Beautiful Lou was born at 10:56 am on March 7th, weighing 8 pounds, 8 ounces. Everything at the hospital went just great, from the surgery itself to the nurses assigned to me before and after. Lou and I spent four quiet days and nights there in a blissful state of grogginess, gazing at one another… Continue reading presenting lou
Boyd and I agree that this will be our last child. There is a small part of me that feels sad at that idea, and of never experiencing this amazing and miraculous pregnancy thing again. It is, after all, an incredible thing to feel another little body growing and moving inside your own. But mostly,… Continue reading golden girl
Last week I went for my checkup with Dr. A. a day early. I was having all sorts of pain, and Boyd, with the kind of near-hysterical optimism that only someone who lives with a constant kvetcher like me can muster, thought that maybe Dr. A. could help. She took about three minutes to establish… Continue reading hitch
Given my experience when Lila was born, you can see why I would be nervous about this birth. That first time, I did everything “right”: took a childbirth class, worked with a doula, practiced relaxation techniques and did prenatal yoga every day. My diet was perfect, my kegel exercises constant, my iPod cued up to… Continue reading episode one
When your biggest fantasy about your husband is waking him up just so you can punch him in the face, it’s fair to say that things are not good. Lately, the onslaught of pregnancy hormones have combined with sheer exhaustion to create a cocktail of primal rage that is really not good for the marital… Continue reading hell hath no fury
I love Boyd. However, when the stakes are high, he does not exactly thrive under pressure. I give you the following exchange: Me: “I am as big as a house. There is no clothing anywhere on the planet that is big enough to fit me. I can barely walk across the room without passing out,… Continue reading what not to say
If you’re at the grocery store, and the cashier looks at your belly and asks when the baby is due, and you say you still have 12 weeks to go, and he says, “Holy shit,” is that bad?
What Not to Say 