533: a few photo highlights

Life has been good and chaotic here. It's been quiet and painful and wonderful and all three at once with a few more in between. I've been moderately good about keeping up with roots + wings, but it seems my bubble strains to go far beyond this.

530: peek!

What do you mean I haven't been around? Why, I'm overflowing with photos and nattering. Just not here, not right now. You see, I'm enjoying the beauty of the baby-moon, and in order to preserve that bliss, I'm recording like a mad-mama, between feedings, during naps, late at night when my eyes are crossed and I've given up on all mama-trickery. And because of this, along with other obsessive blog-readings, I've decided to go ahead and make the space public again. It's one of those will-she-or-won't-she propositions, one of those obnoxious forms of waffling I take on. Ryan always knows to hold onto what he's offering because I usually change my mind--no thanks to tasting his beer and then all of a sudden, I must taste it. For now, I'm offering it up for whomever wants to read about the journey--from all those desperately hopeful posts during the infertility treatments to my pregnancy frustrations to that crazed labor story to now, becoming a little family of three. The link: roots + wings. Come say hello!

It's been two and a half weeks since the whirlwind birth (can one call it a whirlwind when it was two days of labor? things were always happening, after all) and I've finally begun to unfurl from the family bed and into the wide world of the house. Actually, I've only been back in the bed for two days, due to an infection from my surprise! c-section, but unfurl nonetheless. I'm taking on the tasks that would have been mine from the start, but Ryan has taken them on with much charm--changing diapers, doing laundry, contacting the insurance company about overly large and frightening bills, that sort of thing. One begins to lose that get-out-of-chores-free card as the wound begins to heal.

I write this in the minutes leading up to my first class, which I am not teaching. I am officially on maternity leave, though only for my teaching duties; for my studenting duties, the light has flashed on, and I have a pile of books to work my way through, not to mention an incomplete to tidy up from last semester. I'm taking two independent studies, more or less, one taking a close look at the poetry (and prose-by-poets) of motherhood and the other is deemed 'thesis credits,' which means I'll be communicating and meeting with my thesis adviser as I progress on my manuscript. This means, of course, that I need to actually progress, but I've begun generating again, and this makes me happy. Of course, I'm learning that I am both a slow writer (or a writing-in-bursts writer) and a writer who isn't in love with the editing process (fear), a combination that is tricky as I face my final semester.

It doesn't help that all I want to do is snuggle with my little babe all day.

529: Maya

I done went and had that baby--an intensely beautiful experience, on January 3rd. And I will tell all about it, but for now, I have a few flickr photosets to share with you, so you can decide how you want to immerse yourself in my daughter, whose name became Maya Marjorie Kiefer:

- There is the hospital set, dedicated to her first 24 hours, and a bit before and after.
- There is her year one set, which will include every photo I take of her in the first year (that will grow so quickly and be the largest set by far very rapidly).
- There's 3, which is Maya with either one or both of her parents.
- There's Maya and..., which is the little one with friends and family.
- And my favorite, because it contains all my favorite photos of Maya.

524: falling behind

It's strange how small weeks can whip by in such frantic succession. I will give snippets:

- The semester has ended, which is an enormous relief, though, because of sicknesses and other disruptions, I may have to take an incomplete in one class with the goal of wrapping that up before my maternity leave is over. Most importantly, I got grades in--early--and finished thesis seminar.

- Just after the semester ended, my friend Emily hosted a dinner to celebrate the release of my chapbook The Recent History of Middle Sand Lake. We went to the Craftsman; I loved the Brussels sprouts. The table was filled with a dozen of us, and Emily had a cake made in the image of the cover. It's pretty remarkable. (Mmm, carrot.)

- Christmas was spent in Wisconsin; indeed, we braved the five-hour trek with my 38-week pregnancy progress, which turned out to be fine, our hospital bag strapped into the trunk, our car seat beside it. It was actually the visit that became the challenge--as Christmas Eve turned to Christmas, I contracted the stomach virus that had encumbered a nephew and a mama-in-law, though this was a bit more fierce for me, thirty-five bouts of illness in one day with three loads of laundry cycling, reducing me to a desperate child. I'm close to better now, but it certainly crushed me more than I expected, eclipsing the morning sickness for a few days.

- We've had several winter storms, one a full-on blizzard, in the past few weeks. The snow is up to our windows. The first was twenty inches, and Christmas Eve, while I was enjoying a few final moments of health, our town was getting covered in seven more inches (and several snows in between).

- I'm due in a week, essentially. For the gory details: I'm mildly cramping, and my mucus plug has begun to slip as of this afternoon. This means exactly what I could have told you without the earlier signs: labor could begin in a matter of hours or a matter of weeks. Very helpful, these early signs of labor, yes? My skin covers such a taut uterus; I don't feel as if there is any where else for the minnow to go. But I do hope she'll hold out until January, which is so very close. While my friend Michelle actually had a Christmas baby (10 lbs, 10 oz., named Crosby James McWoolery), I'd like more space from the raucous holiday.

I deeply look forward to the other side of this pregnancy. I've loved feeling her so close to me, those internal kicks and nudges, the reason why I gave her this little nickname, but I'm most certainly ready to meet her and begin this new journey.

I also deeply miss being outdoors. I know it is too cold for an infant to be outdoors for long, but I yearn for those deep tromps in the woods Ryan and I take with the dogs. I haven't been mobile in a great long while. Making it from class to class was enough draining effort, and at the shallow end of this virus, my snippets of energy are spent nesting as best I can.

504

The first trimester was rough, like having a hangover without the rowdy night before. The second trimester was comparatively smooth, with regular morning-sickness bouts, but minus the nausea. (Ryan's convinced my mythic second-trimester ease lasted a week.) Now I am heading into the third trimester, and already my body is shifting into an uncomfortable mode, new stomach upsets, deeper imbalances in sleep (I will be introducing the neti pot into my evening routine), moods swinging in ways they haven't swung in years. I'm trying to keep the internal peace through breathing, meditation, fresh air, making. There are layers of tethers just now, and I'm simply attempting to unfurl (and keep the casualties to a minimum).

Currently:
:: Loving prenatal yoga. I'm going twice next week. My body is sore from last night, but in such a good way. I think I moved better this time--more smoothly, and accommodated when I knew my body couldn't manage. The only position I absolutely was paralyzed on was the bridge, and that's because there is some spot on my very-lower back that leaves me immobile on my back, one of the worst pains radiating as I slowly try to roll over. I will be gentle with myself until I can manage such contortions.
:: Milk remains my strongest pregnancy craving. Strawberry shakes too.
:: Knitting more than reading. I'm still so painfully slowly making my way through Ina May Gaskin's Guide to Childbirth and Gretel Ehrilich's This Cold Heaven. I'm savoring, truly.
:: Thrilled, thrilled that Alice Starmore's Aran Knitting has been re-released. I've been lusting after it since 2004, but because it was out-of-print, any copies to own were in the hundreds of dollars. Many others must have been lusting too. Some day I will be accomplished enough to work those cables.
:: Just watched Under the Same Moon. Those last few minutes are so good--the ideal ending, hitting the right emotional note.
:: Looking forward to the weekend. I love my teaching assignment, but I find myself suddenly ready to be finished with this MFA of mine. Part of it, I know, is that my journeys are so strongly overlapping, and my brain is partly wrapped up in the trajectory of impending parenthood. So much of my body is limping along too, which feeds that desire to remain away from weighty stress.

493: grrrrrl

And there it is: our daughter. Daughter. What a strange thing to be writing, to say to one another, when we had especially anticipated a boy--from the conviction of friends' "vibes," to the dreams both myself and my mother had, to the timing of the conception, to the way I kept calling her a "he." And I'm relieved to report that, though shocked, and asking the doctor, "Are you sure?," I really, profoundly discovered I would have been happy either way. There were moments when I thought of the adorability of Jack and Jimmy, how another Kiefer boy could charm just as easily, and there were moments, such as the Vida panel at Bread Loaf, when I felt all fierce and feminist and wanting a girl. But ultimately, either sort, or anything in between, would have been welcome and beloved.

After telling Kelly, I'm slowly waiting for the ringing to die down from my ear, my own mother's hand clamped over her mouth at the news, which she received at the same moment as Ryan and myself. There it was--a mover, a manipulator. I wanted the wand to still so I could simply stare in wonder as her fists moved in and out of the cave, as she touched her face, as she bicycled her legs. In the follow-up appointment with the OB doctor, he also noticed the frolicking, the kick into the device that listens for a heartbeat, the having to chase it about to keep it steady. Oh, and how that heartbeat looked like the mouth on a puffer fish on the screen, already mocking me, telling me I was wrong to not let her stay out past curfew and that I just don't understand anything at all.

I'm completely, head-over-heels in love already. I was before I saw her face, but this makes it even more miraculous, that monkey-love, her limbs climbing about, her nose and lips jutting. I keep calling her my minnow; I think this might be baby's first nickname.

My mother and I have been busy making: she made me a second pair of maternity pants in tan corduroy, she also worked on the first version of cloth diapers, I have been knitting the kicking bag, and I finally tamed the bobbin and started making soft stacking blocks out of leftover quilt fabric. It's our sweat shop; Ryan asked me if Santa had arrived in August. I feel that push even more, the desire to make things with my hands, when it's specifically for her. Love, love, love. So much of it, right here.

483: at least my knee is getting some action

This past weekend we did a tour of Wisconsin: Green Bay to see both sets of parents and Milwaukee to visit our friends BJ and Lynn, whose rabbit Herbie is not "fixed," and therefore, fell amorously in love with my arm. He also liked to rearrange my fuzzy pants, and I have to say: I had a little crush on him too. Not so much that I would "mark" him with my chin-glands or ready myself for a little humping, but enough that Herbie's nuzzling was a highlight of our visit.

Missouri was somehow easier on me; I was safely ensconced in a five-day hiatus from stomach unrest. This Wisconsin trip had Ryan pulling over both to and from, which is never terribly pleasant, though being outdoors, centered in such a strange way, was kind of peaceful. The dogs were a tad distracted, panting out the window, desperate to run around in the tall grass.

I have to say this, above all else: I have been blessed with such a kind and caring partner. This early pregnancy has not been easy, as evidenced by my many pregnant friends who are chipper and enjoying themselves. I'm pathetic and miserable, but I do have a husband who will bring home six different cans when you ask for one of chicken noodle soup, a husband who will experiment with the CSA goodies when I cannot fathom opening the refrigerator without detouring to the bathroom, has been sympathetic and patient and listening. I just know he's going to make a fantastic parent, which makes me very lucky indeed, because I know I will go into this with coltish legs. We both will, but he has that calm that will keep me steady.

477: fruits of my (un)labor

Today was the first heartbeat appointment, so if you are curious about that and our befuddled financial future, you can read this post over on roots + wings.

I promised myself that I would keep the baby-posts to a minimum here, small anecdotes and check-ins, but otherwise, everyday life ought to dominate, despite the fact that my brain is dominated by baby-thoughts and first trimester-recovery. (One week left...)

Outside, the trees are whipping a little faster, the sky is getting angrier, and the interactive weather map shows an ominous storm approaching our little town and the cities to the north. I love a good storm. A frisson--a wonderful, happy chill of tormented weather, angst, buckets of rain and crashing of thunder, bright lightning, all that is good in gothic novels such as Wuthering Heights. We have no moors around here, only prairies and bluffs and the Mississippi River, so I take the moody where I can get it, especially when life has been so cozily good.

Our garden is a weedy mess, as it often is after a string of drizzly days and me cooped up indoors. I'm gaining strength and appetite and was able to mow the lawn for the first time in weeks (fortunately, the husband has been picking up my slack). Our backyard grows thick and fast, and after that rotation, I was happy to plop onto the sofa with ice water and my most recent novel.

Within the garden, though, are little treasures, such as those above: two tart strawberries and a trio of raspberries went down my gullet after my doctor's appointment today, little bursts of flavor from an otherwise flavorless series of days. Green beans are emerging, little tendrils, little bits surviving my neglect, incredibly. We had our first CSA share last Thursday, and I'll share some recipes we used soon.

463

I'm trying not to let the morning sickness devour me whole, but it's beginning to be difficult to function outside the home. Fortunately, the semester has come to a close (I submitted grades today; all I have left hanging over my head is a final essay for my poetics class), so my only venturing out of my comfort zone is for pleasure--Meryl's defense and celebratory lunch yesterday (oh, Meryl, you did so beautifully!) and tonight, I head up to the Twin Cities for another MFA's wedding (can you imagine starting the week defending your thesis and ending it in nuptials? This is what Ben Doty is doing).

I'm beginning to feel more and more desperate to travel somewhere--somewhere big and new. We do have the two upcoming camping trips, we have a trip to Missouri planned and another to Milwaukee. We are working on finding a good time to go to Michigan, and after I told Ryan my maternal grandmother was glad to know she would become a great-grandmother before her mind went, he suggested we also head to Chattanooga, the city where I grew up. All these things, these visits are so very good, but what I really need is a vacation. You know, one where the geography and culture completely unmoors me in wonder, one where traditions shift completely and the vocabulary is new.

I'm grateful for the sun coming out. It's making our own landscape look new; we'd had a week of rain and chilly temperatures, making me wonder if our early spring wasn't reverting. In fact, on our way to Green Bay last weekend, we drove through a bit of a snowstorm, which was surprising. Ryan found it beautiful, and I found it distressing--all that green being buried in slush!

Restlessness has settled down on me, and I know so much of it has to do with the pregnancy. My body is fully aware its freedom is waning, my sleeping in isn't for much longer, and we'll need a baby-sitter if we want to go on a date. I'm finding there are different levels of settling in, as far as pregnancy goes: there's the thrill of a new journey, coupled with the panic of responsibility and misery of the bodily changes. Oh, woe. I am pregnant!

462

Pregnancy drew me inside myself for some time: the first few days felt like a buzz, felt as if I weren't myself but a copy of myself, and I waited until I could sink back into the fullness of me. It's strange how there's that tangy chop, the before and the after. Now that I've passed day fifty, I'm beginning to feel myself unfurl: after two weeks of distraction, I am now finishing books again; after two weeks of nausea and acidity, I am now making it to the other end of the meal. Best of all, babies aren't prancing across the screen of my eyelids; I now yearn for other things--travel, mostly. Overdramatic travel, the sort that involves crossing oceans. Perhaps it's the threat of being tied to one place in a whole new way.

Pregnancy has left my brain jittering (though, I must point out, my husband would say I'm only using that as "an excuse," and it's true--I've never been a feet-on-the-ground sort of girl): It's defense week on campus, and I'm finally coming out of my cave of comforters to attend my dear friend Meryl's. Friday is a wedding of another MFAer, and this weekend, I think we may finally put those plants into the ground. I'm loving the rain and wishing for a true storm, with thunder and lightning. I've been staring down Daniel Deronda and think I will finally finish it this weekend too. It's been glaring back. I'm looking forward to two camping trips: Memorial Day weekend with my husband and two dogs, and the first weekend of June, we do our 4th annual camping adventure, this year into Wisconsin, with our friends Lane and Angie and Chad. Doula training starts soon. I'm grateful for all these things.

459: the news.

The news is out now; it's hard to keep it bottled up with strange forces such as Facebook and whatnot.

Because I have PCOS, I had to go on infertility treatments, which we started back in November. I began writing about the want of a little one not long after I returned from New Jersey, when helped out with my two adorable nephews (Ryan's sister's sons). The blog is called roots + wings, and I invite you to follow along, particularly because I'd still like this space to be an everyday, non-obsessive sort of place, which means I'll try to keep the baby-squealing to a minimum. Updates, yes. Everyday nattering, probably not.

The details: I'm almost seven weeks along, I'm due around New Year's, the baby is about the size of a sweet pea, and indeed, we are thrilled. Ryan likes to use the word "terrified" a bit more often than thrilled, but they both start with a T, right?