Where I Use the Passive Voice, a lot

It's the night before the Night Before Xmas. The world didn't end, but it is a bit sadder these days. The wrapping is done. Gift exchanges have started. I got these. Whoa.

Parties are being attended (and we are realizing we have a disproportionate number of friends with December birthdays). Cookies were baked. More will be baked. Soups were made. More will be made. There are still two more days until Santa comes (and the gifts that I purchased for M from the UK inevitably won't) Is it just me or does this Xmas holiday feel unending?

I'm not complaining.

But amid all of this flurry and activity, we have yet to tell very many people that a baby (a real live BABY) will be joining our family in the new year. It seeps out unexpectedly in dribbles sometimes, like in a teary exchange with my friend at the YWCA women's shelter as I finally gave away my maternity clothes this week. But last night, for instance, we were around at least a dozen people we know and really, really like. From us, not a peep.

"You guys look great! What's new?!?"
us: Thanks! You too! hmm, not much, same old, same old...

"Any big plans for 2013?"
us: we'll see.....

We're not being coy. Or evasive. Mom, we're not driving you crazy on purpose. We are just still that shit-scared. Yes, we are at 26 weeks. And I thought I would pop the lid off at 25 with a big announce, but with every week I just want to wait one week more, just to be safe.

I never did tell my co-workers as planned because this week, as you might know if you're on the MB FB, we had another scare that pretty much immobilized me in worry. And really did immobilize our surrogate in pain.

Kidney stones, you are bitch.

All is well now. A stone (of gargantuan proportion, according to her awe-struck doctor) has passed. The pain has completely subsided. I'm hoping not to be on the receiving end of an "I'm having really bad lower back pain. I think I should go to the doctor" text for another few months.

**

I'm not purposefully avoiding the Newtown conversation, but I'm not really ready to talk about it either. Like Keiko, I learned from a hubby who suddenly became even more engrossed than usual with his smart phone. Like her, I joked, only to hear it wasn't a joke. Like TracyOC, I draw instant connections to all of the moms and dads who now must live without their babies, because first graders, come on, they're babies too. Beautiful running, laughing, independently thinking babies. And now they are gone.

And if you can't confidently wave goodbye to your little baby as they get on the bus in Newtown fucking Connecticut and assume they will come home, then we all truly are fucked. 

I'm not ok with the NRA reaction to this, especially since their press conference was cut short by a random multi-person shooting in our state that had our surrogate frantically texting us with worry this time. I'm not ok that I have family members with semi-automatic weapons in their house. Really, really not ok with that.

I'm not ok with how diagnoses get tossed around like they are interchangeable. I don't like the insinuations I hear connecting autism with violence, or assuming everyone on the autism spectrum has mental illness. I cringe when I hear my governor pay lip service to the need for more mental health services knowing full well (as does he) that he slashed that budget by millions and millions of dollars this year. Millions. 

I also cringe when I hear gun law reform talked about only in reference to mental illness. Because that's just what we need: another reason for someone not to seek mental health care. Here is a group seeking a more rational approach: http://smartgunlaws.org/demand-a-plan/.

And here is a group you hope you never need, but are so so glad is there when you do: http://www.compassionatefriends.org/home.aspx.