After returning from the hospital, I started to understand what had happened. In the moment, though, it was all about the endgame. I was nearly 41 weeks, bursting at the seams, and I had to deliver. I knew something was wrong when the doctor said—not humorously—“Let’s get this baby out.”  I had been lying on the bed for hours. After receiving the epidural, I started shaking uncontrollably (this sometimes happens after an epidural; I wasn’t aware of this side effect until experiencing it). In a short period of time, my body temperature shot up five degrees. Teeth chattering, hands like ear ..read more

            I became a professional pregnant person. I called the college I taught at soon after that early ultrasound and let them know I wouldn’t be returning to adjunct the next fall. I spent my days trying to do things that were good for the baby. I tried to eat well. I exercised. I read books about pregnancy. I napped, a lot. I felt I was storing up sleep in the cellar of my mind for the long winter of infanthood ahead.             Because, I was scared. I was scared my bipolar me ..read more

            I purchased the fertility monitor in December of 2010, eight years after Eric and I married, eight years after my psychosis and time in the psych ward, and eight years after the miscarriage. It fit in my hand, an egg-shaped computer which required me to pee on a stick, then insert that stick into its shell each morning. It became a defining feature of my life. Waking up, stumbling to the bathroom, unwrapping a long thin stick, peeing on the stick, trying not to get anything on my hands, (it always got on my hands,) inserting th ..read more

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At about four o’clock in the morning on a Friday in early October, I laid in bed, my legs sunk under the pressure of our two labrador mixes, who snoozed contentedly at my feet. Sweat pooled on my lower back, which pressed against my husband’s. I wiggled a few inches away.  When I closed my eyes, I was back in the operating room.  The fluorescent bulbs above bore relentlessly into my mind’s eye as the medical staff swarmed around, gathering tools, asking me if I felt this pin poke, that pin poke, calling out terms and vital signs faster than I could record them, the obstetrician prepa ..read more

Pregnancy with my second daughter inspired me to deepen my understanding of our family’s ancestry. Connecting with the soulful past, both with stories of struggle and resilience, would fortify her lineage and lift her forward with wisdom and grace. Her strength was evident as she grew in my belly. Her movement was bold and direct. I felt her burgeoning with new life. We affectionately called her “Albaloo” (Persian for sour cherry) while growing in utero, as it is a strong, beloved Persian flavor. Her physical strength was matched by an emotional vigor, an intensity of feeling, and the mantras ..read more

Two days before giving birth my doctor told me that if my water broke, it would be nothing like the movies. “Just a slow leak,” she said, as though I were a deflating tire, “you might not even notice it.” But I did notice my water breaking. And it was like the movies. It was just after 11PM and I was slowly making my way through my bedtime routine. Brush teeth. Wash face. Pee. But then, as I stood, situating the elastic band of my pajama pants around my nine-month belly, the flood came. At first, I wondered if I was peeing my pants. But as the stream got heavier and nothing I did stopped it, I ..read more

Last week, my baby was the size of a large onion or a Coke can, depending on which app I asked. Not long ago, it was the size of a deck of cards. One week early on, different websites told me that it was the size of a bee or the size of a raspberry. Ahead, I anticipate larger fruits—a grapefruit, perhaps, or a cantaloupe. The standard narrative is that my pregnancy will grow larger and larger, my belly more and more tumescent, until one day I—metaphorically, one hopes—pop, followed by what the narrative tells me will be a refractory period of sorts, soft-focused and full of sleeplessness and l ..read more

Aspiration*: The act of breathing fluid or food into the lungs. Can lead to pneumonia and repeated hospitalizations. *Not to be confused with the aspirations you had about Motherhood Bili Lights: Bright fluorescent lights used to treat newborn jaundice. They’ll protect your baby’s eyes with a pair of black, foam sunglasses. She’ll look like a disoriented aviator, lost in the tangled mess of wires. Birth Defect: Days after delivery, your OBGYN will call you to apologize for missing it on Baby A’s ultrasounds. You know the answer is no. But still, you ask: “would it have made a difference?” Birt ..read more