The Final Countdown

This post was drafted a few weeks ago, in late January. Going into the final month of my pregnancy, I found it challenging at times to get excited about it, which I think is what people expect. It can be exciting. It can also be daunting and generally exhausting. I definitely was looking forward to no longer carrying around a heavy baby in my belly, and the aches and pains that came with that!  But getting excited about having a new baby was not as accessible. 

A fun photo from our NYE party

As we draw closer to meeting baby#2, some friends, and even Steve, have asked me what I’m excited about. I found this question particularly difficult to answer in this past month. It’s not that I’m not excited, but there has been so much else to think about that my ability to get into a place of excitement has been a challenge.

At the start of the year, we grappled with the decision over our dog Porter’s end of life. Max had an exposure to COVID-19 again from a daycare buddy (thankfully, Max did not catch it). While balancing watching Max and work commitments, I was also really sick. I had a cough, headache, and congestion. I tested myself regularly, and had a PCR test - all negative.

One of our long-time roommates told us, days after Christmas, that they planned to move out in February before baby#2 comes. It was a bit of a shock and with only one other roommate, who has also expressed intentions to leave this summer, I was feeling like our home, our community was falling apart. Unsure of how or if we want to rebuild with two young kids in this space. We started thinking about whether we should stay in Oakland much longer. Big life decisions.

All of that was compounding to prevent my ability to feel excitement over having a newborn baby. All I could think about was everything mentioned above, the things we had left to do to prepare, the stuff we hadn’t ordered yet, and the general logistics of having a baby and a toddler in the same space.

I was invited to a retreat at Cosmic Honey, a magical place I’ve written about before, that was meant to bring a group of women together to share their dreams and ambitions with each other. To build a community of support. When Steve asked me if I wanted to attend, I responded in snark that I don’t have any time or space for dreams right now; I have to keep my toddler alive, try and rest and take care of myself (did I mention pregnancy sciatica on top of the nasty cold?), take care of a sick dog, and figure out how to prepare for another baby, and support Steve through his emotions surrounding the dog, our house, and the, reasonable, fears about becoming parents of two kids instead of just one.

The thing is, pregnancy happens and life keeps happening too. You have to find ways to balance it all. I kept trying to tell myself, no matter what happens in the future our family will be OK. We have a lot of privilege in this world, including financial stability and families that will always be supportive. The journey may be hard, logistically challenging and tiring with two kids, but wherever we land, it will be on our feet.

Pet Death and a Toddler

In early January, we knew it was time for us to let Porter go. He was a phantom of his former self and his health declining before us, and we knew his quality of life would not improve. We made the decision in the middle of a Thursday night, after we had woken to find Porter had soiled the carpet in our bedroom again.

Steve had worried about having to explain Porter’s death to Max. I had a sense that toddlers, or at least Max, didn’t really have that kind of attachment yet. He of course loved trying to pet Porter, and talked about him a lot, but Porter wasn’t the type of dog to form a close bond with a baby! He had tried to mostly avoid Max, unless food was around.

We arranged for a vet to come to the house on Saturday during Max’s nap. On Saturday morning, we took Porter for a good walk at the lake. He ate a fancy chicken paté cake from a bougie dog bakery in San Francisco and a steak, lovingly cooked by our roommate. During the morning and the previous day, we told Max that after his nap, Porter wouldn’t be here anymore.

Our last walk with Porter

When Max woke up, my friend Caty came over. They had offered to help take care of Max to give me and Steve whatever space we needed. I cried a little when they first came in, not wanting to be over emotional in front of Max, but still willing to show him honest emotion.

Max looked up at me and said “Porter?”

“Porter’s not here anymore, he died,” I said as matter-of-factly as I could.

“Porter. Cry.” Max responded, pointing to his eye.

“Yep, that’s why mommy’s crying,” Caty helped explain.

“I’m sad Porter is dead. It’s OK to be sad. Are you sad Max?” I asked him, to which he scrunched up his face, nodded in agreement, and then promptly got distracted by a toy.

He had a great afternoon in the park with Caty, while Steve and I sat on a bench in the sunshine just resting.

Since then, Max sometimes mentions Porter. He noticed a box of all of Porter’s belongings - bedding, clothing, walking accessories - which we quickly gave away for free on a neighborhood Facebook group. We’ll go out for a walk and he’ll ask if Porter’s coming, we just remind him that Porter won’t be coming, because he’s dead.

We chose to be very specific with Max. Not to gloss over it with phrases like “he’s sleeping” or “he’s gone away.” We tell him Porter is dead, so he is no longer here. Max hasn’t shown any obvious signs of grieving, he certainly never cried. I doubt he’ll even remember Porter by the time he’s older.

Max saves the day

Just last week, I was reading books with Max before bedtime. He leaned across me and put his head on my belly, “Baby brother,” he said. We’ve talked about baby brother before, but this was the first time he really associated it with my bulging stomach.

We proceeded to have a little conversation about the baby brother. Max asked if he would cry. I explained that he would cry, that babies cry a lot because they don’t know how to speak. Max said “hug baby brother,” to which I replied, “yes, we’ll hug baby brother.”

It was a really cute conversation about the baby that Max led. He was interested and inquisitive. That was the first time in a while I started to feel excited. I can’t wait for Max to become a big brother. I’m looking forward to him talking to the baby, showing the baby his toys, and proudly introducing people to his baby brother.

I know that there will be ups and downs. Days he might get cranky, feel left out, or jealous. There may be days I just need Max to behave and yet he just wants to run in another direction or have a tantrum. It will all be a normal and acceptable part of the process as we all adjust to our new family member.

Building Excitement

There’s now some distance from Porter’s last day with us. I cry most times when I talk to friends about it. I was able to share with a client, who also had to euthanize his senior dog early this year, without an emotional outbreak.

And I organized my list of things to do, stuff to buy. We’ve been chipping away at it. I feel like we’re ready if the baby arrives suddenly (funny how that sounds like it would be delivered by a courier or something!). I also remind myself that we can always buy something we need after the baby comes. We have diapers, we have a bed, we have a car seat, we have clothing. We’re good.

Our roommate and close friend found an amazing house to move into, they’re leaving mid-February. The house, funnily enough, is called the Fish House. So they will be leaving the Fishbowl to move to the Fish House. I think the universe opened this door. It sounds like a good move for them; bikeable distance to work, a group of engaging and kid-free adults, a beautiful garden, eco-conscious roommates, and very close to the farmers’ market. We will miss them, but we have always accepted that part of running a community house is the ebb and flow, the process of hello and goodbye with roommates.

I anticipate we’ll be learning a lot about what it takes to have a two-kid household. I’m sure we’ll be more tired than ever before. Negotiating child-free time will be more of a challenge, especially for me in the beginning. I intend to try breastfeeding again, though I won’t give myself as hard a time if it doesn’t work out again and we need to switch to formula.

Steve and I will continue to reflect on what we want out of life and for our family. To consider rebuilding the Fishbowl to the vibrant and energy-filled community it once was, or whether it’s time to move on and look for the next adventure. I’m hopeful that baby#2 will help show us the way.