My BabyCenter pregnancy app told me today that my due date is in 120 days. Can you believe that? I remember when it was closer to 200 days, and I wondered if time would ever pass by, if I would EVER be close to meeting this little man in my belly, and now it’s only 120 days! That feels so soon.

It’s crazy to think that if all goes well, I’ll be a Mama to a little boy in 120 days or less (or more, I suppose, if the baby is pokey). My Mom and I have been taking inventory of the baby clothes that we’ve purchased thus far. I’ve also been hard at work making lists of things to look for and buy before the baby arrives. My baby registries have been consistently updated since January. My husband and I plan to purchase the rest of our cloth diapers in March. We’ve purchased adorable fabric that my Mom will fashion into crib sheets. We’ve selected a paint color for the baby’s changing table/dresser. My husband and I have lovingly selected a name for our little boy.

In other words, plans are a-flowin’ around these parts, and yet, what I’m finding is that in spite of all of this baby-prep that I’ve been immersing myself in for the past few months, I still feel like me, the authentic me that exists and thrives outside of the preparation I’ve been doing to take on the role of Mama. And even more so, I feel exhilarated – not frightened - by the way in which my selfhood will change when I meet my little man for the first time.

How is it possible to retain one’s selfhood when facing such a monumental life change as becoming a mother? I often wonder that, especially when I overhear conversations, or read blog posts, or learn from other Mama’s, who say that their lives have been completely and meaningfully altered with the arrival of their little child, yet they still feel inherently like their true selves. Some Mama’s have even revealed that in taking on the role of Mama, they are able to reclaim more of their authentic self; they are able to tap into an authentic selfhood that they never knew existed.

Yet, in order to trust this notion, in order to believe all of these experienced Mama’s, all I need to think about is the me that existed before my marriage to Jordan, as compared to the me that exists today, 1.5 years (and counting) later. I still feel like me, the Sara that is overly dramatic, a bit of a worrier, a bit selfish, but is also compassionate, concerned, loving and passionate. However, in looking back on my first year or so of marriage, I now feel a new sense of identity that has shaped me as I’ve taken on the role of wife. I’m now a little bit more focused on viewing my life as a journey, a marathon, a joint effort between my husband and I that is focused on achieving our dreams and goals. Since I’ve been married, I’m more aware of and deeply appreciative of the way in which my husband loves and cares for me (especially after my bout with morning sickness). In other words, I feel like my selfhood has changed as I’ve become a wife because I’m more able to step outside of my dramatic, selfish self to appreciate what it means to be loved and to love someone else in such a life-altering way.

While up until now, taking on the role of wife has been the most life-altering change I’ve made in terms of chasing after my authentic self, I think often about the way in which my heart will expand and grow five times its size (much like the Grinch!) upon meeting my little man for the first time. Sure, I know that there will be ways in which I will change that will seem frustrating – I will (most likely) worry more – even though that seems impossible for a worrier like me; I know that I will feel the desperation and the electricity of loving someone so much because he came from me, and from my husband; I know that I will endure frustrating disappointments along with lightning moments of success as I constantly judge myself as a Mama against the barometer of what a good mother should be, in my mind.

Yet, I know and trust that for mothers everywhere, becoming a Mama doesn’t mean that we lose ourselves, that we lose our quirks, our dreams, our goals, ourselves. Sure, we change; our selfhood changes upon encountering and fulfilling such a life-altering role as mothers. But, I have to believe that for all mothers, if we all were so meaningfully and irrevocably changed, so much so that we didn’t even recognize ourselves anymore, and if this change wasn’t a powerfully good thing, I know that mothers wouldn’t desire to become mothers; I know that this desire that I felt (and feel) in my heart to become a Mama wouldn’t persist in such a powerful way. In other words, I know that God’s masterful plan – the plan that has blessed me with the opportunity to be a Mama in the first place – includes a plan for a meaningful nurturing of who I am now, my authentic self as it currently stands, as well as a plan for the life-changing alteration of who I will become as I take on the Mama role.

It’s a crazy thing to be on the cusp of, motherhood. When I was engaged and planning my wedding, Jordan and I read a book on questions to ask and answer as a couple on the cusp of marriage. We also took part in a premarital counseling session with our pastor, my Uncle Rick. Both were so helpful to Jordan and I, both individually and as a couple, that I knew that I wanted to take the time to think intelligently and critically throughout my pregnancy about what kind of mother I wanted to be.

One of the activities that Jordan and I have done since we were married is on every New Year’s Eve, we recap the previous year, and we plan and dream for the year ahead. It’s one of my most favorite things to do every holiday season, and I think that both Jordan and I are surprised at how far we’ve come each year in achieving our personal and shared goals. This year was no different – we were so excited and blessed to be expecting a child, and we were on the cusp of one of the most important roles of our lives: parents. During our year-end discussion around New Year’s 2011, Jordan and I discussed not only what we want to achieve personally in 2012, but also what we want our family to look like, and how we see ourselves developing as parents.

When thinking about what kind of parents we want to be, we discussed how we want to be wholly supportive of our children’s aspirations, which, to us, means that we want to encourage them to dream and to take part in activities that interest them. We discussed how important it is for our family that I am able to be at home with our child (and with any future children, should we be blessed with such an opportunity) as long as it is financially feasible to do so. We discussed our educational priorities for our children, especially in terms of the Montessori philosophy that we want to introduce to our child from birth on. We also want to do our best to educate our children on what is often considered to be the “dangerous” parts of life (i.e. drugs, alcohol) by having frank and honest discussions with them regarding the importance of their choices and the lasting impact of the decisions that they make as young adults.

I have a BabyCenter pregnancy app on my phone, and what I love about this app is that it not only lets me know what is going on with my baby boy in my belly, but it also asks me critical questions to help me think about what it will mean to be a Mama after our little man arrives. All I know now about motherhood (apart from a few basic care-taking practices) is that I want my little boy to know that I am in love with him already (that I’ve been in love with him before we even conceived him), and the way in which I’ve been able to show that and channel that feeling throughout my entire pregnancy (and even before we conceived our child!) is by writing letters to my son. It’s a secret project that I’ve been working on (I’ve only shared my letters with Jordan and with my Mom), and I’m so excited to continue writing to our little man throughout the rest of my pregnancy and throughout his life. I can’t wait to give these letters to my son someday.

While it can be impossible to predict what motherhood will be like for me, I know that it’s been worth my time to think intelligently about what kind of mother I want to be. I know that I have a Type-A personality, and while my personality type helps to explain my hyper-active planning tendencies regarding our efforts to get ready for the baby in terms of clothing and baby gear, I hope that with motherhood, I am able to follow the lead of my baby boy and model my role as a mother around his needs.

Can’t believe I’m almost halfway through my pregnancy – how exciting (and nerve-wracking at the same time – holy cow, the baby will be here soon!). I’m so anxious for the 21/22 week mark, as we will likely be able to learn whether we are carrying a baby girl or a baby boy during that time frame. We can’t wait to find out!

Before we conceived a child, Jordan and I had discussed the idea of not planning to find out the gender of the baby. Jordan was a big proponent of this plan especially, since he loves the idea of being surprised. But as we began trying for a baby, I couldn’t help but express my desire to find out the gender for practical/logistical/planning reasons – I’m just too much of a Type-A personality not to find out! Luckily, I have an understanding husband who was willing to go with whatever I decided, so we ultimately chose to find out the gender of our child.

A week or so ago, I had a lot of anxiety associated with finding out the gender of our baby – particularly if we learned that our baby is a boy – because we hadn’t yet finalized our chosen boy’s name. A baby girl’s name came relatively easy – we have had long-time favorites (since maybe March or April of 2011!) that we love and that we’ve kept secret, so choosing a first and middle name for a baby girl was comparatively easy. After many a discussion, Jordan and I had finally selected a first name for a baby boy, but as of a week ago, we still had no middle name and no good ideas. However, the other day, I suggested a name that I’ve loved for awhile as a middle name possibility, and Jordan really liked it, so that’s that – we have our first and middle baby names selected, for both girl and boy! Now I couldn’t be more excited to find out what we’re having, simply because I feel more prepared name-wise. :)

Wondering why we are keeping our baby names secret until the baby arrives? Truthfully, we never thought we would! A few of our friends decided to keep their chosen baby name secret when they were expecting their children, and we appreciated that A) the couple had a fun, exciting secret that they were able to share between the two of them for the entire pregnancy, and B) by keeping the name secret, the couple was able to sidestep hearing any opinions (at least ahead of time) on their chosen baby name. What Jordan and I have found since deciding to keep our baby names secret is that it’s SO fun to keep the baby’s name a secret from our friends and family (literally, no one else knows except for us – well, and Wyatt the dog) because it makes the pregnancy seem so much more personal and private for us. We’ve also discovered that it’s empowering to select a name for our child that we love, that we believe in, and that we feel has significance, and because we’re keeping our chosen names secret, we will be able to present the name that we have chosen for our child in a way that emphasizes our reasoning for choosing the name! We love the idea of making a video to announce the baby’s name and the significance behind our choice (we will make the movie a month or so before the birth and we will wait until shortly after the birth to release the video). Lastly, we also love the fact that no one can offer opinions (positive or negative) on our chosen names; truthfully, we love our names so much that it would suck to hear negative opinions at all, but especially prior to the arrival of our baby. It seems like a good idea to avoid any second-guessing of our choices!

I’ll keep you posted on any new developments as my pregnancy continues – we have another prenatal appointment this week, and we’re excited to be nearing the halfway point!

In the fall of 2008, I enrolled in a program called “Writing for Social Change,” which was coordinated by the Higher Education Consortium for Urban Affairs (HECUA). Participating in this program changed my life in a significant and palpable way, and I attribute my desire to create change in the world around me to my time in HECUA.

I recently stumbled upon a short description that I had written shortly after returning from HECUA about the high number of construction sites located near my townhome with Jordan in Sioux Falls. I wanted to share this with you today to encourage all of you to look at the world around you with a critical, poetic eye!

Dirt amasses in my backyard in hills and pools like a dried mudslide. Slender wooden sticks with orange flags perched atop them puncture the mud’s surface, revealing little roots and worms and life. These pennants, carrot in hue in their plastic nature, join together to mark plots of land. Flags appear in plot after plot after plot, never quite ceasing, even once the pink horizon deepens and sinks into the syrupy darkness of the sludge. This is development. What was once fields with switchgrass, dandelions, thistles and sunflowers is now just…mud. It’s happening everywhere this time of year – actions of expansion. It’s apparent, from the sunflowers that still wave their yellowed petals to the tune of the wind, that development nearly always requires destruction. Yet, in this sense, such a thing struggles to mark progress at all when demolition precedes it. The small plot of wild sunflowers, which dance in the muddy openness on the north side of the land, have betrayed the city’s efforts to “improve the quality of life offered in rental properties,” for they function to provide a solitary swatch of evidence as to the damage inflicted on the land’s natural habitat to provide such advancement in apartment living. As I stand staring into the dark, muddy pools of nothingness that abut my deck, I consider the emptiness of the land. Then, as I turn around to head back inside, my eyes catch a small slice of land, just to the east of my overlook. In the midst of the opal-hued muck, fragments of green assemble as if called to fight their way through the sticky trenches of the mud. I think to myself, Maybe there’s evidence of progress here after all.

{Photo by me}

Before Jordan and I were married last year, I had a major conflict of identity that came from a rather unexpected source: a rubber stamp.

For our wedding, Jordan and I had a wishing tree, which was basically a few manzanita branches (from here) arranged in a flower pot. Jordan and I asked guests to write down their wishes for our marriage on cardstock and then hang the wishes on the branches of the tree. It ended up being a creative way for our guests to wish us well. However, when I was conceptualizing how the wishing tree would come together, I never imagined that it would be the source of a name-change-related breakdown for me.

In order to decorate the cardstock, I commissioned a local stamp shop to make a custom rubber stamp for me, which said the following phrase: “Wishes for the Mr. and Mrs.” Cute, right? That’s what I thought, too; I saw the phrase somewhere in the blogosphere, and I promptly ordered the stamp. I then purchased the manzanita branches, the flower pot, the cardstock and the ink for the stamp, and I didn’t think anything of it until the stamp came in a week or two later.

It was around that time that I read this post (and then this post) on A Practical Wedding. And truthfully, these posts (together with a post that I can’t seem to track down on Project Subrosa on name-changing and the Ms. vs. Mrs. debate – this post is similar, though with decidedly less sass – which is a bummer, because I love me some sass)…well, they threw me big time. I had never thought about changing my name before…I had never thought about the fact that I had a choice of whether or not to take my husband’s last name. What’s more is that I had thought much less about which choice was right for me; I always thought that I would take my husband’s name, because that is what women do in my family, and in my state (South Dakota). And now, because I ordered a stupid six-dollar stamp that said “Mrs.” on it, I felt like my choice between Ms. and Mrs., and my birth name, was being made for me.

So I cried. A lot. I cried to my mother, to my guy (now my husband), and I cried even more when re-reading the posts and the comments on APW and Project Subrosa. I felt like I had failed my cultural position as a woman by rejecting the rights available to my beloved-yet-too-often-marginalized womanhood. [Big stuff.] So, I hemmed and hawed over whether or not to use the stamp, because gosh darnit, I paid for it, and I wasn’t about to throw money out the window, but then again, it was only six dollars, and was six dollars worth chucking my oh-my-gosh-I-guess-I-am-a-feminist-wow-this-is-strange-I-didn’t-notice-this-before-now self out the window? Was six dollars worth me compromising my identity as a woman, my identity as me, as Sara?

In the end, it was my mother who helped me the most. She said that my identity as a wife, my identity as a woman, didn’t have to be determined by a stamp. She rationalized that while the majority of our wedding guests would call me “Mrs.” on our wedding day, as a cutesy ode to my newly married status, that after the wedding, I was able to stipulate whatever name I wanted for myself, and that people would either abide by my wishes, or they wouldn’t. She cautioned that in our area of the United States, it isn’t common for women to keep their birth name [which is true], so I had to brace myself for many a mailing/solicitation/family Christmas letter/invitation error. I had to be okay with mistakes.

Fast-forward to a few weeks before our wedding day. The scene: The Clerk of Courts office in our home state of South Dakota. The action: Jordan and I, standing, awkwardly, nervously, in front of a window, applying for our marriage license. As I shuffled my feet back and forth while waiting to fill out the necessary forms, I seriously considered what I wanted for myself when it came to being a woman, being a partner, being a wife. And I thought about the women who came before me in my family, who didn’t seem to know (or, rather, to care in the same way that I did) that even though they were married, they still had the right to keep their birth names.

I thought about my grandmother, my father’s mother, who is one of the best women I know, and one of my most favorite people. She’s a sassy, faithful, family-oriented, inspirational go-getter at 81 years old. But in the 44 years that she was married to my farmer-tractor-driving-grandfather (who sadly passed away before they reached 45 years of marriage), she loved nothing more than to cook and care for him and for their nine children. Yet even so, my grandmother, who took my grandfather’s name, which is my father’s name, and which is my birth name – she never lost herself. She never let go of her role as a woman to take on her role as a wife, and her name certainly had no impact on her wifehood, on her womanhood.

I thought about my grandmother, my mother’s mother, who died when I was in high school. I thought about how she would respond to my internal debate regarding whether to take on Mrs., or to keep my birth name. And then I smiled in knowing that she would support me no matter what choice I made, because that’s the woman she always was. She was a supporter to her core.

And I thought about my mother, who took my father’s name when they married, and who never seemed the slightest bit inhibited by her choice to take on a different moniker.

In thinking back to all of the women that have come before me in my family, I made my choice. I took my husband’s last name, but I remained a Ms. It was a compromise that I was willing, no, that I was overjoyed, to make. My choice was an acknowledgment of my identity as Sara, and my new identity as the partner of Jordan. And for me, I also made another compromise, a symbolic one, to honor myself as I’ve always been, and the new self that I was about to become, as a partner, a wife: I hyphenated my name professionally. To me, my career was (and still is) my own, and by symbolically hyphenating my name professionally, I was able to ensure that I entered into marriage with my feminist womanhood in tact.

In looking back on our first year of marriage, I have no regrets regarding my decision to take my husband’s name. I’m especially proud of my decision to remain a Ms., and I’m reminded of that every single day, when my students call me Ms. XXXX-XXXX. But as I reflect on the choices I’ve made, I think back to that silly little stamp, and I feel blessed to have had compelling blogs to read in that moment and in many more, precisely because blogging continually forces me to make choices with intention. And I know that I did just that.

I’ve been dwelling in possibility for the past few days, feeling grateful for all of the blessings in my life, from career prospects to the support and love of my family and friends to the rigorous intellectual activity that my Master’s degree allows me to the students that I am able to mold into adults each day.

My Grandma lives her life by this motto, and she is one of the most inspirational women I’ve ever known. I try to live my life with these words as my guide.

Enjoy!

[Source]

I’ve always been a big believer in keeping your birthday wishes secret, out of fear that they won’t come true if you even think of uttering your clandestine hopes and dreams to another soul.

But throughout the past few years of my life, I’ve become a me that wishes out loud, out in the open, refusing to fear the wrath of superstition’s forceful hand. And in the spirit of this goal of mine to live out loud, to wish and hope and dream aloud, today I’m sharing precisely what it is that I’m dreaming of, career-wise, for myself in the next few years.

While I have many a dream that spans outside of my career, I wanted to share these specific goals and dreams with you today because I’m welcoming the passage of time, over and over again as each day passes and autumn, winter, spring, and then graduation approaches, because to me, the passage of time is synonymous with dreams fulfilled, hopes rewarded, wishes granted.

My ideal career path is shaped by what Jordan and I have determined to be our mutual goal as a couple, to be realized as soon as logistically possible, which is to move to Seattle, Washington. As you recall, we vacationed there this summer, and we couldn’t help but dream of living amongst the majesty of the area, from the moment we walked out of the depths of the tunnel, where we rode the Lightrail, to when our plane was ascending into the clouds lurking above Washington state. As we were flying home, we felt like we left a place that felt like home to us while we were there, and we whispered to each other that we both couldn’t wait to go back.

With our dream of moving to Seattle in hand, I began to investigate how I, as an aspiring educator and a mover-and-shaker in desiring to create observable, palpable social change in the world, could align my career goals with our dream (no, our need) to live in the Seattle area. I began to research options for additional schooling (through a Master’s in Teaching program) based in Washington state. The Master’s in Teaching programs that I researched will allow me to pursue a teaching certification in Secondary Education with an English Language Arts endorsement. And, much to my delight, two of the programs in particular (the University of Washington and The Evergreen State College) seem to emphasize a social justice component to their programs, which encouraged me even more to consider applying to these programs. After making a spreadsheet of information, including application due dates, program lengths and top schools to consider applying to, I planned to move forward in pursuing my dream of becoming a teacher in a high-needs classroom.

Then, upon the suggestion of one of my colleagues, I investigated another option that may also yield a cross-country move to Seattle, which is Teach for America. Teach for America is a program that places aspiring educators in high-needs communities and schools for a two-year time period, allowing students to receive firsthand experience in teaching diverse student populations while also simultaneously permitting students to pursue their teaching certifications. Because of its social justice component and the focus on areas of the country and on school districts with students who are at the highest levels of need, I quickly became interested in applying to the program.

In terms of where things are for me now, I’m planning to apply to the Teach for America program by the 3rd deadline in late October. I will then go through the process of interviewing (if I’m asked), and, if I am accepted into Teach for America, I will be notified of my tentative placement (out of various regions around the United States) in January. Jordan and I have discussed that if we receive placement in one of our top two to three or maybe four regions, we will most likely accept this placement and be ready to move next summer, following my graduation from my Master’s program. Of course, our first choice for a regional placement is in the Seattle-Tacoma area, but we feel that we may be satisfied in other regions as well, such as the Twin Cities or St. Louis, which would allow us to experience a new place while simultaneously living geographically close to family. However, if for whatever reason I am not hired by Teach for America, or if we are not satisfied with our tentative placement, I still plan to apply to the various Master’s in Teaching programs that I’ve pinpointed in Washington state.

I’m anxious and motivated and encouraged and intensely excited to see what God has in store for Jordan and I. This past year, our first year of marriage, has yielded a time full of adventure and surprise, and I can’t wait to see what blessings and challenges we will face within the next year.

What are you wishing for? Are you wishing out loud? I’d love to hear your wishes and dreams in the comments! Please click on “Comments” under the post title to share your thoughts!