, and sitting in a lukewarm bath.  By the time Courtney arrived, it was after midnight. I was shaking and vomiting, and was very excited to think that I might be in transition.  Another exam showed that I was now at 4cm.  I was starting to feel defeated.

Karen suggested that I might be exhausted and dehydrated, so after some deliberation, I took a shot of morphine in the glute, and was hooked up to an IV.  After a few hours of drug-induced dozing and IV fluids, I felt refreshed.  I got on the ball as soon as I was able, and Dan assisted me with doing hip circles through the strong contractions.  I was still progressing slowly, and Karen suggested breaking my water.  I was scared because she said it would get more intense, but things would move faster.  I had no idea what "more intense" would feel like.  Courtney suggested I go ahead with the procedure, and boy did things get real.  Contractions got so intense I started making panicked noises, but each time Dan and Courtney and my mom would encourage me to breathe and I blew air through my lips to control my breath. 

It came time to push, and I tried to find a good position.  The monitors lost Asa's heartbeat and I needed to shift repeatedly and stay still through contractions to find his heartbeat again.  Once it was found, it seemed like the cord might be wrapped around his neck. Karen was serious, but calm and clear.  She said, "Gretchen, I need you to lay on your back, pull your knees up, and push your baby out as fast as you can.  On the first contraction, I pushed hard, and he was crowning.  On the second his head was out.  Karen said, "I need you to push your baby OUT on this next contraction." Dan was behind my shoulder, and I heard his voice crack while he said, "you're doing a great job, babe" and I realized in that moment we were about to meet our baby.  It gave me the strength I needed, and with an animal roar, I pushed Asa out.  The cord was wrapped around his neck twice and once around his chest.  Karen did a masterful maneuver, flipping him multiple times to free him.  We left the cord attached and I held him in my arms.  He latched pretty instantly.  I looked up at Dan and said, "ok! We can do it again!"  He was 7 lbs 9 oz and 20.5 inches long.  

Asa was colicky and had terribly itchy, plaquey skin.  We learned when he was about 4 weeks old that he was sensitive to milk and soy and I changed my diet.  At around 2 months, we started to get to know our baby's real personality, and he's a real pip.  He has now grown out of his milk and soy sensitivity, and loves cheese and yogurt.  Asa showed a love for books, art and music pretty early and now his favorite activity is sitting in a pile of board books chattering to himself.  He is loving, inspiring, and a huge flirt.  It has been amazing getting to know him.

Interested in the photographs?  You can send inquiries directly to Catherine here:

photographybycatherinevancuren@gmail.com

Interested in natural birth in Southern NJ?  Check out Gentle Beginnings here:

gentlebeginningsnj.com

Interested in seeing more pictures and reading more inspiring birth stories?  Check out the 4th Trimester Bodies Project here:

4thtrimesterbodies.com