Something to Miss.

Over the weekend I went to New York to meet one of my best friend's brand new baby. I realize I'm lucky, writing sentences like that. I am not Dooce, nor do I harbor any illusions that I might someday be, and yet I've been to New York twice in Adelyn's 10-month-long life. I've also been to Florida, and to Atlanta, and spent more nights out with my friends and alone with my husband than, I think, most new moms get. Sometimes I feel guilty about this, but it's more due to an abundance of eager babysitters than a desire to be away from my baby. You know, I am 24 years old, and although I sowed my wild oats back in the day and no longer feel a desire to go crazy, there is still a part of me that needs to live separately from my life as a mother to feel sane and like myself. (I don't think this has a lot to do with age. I imagine it would be true in any decade of life, whether or not it's acted upon.)

I live so close to both sets of amazing grandparents partly because I love them and also because I really wanted that for Adelyn, to be able to have these other people in her life to offer perspective, and a break from me and her dad, and the kind of things that only family can offer. And it is because of this that I get to go places. It is also mostly thanks to Jason, who is sometimes so awesome that I don't really understand it. I keep reading on Babycenter the same cliche story of a woman about to go out of her mind because she hasn't had a minute to herself, to bathe or to grocery shop in peace, while her husband spends every free second playing Call of Duty (I've read some version of that post so many times it would be impossible to count.)

Anyway. I went to New York and had fun and missed Adelyn like crazy. Jason called me on my third day there, as I was walking literally hand-in-hand with my group of best friends down a street in Brooklyn, to tell me that Adelyn had said "Adelyn" to him and his parents. This nearly brought me to tears that, of course!, I had missed this, because as soon as you go away for a few days they always seem to do something miraculous. But it's nice to miss them sometimes, like really miss them. It makes you realize how special your life is, to have things to miss that badly.

I got to hold little five-week-old Dominic and watch my gorgeous, formerly-crazy best friend Elise living, almost in video-playback-mode-quality, my life eight and a half months ago. I've texted her the words "Hun, I so remember those days" all too often. But Dominic was amazing and so cuddly. And although I do not miss those days one tiny bit I did feel, for a fleeting second, that I wanted another one. It's hard to not feel that while holding a tiny, sleeping body in your arms.

I do miss when Addy had no choice but to cuddle with me. I don't, though, think I want to go back there anytime soon. If ever. I will happily settle for the sensation of holding a niece or nephew or honorary niece or nephew, and coming home to my babbling, Adelyn-saying, incessantly moving, only temporarily cuddly Adelyn.

Read more...

Welcome to the World, Dominic!

One of my best friends gave birth to a baby boy last night. Dominic Antonio, born ten minutes later than Adelyn. Elise and I have been on the phone every single day for the past few weeks. I remember how that was, the end of those long, long nine months, when suddenly there is a new question or fear popping up every two minutes. Somehow I knew the answer to every single question, from mucus plugs and their proximity to the first contractions, to Braxton Hicks and every single ridiculous or legitimate natural induction strategy. Elise kept marveling at my ability to answer each question with a detailed explanation. I told her that, unlike herself, who gave birth on her last day of work at 39 weeks pregnant, I spent the last month and a half of my pregnancy at home, sitting on my ass, researching everything.

I can't explain the anxiety and excitement that a friend feels from across the country, knowing someone she loves is going through something so monumental and life-altering--especially when you know that you can't be there. And especially when you've been through it yourself and you remember in pain-staking detail each intense emotion.

When I went into labor, I didn't even glance at my phone until much later the next day. I texted Elise yesterday morning to congratulate her on her last day of work, and an hour later she called me and said she thought her water broke and they were headed to the hospital. The rest of my information came through Morgan, my other best friend in New York, who was texting with Elise's fiance the whole time. At 10 p.m., I got this one: "He's out! He's out!!!!"

At five a.m., my phone by my pillow in bed, I got a picture message from Elise. Her first family portrait, an exhausted looking mommy, her partner, and their new son. 7 pounds, 4 ounces, 20 inches, and the spitting image of my gorgeous best friend.

Welcome to the world, Dominic! I can't wait to meet you when I fly there next month.

Read more...

A Magical Moment via Skype.

I know it's not a normal thing for a group of best friends from high school to sustain an actual, intact, lasting bond, but that's just what we did. As awesome as it is there are times that I wonder if this is weird, this idea of seven girls who had a cheesy nickname for their group in high school (the Six Pack... yeah), flying across the country to celebrate each other's milestones, talking constantly, still emotionally investing themselves in each other's lives and relationships. But, there we are, doing all that and more. Still. Almost a decade (!) or more later.

When Jason and I got married, I gave all of my bridesmaids this "wish" necklace. It's a simple thread, with a dove charm, meant to "fall" off, theoretically, when your wish comes true. I had one like it years ago and it broke in a matter of weeks.

Um, not this time. Crystal has developed a rash on her neck from this necklace. She itches at it incessantly and is growing embarrassed of the red splotches around her neck. She still has the necklace on. A few days ago, she came over to play with Addy, and Addy--being the jewelry-lover that she is--kept grabbing at it and pulling. For the first time when it concerned a piece of jewelry, we encouraged her, told her to "go, Addy! Pull!" It didn't budge.

Another one of my best friends, Elise, is 39 weeks pregnant with her first baby. She and I will be the only members of our group that are mothers. (Erin, Crystal and I just bought our tickets this morning to go meet her baby in November. I can't wait.) Her necklace has gotten so annoying, she told me yesterday, that she will probably request a pair of scissors immediately after she pushes little Dominic out. Before she holds him, before she takes a swig of water, she will ask for someone to rip the invincible string from her neck. (Her wish has something to do with Dominic and his healthy arrival, you see, so she won't jinx it before then. No matter how itchy that thing is.)

My best friend, Meagan, is going to graduate school in Australia right now. She and I spend a lot of time Skypeing, since we can't even talk on the phone. On Wednesday, we video-chatted for two hours. Toward the end of the conversation I was telling her about Crystal's rash and Elise's desperate desire to chop it off. Meagan was fiddling with the charm on her own wish necklace, talking about how insane it is that a piece of string could last for over six months, especially one that is constantly fiddled with, pulled, and not-so-secretly plotted against.

And in the middle of the conversation, right when Meagan was saying "maybe it will never fall off," the necklace suddenly fell into her lap. I watched it happen. We both sat there for a solid minute, barely able to speak, so taken aback by the weirdness and coincidence of the whole thing.

It was honestly a magical moment. Shared between two people, best friends for 15 years, separated by almost 10,000 miles.

(Let's hope her wish comes true.)

Read more...

Bridal Shower Part 2.

Something about being a new parent--especially when you're young, I think--makes you take a good, hard, microscopic look at all the other details of your life. Because all the things that used to be the focus of your thoughts and daily events, back when you had all the time in the world for talking on the phone and planning outings with friends and visiting with your family, suddenly take a back seat. Well, more like the back seat in a big, long bus. A back seat waaaaay back there.

Being a new parent is all-consuming. If you go back to work or if you stay home or if you do a combo or whatever, the parenting thing is still sort of resting on the forefront of your inner-narrative. When I'm working on a project or even just curling my hair I never forget, even for a moment, about the main task at hand. (Adelyn.) And I haven't officially gone back to work, at the moment I'm still just doing side projects until this job starts in July. But my days go by so fast. Dear God it's like five minutes after my feet hit the floor at the first sound of crying over the monitor I'm back in the same place, beyond eager to hit the pillow and sleep.

It's these things that force you to re-prioritize the other stuff in your life. Like friends. You no longer have time or energy to put stock in relationships that need constant attention to remain afloat. It's only the ones that can be sustained on their own, without daily, or weekly, or even monthly resuscitation needed to survive.

That's a good and a bad thing, I guess. I'm losing touch with some people I considered important to me, and I just, literally, cannot put in the effort to keep those relationships alive. The pre-mother me would be really upset about this, because I have always put a huge priority on maintaining and nourishing my friendships. Now, though, I just have to shrug it off and say "Oh, well." Before I have time to give it a few minutes of thought there's a load of laundry to be done, or dishes to be washed. Dinner to be cooked and a baby who needs to be fed.

But the good, the good has made me realize the people in my life who will be there permanently and forever, who let me vent about a fussy baby and my confusion about where my life is going, the people who listen and don't ask anything of me but to do the same for them.

I was blessed a long time ago with a group of core friends and family who care about me just as much as I care about them. It's these people who have remained, who call me just to ask how Adelyn is doing, who I'm willing to stay up an extra hour at night to talk to. I couldn't live without them.

All these thoughts came and kind of smacked me in the face this Saturday at my bridal shower, surrounded by those very people. A few of my best, best friends couldn't be there--one lives in California, the other in New York along with my sister, and one had to work. But they, in true best friend fashion, called just to say hi.

Adelyn is the lucky one, because she gets all these people in her life from the very beginning.

Addy and Trey, my mom's friend who hosted the wonderful shower for me. This woman is like hostess extraordinaire. I couldn't have asked for more. And I just love her, amazing party-thrower aside.
Jason's cousin and my future-cousin Kristy, who magically put a stop to Adelyn's crying fit with this holding position. She has two young daughters. She knows the tricks. And I took mental notes.
Jaclyn and Ella. It was Jaclyn's birthday that day, too. So happy birthday, Jaclyn! And Ella is the easiest baby to take pictures of ever, because she's SO FREAKING CALM. Seriously.
Me and my lovely momma. Her gifts were wonderful and hilarious. Along with an amazing picnic basket and some adorable pajamas, she individually wrapped a thing of hummus, some salsa, lime chips, salami, and spreadable brie. All individually wrapped. She didn't understand why I found this so funny.
Adelyn and her gorgeous Auntie Erin.
Me, Erin, Adelyn, and three of Jason's lovely cousins.
Beautiful Jazzy.

Candice and Kennedy, in her second outfit of the day. The thing about mommy friends, the second we both saw the stain creeping up on Kennedy's cute little jeans we both sprang into action. Because I've been there, oh so many times already.

And Addy, the star of the event and of every day in our lives. She later threw up all over this outfit.

Read more...

A Reluctant Charlotte.

It's hard to go back and really think about how upset I was when I first found out I was pregnant, now that she's here, now that I love her so much. But I'm reminded every now and then of those first two weeks. Those terrifying weeks when my whole world was turned upside down. I didn't know what was going to happen with my life, my routine, my self. I didn't know if my health was going to hold up long enough to get a baby out or if it was going to hold up after he or she was here. I walked around those weeks like someone had just threatened my life.

It wasn't until I started telling people--my parents, Jason's parents, my friends--that I started to be okay with the idea. That's how I deal, I guess. A flaw of mine. I had to make sure everyone else was okay with it first.

I just felt so young. I still do. I felt like everyone would think I'd done something wrong, that I'd been irresponsible. And after everyone greeted the news with compassion and excitement--not one lecture--I realized it was really me who felt sort of irresponsible. I felt like a kid. A kid who'd just gotten suspended from school for drinking at the homecoming dance. Because that was me, not eight years ago. (But see! Eight years. That seems like just yesterday.)

For all of the good that's come after The Feminine Mystique, there's a sort of undercurrent of shame that goes along with doing those tasks typically been ascribed to women. Having children. Putting a career on hold to have those children. Doing the dishes and cooking dinner. Especially if you minored in women's studies in college and proudly call yourself a feminist.

I moved to New York after high school because I, like so many girls my age, wanted to be like Carrie from Sex and the City. I wanted to be successful, stylish, fun, smart. I wanted to have the career of my dreams and a closet stuffed with expensive shoes I paid for. Children weren't part of that equation. Because what self-proclaimed feminist wants to be like Charlotte, still hung up on the domestic fairy-tale? Everyone wants to be a Carrie, maybe a Samantha. Maybe even a Miranda. Charlotte's the anti-modern woman, the one we're supposed to juxtapose with her friends and snicker at.

I guess that's one of the many ideas that made pregnancy so terrifying at first. That and the idea of "mom-jeans." No style-obsessed 23-year-old wants to be anything associated with high-rised, pleated pants.

I just don't want to be Charlotte. I don't want to be the one the modern women, the powerful women, are snickering at.

Now everything is different, of course. Now I am a mother. And I quickly realized throughout my pregnancy that mom-jeans are not a requirement, nor is a positive sign on a pregnancy test a death sentence.

I went out for the first time post-baby two weekends ago. My friend Morgan was in town from New York City, here to meet Adelyn. And so I got dressed up, put on my beloved heels and styled myself beyond stretchy pants and a T-shirt and went to dinner with some of my best friends. Afterward, I went with them to a bar. I had a beer. It all so closely resembled my former life, the one before I permanently had a burp cloth over my shoulder. And I had fun, as I always do with my best friends.

But I only stayed for that one drink.

I missed my family, Jason and Adelyn, too much to stay for another.

Read more...

The waiting game.

I've been dreading tomorrow.

Starting Monday my calendar is stark white, save a few noted doctor's appointments and pregnancy milestones. The baby shower has come and gone faster than I can believe. Christmas, too. Tonight is me and Jason's sixth anniversary, but after that celebration it's just a game of waiting. Waiting for Adelyn, contractions and water breakage. I've stocked up on books and movies and things to do to get ready for arrival, but essentially all I'll be doing is twiddling my thumbs. And patience is not--and has never been--a gift of mine. Deep down I still sometimes feel like the same tempestuous little girl I was growing up. "I want it NOW!" used to be a motto of mine (sorry, mom and dad).

But this whirlwind week has been wonderful. I got to spend time with my best friend Meagan. My baby shower was above and beyond anything I could have asked for. It's amazing to know that my little girl is already so surrounded by love. We got everything we need and stuff we didn't even know we needed, and after many hours of work yesterday it's all been put away and organized in her nursery (pictures to come soon of that finished project--we're just waiting on one last component).

My sister and another best friend, Morgan, were able to make it in from New York just in time, too, despite the blizzard. My sister got me and Adelyn way too much stuff, including a onesie that says "My Crazy Aunt Lives in Brooklyn." Too perfect.

And spending real time with Meagan--and on this visit, since I'm, you know, pregnant, we did more sitting around and just talking than we usually get to--really reminded me of who I am and wanted to be before this whole baby thing started. She's already so successful and we've always shared the same ambition and drive, so it was great--and necessary--to voice my fears and wants and hopes for my life outside of this baby to someone who's known me since I insisted on spelling my name "Sara" (I thought dropping the "h" individualized it a bit) and had a habit of making up the most grandiose lies to impress my peers. (Meagan decided to continue to be my friend in the second grade even though I told her I had an art studio in my closet at home and a dog I'd taught how to play Nintendo.)

And the baby shower was a chance for most of my good friends to come together--even ones I hadn't seen in years.

Here's my good friend Jasmine feeling Adelyn kick and looking a little afraid.

Me in front of the landslide of gifts. I truly could not put into words how blessed and grateful and overwhelmed I am from everyone's generosity.

A group shot of the girls. From the back left: Melissa, my oldest friend (we met at Girl Scout camp the summer before the second grade), who just graduated from the University of Indiana with two degrees in Voice and English this past Saturday. Peeking her adorable head out in the back is Mary Rose, another dear friend who was an editor with me at Sidelines and now lives in Atlanta. She knit Adelyn a blanket with her name on it that I will honestly cherish forever. In the front from the left-- Swapna, who is actually sort of responsible for this whole shebang since she introduced me to Erin (Jason's sister) back in the 8th grade. Swapna is a Harvard graduate who, as it turns out, is still the exact same acerbically hilarious girl I befriended all those years ago. Next to her, Crystal. One of my best friends since freshman year of high school. And then there's Meagan, my husband friend since the second grade. On the other side of me is Jasmine. Kneeling on the floor is Erin, my sister-in-law to be and Adelyn's aunt. And, also, one of my favorite people in the world. And on the far left, a newer friend, Alisha, who just moved here from New York.

And here they are in all their unposed glory.

And last, me with my big sister and my mother. And, I guess, Adelyn's in that picture, too. Hiding behind the massive bump.

Read more...

The things that change when your life takes an unexpected turn.

Morgan, Jasmine, Me, Elise, and Erin (not pictured members of the pack--Meagan and Crystal, who couldn't make it to New York City this past summer while I interned at The Village Voice). Morgan lives in Brooklyn now. Jasmine's still in Murfreesboro. I took the leap to New York, then back to Murfreesboro, then to Nashville and now probably back to the godforsaken Boro. Elise lives in upstate New York with her aunt. Erin's still trapped in the throngs of the Boro, but keeps trying to find a way out. Meagan, my oldest friend, lives in LA.

I've spent the last five years trying to defy the odds with those girls.

We've all been friends since high school. Morgan, on the far left, has always been the one I've butted heads with the most, but also, not coincidentally, the one I see eye-to-eye most often and who shares 99% of my passions. We moved to New York together after high school to enroll at the Fashion Institute of Technology. I left. She stayed, and is now a technical designer for a bigwig fashion conglomerate. Jasmine is the youngest, eternally optimistic, carefree, an unfailing romantic. Elise will spend the rest of her life trying to figure out exactly what she wants, and she'll never give up until she finds it, and she'll never stop making you laugh. She always keeps you guessing. Erin, on the far right, is my fiance's sister. I can credit her with not only being one of my oldest friends but the person who introduced me to the love of my life. Crystal, not pictured, is hands down the funniest person I will ever meet. We went two years only talking here and there, and all of the sudden we've picked up where we left off, and are now meeting every Monday for lunch.

Meagan, seen here during her last visit to Middle Tennessee from Los Angeles about five months ago, has been my best friend since 2nd grade. That's about 14 years of friendship.

I am completely and totally aware of how corny it is, but we decided to call each other "husband friend" when we were 17, because there was just no other way to describe how intrinsically connected we were (and still are). And, yes, she's listed in my phone contacts as "Hubs." And, yes, she will remain "Hubs" after I get married. Jason will have to settle for "Jason," or "babe," or "old man," because she had the title first.

I could write a novel about each of those women. They are all unique, and wonderful, and insane, and a mess, and beautiful. And I love them. And each day that passes, I can feel them all drifting away from me a little more.

I don't know a single adult--one who's been through marriage, children, career changes, moves-- that has a tight-knit group of childhood friends that has survived. Sure, those groups exist in fiction, but rarely in reality.

When I called each of them to announce my pregnancy, not one reacted with any sort of tact or grace or composure. Each screamed. Half of them shouted "WE'RE HAVING A BABY!!??" Two of them cried. Meagan has still not told her parents, because we've been friends for so long, telling them, she says, feels like admitting she got knocked up, too.

I've known for a while now that it was all changing. I only see Meagan and Morgan once a year. Even before I got pregnant, I only saw Erin (who lives 30 minutes away and is going to be kind of related by blood to this kid) once every other week. Jasmine, once a month. Crystal, not once in two years, and now once a week, if our work schedules permit.

Elise came to visit last weekend. It was going to be the first time I'd seen her since I left New York last August.

I used to live with this girl. I saw her every morning when I woke up, every night before I went to sleep. I picked up her trash and asked her to do my makeup and let her borrow all my clothes. I listened to whichever boyfriend she had at the time's basso profondo resonate through our adjoining walls. I took her to the emergency room in the middle of the night when her stomach hurt. All I wanted was to see her for a night.

But with the way life is now, that's almost too much to ask.

On Saturday, we all planned to meet for dinner in Nashville around 8. I didn't have to be at work until 3am that day, so I could get a few hours of shut-eye in as long as I got home by 11. I knew I couldn't go with them to all the clubs afterward, because I didn't really want to have to stare my favorite alcoholic drinks in the face and say no, and also because, yeah, I'm pregnant and have to sleep.

The reservation inevitably gets changed to 9:30, because no one is ready yet and Erin has Jasmine's curling iron and has to go bring it to her so she can do her hair and Elise needs a nap, and so on. Fine. It means I won't be able to stay as long, but I'll still get to see my friend.

9:15 rolls around. Jason and I are about to walk out the door of our apartment.

I'm wearing makeup, and I spent more than 5 minutes putting it on. I've curled my hair. I'm wearing an outfit I actually planned and that doesn't include stretchy pants and flip flops. I AM WEARING HEELS. Big ones. I'm excited to have an excuse to feel like my old fashion-obsessed self, my old social self, my old surrounded-by-friends self. I don't even care that, at this point, I have to be at work in six hours and that I have not yet slept. I have a chance to be me again. Not the pregnant version of me, not the sleep-deprived, ponytail-loving zombie I've been playing for the past two months. Sarah Caitlin, she of enviable wardrobe and perky demeanor and wit.

And then my phone rings, and they tell me they haven't yet left Murfreesboro. Twenty minutes pass. They still haven't.

Before it was time for us to leave, Jason and I had been cuddled up on the couch, watching Legally Blonde 2. It is the worst movie I have ever seen.

So, now, my heels immediately stripped from my pounding feet, I sit back down on the couch. This is what my life has become, I think. Watching a movie I just admitted is the worst movie I've ever seen.

They eventually make their way to Nashville. It's 10:30 at that point. The restaurant has stopped serving dinner, and when Jason and I sit down at the table, they all have drinks in their hands and empty glasses in front of them. The smell of alcohol wafts from the table.

I hug Elise. We spend twenty minutes talking and laughing and hugging some more. And then I have to leave. It's midnight. I have to go to bed and wake up in two hours for work. They have to hit the clubs.

Were I not pregnant, I would have been out with them. I would have been a part of the countless drunken inside jokes made that night. I would have been in all the bathroom photo shoots. I would have stumbled into work without any sleep, and I probably would have been just fine.

When we get home, I wash my face, put my hair into a ponytail, and climb back into Jason's T-shirt, the same one I'd been wearing all day. Legally Blonde 2 is playing again. Jason and I get in bed, our dogs snuggle up between our legs, our 2 and a half inch baby dances inside of me and drains every last ounce of energy from my body.

This is now my life. I won't see Elise again until my wedding. I won't see Erin again until we can find a spare hour in our schedules to make the 30 minute drive to each other. I won't see Jasmine again until god knows when, because she's in the throes of a new relationship and I barely hear from her as it is. I won't see Crystal again until I can get my lazy ass off the couch and actually make one of our lunch dates. I won't see Morgan again until she visits in October, for the birth of her sister's third kid. I won't see Meagan again until she's (I hope, I pray) by my side in the hospital while I give birth to this child.

Things have, without a doubt, completely and irrevocably changed.

But lying in bed, Jason is holding my hand. His other hand is on my belly, hoping to feel the slightest indication of life. Louie is licking my toe.

I really can't ask for much more.

Read more...