What’s in a Name

With some frequency, I get asked what I’ll be called or what I want to be called as a parent.  The understanding is that S will get Mom or Mommy by default, and I’ll have to make something else up. 

Initially, I looked up what other lesbian co-parents prefer to be called, getting inspiration from the miracle that is the internet.  Sometimes it’s mamma followed by a fist name.  So – mamma lynn.  I’m not a big fan, though. Often it’s parent word in another language, like  ama or baba.  Which would work for me if I come from a people who speak  something other than English.  If the word had actual meaning to me.   My grandfather was Danish, but he never spoke anything but english to me.  I had to rent Babette’s Feast long after he died to hear Danish spoken.  Apparently, mother is “Mor” in Danish and father is “For”, but neither holds any more resonance than the danish word for potato would (mmmm potatoes). 

A friend suggests Mumsy. Yes, my mother was english.  In fact, she called her grandmother Mumsy. But it just reeks of a plump and matronly.  It’s not at all how I envision myself .  

One of our DPT group greeted me with “poppa”.  And I like “poppa”.  It’s what I spontaneously referred to myself as when I  called a friend to say S was pregnant.  I like that it represents the non-gestational parent.  But because it’s used exclusively for male parents,  I don’t want to suggest to people that I identify as transgendered.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just not my identity.  Somewhat masculine, sure.  Male, no.  

S is more than willing to share Mom or Mommy, and let junior decide what we’ll be called in his own time.  This is likely what will happen unless I decide to: a) go with the artifice* of using a parent word  in bulgarian or turkish or whatever or b) use poppa. 

 But do I really want junior to decide what I’ll be called?  What if he decides to call me “mumsy”?

 

*it would be artifice for me. Other people may find it fits them perfectly.  And it’s all about what fits.

20 Week ultrasound

Yesterday was the 20 week ultrasound.  After all the measurements were done, the technician called us (me, S’s mother and stepfather) in to have a look.  We crammed ourselves into the tiny room and looked at junior in the flicker of the ultrasound monitor. 

S:   Could you tell what sex it is?

Technician:   Oh yes.  I made note of it in the report that will be faxed to your midwife, but I can’t tell you.

Which is ok since we’d only have to wait until this afternoon to find out, which is when the next midwife appointment is scheduled.

The technician then proceeded to give us a tour of junior, who is enormous compared to last time – the head especially.  It’s a nice head-shaped head, and even in 2D the nose and lips showed up nicely.  We saw junior’s shiny zipper of a spine, the beating heart, legs, feet, arms, hands and then the technician pointed out a nubbin on the screen.

Technician: and that’s the sex.

L: That sticking-out part?

Technician: Yes.

So there you go.  Looks like junior’s a boy, which is the inital hunch I had anyway.  Only lately I had been rethinking it – with a girl fitting in more with my theories about X and Y chromosomes and miscarriages and all that.  Also, the other day S was talking to SB about work stuff, and about how she can’t prescribe drugs.  And immediately into my mind flashed “that’s ok because your daughter will be a MD and you two will work together”.  Weird.   But it really made me think that we must be having a girl if I’d get such a firm premonition.  Not that I get premonitions…  but still.

But clearly, my theory isn’t enough to predict gender — nor are my premonitions.

The technician made some images for us to purchase at the front desk — some 3D images and one 2D image .   The 3D ones are headshots showing the face and hands while the 2D shows him doing womb yoga. 

And now Junior is half through the baking process.  Which sounds great until S said “4 1/2 months to go”.  Only 4 1/2?  Holy crap that’s quick!  But then I review and figure even if he came tomorrow, we’d be able to get by with our current level of preparedness.   It’s not like I have to put soft corners on every edge in the house before he arrives!

 

Note: The midwife called to say she got  the results of the ultrasound and yes, junior’s a boy.  And the ultrasound is all good – no surprises.

L is for Lion

My  inlaws arrived on Saturday, and with them they brought baby gifts from S’s grandmother.  In the bag were a couple of stuffed animals (not to be given to a child until 3 yrs old because of choking hazards.  Hmmm) and a baby outfit.  It came with a bib with a lion on it, a onesie that said L is for Lion all over it  (at first I thought it said Lionel all over it), and a pair of pants with an L on the bum saying, you guessed it, L is for Lion.

And it hit me “holy cow, we’re having a baby!”.  It was weird because obviously we’re having a baby.  But this really brought it home somehow.  Soon, we’ll have a little person who will wear this little outfit. 

Cool, but it will be so new and different.  So big, yet so small.

Expect the Unexpected

S and I were driving on the DVP, heading north to visit a friend.  We were chatting away when we noticed that a full sheet of plywood was lifting up out of a trailer being pulled by a pickup in the lane next to us. 

We see it begin to lift and then suddenly achieve airborne status.  I realized that if it hits our car full on, it’ll crush the windshield and we’ll hit the cement embankment then who knows what… and if it hits on its edge, it will decapitate one or both of us. 

As I gently play with the brake and then the gas, we watched it float over us – and not just over us, but  away from any vehicle behind us to land on harmlessly on the paved shoulder.  I honked at the pick-up as I drove by to alert him that something was wrong, but I don’t think he noticed what had happened.  Maybe he’ll get home and say “someone stole my damn plywood again! ”

S praised me for reacting in just the right way.  And that was nice, but there really wasn’t much I could do.  Just be alert and try not to get in the way of it working out in my favour. 

There are so many times when things are largely out of my control, but in the end it turns out ok.  I don’t think I’m beloved of angels, so it makes me wonder – is it just chance that things haven’t gone bad for me yet?  Or is it because I don’t jump in to react when a reaction isn’t going to improve my odds of success, but may only act to change the outcome to a negative one? 

This morning, CBC reported on a 2 month old baby that was unable to live that was scheduled to donate her heart to another baby at Sick Kids.  And it reminded me that so many things can go wrong.  Here we have one baby that needs a heart transplant, and another baby with a brain disorder that means she can’t breathe when she sleeps. And we know a woman who had to bring her son to Sick Kids because of a rare liver cancer.  And then there was Li’l Sis who had to be flown to Sick Kids when she was 8 hours old.  And then there’s one of the DPT women who is on bedrest during her pregnancy, just like one of S’s work colleagues recently…

Even though S’s pregnancy is going very well, it seems so possible (probable even!) that something could go wrong.  Take, for instance, the other 3 fertilized eggs it shared a womb with that have died off. 

It’s like the sheet of plywood is nicely in the trailer but I know it could lift off at any minute.