Wear life like a loose garment.
-St. Francis of Assisi
When Joe and I had the “having kids” conversation in the beginning of our relationship, I said, “maybe in 5 years”. It was not high on my to-do list, and 5 years felt like a lifetime away.
Fast forward 5 years. It is the summer before Addie is conceived. I am sitting with my cousin at a brewery in Brooklyn, having the “having kids” conversation.
“Maybe in a few years,” said I.
Lounging by the pool with a friend, same summer, same talk: “Not any time soon,” I said with certainty. Little did I know I’d be pregnant two months later.
I’d shared this sentiment a thousand times. We sort of parrot these phrases back and forth to each other now. It is usually one or the other: I-think-I- might-want-kids-but-I-am-so-not-ready, or I’m-never-having-kids. Now that we are almost thirty, it is on our minds, if for no other reason than we see on social media that someone we went to high school with had a baby and the thought occurs: yeah, my body could do that too, I guess. Makes us feel the irritating societal pressure that comes with being a woman of “childbearing age.”
Remembering the certainty in my voice that summer as I talked about my non-readiness is mildly amusing to me now. I look back and see, with great clarity, the signs and serendipities leading up to my pregnancy, to Addie’s birth, to my jolt into motherhood. I was unaware of it but those conversations around readiness were planting seeds. A budding consideration that would eventually bloom into full-blown-baby.
The summer before I got pregnant, the most important thing going on for me was that I was deep in the throes of a Sopranos binge. I had just moved to Maryland and was not thrilled about it, we were still very much in the sludgy bardo of pandemic-time, and I was working in a mental health practice, feeling like a fish out of water (the hospitality industry was not exactly thriving during COVID). Anyways— I remember one episode where Christopher (CHRISTAFAH!) comes to Tony for advice because he is debating whether he should have a baby with Adriana. Tony says something really simple like, “If you’re gonna have kids, don’t think about it. Just jump in with two feet.” I remember thinking, “That seems like good advice.”
Around the same time as the Sopranos binging, Joe and I started working through The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron (a marvelous book on creative recovery from the 90s, highly recommend). It is a 12-week course, with weekly tasks and explorations. Arguably the most important tool in The Artist’s Way is the ritual of Morning Pages. Every day you must commit to three pages of longform, stream of consciousness writing. An uncensored “brain drain.” I did my Pages diligently, every day, often recording my dreams in these daily ramblings. One night, I dreamt I was pregnant. This wasn’t the sort of thing where I was seeing myself from the outside in— this dream put me inside my body, inside the experience, in the most formidable way. I felt something in my womb- felt aware for probably the first time that I even HAD a womb. I felt, with terrifying vividity, the changing of my body. Amidst the fear there was this underlying thrum of “you are ready/this is coming/it is time/it will be great.” I woke up substantially freaked out.
In my third trimester, I remembered the dream randomly one day and revisited the Pages to see when it had happened.
June 7th. This would be the day, exactly one year later, that I would go into labor.
There were other little nudges from the universe that happened during that span of time. I was taking a quilt class and we were working on baby quilts. My grandma had randomly sent me a laminated copy of my ultrasound and birth story. The astrology assured me that big shifts would be happening in my 5th house of children, creative projects and fertility that fall. Joe and I started working on painting a big canvas, filling it with cloudy, amorphous shapes, creamy hues of green, pink and orange. When my mom came to visit, she said that it looked like we painted a baby in a womb. We cocked our heads to the side, “Um, weird,” and painted over it. Looking at this (unfinished) painting now, it feels so much like an abstract depiction of pregnancy. Full of life, roundness, bounce and expectation.
When I did the math, I discovered it was around a week after we completed The Artist’s Way that we conceived Adeline. Be careful with this book. You may find yourself creating in ways you hadn’t planned on.
Fast forward again to October- I am sipping my glass of wine on a chilly night downtown with Joe, and unbeknownst to me, quiet and miraculous things are happening within. I do not know I am pregnant yet. We are planning a trip to Mexico. Days later I will realize my period was late. It was never late. By day 4 or 5, I just kind of know. I buy two pregnancy tests anyways. I am pacing and eating some (truly delicious) smoked whitefish that I had bought the day before at the Baltimore Farmer’s Market. I eventually summon up the courage to take the tests, which just punctuate what I already know in my body to be true. The first was the classic; dainty pink lines, “even-if-second-line-is faint-it-indicates-a-positive-result”.
My second line was faint.
“You’re pregnant.” Period.
The next test was digital and just gave me a hilarious, giant YES. Big, bold, capital letters on the tiny gray screen.
“YOU’RE PREGNANT!” Exclamation mark!
Alright, I’m listening.
I Google, “Can you eat smoked fish while pregnant?”
No. You should not eat smoked fish while pregnant.
Fuck.
I cry and finish my bagel anyways.
Joe and I often refer to Adeline’s conception as “(unconscious) conscious conception,” because it felt like we had been accidentally casting spells to call her in. Because even though she was “a surprise,” she was really just right. on. time.
Surely some women feel a sense of readiness when it comes to having babies, especially if there are issues with conceiving, or if age is a factor (though I don’t think anyone can ever be fully ready for the intensity of birth or the hailstorm that is early postpartum, no matter how much preparing you have done…) Maybe you are one of those women. I was not. Personally, I had to have a “leap, and the net will appear,” kind of attitude about the whole thing.
I was never going to be ready to have a kid. As someone who is usually operating from a fairly elevated baseline, I am simultaneously always overprepared, and also never ready. Anything interesting that I’ve ever done in my life, I’ve done before I was ready; and the times that I have waited to be ready, it was usually already too late. I can recall plenty of occasions when I looked, and looked, and… never leapt. I’d overthought the thing, I’d balled myself up with anxiety in effort to prepare for whatever the opportunity was, I took it way too seriously and missed the boat.
The reality, of course, is that I could have said no to Addie (who was nameless, and around the size of a poppy seed at that point). Right? Maybe that is what you are thinking: she could have said no. It crossed my mind. I found out I was pregnant so early on. And I wasn’t READY, damn it! I might’ve said no, if I was not with my forever person, if I was younger, if I did not have that dream that felt like a message from The Great Beyond, if I felt like I could say no. For me, at this particular moment in time, it felt like to say no to her would have been to go against the natural flow of my life. It would have been unharmonious.
In Taoism, there is this concept of “flow,” of effortless action. It offers the idea that, if life is a river, you can try to swim against the current, you can hold onto a branch and try to resist the flow and stay still, or you can let go and flow along with it.
On a surface level it felt like there was absolutely no way I could follow through with this pregnancy. But there was a deeper, stronger, wiser current moving through me, telling me that I could, and that I would. Telling me that it was time, even though I really did not want it to be time. I spent most of my first trimester indignant, resistant… pissed. But I let go of the branch.
I remember talking to my midwife in our first meeting and sharing the holy-shit-I-am-not-ready-for-this sentiment. She laughed a little and simply said, “Babies come when they are ready.”
And Addie was ready. So I had to be.
keeping me sane, keeping me joyful, keeping me interested:
(or, “weekly round up” ? what to call this ongoing list of things to share each newsletter… not sure. let me know if you have an idea.)
Listening to Seven Wonders by Fleetwood Mac on repeat (when the sax comes in oooo)
Joe Rogan’s conversation with trauma expert Dr. Gabor Mate, especially around early attachment, cry-it-out, and addiction.
Making this lamb shank recipe in the slow cooker because it’s very easy but feels super decadent… do it with mashed potatoes.
This egg yolk latte recipe (thanks Claud) from Courtney Kahla. I make it hot though.
My friend Steph sent me this eye serum right before Adeline was born and I have used it every day since, it has become a tiny but nourishing new mom ritual.
Making the bed.
From the Slowdown Farmstead newsletter on the art of dawdling: “Slow down to the speed of curiosity so wonder can catch up to you.” Easier said than done.
My sister is trying to conceive after "being on the fence" for what seems like a long time. Sharing this gem with her. ❤️
Awww so cool! Thank you for sharing and subscribing!