It's like the sun has come out.
I honestly can't explain what the last several weeks have been like (or maybe I have?) but even for me, being able to take a step back from the situation I sort of already "forget" how low those lows of early pregnancy were for me.
Even my appetite is changing, and I'm happy to report that we're getting back to normal!
For months, I couldn't really even look at fruit; nothing appealed to me AT ALL.
I'd force down a banana because it was so bland, it couldn't be possibly be offensive to my tummy (and yet, it was) but other than that, I really wanted very little in the way of healthy food.
I did manage to get my hands on some of those cheesefries that I (you) was craving so badly.
Let me say a word really quickly about that and it has nothing to do with the fry and everything to do with the friends. (The friends who found me my fries.)
Choose wisely, wee baby. Pick friends who are good to you always and will be there for you no matter what, who encourage you to make wise choices, who would never want to see you fail.
If you're a boy, choose the guys who are treat their mothers and girlfriends (or wives) well. It's simple logic that if they do that correctly, they're going to ACE friendship.
And if you're a girl (and I STILL think you are but found myself fondling a little pirate-y sweatshirt the other day in a baby store), surround yourself with the kind-hearted yet funny. Your friends should make you feel good inside, should inspire you and lift you up and laugh with you.
And they should, when reading that your pregnant self is craving cheesefries from the Longhorn Steakhouse, be the girlfriends who will get you those darn fries, EVEN IF they eat a salad while you literally lick cheese off of your chin.
Back to my point.
(I'm allowed to impart some of life's little lessons in this book, by the way. Who knows where I'll be when you eventually get around to reading and enjoying all of this. Hopefully I can be there when you and all your siblings sit and make fun of the fact that I said "groovy" in the posting a few days back. But if not, you'll have my words of wisdom...well, you'll have my words, anyway ;))
Tonight we had to do a diaper run.
Creux decided that on the ONE day in the last YEAR that Daddy worked late that he's spend the evening pooping hourly.
Super fantastic fun for me.
So we ended up being low on diapers.
Actually we ended up being out of them.
There IS a difference and it sucks to learn that difference in the moment of need.
Daddy geared up to head out and he said to me, "Do you want anything else?"
"YES!" I nearly shouted.
"I want some grapes and strawberries and apples and bananas!"
It's been ages since I've craved those foods.
I'm dying for some super fruity smoothies (plus I need extra protein boosts from all the seeds I can throw in and not taste!) but our blender died back when we had a little too much margarita fun with some friends.
(Same friends as the cheesefries-getters. Margaritas and cheesefries. These girls are AWESOME!)
Anyway, we are blender-less but will be purchasing one as soon as possible so that I can get my breakfasty fix.
I'm craving a raspberry/blueberry mix.
I need to stop talking about it actually.
We don't want it to get so bad that Daddy's out trying to find an open Smoothie King at midnight.
Anyway, when he returned home, we gobbled up a bowl of super yummy fruits and I swear nothing (aside from those cheesefries) has ever tasted better and I didn't feel sick at all after eating the (whole) bowl!
(Though when I mentioned that I wanted strawberries, Daddy gasped, "Those are like $5 a pint!" As if I care! They could be a $100 a darn pint and I'd still want them! He's just lucky I'm not still craving watermelon which is WAY out of season, I don't even know where we could get one shipped in from but I guaran-dang-tee it'd be a heck of a lot more than five measly bucks. They were worth every stinkin' penny, by the way. Y-u-m-m-y.)
In complete honesty, I must add one teensy-weensy additional ingredient to that shopping list I mentioned.
I ran out of the most DECADENT chocolate ice cream in the whole wide world (oh my, it has a hard crackle topping and when you nibble through that, all that crackle-y goodness is mixed in with the actual ice cream--I can't take it!) and I HAD to have some more. I didn't eat any tonight but it makes me feel better just knowing it's in the fridge in case I need it at say, 4:00 in the morning.
Nobody's perfect, my love, least of all me :)
Anyway, enjoy your delicious snack in there!
And thanks for finally asking for something that I don't feel like I need to sit in the dark, dark closet and eat.
Kentucky Fried Chicken...really?
I stand by my statements that fast food is crap food, even if you dragged it from the depths of my food memories which told you differently.
Hope it was good cuz it's gone, baby, gone.
Look out, hummus, here we come!
(I'm kidding. I hate hummus. But I SHOULD eat it.)
(Nah, I'm good.)
Loving you already,
Mama
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
12 Weeks, 3 Days
I meant to log on Christmas Day and wish you a Merry Christmas but that would only have been for public record.
We had a lovely "first" Christmas together and as we laid on the couch all during the day and into the evening too, I did wish you that, and many other things.
Your presence was definitely felt this year, though you are still quietly hanging out in there.
I'm sitting here, using my new lapdesk on the couch while I write you, so now I have a buffer between those electro-magnetic waves and your delicate little bits.
I worry, I can't help it.
But this gift was under the tree for me, a funny little reminder of you.
I've never dragged this laptop anywhere before this "unique" sick period with you; I've always been happy to write at my spot at the desk.
This is mainly because I can't manipulate photos while sitting on the couch, and I've never actually written this much copy before--usually I'm blogging with super cute photos of your siblings.
But now I have this nifty little desk that I can use for at least the new few months.
I realized as soon as I sat down with it that it's a Limited Use gift because soon my belly will take over my lap space, rendering this contraption use-less until I'm blogging in bed while you snooze next to me.
I debated whether or not to place a gift under the tree for you but in the end decided to go with the not.
It's impossibly hard for me to allow THAT much baby into the house right now because it makes the waiting more agonizing.
I'm able to plot and plan for you but don't dare crack open any baby totes just yet and won't until right before you're due date.
Plus, you need for nothing except diapers, onesies, and me.
Now that I'm feeling better (and I am! I'm still dealing with nausea quite a bit but it's manageable.), we are heading into Get Ready For Baby mode.
We like to use our months of pregnancy as a motivator to get things in order around the house.
Last time with Creux, we had JUST moved in here but managed to accomplish quite a bit as we lived in our old house while fixing this one to our liking before we moved in. We had painted all the rooms, assembled most of the bedroom furniture for everyone, filled the kitchen with everything we'd need to make the first day of moving go as smoothly as possible (NOTHING goes smoothly when you can't prepare food for hungry children), and within three weeks, we had it to where I could nest a bit (understatement) and three weeks after that, Creux arrived!
All I wanted last time were new comfy couches to lounge upon with my new baby.
We'd had our old ones for a long time and I just wanted ONE room truly pulled together.
(It still wasn't, I ended up going a wee bit crazy hating the yellow paint in the family room and while Daddy was at work one day, I painted big splotches of a new yellow color all over the place, upstairs and down, in order to see it from different light angles, and it ended up looking like a lunatic broke in with a paint can and attacked my walls. It stayed like that for MONTHS.)
Anyway, I got my couches and patted myself on the back because it was the perfect place for me to perch with newborn Creux.
This time with you, I'm after a cozy bedroom nest for three.
You will room with us, most likely for the first year.
We family bed our newborns (up until you babies start rolling away) and from there, we place you in a small crib in our bedroom.
I will nurse you exclusively, day and night, so it only makes sense to keep you close.
And to be honest, I feel that the MOST appropriate place for you is curled up with me.
It's never seemed right to me to put my babies in a huge crib alone in a huge room.
We've never done it.
We tried, especially with Chas because that's what we were "supposed" to do but it never, ever felt right to me and he hated it. He slept for the first month cradled in our arms (we'd switch off during the night) and then, mostly took to the swing.
Rhyse was the first to enter our bed though I did try unsuccessfully to use a bassinet I'd received as a gift when Chas was a baby.
That was a no-go for him, too.
He stayed with us until he was a rolling man and then he left for his own room when he was around five to six months old.
By the time Greer arrived, we had accepted our "family bed" lifestyle and sold the bassinet at a garage sale while I was still pregnant with her.
We assembled the crib for show only and didn't use it until she was about eight months old and left our room for her own.
Creux was an entirely different story altogether as he arrived when my maternal instincts were really kicking in and when I fully arrived at a place of comfort at how we live and raise our babies.
Whereas I maybe kept our family bedding quiet in years past due to a rather frowning-on-that society (and family), I now proudly announce it to the world!
We are family bedders.
We snuggle our newborns relentlessly.
I feel no shame and don't tolerate finger-wagging at my parenting ideas--and most especially don't buy into the mainstream "they need to learn independence" school of thought in regards to the whole crib idea.
I happen to believe that this type of loving sleep environment breeds a feeling of security.
You have your whole life to learn to be independent.
What I want is for you to feel my constant presence and know that I will keep you safe always.
I'm planning the most luscious of comfort spaces for us, with soft lighting and luxurious (but safe) bedding.
You are foremost in my mind as I pull this room together in my head and as I relay my ideas to He Who Makes It Happen (that would be your Daddy).
I spent quite a bit of time thinking today, just really trying to pinpoint what exactly I need and want in there and I had this image of us together, me curled around you, cocooning you as we sleep. From the moment you are born, you will not leave my side for a very long time. I truly love bedding with you babies and have often commented on how wonderful it is, that none of you have ever really even cried in the middle of the night, you stir and then I stir--it's instantaneous. And your needs are met before you have any chance to get worked up with hunger. You started shifting and wiggling and grunting (oh, those baby grunts--GAH!), and I'm your woman. Just like that. We nurse on one side to calm you, we take a break for a diaper change, we nurse again and fall asleep together.
It's beautifully simple and perfect for us.
I'm a firm believer that you babies know yourselves best at the beginning.
We don't wake sleeping babies to feed.
We don't have any type of nursing schedule--it is completely on-demand; you tell me when it's time to eat, not the other way around.
We follow your cues, try our best to anticipate your needs, and I give everything I have to your care and comfort most especially in the beginning.
This is also why I keep you with me at night.
It's why I welcome you into my bed.
One might say I've only waited ten months for you but that's not exactly true.
I've waited a lifetime.
I don't want to miss a moment and I believe that the accommodations that we make for you babies is what you truly need from us.
I let you and my instincts and experience as a mama guide me.
I'm just honored to have this chance again.
One more thing before I go--
Though there wasn't a gift for you under the tree this year, my favorite gift CAME from you.
A small package in my stocking labeled, "To Mommy, Love, Baby"
A charm for my bracelet, a tiny locket with the number "5".
You are always with me.
Loving you already,
Mama (who is determined to bang out that cozy nest for three SOON)
We had a lovely "first" Christmas together and as we laid on the couch all during the day and into the evening too, I did wish you that, and many other things.
Your presence was definitely felt this year, though you are still quietly hanging out in there.
I'm sitting here, using my new lapdesk on the couch while I write you, so now I have a buffer between those electro-magnetic waves and your delicate little bits.
I worry, I can't help it.
But this gift was under the tree for me, a funny little reminder of you.
I've never dragged this laptop anywhere before this "unique" sick period with you; I've always been happy to write at my spot at the desk.
This is mainly because I can't manipulate photos while sitting on the couch, and I've never actually written this much copy before--usually I'm blogging with super cute photos of your siblings.
But now I have this nifty little desk that I can use for at least the new few months.
I realized as soon as I sat down with it that it's a Limited Use gift because soon my belly will take over my lap space, rendering this contraption use-less until I'm blogging in bed while you snooze next to me.
I debated whether or not to place a gift under the tree for you but in the end decided to go with the not.
It's impossibly hard for me to allow THAT much baby into the house right now because it makes the waiting more agonizing.
I'm able to plot and plan for you but don't dare crack open any baby totes just yet and won't until right before you're due date.
Plus, you need for nothing except diapers, onesies, and me.
Now that I'm feeling better (and I am! I'm still dealing with nausea quite a bit but it's manageable.), we are heading into Get Ready For Baby mode.
We like to use our months of pregnancy as a motivator to get things in order around the house.
Last time with Creux, we had JUST moved in here but managed to accomplish quite a bit as we lived in our old house while fixing this one to our liking before we moved in. We had painted all the rooms, assembled most of the bedroom furniture for everyone, filled the kitchen with everything we'd need to make the first day of moving go as smoothly as possible (NOTHING goes smoothly when you can't prepare food for hungry children), and within three weeks, we had it to where I could nest a bit (understatement) and three weeks after that, Creux arrived!
All I wanted last time were new comfy couches to lounge upon with my new baby.
We'd had our old ones for a long time and I just wanted ONE room truly pulled together.
(It still wasn't, I ended up going a wee bit crazy hating the yellow paint in the family room and while Daddy was at work one day, I painted big splotches of a new yellow color all over the place, upstairs and down, in order to see it from different light angles, and it ended up looking like a lunatic broke in with a paint can and attacked my walls. It stayed like that for MONTHS.)
Anyway, I got my couches and patted myself on the back because it was the perfect place for me to perch with newborn Creux.
This time with you, I'm after a cozy bedroom nest for three.
You will room with us, most likely for the first year.
We family bed our newborns (up until you babies start rolling away) and from there, we place you in a small crib in our bedroom.
I will nurse you exclusively, day and night, so it only makes sense to keep you close.
And to be honest, I feel that the MOST appropriate place for you is curled up with me.
It's never seemed right to me to put my babies in a huge crib alone in a huge room.
We've never done it.
We tried, especially with Chas because that's what we were "supposed" to do but it never, ever felt right to me and he hated it. He slept for the first month cradled in our arms (we'd switch off during the night) and then, mostly took to the swing.
Rhyse was the first to enter our bed though I did try unsuccessfully to use a bassinet I'd received as a gift when Chas was a baby.
That was a no-go for him, too.
He stayed with us until he was a rolling man and then he left for his own room when he was around five to six months old.
By the time Greer arrived, we had accepted our "family bed" lifestyle and sold the bassinet at a garage sale while I was still pregnant with her.
We assembled the crib for show only and didn't use it until she was about eight months old and left our room for her own.
Creux was an entirely different story altogether as he arrived when my maternal instincts were really kicking in and when I fully arrived at a place of comfort at how we live and raise our babies.
Whereas I maybe kept our family bedding quiet in years past due to a rather frowning-on-that society (and family), I now proudly announce it to the world!
We are family bedders.
We snuggle our newborns relentlessly.
I feel no shame and don't tolerate finger-wagging at my parenting ideas--and most especially don't buy into the mainstream "they need to learn independence" school of thought in regards to the whole crib idea.
I happen to believe that this type of loving sleep environment breeds a feeling of security.
You have your whole life to learn to be independent.
What I want is for you to feel my constant presence and know that I will keep you safe always.
I'm planning the most luscious of comfort spaces for us, with soft lighting and luxurious (but safe) bedding.
You are foremost in my mind as I pull this room together in my head and as I relay my ideas to He Who Makes It Happen (that would be your Daddy).
I spent quite a bit of time thinking today, just really trying to pinpoint what exactly I need and want in there and I had this image of us together, me curled around you, cocooning you as we sleep. From the moment you are born, you will not leave my side for a very long time. I truly love bedding with you babies and have often commented on how wonderful it is, that none of you have ever really even cried in the middle of the night, you stir and then I stir--it's instantaneous. And your needs are met before you have any chance to get worked up with hunger. You started shifting and wiggling and grunting (oh, those baby grunts--GAH!), and I'm your woman. Just like that. We nurse on one side to calm you, we take a break for a diaper change, we nurse again and fall asleep together.
It's beautifully simple and perfect for us.
I'm a firm believer that you babies know yourselves best at the beginning.
We don't wake sleeping babies to feed.
We don't have any type of nursing schedule--it is completely on-demand; you tell me when it's time to eat, not the other way around.
We follow your cues, try our best to anticipate your needs, and I give everything I have to your care and comfort most especially in the beginning.
This is also why I keep you with me at night.
It's why I welcome you into my bed.
One might say I've only waited ten months for you but that's not exactly true.
I've waited a lifetime.
I don't want to miss a moment and I believe that the accommodations that we make for you babies is what you truly need from us.
I let you and my instincts and experience as a mama guide me.
I'm just honored to have this chance again.
One more thing before I go--
Though there wasn't a gift for you under the tree this year, my favorite gift CAME from you.
A small package in my stocking labeled, "To Mommy, Love, Baby"
A charm for my bracelet, a tiny locket with the number "5".
You are always with me.
Loving you already,
Mama (who is determined to bang out that cozy nest for three SOON)
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
11 Weeks, 6 Days
Well, I am writing to you fresh from a round with the potty.
I just spent my afternoon blogging on Lifelines about how terrific I feel all of a sudden and now I've spent exactly nine excrutiating minutes tossing my entire dinner into the toilet.
What do you have against dinner, child?
And what in the WORLD is wrong with Massey's pizza?
Okay, so look.
I'm sort of realizing something here.
I may be doing this every-few-days-yak-yaking stuff for awhile still.
I'm coming to terms with the fact that I may be dealing with the vomit thing for a l-o-n-g time to come.
For whatever reason, you make me sick :)
I say that in the nicest way possible, of course.
But really, you sort of do.
The good thing is, most times, I know when it's coming because I spend about 20 minutes laying on the couch trying to will it away before finally succumbing, with a defeated sigh, and trudging to the potty.
Here's what I'm thinking about all of this:
It's fine.
Really.
I can handle throwing up three times a week.
It'd be sheer heaven for me if you'd stick to breakfast but you prefer dinner.
What's a girl going to do? I certainly can't change your ways. (I've tried.)
So I'm making my peace with it.
I can do that because...otherwise I'm starting to feel GREAT!
The all-day-long nausea is seemingly gone.
I have twinges here and there, like tonight, that I can't fight off but for the most part, what's left is bearable.
My energy is returning as is my desire to actually participate in my life which is just GROOVY. (Don't say grow up saying, "groovy". It's really quite queer but it came to mind just then and was used with a HEAVY dose of virtual sarcasm.)
For the first time in what seems like forever, I'm running my house again! I'm sorting mail, doing laundry, bossing my family around.
Mama is BACK!
Mostly.
I'm about 80% of the woman I normally am but since I'd place me in the last two months at a 20%, you can see what I'm cheering about, why I'm willing to heave nasty just-had dinner into the toilet with a smile.
We are leaving our first trimester behind tomorrow as I will officially turn 12 weeks! That's exciting for many reasons but mostly because I think at some point soon you and I will start to live in harmony together. Plus, you will grow MUCH bigger (you are about two and a half inches big now, the size of a lime--how cute is that?) and I'll soon start feeling you and we'll get to see you again on the big ultrasoundy screen and it's my hope that I'm really just able to start enjoying you now!
I've been watching tons of t.v. these days and one of the shows I see regularly is this one about a family of 18 kids. 18 KIDS! Can you imagine? Well, of course you can't but neither can I which should really tell you something. Anyway, I love this family--they're super interesting and inspiring and I happened to catch an episode featuring a few minutes of a home birth.
Watching those minutes unfold on the screen was enough to positively solidify my desire (resolution?) to have my own home birth with you. I watched the new Mama labor on her couch, in her shower, walking through her cozy house, surrounded by just a handful of those who love her the most and I thought...I want that.
And then I watched her snuggle in her own bed, tired but happy, while her husband and doula weighed her brand-new daughter and swaddled her tight before passing the baby back to that super snuggly, tired, but happy Mama and I thought...I REALLY want that.
And so...I'm going to get it!
I'm not afraid of being home with you yet I have twinges of apprehension. I suspect that in the most pivotal of birth moments, the one where it really dawns on me that it's too late for the hospital even if I WANTED to go, I will start to freak out a bit. And that's not to say any part of me doesn't want to do it, it's just unfamiliar to me. I'm hoping that the comfort of my own home and putting myself in a position of full control over the situation (me likes my control) will ease any worries that I might have. I will be able to choose how I labor, where I go, what I do and don't want to do and trust me when I say, I will make it as easy on us as possible :)
Of course, should anything funky arise that would put either of us in even a smidge-y of danger, it will not break my heart to pull the rip-cord and use Plan B. I've actually had wonderful experiences with the hospital births so my decison here isn't due to some horrid birth story. Not at all. Creux's in particular was just...fun. We were relaxed and excited, I adored my midwife (she was just a few years older than me), we were able to have Daddy deliver, my labor nurse took GORGEOUS photos of Creux's birth, kept the camera and took amazing shots of the moments just after (anyone who takes great photos of my kids is instantly totally in with me), and then she spoiled me rotten, pampering me silly post-partum, treating me like a queen.
So you see, it really would not upset me terribly to switch tracks for any reason.
But I just really, really want to be home with you.
Having mentioned all of the above, there ARE things we don't like about the hospital settings and their "policies" which usually ends with me clashing with someone over something and I'm trying to avoid that sort of drama.
I'm not compromising my beliefs in regards to your care.
Last time, we faced heavy pressure to allow them to take Creux just a bit early due to my half-way-done pre-labor dilation status. (I was at 5cm before labor was even triggered.)
But in my heart of hearts, I feel like babies come when babies are ready.
Who am I to allow someone to yank my Grower out of his/her comfy home?
I certainly did see the merit to their concern, I almost didn't make it to the hospital with Greer (made it in time to change my clothes and that's about it, couldn't walk, couldn't talk, could do nothing but breathe...and panic) so I knew why they wanted me to schedule his birth.
In the end, it was decided that if I went past my due date, I would head into the hospital to have my water broken.
Which IS technically an induction.
But I fought FOR DAYS to get the staff to agree to forego their "policy" of forcing me to endure the labor-inducing drug pitocin and to instead just break my water bag. (Which, for me, brings not only a gush of water but a baby, too.)
That seemed like such a simple request to me, one that I knew from experience would be all that I needed to nudge my baby out but it was like I was asking for something COMPLETELY unreasonable.
I just don't like that sort of stuff.
It's MY baby and MY body and I have to fight so hard to be heard...I'm just done with it.
There are other things too that would make me unpopular with the staff:
We'll be foregoing the usual "Hep B" vaccine given to babies at birth. It's unnecessary in our case--we are not "at-risk" and neither are you. This also falls under the "policy" category, as most moms don't realize that they are tested for Hep B right before delivery, are negative, but baby is vaccinated anyway. This might not bother others but you will not be receiving ANYTHING that I do not find to be in your best interest.
I do not want silver nitrate drops placed in your eyes, especially right after birth as I want you to see me, to see your family, and there are better, non-toxic alternatives available for use.
I don't want to be told how or when I can hold you or feed you and I don't want you removed from my room--period. (Greer had an issue withlow body temp and was placed in a bassinet with a heating lamp "until she had an hour's worth of normal temp readings" or something like that. My suggestion of using my own body heat under the blankets to warm her was dismissed, "against policy", and I was told repeatedly not to touch her. "But what if she cries?" I wanted to know. "Then you come get me," said the nurse. Like hell.)
There will be no scrubbing down of my infant with a nurse who has been doing it for 30 years and wants to prove to me how durable a newborn is. I can not stand the shrieks of rage that erupt from my children and can't see why a bath needs to be like the roughest thing they'll come in contact with for at least the next year. The first bath should be relaxing, to both mother AND baby, and my experience has never been even remotely close to that. By the time I get you babies back, yes, all fresh and pink, my nerves are shot and my babies fall into a stress-induced, coma-like sleep.
Your bath, at home, will be given to you by your family, all of those who are eager to explore every tiny inch of you and I promise, you will not cry.
And neither will I. :)
The midwives have some suggestions of their own, two of which that I agree whole-heartedly with.
The first is that they leave the cord intact for a long time (40 minutes, I think?), until it stops pulsating. (This assures a smooth transition between breathing "systems"--basically it's an insurance policy that aids you while you figure out how to breathe on your own. With an uncut cord,you will still receive oxygen rich blood as a back-up.)
And the second is that they do very, very little with you (other than make sure you're breathing, obviously) for the first hour or so and this is because they want your family to receive all of your "awake" time. Babies are typically very alert after birth and they are strongly in favor of you sending every moment of that time getting acquainted with your adoring fans.
I couldn't have a better plan for you, myself ;)
So though we have a ways to go in this pregnancy, I'm definitely thinking and planning and putting things in place mentally as to how I would like your birthday to unfold.
And every road is leading me home.
You're in my thoughts contantly, my little wiggler.
Loving you already,
Mama
I just spent my afternoon blogging on Lifelines about how terrific I feel all of a sudden and now I've spent exactly nine excrutiating minutes tossing my entire dinner into the toilet.
What do you have against dinner, child?
And what in the WORLD is wrong with Massey's pizza?
Okay, so look.
I'm sort of realizing something here.
I may be doing this every-few-days-yak-yaking stuff for awhile still.
I'm coming to terms with the fact that I may be dealing with the vomit thing for a l-o-n-g time to come.
For whatever reason, you make me sick :)
I say that in the nicest way possible, of course.
But really, you sort of do.
The good thing is, most times, I know when it's coming because I spend about 20 minutes laying on the couch trying to will it away before finally succumbing, with a defeated sigh, and trudging to the potty.
Here's what I'm thinking about all of this:
It's fine.
Really.
I can handle throwing up three times a week.
It'd be sheer heaven for me if you'd stick to breakfast but you prefer dinner.
What's a girl going to do? I certainly can't change your ways. (I've tried.)
So I'm making my peace with it.
I can do that because...otherwise I'm starting to feel GREAT!
The all-day-long nausea is seemingly gone.
I have twinges here and there, like tonight, that I can't fight off but for the most part, what's left is bearable.
My energy is returning as is my desire to actually participate in my life which is just GROOVY. (Don't say grow up saying, "groovy". It's really quite queer but it came to mind just then and was used with a HEAVY dose of virtual sarcasm.)
For the first time in what seems like forever, I'm running my house again! I'm sorting mail, doing laundry, bossing my family around.
Mama is BACK!
Mostly.
I'm about 80% of the woman I normally am but since I'd place me in the last two months at a 20%, you can see what I'm cheering about, why I'm willing to heave nasty just-had dinner into the toilet with a smile.
We are leaving our first trimester behind tomorrow as I will officially turn 12 weeks! That's exciting for many reasons but mostly because I think at some point soon you and I will start to live in harmony together. Plus, you will grow MUCH bigger (you are about two and a half inches big now, the size of a lime--how cute is that?) and I'll soon start feeling you and we'll get to see you again on the big ultrasoundy screen and it's my hope that I'm really just able to start enjoying you now!
I've been watching tons of t.v. these days and one of the shows I see regularly is this one about a family of 18 kids. 18 KIDS! Can you imagine? Well, of course you can't but neither can I which should really tell you something. Anyway, I love this family--they're super interesting and inspiring and I happened to catch an episode featuring a few minutes of a home birth.
Watching those minutes unfold on the screen was enough to positively solidify my desire (resolution?) to have my own home birth with you. I watched the new Mama labor on her couch, in her shower, walking through her cozy house, surrounded by just a handful of those who love her the most and I thought...I want that.
And then I watched her snuggle in her own bed, tired but happy, while her husband and doula weighed her brand-new daughter and swaddled her tight before passing the baby back to that super snuggly, tired, but happy Mama and I thought...I REALLY want that.
And so...I'm going to get it!
I'm not afraid of being home with you yet I have twinges of apprehension. I suspect that in the most pivotal of birth moments, the one where it really dawns on me that it's too late for the hospital even if I WANTED to go, I will start to freak out a bit. And that's not to say any part of me doesn't want to do it, it's just unfamiliar to me. I'm hoping that the comfort of my own home and putting myself in a position of full control over the situation (me likes my control) will ease any worries that I might have. I will be able to choose how I labor, where I go, what I do and don't want to do and trust me when I say, I will make it as easy on us as possible :)
Of course, should anything funky arise that would put either of us in even a smidge-y of danger, it will not break my heart to pull the rip-cord and use Plan B. I've actually had wonderful experiences with the hospital births so my decison here isn't due to some horrid birth story. Not at all. Creux's in particular was just...fun. We were relaxed and excited, I adored my midwife (she was just a few years older than me), we were able to have Daddy deliver, my labor nurse took GORGEOUS photos of Creux's birth, kept the camera and took amazing shots of the moments just after (anyone who takes great photos of my kids is instantly totally in with me), and then she spoiled me rotten, pampering me silly post-partum, treating me like a queen.
So you see, it really would not upset me terribly to switch tracks for any reason.
But I just really, really want to be home with you.
Having mentioned all of the above, there ARE things we don't like about the hospital settings and their "policies" which usually ends with me clashing with someone over something and I'm trying to avoid that sort of drama.
I'm not compromising my beliefs in regards to your care.
Last time, we faced heavy pressure to allow them to take Creux just a bit early due to my half-way-done pre-labor dilation status. (I was at 5cm before labor was even triggered.)
But in my heart of hearts, I feel like babies come when babies are ready.
Who am I to allow someone to yank my Grower out of his/her comfy home?
I certainly did see the merit to their concern, I almost didn't make it to the hospital with Greer (made it in time to change my clothes and that's about it, couldn't walk, couldn't talk, could do nothing but breathe...and panic) so I knew why they wanted me to schedule his birth.
In the end, it was decided that if I went past my due date, I would head into the hospital to have my water broken.
Which IS technically an induction.
But I fought FOR DAYS to get the staff to agree to forego their "policy" of forcing me to endure the labor-inducing drug pitocin and to instead just break my water bag. (Which, for me, brings not only a gush of water but a baby, too.)
That seemed like such a simple request to me, one that I knew from experience would be all that I needed to nudge my baby out but it was like I was asking for something COMPLETELY unreasonable.
I just don't like that sort of stuff.
It's MY baby and MY body and I have to fight so hard to be heard...I'm just done with it.
There are other things too that would make me unpopular with the staff:
We'll be foregoing the usual "Hep B" vaccine given to babies at birth. It's unnecessary in our case--we are not "at-risk" and neither are you. This also falls under the "policy" category, as most moms don't realize that they are tested for Hep B right before delivery, are negative, but baby is vaccinated anyway. This might not bother others but you will not be receiving ANYTHING that I do not find to be in your best interest.
I do not want silver nitrate drops placed in your eyes, especially right after birth as I want you to see me, to see your family, and there are better, non-toxic alternatives available for use.
I don't want to be told how or when I can hold you or feed you and I don't want you removed from my room--period. (Greer had an issue withlow body temp and was placed in a bassinet with a heating lamp "until she had an hour's worth of normal temp readings" or something like that. My suggestion of using my own body heat under the blankets to warm her was dismissed, "against policy", and I was told repeatedly not to touch her. "But what if she cries?" I wanted to know. "Then you come get me," said the nurse. Like hell.)
There will be no scrubbing down of my infant with a nurse who has been doing it for 30 years and wants to prove to me how durable a newborn is. I can not stand the shrieks of rage that erupt from my children and can't see why a bath needs to be like the roughest thing they'll come in contact with for at least the next year. The first bath should be relaxing, to both mother AND baby, and my experience has never been even remotely close to that. By the time I get you babies back, yes, all fresh and pink, my nerves are shot and my babies fall into a stress-induced, coma-like sleep.
Your bath, at home, will be given to you by your family, all of those who are eager to explore every tiny inch of you and I promise, you will not cry.
And neither will I. :)
The midwives have some suggestions of their own, two of which that I agree whole-heartedly with.
The first is that they leave the cord intact for a long time (40 minutes, I think?), until it stops pulsating. (This assures a smooth transition between breathing "systems"--basically it's an insurance policy that aids you while you figure out how to breathe on your own. With an uncut cord,you will still receive oxygen rich blood as a back-up.)
And the second is that they do very, very little with you (other than make sure you're breathing, obviously) for the first hour or so and this is because they want your family to receive all of your "awake" time. Babies are typically very alert after birth and they are strongly in favor of you sending every moment of that time getting acquainted with your adoring fans.
I couldn't have a better plan for you, myself ;)
So though we have a ways to go in this pregnancy, I'm definitely thinking and planning and putting things in place mentally as to how I would like your birthday to unfold.
And every road is leading me home.
You're in my thoughts contantly, my little wiggler.
Loving you already,
Mama
Monday, December 21, 2009
11 Weeks, 4 Days
Christmas is just days away here and already I'm looking forward to next year!
I keep thinking about how you will be here by then, will have been here for awhile and will have established your place in this family (no doubt living on a THRONE for the first several months as your family just positively drools all over you), and will likely be crawling around wrecking the joint by the time Santa makes his jolly ol' arrival.
THAT is hard for me to comprend right now as I sit here wondering how many more weeks until you are strong enough that I can feel your kicks. It really shouldn't be long, normally I feel my babies pretty early on, between weeks 14 and 16. That early though, I have to be lying SUPER still and be SUPER quiet and I will be lucky to get one good thump every few days but at least then I know it's always a possibility. One of my favorite things about this upcoming part of the pregnancy is privately keeping tabs on you. Sometimes I'll tell the rest of the family when you're up and playing...and other times I like to keep it to myself, tapping back here and there, poking you babies when you poke me.
The other wonderful part of feeling you move is just knowing that you're okay in there. Right now I still can't check in with you, I have no idea how things are going, other than you looked so strong and healthy when we saw you last week. It's a major relief to feel those pounds and bumps because it's you're way of saying..."I'm good, Mama."
My body is changing quickly these days. At first, it was really just my waist that thickened, quite literally, IMMEDIATELY upon receiving knowledge of you and then a small, round tummy appeared like magic. I have no IDEA how it's possible since I don't keep half of what I eat, but I've gained a bit of weight at this point and my body has become all soft and curvy. Very Mama-ish. And truly, I don't mind this so much! It's rather fun for me, a skinny girl at heart, to be somewhat voluptuous for awhile. Now, I don't necessarily relish packing on the pounds but it also can't be helped. Believe me, in the past four pregnancies, I've tried once or twice to eat really, really, really well and in those weeks where I ate my weight in carrots sticks and apple slices, I gained like nine pounds or something ridiculous like that. I don't stray far from my normal diet (stupid cheesefries) but that doesn't mean that I don't gain any weight.
And it's ok, you know? I don't own a scale (yet, but need to get one as the midwives request I do my own weighing) and do, especially towards the end, have to close my mind to my own inner voice that pronounces parts of me "pudgy" instead of "pregnant" but it's all apart of the game. I'm not interested in counting calories or working out every single day in order to save ten pounds or whatever it may be. I eat the best I can and I trust that my body knows what it needs and unfortunately for me, you babies like fat. In every single one of my pregnancies, I am a starving fool for the first six weeks, eating nearly around the clock and finding that I do indeed crave...fat. I'm guessing it's because my body, sensing the new renter, panics that I'm not going to have to caloric needs or stores to sustain two beings and therefore goes into that Cheesefry Mode :) I'd rather like to send a memo stating otherwise but I fear it would fall on deaf ears.
So I'm fast approaching my favorite part, the one where my body fills out, the one where you start gaining fast and growing bigger, and the one where I STOP PUKING.
Though, might I just say for skinny girls everywhere, it's really, really fun to have big boobs. And junk in the trunk. I don't hide my belly...or my new, um, accessories, preferring to show off my pregancy instead of keeping everything under wraps. I happen to find being pregnant (and feeling well--this is a KEY component) very sexy. There's something amazingly primal about growing a life and witnessing every stage involved in that, how my body's shape succumbs to accomodate you. I love all of the changes and I feel energized and truly, just...full.
This is not to say that I don't also struggle there at the end. Oh, I do. When I've grown so full I simply can't imagine another inch or another pound ANYWHERE and yet, they just keep coming. I'm human and at that point, I will not feel sexy and curvy, I will feel like a whale. Waddling is never a good way to walk, you can't "work it" with a waddle. And when the junk in the trunk starts over-flowing and the va-va-voomy boobs start leaking...well, let's just concentrate on the good stuff for now, shall we? Because suddenly I'm re-considering all of what I just previously wrote :)
One more thing before I go--
I'd like to apologize for all the smashing of you going on lately. These Littles, while they will love you to pieces upon your arrival, do not seem to care that you are like a captive in there and can not escape when they feel like launching themselves on top of me. We took some good hits this weekend and I yowled as they battered my tender tummy and promise to try and shield you better.
At the same time, I hope you understand that this is the school of hard knocks over here.
When I say your siblings will "love you to pieces" I mean just that.
Toughen up in there.
It's CRAZY on the outside.
Loving you already,
Mama
I keep thinking about how you will be here by then, will have been here for awhile and will have established your place in this family (no doubt living on a THRONE for the first several months as your family just positively drools all over you), and will likely be crawling around wrecking the joint by the time Santa makes his jolly ol' arrival.
THAT is hard for me to comprend right now as I sit here wondering how many more weeks until you are strong enough that I can feel your kicks. It really shouldn't be long, normally I feel my babies pretty early on, between weeks 14 and 16. That early though, I have to be lying SUPER still and be SUPER quiet and I will be lucky to get one good thump every few days but at least then I know it's always a possibility. One of my favorite things about this upcoming part of the pregnancy is privately keeping tabs on you. Sometimes I'll tell the rest of the family when you're up and playing...and other times I like to keep it to myself, tapping back here and there, poking you babies when you poke me.
The other wonderful part of feeling you move is just knowing that you're okay in there. Right now I still can't check in with you, I have no idea how things are going, other than you looked so strong and healthy when we saw you last week. It's a major relief to feel those pounds and bumps because it's you're way of saying..."I'm good, Mama."
My body is changing quickly these days. At first, it was really just my waist that thickened, quite literally, IMMEDIATELY upon receiving knowledge of you and then a small, round tummy appeared like magic. I have no IDEA how it's possible since I don't keep half of what I eat, but I've gained a bit of weight at this point and my body has become all soft and curvy. Very Mama-ish. And truly, I don't mind this so much! It's rather fun for me, a skinny girl at heart, to be somewhat voluptuous for awhile. Now, I don't necessarily relish packing on the pounds but it also can't be helped. Believe me, in the past four pregnancies, I've tried once or twice to eat really, really, really well and in those weeks where I ate my weight in carrots sticks and apple slices, I gained like nine pounds or something ridiculous like that. I don't stray far from my normal diet (stupid cheesefries) but that doesn't mean that I don't gain any weight.
And it's ok, you know? I don't own a scale (yet, but need to get one as the midwives request I do my own weighing) and do, especially towards the end, have to close my mind to my own inner voice that pronounces parts of me "pudgy" instead of "pregnant" but it's all apart of the game. I'm not interested in counting calories or working out every single day in order to save ten pounds or whatever it may be. I eat the best I can and I trust that my body knows what it needs and unfortunately for me, you babies like fat. In every single one of my pregnancies, I am a starving fool for the first six weeks, eating nearly around the clock and finding that I do indeed crave...fat. I'm guessing it's because my body, sensing the new renter, panics that I'm not going to have to caloric needs or stores to sustain two beings and therefore goes into that Cheesefry Mode :) I'd rather like to send a memo stating otherwise but I fear it would fall on deaf ears.
So I'm fast approaching my favorite part, the one where my body fills out, the one where you start gaining fast and growing bigger, and the one where I STOP PUKING.
Though, might I just say for skinny girls everywhere, it's really, really fun to have big boobs. And junk in the trunk. I don't hide my belly...or my new, um, accessories, preferring to show off my pregancy instead of keeping everything under wraps. I happen to find being pregnant (and feeling well--this is a KEY component) very sexy. There's something amazingly primal about growing a life and witnessing every stage involved in that, how my body's shape succumbs to accomodate you. I love all of the changes and I feel energized and truly, just...full.
This is not to say that I don't also struggle there at the end. Oh, I do. When I've grown so full I simply can't imagine another inch or another pound ANYWHERE and yet, they just keep coming. I'm human and at that point, I will not feel sexy and curvy, I will feel like a whale. Waddling is never a good way to walk, you can't "work it" with a waddle. And when the junk in the trunk starts over-flowing and the va-va-voomy boobs start leaking...well, let's just concentrate on the good stuff for now, shall we? Because suddenly I'm re-considering all of what I just previously wrote :)
One more thing before I go--
I'd like to apologize for all the smashing of you going on lately. These Littles, while they will love you to pieces upon your arrival, do not seem to care that you are like a captive in there and can not escape when they feel like launching themselves on top of me. We took some good hits this weekend and I yowled as they battered my tender tummy and promise to try and shield you better.
At the same time, I hope you understand that this is the school of hard knocks over here.
When I say your siblings will "love you to pieces" I mean just that.
Toughen up in there.
It's CRAZY on the outside.
Loving you already,
Mama
Thursday, December 17, 2009
11 Weeks
Apparently, this eleven week "feel better" milestone is no longer a milestone.
I think I'm getting worse, actually!
I lost two meals today--lunch and dinner.
And I awoke from a nap on the couch this afternoon craving an ice cream sundae.
Four scoops of ice cream, one whole banana, and a LOT of chocolate sauce.
You didn't make me throw THAT up, now did you?
Noooo, I eat gobs of fresh green beans and a little bit of protein, even trying a baked potato in the hopes that it'd be bland enough to stay in my tummy.
And you immediately hit the "reject" button on that food.
But the super high calorie ice cream treat, that one can stick around, huh?
You're lucky you're so cute, with those eensy-weensy little hands waving around in there.
Do you want to know what else you want me to rummage up for you?
Cheese fries.
Preferably from the Longhorn Steakhouse, a place I haven't frequented in about, ohhhh, six years maybe.
And the other day, I was actually lost in thought over a cheeseburger from Wendy's but I cut that little trip down memory lane short because there's NO WAY I'm eating a cheesburger. I know it's you asking for that junk too because I simply do not eat this way! It's like you highjacked the niche in my brain where you're able to peruse every single BAD (but tasty, I admit--tasty) food choice I've ever made in my life and you start ordering things from back in 2001!
I wish it were summer so that I could show you how yummy a super ripe peach is, one I picked up from the farmer's market, one that's still warm from sitting out in the sun.
Maybe THEN you'd stop requesting all of the things that I happily live without in my diet.
Unfortunately, the only thing officially in-season right now is winter squash and I worry that if I try THAT on you, you'll make me start eating Crisco.
I took Greer to see "Madeline's Christmas" today downtown and one of our co-op mamas brought along her super cooing and deliciously chubby infant daughter. I think I paid more attention to those little baby grunts and squeals coming from the child than I did to the actors on stage. I was just lost in my own little trips down memory lane and at the same time, I was relishing the idea that soon enough, that mama busy bouncing the baby would be me and the cute coo'er would be YOU.
I'm looking forward to keeping you quiet, bouncing and jiggling, making funny faces, nibbling your little neck, kissing your fleshy cheeks.
Even in the middle of the night.
Sometimes that's my favorite time because it's so private and you babies are always so sweet, nursing away while tugging at my hair, or just quietly studying my face until....zzzzzz.
Loving you already, Junk Food Junkie,
Mama
I think I'm getting worse, actually!
I lost two meals today--lunch and dinner.
And I awoke from a nap on the couch this afternoon craving an ice cream sundae.
Four scoops of ice cream, one whole banana, and a LOT of chocolate sauce.
You didn't make me throw THAT up, now did you?
Noooo, I eat gobs of fresh green beans and a little bit of protein, even trying a baked potato in the hopes that it'd be bland enough to stay in my tummy.
And you immediately hit the "reject" button on that food.
But the super high calorie ice cream treat, that one can stick around, huh?
You're lucky you're so cute, with those eensy-weensy little hands waving around in there.
Do you want to know what else you want me to rummage up for you?
Cheese fries.
Preferably from the Longhorn Steakhouse, a place I haven't frequented in about, ohhhh, six years maybe.
And the other day, I was actually lost in thought over a cheeseburger from Wendy's but I cut that little trip down memory lane short because there's NO WAY I'm eating a cheesburger. I know it's you asking for that junk too because I simply do not eat this way! It's like you highjacked the niche in my brain where you're able to peruse every single BAD (but tasty, I admit--tasty) food choice I've ever made in my life and you start ordering things from back in 2001!
I wish it were summer so that I could show you how yummy a super ripe peach is, one I picked up from the farmer's market, one that's still warm from sitting out in the sun.
Maybe THEN you'd stop requesting all of the things that I happily live without in my diet.
Unfortunately, the only thing officially in-season right now is winter squash and I worry that if I try THAT on you, you'll make me start eating Crisco.
I took Greer to see "Madeline's Christmas" today downtown and one of our co-op mamas brought along her super cooing and deliciously chubby infant daughter. I think I paid more attention to those little baby grunts and squeals coming from the child than I did to the actors on stage. I was just lost in my own little trips down memory lane and at the same time, I was relishing the idea that soon enough, that mama busy bouncing the baby would be me and the cute coo'er would be YOU.
I'm looking forward to keeping you quiet, bouncing and jiggling, making funny faces, nibbling your little neck, kissing your fleshy cheeks.
Even in the middle of the night.
Sometimes that's my favorite time because it's so private and you babies are always so sweet, nursing away while tugging at my hair, or just quietly studying my face until....zzzzzz.
Loving you already, Junk Food Junkie,
Mama
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
10 Weeks, 6 Days
Well, I had planned on writing to you the very day after we saw you but just like that, I was down, down, down again.
Monday had been an oddly terrific day, all through the day even, and I really was able to catch a glimpse of my former self for a bit.
But then, I awoke on Tuesday swirling with nausea, lost my breakfast, and attempted to spend as much of the day in bed as possible. Daddy and I had planned an evening out for Christmas shopping and I wasn't sure if I was going to be up to it. Some how I managed, late into the night, but honestly, I never felt right.
Today started off with a bang and truly, I didn't have time to feel my sickness and maybe that's why I didn't. I've had the luxury of time on my hands here at home (can I just say again that your conception was beautifully planned?) so I can sit around for a bit and grow sick as the morning minutes pass by. Today, I could not. I'd massively over-scheduled and not only that, attempted to bathe and dress both of your wee siblings PLUS myself, all within an hour, all for a Christmas program, and by the grace of God, I managed to get out of the house on time but just barely.
I think perhaps I have a touch of motion sickness or something because riding in the car seems to bring out the worst in my nausea. It's interesting though because I've never suffered from anything like that before but lately I've found myself dreading car rides as by the time I arrive at my destination, I'm literally green.
So today started fast and furious and has ended poorly. I spent the afternoon napping along with Creux and when I awoke, I didn't feel any better. By the time dinner arrived in the form of Chinese take-out, I somehow found enough time to ask your daddy to quick clean the potty before I deposited my meal in it and I've been lounging ever since.
I'm laying here on the couch writing you, something I think I will always associate with this early pregnancy,(hauling my laptop over in front of the fire, curled up with my blanket, computer propped up with sofa pillows because I have an irrational fear of what the electromagnetic waves might be doing to you--should they tell you differently, I'm here to say now that you only need TEN fingers and toes, not a digit more.) and I'm still not certain that we're "done" for the evening.
I'm so tired of throwing up.
But let me circle back around to seeing you because I don't want to forget anything about the evening and if I wait to feel any better, I probably will leave something important out.
The ultrasound people bumped my 8:20pm appointment back to 8:40 on that night, leaving your dad to push for your siblings to stay home. We could easily have put Creux monster to bed, having Chas hold down the fort for the hour or so we would be gone, and I almost agreed because as the time passed, I began dreading taking Creux out so late. He goes a bit wacky when tired and I was afraid he'd be obnoxiously disruptive and that was the LAST thing I wanted to deal with in there, seeing you for the first time.
But we stuck with the plan.
And I'll be forever happy that we did!
After getting in the room (which was super comfy and big--big enough for our gang!), I settled in on the table and the tech rubbed warm gel on my tummy and as soon as she applied the wand, there you were!
I saw you immediately, and I remember clearly that I saw you, and then she moved the wand and you disappeared from view as fast as you'd arrived but already the image was burned on my mind. I knew exactly how you were laying, and had I taken the wand from her, I knew right where to find you.
You're laying on your side, on the left of my belly.
And I'd made a comment on my other blog about seeing my cute little "alien" baby photos but I need to take that back.
Because you weren't what I was expecting to see.
Normally, our first ultrasound comes along very early in pregnancy, maybe between weeks six and eight.
And typically, we see a little shrimp baby, one not moving, curled over with a wee tail, head massively over-sized in relation to midgie body.
What absolutely amazed me about you was that at ten weeks and four days, you are completely whole. Surely you have TONS of growing to do yet but...you are a baby.
You are not a stationary bundle of mass, still stitching yourself together, which is what I was expecting to see.
I didn't see arm buds--I saw arms, with little hands attached.
And I saw cute, long, little legs kicking around with wee bitty feet pointing and flexing into space.
You are a half an inch and you are marvelous.
I've never felt like I've needed a visual to "bond" with my babies-to-be, nor have I ever felt the need to know the gender to "identify" with any of you kids, either.
You are mine from even before conception, if I'm honest.
I once read that you have over several million combinations of a person that could be created from one "try" for them. And depending on which egg is released and which sperm is used for fertilization, you get this one supremely unique soul, never to be duplicated again. Sort of like a snowflake. So that's always fascinated me, thinking that each month, the possible "you" would always be different from the month before.
A friend asked me once if I felt like Greer was maybe the same soul that I lost weeks before her conception and I didn't even have to think before I answered, "No." Greer is Greer. That baby will always be a mystery to me though I hope one day to know who he/she was. I'd like to think that at some point in my post-life that I'll have a chance to reunite. I say reunite because I think I'd know instantly if I were ever so lucky to cross paths as we've certainly met. The grief I experienced from that loss was unlike any other grief I have known in my life--the fact that I'd only known of the baby for a week was not relevant in my heart.
I was already a mother again.
So I didn't NEED to see you in order to connect with you but I can't tell you how much I loved doing so. Especially since I've felt so bad, it just helped click things into place for me. OF COURSE I'm sick! Look at what you've done in there! You have been working incredibly hard and you have formed yourself out of nothing but two puzzle pieces and a wish and a prayer. I was tremendously impressed at how little-one-half-inch-you has done so much and oh yes, I was proud. I was beaming in there, cooing over your tiny bits and that was even before you started moving around!
I'd had a bit of apple juice in the car in the hopes that it would prod you to perk up for the "camera" and at first you were a smidgey shy. We could see all of you but you held very still, perhaps processing my own stillness...and the fact that something massive was mashing down on your little apartment. Within a minute or two though you jerked a few times and then all of a sudden you were wiggling all over the place! It seemed to me like you were just checking out all your new pieces, lifting a hand here, swirling your a leg there. Many times you waved to us and though the Littles had a hard time seeing much of what was going on (it's confusing to them--they thought they were going to see a full-term squalling infant) they could see your little hand floating across the screen and we all started pointing and laughing, tickled that you were saying hello to your family. Your big brothers were incredibly sweet--both were just glued to your image on the screen, as was I.
I'd like to point out that your hand, your WHOLE HAND, is the size of my pinky nail.
I never knew a hand could be so sweet.
I've seen sweet little newborn hands, and I even marvel still at Creux's, his sturdy paw placed in mine, but that tiny fingernail-sized one that you've got takes the sweetness cake.
I'm so glad that we had a later-than-normal first ultrasound as we experienced you like we've never experienced your siblings. There's an enormous difference in growth over that month that we waited and if I should ever find myself in this position again, we'll do it this way again! It was so very captivating to see you dancing away inside my belly and the whole time I laid there thinking, "I can't feel a thing!" It's funny to me to think of myself sleeping away and you spinning around in there, in the dark, all by your lonesome. Party for one.
One other thing--word about you has definitely gotten out with the hometown crowd. Certainly anyone who reads my blog or comes into my small circle of friends has known but suddenly, my in-box and Facebook account are filled with inquiries and congratulatory messages.
A common thread to these emails, goes something like this..."..heard a rumor...so happy for you...how are you feeling....ARE YOU CRAZY????"
And I get it. I really do get it.
Yes, I am a little bit crazy but that has nothing to do with wanting you.
And I don't think anyone intends this comment to be hurtful in any manner, I think that most people just can't imagine raising five children.
So when I read that, I do smile, and I do play along a bit but at the same time I wonder...
How can they see that I'm not crazy, I'm LUCKY.
I get to experience giving someone a life, bringing someone into the world, more times than most, and I cherish that more than anyone will ever begin to imagine.
We get one go-round here on earth.
I don't have forever left in which to make decisions on my family size so it's sort of now or never.
I will never regret bringing someone here.
But I think I would regret not.
So, I'm going with it, lucky girl that I am.
Loving you already, Dancing Queen (or King),
Mama
Monday had been an oddly terrific day, all through the day even, and I really was able to catch a glimpse of my former self for a bit.
But then, I awoke on Tuesday swirling with nausea, lost my breakfast, and attempted to spend as much of the day in bed as possible. Daddy and I had planned an evening out for Christmas shopping and I wasn't sure if I was going to be up to it. Some how I managed, late into the night, but honestly, I never felt right.
Today started off with a bang and truly, I didn't have time to feel my sickness and maybe that's why I didn't. I've had the luxury of time on my hands here at home (can I just say again that your conception was beautifully planned?) so I can sit around for a bit and grow sick as the morning minutes pass by. Today, I could not. I'd massively over-scheduled and not only that, attempted to bathe and dress both of your wee siblings PLUS myself, all within an hour, all for a Christmas program, and by the grace of God, I managed to get out of the house on time but just barely.
I think perhaps I have a touch of motion sickness or something because riding in the car seems to bring out the worst in my nausea. It's interesting though because I've never suffered from anything like that before but lately I've found myself dreading car rides as by the time I arrive at my destination, I'm literally green.
So today started fast and furious and has ended poorly. I spent the afternoon napping along with Creux and when I awoke, I didn't feel any better. By the time dinner arrived in the form of Chinese take-out, I somehow found enough time to ask your daddy to quick clean the potty before I deposited my meal in it and I've been lounging ever since.
I'm laying here on the couch writing you, something I think I will always associate with this early pregnancy,(hauling my laptop over in front of the fire, curled up with my blanket, computer propped up with sofa pillows because I have an irrational fear of what the electromagnetic waves might be doing to you--should they tell you differently, I'm here to say now that you only need TEN fingers and toes, not a digit more.) and I'm still not certain that we're "done" for the evening.
I'm so tired of throwing up.
But let me circle back around to seeing you because I don't want to forget anything about the evening and if I wait to feel any better, I probably will leave something important out.
The ultrasound people bumped my 8:20pm appointment back to 8:40 on that night, leaving your dad to push for your siblings to stay home. We could easily have put Creux monster to bed, having Chas hold down the fort for the hour or so we would be gone, and I almost agreed because as the time passed, I began dreading taking Creux out so late. He goes a bit wacky when tired and I was afraid he'd be obnoxiously disruptive and that was the LAST thing I wanted to deal with in there, seeing you for the first time.
But we stuck with the plan.
And I'll be forever happy that we did!
After getting in the room (which was super comfy and big--big enough for our gang!), I settled in on the table and the tech rubbed warm gel on my tummy and as soon as she applied the wand, there you were!
I saw you immediately, and I remember clearly that I saw you, and then she moved the wand and you disappeared from view as fast as you'd arrived but already the image was burned on my mind. I knew exactly how you were laying, and had I taken the wand from her, I knew right where to find you.
You're laying on your side, on the left of my belly.
And I'd made a comment on my other blog about seeing my cute little "alien" baby photos but I need to take that back.
Because you weren't what I was expecting to see.
Normally, our first ultrasound comes along very early in pregnancy, maybe between weeks six and eight.
And typically, we see a little shrimp baby, one not moving, curled over with a wee tail, head massively over-sized in relation to midgie body.
What absolutely amazed me about you was that at ten weeks and four days, you are completely whole. Surely you have TONS of growing to do yet but...you are a baby.
You are not a stationary bundle of mass, still stitching yourself together, which is what I was expecting to see.
I didn't see arm buds--I saw arms, with little hands attached.
And I saw cute, long, little legs kicking around with wee bitty feet pointing and flexing into space.
You are a half an inch and you are marvelous.
I've never felt like I've needed a visual to "bond" with my babies-to-be, nor have I ever felt the need to know the gender to "identify" with any of you kids, either.
You are mine from even before conception, if I'm honest.
I once read that you have over several million combinations of a person that could be created from one "try" for them. And depending on which egg is released and which sperm is used for fertilization, you get this one supremely unique soul, never to be duplicated again. Sort of like a snowflake. So that's always fascinated me, thinking that each month, the possible "you" would always be different from the month before.
A friend asked me once if I felt like Greer was maybe the same soul that I lost weeks before her conception and I didn't even have to think before I answered, "No." Greer is Greer. That baby will always be a mystery to me though I hope one day to know who he/she was. I'd like to think that at some point in my post-life that I'll have a chance to reunite. I say reunite because I think I'd know instantly if I were ever so lucky to cross paths as we've certainly met. The grief I experienced from that loss was unlike any other grief I have known in my life--the fact that I'd only known of the baby for a week was not relevant in my heart.
I was already a mother again.
So I didn't NEED to see you in order to connect with you but I can't tell you how much I loved doing so. Especially since I've felt so bad, it just helped click things into place for me. OF COURSE I'm sick! Look at what you've done in there! You have been working incredibly hard and you have formed yourself out of nothing but two puzzle pieces and a wish and a prayer. I was tremendously impressed at how little-one-half-inch-you has done so much and oh yes, I was proud. I was beaming in there, cooing over your tiny bits and that was even before you started moving around!
I'd had a bit of apple juice in the car in the hopes that it would prod you to perk up for the "camera" and at first you were a smidgey shy. We could see all of you but you held very still, perhaps processing my own stillness...and the fact that something massive was mashing down on your little apartment. Within a minute or two though you jerked a few times and then all of a sudden you were wiggling all over the place! It seemed to me like you were just checking out all your new pieces, lifting a hand here, swirling your a leg there. Many times you waved to us and though the Littles had a hard time seeing much of what was going on (it's confusing to them--they thought they were going to see a full-term squalling infant) they could see your little hand floating across the screen and we all started pointing and laughing, tickled that you were saying hello to your family. Your big brothers were incredibly sweet--both were just glued to your image on the screen, as was I.
I'd like to point out that your hand, your WHOLE HAND, is the size of my pinky nail.
I never knew a hand could be so sweet.
I've seen sweet little newborn hands, and I even marvel still at Creux's, his sturdy paw placed in mine, but that tiny fingernail-sized one that you've got takes the sweetness cake.
I'm so glad that we had a later-than-normal first ultrasound as we experienced you like we've never experienced your siblings. There's an enormous difference in growth over that month that we waited and if I should ever find myself in this position again, we'll do it this way again! It was so very captivating to see you dancing away inside my belly and the whole time I laid there thinking, "I can't feel a thing!" It's funny to me to think of myself sleeping away and you spinning around in there, in the dark, all by your lonesome. Party for one.
One other thing--word about you has definitely gotten out with the hometown crowd. Certainly anyone who reads my blog or comes into my small circle of friends has known but suddenly, my in-box and Facebook account are filled with inquiries and congratulatory messages.
A common thread to these emails, goes something like this..."..heard a rumor...so happy for you...how are you feeling....ARE YOU CRAZY????"
And I get it. I really do get it.
Yes, I am a little bit crazy but that has nothing to do with wanting you.
And I don't think anyone intends this comment to be hurtful in any manner, I think that most people just can't imagine raising five children.
So when I read that, I do smile, and I do play along a bit but at the same time I wonder...
How can they see that I'm not crazy, I'm LUCKY.
I get to experience giving someone a life, bringing someone into the world, more times than most, and I cherish that more than anyone will ever begin to imagine.
We get one go-round here on earth.
I don't have forever left in which to make decisions on my family size so it's sort of now or never.
I will never regret bringing someone here.
But I think I would regret not.
So, I'm going with it, lucky girl that I am.
Loving you already, Dancing Queen (or King),
Mama
Monday, December 14, 2009
10 Weeks, 4 Days
Surprise!
We're going to see you tonight!
I just got off the phone with the ultrasound people and they had an appointment available at 8:20 this evening and I couldn't help myself! I took it!
I had thought we'd wait just a bit longer--the midwives suggested a few weeks further would give a more accurate ultrasound reading in case there's more than one of you in there but I just couldn't resist when they asked if I wanted to come in TONIGHT.
So I took the appointment and called your Daddy to surprise him:
"Do you feel like seeing your baby tonight?" is what I said and he was quick to say, "YES!"
We'll gather your siblings for this little family field trip and in just a few hours, we'll get a peek at you with that tiny flashing heartbeart. Since you're able to move around in there, (though I can't feel you yet but today had a major flashback to what those first little pelts are like--little bony appendages knocking me in the belly, randomly, as if by chance, somewhat feebly) the receptionist suggested I drink a bit of juice before heading in to get you to wiggle for the camera so we'll see what I can rummage up in the fridge.
I'm actually having a great day today, my nausea only about a three on the scale that seems forever tipped to eight and this just makes it so much better.
See you soon, my love!
Loving you already,
Mama
PS...I don't really think there are two of you in there but I would not be a BIT surprised if that was the news handed to us.
PPS...I don't know what I'll do if your dates are off--all those posts to fix! I don't know how they could be since I'm positive of your conception date (though the time period could be flexible by a day or two, I'm just assuming you happened on the day I know I was ovulating but I guess there is a small window of ambiguity). But we'll see what you're measurement readings say and if I have to change the date titles, I will change the darn date titles. (And will be sort of relieved that there's only about 20!)
We're going to see you tonight!
I just got off the phone with the ultrasound people and they had an appointment available at 8:20 this evening and I couldn't help myself! I took it!
I had thought we'd wait just a bit longer--the midwives suggested a few weeks further would give a more accurate ultrasound reading in case there's more than one of you in there but I just couldn't resist when they asked if I wanted to come in TONIGHT.
So I took the appointment and called your Daddy to surprise him:
"Do you feel like seeing your baby tonight?" is what I said and he was quick to say, "YES!"
We'll gather your siblings for this little family field trip and in just a few hours, we'll get a peek at you with that tiny flashing heartbeart. Since you're able to move around in there, (though I can't feel you yet but today had a major flashback to what those first little pelts are like--little bony appendages knocking me in the belly, randomly, as if by chance, somewhat feebly) the receptionist suggested I drink a bit of juice before heading in to get you to wiggle for the camera so we'll see what I can rummage up in the fridge.
I'm actually having a great day today, my nausea only about a three on the scale that seems forever tipped to eight and this just makes it so much better.
See you soon, my love!
Loving you already,
Mama
PS...I don't really think there are two of you in there but I would not be a BIT surprised if that was the news handed to us.
PPS...I don't know what I'll do if your dates are off--all those posts to fix! I don't know how they could be since I'm positive of your conception date (though the time period could be flexible by a day or two, I'm just assuming you happened on the day I know I was ovulating but I guess there is a small window of ambiguity). But we'll see what you're measurement readings say and if I have to change the date titles, I will change the darn date titles. (And will be sort of relieved that there's only about 20!)
Sunday, December 13, 2009
10 Weeks, 3 Days
I promise I'll get better about updating this blog/book as the weeks progress.
I'm hoping we're getting ready to turn an important corner, one in which I will be able to return to the world, one in which there isn't even a hint of nausea, DEFINITELY no vomiting, and where I pop out of bed in the mornings once again excited to greet the day.
Okay, maybe that was a bit much :)
Modification:
Where I can at least drag myself out of bed and can make it through the day minus three naps.
Still DEFINITELY no vomit.
The days are hit or miss for me right now which honestly seems to be progress from the point where every day is just yuck.
The nausea is still bad and while the vomiting is dwindling down, it can't happen disappear soon enough.
It seems that just when I think it's gone for good, it comes back with a vengence.
Perhaps you're wondering if this is how all of my pregnancies were and the answer is a resounding "no".
With Chas, I was hit hardest with fatigue--a fatigue so thorough to the bone that I still remember it clearly.
Rhyse gave me more trouble than that and it was first with him that the morning sickness really took hold. But I probably actually only truly got sick a dozen or so times.
Greer started off rough but goes down in history as my most fantastic pregnancy. Once I passed the vomiting part, I felt AMAZING. She just mixed with me so well. I actually felt energized when I was carrying her--often times I commented that I felt better than normal.
I didn't get that lucky twice in a row though because as great as she made me feel, that's how much Creux took from me. My morning sickness was bad, really bad, (but no where NEAR holding a candle to you, my love) and I felt completely drained for the duration of his pregnancy. When he came out at nearly a whopping nine pounds (nine pounds IS whopping for a gal my size) I wasn't a bit surprised. He'd been sucking the life right out of me while turning himself into a sausage!
You, I am sorry to say, have not been easy so far and THAT is an understatement. With you, it seems to be worst case senario sickness-wise though I am praying (begging, pleading, bargaining) that we are close to that corner turn. It usually happens for me around week 11 or 12. We are just days away from week 11 and I'm really only doing marginally better so I'm just closing my eyes and wishing hard for week 12. I can hang in there for another week and a half. (Can't I?)
Last week was particularly difficult which again had me ignoring this blog space. It's easier for me to write about how bad things are in the past tense than it is for me to sit in the moment and re-live it a bit. The last time I did that, I cried the whole time I wrote and that's not the way I want to remember writing to you. And I promise that these darn posts will get cheerier and at some point you will realize that I have quite a good sense of humor but I know it's not shining through currently. I laughed the other day for the first time in a long time and felt like I'd pulled a stomach muscle. It's been THAT long since I've truly enjoyed myself.
We had a bout of company all week long and while it was terrific fun, it was stressful for me. Up until their arrival, I had parked my duff on the couch for hours and hours on end and suddenly, I couldn't lounge like that anymore though I desperately wanted to. This house was full of love and laughter but it was such bad timing for me that I really couldn't and didn't partake in the fun. I tried to rally and I did manage to do that often but in the end, the additional stress, on top of the sickness, on top of the fast approaching holiday, did me in. I've realized that I am not currently able to cope with stress in the most...reasonable...of ways right now.
Instead, I cry.
Actually, I weep and I wail and I rage until I'm breathless and sniffling and my eyes are swollen for the whole next day.
I believe they call these emotions "mood swings" and let me tell you, they are WICKED little forces of nature.
They are so wicked, in fact, that I can be completely unreasonable, I can UNDERSTAND that I am being completely unreasonable and yet, I can not stop myself. For whatever reason, I can know this and I just can't shut my mouth from moving. I'll give you two guesses who is bearing the brunt of this wonderful side effect of pregnancy and he's the one who gave you the other half of your chromosomes :) He's holding up fine, and he does a pretty good job of tempering my emotional outbursts (which always ends with, "I can't doooooo this anymore!" As if I have a choice of quitting, right?) but sometimes he actually tries to reason with me and boy, does that NOT go over so well. What he doesn't understand is that I know when I'm being crazy; I'm just not able to find my sane. I don't want to be reasoned with, I just want to be listened to. Even if it's wacky and emotional and sometimes totally wrong.
We visited with our midwives last week and it went amazingly well! The first appointment was just an over-view of concepts...making sure that we're a good fit for one another. But from the moment I walked in, I knew we were where we needed to be. We were assigned two woment to work with--one is older and much more experienced (Abby) and the other is younger, more my contemporay, less experienced but perhaps a better "match" (Jill). They work in that pairing together and they will be the ones assisting us in getting you here safely.
What I loved the most about that visit was realizing that I have the opportunity to experience your birth in a way that I've never done before. I am in complete control of the situation--I get to choose how (water birth?), where (I have this crazy idea of a little white canopy on the back deck with twinkling white lights inside, a little "party" room per se--offering privacy but allowing me the freedom of being outdoors), and in what way (I want very little in the way of intervention, I want Daddy to deliver and I want to help catch you, I want the kids close (but not too close), I want the comfort of home--I want to labor here and to recover here and to have my family whole immediately after your arrival).
All of these things are possible for me at this point. Because my births are very easy and typically uncomplicated, I am very much at ease with this decision.
In fact, I'm EXCITED.
This is not to say it doesn't scare me a bit--labor is always a bit frightening for me once I realize that "it's time" but I will be in very capable hands.
And I'm putting full faith in trusting the process.
Women have safely had babies at home for centuries.
I see no reason why I can't share in that experience.
My body was engineered for this very life-giving event and as I well know, it runs on auto-pilot, in complete sync with yours to get you here into my waiting arms. (Which are already waiting, by the way.)
I trust in that. I find comfort in that. And I'm looking very forward to the entire experience.
Some low and high points from last week:
--After the visit with the midwives, I couldn't stop thinking about you, the full-term you, and it definitely lifted my spirits. So far, I just imagine you as the little olive-sized cutie that you are. But talking about the birth kept taking me back to the moment when Creux slipped from my body, squalling and gorgeously pink, a massively healthy and lively little baby...my stomach drops a bit when I imagine that coming up again for me. That moment where you leave my body and I reach out for you for the first time, eager to draw you close, to meet you finally, to count your fingers and toes and to marvel at the miracle of you. Interestingly, I always forget about the whole gender thing. Isn't that funny? You'd think it would be the very first thing that comes to my mind after all the waiting and wondering but it isn't. All I can think it...thank you, thank you, thank you. I am so lucky.
--Those same midwives encourage a high protein diet for both of our nutritional needs so I've stepped up my consumption of all things protein-y. Eating protein does NOT mean that I have to eat a diet high in animal content which is great because I don't. I do eat my fair share of feathered friends but have tried to add in lots of seeds and nuts, too. In regards to my morning sickness, it was suggested to me to nibble on some form of protein every little while so I jumped right in. On Saturday, I had sunflower seeds all.day.long. and then I had chicken at dinner, followed by a 10pm snack of sliced apples and peanut butter. By 1am, I threw every last bit of it up into the toilet. Have never thrown up in the middle of the night before, young one, and did not care for it one little bit. And am also now highly suspicious of any remedy for morning sickness. Do you know what people need to say in response to a complaining mama-to-be? "Buck up." Because there isn't an ounce of ginger or peppermint or protein that has even taken the darn edge off my sickness. I'm just digging my heels in at this point. And when I can't hold it at bay, I don't. And yes, I feel very sorry for myself, in case you were wondering :)
--It does not escape my notice ever that you will be here next year. I think of you when Christmas shopping, oogling the tons of cute little rattles and other baby things that I see in catalogs. I thought of you when decorating the tree, realizing that we need another little stocking. And looking at a family photo taken yesterday at a Christmas party, I noticed your absence. I saw where you would be sitting and it just looked a family member short to me. Because you already exist so much for me, it DOES feel like an absence of sorts.
--During a nap today, I saw that same Christmas photo and you were no longer missing. You were there, on Santa's lap, smiling and babbling, in the most beautifully girlish Christmas dress ever. I think I had even managed to stick a bow to your three hairs.
I still think you are a girl.
Loving you always,
Mama
I'm hoping we're getting ready to turn an important corner, one in which I will be able to return to the world, one in which there isn't even a hint of nausea, DEFINITELY no vomiting, and where I pop out of bed in the mornings once again excited to greet the day.
Okay, maybe that was a bit much :)
Modification:
Where I can at least drag myself out of bed and can make it through the day minus three naps.
Still DEFINITELY no vomit.
The days are hit or miss for me right now which honestly seems to be progress from the point where every day is just yuck.
The nausea is still bad and while the vomiting is dwindling down, it can't happen disappear soon enough.
It seems that just when I think it's gone for good, it comes back with a vengence.
Perhaps you're wondering if this is how all of my pregnancies were and the answer is a resounding "no".
With Chas, I was hit hardest with fatigue--a fatigue so thorough to the bone that I still remember it clearly.
Rhyse gave me more trouble than that and it was first with him that the morning sickness really took hold. But I probably actually only truly got sick a dozen or so times.
Greer started off rough but goes down in history as my most fantastic pregnancy. Once I passed the vomiting part, I felt AMAZING. She just mixed with me so well. I actually felt energized when I was carrying her--often times I commented that I felt better than normal.
I didn't get that lucky twice in a row though because as great as she made me feel, that's how much Creux took from me. My morning sickness was bad, really bad, (but no where NEAR holding a candle to you, my love) and I felt completely drained for the duration of his pregnancy. When he came out at nearly a whopping nine pounds (nine pounds IS whopping for a gal my size) I wasn't a bit surprised. He'd been sucking the life right out of me while turning himself into a sausage!
You, I am sorry to say, have not been easy so far and THAT is an understatement. With you, it seems to be worst case senario sickness-wise though I am praying (begging, pleading, bargaining) that we are close to that corner turn. It usually happens for me around week 11 or 12. We are just days away from week 11 and I'm really only doing marginally better so I'm just closing my eyes and wishing hard for week 12. I can hang in there for another week and a half. (Can't I?)
Last week was particularly difficult which again had me ignoring this blog space. It's easier for me to write about how bad things are in the past tense than it is for me to sit in the moment and re-live it a bit. The last time I did that, I cried the whole time I wrote and that's not the way I want to remember writing to you. And I promise that these darn posts will get cheerier and at some point you will realize that I have quite a good sense of humor but I know it's not shining through currently. I laughed the other day for the first time in a long time and felt like I'd pulled a stomach muscle. It's been THAT long since I've truly enjoyed myself.
We had a bout of company all week long and while it was terrific fun, it was stressful for me. Up until their arrival, I had parked my duff on the couch for hours and hours on end and suddenly, I couldn't lounge like that anymore though I desperately wanted to. This house was full of love and laughter but it was such bad timing for me that I really couldn't and didn't partake in the fun. I tried to rally and I did manage to do that often but in the end, the additional stress, on top of the sickness, on top of the fast approaching holiday, did me in. I've realized that I am not currently able to cope with stress in the most...reasonable...of ways right now.
Instead, I cry.
Actually, I weep and I wail and I rage until I'm breathless and sniffling and my eyes are swollen for the whole next day.
I believe they call these emotions "mood swings" and let me tell you, they are WICKED little forces of nature.
They are so wicked, in fact, that I can be completely unreasonable, I can UNDERSTAND that I am being completely unreasonable and yet, I can not stop myself. For whatever reason, I can know this and I just can't shut my mouth from moving. I'll give you two guesses who is bearing the brunt of this wonderful side effect of pregnancy and he's the one who gave you the other half of your chromosomes :) He's holding up fine, and he does a pretty good job of tempering my emotional outbursts (which always ends with, "I can't doooooo this anymore!" As if I have a choice of quitting, right?) but sometimes he actually tries to reason with me and boy, does that NOT go over so well. What he doesn't understand is that I know when I'm being crazy; I'm just not able to find my sane. I don't want to be reasoned with, I just want to be listened to. Even if it's wacky and emotional and sometimes totally wrong.
We visited with our midwives last week and it went amazingly well! The first appointment was just an over-view of concepts...making sure that we're a good fit for one another. But from the moment I walked in, I knew we were where we needed to be. We were assigned two woment to work with--one is older and much more experienced (Abby) and the other is younger, more my contemporay, less experienced but perhaps a better "match" (Jill). They work in that pairing together and they will be the ones assisting us in getting you here safely.
What I loved the most about that visit was realizing that I have the opportunity to experience your birth in a way that I've never done before. I am in complete control of the situation--I get to choose how (water birth?), where (I have this crazy idea of a little white canopy on the back deck with twinkling white lights inside, a little "party" room per se--offering privacy but allowing me the freedom of being outdoors), and in what way (I want very little in the way of intervention, I want Daddy to deliver and I want to help catch you, I want the kids close (but not too close), I want the comfort of home--I want to labor here and to recover here and to have my family whole immediately after your arrival).
All of these things are possible for me at this point. Because my births are very easy and typically uncomplicated, I am very much at ease with this decision.
In fact, I'm EXCITED.
This is not to say it doesn't scare me a bit--labor is always a bit frightening for me once I realize that "it's time" but I will be in very capable hands.
And I'm putting full faith in trusting the process.
Women have safely had babies at home for centuries.
I see no reason why I can't share in that experience.
My body was engineered for this very life-giving event and as I well know, it runs on auto-pilot, in complete sync with yours to get you here into my waiting arms. (Which are already waiting, by the way.)
I trust in that. I find comfort in that. And I'm looking very forward to the entire experience.
Some low and high points from last week:
--After the visit with the midwives, I couldn't stop thinking about you, the full-term you, and it definitely lifted my spirits. So far, I just imagine you as the little olive-sized cutie that you are. But talking about the birth kept taking me back to the moment when Creux slipped from my body, squalling and gorgeously pink, a massively healthy and lively little baby...my stomach drops a bit when I imagine that coming up again for me. That moment where you leave my body and I reach out for you for the first time, eager to draw you close, to meet you finally, to count your fingers and toes and to marvel at the miracle of you. Interestingly, I always forget about the whole gender thing. Isn't that funny? You'd think it would be the very first thing that comes to my mind after all the waiting and wondering but it isn't. All I can think it...thank you, thank you, thank you. I am so lucky.
--Those same midwives encourage a high protein diet for both of our nutritional needs so I've stepped up my consumption of all things protein-y. Eating protein does NOT mean that I have to eat a diet high in animal content which is great because I don't. I do eat my fair share of feathered friends but have tried to add in lots of seeds and nuts, too. In regards to my morning sickness, it was suggested to me to nibble on some form of protein every little while so I jumped right in. On Saturday, I had sunflower seeds all.day.long. and then I had chicken at dinner, followed by a 10pm snack of sliced apples and peanut butter. By 1am, I threw every last bit of it up into the toilet. Have never thrown up in the middle of the night before, young one, and did not care for it one little bit. And am also now highly suspicious of any remedy for morning sickness. Do you know what people need to say in response to a complaining mama-to-be? "Buck up." Because there isn't an ounce of ginger or peppermint or protein that has even taken the darn edge off my sickness. I'm just digging my heels in at this point. And when I can't hold it at bay, I don't. And yes, I feel very sorry for myself, in case you were wondering :)
--It does not escape my notice ever that you will be here next year. I think of you when Christmas shopping, oogling the tons of cute little rattles and other baby things that I see in catalogs. I thought of you when decorating the tree, realizing that we need another little stocking. And looking at a family photo taken yesterday at a Christmas party, I noticed your absence. I saw where you would be sitting and it just looked a family member short to me. Because you already exist so much for me, it DOES feel like an absence of sorts.
--During a nap today, I saw that same Christmas photo and you were no longer missing. You were there, on Santa's lap, smiling and babbling, in the most beautifully girlish Christmas dress ever. I think I had even managed to stick a bow to your three hairs.
I still think you are a girl.
Loving you always,
Mama
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
9 Weeks, 4 Days
Okay, so apparently we aren't quite done with the whole puke-y bit.
I stand corrected.
(Did you wait for me to make that announcement on purpose and only to prove me wrong?)
It hit me so suddenly this morning, took me by such surprise, that I was mid-conversation with your Daddy and I just...vanished!
I thought it was just a bout of the nausea but no, no, no.
There was toast behind that bite.
On a lighter note from yesterday's boo-hoo-hoo fest, I'd like you to know that we have this whole vomiting thing down to a science.
I typically make a formal, "I'm going to puke" announcement (but really, was so caught off-guard today that I don't even think I managed a "just a minute" finger in the air).
After several minutes of terrific vocals in the bathroom, I am brought a soppy paper towel and a glass of water.
Occasionally, I receive a courtesy flush.
(Which always makes me wonder, why don't I do that sooner?)
It's nice that Daddy braves my nasty, isn't it?
I'd like to think I would do that same.
But I hope that I NEVER have to find out :)
I'm really no better off today, I just have higher spirits.
I hear that you are the size of a grape these days.
I never knew that something the size of a grape could wreak this much personal damage!
I must say, I'm rather impressed at your ability to follow directions.
When I suggested that you not stray from your blueprint and that you find a secure home inside me, you did not take my words lightly, did you?!
Apparently, you made yourself right at home, moved right in, and began a massive, kick-butt, re-modeling of the joint.
I'm not upset about it; all of this is a GOOD thing.
I just wish you'd tread with a lighter foot sometimes is all.
(Pretty please? Certainly, don't release your hold but do you HAVE to knock down ALL the walls and rip up ALL the floorboards in your quest to make the place YOURS?)
Tomorrow is an exciting day for us as we're going to meet our midwife group! Unfortunately, I think this is just a consultation visit--there's much to discuss in terms of a home birth and making sure that we're all on the same visionary path.
But they will discover that I am easy to please.
(Really I am, contrary to what you will grow up believing.)
All I want in this case is to make sure that we're both safe and...home.
The details aren't terribly important to me; I'm highly flexible.
I don't have this grandiose idea of the World's Most Perfect Birth.
I imagine it will be as amazing as the four other times--perhaps a lot more comfortable though.
Wait, I should clarify that statement.
We'll be in a more comfortable ENVIRONMENT.
I, however, will be most uncomfortable.
This will be my first fully natural birth experience.
And I am FREAKING OUT about that but I'm letting it go for now.
I'm banking on things going the way they normally do--by the time I begin labor, I'm usually over half way done. I tend to labor for the entire part of the last month, moving those all important dilation numbers right on up to five or six before even embarking on the hard part.
And then you have TWO HOURS to get out.
That's a joke.
Sort of.
But if you could start to get used to that idea, it would be so great for me. I've decided that I can realistically endure two hours of hard, hard labor before I go psycho on everyone.
Please let's not do that.
I plan on having this event on tape :)
Anyway, our appointment tomorrow is supposed to just be a consultation but I'm wondering if there's any wiggle room there at all.
Because I really would like someone to take a look at things, even just whipping out a measuring tape would probably be helpful.
I say this because it has definitely crossed my mind that you might not be alone in there.
Like, there might be someone snuggled up right next to you and if that's the case, I don't which of you I've been writing to this whole time!
In all honestly, it's highly unlikely that you could have a sibling in there--twins don't run in my family.
But...this sickness, my size...it makes me wonder.
Ultrasounds are not offered at the midwives office but I will be making an appointment with a doctor to have one done for me. Certainly, I would like a peek at you (oh, that little flashing heartbeat, I DREAM of it) but I can't seem to justify a reason to pass on one anyway. I won't be taking any standard "tests" to check for genetic abnormalities as it won't make any difference to me what the result could be.
Your mine, period: perfect, or perfectly imperfect.
But I'd like to see you and to make sure that you're okay and growing strong...and to know that you're a singleton.
Or to know that you're not.
I think "someone" might need just a bit of soak time on that.
(Although, I did mention my suspicion to him and asked, "Are you going to be okay if we're having twins?" And he thought and thought and do you want to know what he said? Do you want to hear his epiphany? "Your boobs are going to be REALLY big!" is what popped out of his mouth. So, I suspect he'll be fine. Apparently there are many varied bonuses when one's wife is carrying twins. Ahem.)
I'll probably have no answers tomorrow but we'll see.
If there's a way to convince someone to pretty, pretty please do me a favor...baby, I'm ON it!
Ok, well, we're off to bed now.
"We" as in me and you.
I'm not sleeping well these days due to freakish body temperature issues and the annoying need for a 4am pee.
But I'm trying hard to be a good sleeper now because I never sleep in late pregnancy. I honestly don't know how anyone does. Between being clobbered by wee baby bits from the inside (not surpringly, your brothers Rhyse and Creux were the WORST boxers ever) and by the threat of bladder explosion, it's amazing that any Mama-to-be gets a wink of shut-eye.
I'm going to go enjoy the fact that I can't yet feel your squirms or jerks or pounding fists and feet.
But I have to admit...I am strangely looking forward to it.
It'll give me something NEW to complain about.
Loving you already,
Mama
I stand corrected.
(Did you wait for me to make that announcement on purpose and only to prove me wrong?)
It hit me so suddenly this morning, took me by such surprise, that I was mid-conversation with your Daddy and I just...vanished!
I thought it was just a bout of the nausea but no, no, no.
There was toast behind that bite.
On a lighter note from yesterday's boo-hoo-hoo fest, I'd like you to know that we have this whole vomiting thing down to a science.
I typically make a formal, "I'm going to puke" announcement (but really, was so caught off-guard today that I don't even think I managed a "just a minute" finger in the air).
After several minutes of terrific vocals in the bathroom, I am brought a soppy paper towel and a glass of water.
Occasionally, I receive a courtesy flush.
(Which always makes me wonder, why don't I do that sooner?)
It's nice that Daddy braves my nasty, isn't it?
I'd like to think I would do that same.
But I hope that I NEVER have to find out :)
I'm really no better off today, I just have higher spirits.
I hear that you are the size of a grape these days.
I never knew that something the size of a grape could wreak this much personal damage!
I must say, I'm rather impressed at your ability to follow directions.
When I suggested that you not stray from your blueprint and that you find a secure home inside me, you did not take my words lightly, did you?!
Apparently, you made yourself right at home, moved right in, and began a massive, kick-butt, re-modeling of the joint.
I'm not upset about it; all of this is a GOOD thing.
I just wish you'd tread with a lighter foot sometimes is all.
(Pretty please? Certainly, don't release your hold but do you HAVE to knock down ALL the walls and rip up ALL the floorboards in your quest to make the place YOURS?)
Tomorrow is an exciting day for us as we're going to meet our midwife group! Unfortunately, I think this is just a consultation visit--there's much to discuss in terms of a home birth and making sure that we're all on the same visionary path.
But they will discover that I am easy to please.
(Really I am, contrary to what you will grow up believing.)
All I want in this case is to make sure that we're both safe and...home.
The details aren't terribly important to me; I'm highly flexible.
I don't have this grandiose idea of the World's Most Perfect Birth.
I imagine it will be as amazing as the four other times--perhaps a lot more comfortable though.
Wait, I should clarify that statement.
We'll be in a more comfortable ENVIRONMENT.
I, however, will be most uncomfortable.
This will be my first fully natural birth experience.
And I am FREAKING OUT about that but I'm letting it go for now.
I'm banking on things going the way they normally do--by the time I begin labor, I'm usually over half way done. I tend to labor for the entire part of the last month, moving those all important dilation numbers right on up to five or six before even embarking on the hard part.
And then you have TWO HOURS to get out.
That's a joke.
Sort of.
But if you could start to get used to that idea, it would be so great for me. I've decided that I can realistically endure two hours of hard, hard labor before I go psycho on everyone.
Please let's not do that.
I plan on having this event on tape :)
Anyway, our appointment tomorrow is supposed to just be a consultation but I'm wondering if there's any wiggle room there at all.
Because I really would like someone to take a look at things, even just whipping out a measuring tape would probably be helpful.
I say this because it has definitely crossed my mind that you might not be alone in there.
Like, there might be someone snuggled up right next to you and if that's the case, I don't which of you I've been writing to this whole time!
In all honestly, it's highly unlikely that you could have a sibling in there--twins don't run in my family.
But...this sickness, my size...it makes me wonder.
Ultrasounds are not offered at the midwives office but I will be making an appointment with a doctor to have one done for me. Certainly, I would like a peek at you (oh, that little flashing heartbeat, I DREAM of it) but I can't seem to justify a reason to pass on one anyway. I won't be taking any standard "tests" to check for genetic abnormalities as it won't make any difference to me what the result could be.
Your mine, period: perfect, or perfectly imperfect.
But I'd like to see you and to make sure that you're okay and growing strong...and to know that you're a singleton.
Or to know that you're not.
I think "someone" might need just a bit of soak time on that.
(Although, I did mention my suspicion to him and asked, "Are you going to be okay if we're having twins?" And he thought and thought and do you want to know what he said? Do you want to hear his epiphany? "Your boobs are going to be REALLY big!" is what popped out of his mouth. So, I suspect he'll be fine. Apparently there are many varied bonuses when one's wife is carrying twins. Ahem.)
I'll probably have no answers tomorrow but we'll see.
If there's a way to convince someone to pretty, pretty please do me a favor...baby, I'm ON it!
Ok, well, we're off to bed now.
"We" as in me and you.
I'm not sleeping well these days due to freakish body temperature issues and the annoying need for a 4am pee.
But I'm trying hard to be a good sleeper now because I never sleep in late pregnancy. I honestly don't know how anyone does. Between being clobbered by wee baby bits from the inside (not surpringly, your brothers Rhyse and Creux were the WORST boxers ever) and by the threat of bladder explosion, it's amazing that any Mama-to-be gets a wink of shut-eye.
I'm going to go enjoy the fact that I can't yet feel your squirms or jerks or pounding fists and feet.
But I have to admit...I am strangely looking forward to it.
It'll give me something NEW to complain about.
Loving you already,
Mama
Sunday, December 6, 2009
9 Weeks, 3 Days
Things have been really monumentally crazy around here which is partly to blame for my lack of entry.
We have family in town and it's been a whirlwind of cackling laughter and small people under-foot.
The other part is just "the usual."
And I struggle with truly documenting "the usual" because...well, because I'm really not in a good place and it's hard to write this, knowing these words are final, unless I hit "delete" at some point.
At the same time, what purpose does it serve to document your beginning if I gloss it over and make it all rainbows and butterflies?
It should be true and honest and from my soul and so, I'll tell you honestly where I'm at.
I'm unbelievably miserable.
Writing that sentence instantly snapped tears to my eyes because I hate saying it and I hate that you'll know it.
But it's hard being pregnant.
It's impossibly hard to be this sick, to have so much to do, and to not be able to rally myself.
I hit a wall yesterday.
Up until this point in time, I've spent a vast majority of my days laying around.
I've been sickly for weeks now, and really, I am thrilled to report that I'm no longer vomiting multi-times a day.
But the nausea has seemingly grown worse and I find that I almost want to.
In the end, I do nothing.
I lay around uselessly.
I sit and stare into space.
I sleep in late. I nap in the afternoons. I doze after dinner.
It's just...annoying.
So with all this new activity at home, I've been a bit displaced.
I've had to haul up and at least pretend to participate in the day and some of this has been good for me.
But mostly, I just crave silence and weeks passing on the calendar.
Yesterday I was sitting at my computer for the first time in days, and I just back for a minute and suddenly tears were just streaming down my cheeks.
I really hadn't noticed when I began crying nor did I really know the reason but I knew I needed to hit my own personal bottom.
I headed for the stairs, wanting to curl up in my bed and just...cry, and by the time I made it to the top of the stairway, I was literally running for my room.
I scrambled under the covers, pulled my pillow close and just wailed.
I wailed so long and so loudly that I was afraid I'd draw every single child in the house upstairs, wanting to know who could possibly be so miserable to be sobbing in such a way.
But I couldn't stop and I couldn't quiet myself and I was honestly so stunned by the depths of my own despair that it didn't even sound like me; had I not known that it was, in fact, I, who were making those pitifully body-wracking sobs, I would never had believed it to be true.
I couldn't stop because it felt so...good, in a bad sort of way.
Crying is a stress reliever for me, one that isn't used frequently but serves its purpose well when it's hauled out.
It was more the intensity that surprised me.
Some of my reaction I can, and do, attribute to the wacked-out hormones coursing through my body and the rest is just built-up frustration with feeling so bad all the time.
It is not easy being pregnant.
At least not for me, not right now, not with a life so bursting-at-the-seams full.
Really, it's just not easy being SICK.
So I cried until I couldn't cry any longer.
Daddy came up and stayed with me for awhile, probably figuring he could help calm me, but really, I just needed that meltdown in a bad, bad way.
It felt so wonderful to break down like that, which might sound strange, but normally, I just soldier on.
I'm too busy for that level of drama :)
But yesterday it was just what I needed.
And when I could not summon up one more wail, I stopped.
I let go of my pillow, got out of my bed, opened the draperies and...moved on with my day.
Am I better?
Shrug.
I'm managing.
I suppose I'll look back on this entry and will always hate reading it.
I hated writing it and cried the entire time.
It's difficult to admit how hard this is for me right now.
But this is just a part of the journey, a blip in the road, a fork in the path.
It'll get better.
Loving you already,
Mama
We have family in town and it's been a whirlwind of cackling laughter and small people under-foot.
The other part is just "the usual."
And I struggle with truly documenting "the usual" because...well, because I'm really not in a good place and it's hard to write this, knowing these words are final, unless I hit "delete" at some point.
At the same time, what purpose does it serve to document your beginning if I gloss it over and make it all rainbows and butterflies?
It should be true and honest and from my soul and so, I'll tell you honestly where I'm at.
I'm unbelievably miserable.
Writing that sentence instantly snapped tears to my eyes because I hate saying it and I hate that you'll know it.
But it's hard being pregnant.
It's impossibly hard to be this sick, to have so much to do, and to not be able to rally myself.
I hit a wall yesterday.
Up until this point in time, I've spent a vast majority of my days laying around.
I've been sickly for weeks now, and really, I am thrilled to report that I'm no longer vomiting multi-times a day.
But the nausea has seemingly grown worse and I find that I almost want to.
In the end, I do nothing.
I lay around uselessly.
I sit and stare into space.
I sleep in late. I nap in the afternoons. I doze after dinner.
It's just...annoying.
So with all this new activity at home, I've been a bit displaced.
I've had to haul up and at least pretend to participate in the day and some of this has been good for me.
But mostly, I just crave silence and weeks passing on the calendar.
Yesterday I was sitting at my computer for the first time in days, and I just back for a minute and suddenly tears were just streaming down my cheeks.
I really hadn't noticed when I began crying nor did I really know the reason but I knew I needed to hit my own personal bottom.
I headed for the stairs, wanting to curl up in my bed and just...cry, and by the time I made it to the top of the stairway, I was literally running for my room.
I scrambled under the covers, pulled my pillow close and just wailed.
I wailed so long and so loudly that I was afraid I'd draw every single child in the house upstairs, wanting to know who could possibly be so miserable to be sobbing in such a way.
But I couldn't stop and I couldn't quiet myself and I was honestly so stunned by the depths of my own despair that it didn't even sound like me; had I not known that it was, in fact, I, who were making those pitifully body-wracking sobs, I would never had believed it to be true.
I couldn't stop because it felt so...good, in a bad sort of way.
Crying is a stress reliever for me, one that isn't used frequently but serves its purpose well when it's hauled out.
It was more the intensity that surprised me.
Some of my reaction I can, and do, attribute to the wacked-out hormones coursing through my body and the rest is just built-up frustration with feeling so bad all the time.
It is not easy being pregnant.
At least not for me, not right now, not with a life so bursting-at-the-seams full.
Really, it's just not easy being SICK.
So I cried until I couldn't cry any longer.
Daddy came up and stayed with me for awhile, probably figuring he could help calm me, but really, I just needed that meltdown in a bad, bad way.
It felt so wonderful to break down like that, which might sound strange, but normally, I just soldier on.
I'm too busy for that level of drama :)
But yesterday it was just what I needed.
And when I could not summon up one more wail, I stopped.
I let go of my pillow, got out of my bed, opened the draperies and...moved on with my day.
Am I better?
Shrug.
I'm managing.
I suppose I'll look back on this entry and will always hate reading it.
I hated writing it and cried the entire time.
It's difficult to admit how hard this is for me right now.
But this is just a part of the journey, a blip in the road, a fork in the path.
It'll get better.
Loving you already,
Mama
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
8 Weeks, 6 Days
Today has been such a breath of fresh air for me and I really needed it bad.
Yesterday, I could not hold the nausea at bay.
I didn't vomit but it was so bad that I wanted to.
I just couldn't shake it, not the whole day long.
But today I awoke and felt...almost normal!
I've still been sickly here and there but I've been sticking to just fresh fruits today (you ask for the WORST stuff, I tell you--knock it off!) and it's definitely made a difference.
For today :)
There are days where no amount of bananas is going to help me out so I just need to be happy for what I get.
I was thinking today about your name--I think I know who you will be whether you're a girl or a boy but I'm not totally certain.
Let's just say we have front-runners.
These names are absolutely top-secret, we don't tell family or friends what we're thinking because...well, because we don't like to.
Our names are typically...a bit different...and the natural reaction (for many people) is to do the whole nose-wrinkle thing and say, "Ohhhh. That's....cute."
When really, they don't think it's cute at all and I can totally tell.
But I don't care what other people think of our names so I'm never really interested in getting an opinion and I don't want someone's reaction to sway my decision.
We look high and low for names that "fit" and then we pull the naming trigger.
Period.
Everyone finds out at the same time--my mom, my sister, Charlie's family, the recorder of live births :)
We have had strong family opposition to a name before (my mother about died when we named Rhyse) but it was over and done, there was nothing she could do but accept it, and in the end, I knew we made the right decision for US. Had she known before he arrived, she and I would have engaged in a verbal match-up like no other--she was THAT upset over the name.
But we picked what we wanted and today, there is family harmony :)
Everyone will deal with our selection.
(Eventually.)
Why I'm bringing this up is because something very WEIRD happened recently, regarding your potential name and I still just can't stop being positively baffled over it.
Several weeks ago, we ended our co-op with Showcase night.
You'll figure out what all those words mean soon enough as you will be endlessly dragged to both for years.
Anyway, that night Creux was running around without a shirt on because he'd spilled some water on himself and was near apocalytic over it.
One of our teachers, who isn't intimately familiar with my family but recognized that Creux belonged to me, walked over and she said something along the lines of "He's missing his shirt!"
But where she should have said Creux's name, she said YOUR potential boy one.
"(Super-top-secret largely unknown name) is missing his shirt!" is precisely what I heard.
And I looked at her and I said, "WHAT?"
I was truly taken aback; I was just so thoroughly startled at hearing the name used out-loud (it's not common).
PLUS, I was working hard to hide you still and I was rattled to the core that she picked that name of all the names to toss out...I just couldn't believe it.
She must've known that Creux's name was something...unusual...but how that name, of all the names in the world, she could have mistaken his with was just very Twilight Zone-y to me.
Surely I looked the part because I could barely talk to her.
I was busy wondering who told her my baby name! :)
(No one did, she could never have known in a million years but it was very coincidental--neatly so. Maybe this is the name for you after all?)
Anyway, I nearly killed myself tripping over kids to find your daddy to tell him what had just happened.
He was less than appropriately shocked.
"Really?" he said, like it was no big thing.
I think he received the same look that the teacher did when she called Creux your Maybe Boy Name.
Harumph!
Your Maybe Boy Name does not exist on the 100 Most Popular list in ANY decade.
I've already checked.
Actually, the only of your siblings names to appear anywhere near that list is Greer's middle name: Addison.
Though I usually love many of the names that pop up on those lists, I'm strongly opposed to anything likely to show up three times in one preschool class.
As you will come to know, my name is NOT unusual--"Angela" was like number seven on the Most Popular list in the year of my birth.
I only go by that name if I'm signing documents or if I'm in a LOT of trouble.
(And here I am, 33 years old, sometimes still receiving emails from my mother, who, when mad, bangs out that formal name at the top of her letter.)
"Angi" is no less common and, growing up, there were many of my kind.
So many in fact, that there's another "Angie" in this very family--your aunt on daddy's side.
For a few years, there were TWO Angi/Angie Martins in ONE family and it has ALWAYS been annoyingly confusing.
So you see, this is why I strive for something "different" for you kids. It just always bugged me to hear my name a million times for a million other girls.
I am POSITIVE that this will not happen with you or your siblings :)
Anyway, it'll be neat to see who you end up being.
We're not settled on anything yet though like I said, we have front-runners and every contender is compared to those: "Do we like this better? Or THAT better?"
We have plenty of time though.
We'll pick something perfectly different for you so, no worries in there.
There's a fine line between "unique" and "crazy" and I know the line limits :)
Loving you already,
Mama
Yesterday, I could not hold the nausea at bay.
I didn't vomit but it was so bad that I wanted to.
I just couldn't shake it, not the whole day long.
But today I awoke and felt...almost normal!
I've still been sickly here and there but I've been sticking to just fresh fruits today (you ask for the WORST stuff, I tell you--knock it off!) and it's definitely made a difference.
For today :)
There are days where no amount of bananas is going to help me out so I just need to be happy for what I get.
I was thinking today about your name--I think I know who you will be whether you're a girl or a boy but I'm not totally certain.
Let's just say we have front-runners.
These names are absolutely top-secret, we don't tell family or friends what we're thinking because...well, because we don't like to.
Our names are typically...a bit different...and the natural reaction (for many people) is to do the whole nose-wrinkle thing and say, "Ohhhh. That's....cute."
When really, they don't think it's cute at all and I can totally tell.
But I don't care what other people think of our names so I'm never really interested in getting an opinion and I don't want someone's reaction to sway my decision.
We look high and low for names that "fit" and then we pull the naming trigger.
Period.
Everyone finds out at the same time--my mom, my sister, Charlie's family, the recorder of live births :)
We have had strong family opposition to a name before (my mother about died when we named Rhyse) but it was over and done, there was nothing she could do but accept it, and in the end, I knew we made the right decision for US. Had she known before he arrived, she and I would have engaged in a verbal match-up like no other--she was THAT upset over the name.
But we picked what we wanted and today, there is family harmony :)
Everyone will deal with our selection.
(Eventually.)
Why I'm bringing this up is because something very WEIRD happened recently, regarding your potential name and I still just can't stop being positively baffled over it.
Several weeks ago, we ended our co-op with Showcase night.
You'll figure out what all those words mean soon enough as you will be endlessly dragged to both for years.
Anyway, that night Creux was running around without a shirt on because he'd spilled some water on himself and was near apocalytic over it.
One of our teachers, who isn't intimately familiar with my family but recognized that Creux belonged to me, walked over and she said something along the lines of "He's missing his shirt!"
But where she should have said Creux's name, she said YOUR potential boy one.
"(Super-top-secret largely unknown name) is missing his shirt!" is precisely what I heard.
And I looked at her and I said, "WHAT?"
I was truly taken aback; I was just so thoroughly startled at hearing the name used out-loud (it's not common).
PLUS, I was working hard to hide you still and I was rattled to the core that she picked that name of all the names to toss out...I just couldn't believe it.
She must've known that Creux's name was something...unusual...but how that name, of all the names in the world, she could have mistaken his with was just very Twilight Zone-y to me.
Surely I looked the part because I could barely talk to her.
I was busy wondering who told her my baby name! :)
(No one did, she could never have known in a million years but it was very coincidental--neatly so. Maybe this is the name for you after all?)
Anyway, I nearly killed myself tripping over kids to find your daddy to tell him what had just happened.
He was less than appropriately shocked.
"Really?" he said, like it was no big thing.
I think he received the same look that the teacher did when she called Creux your Maybe Boy Name.
Harumph!
Your Maybe Boy Name does not exist on the 100 Most Popular list in ANY decade.
I've already checked.
Actually, the only of your siblings names to appear anywhere near that list is Greer's middle name: Addison.
Though I usually love many of the names that pop up on those lists, I'm strongly opposed to anything likely to show up three times in one preschool class.
As you will come to know, my name is NOT unusual--"Angela" was like number seven on the Most Popular list in the year of my birth.
I only go by that name if I'm signing documents or if I'm in a LOT of trouble.
(And here I am, 33 years old, sometimes still receiving emails from my mother, who, when mad, bangs out that formal name at the top of her letter.)
"Angi" is no less common and, growing up, there were many of my kind.
So many in fact, that there's another "Angie" in this very family--your aunt on daddy's side.
For a few years, there were TWO Angi/Angie Martins in ONE family and it has ALWAYS been annoyingly confusing.
So you see, this is why I strive for something "different" for you kids. It just always bugged me to hear my name a million times for a million other girls.
I am POSITIVE that this will not happen with you or your siblings :)
Anyway, it'll be neat to see who you end up being.
We're not settled on anything yet though like I said, we have front-runners and every contender is compared to those: "Do we like this better? Or THAT better?"
We have plenty of time though.
We'll pick something perfectly different for you so, no worries in there.
There's a fine line between "unique" and "crazy" and I know the line limits :)
Loving you already,
Mama
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