Friends are good things to have

Jude has a buddy. That's him on the left. They just happened to match the other day. Freaking cute, right?

It's good to have friends. They're invaluable. They keep you sane when things swirl around. They make you laugh when you're blue. They keep you company when you're lonely. They prop you up when you're too tired to stand. Friends are crucial.

I miss my friends these days. They're not gone. I'm not gone. Things are just different, that's all. I think I don't get as many phone calls and hangouts because people don't know how to incorporate Melissa The Mom into social gatherings. Melissa The Mom is different. She has a kid. Does the baby come along? Does she need to make sure Matthew is home to watch the baby? Can they both come? Do they have a sitter? Does she even want to hang out since she's on baby duty and breastfeeding demands a pretty tight schedule? How do I relate to her now that she's a parent? What can I talk to her about besides the baby?

I think these are all valid questions, but I wish there could be a dialogue about them instead of this open-ended hiatus. The questions don't get asked and I feel strange calling people up and saying, "Hi, I think you might think I can't hang out or maybe I don't want to, but that's not the case." I'd love to go get a cup of coffee or catch a movie. I just need to plan a little more for it now. As long as I can either bring Jude or make sure there is enough pumped breastmilk in the fridge being social is no hassle. It's just different. Like everything else. Things are different.

Friends are good things to have. I miss mine.

The best laid plans...

I want to write about Jude's birth. It's important to me to set it to words in this space. It will be a reminder for me of what I went through and how much hard work it took to get that little bean into the world. Everyone worked hard - Jude, me, Matthew, my sister in law, my parents, our doula, our friends. To say that it didn't go as planned would be the mildest way of putting it.

I labored at home for 24 hours. Matthew and I counted contractions for a day and then called our doula. We headed to the hospital 12 hours later and had to wait for a couple of hours to be checked in because all the rooms were taken. Nothing like leaking amniotic fluid and having very painful contractions in a waiting room. Nothing like it.

Several hours later we got a labor and delivery room. My contractions got progressively more intense and I was still only dilated a couple of centimeters. It stayed that way for a few hours. My midwife talked to us about using some meds to get my cervix in better shape to get the baby out because nature was not cooperating - I was having transitional contractions but I still wasn't dilated more than a couple of centimeters. She knew we wanted a natural birth and she gave my body lots of time to see if we could overcome what obstacles stood in the way, but it wasn't working. Cervadil, then pitocin, then an epidural... all things that I was staunchly against going into the birth. My contractions were so hard and fast I was exhausted and they were afraid I would have nothing left when it finally came time to push the baby out.

After 48 hours of labor it turns out that I had a dysfunctional labor because of cervical swelling (I finally got up to 7 centimeters, but then became very swollen and got back down to 4 centimeters). At that point I was getting into a high risk category and a c-section became the only option. It was my worst nightmare before labor started. I did everything to avoid it. My midwife gave me a lot of time to see if my body could overcome, but there was no chance. She explained everything and we both cried about it. I was so upset. She was upset for me. Everyone knew it wasn't what I wanted, but we all knew that the only real goal was to get the baby out safely. If we waited much longer both of us would be in danger.

Matthew got ready to come with me to the operating room. Our midwife helped him put on the scrubs and mask. His cool checkered Vans slipped into the shoe covers and he was ready - more or less. He prepared himself to see his wife and the mother of his child get cut open on the table. He always said he thought he would have made a good doctor... but he said later that he could never detach enough from the patient to cut into them.

So I had a c-section. At 2:48 on 3/12 Jude came into the world and my surgeon passed him through a hole he cut in the drape so I could be the first one to kiss him. The surgeon said he wanted me to be able to kiss the baby first, that just because I didn't push the baby out didn't mean I wasn't the mommy. That meant so much to me. He told me we had a boy and I got to give little, slimy Jude his first smooch.

The surgery was frightening and I had a bad reaction to the anesthesia - I got the shakes very badly and couldn't control the upper half of my body. I was twitching and jerking and it was very scary. I knew I was in good hands and that Jude was in good hands, but that was the hardest experience of my life.

In the end, we got our son. That's all that counts. I came to grips with all the medical intervention and was actually grateful for it afterward when my midwife told me how close I was to something disastrous. She explained that when you hear about women in remote areas developing fistulas they most often result from the exact scenario that played out for me. Except, those women don't have medical care, so the option of a c-section doesn't exist. If I were one of them I would have likely died. Matthew just kept saying, "I know you don't want to hear this, but we can make another baby but I can't make another you. I can't go through this life without you, so this surgery is what needs to happen. Please." That was all I needed to hear.

And when Jude cried for the first time and I heard that tiny voice coming from across the OR I knew we did the right thing. I tried and Jude tried and we did our best. All that counts is that we made it through and our family is at home, happy and healthy. The poopy diapers and the sleepless nights, the spit up and the endless burpings, the coos and cries, the sore nipples and the achy belly - it's all worth it. It's all worth it and I'd do it again tomorrow if it meant my little family would be as happy as we are right now.

Life awaits. The future is here. The three of us will face it together. Hey, ho! Let's go! As Matthew says, Ramones fans are born, not made.

Where there's a Will...

I wrote our Last Will and Testament recently. It includes very little about assets (pretty easy to gloss over that part when you don't have many of them) and details about things that are so adult and mature and responsible they make my head spin. Things like who will be our child's guardian if something catastrophic were to happen to both Matthew and me? Who will be the executor of our will/estate? Who will be the secondary guardian if something catastrophic happens to the primary guardian? What do we want our advanced healthcare directive to say? When do we want artificial life support and when do we want nature to take its course (previously this was very cut & dried for me... but previously I didn't have a baby on the way - that changes everything)? These are things that are important to get into writing, even though the mere thought is extremely painful.

I wrote it out while Matthew was at a meeting and then we went over it when he got home. It's so basic, it hardly took any time at all, but it was tough to do. Our only assets as 30-somethings who rent our home are our car, M's guitars, and my retirement accounts. Not much when you add it all up. The easy part was thinking about who would get what should we both die. That took all of 5 minutes. The difficult part was typing out who would care for our child if we're both gone. The answer to that question is so obvious that it took a split second to make, but it took about half an hour and many lumps in the throat to type up.

Understatement: It's hard to think about your own mortality. It's even harder to think about not being around to raise your unborn child. Does it get heavier than that? I don't think so. Sitting down and writing up the plan for your child's care if you're dead is an awful thing to have to do. But it had to be done. No question about it. It wouldn't be right for us to skip along willy nilly and not have anything in writing - it would be irresponsible.

So, after our very adult evening spent writing up our Will we had a very adult conversation with 2 of our best friends this past weekend. Conveniently, they're married to each other, so that works out well. One was asked to be our executor and the other was asked to be the secondary guardian (in case my sister in law, the primary guardian, isn't around) with the understanding that they act as a partnership and do both as a team. We cried about it, we laughed about it, and then we ate lunch. They were honored and we were relieved and now it all feels exactly as it did before - we always assumed these friends would take care of our kid if we kicked it, but assuming and knowing are two different things. It's important to have it in writing and have the understanding out in the open.

I encourage you to write up a little something about what you'd like to happen if something awful were to happen to you even if you don't have children. It's amazing how emotions cloud family members' judgment when catastrophe comes calling and it's better for all involved to lay it out on paper. It's no picnic to do, but you'll be glad you did.

Inspiration

This is my friend, Marisa. She is amazing. (and adorable, I mean, look at that headshot!)

If you have lost a parent, or you have a friend who has, please take a moment to read this short blog entry (on Glamour.com, yes - she's a superstar) and pass along Sally's Circle to someone who could use a soft spot to land this holiday season.

Lucky # 7

7 years ago today my husband ran through the streets of TriBeCa, a thin layer of ash and dust collecting on his skin and clothes. He called out to his friends, held the hands of strangers, pulled his dog into a building to escape the cloud of smoke and ash filling the street behind him.

7 years ago everything he knew about life and about New York changed. He was one of many. Many who were lucky and many who were devastated.

We will never forget. We need no bumper sticker or tribute video to remind us.

End of an era... and era of crap.

It's over. My employment with Awful Company is finished. I am dancing in my living room as I shut down my work computer. I can't wait to pack this crap up and send it back to them.

Tonight we leave for DC to see my parents and catch The Rover's play on Sunday. This weekend will be stellar.

Artsy Friends Rule!

Look at the awesome necklace I bought from Retro Girl's Etsy shop! I had a much cuter pic taken with an actual camera, but the camera has decided to stop talking to my computer, so now we're stuck with this dumb cell phone pic.

I got super cool magnets for my fridge, too. She makes really great stuff. If you're looking for handmade gifts for yourself or your friends you should check out her shop. Her stuff is great, prices are totally affordable, she ships fast, plus she's doing this to make a little money for the fund she & her husband will use as they go through the adoption process. Exciting, no?

An aisle I don't have to walk down

(Random picture: I think Kristie & I look like we're up to something.)










The Hubba Hubba Hubby (thanks, Kristie!) and I are off to Rhode Island this weekend for Kerri's wedding. It's going to be great. She & Chris are awesome and their wedding is going to be loads of fun. She's going to be a breathtaking bride and I can't wait to see them take the same step we recently took.

It's been 3 weeks since we got married and this is the first wedding we'll go to as a married couple. It's funny, I'm so thrilled for Kerri, but I'm also a little jealous because I know how amazing my wedding day was and I wish I could relive it. This is the first of 3 weddings this summer. We're going to love going to other peoples' parties. We didn't have to plan them. We didn't have to pay for them. We get to celebrate the union of people who are fantastic together and that's always a good thing - above all else - it's a celebration of love and that's the best. Now... what to wear???

Doing the "I Quit My Job" dance

I'm not sure what the steps are, but I'm dancing up a storm here in my living room/former office. I did it. I gave my notice. My last day is next Friday. This feels so good. I have my dear friend, Martine, to thank for getting my foot in the door.

For the record, this was a photo taken on one of our last 3:00PM Dance Parties before the office closed. Yes, that's a big bottle of Russian beer. Yes, those are tiny cups. No, there's not really a disco ball in that office.

Grey Monday

(Matthew did a marvelous job with the photo I took of an old clock in Paris)

If I'm being honest (yes, that was a Simon Cowell reference) I'll say that today I'm a little bummed out. Today is just a day. Just a Monday. It's raining. It's cold. This kind of damp cold sets into my bones and chills me through until the next warm day appears.

This plain, rainy Monday holds none of the giddy anticipation of the wedding planning days. It doesn't have the buzz of the Monday we left for our honeymoon. We're not setting out for Berlin's Checkpoint Charlie tomorrow. Nothing. Today is simply today.

How is it that before the wedding that was good enough and now it seems so lackluster? I think this is what people mean when they talk about the post-wedding blues.

Silly if you think about it. I'm getting blue because I feel like there's no big something looming on my horizon to look forward to. I know that every day can't be my wedding day, and to wish it were is preposterous. Still, that doesn't stop a small part of me from longing for that excitement again. That small part is big enough to hold sway on my moon on a rainy, plain Monday.

I have much to be thankful for. I have the most loving husband and the best friends I could conjure up. Plus, "all signs point to yes" for my chances of getting an offer for the job I had a second interview for today. Those are all wonderful, bright, shining things. I'm glad to have them.

But, today is still a rainy Monday in the end. So, when my husband comes home I'll open a bottle of champagne and we'll dance around the kitchen and pretend that it's the end of a very exciting day. He's my fairytale prince, afterall. No harm in a little make-believe.

Ego = reason to know good photogs

Here is what I've learned: if you want to make yourself feel really good, just hire a pro! Our photographers for the wedding were so damn good, I can't tell you how much I appreciate them. They made me feel beautiful all day long. I mean, I clean up nice and all, but I don't look like a model. These photos make me feel like one, though. I can look back at these when I'm 80 and wrinkled to bits and remember how vibrant I looked and felt on my wedding day. I married the most amazing man I know and we both looked smashing. Everyone looked smashing. We honestly had the most beautiful wedding in every way. In look, in sentiment, in the vibe of the room, everything was filled with a beauty I didn't expect.

The most spectacular library you could imagine. These are our nearest and dearest... they call came together for us and thinking back on it makes my eyes tear up. People came from all over just for us. Amazing.

Listening to the toasts given by our best man and maid of honor. To say we were grateful and touched more deeply than we ever thought possible would still leave room for more praise for those 2 wonderful people.

P.S. I did my hair & makeup in 30 minutes. I was pretty proud of myself.

Paris, nous sommes pretes!

** Welcome to the first installment of the honeymoon make-up posts. Each was jotted down in one form or another - on a napkin at the airport, in a notebook in Paris, in the back of guide book in Prague, on a postcard in Berlin... **

We leave tonight. We head to Europe. 10 days of nothing but each other, peppered with bits of history (or lots of it, if we stay true to our typical nerdy selves) and varying degrees of embarrassing language blunders. It's going to be amazing. We'll be in Paris, Prague, and Berlin; each for 3 nights. Getting to spend some time alone is going to be wonderful, but I already know we'll miss our friends and be glad to get back to Brooklyn when it's over. Besides, the Dukester will be hard to be away from for a week and a half.

I can only imagine what this honeymoon will be like. Matthew is a super romantic guy anyway, so putting him in Europe is like giving his romantic tendencies a steroid. Add the fact that we just got married to the mix and our entire trip will probably be shrouded in a happy cloud of soft-focus mushiness. I really am the luckiest woman alive.




(I mean, look at how goofy I get when I look at this man! This is the first of the wedding photos I'll post courtesy of the awesome photographers from Beautiful Union Portraits.)

We did it

(image courtesy of Beautiful Union Portraits)


We're married. I'm a wife. He's a husband. It's the best.

I was told by more guests than I can count that it was the best wedding they'd ever been to and I couldn't agree more. Every aspect of our night was perfect. I want to document many of those things here, but it will need to wait until I am a little more coherent and awake. It's been an absolute whirlwind for 36 hours and I need a nap more than anything else at this point.

What I can tell you, despite my state of partial consciousness, is that I would not have changed a single thing. It was my perfect wedding. He is my perfect husband. I'm going to do my best to be his perfect wife from here on out. I couldn't ask for more.

I will share so much more a little later. Here's a preview: Matthew told me he had a surprise for me. He refused to give me a clue further than "it has something to do with a fat guy named David". I had no idea what he was cooking up. Halfway through our reception our band gave him the mic, handed him a guitar, and he surprised me with the most beautiful rendition of "Our House" by CSN&Y with 2 of our best friends singing harmony and playing 2nd guitar. To say there wasn't a dry house in the place would be an understatement.

The big day

** I must confess that I've written this in advance to be posted today because I know I'll have so many things to do. **

Today's the day. Today I marry the most amazing person I know. Matthew, my love, my partner, my cool breeze, my sunshine.

Thank you to all of you who have visited me in this space for all these years and wished me well. I appreciate the kinds words in good times and in bad more than you probably know. Sometimes planning this wedding was so stressful and to alleviate some of the strain I'd go back and read a few of the amazing things you've said to me in the past. You've been so supportive, a real community. You've helped me though some rough spots and you've cheered me on through the triumphs.

Today is a big day. My life will never be the same. I'll have an official stamp on the partnership I've been half of for 2 years now. I'll even have a different last name! I couldn't be happier to be Matthew's wife.

I'll probably post all my honeymoon posts when we get back, so if you don't see any movement in this space don't be alarmed. I'll be back in 12 days with stories to tell and photos to share. I'll miss you!

Today

(image courtesy of Beautiful Union Portraits)

It's here. Today's the day. I couldn't be happier. I've never been more thrilled in my life.

I have to get to the floral district in the city before the crowds come out, but before I go and run around like a madwoman until 7:00 rolls around and I walk down that aisle... I wanted to share a photo from last night's rehearsal dinner. Our photographers are amazing. Man, I love having talented friends!

Our dinner was beyond delicious and we had the most fun. About 15 of our nearest and dearest were there (the menu and our favorite bistro warrant their own post when we get back from our honeymoon) and we ended up moving the party back to our place, where 20 of us partied it up until about 1AM. I am a sleepy child this morning. Coffee is a must. Pre-marital coffee.

Practice makes perfect

Tomorrow I get married. Tonight we have a rehearsal dinner at our favorite little French bistro! It's going to be great. Close friends and family will be there. Our relatives who travelled will get to meet Philippe and experience some of his crazy Parisian outbursts for themselves. It's going to be a culture clash and I can't wait to watch it all happen. Between the Rhode Island contingent and the Pennsylvania crew we're going to have a colorful bunch. Not to mention the California, Vermont, and Virginia factions. Oy vey, we're gonna have stories.

Thank goodness for wine. Lots of wine. Lots of good, French wine.

Last-minute reprieve!

(<-- my bro and my dad)

I have now become one of those 30 year old women who have been saved in one financial way or another by their father. I never thought it would happen to me. I'm not the kind of girl who discusses my finances with my parents... I'm an adult. We severed financial ties long ago and it's a good thing in my book.

So, when I called my dad on Friday afternoon and told him I needed to vent I was not expecting him to swoop in with a superhero getup and save the day. But he did. See, he had his performance review around the same time I had mine. His was equally filled with bullshit - it always is. In fact, his nickname around the store last year was Mr. Meets Expectations because of his constant middle of the road reviews no matter how well the store is performing. Anyway, we had previously talked about the bonus I was scheduled to get and how it was going to pay for the catering and all that. I told him I needed to vent about how I didn't get it on time and now I was screwed and Matthew was going to have to ask his crazy cokehead boss to front us the cash until my payout came through. I was talking very fast, my voice was loud, I was angry, he was quietly listening... and then I cracked. The tears started. I hate crying in front of my dad. He's not good with emotion. It makes him uncomfortable. His standard response to tears is, "You are out of control right now." I was out of control while I sobbed and told him I was very worried and let down and how those people are assholes and I need a new job and... and... and...

"Missy, (yes, that's my nickname that I can't seem to shake no matter how hard I try, stop laughing - the only people who are allowed to call me that are my family and my friends from high school, The Rover included) don't worry. I'll get you the money. The wedding will go off without a hitch. Don't you worry. It will be OK." When those words came out of his mouth I was shocked. Not shocked because my parents aren't kind people with generous hearts, but because I know my folks don't have that kind of money lying around. Turns out he had just gotten an equity loan to do some fixer-upper stuff around the house and he had some dough at his disposal. He wasn't going to start the repairs until after the wedding anyway, so he can loan me the money without it affecting him much at all.

The timing couldn't be more perfect. I'm amazed. You know what else is amazing? 3 different friends stepped forward of their own accord and offered to lend us their tax returns, no questions asked. I must say, I feel very loved and cared for. We are so fortunate. We have wonderful parents and unbelievable friends. Heroic acts of generosity have been shown to us in a pretty scary time... I know I will not soon forget how hopeless I felt only to be buoyed by our friends and family at a moment's notice.

Today I am grateful and humbled and full of joy. Tears are happy ones today. You don't think just because things are going well I'd stop crying, do you? *wink*

A Good Day

Today is Matthew's birthday. He's 31. He says it feels remarkably like 30. We met 2 years ago today. We will be married in less than 3 weeks. I'm so proud of him and I'm grateful that we get to spend our lives together.

We went to the Brooklyn Museum of Art (a whopping 3 blocks from our apartment and one of the best museums in the world). They have an exhibit of Takashi Murakami's work that we were planning to see, but when the 7 of us got there we found out there was a $10 admission fee for the exhibit and half of the group are starving artists... so $10 to see some Japanese pop art wasn't in the cards. Instead, we made modest donations to the museum and visited portions of the main collection.

My favorite was the current exhibits in the Sackler Gallery for Feminist Art. Normally, I'm not a contemporary art fan. Moreover, I'm never a fan of labels other than nationality or time period. Labeling something as "feminist art" makes me crazy and I shy away from galleries that promote that kind of categorization. It seems to counter intuitive to me. Anyway, I was very pleasantly surprised to have found not only 2 contemporary artists I can stand behind 100%, but one in particular that really spoke to me in ways I didn't expect. The Judy Chicago installation of The Dinner Party is amazing, and you should see it if you can. But, it was Ghada Amer who really stopped me in my tracks today.

She's an Egyptian-born, French-raised, New York-living artist who uses fabric, embroidery, text, and paint to create pieces that speak to marginalization of women and themes of typical gender roles. Pretty amazing stuff. If you're near Brooklyn you should check out her work. My favorite piece was a series of 4 panels, each painted a muted shade of CMYK, arranged in a grid, with intricate embroidery of the definitions of 4 words in Arabic - including freedom and fear, I believe.

Side Ball

** Scribbled in my notebook **

I am not a prude. I repeat: I am not a prude.

Just wanted to get that out there. In fact, I'm pretty darn open and typically not embarrassed by subjects of a sexual nature. Nudity doesn't really phase me, it's the human body which is a beautiful thing, so there's no need to be all weird about it. Remember when Ashcroft had the female Justice statue covered in the Great Hall because one breast was exposed? LAME.

PDA doesn't bother me, I think people who love each other should be able to be affectionate in public without being gross (this does not apply to disgusting displays of tongue kissing across the dinner table in a restaurant or to teenagers at the bus stop with groping hands - eww, I don't need to see that). Kisses and sweet displays of affection aren't things that disturb me.

I have no problem with scenes of a sexual nature on television - this is part of life, and if a child is up at 10PM watching 2 people get it on or seeing partial nudity then it's either high time to talk to that kid about sex or time to send them to bed... either way, that's a parental responsibility and the sexual content isn't the thing to blame.

I believe people should be allowed to do whatever they want in their own bedrooms, provided the parties involved are consenting adults. I'm sure some of my bedroom habits would turn heads and I'm perfectly content to leave the government and anyone else who wants to stick their nose in it out in the cold.

So, the question is this: why was I so utterly shocked and freaked out when at the end of the comedy show last night the friend of a friend and his sketch partner came back onstage with no pants on, holding their bits in their hands, thanking everyone for coming and asking us to stick around for the next act? Let me set the scene for you - the sketch was based on 2 guys at a bar. Guy #1 had to pee, they both went to the loo. Guy #1 pees, Guy #2 says, "OK, let's get back out there!". Guy #1 realizes Guy #2 (his best friend) doesn't want to pee in front of him. Hilarity ensues. As a test of their friendship and manliness Guy #1 challenges Guy #2 to go into the stall with him and stand there with their pants off for 5 minutes to show Guy #2 that there's nothing wrong with letting your best friend see you naked. While they're in there someone steals their jeans, which they'd hung over the door. This was all taking place backstage and we were listening to the audio... the guys then emerged at the end of the sketch looking just as they did when they left the stage, but sans pants... and undies, holding their twigs & berries in their hands.

The whole audience erupted in laughter and my friends and I kept looking at each other, eyes wide as dinner plates, not believing these 2 dudes were essentially half naked in front of us. As we were leaving the theatre, my friend turned to me and said, "I don't know about you, but I definitely saw some side ball. I've never seen that much of Gregor before!" Side ball. My new favorite term.

TGIF? *yawn*

** Scribbled in my notebook **

Why is it that Friday nights are so hard? It seems that no matter what my plans are, who I'm with, where I am, Friday night around 11:00 is my absolute breaking point. I cannot stay up any later, I get cranky, my feet start to hurt, I just want to be home in bed. I anticipate that same reaction tonight. I'm on the train headed into the city to see a friend of a friend's comedy sketch show at Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre... you might recognize the name since it's where most SNL cast members cut their teeth before the big show. Plus, my personal hero, Amy Poehler, still performs there.

Anyway, it's funny how it's 5:45 and I'm already thinking about how tired I'm going to be in 6 hours. Every time I'm out with friends on a Friday night we all mention how Fridays are hard. We've worked the whole week, we're not 21 with absolutely no need for sleep anymore. Ugh. We'll see how long I last tonight.