BabiesBabiesBabies

Last week, a good friend of mine had her third baby, a girl after two boys. She had a c-section, and I was the only one standing there outside the nursery window to witness the baby's first examination, her first bath, her first stretch and yawn and accidental touch to her own face and flinch at the feeling. I stood there for 45 minutes while my friend with her husband was in the surgery, getting finished up.

I have found it awkward being at this stage in my life where I'm pretty sure I'm not getting pregnant again, yet I'm surrounded by people who keep having babies. Maybe it's their first (my sister) or second or third (relatives and friends), but for me it's like going back in time. 

Since having children, my life has been dictated by their presence. Especially moving around like we do, I often find friends who not only have children but have children the same age as my children. That's a pretty narrow margin of interest. But it works perfectly. So doing the whole baby thing again would be a radical shift.

Children change so quickly that my concerns and interests also have short life spans. I don't think about breast-feeding, sleep schedules or the best strategy for introducing solids anymore. I am at a loss when my sister asks for advice. I can hardly remember what happened only a couple of years ago because it's so other-worldly. 

I can understand now why in Khartoum my good friend was simultaneously happy for me and bummed when I got pregnant. With three of her own, she was over it. And for much of the next two years, her sporty/party-pal was going to be a little less fun and a lot less available. Such is the personal life alteration that comes with having babies.

Seeing a newly born human being last week, I couldn't help but be moved - moved right out of my baby-free comfort zone. I have only been in Amman for 14 months, yet in that time I met her parents, discussed with them their thoughts on having a third child, saw my friend go through 38 weeks of pregnancy, and have now witnessed this baby's first moments. It does seem incredible that it can happen just like that. You don't know what you're going to get, you don't know about your own health and survival of a pregnancy and delivery...there are enormous risks. Yet, there she is.

My lack of primal urge to go there again is a mystery to me. That's what it comes down to. Of course, one weighs pros and cons and considers risk and sacrifices and the lot, but with me all rationale falls aside to the inexplicable green light. 

With other women I know, there is a strongly felt revelation: I am finished with this. I feel whole. Or I am not finished with this. There is another baby who wants to be born. 

It is rude to talk about this openly (and please forgive me, I hope I'm not insulting anyone) because there are many who don't have a choice. But there are also many like myself in this privileged modern dilemma. There's no familial or religious duty or economic need to have more. A third child wouldn't throw us over the poverty line. Except for the cost of an additional plane ticket, life abroad with 3 as opposed to 2 isn't too much of a hardship since house help is affordable. It is do-able - an excess of liberty to design one's own fate, as well as one's family and of course, the unborn. Ah, the "hardship" of empowerment...and one must admit, personal luck. Who am I (with my husband, of course) to make such an enormous decision?

Is it enough that I simply do not feel the undeniable desire to have another baby? Can I feel comfortable with my personal pleasure at not being pregnant or tied to a breast-feeding little one anymore?

The problem is that there is no powerful or true red light (except the limits of my biological clock, but there is adoption of needy children...). I can't say exactly that I feel it is truly and finally over. I'm by nature open to what may come, including my own gut feeling. In the meantime, I will quietly enjoy my 2 and celebrate (albeit from a safe distance) the courage and conviction of my friends and family who boldly go forward.

Dance Lessons

David and I are taking dance lessons (merengue, salsa, bachata...so far) for the first time. We recently learned the dip, which is not as easy as it looks. 

The lessons are not the experience I was expecting. Though I don't make it a habit to have clear expectations about anything. Still, the surprises are aplenty. That David even agreed to take dance lessons is remarkable. To be fair, we've not spent much time together in places we could take lessons, and then there was all that pregnancy and infant care stuff for years. But his commitment to weekly lessons as well as weekly practice at a local dance scene has demonstrated to me that my husband can definitely still surprise me.

Another thing I've learned is that I'm not as good a dancer as I thought. One gets an idea in their head about who they are, and it takes hold. Eventually, it's tested. Sure, I was disappointed, but it's also somewhat refreshing to know that I don't know myself as well as I thought.

The other thing about lessons is how male dominated it is. Obviously, the man leads. I used to think I was a good follower, but I have been taught to hold on with every finger, but otherwise let my arms hang like dead weight and stay close. I should not anticipate any move but rather let myself be directed at the whim of my partner. I suppose I should then look as graceful and sexy as possible within the narrow parameters of his directives on my every step. 

But we haven't gotten that far in our lessons. In fact, any flourish on my part is "distracting" to my husband, and any coy smile or squeal of approval is deemed "mocking." Granted he does have much more work to do: having to know in advance which of the countless variations on the steps he will direct me to take in order to give me the natural sign beforehand so I can move with ease and in perfect rhythm with him. 

Faced with the conundrum of so many women whose guy isn't as into dancing as she is, the true work on my side is how to keep my husband interested so I can keep dancing with him!

Mission Accomplished

Just hosted first ever baby shower, and it was a success! ...due in large part to Fe--I must give credit where credit is due. She makes my life possible, what can I say??

Being away from the States, I missed out on the wave of baby showers, so kind of fumbled my way through this. Add to that the complication of guests coming from different countries and so having different expectations of what a baby shower is supposed to be like. I consulted the guest of honor and built it around that: she opened the gifts in front of everyone, we played a kind of game, we drank mimosas, no kids were allowed. 

And the weather was FABULOUS. Or I should say that it remains fabulous... Ah, spring! Windows and doors wide open, bright light, warmish breeze. How could anyone not feel in a good mood?

Must say I appreciate even more Lisa (and Connie!)'s efforts on the shower they held for me before Miles was born. All the beautiful details. Personally, I find all the details a little hard to keep track of...no matter how many lists or automated reminders. In the end, I love how all the ladies chipped in and helped out to make it go smoothly. It really is the only way for me to be able to enjoy it...to be able to let go and receive help. I just can't control everything or else my mind never settles down.

And it is a special kind of pleasure to throw a party for someone else! So glad I had the chance.