baby wait

After a healthy pregnancy, just a couple of days past her due date, my sister finally delivered. A baby boy with a cleft chin and a full head of hair.

I haven’t sorted out all my feelings yet. I’m an aunt and a godmother (as soon as he’s christened), but I’m also a little sad. As the oldest, I always figured I’d give my parents their first grandchild. After all, my first miscarriage was a decade ago, so I had the head start. I have seen photos of the baby, but none of my parents with him. I wonder if that’s intentional, if they’re trying to spare me some heartbreak, or if those just haven’t been passed my way.

I’m also sad that they’re all so far away. That, as this milestone has been reached in my family, I am missing it. Waking up to a 2 minute call in the middle of the night isn’t the same kind of bonding that those local will have. The baby will likely be a few months old by the time I get home. I don’t want to be that distant relative. Even in the time we’re in, with the technology we have, there’s something to be said for being able to touch, to visit.

The baby won’t wait.


I think I’m pretty good at keeping myself in check, most of the time.

Lately, I’m faltering.

I’ve had a number of predilections in the past that consumed me. When something, someone, has my attention, my focus narrows and I find myself unable to focus on anything but that, but them.

As a kid, I ripped my nails. As someone who has never been the uber feminine girl, I found they’d peel, and I needed them to be even, so I’d tear them. Biting seemed a bit overboard, but I’d rip cuticles and nails until they were no longer askew.

I’ve gone through more phases than I care to count. Hobbies, started with such ardent enthusiasm, only to be discarded later when I moved on to the next one.

In the last several years, I had begun to think I was changing. Perhaps settling into myself a bit, no longer feeling the compulsive need to _____; whatever the case may be.

Obviously, I’m wrong.

Too much time alone at night when insomnia strikes, or in the car for my lengthy commute leaves me considering a full return of my wicked ways. Planning, strategizing, daydreaming.

My experience with drugs of the recreational sort is non-existent. Except when I’ve seen it in a professional setting, my own perception is remarkably naive. Yet, I’d think this stage of the game is similar for both myself and the drug addict. Imagining the next time you can get your fix, how you’ll do it, how you want it to go. What will happen, how you’ll react. The only thing that gets you through the time in between is the memories of the last time and the idealization of the next time. The time in between decreases as my need swells.

invisible mothers

I read a post this week, that explained something I couldn’t eloquently say.

Motherhood comes in all shapes, sizes, ages, and colours, so we also need to recognize invisible mothers this Sunday.

There are women who have been making parenting choices for their children as they attempt to bring them into the world, yet the world doesn’t recognize them as mothers.

There are women who have filled out tons of paperwork and have been judged by social workers, but because they don’t have a child yet, they aren’t considered mothers.

There are women who wanted to be mothers and took that journey emotionally, but due to circumstances could not reach physical parenthood.

There are women who were mothers, either secretly or visibly for weeks or months, but lost their children before birth.

There are women who were mothers and got to hold their child before they lost them forever, and those women are still mothers who carry their children inside their heart.

And then there are the invisible motherless.  Those people who no longer have their mother.

This Mother’s Day, rather than only looking to celebrate the obvious mothers, the ones that are clearly, visibly parenting, dig deep and use the day to also reach out to someone who is an invisible mother; not recognized by society as such but a type of mother nonetheless.  Reach out to the invisible motherless who may be struggling on a day that is meant to celebrate someone who is out of their life or dead.

I thank her for this post, as I am, and will continue to be, an invisible mother.

If you wanted to read my previous Mother’s day posts, you can, but the overriding theme is the same. 2005; 2006; 2007; 2008; 2009; 2011; 2013.

h/t to Melissa.

random remarks

It’s been a long time since I did one of these.

– My sister goes back to her OB tomorrow. They told her last week they’d be surprised if she made it to this appointment. So, any day now, I’ll officially be an aunt. I’m slightly conflicted about this.

– I’m trying to come up with something to do Sunday to distract me from feeling sorry for myself and/or missing my mom. D sleeps until 3 or 4, but I need to plan to entertain me.

– I’m somewhat adjusting to my new job, finally. It’s been an interesting 8 weeks, but I feel like I’m finally getting my footing.

– My new employees have problems with personal boundaries. Several times in the last few weeks, I’ve had to explain that the things they ask are inappropriate – like about my childbearing status. I suppose the nature of the average healthcare worker is more inquisitive than most, but I’m not a fan.

– With the exception of a pair of Badgley Mischkas I bought and returned, I have not bought a pair of shoes in about a year. I need to remedy this.