Second Letter to Baby Farmer

Dear Lucy,

As you can probably tell from my greeting, a lot has happened since I last wrote to you. We found out you’re a girl. We named you Lucy Blythe. We’ve decorated a room with ladybugs (Well, started to.) and I went on a girl clothes shopping spree that involved buying way too many pairs of Hello Kitty leg warmers.

My dear friend Dawn, who I’m sure you’ll come to know well, hosted a sprinkle to celebrate your impending arrival. She also chose a ladybug theme and outdid herself. Quite a few of my friends came to celebrate you and the fact that I’m going to be a mommy again. And they brought some presents for you that include both the lovely and practical. 🙂

Our family has been sick for most of the month of October and we seem to be gunning for the record for November as well. I think Fort is the only one who hasn’t gotten sick. First it was a stomach virus, then Angus was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Then, your big brother got a cold that turned into croup followed swiftly by nasty hives that were caused by either an allergy or a virus. We’re not sure yet. In the middle of all that, I had a gestational diabetes scare.

I admit, all of this has made me somewhat nervous for your arrival and handling two kids, but I am still so excited to meet you. I can’t help it. And I know everything will be fine.

We are very lucky, little girl. Your father and I have found a wonderful community of friends to add to the wonderful family and friends we already had before we became parents. There are so many people waiting to welcome you and it’s not just because little girls are in the minority in our group. 😉

I can’t believe at this time next year, you will be almost a year old and ready to celebrate your first holiday season. I am so excited to introduce you to everyone and everything in our little world. We live in a beautiful house in a beautiful neighborhood in what I think has to be one of the Top 10 Cities in the World. (I am biased, but Austin is pretty dang cool.) I hope you will love growing up here. I think you will.

We are going to attempt to move the crib out of your brother’s room pretty soon, so hopefully more progress will be made on your room. He has a new Thomas the Train bed he loves, so hopefully he will be willing to pass the crib on to you. I’m sure he will at some point. Never fear, though. You will have a place to sleep regardless.

We all love you, honey. See you in about 10 weeks.

Love, Mama

Enslaved when the stick turns blue

I was angry. SO angry. Now I am just sad. And frightened out of my mind.

Utah is considering and apparently likely to pass a law criminalizing miscarriage. A woman could receive up to life in prison if a medical professional even thinks and a prosecutor can prove that she did anything that could have intentionally caused a miscarriage:

Yesterday I heard about a woman in Florida whose doctor obtained a court order to force her in to the hospital for bed rest:

Today, I heard about Iowa’s feticide law:

I should have known about all of this sooner. I fully blame myself for not being more informed. But now I know. And I am mad as hell. I am a feminist, but I love men. I am concerned about hatred or dislike or prejudice expressed towards men, especially now that I have a son to raise.

However, it appears that many do not have the same concern for hatred or dislike or prejudice expressed towards women. I have wondered the past few years whether my concerns for women’s rights were overblown in this day and age. Maybe I was being oversensitive. I have no doubt now that my concerns are completely valid.

Now some lawmakers in Utah and THIRTY-SEVEN other states think women are not trustworthy enough to be entrusted with this natural process we have performed for milennia. All of a sudden, women are too dangerous or just too stupid to safeguard a human life. The state governments think we need to be forced in to protecting our pregnancies. They think they suddenly need to help us with our biological privilege of carrying children.

I have a child. I wanted to be a mother ever since I was a little girl. I loved being pregnant. I thought childbirth was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. I think pregnancy and childbirth are fascinating in general. I am even considering becoming a doula one day. I definitely want more kids. It makes me proud to be a woman, knowing that my body can protect and produce a life and nourish it.

Women have been doing this since the beginning of the human race.
They are trying to hide behind wanting to protect children. But there is a real, live, breathing, complex human being carrying that child. A human being with rights. With as many rights as that fetus. I want more children, but this possibility makes me scared to have more children. If more of these laws are enacted, I very well might not. Being pregnant is nerve-wracking enough without worrying that you will be arrested for having a miscarriage after drinking Diet Coke throughout your first trimester.

Where are our advocates? Where is Gloria Steinem? Where is Hillary Clinton? (She can usually be trusted to say something, even if it’s not popular.) Where is President Obama? Where is Michelle Obama? Does President Obama just not care about all the women who voted for him?

I feel like there is no one to protect me. I can’t believe that this proposal has gotten as far as it has. I can’t believe that so many do not realize what an atrocity this is against women and what it says about society’s attitude towards women. They are saying that we do not matter at all if we are carrying a child. They are saying we have no rights and are untrustworthy and possibly stupid.

STOP trying to legislate my body. I know how to protect myself. I know how to protect any children I carry. I can be trusted to do so. And so can most other women. Please spread the word. Do not let this happen. Do not let the last vestiges of joy and wonder be taken from pregnancy and childbirth. Don’t let the government kick a woman who has lost her child when she is down. Women have been entrusted with pregnancy and childbirth since the beginning of the human race. Women are human beings with rights who do not become pregnant by themselves, but are sometimes left alone with the consequences. Butt out and let us make our own decisions like every other American adult. Butt out and leave the baby production to the experts.

Baby cute

My husband asked me to post a cute, innocuous entry, because he wants to tell his sisters about my blog and he was afraid they would wonder why he wanted them to look at it right after my last, rather explicit, post. I probably do need a post where I don’t talk about bodily functions, but, as I’m sure many of you know, you spend most of your time dealing with those as a new mom, so they are always on your mind.

However, the second thing foremost on my mind is how cute my baby is and now much I adore him. He is, quite simply, the cutest baby ever. Despite the fact that he has all of my facial features and yet still manages to look like my husband. Which everyone points out. My husband is very handsome, but I carried the baby for forty-one and a half weeks and spent 12 hours birthing him. And he has MY features!! Grrr.

Look out below!

I finally ventured a look below nearly two weeks after having my baby. Despite the fact that everything seems pretty much healed and the stitches are gone, I think my butt cheeks are permanently clenched from the trauma of poking around down there. Well, “permanently” might be stating it a bit strongly, but they ain’t unclenching any time soon.


Why buttne (butt +acne) is never listed as part of the aftermath of pregnancy and childbirth in ANY of the books. I can’t be the only one.

Bouncy, bouncy

It is way too much fun to bounce on the exercise/birth ball.


Well, we are having an ultrasound tomorrow for 41 week testing. Just to make sure he’s still thriving in there. I think it will be fine, although I am a little nervous. However, I hope we don’t discover it’s a girl instead of a boy after picking out a name and decorating the room and everything.

I have discovered that I love bouncing on the birthing ball. It’s supposed to help bring on labor, too. A win-win.

Fun with servers

It was really fun to tell the server at Chili’s tonight that I’m five days overdue. Her eyes got so big! I’m going to tell as many people as possible until the baby comes. In fact, I might get a T-shirt made or a sign to hang around my neck. This is unexpectedly awesome.

Maybe Uncle Ben was stubborn, too

He is still refusing to come out. Maybe today will be lucky. It is the anniversary of my Uncle Ben’s birthday. He was a musician who lived in Austin. He loved cats and Garfield and could play almost every instrument. It seemed like it anyway. He died almost twenty years ago of a brain aneurysm, so I didn’t get to know him very well, but I thought he was cool. He taught me how to blow bubbles with bubble gum and gave us McDonald’s gift certificates for Christmas. I feel connected to him whenever I play the piano, although I can’t play rock ‘n’ roll on it like he could. I’m better at classical. Thanks to him, my brother and I discovered Nermal (the cutest cat in the world) and garnered hours of entertainment from that and marveling how cute his cat was all hunched up behind the curtain on the windowsill. It’s actually amazing how alike we are. I wish I’d gotten to know him better, but I’m glad for the time we got. Thanks, Uncle Ben. Hope you’re still rocking out up in heaven.


Why won’t my son come out? Doesn’t he want to be squeezed and pushed in to a glaringly bright, stiflingly hot new world full of drivers on cell phones and oblivious smokers who think being outside negates the effects of their secondhand smoke? (Yeah, I’m talking about you ladies outside the Alamo Village last Friday night, who didn’t seem to realize that the ceiling fans were wafting your cigarette smoke directly towards my unborn child’s pristine lungs.)

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