a little chutzpah and a breath...

This is about bravery.
This is about transparency.
I am conquering my fears. I am breathing in. I am breathing out. I am laying down these words.

I have spoken to most of you, in one form or many, since my last posting.
I have been unsure about whether or not to post here, ever again.
Soon after my last post, we discovered that Jeff's ex-wife subscribes to and apparently follows this blog. She does not do so publicly, never comments or gives any indication that she does so... Or rather, she didn't give any indication of these facts until, during one of Jeff's Skype calls with Ethan after my last posting, she revealed that she knew about our pregnancy.

When I initially began writing here, my intention was to make these postings public, always. If any of these writings are ever to be published in a forum other then this one, then they will be part of the communal discourse, not just for the consumption of those of you whose words and actions I support, nurture, love. Not only in a discursive arena where the participants are of like minds or ideals, where basic compassion and respect are assumed and of course given unconditionally as they are amongst anyone who publicly follows my writing, my life as I, follow and support all of your lives and your creative endeavors and struggles. But for everyone.
I suppose that is still true. My intent is still the same. My determination is still the same.

I decided within days of my last posting that it doesn't matter to me that Jeff's ex knows about my pregnancy, it does matter to me what she does with that information and how she handles herself. The choices she makes about how she talks to Ethan about his being a big brother, whether or not she decides to honor Jeff and my wishes about how the pregnancy and then the resulting, amazing child are discussed are entirely hers and reflect solely on her. We all reap the consequences of our choices.We have so little actual knowledge. In the end, the choices we all make will impact each of us, Ethan, the new baby... All Jeff and I can do is share our enthusiasm for Ethan's new role, our trust in his ability to be a great big brother and to continue to be an essential part of our immediate and extended family. We can hope that those sentiments are shared. We can take responsibility for what we say but not for what anyone else says. We can know that we are only accountable for what we say and for interacting with Ethan and all children to be, with unconditional love, respect, honesty and total devotion to their self actualization in all the myriad possible forms that takes. We can only continue to be positive forces in those children's lives.
We cannot control anyone else's behavior, I know this. So, while Jeff's ex wife told Jeff that she was happy for us and glad that Ethan will have a sibling, I think the fact that she hasn't congratulated me although she has had the opportunity, the fact that she follows this blog which is really about me and my reflections on life, living in my body, trying to live with intention, passion, compassion, awareness, without ever commenting or giving any indication that she was doing so; Those facts say more about her true feelings, her intentions and honesty,her basic, intrinsic character then any trite 'congratulatory' message she could have delivered second hand.

What Jeff's ex decides to do with the knowledge of this pregnancy or anything else she might read here, is none of my business and will reflect entirely on her.
Am I happy that in reading this blog she has read intimate details, emotions and musings? No. But I respect my audience, whoever they may be and trust that as thinking adults we will all handle each other and our respective outputs with respect, love and trust. By following my writing here,privately orin full view of the world, you have all agreed to do that. Whoever you are.

So, this blog will remain 'public' and I will commit to continuing to be brave and transparent and honest. I will commit to not censoring or censuring myself preemptively, as dangerous as that feels. I will continue to honor, respect and love those of you who this blog is meant for, my loved ones, my community. We are scaffolding and building blocks. When one crumbles, we all fall apart.

I will continue to write with humor and light and brutal truth because I owe that to myself and all of you, whether you are strong enough to comment in the open, or not.

As much as being followed,unwittingly felt and still feels invasive,stalker-like, even, as a writer I am used to and in fact, welcome the idea that my writing, once out in the world, no longer belongs to me. That idea is freeing more then anything else, if the writing no longer belongs to me then the response to those words is no longer my responsibility but the responsibility of those of you who read it.
I am grateful to those of you who comment, email, message and call on the phone in response to my writings here and else where.

All I can do is commit to not giving up, to continuing to be direct and clear in my communication as a parent, both biological and not, as a partner to Jeff, as a writer... I have a responsibility to myself and all of you to not change the way I write or what I write about regardless of who may or may not read these words.

I will commit to using the words that are true. Always.

As thrilled and filled with excitement for this pregnancy, Jeff is even more so, about a hundred fold! That fact is an amazing comfort. Of course we are both thrilled that Ethan will have a sibling as we both have siblings who we adore beyond measure who are roughly the same number of years younger than us as this baby will be than Ethan, all of those possibilities lay before us and are so wonderful to contemplate.

For me, being pregnant has been and continues to be a journey, sometimes an arduous one. Certainly, the chronic pain piece is an unexpected and sometimes difficult factor. But it is part of who I am and has been a part of my adult life as long as I can remember. The pregnancy is just another added layer of my identity, as much a part of my life as being a parent and a partner already was, as difficult as outside influences sometimes make the embodiment of those identities. I have a responsibility to live out all of my identities here, to be vulnerable and true and take risks, in writing and in action.

I have a responsibility to be an activist and a truth-sayer and an advocate, for myself and many others- that is the job of the writer, the artist. Outside of knowledge of who reads this or doesn't and what they choose to do with what is written here, I am bound by passion and conviction, by belief in myself and devotion to my existing and growing family and community, to take a big breath in and take the leap.

a forty week sublet

Jeff and I found out we were pregnant on July 6th, 2010- the day before Ethan's 4th birthday. This never felt like a coincidence to me.
It has been a bumpy ride. I had (and still have to varying degrees) a conflation of pregnancy related 'ailments' which mean I could quite easily beat down a horde of 12 year old boys in a belching contest.
Two weeks before I found out I was pregnant, I began another odyssey of sorts... I found that even my amazingly high pain threshold was no match for the pain I was feeling or my increasingly worrying lack of mobility. This discovery lead me to an orthopedist, an acupuncturist, a physical therapist, an orthotics and prosthetics specialist and a bevy of orthopedic surgeons! Oh my!
The rub on that side of the story is this; I need 2 major orthopedic surgeries on my left foot/ankle/Achilles tendon and of course; won't be having them any time soon because my body is (quite literally) otherwise occupied at the moment!
Last week I was talking about the pregnancy with Jeff and came up with this gem- "Its like my body is an apartment and I'm the benevolent but rather unskilled landlady!" The tenants are fine, they have all the basic necessities covered...The outside of the building, however, is falling apart!
I don't think that feeling is unique to me, I'm sure in fact, that many pregnant women feel that way for some if not all of their pregnancy; overjoyed by the fact that their family is expanding, petrified and appalled at how little they actually feel like themselves or how little how they feel matters to anyone else, save perhaps partners and immediate family.
I've been shocked by some of the reactions I've gotten from friends, medical workers, the public and sadly, not so shocked, sometimes in the same moment.
There's the close local friend who worried that I would have trouble negotiating Portland sidewalks with a stroller or the prenatal nurse who suggested a particular OB because she was "tolerant"... Or the in laws who were concerned about "birth defects" and wanted to know if Cerebral Palsy was genetic.
I think the answer to all of those inquiries is no. Just no. Because while I know that it is, at least in part, my responsibility to educate, elucidate, assuage fears, right now I just don't have the time.
I'm too busy dealing with my own conflicting emotions. I can't tell you how overjoyed I was when all of the genetic tests came back "little to no risk" or, how simultaneously disgusted I was with my reaction.
We don't know the baby's sex yet and won't know anything about gender for quite a few years, I'm determined to raise this child in as gender-free an environment as possible and I'm quite vocal on the subject. Why is it so difficult for me to advocate just as vociferously for my right to raise this child in an environment that with not laden with ableist judgments or expectations.
I have climbed mountains in several countries, jumped out of a plane over the Sahara desert, gone sand boarding in the Namib, catapulted myself onto moving passenger trains with 6 foot platforms in Eastern Europe, as a post-coffee ritual. I have worn impractical, ridiculous shoes in all kinds of weather, while treading over cobblestones.
I can negotiate a city street with a stroller, I can explain to anyone and everyone the difference between condition and disease, that there is no such thing as a birth defect, that we are all different and that each of us gets to decide how to identify and what our particular set of skills and weaknesses, likes and dislikes are, over I can welcome this pregnancy as yet another in an ongoing chain of adventures.
I can welcome this child into the world without any deeper expectation then that they be who they are. I can provide them that space.