Can you hear them?
I think maybe you can.
You seem to be a little more aware of your surroundings.
Or, well, MY surroundings.
I noticed the other morning that when they were all leaping and bounding and squealing in my bed while I was trying to coax myself from my cozy perch, you seemed to wake up too.
And I thought...hmmm.
Have they finally broken through to you?
Have you grown so much already that you can hear all of them?
They are disturbers of peace and I'm here to make a formal apology and it's going to be sincere.
It might sound like a joke and it sort of is, but at the same time...it's not.
It's really loud here.
REALLY LOUD.
And it will likely completely over-whelm your small system and send you straight into shock shortly after your arrival.
(This happens to most guests so don't feel bad.)
There is very little I can do about the noise level.
I have tried and failed and if they're waking you now while you're as snug as a snail, then God help you, child.
Because they aren't going to quiet any time soon.
When Creux arrived, he flipped out.
And I mean, flipped out.
The first few days weren't so bad but I really think that he was completely fried by day four of existance.
He wailed miserably, was nearly inconsolable at times, and the only thing that could calm him...was me.
He was the first newborn that we'd ever had to show a preference for a parent.
I never knew a newborn HAD a preference.
But Charlie would try and help, he'd try and relieve me...he'd walk the halls with that baby, he'd swaddle, he'd bounce and coo.
And he was screamed at mercilessly.
I would sit on the couch, exhausted, sick to death of nursing (by day FOUR, I was sick to death....that was indication number one that I was in for some serious trouble), praying silently that Creux would just...stop...screaming.
It was hard.
Some would say it was colic perhaps but...I don't know about that.
I suppose I associate colic more with a dietary issue and I'm pretty careful when nursing newborns.
I know what the triggers are and I avoid them.
If you want my honest opinion, (and I know you do, right?), I think he was totally stressed out from this environment.
His arriving in early October did not provide me with much opportunity to just lounge about for weeks and weeks enjoying my new baby.
In fact, I think I was cheering on the sidelines of a soccer game two days after giving birth to him.
It was a busy time, the busiest time of our year, but also...this is a busy family you're getting.
And they will love you to pieces and they will not ever leave you alone.
You'll be constantly touched and caressed and sometimes poked and probably pinched (I'm so sorry, so, so sorry about that) but mostly they'll just be swarming your area.
Because, see, you will be with me.
Constantly.
And I rarely let go of my newborns, especially just after their arrival.
I want to be with you and I know you want to be with me.
I know that my body offers you tremendous comfort and security so I hold, and hold, and hold.
When we have to go out, you're tucked in a sling and kept close to my heart.
(I do this to keep you near me, to keep my hands free but also to keep others at a distance. Newborns bring out my mama bear and I don't like for you to be too accessible. Strangers are much less likely to approach and touch you if you're strapped in close to me. This becomes terrifically more important during cold and flu season because people love to fondle baby hands...but then you stick them in your mouth and...voila! You're snotty and miserable for days. Family and friends will yank you right out of the sling, they don't care! But neither do I--family and friends have earned their baby snatching rights. Others...not so much. Warning though: we have lots of family and friends. Sorry again.)
Anyway, I know it's probably startling to have them jar you out of a perfectly good slumber in there but it's something you might want to come to terms with :)
They'll either be loving you silly or fighting like cats and dogs one foot from your eardrum.
That's the way it goes, sweet stuff....
I sort of started preliminary shopping for you the other day.
I saw a post somewhere on organic swaddling blankets and I thought....oh, what a lovely gift to buy you!
So much of what you'll have, forever and for always, will be hand-me-downs. (I'm going to spend this entire post apologizing, I can tell already.)
And you won't need a "going home outfit" since you'll be here already so what could be better than a brand-new blanket?!?
I didn't buy anything yet but it was super thrilling to just be poking around for the most perfect snuggler for you.
Things like that make this all very, very real to me.
Not that you're not real, you are, but it's sort of a delayed reality type thing.
I think of you in terms of the future.
But to start really bringing you "into" my life by way of small things here and there...it brings you closer to me.
You have more definite waking and sleeping patterns now and I absolutely feel you every day, all during the day. For the longest time, I had to be lying really still in order to secure a tap but now I can be doing just about anything and I'll know when you've woken up.
Sometimes I'll say that, sometimes I'll announce, "The baby's awake," just so everyone can feel a little more involved, so that can know that you're around, a part of it all.
But at other times, I'll keep it to myself.
You'll wake and I'll notice but will be having a conversation with someone and I'll be listening but at the same time, my thoughts are with you.
I often like to keep your goings-on private.
It's sweet sometimes: just you and me.
You're awake right now, actually; you just stirred as I was writing that! Your little thumps and bumps make me smile--it's so reassuring to me to feel you.
What else is new?
You're the size of a banana.
I, however, am not.
I can no longer get in and out of bed with ease, I have to roll out of it, feeling like a moron.
I need help to get from the floor to a standing position.
I had to finally swap bras. Bye-bye sexy VS, hello maternity boulder-holder.
I have decided to swap back after writing that. I'll just make it fit.
My hair is like a lion's mane, it won't stop growing, and my fingernails need clipped constantly.
I'm still tired but am definitely feeling better than I was heading into last week.
Shaving my legs in the shower is starting to annoy me.
I can no longer really see my bikini line. Which is SCARY since when I'm looking, I'm usually wielding a razor.
However, the thought of a waxing makes me break out into a cold sweat.
But then this thought makes me believe that I really can get through natural childbirth because it's GOT to be better than that. If given the choice between the two, I'd choose labor every time.
Buuuuut, I can probably finagle a mani-pedi PLUS a prenatal massage out of it, if I book a wretched hair removal appointment.
Thinking.
Enticed, but passing for now.
Have not hit desperation yet nor have I sliced anything.
Matter to be reconsidered in exactly one month.
All in all, I'm hanging in there!
We have an appointment this week with the midwifes-- four weeks have passed so quickly, I can't believe it's time again!
I used to really be annoyed at these montly check-ups because they were so pointless at the doctor's office.
Weight, urine, blood pressure, "questions?"
But these appointments are like gab sessions with friends.
And normally, Daddy doesn't come for any appointments except for the two that feature ultrasounds. (This has always been my choice; he would come if asked but I just never felt like it was worth his time. The appointments were THAT pointless.)
But he comes to all of these! We're in this together and he's going to be heavily involved all the way--plus there's so much information exchanged that it's important that he be there.
Am more solid on my bedroom as your birthing room but am less solid on family involvement.
I just had a long discussion with my friend Tammy, who birthed her fourth and final baby at home, and she sort of opened my mind a little to things regarding your siblings.
I had been prepared to shoo them, to keep them close at hand, but not wanting anyone around during your birth.
I'm afraid that I will scare them.
But her policy was that her kids were free to come and go as they pleased, no one was pressured to stay and no one was forced to leave. She bought them all disposable cameras and let them photograph their little sister's first moments and what she ended up with was three different perspectives caught on film.
Maybe I'll poll the kids and get their thoughts.
I'm very undecided.
I'll still need someone here to help with them--Creux's too little to be given free reign around the house and I don't want to stick that responsibility on Chas.
I do have thoughts about that, about who I want here to help, and it's not going to be a popular decision.
I am absolutely going to piss off some people.
But I'm not going through this to make others comfortable or happy.
I need to focus on what's best for my kids, me, and the situation at hand and make decisions accordingly.
I just know that I don't want a crew of people in my house during your birth.
It's truly a private, almost sacred experience for me, and I don't feel bad for not wanting a crowd of loving people right there when you're born.
I'm simply not comfortable with that.
And perhaps this sounds awful but...I don't want to share the experience.
It's private and it's mine.
After you're here and we're both settled, we'll open our doors to close family and friends, just as we would in the hospital.
But I'm being really careful here not to cross my own personal boundaries.
This discussion to be continued as I sort things out.
I didn't think this would be as big of a deal as it's shaping up to be but it requires careful consideration on my part.
You're up again.
You went quiet for a bit but now you're rousing.
I'm going to go lay on the couch and be with you for awhile.
Loving you already,
Mama
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
16 Weeks, 5 Days
I'm so stinkin' tired right now and I can't seem to shake it.
My guess is this growth spurt you're going through has you pulling harder on me.
I'm aware of this and am eating all the right things and trying to rest as much as possible but I'm losing this battle.
You are sucking the life right out of me!
AGAIN!
We slept in until NOON on Sunday and that is just unheard of!
Normally, "sleeping in" is a 10:00ish wake time.
But when my eyes fluttered open on Sunday, I knew it was way later than normal because I felt...really rested!
And hungry :)
But by mid-afternoon, I was craving a nap and I have sort of been that way ever since.
I don't function terribly well on exhaustion though I will say that I think this part is almost harder than when I'm juggling a newborn.
That's a weird comment when you think about it.
But I guess by the time you arrive, my real job begins and that's feeding you....sometimes hourly...so I adjust rather quickly to the routine and there seems to be a certain degree of functionality during that period of very little sleep.
Which is wonderful being it is a loooooong period.
Maybe it's easier then because I just simply know not to expect sleep.
I feel like this with my own personal "free time" during the day.
I have learned not to expect it and definitely not to rely on it because if it doesn't happen, I'm anguished beyond reason.
But once I accept the fact that I may not have more than just a few minutes alone in the bathroom on any given day....I'm delighted when free time comes my way.
(None of this is true during pregnancy, by the way. All bets are off right now because I can't reason away my rest period. You and I need this, it's not an extra little bonus. My diet and my restfulness have never been more important.)
I've been a little off this week so far and I honestly think it's due to the fact that I'm just really tired. We have a vacation looming which is much needed for everyone. I just can't wait to...relax and enjoy my family.
And sleep.
Looking forward to lots of good, long naps with you.
I've felt you every day since Friday which is the longest stretch I've had yet. The midwives told me to look for this, for the first week that I feel you every day and so far, this is looking good for it. It's thought that the delivery date will fall five months from that time.
This will put you in the last week of June, one week early.
Hmmm.
Look, I'm going to be honest here.
Your expected birth date bothers me and I suspect it stems from my being an "only."
Arriving July 8th or thereabouts puts you very close to Greer's birthday and I don't want you guys to have to share birthdays.
Is that silly?
Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but there are 365 days in a year, 12 birthday months to choose from, so I don't see why we have to double up.
Had I truly had my pick, your birthday would have fallen in May (my first choice) or June.
But for you to have arrived in May, the timing was bad as we were hoofing it around DC with your big brothers.
And that was not the time to be making a little you.
We missed the June birthday by a day, I know I told you this already.
I knew we were late in trying but I smugly assumed it would work anyway.
A day matters, in case you will some day wonder.
The timing has to be, quite literally, perfect.
And we almost held off on a try for a July you altogether but in the end, decided to let the DNA fall where it may :)
I thought an August you would be nice too...but it worried me that it might not work, I worried that we'd "waste" a month of trying--like in some strange way, you have to have a certain amount of "nopes" before you get a "bingo!"
So I wanted to get another "nope" over with if July came to that so I could nail my "bingo!" in August if I had fulfulled my unknown quota of not-going-to-happens.
Honestly, I think it would have happened in May had we tried.
And I think it would have happened in June, had we tried one day earlier.
But in the moment, one just never knows.
Fertility is a screwy thing and I'm living proof.
I couldn't get pregnant for two years once upon a time.
Two whole years of trying.
And now, I can't seem to stop :)
The point of all of that is that I would LOVE it if you arrived by my birthday!
At just 37 weeks, you're considered full-term but that last week in June puts you well within range at 39 weeks!
We can do 39 weeks...can't we?
(And I know I've mentioned this before but I've never actually made my due date and dear God, I've never even dreamed of passing it by. Do not do that to me. I beg you. Do not make me be more pregnant than I've ever been, right there in the middle of the super hot summer. I will not be a happy mama and this book that I'm writing for you will grow ugly at the end. I'm sorry but I'm not going to sugar-coat that for you.
I. Will. Not. Be. Pleasant.)
I'm not going to get my hopes up and I've truly made my peace with your potential July birthday.
(Really, it's not THAT big of a deal, for crying out loud. I'm just saying I'd like you all to have your own special time, that's all. If you end up sharing the same day, it'll end up being the best darn day in the whole year. So...no pressure. Okay, well, slight pressure. But you do what you need to in there.)
Interestingly, you just kicked me!
Are you telling me to move on topic-wise...or that you'd like a yummy smoothie because that's the vibe I'm sort of getting from you.
And I've not only felt kicks recently but I can feel you shifting and turning.
It's really quite a strange sensation, almost like a tingling of some sort deep inside and then it stops.
You know what I can't wait for?
Hiccups!
Baby hiccups are my way favorite and I will literally clear a room so that I can sit and focus on those rhythmic jerks, where I giggle with sheer delight at each one and then wait quietly for the next, giggling all over again.
Ah, good times ahead.
Soon you will be big enough for hiccuping and when you push against me, I'll be able to push you back, sometimes being able to feel your bony little appendages sticking out here and there. I remember with Creux, I could literally pinch his small elbows as they would pop out when he'd turn positions or try to force me to give him another precious inch of space.
I love my little aliens.
Love 'em to pieces.
Loving YOU already,
Mama
My guess is this growth spurt you're going through has you pulling harder on me.
I'm aware of this and am eating all the right things and trying to rest as much as possible but I'm losing this battle.
You are sucking the life right out of me!
AGAIN!
We slept in until NOON on Sunday and that is just unheard of!
Normally, "sleeping in" is a 10:00ish wake time.
But when my eyes fluttered open on Sunday, I knew it was way later than normal because I felt...really rested!
And hungry :)
But by mid-afternoon, I was craving a nap and I have sort of been that way ever since.
I don't function terribly well on exhaustion though I will say that I think this part is almost harder than when I'm juggling a newborn.
That's a weird comment when you think about it.
But I guess by the time you arrive, my real job begins and that's feeding you....sometimes hourly...so I adjust rather quickly to the routine and there seems to be a certain degree of functionality during that period of very little sleep.
Which is wonderful being it is a loooooong period.
Maybe it's easier then because I just simply know not to expect sleep.
I feel like this with my own personal "free time" during the day.
I have learned not to expect it and definitely not to rely on it because if it doesn't happen, I'm anguished beyond reason.
But once I accept the fact that I may not have more than just a few minutes alone in the bathroom on any given day....I'm delighted when free time comes my way.
(None of this is true during pregnancy, by the way. All bets are off right now because I can't reason away my rest period. You and I need this, it's not an extra little bonus. My diet and my restfulness have never been more important.)
I've been a little off this week so far and I honestly think it's due to the fact that I'm just really tired. We have a vacation looming which is much needed for everyone. I just can't wait to...relax and enjoy my family.
And sleep.
Looking forward to lots of good, long naps with you.
I've felt you every day since Friday which is the longest stretch I've had yet. The midwives told me to look for this, for the first week that I feel you every day and so far, this is looking good for it. It's thought that the delivery date will fall five months from that time.
This will put you in the last week of June, one week early.
Hmmm.
Look, I'm going to be honest here.
Your expected birth date bothers me and I suspect it stems from my being an "only."
Arriving July 8th or thereabouts puts you very close to Greer's birthday and I don't want you guys to have to share birthdays.
Is that silly?
Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but there are 365 days in a year, 12 birthday months to choose from, so I don't see why we have to double up.
Had I truly had my pick, your birthday would have fallen in May (my first choice) or June.
But for you to have arrived in May, the timing was bad as we were hoofing it around DC with your big brothers.
And that was not the time to be making a little you.
We missed the June birthday by a day, I know I told you this already.
I knew we were late in trying but I smugly assumed it would work anyway.
A day matters, in case you will some day wonder.
The timing has to be, quite literally, perfect.
And we almost held off on a try for a July you altogether but in the end, decided to let the DNA fall where it may :)
I thought an August you would be nice too...but it worried me that it might not work, I worried that we'd "waste" a month of trying--like in some strange way, you have to have a certain amount of "nopes" before you get a "bingo!"
So I wanted to get another "nope" over with if July came to that so I could nail my "bingo!" in August if I had fulfulled my unknown quota of not-going-to-happens.
Honestly, I think it would have happened in May had we tried.
And I think it would have happened in June, had we tried one day earlier.
But in the moment, one just never knows.
Fertility is a screwy thing and I'm living proof.
I couldn't get pregnant for two years once upon a time.
Two whole years of trying.
And now, I can't seem to stop :)
The point of all of that is that I would LOVE it if you arrived by my birthday!
At just 37 weeks, you're considered full-term but that last week in June puts you well within range at 39 weeks!
We can do 39 weeks...can't we?
(And I know I've mentioned this before but I've never actually made my due date and dear God, I've never even dreamed of passing it by. Do not do that to me. I beg you. Do not make me be more pregnant than I've ever been, right there in the middle of the super hot summer. I will not be a happy mama and this book that I'm writing for you will grow ugly at the end. I'm sorry but I'm not going to sugar-coat that for you.
I. Will. Not. Be. Pleasant.)
I'm not going to get my hopes up and I've truly made my peace with your potential July birthday.
(Really, it's not THAT big of a deal, for crying out loud. I'm just saying I'd like you all to have your own special time, that's all. If you end up sharing the same day, it'll end up being the best darn day in the whole year. So...no pressure. Okay, well, slight pressure. But you do what you need to in there.)
Interestingly, you just kicked me!
Are you telling me to move on topic-wise...or that you'd like a yummy smoothie because that's the vibe I'm sort of getting from you.
And I've not only felt kicks recently but I can feel you shifting and turning.
It's really quite a strange sensation, almost like a tingling of some sort deep inside and then it stops.
You know what I can't wait for?
Hiccups!
Baby hiccups are my way favorite and I will literally clear a room so that I can sit and focus on those rhythmic jerks, where I giggle with sheer delight at each one and then wait quietly for the next, giggling all over again.
Ah, good times ahead.
Soon you will be big enough for hiccuping and when you push against me, I'll be able to push you back, sometimes being able to feel your bony little appendages sticking out here and there. I remember with Creux, I could literally pinch his small elbows as they would pop out when he'd turn positions or try to force me to give him another precious inch of space.
I love my little aliens.
Love 'em to pieces.
Loving YOU already,
Mama
Saturday, January 23, 2010
16 Weeks, 2 Days
I've been quiet because you've been quiet.
You were freaking me out a little.
I had been feeling you for the last few weeks, most definitely sporadically but still pretty regularly.
And then you went still on me.
Honestly, I kept thinking I was maybe feeling you but I'd only get one small, soft tap...and then you were gone. I could never verify with that second, more reaffirming touch.
It was driving me crazy.
I know I mentioned before that those early, early weeks are so hard and paranoia-inspiring because other than waiting for some really horrible sign, there's no way to truly confirm if you're okay or not, if you're still growing or not.
But this stage is hard too, for the example I've just laid out.
I feel you, I feel you, I feel you...I don't feel you.
My paranoia swooped in again, after two stunning belly blows from Creux paired with your silence.
He doesn't understand that he needs to be careful with me, more careful than ever before.
He doesn't know that jumping on my belly while I'm snoozing in bed will cause me not only to wail in pain (that REALLY does not feel great at all--my belly is super tender) but will cause me to spend the next three days contemplating what might have happened to you.
(Logically, I know you're well protected in there. However, this is not a time of high logic for me. I anguish over these things right now.)
It wasn't until last night that I really and truly felt you enough to breathe a sigh of relief.
You're still there and you're fine.
You were just...chillin' :)
Once we left our first trimester, the odds of you making it to "viability" increased significantly in our favor but bad things happen.
Just the other day I learned of someone whose baby was at the same gestation as you, and she lost her amniotic fluid somehow. The hearbeat was heard for a few days after the fact but then it stopped.
I myself have a very close friend who suffered a devastating loss in the middle of her pregnancy so...I know it happens.
I just don't ever want it to happen that close to me again.
I don't believe in a God who takes babies like that because He needs them more than we do.
And I don't believe in the pat phrases that come with those losses...
"It was meant to be."
"Everything happens for a reason."
"It's probably for the best."
What I believe in is bad luck.
And that's all I happen to believe goes wrong sometimes.
So, I'm not immune to that.
I just want the odds to stay stacked in my favor here.
And even though this will get better for me, I won't truly breathe a sigh of relief until you're in my arms, safe and sound.
Actually, I may never breathe a sigh of relief.
You babies grow into rambunctious toddlers, mischevious preschoolers, devilish grade schoolers, scheming high schoolers.
Hmm.
So yeah, pretty much I'll worry forever.
Boy, that's fun to realize ;)
This should be the last of the "wait, what happened???" paranoia for awhile though!
From weeks 16-20, you will more than double both your weight (you're at 3.5ounces or thereabouts now) and your length (about 4.5 inches) so by the end of this period, when you move, I'll know it.
You're about the size of my open hand.
Isn't that the cutest thing ever?
I could hold you in my hand.
(Uh, though I do not wish to do so. You stay put.)
Last night you were up a lot, especially considering how quiet you've been.
But you were awake and bouncing around while I was trying to get to sleep.
It reminded me of being really, really pregnant with Creux, who was as active in-utero as he is now.
He would try and literally beat his way out.
It was so bad for me that when I would wake in the middle of the night and have to pee really, really, REALLY bad, I'd tiptoe to the bathroom and make very little noise for fear of waking him. I remember Charlie asking me something once and I hissed, "SHHH! You're going to wake the baby up!"
I suppose it seemed strange at the time, most definitely to him, but once Creux woke, he'd mess around in there for AGES and I would lie in the dark, willing him to go back to sleep and to stop pounding on me.
It never worked, by the way.
I never managed to not wake him, no matter how carefully I got out of bed and how quiet I was.
(I swore I wouldn't ask for anything from you except that you would grow strong and healthy but...can I ask just one thing? Can you be a chill baby for me? I'm due; I'm really, really due. If you could come out and be strong and healthy and super relaxed and happy....I swear I'll never ask for another thing. Well, maybe there will be just one or two things over the years but I'm your mother and I'm allowed to change the rules here and there. But please? Will you be my chill baby? PLEASE???)
Anyway, we're not quite at that point with each other as you're knockings don't necessarily keep me awake right now.
You're just midgie, still.
And you've not managed to find my kidneys yet which is a MAJOR bonus.
There's been a new development in the naming department and it's that we're likely going back to the drawing board.
Your Maybe Girl name has emerged on a tv show, if you can freaking believe that crap.
GAH.
I'm SO annoyed because when that happens, it just brings popularity to the name and this is one that I have loved since like FOREVER and have rather had my heart set on it (Creux would have been this) so I'm not sure what we'll do. We're both in agreement on this type of stuff and when Daddy heard it, he said, "Well, that might be it for that name." And I groaned because truly I don't want some uber popular baby name for my babies. I don't want a popular name AT ALL.
So, I'm digging.
Boy and Girl names are now less certain and I hate that.
Since we usually go "out" just a little with our names, I like to spend some time getting to know it myself and making really, really sure it fits well. I'm always looking for baby names, even when I'm years from having another. I'll scribble something I hear or see on my hand if I have to in order to get it home and in a safe place for future consideration. I've learned to do this the hard way because the names I like are so uncommon typically that I will forget them and no one will ever be able to jog my memory. I can't bear to think of all the potentials I've lost over the years.
Sigh.
So you're officially nameless.
And I STILL think you are a girl.
Speaking of girls, Greer and I spent the morning dancing like fools in the schooling room. We love to do this, we turn on the music and crank it really loud and dance, dance, dance together all over the place.
I had to wonder...what must you think of all that activity going on with me bouncing and swinging and swaying and singing? It's funny to imagine you in there, arms braced to the sides of your little water bag, like "WHAT in the world is she doing????"
Or better, you just rocking along in there, doing your own little tumbles and moves right along with us.
You're so cute I can't stand it.
Loving you already,
Mama
You were freaking me out a little.
I had been feeling you for the last few weeks, most definitely sporadically but still pretty regularly.
And then you went still on me.
Honestly, I kept thinking I was maybe feeling you but I'd only get one small, soft tap...and then you were gone. I could never verify with that second, more reaffirming touch.
It was driving me crazy.
I know I mentioned before that those early, early weeks are so hard and paranoia-inspiring because other than waiting for some really horrible sign, there's no way to truly confirm if you're okay or not, if you're still growing or not.
But this stage is hard too, for the example I've just laid out.
I feel you, I feel you, I feel you...I don't feel you.
My paranoia swooped in again, after two stunning belly blows from Creux paired with your silence.
He doesn't understand that he needs to be careful with me, more careful than ever before.
He doesn't know that jumping on my belly while I'm snoozing in bed will cause me not only to wail in pain (that REALLY does not feel great at all--my belly is super tender) but will cause me to spend the next three days contemplating what might have happened to you.
(Logically, I know you're well protected in there. However, this is not a time of high logic for me. I anguish over these things right now.)
It wasn't until last night that I really and truly felt you enough to breathe a sigh of relief.
You're still there and you're fine.
You were just...chillin' :)
Once we left our first trimester, the odds of you making it to "viability" increased significantly in our favor but bad things happen.
Just the other day I learned of someone whose baby was at the same gestation as you, and she lost her amniotic fluid somehow. The hearbeat was heard for a few days after the fact but then it stopped.
I myself have a very close friend who suffered a devastating loss in the middle of her pregnancy so...I know it happens.
I just don't ever want it to happen that close to me again.
I don't believe in a God who takes babies like that because He needs them more than we do.
And I don't believe in the pat phrases that come with those losses...
"It was meant to be."
"Everything happens for a reason."
"It's probably for the best."
What I believe in is bad luck.
And that's all I happen to believe goes wrong sometimes.
So, I'm not immune to that.
I just want the odds to stay stacked in my favor here.
And even though this will get better for me, I won't truly breathe a sigh of relief until you're in my arms, safe and sound.
Actually, I may never breathe a sigh of relief.
You babies grow into rambunctious toddlers, mischevious preschoolers, devilish grade schoolers, scheming high schoolers.
Hmm.
So yeah, pretty much I'll worry forever.
Boy, that's fun to realize ;)
This should be the last of the "wait, what happened???" paranoia for awhile though!
From weeks 16-20, you will more than double both your weight (you're at 3.5ounces or thereabouts now) and your length (about 4.5 inches) so by the end of this period, when you move, I'll know it.
You're about the size of my open hand.
Isn't that the cutest thing ever?
I could hold you in my hand.
(Uh, though I do not wish to do so. You stay put.)
Last night you were up a lot, especially considering how quiet you've been.
But you were awake and bouncing around while I was trying to get to sleep.
It reminded me of being really, really pregnant with Creux, who was as active in-utero as he is now.
He would try and literally beat his way out.
It was so bad for me that when I would wake in the middle of the night and have to pee really, really, REALLY bad, I'd tiptoe to the bathroom and make very little noise for fear of waking him. I remember Charlie asking me something once and I hissed, "SHHH! You're going to wake the baby up!"
I suppose it seemed strange at the time, most definitely to him, but once Creux woke, he'd mess around in there for AGES and I would lie in the dark, willing him to go back to sleep and to stop pounding on me.
It never worked, by the way.
I never managed to not wake him, no matter how carefully I got out of bed and how quiet I was.
(I swore I wouldn't ask for anything from you except that you would grow strong and healthy but...can I ask just one thing? Can you be a chill baby for me? I'm due; I'm really, really due. If you could come out and be strong and healthy and super relaxed and happy....I swear I'll never ask for another thing. Well, maybe there will be just one or two things over the years but I'm your mother and I'm allowed to change the rules here and there. But please? Will you be my chill baby? PLEASE???)
Anyway, we're not quite at that point with each other as you're knockings don't necessarily keep me awake right now.
You're just midgie, still.
And you've not managed to find my kidneys yet which is a MAJOR bonus.
There's been a new development in the naming department and it's that we're likely going back to the drawing board.
Your Maybe Girl name has emerged on a tv show, if you can freaking believe that crap.
GAH.
I'm SO annoyed because when that happens, it just brings popularity to the name and this is one that I have loved since like FOREVER and have rather had my heart set on it (Creux would have been this) so I'm not sure what we'll do. We're both in agreement on this type of stuff and when Daddy heard it, he said, "Well, that might be it for that name." And I groaned because truly I don't want some uber popular baby name for my babies. I don't want a popular name AT ALL.
So, I'm digging.
Boy and Girl names are now less certain and I hate that.
Since we usually go "out" just a little with our names, I like to spend some time getting to know it myself and making really, really sure it fits well. I'm always looking for baby names, even when I'm years from having another. I'll scribble something I hear or see on my hand if I have to in order to get it home and in a safe place for future consideration. I've learned to do this the hard way because the names I like are so uncommon typically that I will forget them and no one will ever be able to jog my memory. I can't bear to think of all the potentials I've lost over the years.
Sigh.
So you're officially nameless.
And I STILL think you are a girl.
Speaking of girls, Greer and I spent the morning dancing like fools in the schooling room. We love to do this, we turn on the music and crank it really loud and dance, dance, dance together all over the place.
I had to wonder...what must you think of all that activity going on with me bouncing and swinging and swaying and singing? It's funny to imagine you in there, arms braced to the sides of your little water bag, like "WHAT in the world is she doing????"
Or better, you just rocking along in there, doing your own little tumbles and moves right along with us.
You're so cute I can't stand it.
Loving you already,
Mama
Sunday, January 17, 2010
15 Weeks, 3 Days
Boy, the weeks are just ticking away for me.
Once I got over that sickness hurdle, where every day felt, truly, like three, now they're just flying by.
By the end of this week, we'll be four months along already and starting the last month of the first part of our pregnancy.
At 20 weeks, I'll be at the half way point and that's just a month away!
I simply can't believe how quickly time is passing and my guess is, as our family comes out of winter hibernation (it's slowing begun), it will only pick up.
You're growing as fast as the days as passing. It seems every time I wake up, my belly protrudes just a wee bit more. My regular shirts are still fitting which is nice because I'm not super keen on maternity ones. The pants are, and have been, a must but I can also get by with just yoga pants or lounge-y type stuff that I love to spend the winters in. It probably won't be until spring that I really have to modify my wardrobe and even then, I'm particular. By the time summer arrives, I'll be down to just about nothing, tank tops and my favorite pair of black gauchos, stretched out already from Creux's pregnancy. My guess is I'll wear as little clothing as possible because I'll feel like I'm sitting on the equator. (Already my core body temperature has ramped up; you're like a little heater inside me. I'm burning up at night, even with the fan going and unless it's positively frigid outside, it's not uncommon to see me without a coat on.)
So yep, you're getting bigger and I'm sleeping worse already. I mentioned the temperature issue (I sit here now, in the dead of winter in a spaghetti-strapped tank, wondering if I should pull my hair in a pony to help cool myself off. Yikes.) but I'm not sleeping well in general.
I can't sleep on my stomach, for obvious reasons, and I can't sleep on my back because it feels just gross (I can't really explain it well but there's an uncomfortable pressure that you add when I'm lying flat--it's rather disturbing). I normally sleep on my right side because it allows me to face...nothing, and I like that.
Daddy and I are not snugglers.
We are sleepers who mean serious business.
We say good night and flip onto our sides and stay that way until I'm attempting to beat him senseless at 4am for snoring.
More on that in a minute.
Anyway, lately when I've been lying on my right side, there's something...strange...going on under my ribs. It's a sensation I definitely associate with pregnancy but only with LATE pregnancy when little feet are jammed up there or worse, my liver or stomach.
It's sort of hard to breath and uncomfortable enough that even when actively sleeping, I'll notice it and try to shift the pressure off.
I don't have a clue what I'm feeling as you certainly aren't big enough to be making me feel so stuffy and THAT really worries me because you've only begun to grow really.
I remember feeling this with Creux in the last two months of pregnancy and having to sleep sitting up in bed.
It was not fun.
And I was CRANKY.
The other issue that I have is Daddy snoring, which honestly, isn't terrible most times, when I'm not pregnant.
Meaning, I can deal, sleep through it, gently knock him upside the head a time or two and then fall back asleep easily.
But with my own discomfort settling in, I can barely tolerate the sound coming from the other side of the bed.
I wake often just from being uncomfortable but then adding in his sleeping patterns, when he cycles deep enough to start his snoring, my eyes snap open and I reach out and shake him.
The first time, I shake him gently.
The second time, I shake him harder.
The third time, I kick him down by his legs.
The fourth time, I yell at him.
The fifth time, I start fantasizing about smothering him with my pillow.
(That's a joke. For the most part :))
I wake in the mornings and I am GROUCHY.
Pretty much I'm up all night every night either re-situating with you or assaulting your father.
It's really not pleasant.
But luckily, he lets me sleep a bit alone every morning.
Once the Littles wake, he typically gets breakfast going and I sleep the best sleep during the hour or two that I steal then.
This will only get worse as the months pass but will be immediately better upon your birth.
Truly, like the night of your birth, I'll be able to breath again and my discomfort will be different (but welcome until my milk comes in and I have two ginourmous leaky rocks on my chest) but at least I'll be able to sleep.
Like a baby...mama :)
I still feel wonderful though I tire easily and am generally short-tempered.
This mama is not one to be messed with during her gestational period, let me tell you.
My hormones are just wacky and I fear I have far too much testosterone or something because I am just combative and mouthy and impatient.
Not with my kids (the impatience perhaps) but with people who get under my skin for one reason or another.
And while I definitely need to check it, at other times it really allows me to say what I need to say and to not care so much how it's received.
Like, "No, I don't want to do that." Or, "I'd love to but I just can't."
These are two sentences that I'm getting really comfy with and it's good for me.
I'm very snappish though right now and am easily angered and I don't like that so much. My temper flares and I struggle more controlling that now than I normally do.
(Just ask the girl who almost didn't accept my tags-on exchange at the Maternity Destination the other day, when I wanted the same stupid sweater I was gifted but in a different COLOR.
That was not her best week ever, guaranteed.)
I'm feeling you but am hoping that this week or next, I'll be feeling you more.
I'm supposed to be paying close attention to the time frame where I can feel you every day as the saying goes that it will be exactly five months from that period to your birth. This should happen in the next two to three weeks or so with your due date being July 8th. Secretly, I'm hoping you grow quickly and come a bit early. The 4th would be fun...but my birthday is June 29th and it's possible you could sneak in there. I doubt you will, you shouldn't, it's better for you to stay put for as long as possible but selfishly, I think that would be the best gift ever.
The 30th works too, in case you're wondering.
I'm wide open, calendar cleared.
Speaking of calendars, we're deep into vacation planning over here, trying to fill the time with fun until you arrive!
I haven't felt like going anywhere in ages, not since we came home from Deep Creek and learned that you were coming.
But now, I've got wander-lust bad and am wanting to do take a few trips before you arrive since you'll bench this family the whole darn summer.
May is the latest I can travel and we'll likely not budge until mid-fall when we'll drag you on your first of many family adventures.
One last thing--
I've given it some thought and I'm thinking maybe we'll be changing the site of your home birth.
I'm planning this wonderful bedroom for us and so it only sort of makes sense to maybe stick up there for your arrival?
Initially, I had just assumed we'd take over the downstairs area because there's so much more room but with the changes we're making in the bedroom, I think it might be better for us up there.
The only thing I'm worried about is the space of which there isn't much.
At all.
And there will be at least four major players in my bedroom for the duration and that does not include any of your siblings, who I'm hoping will be there immediately upon your arrival to share in your first moments.
But like the downstairs, I have a deck off my bedroom that can be utilized and utilized well, fitting the water birth tub easily.
If we attach a canopy over the top of the deck, it will provide privacy PLUS I'll have access to my coziest of spaces, including my bathroom, which is sort of like a cocoon to me.
In the end, I can only guess how this will go because I know in the moment I'll go wherever and do whatever provides the most comfort to me and who knows what that will be.
I like the idea of being in my bedroom and I love the idea of having my little bathroom right there because I think I might really appreciate the small bits of solitude it could offer me.
It would be nice to steal away and labor on my own for a bit, especially as we hit the active part of it, where I'm not ready to push but am consumed by the pain. I could absolutely see me relishing that small, cozy space then.
And I must say, the privacy is a major draw.
Some people like a lot of support when they're in pain and others like to be left alone for a bit.
I think I'm a left aloner.
At least until I'm ready to be helped.
In the past, I've tended to do better and to stay focused and on top of the pain when I've been on my own.
When I've woken in labor (or false labor--which has happened in the last two pregnancies) I normally don't wake Daddy until I'm ready to go, until I've hit the point where I've known it's been just about time to leave for the hospital.
I'm good on my own, when I'm relying on just me, when I can sort of zone out a bit and really tune in to my body for awhile.
It's when others start to comfort me that I start feeling sorry for myself and I break down.
We'll have a home visit with the midwives just before you're set to come and they'll offer ideas that I'm sure I haven't thought of. But it helps me to plan ahead, to really figure out what I want for your birth, so that I can make sure everyone else is firmly on-board. I think the more comfortable I feel going into this whole thing, the better it's going to be for me when it happens.
I think about these things all the time because I feel like I'm going to blink and it'll be my birthday, right smack in the most gorgeous part of summer and you will be looming large.
I am absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt going to be ready.
Loving you already,
Mama
Once I got over that sickness hurdle, where every day felt, truly, like three, now they're just flying by.
By the end of this week, we'll be four months along already and starting the last month of the first part of our pregnancy.
At 20 weeks, I'll be at the half way point and that's just a month away!
I simply can't believe how quickly time is passing and my guess is, as our family comes out of winter hibernation (it's slowing begun), it will only pick up.
You're growing as fast as the days as passing. It seems every time I wake up, my belly protrudes just a wee bit more. My regular shirts are still fitting which is nice because I'm not super keen on maternity ones. The pants are, and have been, a must but I can also get by with just yoga pants or lounge-y type stuff that I love to spend the winters in. It probably won't be until spring that I really have to modify my wardrobe and even then, I'm particular. By the time summer arrives, I'll be down to just about nothing, tank tops and my favorite pair of black gauchos, stretched out already from Creux's pregnancy. My guess is I'll wear as little clothing as possible because I'll feel like I'm sitting on the equator. (Already my core body temperature has ramped up; you're like a little heater inside me. I'm burning up at night, even with the fan going and unless it's positively frigid outside, it's not uncommon to see me without a coat on.)
So yep, you're getting bigger and I'm sleeping worse already. I mentioned the temperature issue (I sit here now, in the dead of winter in a spaghetti-strapped tank, wondering if I should pull my hair in a pony to help cool myself off. Yikes.) but I'm not sleeping well in general.
I can't sleep on my stomach, for obvious reasons, and I can't sleep on my back because it feels just gross (I can't really explain it well but there's an uncomfortable pressure that you add when I'm lying flat--it's rather disturbing). I normally sleep on my right side because it allows me to face...nothing, and I like that.
Daddy and I are not snugglers.
We are sleepers who mean serious business.
We say good night and flip onto our sides and stay that way until I'm attempting to beat him senseless at 4am for snoring.
More on that in a minute.
Anyway, lately when I've been lying on my right side, there's something...strange...going on under my ribs. It's a sensation I definitely associate with pregnancy but only with LATE pregnancy when little feet are jammed up there or worse, my liver or stomach.
It's sort of hard to breath and uncomfortable enough that even when actively sleeping, I'll notice it and try to shift the pressure off.
I don't have a clue what I'm feeling as you certainly aren't big enough to be making me feel so stuffy and THAT really worries me because you've only begun to grow really.
I remember feeling this with Creux in the last two months of pregnancy and having to sleep sitting up in bed.
It was not fun.
And I was CRANKY.
The other issue that I have is Daddy snoring, which honestly, isn't terrible most times, when I'm not pregnant.
Meaning, I can deal, sleep through it, gently knock him upside the head a time or two and then fall back asleep easily.
But with my own discomfort settling in, I can barely tolerate the sound coming from the other side of the bed.
I wake often just from being uncomfortable but then adding in his sleeping patterns, when he cycles deep enough to start his snoring, my eyes snap open and I reach out and shake him.
The first time, I shake him gently.
The second time, I shake him harder.
The third time, I kick him down by his legs.
The fourth time, I yell at him.
The fifth time, I start fantasizing about smothering him with my pillow.
(That's a joke. For the most part :))
I wake in the mornings and I am GROUCHY.
Pretty much I'm up all night every night either re-situating with you or assaulting your father.
It's really not pleasant.
But luckily, he lets me sleep a bit alone every morning.
Once the Littles wake, he typically gets breakfast going and I sleep the best sleep during the hour or two that I steal then.
This will only get worse as the months pass but will be immediately better upon your birth.
Truly, like the night of your birth, I'll be able to breath again and my discomfort will be different (but welcome until my milk comes in and I have two ginourmous leaky rocks on my chest) but at least I'll be able to sleep.
Like a baby...mama :)
I still feel wonderful though I tire easily and am generally short-tempered.
This mama is not one to be messed with during her gestational period, let me tell you.
My hormones are just wacky and I fear I have far too much testosterone or something because I am just combative and mouthy and impatient.
Not with my kids (the impatience perhaps) but with people who get under my skin for one reason or another.
And while I definitely need to check it, at other times it really allows me to say what I need to say and to not care so much how it's received.
Like, "No, I don't want to do that." Or, "I'd love to but I just can't."
These are two sentences that I'm getting really comfy with and it's good for me.
I'm very snappish though right now and am easily angered and I don't like that so much. My temper flares and I struggle more controlling that now than I normally do.
(Just ask the girl who almost didn't accept my tags-on exchange at the Maternity Destination the other day, when I wanted the same stupid sweater I was gifted but in a different COLOR.
That was not her best week ever, guaranteed.)
I'm feeling you but am hoping that this week or next, I'll be feeling you more.
I'm supposed to be paying close attention to the time frame where I can feel you every day as the saying goes that it will be exactly five months from that period to your birth. This should happen in the next two to three weeks or so with your due date being July 8th. Secretly, I'm hoping you grow quickly and come a bit early. The 4th would be fun...but my birthday is June 29th and it's possible you could sneak in there. I doubt you will, you shouldn't, it's better for you to stay put for as long as possible but selfishly, I think that would be the best gift ever.
The 30th works too, in case you're wondering.
I'm wide open, calendar cleared.
Speaking of calendars, we're deep into vacation planning over here, trying to fill the time with fun until you arrive!
I haven't felt like going anywhere in ages, not since we came home from Deep Creek and learned that you were coming.
But now, I've got wander-lust bad and am wanting to do take a few trips before you arrive since you'll bench this family the whole darn summer.
May is the latest I can travel and we'll likely not budge until mid-fall when we'll drag you on your first of many family adventures.
One last thing--
I've given it some thought and I'm thinking maybe we'll be changing the site of your home birth.
I'm planning this wonderful bedroom for us and so it only sort of makes sense to maybe stick up there for your arrival?
Initially, I had just assumed we'd take over the downstairs area because there's so much more room but with the changes we're making in the bedroom, I think it might be better for us up there.
The only thing I'm worried about is the space of which there isn't much.
At all.
And there will be at least four major players in my bedroom for the duration and that does not include any of your siblings, who I'm hoping will be there immediately upon your arrival to share in your first moments.
But like the downstairs, I have a deck off my bedroom that can be utilized and utilized well, fitting the water birth tub easily.
If we attach a canopy over the top of the deck, it will provide privacy PLUS I'll have access to my coziest of spaces, including my bathroom, which is sort of like a cocoon to me.
In the end, I can only guess how this will go because I know in the moment I'll go wherever and do whatever provides the most comfort to me and who knows what that will be.
I like the idea of being in my bedroom and I love the idea of having my little bathroom right there because I think I might really appreciate the small bits of solitude it could offer me.
It would be nice to steal away and labor on my own for a bit, especially as we hit the active part of it, where I'm not ready to push but am consumed by the pain. I could absolutely see me relishing that small, cozy space then.
And I must say, the privacy is a major draw.
Some people like a lot of support when they're in pain and others like to be left alone for a bit.
I think I'm a left aloner.
At least until I'm ready to be helped.
In the past, I've tended to do better and to stay focused and on top of the pain when I've been on my own.
When I've woken in labor (or false labor--which has happened in the last two pregnancies) I normally don't wake Daddy until I'm ready to go, until I've hit the point where I've known it's been just about time to leave for the hospital.
I'm good on my own, when I'm relying on just me, when I can sort of zone out a bit and really tune in to my body for awhile.
It's when others start to comfort me that I start feeling sorry for myself and I break down.
We'll have a home visit with the midwives just before you're set to come and they'll offer ideas that I'm sure I haven't thought of. But it helps me to plan ahead, to really figure out what I want for your birth, so that I can make sure everyone else is firmly on-board. I think the more comfortable I feel going into this whole thing, the better it's going to be for me when it happens.
I think about these things all the time because I feel like I'm going to blink and it'll be my birthday, right smack in the most gorgeous part of summer and you will be looming large.
I am absolutely, positively, without-a-doubt going to be ready.
Loving you already,
Mama
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
14 Weeks, 5 Days
Today was literally a perfect day.
Everything just seemed to flow and it really highlighted what a "good day" consists of for me.
Round One:
School for Chas first thing.
School for Rhyse after that.
Littles loud but manageable.
A finished blog post.
A load of dishes, a load of laundry, a massive first floor clean-up.
Lunch.
A swift nap-time deposit for Creux.
A dance excursion for Greer.
45 minutes of rest for me.
Round Two:
I'm up, he's up.
Four batches of brownies, two helpers.
Another round of dishes and clothes.
A phone call, a birthday booking, a field trip planned, emails read and sent.
School for Rhyse.
School for Chas.
Dinner.
Playdoh making.
Some stories, some kisses, lots of "See you in the mornings!"
Tucking in.
Round Three:
A shower.
An online vacation hunt.
Clothes laid out.
Checks readied for classes.
Preschool snack prepped and ready.
Playdoh hardened.
Floor swept.
Dishes. Again.
Goodnights. Again.
Couch potato.
So you see, today was an easy day.
It was a home day, which meant I wasn't going out of my mind running here and running there.
Tomorrow is a horrible day, nothing like this one, but one I will spend in the car all day long.
Preschool drop-off, art drop-off, home, art pick-up, gym drop-off, preschool pick-up, home, gym pick-up, nap, tutoring drop-off, tutoring pick-up, MAYBE a darn pre-natal yoga class for us IF I have the stamina.
(I won't.)
The point of writing all of this is that in the first example, the day was perfect, fluid, busy, productive.
It was almost a dream day for me.
And in the whole bit of it, as I whipped myself from one thing to another, most of it, honestly, just home and kid management, I couldn't figure out where you were going to fit in.
I never once found a moment where I thought, "And here's where I squeeze in a 45 minute nursing, a diaper blow-out, an hour long snuggle with you snoozing on my chest, three minutes to marvel at tiny toes, an over-whelming consumation of love that renders me immobilized for half an hour."
I didn't find time for ANY of that.
I barely had time to drink a glass of water.
And that was BEST case scenario.
The tomorrow scenario?
That one will break me, WITHOUT you in the picture.
So, how do I do this? How do I shift these days, this family around again?
Where do I cut? Who loses in order for me to carve out your time?
Because it will happen.
You will move straight to the top of the food chain.
I always thought it would be the other way around.
Back when I had Chas and was pregnant with Rhyse, I just figured, "Well, the baby will have be accommodating..." but it doesn't work like that.
One squawk from you and plans are instantly aborted, consessions are made, classes are missed, the Martins are late.
For EVERYTHING.
And that's just the way of it.
I don't mind missing stuff.
But I hate disappointing any of my kids.
Looking at my crazy Wednesday, there isn't a cut that can be made.
Art is important to Rhyse. Preschool is the highlight of Greer's week. Gym is Chas' favorite thing ever. Tutoring is a must.
I never do anything for myself like this but thought a prenatal yoga class would be fun with you.
But I won't make it there.
I've seen their weekly schedule and I can't make it to any of the classes.
Why not?
Because right now I'm just not willing to put myself at the top of the food chain.
I have four kids to take care of, one to grow, and a household to run.
I'm not complaining, just pointing out the facts.
I'd rather cut the thing for me than I would for one of them. Somewhere, something's got to give so I just wonder...in the course of a "perfect" day, how can it be that I look around and think..."There's simply no time left here."
But strangely enough, I know it will work.
You're coming at the best time of year for me, a time with no school or sports, (both HUGE time sucks) so by the time I'm ready to rally, the adjustment to you will already have been made.
And as far as there being enough time in a day, there already ISN'T.
So I'm just going to have to quiet my Type A, and roll better with the punches.
I want you to know this:
You were not a part of the initial plan.
I have wanted four children since I was little.
I made sure that whoever I married wanted a big family, too.
Four was our number.
But at some point, right after Greer arrived, my heart changed.
I knew, holding her, that four was no longer my number.
I am grateful that four was no longer Daddy's number either.
You are the addition that is built on a much-loved house.
A house that is SO loved, it can't be left, but more space is needed.
Plans are drafted, modifications are made, a green light is given.
A mess is made.
But the work is worth it.
And suddenly it's not remembered how it ever was before.
You are our addition, the renovation to our much-loved family.
Not in the initial blueprint.
But forever in the final plans.
I'll find room for you.
I will carve and steal and hoard.
I will move mountains and I will skip yoga.
And some day if I renovate again, I'll still make sure that I do all of these things.
For you.
Everything just seemed to flow and it really highlighted what a "good day" consists of for me.
Round One:
School for Chas first thing.
School for Rhyse after that.
Littles loud but manageable.
A finished blog post.
A load of dishes, a load of laundry, a massive first floor clean-up.
Lunch.
A swift nap-time deposit for Creux.
A dance excursion for Greer.
45 minutes of rest for me.
Round Two:
I'm up, he's up.
Four batches of brownies, two helpers.
Another round of dishes and clothes.
A phone call, a birthday booking, a field trip planned, emails read and sent.
School for Rhyse.
School for Chas.
Dinner.
Playdoh making.
Some stories, some kisses, lots of "See you in the mornings!"
Tucking in.
Round Three:
A shower.
An online vacation hunt.
Clothes laid out.
Checks readied for classes.
Preschool snack prepped and ready.
Playdoh hardened.
Floor swept.
Dishes. Again.
Goodnights. Again.
Couch potato.
So you see, today was an easy day.
It was a home day, which meant I wasn't going out of my mind running here and running there.
Tomorrow is a horrible day, nothing like this one, but one I will spend in the car all day long.
Preschool drop-off, art drop-off, home, art pick-up, gym drop-off, preschool pick-up, home, gym pick-up, nap, tutoring drop-off, tutoring pick-up, MAYBE a darn pre-natal yoga class for us IF I have the stamina.
(I won't.)
The point of writing all of this is that in the first example, the day was perfect, fluid, busy, productive.
It was almost a dream day for me.
And in the whole bit of it, as I whipped myself from one thing to another, most of it, honestly, just home and kid management, I couldn't figure out where you were going to fit in.
I never once found a moment where I thought, "And here's where I squeeze in a 45 minute nursing, a diaper blow-out, an hour long snuggle with you snoozing on my chest, three minutes to marvel at tiny toes, an over-whelming consumation of love that renders me immobilized for half an hour."
I didn't find time for ANY of that.
I barely had time to drink a glass of water.
And that was BEST case scenario.
The tomorrow scenario?
That one will break me, WITHOUT you in the picture.
So, how do I do this? How do I shift these days, this family around again?
Where do I cut? Who loses in order for me to carve out your time?
Because it will happen.
You will move straight to the top of the food chain.
I always thought it would be the other way around.
Back when I had Chas and was pregnant with Rhyse, I just figured, "Well, the baby will have be accommodating..." but it doesn't work like that.
One squawk from you and plans are instantly aborted, consessions are made, classes are missed, the Martins are late.
For EVERYTHING.
And that's just the way of it.
I don't mind missing stuff.
But I hate disappointing any of my kids.
Looking at my crazy Wednesday, there isn't a cut that can be made.
Art is important to Rhyse. Preschool is the highlight of Greer's week. Gym is Chas' favorite thing ever. Tutoring is a must.
I never do anything for myself like this but thought a prenatal yoga class would be fun with you.
But I won't make it there.
I've seen their weekly schedule and I can't make it to any of the classes.
Why not?
Because right now I'm just not willing to put myself at the top of the food chain.
I have four kids to take care of, one to grow, and a household to run.
I'm not complaining, just pointing out the facts.
I'd rather cut the thing for me than I would for one of them. Somewhere, something's got to give so I just wonder...in the course of a "perfect" day, how can it be that I look around and think..."There's simply no time left here."
But strangely enough, I know it will work.
You're coming at the best time of year for me, a time with no school or sports, (both HUGE time sucks) so by the time I'm ready to rally, the adjustment to you will already have been made.
And as far as there being enough time in a day, there already ISN'T.
So I'm just going to have to quiet my Type A, and roll better with the punches.
I want you to know this:
You were not a part of the initial plan.
I have wanted four children since I was little.
I made sure that whoever I married wanted a big family, too.
Four was our number.
But at some point, right after Greer arrived, my heart changed.
I knew, holding her, that four was no longer my number.
I am grateful that four was no longer Daddy's number either.
You are the addition that is built on a much-loved house.
A house that is SO loved, it can't be left, but more space is needed.
Plans are drafted, modifications are made, a green light is given.
A mess is made.
But the work is worth it.
And suddenly it's not remembered how it ever was before.
You are our addition, the renovation to our much-loved family.
Not in the initial blueprint.
But forever in the final plans.
I'll find room for you.
I will carve and steal and hoard.
I will move mountains and I will skip yoga.
And some day if I renovate again, I'll still make sure that I do all of these things.
For you.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
14 Weeks, 2 Days
Oh, you were so good, so GOOD, the other night!
You wanted that milkshake, huh?
I thought you would.
I did feel you, twice, right after I shut down my laptop.
And I ordered your drink of choice, made special for you by He Who Never Complains About Our Annoying Snack Requests.
Well, he rarely complains.
He has inquired a time or two why I can't just ask for a bag of chips or an apple, something simple like that.
Everything I (you) want needs to be steamed or sliced or mixed.
We just like being high maintenance is all.
Can't he understand that?
(He does--he sighs and acts like he hates it but he doesn't. Our high maintenance does not involve Gucci handbags or ridiculously priced shoes. He appreciates that. So he lets all else slide. And we get LOTS of milkshakes!)
I wanted to mention something I forgot the other night.
I said I'd gained nine pounds, right?
Which isn't unusual for me--I'm not, contrary to popular belief, one of "those girls" who only gains like 12 pounds in her pregnancy.
I find that to be...disturbingly Stepford Wife-ish.
Anyway, I can't say for certain what my starting weight was so I'm completely guessing by what the scale says now. I think I had a wee bit of a Mommy Crack issue this past summer (compliments of Panera) that led to a slight "baby got back" five pounds or so.
Whatever.
I knew I was going to get pregnant anyway so what was the point in denying myself those delicious whipped creamy calories???
The point of this is to say that yes, I could be a food freakazoid and monitor every thing that passes my mouth and I could work out seven days a week in order to keep those pounds down.
I know mamas like this and I don't much care to emulate them.
To each his own I say, but it's not for me.
I'm not saying I'm not health conscious or I that enjoy myself a little pig-a-thon for ten months; I don't.
I just don't do the other either.
I gain around 35 pounds every time and it does not matter if I eat milkshakes or carrot sticks.
It's just my weight gain.
And I'm okay with that--now, were it 95 pounds, I'd be keeping my mouth shut over here but I'm within the expected weight gain range.
The HIGH end but WHO CARES, right?
Here's what sucks though.
I gained nine pounds in three and a half months.
You weigh an OUNCE.
What. The. Hell.
You weigh an ounce?
An ounce??
How is that even measurable? And where in the (beeeeeep!) are these nine pounds of mine?
I ask that like I have no idea where, isn't that funny?
Oh, I know where they are and some of them I don't mind.
I've mentioned my fantastic..um...upgrades, yes?
Those can stay.
Those can actually stay forever.
But the rest?
Well, it's fun temporarily.
I'll leave it at that.
I do kind of enjoy yanking on (struggling into) yoga pants and truly droppin' it low because now I've got something to drop!
I could knock a Little through a wall with one swift swing of my hips!
So I do have fun with it.
And at the same time, I stare at my skinny girl jeans with palpable longing.
I don't think any woman just loooooves the additional poundage.
I don't love it. I don't love it at all.
But I try not to let it get in my way of enjoying this part of life.
And whenever I bemoan about a weight-related something to your daddy, do you know what he says?
"I love it."
Like, "My butt is growing as fast as my belly."
"I love it."
"My boobs are taking over my entire chest. They're going to be bigger than the baby's whole head. I'm going to smother the baby. Death by boob."
"I love it."
"MY GOD, do I have CANKLES???"
"I love it."
Does he mean it?
I honestly don't know.
Probably not.
But he makes me feel like he does and that's what's important.
And this is not to say, despite all that, that near the end of my pregnancy, I will not sit directly in front of a large, large mirror and weep about the state of my exploding self. And when he tries to tell me that he loves the way I look, I will turn on him viciously and accuse him of lying through his teeth.
Months nine and ten are wicked on self-esteem, let me tell you.
But then...it's over.
And every day after that, I get a bit of my old self back. Sure, my body will never be perfect. I'm not interested in a perfect body though. I lack that vanity at this point in my life and sure as hell lack the drive to get it that way. I just want to be healthy and strong and fit, with as little effort put into that as possible :)
I just, really, want to return to ME.
So all I can say is, you better come out STARVING because I need you to snap this body back into shape when it's all over. I'm not going to be super thrilled if I suddenly find myself out running FOR FUN whilst dripping sweat all over the place in order to take back my bod.
Anyway, I just want to tell four-inch-sized-you (four inches! When we saw you three weeks ago, you were HALF an inch long!) that I'm going to hang in there with you but if you could actually be a pound right now instead of an ounce, I'd feel a LOT better about this situation.
An ounce.
Good grief, child...
Loving you already,
Mama
You wanted that milkshake, huh?
I thought you would.
I did feel you, twice, right after I shut down my laptop.
And I ordered your drink of choice, made special for you by He Who Never Complains About Our Annoying Snack Requests.
Well, he rarely complains.
He has inquired a time or two why I can't just ask for a bag of chips or an apple, something simple like that.
Everything I (you) want needs to be steamed or sliced or mixed.
We just like being high maintenance is all.
Can't he understand that?
(He does--he sighs and acts like he hates it but he doesn't. Our high maintenance does not involve Gucci handbags or ridiculously priced shoes. He appreciates that. So he lets all else slide. And we get LOTS of milkshakes!)
I wanted to mention something I forgot the other night.
I said I'd gained nine pounds, right?
Which isn't unusual for me--I'm not, contrary to popular belief, one of "those girls" who only gains like 12 pounds in her pregnancy.
I find that to be...disturbingly Stepford Wife-ish.
Anyway, I can't say for certain what my starting weight was so I'm completely guessing by what the scale says now. I think I had a wee bit of a Mommy Crack issue this past summer (compliments of Panera) that led to a slight "baby got back" five pounds or so.
Whatever.
I knew I was going to get pregnant anyway so what was the point in denying myself those delicious whipped creamy calories???
The point of this is to say that yes, I could be a food freakazoid and monitor every thing that passes my mouth and I could work out seven days a week in order to keep those pounds down.
I know mamas like this and I don't much care to emulate them.
To each his own I say, but it's not for me.
I'm not saying I'm not health conscious or I that enjoy myself a little pig-a-thon for ten months; I don't.
I just don't do the other either.
I gain around 35 pounds every time and it does not matter if I eat milkshakes or carrot sticks.
It's just my weight gain.
And I'm okay with that--now, were it 95 pounds, I'd be keeping my mouth shut over here but I'm within the expected weight gain range.
The HIGH end but WHO CARES, right?
Here's what sucks though.
I gained nine pounds in three and a half months.
You weigh an OUNCE.
What. The. Hell.
You weigh an ounce?
An ounce??
How is that even measurable? And where in the (beeeeeep!) are these nine pounds of mine?
I ask that like I have no idea where, isn't that funny?
Oh, I know where they are and some of them I don't mind.
I've mentioned my fantastic..um...upgrades, yes?
Those can stay.
Those can actually stay forever.
But the rest?
Well, it's fun temporarily.
I'll leave it at that.
I do kind of enjoy yanking on (struggling into) yoga pants and truly droppin' it low because now I've got something to drop!
I could knock a Little through a wall with one swift swing of my hips!
So I do have fun with it.
And at the same time, I stare at my skinny girl jeans with palpable longing.
I don't think any woman just loooooves the additional poundage.
I don't love it. I don't love it at all.
But I try not to let it get in my way of enjoying this part of life.
And whenever I bemoan about a weight-related something to your daddy, do you know what he says?
"I love it."
Like, "My butt is growing as fast as my belly."
"I love it."
"My boobs are taking over my entire chest. They're going to be bigger than the baby's whole head. I'm going to smother the baby. Death by boob."
"I love it."
"MY GOD, do I have CANKLES???"
"I love it."
Does he mean it?
I honestly don't know.
Probably not.
But he makes me feel like he does and that's what's important.
And this is not to say, despite all that, that near the end of my pregnancy, I will not sit directly in front of a large, large mirror and weep about the state of my exploding self. And when he tries to tell me that he loves the way I look, I will turn on him viciously and accuse him of lying through his teeth.
Months nine and ten are wicked on self-esteem, let me tell you.
But then...it's over.
And every day after that, I get a bit of my old self back. Sure, my body will never be perfect. I'm not interested in a perfect body though. I lack that vanity at this point in my life and sure as hell lack the drive to get it that way. I just want to be healthy and strong and fit, with as little effort put into that as possible :)
I just, really, want to return to ME.
So all I can say is, you better come out STARVING because I need you to snap this body back into shape when it's all over. I'm not going to be super thrilled if I suddenly find myself out running FOR FUN whilst dripping sweat all over the place in order to take back my bod.
Anyway, I just want to tell four-inch-sized-you (four inches! When we saw you three weeks ago, you were HALF an inch long!) that I'm going to hang in there with you but if you could actually be a pound right now instead of an ounce, I'd feel a LOT better about this situation.
An ounce.
Good grief, child...
Loving you already,
Mama
Thursday, January 7, 2010
14 Weeks
I think this family of yours is starting to miss my days of sick.
Mama is a'whip crackin' right now!
There's much to be done and I really can't believe I literally took TWO MONTHS off, laying around, snoozin' and pukin' with you.
Ah, good times, huh?
(Nope.)
I feel absolutely normal now! I wouldn't even know I was pregnant if I didn't happen to pass by a mirror every now and again.
Well, that's not exactly true.
There are a few indications.
One is that I need a new bra.
Yowzers.
I had stuck a few nursing (maternity) bras in my drawer awhile back but they just looked enormous to me then.
Those bras have the "we mean business" look to them.
Lying next to my fun, little, dainty numbers I normally wear, it's sort of scary-looking. Like it's a Bully Bra.
Clothing-wise I'm still hanging on.
Certainly I haven't worn skinny girl pants since I peed on your stick, but I'm able to still comfortably wear all of my regular shirts and actually prefer these to any of the maternity stuff. My belly just isn't big enough to really fill out those shirts and they leave me feeling...inadequate.
As if I failed the shirt or something.
Plus, roomy isn't my thing.
I'm no longer able to sleep on my back (too uncomfortable, plus it's bad for you) or my stomach so I switch from side to side all night long. I'm not sleeping well either, I wake after several hours and then can't fall back asleep. This wouldn't be so bad but I end up spending the time awake wondering, "if the lava lamp in Rhyse's room over-heats, how I will get all of my babies out of the house?"
Seriously.
I make escape plans as I lay in the dark, literally whispering to myself and diagramming with my finger in the air, pointing directions here and there.
I'm sort of joking around with that but really, I have middle of the night anxiety and it usually stems around something catastrophic happening with your siblings while we're sleeping. Like what if our house were broken into? What if a child were snatched from bed? What if, truly, something caught on fire? (This leads to a, "Are the smoke detectors working?" conversation at the first light of dawn.) I always have worries like this when pregnant and I suppose it's just a manifestation of my own unacknowledged anxiety about how in the hell I will properly care for five children. So long as everyone survives, I think we're good but my dreams would indicate otherwise.
I can feel my body coming to terms with my new, frontal load. (That would be you.) I notice that I shift my weight around differently, spending more time sort of rocked back on my heels. No waddling yet (whew!) but I'm hitting the point where I probably shouldn't be lifting Greer and Creux so much because it doesn't feel great. That's hard though because, especially with him, he's still just a baby, really. A 33-pound baby who thinks that I'm his own private roller coaster ride.
Oh! Here's a new development compliments of you! (The 33-pound Creux thing triggered my memory.) We finally, for the first time ever, bought a scale! And last night, we all rallied around it, stepping on and off and ooohing and ahhhing over the lights and the numbers.
Chas called us "simpletons" which I thought was funny.
Really, I can't explain why we have always been scale-less (and I've gained and lost...about 140 or so pounds in all these pregnancies which is over a whole ME so you'd think I'd have been interested a time or two but I haven't) except that we're just not a weight-number-minded family. We eat healthy and we're active and that's always been enough for me. I've just never wanted to be wrapped up in the digit part of it because I know my body and I know what weight feels good to me and I think it would be easy to obsess unnecessarily. That whole up-a-pound, down-a-pound thing. Bad, bad, bad to a control freak like moi :)
I've gained nine pounds in these 14 weeks and this weight still feels good to me. Later, it won't. But right now, I'm good. We're healthy. And that's is a normal gain for me, just passing my first trimester.
We saw our midwives yesterday! We had another great appointment and were able to hear your heartbeat again. Yesterday you clocked in at 148, to which the midwife said, "Now some people would say that's a girl..." But then we agreed that neither of us believe the heartbeat stuff. My boys have had racing hearts, far higher than that, and it's never meant anything...but a racing heart.
A super cool thing about hearing your heartbeat yesterday was that I was, for the first time ever, able to hear my own at the same time! Abby pointed it out to me, "Do you hear the baby, that fast whomp-whomp-whomp? And can you hear the slower one? That's you. That's your heart." I'd never before heard TWO hearts beating in my body at the same time and it was a little bit wild! As always, stuff like that just completely astounds me, to really realize what my body is capable of doing. The mere fact that I can sustain us both is a miracle. But it was truly special to hear those two hearts combined, both working hard, independently but not alone.
There are no examination tables at CHOICE so I sprawled out on a comfy couch to get you measured. Abby tried to help me find my uterus, I kept feeling for it but I wasn't really able to determine where it was quite yet. We measured great, right on for our due date, and she showed me how to check for fluid retention. (I push hard on the side of my shin and count how long it takes for the indentation to leave--I had no indentation which means I am not retaining any water. Yet :)) I also checked my own urine for protein (none) AND weighed myself! Most of the time all of this stuff is done by the nursing staff but the midwives hand me the reins.
I own this pregnancy!
And I love it!! :)
It's so empowering to not be a passive participant here like I normally am. Usually, I show up for my monthly visits and I'm a PATIENT. Here, I am taught how to manage myself. They are constantly teaching me, talking to me every step of the way, explaining every bit of what's going on, encouraging me to step forward and participate.
Most of this visit centered around my sharing my medical history and it was scheduled for two hours but we went over the time and only made it through two of my four births.
I suppose there's a bit of a "maybe issue" on the table, one that does cause me a bit of concern but only, really, for pain management purposes.
Twice, I've had a "retained placenta" which basically means that it just doesn't come out like it's supposed to and someone's got to go in after it.
It's truly as unpleasant as it sounds and I'm completely sugar-coating that statement.
Because it's happened twice, we're picking apart my previous deliveries and trying to establish why it's occurred and a lot of interesting things have come up in discussion.
The problem with this situation is that it's extremely, and I mean extremely, painful for me when it occurs and could be somewhat dangerous. The first time it happened with Chas, it was severe. I'd had an epidural and felt nothing at all during the delivery and was coo'ing over my brand-new baby when my doctor mentioned something about the placenta and then literally starting pulling my insides out. Though I'd never felt a thing during the birth, I was screaming from the pain, they ended up ripping Chas from my arms, (I can still hear someone saying, "Take the baby!") and I honestly felt like I was going to die. My doctor had her arm, all the way to her elbow, inside me, trying to pull the placenta from the wall of my uterus. The energy shift in the room was pure terror to experience, where one minute everyone was calm and things were fine and the next people were yelling and kicking stools out of the way and racing around, trying to do what they could to help out.
To this day, it's the absolute worst thing I've ever gone through, positively the scariest moment of my life.
(And maybe it's even a bit worse for Daddy because he can't react or I'll absolutely go wild. I'd never seen him truly frightened before that situation during Chas' birth and I remember looking at him and seeing that he was panicked and I felt my own fear rachet up a million fold.
I said to him later, "You can never, ever do that to me again. Whatever happens, you can't freak out because I'll see it and it will scare me more than anything else.")
Though I had anxiety about it occurring again with Rhyse, it didn't.
But with Greer, it struck again, though no where near as bad as it had been with Chas. It still hurt but it wasn't stitched as tight to my uterine wall so the pain was manageable. (And though I'd technically had an epidural, it was too late for any numbing through the birth, she came so fast, but by the time we got to this point, I think it had kicked in and helped a bit.)
So...the problem is that if this occurs at home, I will not have access to any anesthesia. And it, quote, "is one of the most painful things that we eever have to do a patient". So say the midwives and it's only happened four times in their collective experiences. But this sends chills right down my spine because though I forget many things in my life, I've never forgotten the pain from that MEDICATED situation with Chas. I simply can't imagine going through that without anything. I don't know how I would make it, honestly. (I did ask them if they could knock me out, like physically, but I think they thought I was joking. I totally wasn't.)
But then I was also just kind of thinking...well, if it doesn't come out, can't we just pop into the car and head to the ER, get me a little numby somethin' somethin' and deal with it there?
Ah, but I forgot about the little "bleeding" issue.
If the uterus can't clamp down, which it can't with a placenta intact, then I'll be bleeding until that's resolved and THAT won't be a good situation for me.
So they'll have to remove it if it comes to that and I'll have to survive it.
Gulp. That's scuurry.
It's scary but it's not got me flipping tracks. I suppose that it the deepest part of me, I've resigned myself to this process and all that it includes. Honestly, your birth is only slightly freaky to me because I typically do most of the work on my own anyway, I know I can get to eight cm without dying, and I know what that whole pushing, burning, wildness feels like at the end when you babies emerge because I felt it (albeit somewhat with the edge off) with Greer. The placenta thing...will absolutely cause me to lose nights of sleep leading up to the big day and you can bet that while I'm holding you and counting your fingers, I'm going to be completely aware of what's going on with my body at the same time. They are confident that, given enough time and not rushing (which may have been the problem in the past--just not enough time given to my body to complete the process. Maybe I'm just a slow finisher :)) it will come out on its own.
And if not, I'm going to have to get through it. I will just have to be mentally prepared, as well as I can be, for that reality. (Am screaming inside my head right now just imagining!)
They've asked if I would be willing to have an ultrasound done at 28 weeks to pin down where and how my placenta is growing.
I couldn't have said "yes!" faster.
Oh, to see you again?
Are they kidding???
We'll be heading back in around 20 weeks to peek at you again but I guess that won't be our last Baby spotting! I've never had an ultrasound that late, at 28 weeks, so I'm curious to see what you'll look like all squished up in there. At 20 weeks, you'll be doing fabulous acrobatics, fully loving your roomy (I said I didn't DO roomy but I didn't say that I WASN'T roomy) pad. By 28, I think it's much less fun for you, what with having your knees curled up to your chest 22 hours of the day.
So there's the skinny on our latest news. All in all, I still feel really good about this home birth and I absolutely want to proceed. I might REALLY hate the decision for an excruciating little while but I still think it'll be worth whatever I end up going through. I never thought any of it would be a walk in the park, anyway. I'm a massive baby myself, I don't handle pain well at all, so I know I'm going to have to dig deep in general. Now I'll just dig a little deeper and cross my fingers and make a few deals with Mother Nature (what could I offer her for my placenta???) and hope for the best.
Loving you already,
Mama
PS...I think I felt you last night but I can't really say. Nothing definite since SUNDAY. Am due for a decent whack, wouldn't you say? (Please? Pretty please? I'll get you a milkshake...)
Hmmm. As I'm proof-reading, I think I feel you again. But for a milkshake, you're going to have to whack a bit harder. I need to KNOW it's you, not think it's you. I've got a scale now and that makes the milkshake count. How bad do you want it, Baby???
Mama is a'whip crackin' right now!
There's much to be done and I really can't believe I literally took TWO MONTHS off, laying around, snoozin' and pukin' with you.
Ah, good times, huh?
(Nope.)
I feel absolutely normal now! I wouldn't even know I was pregnant if I didn't happen to pass by a mirror every now and again.
Well, that's not exactly true.
There are a few indications.
One is that I need a new bra.
Yowzers.
I had stuck a few nursing (maternity) bras in my drawer awhile back but they just looked enormous to me then.
Those bras have the "we mean business" look to them.
Lying next to my fun, little, dainty numbers I normally wear, it's sort of scary-looking. Like it's a Bully Bra.
Clothing-wise I'm still hanging on.
Certainly I haven't worn skinny girl pants since I peed on your stick, but I'm able to still comfortably wear all of my regular shirts and actually prefer these to any of the maternity stuff. My belly just isn't big enough to really fill out those shirts and they leave me feeling...inadequate.
As if I failed the shirt or something.
Plus, roomy isn't my thing.
I'm no longer able to sleep on my back (too uncomfortable, plus it's bad for you) or my stomach so I switch from side to side all night long. I'm not sleeping well either, I wake after several hours and then can't fall back asleep. This wouldn't be so bad but I end up spending the time awake wondering, "if the lava lamp in Rhyse's room over-heats, how I will get all of my babies out of the house?"
Seriously.
I make escape plans as I lay in the dark, literally whispering to myself and diagramming with my finger in the air, pointing directions here and there.
I'm sort of joking around with that but really, I have middle of the night anxiety and it usually stems around something catastrophic happening with your siblings while we're sleeping. Like what if our house were broken into? What if a child were snatched from bed? What if, truly, something caught on fire? (This leads to a, "Are the smoke detectors working?" conversation at the first light of dawn.) I always have worries like this when pregnant and I suppose it's just a manifestation of my own unacknowledged anxiety about how in the hell I will properly care for five children. So long as everyone survives, I think we're good but my dreams would indicate otherwise.
I can feel my body coming to terms with my new, frontal load. (That would be you.) I notice that I shift my weight around differently, spending more time sort of rocked back on my heels. No waddling yet (whew!) but I'm hitting the point where I probably shouldn't be lifting Greer and Creux so much because it doesn't feel great. That's hard though because, especially with him, he's still just a baby, really. A 33-pound baby who thinks that I'm his own private roller coaster ride.
Oh! Here's a new development compliments of you! (The 33-pound Creux thing triggered my memory.) We finally, for the first time ever, bought a scale! And last night, we all rallied around it, stepping on and off and ooohing and ahhhing over the lights and the numbers.
Chas called us "simpletons" which I thought was funny.
Really, I can't explain why we have always been scale-less (and I've gained and lost...about 140 or so pounds in all these pregnancies which is over a whole ME so you'd think I'd have been interested a time or two but I haven't) except that we're just not a weight-number-minded family. We eat healthy and we're active and that's always been enough for me. I've just never wanted to be wrapped up in the digit part of it because I know my body and I know what weight feels good to me and I think it would be easy to obsess unnecessarily. That whole up-a-pound, down-a-pound thing. Bad, bad, bad to a control freak like moi :)
I've gained nine pounds in these 14 weeks and this weight still feels good to me. Later, it won't. But right now, I'm good. We're healthy. And that's is a normal gain for me, just passing my first trimester.
We saw our midwives yesterday! We had another great appointment and were able to hear your heartbeat again. Yesterday you clocked in at 148, to which the midwife said, "Now some people would say that's a girl..." But then we agreed that neither of us believe the heartbeat stuff. My boys have had racing hearts, far higher than that, and it's never meant anything...but a racing heart.
A super cool thing about hearing your heartbeat yesterday was that I was, for the first time ever, able to hear my own at the same time! Abby pointed it out to me, "Do you hear the baby, that fast whomp-whomp-whomp? And can you hear the slower one? That's you. That's your heart." I'd never before heard TWO hearts beating in my body at the same time and it was a little bit wild! As always, stuff like that just completely astounds me, to really realize what my body is capable of doing. The mere fact that I can sustain us both is a miracle. But it was truly special to hear those two hearts combined, both working hard, independently but not alone.
There are no examination tables at CHOICE so I sprawled out on a comfy couch to get you measured. Abby tried to help me find my uterus, I kept feeling for it but I wasn't really able to determine where it was quite yet. We measured great, right on for our due date, and she showed me how to check for fluid retention. (I push hard on the side of my shin and count how long it takes for the indentation to leave--I had no indentation which means I am not retaining any water. Yet :)) I also checked my own urine for protein (none) AND weighed myself! Most of the time all of this stuff is done by the nursing staff but the midwives hand me the reins.
I own this pregnancy!
And I love it!! :)
It's so empowering to not be a passive participant here like I normally am. Usually, I show up for my monthly visits and I'm a PATIENT. Here, I am taught how to manage myself. They are constantly teaching me, talking to me every step of the way, explaining every bit of what's going on, encouraging me to step forward and participate.
Most of this visit centered around my sharing my medical history and it was scheduled for two hours but we went over the time and only made it through two of my four births.
I suppose there's a bit of a "maybe issue" on the table, one that does cause me a bit of concern but only, really, for pain management purposes.
Twice, I've had a "retained placenta" which basically means that it just doesn't come out like it's supposed to and someone's got to go in after it.
It's truly as unpleasant as it sounds and I'm completely sugar-coating that statement.
Because it's happened twice, we're picking apart my previous deliveries and trying to establish why it's occurred and a lot of interesting things have come up in discussion.
The problem with this situation is that it's extremely, and I mean extremely, painful for me when it occurs and could be somewhat dangerous. The first time it happened with Chas, it was severe. I'd had an epidural and felt nothing at all during the delivery and was coo'ing over my brand-new baby when my doctor mentioned something about the placenta and then literally starting pulling my insides out. Though I'd never felt a thing during the birth, I was screaming from the pain, they ended up ripping Chas from my arms, (I can still hear someone saying, "Take the baby!") and I honestly felt like I was going to die. My doctor had her arm, all the way to her elbow, inside me, trying to pull the placenta from the wall of my uterus. The energy shift in the room was pure terror to experience, where one minute everyone was calm and things were fine and the next people were yelling and kicking stools out of the way and racing around, trying to do what they could to help out.
To this day, it's the absolute worst thing I've ever gone through, positively the scariest moment of my life.
(And maybe it's even a bit worse for Daddy because he can't react or I'll absolutely go wild. I'd never seen him truly frightened before that situation during Chas' birth and I remember looking at him and seeing that he was panicked and I felt my own fear rachet up a million fold.
I said to him later, "You can never, ever do that to me again. Whatever happens, you can't freak out because I'll see it and it will scare me more than anything else.")
Though I had anxiety about it occurring again with Rhyse, it didn't.
But with Greer, it struck again, though no where near as bad as it had been with Chas. It still hurt but it wasn't stitched as tight to my uterine wall so the pain was manageable. (And though I'd technically had an epidural, it was too late for any numbing through the birth, she came so fast, but by the time we got to this point, I think it had kicked in and helped a bit.)
So...the problem is that if this occurs at home, I will not have access to any anesthesia. And it, quote, "is one of the most painful things that we eever have to do a patient". So say the midwives and it's only happened four times in their collective experiences. But this sends chills right down my spine because though I forget many things in my life, I've never forgotten the pain from that MEDICATED situation with Chas. I simply can't imagine going through that without anything. I don't know how I would make it, honestly. (I did ask them if they could knock me out, like physically, but I think they thought I was joking. I totally wasn't.)
But then I was also just kind of thinking...well, if it doesn't come out, can't we just pop into the car and head to the ER, get me a little numby somethin' somethin' and deal with it there?
Ah, but I forgot about the little "bleeding" issue.
If the uterus can't clamp down, which it can't with a placenta intact, then I'll be bleeding until that's resolved and THAT won't be a good situation for me.
So they'll have to remove it if it comes to that and I'll have to survive it.
Gulp. That's scuurry.
It's scary but it's not got me flipping tracks. I suppose that it the deepest part of me, I've resigned myself to this process and all that it includes. Honestly, your birth is only slightly freaky to me because I typically do most of the work on my own anyway, I know I can get to eight cm without dying, and I know what that whole pushing, burning, wildness feels like at the end when you babies emerge because I felt it (albeit somewhat with the edge off) with Greer. The placenta thing...will absolutely cause me to lose nights of sleep leading up to the big day and you can bet that while I'm holding you and counting your fingers, I'm going to be completely aware of what's going on with my body at the same time. They are confident that, given enough time and not rushing (which may have been the problem in the past--just not enough time given to my body to complete the process. Maybe I'm just a slow finisher :)) it will come out on its own.
And if not, I'm going to have to get through it. I will just have to be mentally prepared, as well as I can be, for that reality. (Am screaming inside my head right now just imagining!)
They've asked if I would be willing to have an ultrasound done at 28 weeks to pin down where and how my placenta is growing.
I couldn't have said "yes!" faster.
Oh, to see you again?
Are they kidding???
We'll be heading back in around 20 weeks to peek at you again but I guess that won't be our last Baby spotting! I've never had an ultrasound that late, at 28 weeks, so I'm curious to see what you'll look like all squished up in there. At 20 weeks, you'll be doing fabulous acrobatics, fully loving your roomy (I said I didn't DO roomy but I didn't say that I WASN'T roomy) pad. By 28, I think it's much less fun for you, what with having your knees curled up to your chest 22 hours of the day.
So there's the skinny on our latest news. All in all, I still feel really good about this home birth and I absolutely want to proceed. I might REALLY hate the decision for an excruciating little while but I still think it'll be worth whatever I end up going through. I never thought any of it would be a walk in the park, anyway. I'm a massive baby myself, I don't handle pain well at all, so I know I'm going to have to dig deep in general. Now I'll just dig a little deeper and cross my fingers and make a few deals with Mother Nature (what could I offer her for my placenta???) and hope for the best.
Loving you already,
Mama
PS...I think I felt you last night but I can't really say. Nothing definite since SUNDAY. Am due for a decent whack, wouldn't you say? (Please? Pretty please? I'll get you a milkshake...)
Hmmm. As I'm proof-reading, I think I feel you again. But for a milkshake, you're going to have to whack a bit harder. I need to KNOW it's you, not think it's you. I've got a scale now and that makes the milkshake count. How bad do you want it, Baby???
Monday, January 4, 2010
13 Weeks, 4 Days
A week since I've written! Unheard of!
I have a really good excuse though: I was busy having fun!
It feels nice to finally write something pleasant for a change.
I bet you were wondering if I started this book just so I could catalogue my list of complaints caused by you, so that when you're hassling me over curfew or something annoyingly teenager-ish, I can point you to the first three chapters of this book and say, "You're going to do this to me after all I went through for you???"
I promise I won't do that.
I will save those comments for when you announce you want to move to Colorado or marry a European and live in foreign city or when you want to name my grandchild something common.
That was a joke, the name thing.
But really, you shouldn't tell me anyway because I WILL have an opinion.
I'm your mother, after all.
I will have an opinion on everything and unlike other mothers, which you will spend years telling me about, I will have no problem informing you of my every opinion.
I'm all settled in the couch, my favorite perch for writing to you, and I couldn't wait to get your siblings in bed tonight so I could snatch my laptop and my best blanket and sit and talk with you for a bit.
I have some important info to share!
First, since I mentioned the name thing, let me tell you what happened concerning that because surprise, surprise, out popped your Maybe Boy Name this weekend!
The Harmons were in town to celebrate the new year with us (Happy Year of You, by the way!) and somehow when we were playing a game, the issue of baby names came up, the story I told awhile back about the teacher at co-op who called Creux the very uncommon name we're considering for you if you're a bouncing baby boy.
And to my shock, Scott said, "I love the name ____."
Wouldn't you know it just so happened to be that Maybe Boy Name for you??
My jaw dropped, I turned to Daddy, my eyes absolutely bugging out and I said, "Oh. My. Goodness. THAT'S OUR NAME!!!"
I couldn't help myself! Even if I hadn't said anything, it was written all over my face and I saw it register with Lynn so there was no faking it.
So this leaves me with a perplexing conundrum: is this name just meant to be or have we not reached far enough out of the box?
But I am a connoisseur of freakishly obsure baby names and I'm telling you that I really think this name is suitable for a child of our making :) I really don't think it's out there very much at all, I personally have never crossed a little boy carrying the name, but unlike "Rhyse" everyone will recognize this one for sure.
It's early still. I have oodles of baby naming time and I will unearth some fantastic possibilities for you and whatever we choose will be perfect.
I just can't believe it's come up TWICE in this pregnancy so far! It's truly a little mind-boggling to me!
In other news, I am feeling wonderful! Absolutely great! The nausea is nearly a thing of the past with me really only facing it a time or two a week at this point. I did get sick again recently but it had been a long time (over a week?) in-between toilet hugs. And honestly, I didn't even really mind it! I laid on the couch and tried to will it away for a bit but finally decided to give in, asked Daddy to clean the potty, and then I entertained our guests with my musical despair. All in all though, so long as I can get a rest period in every day, I'm pretty good to go.
Finally, we live in harmony. (Thank you, thank you, thank you. That SUCKED.)
My best news to share?
I FEEL YOU!
I don't feel you every day and I can't really even pinpoint when those wee knocks finally registered in my brain as to what they were but it has been within the week. I know some will say this is WAY too early to be feeling babies but they're absolutely wrong. I know baby knocking and baby, YOU'RE KNOCKING!
I do know that the first time it clicked for me I was laying on this couch, watching tv. I think subconsciously I might have logged the first tiny thump but it was the second one that pulled my attention from the tv and I stilled and waited. You didn't tap again that night, I know because I waited, but I've felt you several times over the last few days. Sunday was the most recent, where you bumped me twice during a nap I was taking mid-afternoon. I happened to just be laying in bed, thinking quietly, when you caught my attention. I put my hand there on my belly where I knew you were but I couldn't catch you. Even sitting here now, my body is attentive. I know I'm most likely to feel you at night, when I sit down finally and I'm quiet, restful, so now I'm contantly on-guard.
Oh, how I delight in those little taps from you! I giggled like Greer the first time I realized what I was feeling, I was just so tickled to finally be privy to your movements! I can tell just from how faint your touch is how tiny you are still. I don't feel "flutterings", I never have. My babies pound. What you feel like to me now is a gently finger-flick on the inside of my tummy. If I didn't know what that sensation was, I wouldn't link it to you. But I do know. And I'm positive it's you! You're the earliest one I've felt by a few weeks--I remember distinctly that Chas was at 16 weeks but thinking back, I remember Rhyse was somewhere around 14 though I didn't think that was possible. (Why do we mamas second guess just because a book says it's too early???) And I can't remember with Greer but I think Creux was a bit later than Rhyse, 15 weeks maybe.
See, it's good to have this book. Because now with you, I'll never forget!
Anyway, that's been super fun for me, just waiting around to see if you'll be up playing hard enough to be noticeable to me. And as the weeks pass, you'll get stronger and soon I'll be feeling you every day.
We've got a big appointment coming up with the midwives this week! A two-hour long medical history dig-a-thon, set to occur on Wednesday. The midwives we're using do things MUCH differently than the doctors, even the midwives, that I've used in the past. The biggest difference is that I'm running the show, for the most part. For example, if I don't want an internal examination, then they don't do one. (Listen, there could not be better news given to a woman. Trust me on this.) For my first appointment, I was expecting the usual horrific work-up that involved things like stirrups, bright lights and a wicked instrument called a speculum. But I was promptly informed that since it was my body, I had the right to choose whether or not I wanted to participate in that.
Huh?
I've never had anyone say that to me before, EVER. But these women see childbirth less as a medical "condition" and more of just a natural extension of every day life. In fact, I never have to have ANY form of internal manipulating if I don't want it. Normally at the end of a pregnancy, those occur weekly, to see if there's been any progress in dilation but with these midwives of mine, if I don't want them digging around in my girly bits, then I don't have them digging around in my girly bits.
It's friggin liberating, is what it is.
(I swore, SWORE, I would keep the cursing to a minumum here in this book for you but if I don't at least sort of sound like myself you're going to ask, "WHO wrote that because it wasn't Mom!" once you really get to know me. I have a terrible potty mouth. It's just the way I was built ;))
Anyway, to be told that I have complete and total control over who accesses my body and my baby should not be as stupifying as it is but coming from regular managed care, one is just not given that same right. Every woman follows the office's policy of how pregnancy is managed.
But I'm in a different place now, surrounded by completely different schools of thought regarding my care and I'm just totally in awe of how respectful and thoughtful and....mine....this new way is.
For the record, we're skipping all manner of internal probings until we're near your due date.
I do like to know my progress, after all, I tend to labor for weeks and I don't care who you are, getting to five centimeters is hard, painful work, whether it's done the day of labor or done, as in my case, in the weeks and days leading up to birth. Knowing that my body is progressing is one of the only things that quiets my VERY pregnant and done-with-this mind and helps me hold on another day.
Ok Baby, good to catch up!
I promise not to go so long between posts.
Loving you already,
Mama
I have a really good excuse though: I was busy having fun!
It feels nice to finally write something pleasant for a change.
I bet you were wondering if I started this book just so I could catalogue my list of complaints caused by you, so that when you're hassling me over curfew or something annoyingly teenager-ish, I can point you to the first three chapters of this book and say, "You're going to do this to me after all I went through for you???"
I promise I won't do that.
I will save those comments for when you announce you want to move to Colorado or marry a European and live in foreign city or when you want to name my grandchild something common.
That was a joke, the name thing.
But really, you shouldn't tell me anyway because I WILL have an opinion.
I'm your mother, after all.
I will have an opinion on everything and unlike other mothers, which you will spend years telling me about, I will have no problem informing you of my every opinion.
I'm all settled in the couch, my favorite perch for writing to you, and I couldn't wait to get your siblings in bed tonight so I could snatch my laptop and my best blanket and sit and talk with you for a bit.
I have some important info to share!
First, since I mentioned the name thing, let me tell you what happened concerning that because surprise, surprise, out popped your Maybe Boy Name this weekend!
The Harmons were in town to celebrate the new year with us (Happy Year of You, by the way!) and somehow when we were playing a game, the issue of baby names came up, the story I told awhile back about the teacher at co-op who called Creux the very uncommon name we're considering for you if you're a bouncing baby boy.
And to my shock, Scott said, "I love the name ____."
Wouldn't you know it just so happened to be that Maybe Boy Name for you??
My jaw dropped, I turned to Daddy, my eyes absolutely bugging out and I said, "Oh. My. Goodness. THAT'S OUR NAME!!!"
I couldn't help myself! Even if I hadn't said anything, it was written all over my face and I saw it register with Lynn so there was no faking it.
So this leaves me with a perplexing conundrum: is this name just meant to be or have we not reached far enough out of the box?
But I am a connoisseur of freakishly obsure baby names and I'm telling you that I really think this name is suitable for a child of our making :) I really don't think it's out there very much at all, I personally have never crossed a little boy carrying the name, but unlike "Rhyse" everyone will recognize this one for sure.
It's early still. I have oodles of baby naming time and I will unearth some fantastic possibilities for you and whatever we choose will be perfect.
I just can't believe it's come up TWICE in this pregnancy so far! It's truly a little mind-boggling to me!
In other news, I am feeling wonderful! Absolutely great! The nausea is nearly a thing of the past with me really only facing it a time or two a week at this point. I did get sick again recently but it had been a long time (over a week?) in-between toilet hugs. And honestly, I didn't even really mind it! I laid on the couch and tried to will it away for a bit but finally decided to give in, asked Daddy to clean the potty, and then I entertained our guests with my musical despair. All in all though, so long as I can get a rest period in every day, I'm pretty good to go.
Finally, we live in harmony. (Thank you, thank you, thank you. That SUCKED.)
My best news to share?
I FEEL YOU!
I don't feel you every day and I can't really even pinpoint when those wee knocks finally registered in my brain as to what they were but it has been within the week. I know some will say this is WAY too early to be feeling babies but they're absolutely wrong. I know baby knocking and baby, YOU'RE KNOCKING!
I do know that the first time it clicked for me I was laying on this couch, watching tv. I think subconsciously I might have logged the first tiny thump but it was the second one that pulled my attention from the tv and I stilled and waited. You didn't tap again that night, I know because I waited, but I've felt you several times over the last few days. Sunday was the most recent, where you bumped me twice during a nap I was taking mid-afternoon. I happened to just be laying in bed, thinking quietly, when you caught my attention. I put my hand there on my belly where I knew you were but I couldn't catch you. Even sitting here now, my body is attentive. I know I'm most likely to feel you at night, when I sit down finally and I'm quiet, restful, so now I'm contantly on-guard.
Oh, how I delight in those little taps from you! I giggled like Greer the first time I realized what I was feeling, I was just so tickled to finally be privy to your movements! I can tell just from how faint your touch is how tiny you are still. I don't feel "flutterings", I never have. My babies pound. What you feel like to me now is a gently finger-flick on the inside of my tummy. If I didn't know what that sensation was, I wouldn't link it to you. But I do know. And I'm positive it's you! You're the earliest one I've felt by a few weeks--I remember distinctly that Chas was at 16 weeks but thinking back, I remember Rhyse was somewhere around 14 though I didn't think that was possible. (Why do we mamas second guess just because a book says it's too early???) And I can't remember with Greer but I think Creux was a bit later than Rhyse, 15 weeks maybe.
See, it's good to have this book. Because now with you, I'll never forget!
Anyway, that's been super fun for me, just waiting around to see if you'll be up playing hard enough to be noticeable to me. And as the weeks pass, you'll get stronger and soon I'll be feeling you every day.
We've got a big appointment coming up with the midwives this week! A two-hour long medical history dig-a-thon, set to occur on Wednesday. The midwives we're using do things MUCH differently than the doctors, even the midwives, that I've used in the past. The biggest difference is that I'm running the show, for the most part. For example, if I don't want an internal examination, then they don't do one. (Listen, there could not be better news given to a woman. Trust me on this.) For my first appointment, I was expecting the usual horrific work-up that involved things like stirrups, bright lights and a wicked instrument called a speculum. But I was promptly informed that since it was my body, I had the right to choose whether or not I wanted to participate in that.
Huh?
I've never had anyone say that to me before, EVER. But these women see childbirth less as a medical "condition" and more of just a natural extension of every day life. In fact, I never have to have ANY form of internal manipulating if I don't want it. Normally at the end of a pregnancy, those occur weekly, to see if there's been any progress in dilation but with these midwives of mine, if I don't want them digging around in my girly bits, then I don't have them digging around in my girly bits.
It's friggin liberating, is what it is.
(I swore, SWORE, I would keep the cursing to a minumum here in this book for you but if I don't at least sort of sound like myself you're going to ask, "WHO wrote that because it wasn't Mom!" once you really get to know me. I have a terrible potty mouth. It's just the way I was built ;))
Anyway, to be told that I have complete and total control over who accesses my body and my baby should not be as stupifying as it is but coming from regular managed care, one is just not given that same right. Every woman follows the office's policy of how pregnancy is managed.
But I'm in a different place now, surrounded by completely different schools of thought regarding my care and I'm just totally in awe of how respectful and thoughtful and....mine....this new way is.
For the record, we're skipping all manner of internal probings until we're near your due date.
I do like to know my progress, after all, I tend to labor for weeks and I don't care who you are, getting to five centimeters is hard, painful work, whether it's done the day of labor or done, as in my case, in the weeks and days leading up to birth. Knowing that my body is progressing is one of the only things that quiets my VERY pregnant and done-with-this mind and helps me hold on another day.
Ok Baby, good to catch up!
I promise not to go so long between posts.
Loving you already,
Mama
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