A brother for Ben

Yes folks, we know. And now you know! A baby boy is growing and moving and dancing a lively jig against my bowels. The ultrasound was last week and he looks good to our untrained eye, no extra limbs or anything, lots of spunk. He may, we think, even have been sucking his thumb, which we desperately tried and failed to convince Ben was a suitable form of self-soothing. He was a true “need-to-suck” baby, and is still pretty orally fixated. But no thumb! He thankfully seems to be, at 21 months, finally moving away from putting everything he picks up on the ground into his gullet! Of course now that I’ve written that, he might take a sudden fancy to those yummy looking cigarette butts everywhere.

Holy! A boy, another boy. The grandparents are verklempt (choked up), since knowing the sex is making it so much more real for them. A boy! I worry on the one hand that being of the same sex, but sharing only half their genes, the brothers will compare themselves more directly (think body size; chance of balding!). Perhaps it will be the opposite! I am sure temperament has more to do with it than genes anyway, since brothers take all forms and relate in all kinds of way. I have a brother, so I don’t know much about bro-bro relations, nor does A. Everyone says it’s so good for a boy to have a brother to play with. Who knows? My brother liked to play my games but he was also smaller and I was bossy! We think Ben’ll make a great big brother! He is a fairly cautious kid, and seems to genuinely care when his friends are sad. The Sanskrit name he was given is even Balarama who is the wonderful big bro to Krishna.

Anyway, after a moment of feeling the loss of a potential daughter, since two kids is probably it for now or ever, I have launched into the happy/crazy world of boy names. Wow, is it ever harder to name a boy. You can really get away with more for girls, and the options are so much vaster. We still have a few girl names, since my parents were told I was a boy. But this wee baby’s, um, boy parts were pretty clear! A boy. Wow. This is really happening…

E

Bio bits

Thirteen days until we find out whether Ben will be a big brother to a little girl or boy. I guess we’re telling everyone this time eh? I know the surprise can make labour worth it, but I think the baby itself will make labour worth it (plus the delicious oxytocin/endorphin rush), and darn it, I don’t want to wait to know! I normally like to look at gifts, all beautifully wrapped, for AGES longer than an anxious child would. Somehow, this is different. It is certainly a gift, though its impact is so much larger. Should it be? I wish I wasn’t mired in the sex preference game, thinking it would be fun to have a daughter next. Sex and gender have been the media darlings this past year or so with baby Storm being born. Many good questions are being discussed. I have every reason to be an enlightened mama in this area. But folks, this goes deep, way beyond reason.

Ben looks truly fabulous in pink, especially dark rose, though men are thankfully reclaiming the pink spectrum. When we put him in girlie onesies though, you know, the ones with frills, or cutesy pictures on them, it was like working out a muscle not to think I was holding my baby girl. And vice versa about truck tees, or so moms of girls tell me. It’s a crap-shoot. The truth is we are having a human child, a precious piece of the Mystery, with all the potential of the universe within them. All the hugs and lullabies and pureed carrots will be the same. The yummy baby smell, the little fingers grasping ours, the awesome aubergine stroller for two. What this child will become is unknown, regardless of their bio-bits. The best we can hope for is to provide balanced opportunities and to nurture the soul that happens to come through me with reverence and commitment. Do I love me some red corduroy dresses with rainbows on them? I won’t deny it. But the same in overall form would be adorable. And some sparkly magenta leg warmers? Some boys I know are rocking those… Why this pull for mothers to have daughters? Is it just media hype and “chicken soup for the soul” sentimentality? Don’t many daughter/mothers combos clash? Don’t boys stay devoted to their moms? Don’t boys often bond better as brothers, than bro and sis? It’s physical in one sense, being able to relate to similar bodies, and spiritual in another sense, the passing on of womanly mysteries down the maternal line. But perhaps it’s time to open up our too frequently woman-only spiritual spaces, embrace the vulnerability that invites and launch with courage into the world of gods and green men. I bet we’ll come out the richer for it! Either way, baby boy or girl, we win. Either way, I am on my knees in gratitude as this wonder. Bring on the ultrasound! I think I’m ready.

E

ultrasounds

What an interesting word. I would expect to hear incredible, out of this world tunes. Instead, we are holding hands, watching on a silent screen the very busy body of our future child in its living waters. Since it’s never happened to either of us before, I experience that out of body sensation that this is a film scene, close-up on the dewy eyed future moms, viewers wondering how the not-covered-in-slimy-lube mom is going to handle this latest evidence that she is not carrying their child. I tend to not be fully present to my emotions in these situations, just experiencing the moment and reacting later. I think it’s getting better each time, fewer aftershocks. I did start again down the shadowy road of fearing the child and I will have nothing in common when I remembered that many bio-children fare the same fate. The whole thing is a crazy experiment! Start with a decent base line of love (optional), add some drummed up egg and a cacophony of little swimming chords and poof! Music. But then you have to wait some 35-40 weeks for it to be released! Metal or Mozart, Hip Hop or Hippy, we wait with baited breath to hear those ultrasounds. The only audible thing now is the usual chorus of “just be healthy” softly behind it all, like monks chanting.

I’m scared! I have done a lot of scary things in my life: face riot cops with snarling dogs, travel to Israel alone at 19, walk into completely dark basements, get caught in the worst sandstorm in Cairo in 40 years (thankfully on a nonplused camel), carry trapped giant spiders outside, fall in love with women with manic parents who tell them they’ll kill them if they see me again, move away from my beloved Montreal after 30 years, attempt to beat 11 year old Gabriel at the “Set” card game, try to get pregnant again and again, and most of all continue to love with my whole heart and have faith. But damn, I’m scared! I think it’s best if I hum along with the monks, riffing when it feels right, avoiding the discordant “what if’s”. I want so much to meet our child and fall helplessly in love, to connect. They don’t tell you that it doesn’t happen to everyone right away. They don’t warn “other” parents, especially not other women since we’re not in any study on that yet, that post-partum can happen to them too. Well kid, whether or not we make sweet music, we’re stuck with each other for life. And I bet either way it’ll be incredible, it’ll be out of this world.

E