J.D.'s favorite picture is this little view of the baby's back, neck, and head. I think you can also (maybe) see ears, but that might just be my imagination. Hello little one.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Little one
We went to our 12 week appointment today. Good news! Everything looks very good. We heard the heartbeat at 167. Our baby is growing normally. She/he is 7.03 cm crown to rump, so basically 2.8 inches and right on target for his/her age. Baby was moving around like a little jumping bean. Also the Nuchal Translucency scan showed a normal number our doctor measured at least 3 times, all with the same result: (.13).
Saturday, May 23, 2009
12 Weeks
Song of Your Growing
2.8 inches crown-to-rump,
our small, red peach floating
transparent, fuzzy skinned.
I wonder how much you will change
me. I won't just give birth
to you, but to myself
as mother. Our new life.
Even more I wonder how
you will change my relationship
with him?
That love central to my being.
At the Mexican restaurant,
between tacos and flautas,
laughing with friends
he placed his hand on my belly.
"That's the first time
you've done that."
He smiled.
Inside, your eyelids are fused shut,
but could you feel?
Perhaps you placed
your thumb in your mouth
to practice satisfaction
as we practice our connection
with touches.
So many necessary things to learn:
breathing in mock motions,
drinking sips of amniotic fluid,
growing into our fragile piece of eternity.
We refine ourselves for
what we will become together.
2.8 inches crown-to-rump,
our small, red peach floating
transparent, fuzzy skinned.
I wonder how much you will change
me. I won't just give birth
to you, but to myself
as mother. Our new life.
Even more I wonder how
you will change my relationship
with him?
That love central to my being.
At the Mexican restaurant,
between tacos and flautas,
laughing with friends
he placed his hand on my belly.
"That's the first time
you've done that."
He smiled.
Inside, your eyelids are fused shut,
but could you feel?
Perhaps you placed
your thumb in your mouth
to practice satisfaction
as we practice our connection
with touches.
So many necessary things to learn:
breathing in mock motions,
drinking sips of amniotic fluid,
growing into our fragile piece of eternity.
We refine ourselves for
what we will become together.
Friday, May 22, 2009
What's making me laugh today
Hopefully they will make you laugh too, if you like seeing things that are SO bad... they become sort of delightful.
I thought these were both funny in their own L'Unique ways. The first one is the Eurovision entry from Georgia that was declined because of its "political" subject matter: "We Don't Wanna Put In" (the political part is not their spelling of "wanna"). Hey, at least Georgians have an entertaining sense of humor about disco and war.
The second one I found while amusing myself looking at other Eurovision videos. I can't watch it without cracking up, especially the beginning. The "performance" of this song (also found on youtube) was equally awful/funny.
* Please note, you may want to avoid this video if you object to seeing any of the following: partial nudity, a woman's breast exposed; sexual content/suggestion; violence/ cheesy battle scenes; a weirdo doll face; a horse falling over (but it seemed to be ok); or the use of little people in strange costumes for no apparent reason. Ok, I think I've covered everything in this disclaimer.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Birthday Shout-outs
Happy Birthday Joy!
Happy Birthday J.D.!
Two special people in my life born on this day. :)
Happy Birthday J.D.!
Two special people in my life born on this day. :)
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Why all the bizarre names?
Carried under my heart
Last evening before the thunder storm, I walked in the rich, humid air along the street's green median and found a tree with giant, soft leaves. I held my chin to the leaf and felt its veins, just perhaps as you lifted your chin from your chest for the first time.
On my walk, I picked which flowers I would like to steal, coming back at midnight when it would be raining: the dark pink peonies along a brick apartment, their blooms sweet, heavy, hidden, and low; the deep purple irises along the edge of the public road, beaten down by a dog breaking their stems; and the fairy pink roses along the dorm the college kids blissfully ignore. Let this be your first lesson: gather only neglected flowers.
But instead at midnight I washed dishes, scrapping flecks of scrabbled egg from a black frying pan. My fingernails growing longer from the vitamins, while yours take their first shape and scrape the thick liquid of your dark world.
At times I think of that world as silent, but you're really immersed in sound: the whooshing of my blood, the rumbling of our mutual dinner digesting, the steady beating of my heart on the roof above you, like the rain above me, and the waves of my voice, laughing, talking, or crying, raw sound reverberating through my bones. All evidence disclosing our continuity amid discreteness.
On my walk, I picked which flowers I would like to steal, coming back at midnight when it would be raining: the dark pink peonies along a brick apartment, their blooms sweet, heavy, hidden, and low; the deep purple irises along the edge of the public road, beaten down by a dog breaking their stems; and the fairy pink roses along the dorm the college kids blissfully ignore. Let this be your first lesson: gather only neglected flowers.
But instead at midnight I washed dishes, scrapping flecks of scrabbled egg from a black frying pan. My fingernails growing longer from the vitamins, while yours take their first shape and scrape the thick liquid of your dark world.
At times I think of that world as silent, but you're really immersed in sound: the whooshing of my blood, the rumbling of our mutual dinner digesting, the steady beating of my heart on the roof above you, like the rain above me, and the waves of my voice, laughing, talking, or crying, raw sound reverberating through my bones. All evidence disclosing our continuity amid discreteness.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
J.D.'s most difficult day at work
I drove J.D. to the Metro today and then drove myself home. It actually gave me a small but important sense of accomplishment. I know it's silly, but I haven't driven in years, and to drive the stick shift is a big deal for me.
I blew J.D. a kiss as he got on the train. He laughed and caught it. We had joked the night before about the parting scene in Young Frankenstein when Dr. Frankenstein's fiancée keeps fending off his kisses and hugs, and she even avoids a kiss he blows at her. :)
Anyway, I had a busy, fairly productive day. This evening J.D. called to let me know he made it safely to Las Vegas. He is with three people from his office at a resort. And it is a "real" resort. He spent a couple hours after landing just lounging by the pool and palm trees, sliding down a water slide, swimming, and sipping a beer by the pool. What a tough day at the office! Tonight they will probably go into the city. Have fun J.D. But not too much fun. :) Maybe I should have wrapped him in taffeta.
Seriously, I love you honey. I'm glad you're enjoying your first visit to Vegas baby.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
My First Mother's Day
The smell of something delicious woke me this morning. J.D. greeted me at the dining room doorway with a kiss and "Happy Mother's Day baby's mama." He had the table set and a special breakfast made. We ate together and enjoyed homemade waffles, scrabbled eggs, skim milk, and a small glass of orange juice. After a good meal with our silly kitties running around our feet, J.D. cleared everything and washed the dishes. And I got to lie back down and relax.
It was very sweet. I have to admit, I sort of wondered if he had anything planned. Knowing J.D., I thought he would. But I decided not to say anything and just see.
I'm lucky. I yoked my soul to one of the very best.
It was very sweet. I have to admit, I sort of wondered if he had anything planned. Knowing J.D., I thought he would. But I decided not to say anything and just see.
I'm lucky. I yoked my soul to one of the very best.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Swine Flu
J.D. has a coworker that just returned from Mexico. He decorated her desk with five of these little piggies. Three of them had masks and two didn't, including one male pig with a smirky smile and a female pig with large, luscious lips. J.D. cut the masks, and I decorated them. It was our art project. . . . we've got to entertain ourselves somehow! The pigs were evidently a big hit at work. Other coworkers have asked if they can have a piggy once she gets tired of them. :)
p.s. J.D. liked this particular pig best with his paranoid eyeballs.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Happy Birthday Olivia!
It's not everyday you turn three! Congratulations. I hope you have a great birthday today. We'll be thinking of you and wishing you lots of fun.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Lunch with the Devil
Two little boys, Basilio 14-years-old and Bernardino 12-years-old, sit side-by-side in a cave. Warm flames of light lick the walls in the separate vault where they eat their lunch beside the devil.
The older boy warns his brother to always give honor to el Tio, so he will not kill their bodies and eat their souls. If they respect him, he will not crush them by the falling rocks of his teeth or destroy them with his poisonous breath. So, they gracefully sprinkle fists of crushed coca leaves onto Tio's lap. They adorn his cracked, clay torso with precious food.
Yet, Tio's red stone eyes remain starring, unmoved. The little brother says he doesn't like to look at Tio's face with his blackened nose, snarled lips, and straight horns jutting from his head. To calm his brother's fears, Basilio tells the story of Tio's birth:
"This Tio is from the time of the Spanish when they made the Indios work in the mines for days without seeing sunlight. Twenty hours of work, four hours of sleep. The Indios didn't want to work anymore. But the Spanish knew the Indios worshipped many gods, and they built this to frighten the Indios, saying if they didn't work, he would eat them. The Spanish called him Dio, but there was no "D" in their language, so the Indios called him Tio."
Even knowing the story of Tio's creation, the boys still draw dark sinewy devils onto the cave walls with their kerosene lamps. The community still sacrifices a llama and throws its blood onto the mine's face for the devil to drink. Above ground, in the sunlight, they worship God, but once underground they are in the devil's providence.
The local Catholic priest says to see such children working in the mines is to still see Jesus suffering on the Cross. But he says he cannot tell them outright they stray from the "true faith," he only tells them in church that God is more powerful. But belief in a mostly benevolent, protective force is one thing when you are 14 and get to go to school to learn about the planets and stars, throw water balloons at girls, and sit in a church full of candles and glass windows. Belief in a monster is reality when you go into the depths of the earth to feed yourself, your brother, mother, and baby sister. Basilio and Bernardino's father died too soon to save them from this adulthood.
Later we see Basilio in the deepest part of a different, bigger mine. The temperature is hellish, 105 degrees. Dust fills the air and lines the workers' eyelashes, nostrils, and lungs. Their faces turn as white as the pale Spanish that forced their ancestors to this work. Most miners in Cerro Rico die before 40 from Tio's explosions, gasses, cave-ins, or his slow curse of Silicosis. Indeed, belief in a real devil isn't so difficult when we see bodies crushed in the jaws of the world's lust for precious things.
Documentary The Devil's Miner
The older boy warns his brother to always give honor to el Tio, so he will not kill their bodies and eat their souls. If they respect him, he will not crush them by the falling rocks of his teeth or destroy them with his poisonous breath. So, they gracefully sprinkle fists of crushed coca leaves onto Tio's lap. They adorn his cracked, clay torso with precious food.
Yet, Tio's red stone eyes remain starring, unmoved. The little brother says he doesn't like to look at Tio's face with his blackened nose, snarled lips, and straight horns jutting from his head. To calm his brother's fears, Basilio tells the story of Tio's birth:
"This Tio is from the time of the Spanish when they made the Indios work in the mines for days without seeing sunlight. Twenty hours of work, four hours of sleep. The Indios didn't want to work anymore. But the Spanish knew the Indios worshipped many gods, and they built this to frighten the Indios, saying if they didn't work, he would eat them. The Spanish called him Dio, but there was no "D" in their language, so the Indios called him Tio."
Even knowing the story of Tio's creation, the boys still draw dark sinewy devils onto the cave walls with their kerosene lamps. The community still sacrifices a llama and throws its blood onto the mine's face for the devil to drink. Above ground, in the sunlight, they worship God, but once underground they are in the devil's providence.
The local Catholic priest says to see such children working in the mines is to still see Jesus suffering on the Cross. But he says he cannot tell them outright they stray from the "true faith," he only tells them in church that God is more powerful. But belief in a mostly benevolent, protective force is one thing when you are 14 and get to go to school to learn about the planets and stars, throw water balloons at girls, and sit in a church full of candles and glass windows. Belief in a monster is reality when you go into the depths of the earth to feed yourself, your brother, mother, and baby sister. Basilio and Bernardino's father died too soon to save them from this adulthood.
Later we see Basilio in the deepest part of a different, bigger mine. The temperature is hellish, 105 degrees. Dust fills the air and lines the workers' eyelashes, nostrils, and lungs. Their faces turn as white as the pale Spanish that forced their ancestors to this work. Most miners in Cerro Rico die before 40 from Tio's explosions, gasses, cave-ins, or his slow curse of Silicosis. Indeed, belief in a real devil isn't so difficult when we see bodies crushed in the jaws of the world's lust for precious things.
Documentary The Devil's Miner
Sunday, May 3, 2009
9 Weeks
Song of Your Growing
Crown-to-rump 1.25 inches, our small grape
the plan of you completely laid down
taste and tooth buds approved
fingers and toes wiggling
ankles, wrists, and inner ear existing
nose flat and eyes far apart
We saw you spinning
and the tiny flicker of your heart,
150 beats per minute,
movement in a grey cloud
with blood circulating and brain
stemming a quarter million neurons
every 150 of those beats
I ponder all those neurons will become
No longer embryo, fetus now.
Crown-to-rump 1.25 inches, our small grape
the plan of you completely laid down
taste and tooth buds approved
fingers and toes wiggling
ankles, wrists, and inner ear existing
nose flat and eyes far apart
We saw you spinning
and the tiny flicker of your heart,
150 beats per minute,
movement in a grey cloud
with blood circulating and brain
stemming a quarter million neurons
every 150 of those beats
I ponder all those neurons will become
No longer embryo, fetus now.
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