Von Oy - Situation Momedy

Published 2015 by Medallion Press, Inc.,

4222 Meridian Pkwy, Suite 110, Aurora, IL 60540

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Copyright 2015 by Jenna von Oy

Cover design by James Tampa

Cover photography by Mimosa Arts

This work reflects the authors present recollections of specific experiences over a period of years. Dialogue and events have been recreated and in some cases compressed to convey the substance of what was said or what occurred. Some identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file with the Library of Congress

ISBN 9781942546023

Houston, We Have a Pregnancy

A SCENIC VIEW OF MY PAST

It was season four of The Parkers , the black sitcom on UPN on which Id been costarring since episode one, and I still felt totally out of place. I didnt fit in, and it made me insecure. You know the old Sesame Street song that went, One of these things is not like the other? I was one of these things, and I was having trouble letting that roll off my back. They could talk about things I couldnt. They had stories to tell that I couldnt relate to and special inside jokes to share that proved I wasnt one of them. I wasnt a member of their exclusive club. Every now and then, Countess Vaughn would even make a comment like, You cant possibly understand. You just havent been through the same struggles we have. Gee, thanks. Way to make a girl feel like an outcast. Way to make me feel like... the nonparent I was. What, you thought I was referring to being the only white cast member? Ha! Not a chance. Skin color never made an ounce of difference to any of us. In fact, MoNique often quipped that I wasnt Caucasian, just light-skinned.

Being the only cast member on The Parkers without a kid made me feel like a petulant child in a roomful of working adults. I was the only one who didnt have a family to go home to, who didnt know what it was to be a parent and have that special love in my heart for a tiny human being. And I wanted it desperately.

So desperately, in fact, that I started adopting dogs. Lots of them. Which led me to believe, in all my twentysomething wisdom, that I knew what it meant to be a parent. Why alienate me just because my kids had four legs instead of two? Because they barked instead of crying? Because they left their toys strewn across every room of my house and drooled all over my furniture? (Technically the latter two examples cover both dogs and children, but you get the idea.) I thought parenting puppies should at least grant me a pass for their elite clique, but no one else seemed to take that notion seriously.

Single life was sucking big-time, and my biological clock was spinning out of control. I wanted a family to ground me; I wanted to finally belong...

CUT TO...

So much for a feeling of belonging. Turns out I had no clue what to expect when I was expecting, dogs or no dogs. After all, my canine kids go to sleep when I tell them to, clean up any food that gets dropped on the floor, and were potty trained by two months old.

And wanting a family to ground me? What was I thinking? Impending mommydom made me feel like Id been sent to orbit the moon for a while, armed with only fuzzy pink slippers and a casserole dish...

But hey, at least I was finally in on all the jokes.

MY CRADLE CHRONICLES

So youre having a baby. In my experience, most instructional pregnancy books start out with this phrase or some equivalent of it. Thank you, faceless authors, for stating the obvious and handing me my sign. After peeing on a stick (or four), racing to the doctor faster than I could say biological clock, throwing out a refrigerators worth of soft cheese and deli meat, flagging every baby name site on the Internet, reading all the back issues of Parenting magazine, prematurely plotting a nursery design, and indulging my urge to tell every pregnant woman I saw that I was becoming a member of her club, Im pretty sure Id already established the fact that I was bringing a child into the world.

Or had I? Its amazing how long it took my head to catch up to my heart.

But still, So youre having a baby seemed like such an unceremonious introduction. After waiting for so many years to get knocked up (I was thirty-five when I gave birth to my first daughter, Gray), I wanted a parade in my honor, dammit! But one has to start somewhere, right? Parades take time to plan, and I suppose a float in the shape of a uterus would be a little weird. Also, So youre about to spend the next eighteen years letting a tiny human be the CEO of your life, huh? doesnt have quite the same ring to it.

In retrospect, I guess theres really no better conversation starter than the one theyve all resorted to. But how about adding a little enthusiasm to the mix so it sinks in? I know it isnt feasible to be showered in confetti or offered a congratulatory neon marquee via book pages, but some amount of excitement is nice. You know, slightly more than one might experience when ones bologna is ready at the supermarket meat counter.

How about trying this version on for size: So youre having a baby. Holy hell!

Or So youre having a baby? You did it! You got the little guy to swim upstream! Go kiss your spouse and celebrate with a pint of peanut-butter-and-chocolate ice cream, for heavens sake. You deserve it! Heres a coupon for a complimentary cream puff! I swear Id send you all a bottle of champagne right this minute if it were feasible. On second thought, perhaps Id send a nonalcoholic beverage such as sparkling apple cider, so the pediatric police dont hunt me down. Either way, consider this my written version of a celebratory rally for you. Im whistling Hail to the Chief as I type this.

Bottom line? You are a rock star, and Im out here rooting for you. If no one else remembers to tell you this important phrase, soak it up now: You can do it. You have what it takes!

If youre anything like I was, the simple words Im having a baby are taking some getting used to. I had to put that mantra on repeat in my head for a while before I began to absorb it. It takes a while to wake up and smell the breast milk! Whether youve planned to get pregnant or not, theres a sort of fuzzy disassociation that occurs at the start of it all. I promise it isnt just you whos experiencing it, and it doesnt mean you arent ready for motherhood. I felt it when I finally got pregnant too, and Id been obsessing over a baby for so long that Id even considered freezing my eggs as a twenty-fourth birthday gift to myself.

If you want to get technical about it, none of us is really ready, no matter how long weve yearned for it. There is no such thing as an instaparent. We dont blossom overnight. (No pun intended, I swear!) We all learn by trial and error, and we try to do the best we possibly can. Theres a natural inability to reconcile that a little person is growing inside us or that our lifestyle and mind-set have been altered in the blink of an eye. I think our hormones, aka our horror-mones, start to fire vulgarities at our brains when they realize the pandemonium were about to put them through for the next nine months. Well, ten months, if you want to get real about it. (Yeah, that math will get you every time.)