Spider Woman (or, Evidence That I May Have Gone Off the Deep End)

We had a terrible mosquito problem this year -- they were eating all of us alive. So we purposely left up several spider webs that appeared on our small front porch. Spiders are good luck, anyway. We rarely saw the actual spiders, but we saw plenty of evidence of their effectiveness in the form of trapped bloodsuckers.

Last week, this appeared.


It's a spider egg sac. My first instinct was to remove it -- to toss those suckers as far away from the house as possible. Then I looked more closely, and saw the spider.

She was never openly visible in her web before the egg sacs appeared. Now she was perched just below her sacs, guarding them. I decided to watch for a few days.

The next night I saw her spinning one more little bubble below the five pictured. The night after that, she started encasing all six bubbles in a thicker cocoon. Every time I passed the web, she sat vigil under her eggs.

I started thinking about Charlotte's Web -- in the book, Charlotte died after the eggs hatched. I did some research -- for some, but not all, spiders, egg-laying is their last major act.

And this is when Crazy came to town. I started relating to the spider. She'll do anything to keep her eggs safe, I thought. She won't leave them, even though this places her out in the open where creatures like me come stare at her. This could be her last shot.

There is no way I will be the one to kill her babies.

This may mean that we'll soon be overrun by tiny spiders. If they keep to themselves, we'll all be fine. If they start messing with my baby, that's another story.

Never a Sure Thing

I went through a long period in my 20s when there was literally zero family/personal tragedy. The worst things that happened to me from around age 21-27 involved relationship breakups. The most stress I experienced was typically related to apartment moves. Nobody in my extended family died. Nobody got sick, had major surgery, lost a limb, lost a house, lost a baby, got divorced... nothing. Things were very quiet in the "major life change" department. I'd been at my job for more than 5 years. I took the calm for granted.

As I left my office building on September 10, 2001, I walked across the street and past the World Trade Center for what would be the last time, although I didn't know it. As usual, I recognized a lot of the same people walking near me. I was on the same schedule with these strangers and saw many of them daily. "My life is like Groundhog Day," I thought. "Every day is the same. Something needs to change."

I really did think that. Of course, you know where this is going.

Change came in relentless waves after 9/11. I never returned to that office. After six months of professional limbo working in New Jersey with my colleagues at an alternate "temporary" site, I resigned and headed to DC for grad school and a job at a university that offered an uncompetitive salary and free graduate classes.

The drama and change continued. My aunt and then my grandma died. Steve and I got married. My dad had hip surgery. I finished grad school and found a new job. My mom had surgery on her vertebra. Steve went to Iraq for six months. My uncle died. Steve and I started trying to have a baby and had two losses right off the bat. Steve's dad began descending deeper into chronic illness. In the last year, two of my real-life friends lost their babies, born too early to survive. I finally made it to the second trimester and ended up in the hospital with preterm labor for 9 weeks. Lexie was born 10 weeks early.

I've wanted to ask someone -- why does this shit happen? Why do babies die? Why did nearly 3,000 people die on the whim of some sick asshole on the other side of the world? But there is no "why." You can get into specific causes, but the big-picture "why" -- it doesn't exist.

What this has taught me is that nothing is a sure thing. I didn't truly understand this before having some real adversity. I think it's good in some ways that I know this now, instead of sailing through life thinking it's a big deal if someone dents my car in the garage or the movers break my mirror. This knowledge can also be bad, though -- as in my earlier aversion to buying Lexie's wardrobe too far ahead. It's irrational. Chances are, now, she'll be alright. But who knows -- the world could end tomorrow. As long as we go together, I think I'd be ok with that.

I really don't have any words of wisdom about this day. I'll be remembering the friends I spent that Tuesday morning with, remembering the ashes and singed papers floating down to the ground in Brooklyn, remembering the acrid smell, remembering how the gorgeous September weather seemed all wrong for that day, remembering the 13 worried messages I had on my machine when I got home after everything happened. Remembering waking up the next morning to a moment of peace before the memories flooded back like a punch in the stomach. Remembering the fat plume of smoke that rose from lower Manhattan for weeks afterward.

Remembering how we thought things would never be the same.

Gratuitous Giggling Video

We had Lexie baptized last week, and with the resulting deluge of family, we have been very busy. But we did have time to take this video of Lexie giggling in her pajamas.



Every time I watch this video, I can't believe how lucky we are.

Uncertainty

At a department store recently, I thought about buying some sale clothes for next summer for Lexie. I found myself hesitating, in the same way I hesitated when I didn't want to buy maternity clothes too early, and when I didn't want to buy baby clothes until she actually arrived.

And I realized: I still am not 100% certain that she's here to stay. She's been in fairly good health, and gaining weight in spite of GI problems. There's no reason to think she's not going to make it at this point. But I still fear SIDS, and now swine flu lurks just over the horizon. I'm sure I'm not alone in my concern for my child, even among parents of full-term babies, but I do think preemie parents have stared a lot of serious, life-threatening hazards in the face, and it heightens our awareness of all that could happen.

I'm not sure when I'll feel secure that Lexie's going to be okay.

The first time I was pregnant, I purchased a onesie for the baby that never was. It was a silly little thing I'd seen years earlier and I was excited to buy it for our baby. After that first miscarriage, I tossed the onesie in the back of a closet, where it stayed for more than two years. Every once in a while I'd come across it, but I'd return it to the depths of the closet and try not to think about it. I hated having that reminder of how certain and happy we had been, and how little we knew about how long the journey to parenthood would be.

A few weeks ago I finally broke out that onesie and tried it on little Lexie. It was already kind of small, but I did get one picture.



She had just the right Jennifer Grey look here, too.

A Study in Friday Night Economics

Just Married:
Out to a leisurely dinner for delicious sushi and cocktails! $80-$100

Married With Dog, So We Have to Get Home:
Takeout sushi. $55

Expecting a Baby:
Takeout from local grill. $35

Baby Is Home, Mom's Still on Paid Maternity Leave:
Organic whole wheat Greek takeout pizza. $25

Mom's Leave Becomes Unpaid:
Five dollar footlongs: $10.50 incl tax

I get my first paycheck next Friday. Maybe we'll upgrade back to the pizza.

A Year's Journey

Exactly one year ago, in a North Carolina beach cottage, we found out Lexie was coming. It was our third positive home pregnancy test, so we greeted the news with neither excitement (as we did the first time) nor with cautious optimism (as we did the second time). By this time, we knew about my unicornuate uterus and understood the possible complications. So we greeted the news of our third pregnancy with equal parts hope and fear.

The next morning we were scheduled to drive back to Virginia. Before we left, I sat on the steps to the beach for a long time trying to set my head straight. Looking at the ocean always helps give me perspective, reminding me of my tiny place in this big world. At the time, I'd wished I could know what lay ahead.

It's probably better that I didn't know what we'd contend with through the pregnancy. At least in the early days, I had only my usual worry of miscarriage, and a few weeks of my second trimester were practically a cakewalk. Then it all came crashing down with 9 weeks of preterm labor in the hospital and a baby born 10 weeks too early.

But if I could send a message back to myself a year ago, maybe I'd just tell her this: It's going to be a bad, bumpy ride, and you're going to be more terrified than you've ever been. It will be the hardest thing you've done in your life.

But in the end, it will be worth it.

Back to (Paid) Work

On Monday I head back to work. I like my job, and I am not exactly dreading my return. I know things will be different, because I'll be highly motivated to get my work done and get the heck home -- not as much socializing with coworkers, and I might be calling in to (versus attending in person) those late-afternoon meetings that can stretch into the dinner hour. I do want to go back to work. But I wish I could have more time with Lexie, too. And my full salary. A girl can dream...

We have hired a great professional nanny for Lexie while we're at work. Because of Lexie's prematurity and resulting weak immune system, she can't go to daycare like a regular kid. I've spent much of today trying to iron out our nanny tax situation. Suffice it to say I now feel more sympathetic to those who don't bother to pay their nanny taxes. It's not easy to figure out. But we are doing the right thing and staying above the law.

The nanny has been here all week, and I've been in and out. It's kind of awkward and I keep wanting to swoop in and gather up my little baby when she cries (like right now), but intellectually I know that's not the right thing to do. I know Lexie will be better off with a nanny than in daycare, because she'll get constant one-on-one attention, but I might be feeling just a little bit jealous of the nanny.

We'll see how it goes.