A Blithe PALATE

Pug's First Birthday (The Best Year Ever)

             

Pug turned one on Friday. 

To celebrate, we drove to down to Florida, where Ong and Ba Ngoai live, and where Grandma and Grandpa happened to be visiting.  Among my most treasured photos are those of birthdays in which I was surrounded by grandparents, siblings and cousins -- a madhouse of familial cacophony.  It was a great (if deafening) indoctrination for Pug.  Pug's first birthday was spent with both sets of grandparents, Uncle Bo and numerous extended family members including second and third cousins.  Uncle Stan very nearly made it too, but had a last minute work situation arise; Aunts Hani, Souris and Kaly were in between phases of traveling but all called to wish him a happy birthday. 

When I was growing up, my mother made all of our cakes; I could not imagine outsourcing Baby's first cake so I made one based on the baby blocks cake from my shower.  The cake was a lemon pound cake with cream cheese frosting and wrapped in colored sheets of white chocolate linen, which I use in lieu of fondant.  I find the taste of fondant revolting; the chocolate linen serves the same function, but with superior flavor.

Tonight, we were at a restaurant with Ong Ba Ngoai (Grandma and Grandpa continued on their trip and will meet up again with us in two weeks) and Uncle Bo.  Our server, noting the table littered with baby toys and homemade food laughed.  "What did you ever do before a baby?" she queried.

Pug was a little more exhausted than usual; his birthday party yesterday began at 5 pm and ran through midnight, Pug conking out an hour later than his normal 8:30 pm bedtime; nestled in his sling in my arms, he rested his head on my chest and fell asleep.

What did we do before our Puggle?

We had forgotten how to appreciate the joys of discovery.  Blasé and world weary, we have rediscovered how to enjoy long-forgotten "firsts."  The first feel of rain on a cheek.  The first taste of jam.  The purring of a cat when a chubby hand is taught to stroke her back (and her startled shriek when a chubby fist grabs hold of her tail). 

We did not know that hearts can literally melt when Baby smiles his first toothy grin.

We did not know there was such good in the world; or see a world of such danger.

We woke and slept at will; but we have accepted that the giggling we hear in the morning is the best wake up call imaginable.

We worked and earned a buck, but now with direction and purpose.  Everything is for Puggle.

Before Puggle I did not know how warm a baby's body feels when he falls asleep on your chest, or how full he makes your arms feel. 

The only other thing that overflows as much is your heart, and especially when you see your husband cuddling with your son.

I could go on and on.  When Puggle was born, my aunt Lori sent me a message:  "Welcome to true love," she wrote.

So back to the question:  what did we do before Pug came along? 

We were waiting to discover this true love in the best year ever of our lives.

The tastes you never forget.

A friend has suffered a miscarriage.  My heart aches for her.

My tongue, always tripping with flavors imbued in memory,  tastes of pumpkin butter, butternut squash ravioli, and lobster risotto.  Those were some of the dishes I ate in Charleston two years ago when I was hanging out with Sweetpea.

Before Puggle, there was Sweetpea.  Sweetpea was the first swipe at joy, a  wispy, sweet little dream that eventually became a wistful, ephemeral memory.  I wrote this after Sweetpea quietly exited my life at not-quite-14-weeks:

Every pregnancy is a hope, a moment of joy, of things that can be, of things that might be; an unformed, untouched representation of the possible.

This one had a name: Sweetpea.

Sweetpea's daddy thought Sweetpea was a girl; and so Sweetpea's mommy kept calling it a her, too. And maybe she was; we won't know because Sweetpea decided to exit stage left last Friday. It seems she was a temperamental diva: she simply refused to show up for work one day.

Last Friday, Sweetpea's heartbeat didn't show up on the fetal monitor although two weeks earlier it had been visible.

Sweetpea was our momentary bliss and likewise, our temporary heartbreak. She wasn't a missed abortion, which is what the doctors call it in the second trimester; she was a lost child. We saw her as a child long before anyone else might have considered her so; she was our baby from the day we knew of her existence. Yes, a fetus; a pair of gametes fused together; but in our hearts, our minds, and our actions, a baby to be loved, to be protected, to look forward to.

Mommy knew on Wednesday when they couldn’t find Sweetpea’s heartbeat with the Doppler that something was wrong but she wasn’t ready to acknowledge it. On Friday when they couldn’t see Sweetpea’s heartbeat on the fetal monitor, Mommy already knew, not just by looking at the technician’s face, but only because moments before coming in, she had been reading an article about miscarriages. You could say such things are coincidental and of course they are; but Mommy doesn’t believe in coincidence: she believes in predestined evolutions.

Miscarriages are odd things. Miscarriages are births not meant to be. We know so much earlier now when we are pregnant and so we know too about how exquisitely common miscarriages can be. Every miscarriage is different. They carry unique markers, identifiers like dates, moments, songs, things that associate and align themselves to that miscarriage: …the sunshine pouring through my car, warming me as I text-messaged Annie to tell her I lost Sweetpea...the spontaneous reaction of crying to assuage my grief…that strange, antiseptic smell of the hospital where I filled out pre-op paperwork.

And yesterday, I found that Sweetpea has a theme song: The second movement of the Rach 2 (Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto No. 2, Adagio Sostenudo). I think its sweep and poignancy are perfectly apt for how I feel. I could not find another piece of music that would explain the things going on in my head and my heart.

Let us say this was the body's test run, that Sweetpea, contrary to our hopes, was a stage rehearsal. There are things you see in an unpolished, unrefined rehearsal that you don't see in the finessed opening night. Unpracticed, occasionally gaffe-ridden, and tentative, sometimes tenuous and fearful. There are things you learn the first time that you didn’t know before. Moments of hilarity. Instances of discovery. I know now, for instance, that when I am pregnant, I feel queasy the first two months. I am dreadfully sleepy and will go to bed before 9:00. I get tired around 6:00 pm after a full day. I crave tuna and pickle sandwiches. I am deliriously happy and filled with hope.

How could I regret then, for one moment, any of that? How can I regret knowing early even if I lost early? How can you put a limit on joy? We should always risk ourselves, over and over. Why just a piece of ourselves? No no, there’s too much inside to be half assed about this. Life and love are sacred arts: we should not be dilettantes. I could tell you over and over this isn’t a tragedy and that it isn’t tragic and it would be true, as true as my smiles (always real) and my laughter (always ready), and my outlook (always optimistic).

But this is also true:

I am deeply sad.

Two weeks ago, we sat in my living room sharing scones and tea as she delightedly told me about her pregnancy.  I haven't eaten pumpkin butter, butternut squash ravioli or lobster risotto in several years.  I wonder when she will want to have scone and tea again? 

Yummy Clothing

Voilà for the petite chef in your life....

Before Pug arrived, my sister Hani observed the supply of baby clothes in his burgeoning closet.  "Bears, trains and trucks.  Cute, but always the same."  She had been noodling around with the idea of designing organic baby clothes for some time and Pug's arrival was the impetus to go for it.

I'm shilling, absolutely -- but I truly love the clothes from her new line of children's clothing, Fierce Hugs.  These are all organic onesies and shirts, sourced with fair trade practices and the edgy designs are commissioned from independent artists.

Naturally, there's a bent towards food-related themes:  Pug is frequently in his 100% Organic Baby t-shirt, but my particular favorite is the marmalade jar chasing the strawberry.

Use this coupon for $5 off:  D05FBPQ.

Yummy clothing...