I'm looking at pictures of you.
It's the strangest thing, really.
Here I have nearly 60 photos from our last ultra-sound shoot and it's of this face that...I don't know.
I can sit in the privacy of my own home and literally study you.
I have shots of your hands and your ears and your nose and I'm just sitting here trying to put them all together.
It's very surreal.
Your face, the contours of which are now unfamiliar to me, will soon be one that I could pick out from hundreds of babies by touch alone.
I will know every curve, every inch just about as well as I know my own.
I can close my eyes right now and bring up Rhyse's face and truthfully say that I know every bit of it.
Every. Single. Bit.
But for now, I look at you curiously.
Trying hard to see the familial resemblance, of which I couldn't see at first.
Last time we saw you, I was left with the impression of Chas as a newborn.
Tonight I commented during the ultrasound that I couldn't see much resemblance at all to anyone.
Having left the photos for awhile, I just returned to them a few minutes ago and pulled one up and thought,"Rhyse."
You looked like him to me just then which leads me directly to Creux because those boys are nearly identical, especially when comparing them at the same ages.
Your hands are big, this I can tell.
More mitts.
Those are from your dad's side of the family.
Mitts and hooves.
My side of the family is long-legged and lean.
Daddy's is not :)
Short legs and long torsos, that's the Martin thing.
We're two for two, there.
Chas and Greer take after me, Rhyse and Creux like Daddy.
I wonder where you'll fit in?
Here's something I think about a lot and perhaps it's a strange thing:
It's your eye color.
You were peeking tonight, just a bit here and there and I thought...I wonder if those will be blue like your dad's or green like mine?
Out of all four of your siblings, there's only one green-eyed babe and it's Rhyse.
Chas has the bluest of blues (another Martin characteristic) while Greer is blue too...if you look closely in her eyes, you can see a rim of me there.
A small circle of green, outlining her pupil, before the whole thing just lights up into brilliant blue.
My eye color is my absolute favorite trait and one that I've always felt has sort of set me apart a little bit.
It's the rarest color passed down and only 2-5% of the world's population has them.
I looked it up once, because I wanted to know how recessive they are as a trait.
They are very recessive.
So...I think that makes them very cool :)
My greens come from my own father and though I do not have any contact with him, on occasion I see my cousins from that side of the family.
All long-legged, skinny women with striking green eyes.
It's always been a bit off-putting to me in a way to see such a strong resemblance of my own to family that I don't really know.
But who look A LOT like me.
My hands, my eyes, my build all pulled together in a smattering of people that are family but are removed family.
Most people think I look like my mother but that's because that's who they see.
I think I look more like my dad and I definitely look a lot like his sister's grown children, those cousins of mine.
Which is....complicated.
So for me, staring into Rhyse's green eyes is as close as it gets to really seeing a true piece of me passed along.
I don't see that on a regular basis; I don't see my dad or my cousins and have the opportunity to notice those small things that signify that we are genetically related.
And maybe because my eye color is so rare to cross and yet because it's so not in the "other" part of my lineage or maybe it's because it is something that I identify with as "me" so strongly...it's something that just tickles me to see in one of my own children.
Either way, you win.
You'll have the clearest, bluest of blues that will be nearly blinding in the sunlight.
Or you'll have glittering greens that will flare brilliantly with the passion of your feelings.
(Your Memaw has always commented on how mine would flash crazily when we would argue over boys or curfew or why I'm not wearing the super cute, super short skirt I had just bought WITH MY OWN MONEY.)
(And she was almost always right, by the way. Completely annoying but right. So don't bother flashing your blues OR greens at me over issues of those kind, either. I am not swayed by a pretty set of eyes--and neither was she, let me tell you!)
As for the rest of you....
We were told to look away right from the start so the tech could get a good once-over without you announcing your gender to the room.
You weighed in at two pounds and 13 ounces, length 16 inches long.
Using some formula, the tech projected your birth weight to be eight pounds, five ounces and length at 19 inches.
That's big for me but big is suddenly the average.
Rhyse was eight pounds, two ounces and Creux was eight pounds, eleven and a half ounces.
And Creux, just mere ounces more, was enormously more uncomfortable to carry than Rhyse.
(Greer was near perfect at seven pounds, 14 ounces and poor Chas was like a bag of potato chips at five pounds, eleven ounces.)
Annoyingly, your measurements indicate an arrival date of JULY ELEVENTH.
What in the hell is going on with you, child?
First it's the 8th, which is what is correct if we're going by conception date.
I think.
But it could be the 9th if you took awhile processing or whatever it is that you do when you're deciding how to split your cells up and make yourself whole.
However, the 11th is OUT OF THE QUESTION.
"I'm not going to change your due date at this point," said the ultrasound lady.
Yeah, no kidding you're not.
I'll go stark raving mad if my date switches again and KEEPS HEADING BACKWARDS.
When people ask me when I'm due, I say "Early July" because I don't want to pin my hopes on one day.
But I'd be lying through my teeth if I didn't admit that I'll go a smidgey bonkers if I pass the 9th.
(Oh, don't be cruel. Do not pass the 9th. Do you need a calendar in there?)
We're just going to be optimistic here and press for June.
I realize I sound like a broken record.
I don't care.
I really will be climbing the walls if I end up laboring for the entire last month like I normally do, breathing through working contractions for weeks on end, waiting for the other shoe to drop at any given moment only to watch that number nine come...and go....with no infant to be found.
Look, you don't want to do that.
I wrote those words and even just writing them, I had a reaction, a bad one.
I can't say in what condition you will find me in when you finally arrive.
I perish the thought.
Okay, enough for tonight.
It was so nice to see you again this evening.
For the last time (I said this once before but really, THAT was the last time) before you're "here."
You're beautiful and I truly get the statement "love at first sight."
I've loved you all along, even before I knew of your creation.
But seeing you like that, your small bitty bits, your mouth opening and closing, your hands touching your face, trying to find your mouth, and your smile....you lit up my heart.
I can't wait to be your Mama.
Officially.
Loving you already,
Mama
Monday, April 26, 2010
Thursday, April 22, 2010
28 Weeks, 5 Days
Something's changed.
In one day, something has majorly changed.
And it does NOT feel good to me!
I noticed it yesterday, on Tuesday.
I woke up, got dressed, started my morning.
What I wore is significant because it fit...and then it didn't.
A white Gap shirt and a plaid button down (one that I searched for for AGES in the stores because I just thought you'd look so bumpishly cute in it), plus my black yoga pants.
I'm still fighting the maternities.
I simply do not want to wear them.
But I have caved slightly.
There's a shopping bag in my closet with seven tank tops and two pairs of pants, all still wrapped in tissue paper.
Why am I battling this so much?
Can't say, really.
But the point here is this: that white shirt and plaid button down fit when I put them on in the morning.
And by the time I went to bed, you were hanging out the bottom of the t-shirt.
More importantly, I can feel the change.
Whereas I was a rather fast waddler, I am now...hobbling.
Slow and lurching.
Not. Sexy.
Don't get me wrong, I'm almost seven and a half months pregnant so my sexy days are sort of on-hold indefinitely but still.
Not. Sexy.
Certainly, you grew.
But I'm hoping that what I'm feeling is a temporary adjustment.
Because, good grief, I can't be approching my wall yet.
I still have possibly 11 weeks left.
So...we need to work this out.
You're hurting me, too.
What are you doing in there?
It feels like you're crawling.
I know I've said that before.
But you're like, BUSY, doing something all the time.
Not necessarily kicking, though you do that too.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were knitting or something, your hands and elbows flying all over the place in constant, repetitive motion.
You're up now.
It's 12:30 and I'm tired.
But you're knitting and I can't sleep when you're doing that.
You've been the first one up the past few mornings, too--waking before the others come storming in.
So I'm awake while you mess around doing whatever it is that you do and then I realize that you're using my bladder as a pillow and I have to go pee and then we're BOTH really up...sigh.
You are predictably woken, too.
A loud noise, a sudden laugh from me, today a whack to the belly with a soccer ball (RHYSE!).
Seconds later, I'll feel your first jerk...and then you go knitting for half an hour.
My contractions have picked up and they hurt.
Nothing scary and regular, just warm-ups that, if they are any indication of how your birth will go, are telling me that I'm in deep crap.
I don't think I'm going to get the whole, "Oh, I sit out on the porch swing and labor, watching the kids chalk draw rainbows on the driveway while I serenely focus on my breathing" type of labor.
I think I'm in deep crap.
I think it's going to go really fast and it's going to be really wickedly painful.
These "warm-ups" are sort of scaring me just a bit.
They make me remember what it feels like.
Pregnancy is weird like that--you tend to forget the pain, the actual feel of the pain, for some reason.
Even the morning sickness that I had, already I'm like, "It wasn't THAT bad, was it?"
Yes.
It was.
It was the most horribly awful thing I've endured long-term and yet...poof!
People ask if I'll have another post-you baby.
Right after that, I swore not.
But then I forget the bad.
And I think of not ever having a newborn again and I go..."Welllll...."
It's sort of the same thing with labor, the forgetting.
Ironically it is NOT that way with a root canal :)
I'm hoping that by this weekend maybe I'll be back to feeling so superb and moving like a human and not a snail.
I don't want to hit that point yet.
It's too early.
IT'S TOO EARLY.
So...find your room, take what you need...and then scoot over.
I can't breathe, your feet PLUS an organ are jammed in my ribs, and now my back hurts all the time.
How's June 25 sounding to you?
July is a whole different set of four letters.
And, dear God, it's a whole three weeks more than June 25.
You'll be full-term.
Think about it.
Loving you already Space Hogger,
Mama
In one day, something has majorly changed.
And it does NOT feel good to me!
I noticed it yesterday, on Tuesday.
I woke up, got dressed, started my morning.
What I wore is significant because it fit...and then it didn't.
A white Gap shirt and a plaid button down (one that I searched for for AGES in the stores because I just thought you'd look so bumpishly cute in it), plus my black yoga pants.
I'm still fighting the maternities.
I simply do not want to wear them.
But I have caved slightly.
There's a shopping bag in my closet with seven tank tops and two pairs of pants, all still wrapped in tissue paper.
Why am I battling this so much?
Can't say, really.
But the point here is this: that white shirt and plaid button down fit when I put them on in the morning.
And by the time I went to bed, you were hanging out the bottom of the t-shirt.
More importantly, I can feel the change.
Whereas I was a rather fast waddler, I am now...hobbling.
Slow and lurching.
Not. Sexy.
Don't get me wrong, I'm almost seven and a half months pregnant so my sexy days are sort of on-hold indefinitely but still.
Not. Sexy.
Certainly, you grew.
But I'm hoping that what I'm feeling is a temporary adjustment.
Because, good grief, I can't be approching my wall yet.
I still have possibly 11 weeks left.
So...we need to work this out.
You're hurting me, too.
What are you doing in there?
It feels like you're crawling.
I know I've said that before.
But you're like, BUSY, doing something all the time.
Not necessarily kicking, though you do that too.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were knitting or something, your hands and elbows flying all over the place in constant, repetitive motion.
You're up now.
It's 12:30 and I'm tired.
But you're knitting and I can't sleep when you're doing that.
You've been the first one up the past few mornings, too--waking before the others come storming in.
So I'm awake while you mess around doing whatever it is that you do and then I realize that you're using my bladder as a pillow and I have to go pee and then we're BOTH really up...sigh.
You are predictably woken, too.
A loud noise, a sudden laugh from me, today a whack to the belly with a soccer ball (RHYSE!).
Seconds later, I'll feel your first jerk...and then you go knitting for half an hour.
My contractions have picked up and they hurt.
Nothing scary and regular, just warm-ups that, if they are any indication of how your birth will go, are telling me that I'm in deep crap.
I don't think I'm going to get the whole, "Oh, I sit out on the porch swing and labor, watching the kids chalk draw rainbows on the driveway while I serenely focus on my breathing" type of labor.
I think I'm in deep crap.
I think it's going to go really fast and it's going to be really wickedly painful.
These "warm-ups" are sort of scaring me just a bit.
They make me remember what it feels like.
Pregnancy is weird like that--you tend to forget the pain, the actual feel of the pain, for some reason.
Even the morning sickness that I had, already I'm like, "It wasn't THAT bad, was it?"
Yes.
It was.
It was the most horribly awful thing I've endured long-term and yet...poof!
People ask if I'll have another post-you baby.
Right after that, I swore not.
But then I forget the bad.
And I think of not ever having a newborn again and I go..."Welllll...."
It's sort of the same thing with labor, the forgetting.
Ironically it is NOT that way with a root canal :)
I'm hoping that by this weekend maybe I'll be back to feeling so superb and moving like a human and not a snail.
I don't want to hit that point yet.
It's too early.
IT'S TOO EARLY.
So...find your room, take what you need...and then scoot over.
I can't breathe, your feet PLUS an organ are jammed in my ribs, and now my back hurts all the time.
How's June 25 sounding to you?
July is a whole different set of four letters.
And, dear God, it's a whole three weeks more than June 25.
You'll be full-term.
Think about it.
Loving you already Space Hogger,
Mama
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
27 Weeks, 4 Days
I am the model patient.
I swear, that's what they told me.
"They" being our midwives.
That certainly felt good to hear, especially after they picked through my diet with a fine-toothed comb.
I've been handed homework (actually I MISSED turning in this homework from a month ago so really, I am not quite the model patient they believe me to be :))--a week's worth of food diarying.
Yeesh.
I eat well and all but it's still weird to hand over such...intimate...information!
(It doesn't sound intimate but I assure you, it is when it's being scrutinized.)
My only trip-up is my darn coffee consumption.
I have two a day--one in the morning and one in the evening.
They initially asked me to cut back, slowly to one and then to none.
So I wouldn't have a "jittery baby" come July.
I scowled, I couldn't help myself.
I love my coffees and really, I am quite conscientious about what else I am consuming so as not to add any more "junk" into my daily diet.
"But we don't want YOU to be jittery either so...just do the best you can," Abby told me.
I assured them that I would not be jittery.
I would be asleep.
I can not function without a hit of caffeine.
My days are too long and hard and...long and hard.
I didn't have any caffeine with you until about month five as you simply would not allow it, even if it were the only beverage in all the land.
But as I started to return to myself, I picked that up again just a bit.
And I don't always have an entire cup and I almost always drink about a gallon of water after each time I do in the attempt to dilute and quickly flush it from my body.
(Look at me justifying!)
But in the end, after asking me what else I drink in a day's time, I was given a pass.
"What else do you drink?" Abby asked me.
"Water."
"Anything else?"
"Just water."
"Any colas? Diet drinks? Carbonated anythings?"
"Nope. Just...water."
Pause.
"Okay then, I feel comfortable with your coffee."
Whew. THAT was a close one.
Everything looks great with both of us!
You're somewhere around two and half pounds at this point (pork chop!) and measured big this time!
At my visit, I was about 26 weeks and 5 days and you clocked in with a 28 week measurement.
The month before you'd been just a smidge small so you had a terrific growth spurt in those four weeks!
We will be seeing you again after all, and considering my last post, I'm a bit nervous about this one.
Previously discussed had been the issue of my retained placentas after delivery and so they're just wanting to get a peek at where it is right now and so I'll need another ultrasound next week.
If it's grown into scar tissue, it could be problematic for me. (Read: extremely painful.)
But I also had a bad bleeding issue with Greer during the onset of labor that, honestly, I never batted an eye at until reviewing my labor in full detail with the midwives earlier in this pregnancy.
Like I tend to do, I awoke with a start in bed at around 4:30-5:00 in the morning and was in full-on, hard-core labor.
And I was bleeding which was a new thing for me but I was REALLY in labor, far worse than I'd ever been before at home before heading to the hospital and I just chalked it up to...full-on, hard-core labor.
But it turns out that really, truly bleeding like I was might not actually be a totally normal thing (I swear, I was in so much pain, it barely registered though I do remember it and in hindsight sort of wonder why I blew it off so quickly) and could also signal a potential problem with where my placentas tend to lie.
I'm really excited to see you again though.
Nervous because of that gender dream but really excited to maybe get another glimpse of what you look like these days.
I feel...magnificent.
I definitely feel some of the late pregnancy aches and pains (my back is really starting to hurt from over-compensating for my big belly) and other than the usual "I'm tired" stuff--I really feel great.
We're just days away from our seventh month together and I've officially started my third and final trimester.
The time is flying and each day that I feel this wonderful, I feel very grateful for.
You are all over the place these days which is unbelievably cute.
You're awake a lot and for long periods of time (at night, I can see the sheets jump as you shift and kick--it's quite amusing, really) but you also sleep deeply a lot and for long periods of time.
You seem to wake when we all do in the morning, even if I'm not up yet but if/when my bed starts filling up with children who would like me to be up.
You're just one of that gang in there!
There's far less kicking (though you do sneak in some good ones now and again) and far, far more...crawling, churning, turning, shifting, twisting.
You like to lie on your left side, upside down; I can feel your tiny bottom and I get lots of little-foot action on the right side of my own body.
When you do kick, it's in a series--almost never just once now.
I remember those first few times I felt you, how I'd have to lie super still and there'd be just one quick, tiny tap and then...you were gone.
Now if you're in a kicking mood, it'll be ten minutes of pounding while I lay in bed staring at the ceiling wondering when you'll get tired and fall back asleep :)
(And that's not a complaint--I'm totally giggling while I'm staring at the ceiling and am usually poking back at you. Unless I'm really tired. Then I just wait because there's nothing else I can do. Am trapped, I tell you.)
Oddly enough, I have pinned down my birth sheet set which I rummaged up from the back of the linen closet this week.
I need a set to have on the bed, a set that I obviously do not care if they look as if they've been at a murder scene and then another set that the midwives will change for me while I shower (if they can wrangle you from my arms--I am LOATHE to part with my newborns, even FOR a shower) so I can get back into a clean bed with you right away.
It's sort of strange as this stuff starts to become a little bit more real for me.
(We touched on my "Birth Kit" a bit at this appointment so I could start preparing.)
Let me be clear on this point: I am scared.
Oh yes, I am definitely reconsidering the wiseness of this choice and it has everything to do with my fear of pain and nothing to do with anything else.
It does not matter (for me) how many times I've "done this" because it hurts and hurts bad every single time.
If I can rise above that fear and the pain, then I think this will be the most amazing experience.
If I can't, then I think I'm going to be in big, big trouble.
So we're just going to go with the "I can" route until I notify myself that "Whoops! Misjudged that one!" and by that time, it will be too late anyway.
But maybe I can convince someone to knock me out and put me (and everyone) out of my misery.
I'm quite convincing when I want to be :)
You're asking for an apple and some peanut butter which is just terrific as it's like midnight and all I want to do is sleep but it seems that I'll be slicing a darn apple up instead.
Oh well.
Could be worse, right?
Like you could want, say, a Twinkie.
Which sadly sounds amazingly tempting suddenly.
I better go make that apple before I end up sending you-know-who on a midnight crack food run.
Loving you already,
Mama
I swear, that's what they told me.
"They" being our midwives.
That certainly felt good to hear, especially after they picked through my diet with a fine-toothed comb.
I've been handed homework (actually I MISSED turning in this homework from a month ago so really, I am not quite the model patient they believe me to be :))--a week's worth of food diarying.
Yeesh.
I eat well and all but it's still weird to hand over such...intimate...information!
(It doesn't sound intimate but I assure you, it is when it's being scrutinized.)
My only trip-up is my darn coffee consumption.
I have two a day--one in the morning and one in the evening.
They initially asked me to cut back, slowly to one and then to none.
So I wouldn't have a "jittery baby" come July.
I scowled, I couldn't help myself.
I love my coffees and really, I am quite conscientious about what else I am consuming so as not to add any more "junk" into my daily diet.
"But we don't want YOU to be jittery either so...just do the best you can," Abby told me.
I assured them that I would not be jittery.
I would be asleep.
I can not function without a hit of caffeine.
My days are too long and hard and...long and hard.
I didn't have any caffeine with you until about month five as you simply would not allow it, even if it were the only beverage in all the land.
But as I started to return to myself, I picked that up again just a bit.
And I don't always have an entire cup and I almost always drink about a gallon of water after each time I do in the attempt to dilute and quickly flush it from my body.
(Look at me justifying!)
But in the end, after asking me what else I drink in a day's time, I was given a pass.
"What else do you drink?" Abby asked me.
"Water."
"Anything else?"
"Just water."
"Any colas? Diet drinks? Carbonated anythings?"
"Nope. Just...water."
Pause.
"Okay then, I feel comfortable with your coffee."
Whew. THAT was a close one.
Everything looks great with both of us!
You're somewhere around two and half pounds at this point (pork chop!) and measured big this time!
At my visit, I was about 26 weeks and 5 days and you clocked in with a 28 week measurement.
The month before you'd been just a smidge small so you had a terrific growth spurt in those four weeks!
We will be seeing you again after all, and considering my last post, I'm a bit nervous about this one.
Previously discussed had been the issue of my retained placentas after delivery and so they're just wanting to get a peek at where it is right now and so I'll need another ultrasound next week.
If it's grown into scar tissue, it could be problematic for me. (Read: extremely painful.)
But I also had a bad bleeding issue with Greer during the onset of labor that, honestly, I never batted an eye at until reviewing my labor in full detail with the midwives earlier in this pregnancy.
Like I tend to do, I awoke with a start in bed at around 4:30-5:00 in the morning and was in full-on, hard-core labor.
And I was bleeding which was a new thing for me but I was REALLY in labor, far worse than I'd ever been before at home before heading to the hospital and I just chalked it up to...full-on, hard-core labor.
But it turns out that really, truly bleeding like I was might not actually be a totally normal thing (I swear, I was in so much pain, it barely registered though I do remember it and in hindsight sort of wonder why I blew it off so quickly) and could also signal a potential problem with where my placentas tend to lie.
I'm really excited to see you again though.
Nervous because of that gender dream but really excited to maybe get another glimpse of what you look like these days.
I feel...magnificent.
I definitely feel some of the late pregnancy aches and pains (my back is really starting to hurt from over-compensating for my big belly) and other than the usual "I'm tired" stuff--I really feel great.
We're just days away from our seventh month together and I've officially started my third and final trimester.
The time is flying and each day that I feel this wonderful, I feel very grateful for.
You are all over the place these days which is unbelievably cute.
You're awake a lot and for long periods of time (at night, I can see the sheets jump as you shift and kick--it's quite amusing, really) but you also sleep deeply a lot and for long periods of time.
You seem to wake when we all do in the morning, even if I'm not up yet but if/when my bed starts filling up with children who would like me to be up.
You're just one of that gang in there!
There's far less kicking (though you do sneak in some good ones now and again) and far, far more...crawling, churning, turning, shifting, twisting.
You like to lie on your left side, upside down; I can feel your tiny bottom and I get lots of little-foot action on the right side of my own body.
When you do kick, it's in a series--almost never just once now.
I remember those first few times I felt you, how I'd have to lie super still and there'd be just one quick, tiny tap and then...you were gone.
Now if you're in a kicking mood, it'll be ten minutes of pounding while I lay in bed staring at the ceiling wondering when you'll get tired and fall back asleep :)
(And that's not a complaint--I'm totally giggling while I'm staring at the ceiling and am usually poking back at you. Unless I'm really tired. Then I just wait because there's nothing else I can do. Am trapped, I tell you.)
Oddly enough, I have pinned down my birth sheet set which I rummaged up from the back of the linen closet this week.
I need a set to have on the bed, a set that I obviously do not care if they look as if they've been at a murder scene and then another set that the midwives will change for me while I shower (if they can wrangle you from my arms--I am LOATHE to part with my newborns, even FOR a shower) so I can get back into a clean bed with you right away.
It's sort of strange as this stuff starts to become a little bit more real for me.
(We touched on my "Birth Kit" a bit at this appointment so I could start preparing.)
Let me be clear on this point: I am scared.
Oh yes, I am definitely reconsidering the wiseness of this choice and it has everything to do with my fear of pain and nothing to do with anything else.
It does not matter (for me) how many times I've "done this" because it hurts and hurts bad every single time.
If I can rise above that fear and the pain, then I think this will be the most amazing experience.
If I can't, then I think I'm going to be in big, big trouble.
So we're just going to go with the "I can" route until I notify myself that "Whoops! Misjudged that one!" and by that time, it will be too late anyway.
But maybe I can convince someone to knock me out and put me (and everyone) out of my misery.
I'm quite convincing when I want to be :)
You're asking for an apple and some peanut butter which is just terrific as it's like midnight and all I want to do is sleep but it seems that I'll be slicing a darn apple up instead.
Oh well.
Could be worse, right?
Like you could want, say, a Twinkie.
Which sadly sounds amazingly tempting suddenly.
I better go make that apple before I end up sending you-know-who on a midnight crack food run.
Loving you already,
Mama
Monday, April 5, 2010
26 Weeks, 3 Days
I had the most vivid dream about you last week.
I meant to jump on here and record it immediately but I didn't though it doesn't matter.
I still remember it so clearly.
We had gone in for another ultrasound, one last little peek at you.
And I was laying there, while they were taking pictures and I was so excited to see you again.
You were much bigger than you were just six weeks ago when we saw you last and this time, you weren't shy.
Though the techs knew that we didn't want to know your gender, there was an accident.
Or in my dream, I think I thought it was almost intentional.
I'm not really sure why; maybe because we'd been so adamant about NOT knowing who you were that I couldn't believe that someone made such an incredible mistake.
These ultrasound photos that they took, they tossed up onto an illuminated box, exactly how they would do it in order to read an x-ray.
The whole of you lit up immediately and I could see your face so clearly (you looked identical to the one good photo we were able to get in our last real ultrasound session where you looked just like Chas) and just as I was sitting up and exclaiming with delight, my eyes trailed downward and there, before the world, you presented your gender.
As plain as day.
You were a girl.
And I was so completely thrown, excited and PISSED--I remember my stomach dropping at the sight of your girly bits and my sheer joy to be expecting another daughter but I also was throwing a major fit because (and this is what I kept saying), "I wanted that surprise!"
I wanted that surprise in the moment, the realization of your gender, and though I'll love you either way, I think I'd be truly tickled for another girl.
Let me explain because that might sound bad.
I don't want you to think I prefer one gender over another.
I don't.
I do not.
I once thought I did, I really wanted Chas to be a girl because I have NO boys on my side of the family--I didn't grow up with any brothers or even a father around so his maleness was totally foreign to me.
But that changed instantly (of course it did, the second I held him--he could have been an alien, I was that smitten) and it's been the same for me ever since.
I rather like having all these boys.
But I sure am glad to have my Greer.
Take for example, what happened yesterday, which actually sparked a gender conversation between your dad and I.
Memaw had taken Chas, Rhyse and Greer out for the afternoon to give us some time to prepare dinner and to get ready for our Easter egg hunt.
They'd been gone for awhile when the phone rang.
My caller ID said it was Chas so I picked up quickly.
"Hi!"
"Hi. Is Dad there? Can I talk to Dad?"
(Pause)
"Um, yes, he's here." (Pause) "Is everything ok?"
I thought maybe something was wrong and he didn't want to tell me first because he knew I'd freak out.
Oh, how wrong I was!
"No, nothing's wrong. I got new roller blades and I wanted to tell him."
(Pause.)
(Pause.)
(Pause.)
"Oh! Oh, wow, ok. Hold on, I'll get him."
Those pauses?
That was me processing the fact that I am not necessarily the preferred parent anymore for my oldest boy.
It's a given that through childhood, Mama is just...well, just about everything.
The sun rises and sets with Mama.
At least in this house, that's the way it is; the way it's always been.
But his call startled me in a way that I didn't much like.
He wasn't calling to share his news with ME, he was calling to share it with his dad.
And I don't mean to make it sound like I don't appreciate that relationship between them; oh, how I do.
I love that they grow closer as the years go by.
But I felt...left out.
I came downstairs a little while later and lamented to your daddy.
"This family needs some balance because you have ALL THESE BOYS and they're going to grow up and be your best friends--you'll all be hanging out in the basement drinking beer and playing pool while I drive Greer nuts because she's my only daughter and the only one I can truly relate to in this family full of MEN!"
"No, you won't," he said, which started to sound sweet until he added, "because Greer will be down there drinking beer and playing pool with us!"
Over. My. Dead. Body.
She will be shopping and mani/pedi'ing it with me or else I will go off my ROCKER.
I need some girl in this family.
And so, there you have it.
If you're a boy, welcome to the damn party, son. You've come to the right place.
And if you are a girl, thank you, thank you, thank you for even-ing things up a bit around here!
One thing's for sure, whoever you are, you are growing by leaps and bounds every week it seems!
Luckily, I still feel terrific and I'm hoping to ride this wave of wonderfulness for as long as I possibly can because once it starts to go downhill, it won't come back up again until you arrive.
I remember my "point" with Creux was at 32 weeks.
It was downhill from there and it was a looooong way to week 39 (and 5 days).
But you don't seem as big as he was, even now (though I may eat those words at 32 weeks when I'm convinced that I'm ready to deliver you from all the pressure and aches and pains) and you are definitely more relaxed.
(PLEASE don't make me eat those words!)
Somehow a whole month has passed and it's time for our midwives appointment tomorrow!
I'm looking forward to the visit--I always am.
Though I think...the next time I come, I will be THIRTY WEEKS.
Wow!
Just one more month and we'll truly be in the homestretch, with you able to safely arrive just seven weeks after that point.
Maybe that sounds long but a week passes in a blip for me.
Especially right now, with our lives as busy as they are.
I feel like I'm in some wicked spin cycle and I'm going to be dumped out at the end of May, when school ends, when soccer stops, when summer officially begins.
That's really scary to me because I feel like I do actually have a lot I need to take care of before you arrive and right now, I barely have time to shower.
We still have a major renovation to do with my bedroom and a big vacation looming, plus our weekends have been sucked up by sporting obligations which leaves...June.
Exactly where I DIDN'T want to find time for your stuff.
I wanted to be done by June.
I don't think it's going to happen but...we'll see.
I guess so long as we're ready by early July, it'll be fine in the end.
I need to make some firm decisions in the next little while...your name (am pretty solid on your Maybe Girl, am waffling on your Maybe Boy), to circ or not circ (nothing like a SMALL detail like that to chew on), I need to choose your diapers (am I going cloth?--maybe), buy you something sweet and cozy for your first night here, decide on my sling, etc. etc. etc.
Just...stuff.
Stuff that's cluttering my head and making me feel like I'm starting to run behind schedule.
I'm not--not yet but I'm starting to toe the line if I want to relax in June.
And I really want to relax in June.
I'm carrying you very high which isn't unusual and not significant of anything except that's how you babies fit in my body. Some people look and say, "boy" or "girl" but it's never seems to make a difference to my body.
At the end of the day, I'm starting to feel a lot of pressure on my pelvic floor and at times I can feel you turning your head.
It almost tickle hurts.
That's the best way I can describe it.
You're still tapping away in there and surprisingly, I'm not terribly uncomfortable right now.
I'm slower for sure, have perfected the waddle, can barely get up off the floor without pulling down a bookcase in order to help me up, and would really, really, really like to not gain another ounce but other than all that....I feel amazing :)
Thanks for being so good to me.
It almost makes up for how much I wanted to die back in weeks 7-13 :)
(I said almost. You are not totally off the hook yet for that stunt. I'm banking on the whole Chill Baby thing and then you'll be cleared of all wrong-doing. I will not delete the entries just so you know how miserable I was and that should translate to how much I love you but I will not hold it over your head.
For too long ;))
Loving you already,
Mama
I meant to jump on here and record it immediately but I didn't though it doesn't matter.
I still remember it so clearly.
We had gone in for another ultrasound, one last little peek at you.
And I was laying there, while they were taking pictures and I was so excited to see you again.
You were much bigger than you were just six weeks ago when we saw you last and this time, you weren't shy.
Though the techs knew that we didn't want to know your gender, there was an accident.
Or in my dream, I think I thought it was almost intentional.
I'm not really sure why; maybe because we'd been so adamant about NOT knowing who you were that I couldn't believe that someone made such an incredible mistake.
These ultrasound photos that they took, they tossed up onto an illuminated box, exactly how they would do it in order to read an x-ray.
The whole of you lit up immediately and I could see your face so clearly (you looked identical to the one good photo we were able to get in our last real ultrasound session where you looked just like Chas) and just as I was sitting up and exclaiming with delight, my eyes trailed downward and there, before the world, you presented your gender.
As plain as day.
You were a girl.
And I was so completely thrown, excited and PISSED--I remember my stomach dropping at the sight of your girly bits and my sheer joy to be expecting another daughter but I also was throwing a major fit because (and this is what I kept saying), "I wanted that surprise!"
I wanted that surprise in the moment, the realization of your gender, and though I'll love you either way, I think I'd be truly tickled for another girl.
Let me explain because that might sound bad.
I don't want you to think I prefer one gender over another.
I don't.
I do not.
I once thought I did, I really wanted Chas to be a girl because I have NO boys on my side of the family--I didn't grow up with any brothers or even a father around so his maleness was totally foreign to me.
But that changed instantly (of course it did, the second I held him--he could have been an alien, I was that smitten) and it's been the same for me ever since.
I rather like having all these boys.
But I sure am glad to have my Greer.
Take for example, what happened yesterday, which actually sparked a gender conversation between your dad and I.
Memaw had taken Chas, Rhyse and Greer out for the afternoon to give us some time to prepare dinner and to get ready for our Easter egg hunt.
They'd been gone for awhile when the phone rang.
My caller ID said it was Chas so I picked up quickly.
"Hi!"
"Hi. Is Dad there? Can I talk to Dad?"
(Pause)
"Um, yes, he's here." (Pause) "Is everything ok?"
I thought maybe something was wrong and he didn't want to tell me first because he knew I'd freak out.
Oh, how wrong I was!
"No, nothing's wrong. I got new roller blades and I wanted to tell him."
(Pause.)
(Pause.)
(Pause.)
"Oh! Oh, wow, ok. Hold on, I'll get him."
Those pauses?
That was me processing the fact that I am not necessarily the preferred parent anymore for my oldest boy.
It's a given that through childhood, Mama is just...well, just about everything.
The sun rises and sets with Mama.
At least in this house, that's the way it is; the way it's always been.
But his call startled me in a way that I didn't much like.
He wasn't calling to share his news with ME, he was calling to share it with his dad.
And I don't mean to make it sound like I don't appreciate that relationship between them; oh, how I do.
I love that they grow closer as the years go by.
But I felt...left out.
I came downstairs a little while later and lamented to your daddy.
"This family needs some balance because you have ALL THESE BOYS and they're going to grow up and be your best friends--you'll all be hanging out in the basement drinking beer and playing pool while I drive Greer nuts because she's my only daughter and the only one I can truly relate to in this family full of MEN!"
"No, you won't," he said, which started to sound sweet until he added, "because Greer will be down there drinking beer and playing pool with us!"
Over. My. Dead. Body.
She will be shopping and mani/pedi'ing it with me or else I will go off my ROCKER.
I need some girl in this family.
And so, there you have it.
If you're a boy, welcome to the damn party, son. You've come to the right place.
And if you are a girl, thank you, thank you, thank you for even-ing things up a bit around here!
One thing's for sure, whoever you are, you are growing by leaps and bounds every week it seems!
Luckily, I still feel terrific and I'm hoping to ride this wave of wonderfulness for as long as I possibly can because once it starts to go downhill, it won't come back up again until you arrive.
I remember my "point" with Creux was at 32 weeks.
It was downhill from there and it was a looooong way to week 39 (and 5 days).
But you don't seem as big as he was, even now (though I may eat those words at 32 weeks when I'm convinced that I'm ready to deliver you from all the pressure and aches and pains) and you are definitely more relaxed.
(PLEASE don't make me eat those words!)
Somehow a whole month has passed and it's time for our midwives appointment tomorrow!
I'm looking forward to the visit--I always am.
Though I think...the next time I come, I will be THIRTY WEEKS.
Wow!
Just one more month and we'll truly be in the homestretch, with you able to safely arrive just seven weeks after that point.
Maybe that sounds long but a week passes in a blip for me.
Especially right now, with our lives as busy as they are.
I feel like I'm in some wicked spin cycle and I'm going to be dumped out at the end of May, when school ends, when soccer stops, when summer officially begins.
That's really scary to me because I feel like I do actually have a lot I need to take care of before you arrive and right now, I barely have time to shower.
We still have a major renovation to do with my bedroom and a big vacation looming, plus our weekends have been sucked up by sporting obligations which leaves...June.
Exactly where I DIDN'T want to find time for your stuff.
I wanted to be done by June.
I don't think it's going to happen but...we'll see.
I guess so long as we're ready by early July, it'll be fine in the end.
I need to make some firm decisions in the next little while...your name (am pretty solid on your Maybe Girl, am waffling on your Maybe Boy), to circ or not circ (nothing like a SMALL detail like that to chew on), I need to choose your diapers (am I going cloth?--maybe), buy you something sweet and cozy for your first night here, decide on my sling, etc. etc. etc.
Just...stuff.
Stuff that's cluttering my head and making me feel like I'm starting to run behind schedule.
I'm not--not yet but I'm starting to toe the line if I want to relax in June.
And I really want to relax in June.
I'm carrying you very high which isn't unusual and not significant of anything except that's how you babies fit in my body. Some people look and say, "boy" or "girl" but it's never seems to make a difference to my body.
At the end of the day, I'm starting to feel a lot of pressure on my pelvic floor and at times I can feel you turning your head.
It almost tickle hurts.
That's the best way I can describe it.
You're still tapping away in there and surprisingly, I'm not terribly uncomfortable right now.
I'm slower for sure, have perfected the waddle, can barely get up off the floor without pulling down a bookcase in order to help me up, and would really, really, really like to not gain another ounce but other than all that....I feel amazing :)
Thanks for being so good to me.
It almost makes up for how much I wanted to die back in weeks 7-13 :)
(I said almost. You are not totally off the hook yet for that stunt. I'm banking on the whole Chill Baby thing and then you'll be cleared of all wrong-doing. I will not delete the entries just so you know how miserable I was and that should translate to how much I love you but I will not hold it over your head.
For too long ;))
Loving you already,
Mama
Monday, March 29, 2010
25 Weeks, 3 Days
I really hate when a whole week goes by without my recording something for you.
It's just that I know when I hop on here that I need a decent chunk of time and so...I guess I struggle to find that!
We've been on a roller coaster, you and I.
Well, not literally, more figuratively.
I'll tell you about that in a second but first let me rave for a bit.
You are being a very good little baby! I'm back to thinking you are a girl because you really are actually quite accomodating and somewhat seem to be attempting to split the space with me 50/50. You may be a boy, clearly I don't have a clue since I keep flipping back and forth, but so far you seem...manageable :)
It's early days still, though.
Because you aren't trying to body slam your way out of my belly just gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, you're my Chill Baby, gender unimportant.
(Please?)
My wardrobe is dwindling.
Other than the few new things I bought for you the other week, I'm packing my regular clothes away with surprising frequency. I like things in basics--basic cuts and basic colors and two days ago, I pulled on one of my favorite basic black, fitted t-shirts from Gap and you stuck out the bottom all day long, like the pregnant woman's almost-socially-appropriate version of the tacky "plumber's crack."
Anyway, how I didn't notice that when I initially pulled it on, I can't quite explain.
But all day long, I was tugging my shirt down over the growing orb that is my tummy.
Or that is YOU in my tummy.
You're very cute and round, the World's Most Perfect Ball of Love.
I can definitely feel your bits these days, as you'll poke them out and sort of let them stick there for a few seconds--long enough for me to gently squeeze an elbow or whatever it is.
And then you yank it away.
Where's your sense of fun, child?
You completely re-arrange my internal organs (to say NOTHING of what you've done to my back-end) and made me a wee bit crazy (under.statement.) and I can't even pinch an elbow???
I'm happy to report that upping the protein in my diet actually seems to have totally worked in the sweets craving department!
Who knew?
I would never connect something so...meat-sounding..to something so...tasty.
But I've made an effort to have a bit of protein at lunch, a bit at snack time (apples with peanut butter are my WEAKNESS right now), and some at dinner at least three times a week.
So far, so good.
But I do kind of miss those desserts...
As far as the water consumption thing, look, I'm doing my best.
A gallon is just ridiculous, I would slosh as I walked, truly I would.
Let's just say that I'm drinking far more than I normally do and honestly, I don't think it's making a ton of a difference.
Even sitting here writing you, my fingers feel somewhat swollen.
Granted, it's the end of the day and sometimes that's just the way the end of the day treats me.
So here's the roller coastery part--
I need to apologize to you most sincerely because I feel like I've not been so great at making sure you're in your best place lately.
I know I haven't because you've definitely let me know when you're not good.
And this weekend, you were NOT good.
I learned recently that I'd be on my own for a few days with your siblings--something had come up for Daddy that he felt he needed to attend to but it would take him far from home for a bit.
Though I understood the reason, I didn't want him to go.
And I voiced this heartily.
Many times.
But it was the right thing for him to do, to take care of this situation and as much as I hated it, I knew he needed to go.
I was just upset that it would cause such upheaval at home.
And I was terrified at the prospect of managing your four siblings, their schooling and sporting functions, the house, the dog, you, and Creux all by myself.
It was a daunting proposition for me and, as much as I wanted to be completely supportive of his decision to go, I knew what I was up against.
And it basically boiled down to this: there are days, and sometimes it's almost every right now, that I can't wait for another adult to walk into this house and help me out.
Those really bad days with Creux--which are temporary as he works through his two's--are really rough by the end.
And sometimes, I'm really, really tired, just from doing my portion of the family stuff.
Knowing that I was picking up his portion too (Daddy does a lot around here in a day--is usually the breakfast starter, gets Greer off to preschool, MAKES DINNER, helps with bedtimes) was completely over-whelming to me.
So I did what I seem to be doing a lot right now in the face of stress and I completely and totally melted down.
Not only were my emotions raging but we spent the whole weekend preparing for his leave.
In order to simplify my life while he was gone, we needed stuff.
We needed a ton of groceries.
We needed to finish Easter shopping.
We needed to do this, we needed to do that.
We spent the whole day on Saturday running around.
And by Saturday night, you were in a state.
I took a shower and laid down but I couldn't sleep because you were going absolutely nuts, for a longer period of time than you'd ever seemed to be up for before.
It didn't escape my notice--but I did eventually drift off, only to wake up with some contractions.
I got up to get a glass of water, hoping that would settle things down a bit (this usually works) but it didn't.
Every ten minutes or so, I'd get another contraction and I started freaking out a little bit.
What if I'd started my own labor by my diva-ish antics?
It's far, far too early for you to even threaten an appearance, and though I knew that what I was feeling was probably just a result of way too much stress for one day, I was scared.
Before returning to bed, I used the potty and noticed that I was spotting just a bit.
Combined with the contractions, it frightened me beyond reason.
I didn't really think I was in labor; I truly believed that my body was just, in no uncertain terms, telling me that enough was enough was enough.
So I kept checking back but the spotting was only that once and though the contractions were still noticable, they were relenting a bit.
But I laid there thinking, this is so stupid.
I can't get myself so worked up, I can't spend the day just running errands for hours on end, only to then face a marathon single parenting session which is stressful beyond belief on its own and for which I need sanity, patience, and rest.
What I feared most was that I was mis-judging the situation and that I'd, thinking that the spotting and the contractions were just an after-effect of my stressful day, completely miss the signs of true premature labor.
What if, I wondered, I just went to sleep with these mild contractions and then woke up at 4am like I have in the past with some of your siblings, in hard, fast labor?
You would not survive an accidental birth here at home.
You would hopefully be alright in a hospital setting but if I didn't have time to get there, we'd be in real trouble.
So...I need to make a conscious effort to not be a stressed-out lunatic for your sake because it definitely impacts you enough to make me sit up and notice.
I spent so much time worrying about how I would handle the kids here at home all on my own that I didn't do anything to make sure that we, you and I, were okay.
If I weren't pregnant with you, his leaving would be an irritant but only due to the lack of help.
(He is not, for the record, out having fun in Vegas. He is not out having fun anywhere. He is simply... needed. And if someone needs him more than I do, than you know how important it was for him to go.)
Four kids is a lot of work with help, but adding in my own pregnancy-induced fatigue and limited reserves of
SuperMommy juice, well, thinking about all that needs done in a day without any extra hands or kind words (when I've run out of my own)...it just pushed me over the edge.
I suppose we compromised somewhere in there.
He moved mountains (literally) to be gone for just over a day and a half.
That felt tremendously more manageable to me and my relief was probably palpable to you.
It's also sort of highlighted an issue that's been lingering around for a bit and it's this:
We're not a normal family and we can't behave like one.
By "normal" I mean, due to our family size, it's imperative that we do what works best for us and to let the rest of it go.
(Doing this usually makes us (me) rather unpopular with family because in every family, there are expectations and I'm much more likely to buck those than Daddy is. When I see needs conflicting, I'm more apt to choose what's better for you kids rather than making sure everyone else is happy.
That makes me Not. Popular.)
Whereas when we had a smaller amount of children, we could be more flexible as a family.
But now, maybe we really kind of can't.
Anyway, though it was scary, it was a terrific reminder to me that just because I am, in general, feeling really good right now, I'm still very responsible for your, and my, well-being--along with the rest of this household.
Just as I make sure to change my diet to better suit your needs, I need to change my stress management as well.
Unfortunately, I seem to suffer from those hallmark-of-pregancy mood swings.
I need things to be rather...copacetic right now.
I need my boat to not be rocked, I need your brother to take a toddler-sized dose of a chill pill, I need NOT to be single parenting at this precise moment in time.
But that's life, sweet stuff :)
It has become abundantly clear to me that, after all of these years of thinking other-wise, the world does, in fact, NOT revolve around me.
Shocking and sad but true.
Harumph.
(That was a joke. I sure hope my sense of humor translates well because if not you're going to think I'm one seriously crazy piece of work.)
I'm off to kick back and relax now and I promise to not get you all worked up like that again.
At least until the weekend ;)
Loving you already,
Mama (who is so very, very glad that you are still as snug as could be in her incubator)
It's just that I know when I hop on here that I need a decent chunk of time and so...I guess I struggle to find that!
We've been on a roller coaster, you and I.
Well, not literally, more figuratively.
I'll tell you about that in a second but first let me rave for a bit.
You are being a very good little baby! I'm back to thinking you are a girl because you really are actually quite accomodating and somewhat seem to be attempting to split the space with me 50/50. You may be a boy, clearly I don't have a clue since I keep flipping back and forth, but so far you seem...manageable :)
It's early days still, though.
Because you aren't trying to body slam your way out of my belly just gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, you're my Chill Baby, gender unimportant.
(Please?)
My wardrobe is dwindling.
Other than the few new things I bought for you the other week, I'm packing my regular clothes away with surprising frequency. I like things in basics--basic cuts and basic colors and two days ago, I pulled on one of my favorite basic black, fitted t-shirts from Gap and you stuck out the bottom all day long, like the pregnant woman's almost-socially-appropriate version of the tacky "plumber's crack."
Anyway, how I didn't notice that when I initially pulled it on, I can't quite explain.
But all day long, I was tugging my shirt down over the growing orb that is my tummy.
Or that is YOU in my tummy.
You're very cute and round, the World's Most Perfect Ball of Love.
I can definitely feel your bits these days, as you'll poke them out and sort of let them stick there for a few seconds--long enough for me to gently squeeze an elbow or whatever it is.
And then you yank it away.
Where's your sense of fun, child?
You completely re-arrange my internal organs (to say NOTHING of what you've done to my back-end) and made me a wee bit crazy (under.statement.) and I can't even pinch an elbow???
I'm happy to report that upping the protein in my diet actually seems to have totally worked in the sweets craving department!
Who knew?
I would never connect something so...meat-sounding..to something so...tasty.
But I've made an effort to have a bit of protein at lunch, a bit at snack time (apples with peanut butter are my WEAKNESS right now), and some at dinner at least three times a week.
So far, so good.
But I do kind of miss those desserts...
As far as the water consumption thing, look, I'm doing my best.
A gallon is just ridiculous, I would slosh as I walked, truly I would.
Let's just say that I'm drinking far more than I normally do and honestly, I don't think it's making a ton of a difference.
Even sitting here writing you, my fingers feel somewhat swollen.
Granted, it's the end of the day and sometimes that's just the way the end of the day treats me.
So here's the roller coastery part--
I need to apologize to you most sincerely because I feel like I've not been so great at making sure you're in your best place lately.
I know I haven't because you've definitely let me know when you're not good.
And this weekend, you were NOT good.
I learned recently that I'd be on my own for a few days with your siblings--something had come up for Daddy that he felt he needed to attend to but it would take him far from home for a bit.
Though I understood the reason, I didn't want him to go.
And I voiced this heartily.
Many times.
But it was the right thing for him to do, to take care of this situation and as much as I hated it, I knew he needed to go.
I was just upset that it would cause such upheaval at home.
And I was terrified at the prospect of managing your four siblings, their schooling and sporting functions, the house, the dog, you, and Creux all by myself.
It was a daunting proposition for me and, as much as I wanted to be completely supportive of his decision to go, I knew what I was up against.
And it basically boiled down to this: there are days, and sometimes it's almost every right now, that I can't wait for another adult to walk into this house and help me out.
Those really bad days with Creux--which are temporary as he works through his two's--are really rough by the end.
And sometimes, I'm really, really tired, just from doing my portion of the family stuff.
Knowing that I was picking up his portion too (Daddy does a lot around here in a day--is usually the breakfast starter, gets Greer off to preschool, MAKES DINNER, helps with bedtimes) was completely over-whelming to me.
So I did what I seem to be doing a lot right now in the face of stress and I completely and totally melted down.
Not only were my emotions raging but we spent the whole weekend preparing for his leave.
In order to simplify my life while he was gone, we needed stuff.
We needed a ton of groceries.
We needed to finish Easter shopping.
We needed to do this, we needed to do that.
We spent the whole day on Saturday running around.
And by Saturday night, you were in a state.
I took a shower and laid down but I couldn't sleep because you were going absolutely nuts, for a longer period of time than you'd ever seemed to be up for before.
It didn't escape my notice--but I did eventually drift off, only to wake up with some contractions.
I got up to get a glass of water, hoping that would settle things down a bit (this usually works) but it didn't.
Every ten minutes or so, I'd get another contraction and I started freaking out a little bit.
What if I'd started my own labor by my diva-ish antics?
It's far, far too early for you to even threaten an appearance, and though I knew that what I was feeling was probably just a result of way too much stress for one day, I was scared.
Before returning to bed, I used the potty and noticed that I was spotting just a bit.
Combined with the contractions, it frightened me beyond reason.
I didn't really think I was in labor; I truly believed that my body was just, in no uncertain terms, telling me that enough was enough was enough.
So I kept checking back but the spotting was only that once and though the contractions were still noticable, they were relenting a bit.
But I laid there thinking, this is so stupid.
I can't get myself so worked up, I can't spend the day just running errands for hours on end, only to then face a marathon single parenting session which is stressful beyond belief on its own and for which I need sanity, patience, and rest.
What I feared most was that I was mis-judging the situation and that I'd, thinking that the spotting and the contractions were just an after-effect of my stressful day, completely miss the signs of true premature labor.
What if, I wondered, I just went to sleep with these mild contractions and then woke up at 4am like I have in the past with some of your siblings, in hard, fast labor?
You would not survive an accidental birth here at home.
You would hopefully be alright in a hospital setting but if I didn't have time to get there, we'd be in real trouble.
So...I need to make a conscious effort to not be a stressed-out lunatic for your sake because it definitely impacts you enough to make me sit up and notice.
I spent so much time worrying about how I would handle the kids here at home all on my own that I didn't do anything to make sure that we, you and I, were okay.
If I weren't pregnant with you, his leaving would be an irritant but only due to the lack of help.
(He is not, for the record, out having fun in Vegas. He is not out having fun anywhere. He is simply... needed. And if someone needs him more than I do, than you know how important it was for him to go.)
Four kids is a lot of work with help, but adding in my own pregnancy-induced fatigue and limited reserves of
SuperMommy juice, well, thinking about all that needs done in a day without any extra hands or kind words (when I've run out of my own)...it just pushed me over the edge.
I suppose we compromised somewhere in there.
He moved mountains (literally) to be gone for just over a day and a half.
That felt tremendously more manageable to me and my relief was probably palpable to you.
It's also sort of highlighted an issue that's been lingering around for a bit and it's this:
We're not a normal family and we can't behave like one.
By "normal" I mean, due to our family size, it's imperative that we do what works best for us and to let the rest of it go.
(Doing this usually makes us (me) rather unpopular with family because in every family, there are expectations and I'm much more likely to buck those than Daddy is. When I see needs conflicting, I'm more apt to choose what's better for you kids rather than making sure everyone else is happy.
That makes me Not. Popular.)
Whereas when we had a smaller amount of children, we could be more flexible as a family.
But now, maybe we really kind of can't.
Anyway, though it was scary, it was a terrific reminder to me that just because I am, in general, feeling really good right now, I'm still very responsible for your, and my, well-being--along with the rest of this household.
Just as I make sure to change my diet to better suit your needs, I need to change my stress management as well.
Unfortunately, I seem to suffer from those hallmark-of-pregancy mood swings.
I need things to be rather...copacetic right now.
I need my boat to not be rocked, I need your brother to take a toddler-sized dose of a chill pill, I need NOT to be single parenting at this precise moment in time.
But that's life, sweet stuff :)
It has become abundantly clear to me that, after all of these years of thinking other-wise, the world does, in fact, NOT revolve around me.
Shocking and sad but true.
Harumph.
(That was a joke. I sure hope my sense of humor translates well because if not you're going to think I'm one seriously crazy piece of work.)
I'm off to kick back and relax now and I promise to not get you all worked up like that again.
At least until the weekend ;)
Loving you already,
Mama (who is so very, very glad that you are still as snug as could be in her incubator)
Monday, March 22, 2010
24 Weeks, 3 Days
I can not, can not, believe that we have begun our sixth month of pregnancy together.
It just sounds so...pregnant!
From here on out, it all will just sound very close and very big: seven months, eight, then nine.
It sort of scares me how fast the days are passing because there are several things that I need to get done before I can really concentrate on getting you here.
Our spring semester has begun and with it comes gorgeous weather and a jam-packed family schedule.
We're also wrapping up school for your oldest siblings, with hopefully next month (April) being our last.
May will be a play month, with a vacation scheduled and some fun holidays tossed in.
June is reserved for you, with me focusing completely on assembling your birth supplies, laundering your clothes (onesies in my wash again--so cute I can't stand it!), finalizing little things here and there like your name (such a "little" thing, yes? :)) and how we're going to negotiate your day of birth.
I'm still not certain on who I want here and how I want your siblings involved.
I asked Chas the other day if he was at all interested in seeing your birth and he quickly replied that he wasn't.
So it's good to know where he stands on things because that sort of sets the tone for the others a bit.
Part of me is still leaning towards a super private birth, with only the midwives and Daddy in attendance.
Another part of me thinks, maybe I should let the kids decide for themselves.
This seems to be a popular way of thinking in the home-birthing cicuit but if Chas doesn't really feel comfortable, then I'm not sure I need to encourage the rest of them.
Greer and Creux can't be unattended anyway so there will be another person here taking care of them during the birth and I haven't officially asked anyone yet though I do have some ideas.
It needs to be someone who is just here for them.
And that's the hard part.
Because I don't want someone here who terribly wants to see you born because I need them to be focused on your siblings.
But at the same time, I suppose it needs to be someone who would be okay witnessing a birth and someone that I would be okay with witnessing your birth.
I can't say for sure what will happen so I need to think carefully about this decision.
I'm planning to enlist a little bit of summer help though and really would like someone here every day in the week or two leading up to your birth.
I'll be tired and busy and will be wanting to spend time with your siblings but won't be able to do everything.
Most importantly, I don't want them to lose their entire summer on account of me not wanting to do anything or go anywhere--I won't be able to do much in the weeks following your arrival.
And even in the weeks leading up to your birth, I'll likely just feel like doing less in general.
But I'd still like everyone to be able to go to the pool, head out for ice cream, visit the playground--that type of stuff.
Not to mention that planning to have someone here during the last two weeks would be great for "just in case". It will reduce my anxiety anyway just knowing that if something were to happen quickly, I at least have another adult close at hand to care for my smaller children.
While I've long said that "everything is happening sooner" in this pregnancy with you, I have to say that I think I've hit my groove much later.
Which really makes sense when you think about it.
I feel almost totally normal these days--my energy is high, I'm not quite so drained all the time, I'm sleeping "ok" still.
This is what 18 weeks used to feel like.
Mostly right now my biggest problem is just regulating my mood swings.
Egads, those things are wicked.
I'm totally fine one minute and the next I'm a disaster.
This is much harder for Daddy than me, I think.
Usually he can joke around with me pretty heavily but these days, I'm more liable to end up with hurt feelings than anything else.
All I can say is, if you're going to crack a joke about a pregnant woman, it better be hi-lar-ious or you're going to be in deep doo-doo and you'll spend the next two hours explaining EXACTLY what you meant when you said something that you thought was funny but really was very, very stupid.
(Clearly here "you" is standing in for "he". But it's good advice none-the-less.)
Anyway, he's been a little blind-sided by my changing the rules of engagement as far as the way we relate to each other.
He's quite baffled most of the time, really.
He says I've lost my sense of humor right now and he would be right.
I sort of have, at least in terms of dumb (really, they ARE dumb) comments.
My response to that was, "Then stop joking."
And I don't mean to make it sound like he's being unkind, he isn't, not purposefully anyway.
I'm just super sensitive in general.
So if he says anything that starts with "Don't take this the wrong way but (insert ridiculously stupid not funny comment)" I've got my verbal boxing gloves on before he's fully finished his sentence and the man is going down.
I will regain my sense of humor, I promise I will.
I like being funny.
I like joking around.
But apparently, I do not like it so much right now.
And he's tired of hearing, "ARE YOU REALLY THAT MALE???" screeched when he's trying hard to figure out why I'm ready to clobber him for saying something a bit off-color.
So maybe he'll just think his funny things for awhile and we can laugh about them in a year.
(The post-partum time period is another unfunny time. In fact, it may be less funny than now. Hopefully he will just be doodling rainbows on the walls and painting my toenails and feeding me chocolates and NOT SPEAKING for a few months.)
Okay, that was kind of funny.
I haven't completely lost my sense of humor.
(Am sticking out tongue in the direction of your father. He's not paying attention to me, he's all hunched over his computer, probably writing an unfunny book of "What Not To Say When She's Pregnant, Hormonal, and Ready To Claw Your Eyes Out At A Moment's Notice.")
See? FUNNY.
Some stats for you:
I'm drinking what feels like a bathtub-ful of water every day and still my hands feel swelly at night.
I can now barely lift either leg in the shower to shave which makes things, well, hairy. (Get it?)
Once or twice a week I sleep in the sitting-up position. That continues to scare the crap out of me because I'm afraid I will have to remain standing by week 38.
You squirm a lot.
You don't like it when I startle or yell.
I can feel small body parts these days--I think I can feel your head down near my pubic bone. I pushed on it the other day and you freaked for a minute. I didn't push again because it didn't feel so great to me either.
Mostly you can't hurt me anymore but last Thursday, you were knocking something bad and I ended up rocking back and forth, hoping the motion of my body would get you to go back to sleep.
That's officially the weirdest pregnant thing I've ever done.
But it worked.
After a few minutes, you went back to sleep and quit punching me.
Fetus, newborn--same thing, really. You babies like movement.
If Greer could pick your name, it would be "Gracie" or "Ella".
She doesn't even consider boy ones for you, sorry.
I ordered my first something for you today--a little duckie washcloth.
And I found the sweetest, coziest, fluffiest towel ever and when I imagined wrapping you in it, I thought..."Oh my gosh, I'm going to have a baby soon." My stomach dropped a bit. You babies still do that to me, even after four, even expecting five.
A replacement charm, another number '5', that you'd given me for Christmas that later fell off somewhere, is now dangling from my wrist again.
(It arrived in the form of a "peace offering" from our very own funny man. The peace was restored instantly, and I do mean instantly.)
It feels good to have it back--I really didn't like getting it and then losing it.
It almost seemed like bad luck.
Mama's done babbling for the night--I always mean to say just a thing or two and then I realize I've written a book inside a book!
Sweet dreams to you, wee one.
Loving you already,
Mama
It just sounds so...pregnant!
From here on out, it all will just sound very close and very big: seven months, eight, then nine.
It sort of scares me how fast the days are passing because there are several things that I need to get done before I can really concentrate on getting you here.
Our spring semester has begun and with it comes gorgeous weather and a jam-packed family schedule.
We're also wrapping up school for your oldest siblings, with hopefully next month (April) being our last.
May will be a play month, with a vacation scheduled and some fun holidays tossed in.
June is reserved for you, with me focusing completely on assembling your birth supplies, laundering your clothes (onesies in my wash again--so cute I can't stand it!), finalizing little things here and there like your name (such a "little" thing, yes? :)) and how we're going to negotiate your day of birth.
I'm still not certain on who I want here and how I want your siblings involved.
I asked Chas the other day if he was at all interested in seeing your birth and he quickly replied that he wasn't.
So it's good to know where he stands on things because that sort of sets the tone for the others a bit.
Part of me is still leaning towards a super private birth, with only the midwives and Daddy in attendance.
Another part of me thinks, maybe I should let the kids decide for themselves.
This seems to be a popular way of thinking in the home-birthing cicuit but if Chas doesn't really feel comfortable, then I'm not sure I need to encourage the rest of them.
Greer and Creux can't be unattended anyway so there will be another person here taking care of them during the birth and I haven't officially asked anyone yet though I do have some ideas.
It needs to be someone who is just here for them.
And that's the hard part.
Because I don't want someone here who terribly wants to see you born because I need them to be focused on your siblings.
But at the same time, I suppose it needs to be someone who would be okay witnessing a birth and someone that I would be okay with witnessing your birth.
I can't say for sure what will happen so I need to think carefully about this decision.
I'm planning to enlist a little bit of summer help though and really would like someone here every day in the week or two leading up to your birth.
I'll be tired and busy and will be wanting to spend time with your siblings but won't be able to do everything.
Most importantly, I don't want them to lose their entire summer on account of me not wanting to do anything or go anywhere--I won't be able to do much in the weeks following your arrival.
And even in the weeks leading up to your birth, I'll likely just feel like doing less in general.
But I'd still like everyone to be able to go to the pool, head out for ice cream, visit the playground--that type of stuff.
Not to mention that planning to have someone here during the last two weeks would be great for "just in case". It will reduce my anxiety anyway just knowing that if something were to happen quickly, I at least have another adult close at hand to care for my smaller children.
While I've long said that "everything is happening sooner" in this pregnancy with you, I have to say that I think I've hit my groove much later.
Which really makes sense when you think about it.
I feel almost totally normal these days--my energy is high, I'm not quite so drained all the time, I'm sleeping "ok" still.
This is what 18 weeks used to feel like.
Mostly right now my biggest problem is just regulating my mood swings.
Egads, those things are wicked.
I'm totally fine one minute and the next I'm a disaster.
This is much harder for Daddy than me, I think.
Usually he can joke around with me pretty heavily but these days, I'm more liable to end up with hurt feelings than anything else.
All I can say is, if you're going to crack a joke about a pregnant woman, it better be hi-lar-ious or you're going to be in deep doo-doo and you'll spend the next two hours explaining EXACTLY what you meant when you said something that you thought was funny but really was very, very stupid.
(Clearly here "you" is standing in for "he". But it's good advice none-the-less.)
Anyway, he's been a little blind-sided by my changing the rules of engagement as far as the way we relate to each other.
He's quite baffled most of the time, really.
He says I've lost my sense of humor right now and he would be right.
I sort of have, at least in terms of dumb (really, they ARE dumb) comments.
My response to that was, "Then stop joking."
And I don't mean to make it sound like he's being unkind, he isn't, not purposefully anyway.
I'm just super sensitive in general.
So if he says anything that starts with "Don't take this the wrong way but (insert ridiculously stupid not funny comment)" I've got my verbal boxing gloves on before he's fully finished his sentence and the man is going down.
I will regain my sense of humor, I promise I will.
I like being funny.
I like joking around.
But apparently, I do not like it so much right now.
And he's tired of hearing, "ARE YOU REALLY THAT MALE???" screeched when he's trying hard to figure out why I'm ready to clobber him for saying something a bit off-color.
So maybe he'll just think his funny things for awhile and we can laugh about them in a year.
(The post-partum time period is another unfunny time. In fact, it may be less funny than now. Hopefully he will just be doodling rainbows on the walls and painting my toenails and feeding me chocolates and NOT SPEAKING for a few months.)
Okay, that was kind of funny.
I haven't completely lost my sense of humor.
(Am sticking out tongue in the direction of your father. He's not paying attention to me, he's all hunched over his computer, probably writing an unfunny book of "What Not To Say When She's Pregnant, Hormonal, and Ready To Claw Your Eyes Out At A Moment's Notice.")
See? FUNNY.
Some stats for you:
I'm drinking what feels like a bathtub-ful of water every day and still my hands feel swelly at night.
I can now barely lift either leg in the shower to shave which makes things, well, hairy. (Get it?)
Once or twice a week I sleep in the sitting-up position. That continues to scare the crap out of me because I'm afraid I will have to remain standing by week 38.
You squirm a lot.
You don't like it when I startle or yell.
I can feel small body parts these days--I think I can feel your head down near my pubic bone. I pushed on it the other day and you freaked for a minute. I didn't push again because it didn't feel so great to me either.
Mostly you can't hurt me anymore but last Thursday, you were knocking something bad and I ended up rocking back and forth, hoping the motion of my body would get you to go back to sleep.
That's officially the weirdest pregnant thing I've ever done.
But it worked.
After a few minutes, you went back to sleep and quit punching me.
Fetus, newborn--same thing, really. You babies like movement.
If Greer could pick your name, it would be "Gracie" or "Ella".
She doesn't even consider boy ones for you, sorry.
I ordered my first something for you today--a little duckie washcloth.
And I found the sweetest, coziest, fluffiest towel ever and when I imagined wrapping you in it, I thought..."Oh my gosh, I'm going to have a baby soon." My stomach dropped a bit. You babies still do that to me, even after four, even expecting five.
A replacement charm, another number '5', that you'd given me for Christmas that later fell off somewhere, is now dangling from my wrist again.
(It arrived in the form of a "peace offering" from our very own funny man. The peace was restored instantly, and I do mean instantly.)
It feels good to have it back--I really didn't like getting it and then losing it.
It almost seemed like bad luck.
Mama's done babbling for the night--I always mean to say just a thing or two and then I realize I've written a book inside a book!
Sweet dreams to you, wee one.
Loving you already,
Mama
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
23 Weeks, 5 Days
HAHA!
It happened, didn't it?
Didn't I say that around 24 weeks, you'd be squashed like a...well, like a baby in there?
Sometimes you kids are so predictable :)
I have to tell you, your suddenly limited mobility has me sort of gleeful.
You were seriously attacking me for awhile! All those well-placed knocks and whaps were taking a toll!
And you're still knocking in there but I can definitely tell you've lost your freedom significantly.
You're kicking in about the same three spots, as opposed to flying around like you're on a trapeze and banging kamikaze into whatever organ or wall you come across.
And you're squirming now.
No more exotic, rampant, unrestricted flipping for you, wee one!
Now we'll just have to see if you're the type of baby who is comfortable chilling out (a girl) or if you're going to totally re-arrange my stomach on a daily basis in order to prove that you CAN still do it (a boy).
I can sit back and watch you move now.
My stomach will jump as you kick, like a little jack-rabbit.
I laid on the couch briefly today and just watched--no matter how many times I go through this whole pregnancy bit, this part never gets old.
It's so amazing, I honestly marvel at the miracle of pregnancy.
I can't believe your fully formed and alive and wiggling around...yet trapped inside my body, waiting until you're big enough to survive without me.
It's astounding to witness, to play my role in it all.
To grow a new life is such an...honor.
Spring has arrived and with it has come a new perspective for me!
I've been able to get out and enjoy the weather, play with my Littles, oooh and ahhh over the daring feats of your older brothers (egads!).
You and I and Creux have been on walks every day this week--today we were joined by the whole gang!
It feels so good to move and to get a bit of fresh air.
I hope you and I will be able to do this together shortly after you arrive, surely in the evenings when the hot sun goes down and the day cools off.
It's been awhile since I've walked with a baby snug against my chest.
I can't wait to hold you.
We'll sit on the porch swing and watch everyone play, spending complete days just swinging together.
It's going to be a terrific summer around these parts.
I just wanted to write today because I'm feeling so great and I want it noted.
(You'll understand why right around week 32 or 33. If I'm really lucky, perhaps week 34. The posts around week 39 will likely have to be totally deleted :) There are diva days ahead, my love.)
I haven't napped all week long, there's been no need.
I feel amazing, so amazing that sometimes I forget you're there until you nudge me, almost a startling reminder of your existence.
And that's not a bad thing.
It's wonderful.
Plus, I can almost wear those flip-flops that require no bending.
Things are really looking up...
Loving you already,
Mama (who is finding it really hard today to fight her baby lust)
It happened, didn't it?
Didn't I say that around 24 weeks, you'd be squashed like a...well, like a baby in there?
Sometimes you kids are so predictable :)
I have to tell you, your suddenly limited mobility has me sort of gleeful.
You were seriously attacking me for awhile! All those well-placed knocks and whaps were taking a toll!
And you're still knocking in there but I can definitely tell you've lost your freedom significantly.
You're kicking in about the same three spots, as opposed to flying around like you're on a trapeze and banging kamikaze into whatever organ or wall you come across.
And you're squirming now.
No more exotic, rampant, unrestricted flipping for you, wee one!
Now we'll just have to see if you're the type of baby who is comfortable chilling out (a girl) or if you're going to totally re-arrange my stomach on a daily basis in order to prove that you CAN still do it (a boy).
I can sit back and watch you move now.
My stomach will jump as you kick, like a little jack-rabbit.
I laid on the couch briefly today and just watched--no matter how many times I go through this whole pregnancy bit, this part never gets old.
It's so amazing, I honestly marvel at the miracle of pregnancy.
I can't believe your fully formed and alive and wiggling around...yet trapped inside my body, waiting until you're big enough to survive without me.
It's astounding to witness, to play my role in it all.
To grow a new life is such an...honor.
Spring has arrived and with it has come a new perspective for me!
I've been able to get out and enjoy the weather, play with my Littles, oooh and ahhh over the daring feats of your older brothers (egads!).
You and I and Creux have been on walks every day this week--today we were joined by the whole gang!
It feels so good to move and to get a bit of fresh air.
I hope you and I will be able to do this together shortly after you arrive, surely in the evenings when the hot sun goes down and the day cools off.
It's been awhile since I've walked with a baby snug against my chest.
I can't wait to hold you.
We'll sit on the porch swing and watch everyone play, spending complete days just swinging together.
It's going to be a terrific summer around these parts.
I just wanted to write today because I'm feeling so great and I want it noted.
(You'll understand why right around week 32 or 33. If I'm really lucky, perhaps week 34. The posts around week 39 will likely have to be totally deleted :) There are diva days ahead, my love.)
I haven't napped all week long, there's been no need.
I feel amazing, so amazing that sometimes I forget you're there until you nudge me, almost a startling reminder of your existence.
And that's not a bad thing.
It's wonderful.
Plus, I can almost wear those flip-flops that require no bending.
Things are really looking up...
Loving you already,
Mama (who is finding it really hard today to fight her baby lust)
Monday, March 15, 2010
23 Weeks, 2 Days
The first thing I should point out here is that I've changed your weekly turn-over date.
Since you're now officially due on July 9th, that puts me at a Friday change.
I'm not going to adjust the previous postings as it really doesn't matter so much but since that's what your medical folder states, that's what I'll now go by as well.
(Though we have no intention of fully making it to that date, do we? DO WE???)
Oh WOW, you've grown!
Or maybe we've just hit that point where we're both fully fighting for the same space.
I'm waddling.
I fought it as long as I could but there's just no denying it at this point.
You're heavy and my belly is large enough now to totally sway my center of gravity and so...I waddle.
Argh.
And I really need the seasons to change because it's very hard to pull on my boots.
I sit on the ground, take a deep breath, and then beeeeeend over you, groaning the whole time.
I have to sit close to my bed so I can use the posts to hoist myself back up or else I have to flip over onto all fours and then slowly stand up.
I'm slower all the way around--getting up from the table, getting in and out of the car, just getting anywhere takes more time.
But you know what?
I feel good still.
We're closing down our second trimester here and are amazingly staring down the last chunk of incubation time for you and preparation time for me.
Can you believe that?
It will be much, much harder in the coming weeks and months and I'm going to do my best to not complain every single time I write in this journal :)
I will be happy for each day that I do feel great and sleep well and don't have a mood swing so severe that I know has our family and friends seriously questioning where they might be able to get a padded room for me for the night.
That's a joke.
Mostly :)
We had another visit with the midwives on Wednesday and I can't believe I'm only not getting around to updating you!
Because I know I'll spend a good hour just sitting and writing, I don't just pop on and off this blog space like I can and do on my other one.
I really only write to you at night, when the house is completely still and I can give you my full attention--otherwise my thoughts will be interrupted and I hate that.
It's important to me to be able to really focus on what I'm sharing with you and though I know this book will undergo a massive over-haul before I have it printed, it's still incredibly important that I give you, and the words written to you, my fullest attention.
So let me tell you about you!
You're over a pound now and you completely fill my belly.
I can tell that you've really grown a lot recently because I still remember when your kicks and punches were way down by my bikini line. Now you kick at the top of my tummy, just under my (rapidly expanding, every growing) breasts.
Real quick--let me tell you about those because GOOD GRIEF they are like the defining twins of this pregnancy!
I'm getting concerned because I'm just a tiny girl really, tall but not....um, bosom-y, and I'm terrified that when your milk finally comes in and my big, big belly starts to go away and I start to slim back down, and I'm left with these huge...things...that I'm going to horrifically resemble a woman named Debbie.
As in, the one who does Dallas.
Okay, that was in poor taste but it's kind of funny.
And scarily true.
(You'll get that joke when you're much older and you might even come high five me. You will if you're a boy. If you're a girl, you'll probably roll your eyes. It's okay. I roll mine at my mom all the time, too. I even sometimes still stick my tongue out at her when she's not looking. It happens, is all I'm saying.)
Anyway, so we visited with Abby and Jill and I have to tell you that no matter what ends up happening during your delivery, whether or not I'm fully able to deliver at home or if, for whatever reason, we end up needing to go to the hospital, I'm so very glad we chose this route with you.
We love our midwives.
I love the way they treat me and you and Daddy...and how very kind and open and engaging they are with your siblings.
They have baby-sized pillows that depict your exact stage of development and they laid the six-month one of you upside down on my tummy so that the Littles could see what you looked like inside me.
When we listened to your heartbeat, we were able to listen to Creux's as well.
He liked that.
A lot.
He'd love a Doppler in his Easter basket :)
And it was just nice of them to be so indulgent with him.
They encourage us to bring our kids along to the appointments so that when they show up at our home, everyone is comfortable with their presence and I really appreciate that. The Littles and Rhyse have been twice now but that was Chas's first meeting with them.
Our appointments, really, are gab sessions.
We cover everything, certainly things relating to the pregnancy but also, just stuff.
They ask how I'm feeling, how I'm eating, how my moods are, what questions or concerns I have. We talk for an hour straight and the time absolutely flies. It no longer feels like we're trying to figure each other out; we're at the point of really just establishing a friendship of sorts.
Do I trust them?
Yes.
And I know that my answer to that question will end up being terrifically important in the coming months because I will be relying on them to get us both through your birth safely.
If I'm honest, I do have concerns but not about your safety.
I'm totally at ease with this decision, to have you at home, in regards to your being in a "safe" place.
I'm actually even at ease with the idea of an accidental too-fast delivery here with just Daddy in charge so THAT tells me I'm really okay with it.
It's not ideal, by any stretch of the imagination, but it doesn't terrify me.
It's more me that I worry about and it's just because, I've said this before, I know that I'm not a great candidate for this type of delivery.
I'm a wuss.
I'm not a tough, Earth Mama, type of girl.
And I like my epidurals, quite frankly.
I'm not sitting here planning this with you today because I'm bound and determined to go natural for reasons other than...well, than my own.
Jill asked us on Wednesday to answer this question individually: "Why do you want to have a home birth?"
Both of our answers were the same and they centered around our desire to keep our family close, to be in our own space, and to be able to parent you immediately in the manner that we feel you deserve from us. We don't want to deal with rules and regulations regarding your care.
We don't need help.
We just need each other, all seven of us.
For my part, I don't sleep well in hospitals so I'm not even rested when I get back home because the nurses are coming in every three hours or so.
I've never, not once in all of my newborny moments, used the nursery.
I have never desired to be apart from my fresh babies for one second and have often waited in agony for their returns.
(Back when we had Chas, they took him for HOURS. Like three. Same with Rhyse. Hospital policies seemed to loosen a bit when we had Greer, she spent more time in-room, but Creux was the first baby that was actually bathed in our room and had most of his vital checks and other things done there, too. Everyone else left for a long, long time and it was always a misery to this new mama, who only craved the one thing she'd been waiting ten months for--her new baby who was busy being handled somewhere else. I'm done, done, done with those days.)
So you see, I am a woman whose desire to have her way in parenting her newborn outweighs her fear of enduring hours worth of pain.
I know some women who have natural deliveries like it's a piece of cake.
But I don't.
Labor is hard for me and I suspect that some of why I break down in the moment is because I'm exhausted from the month-long constant contractions and the repetitive "Is this it?" scenarios.
Because I know it can go so fast for me, I spend the last month on-guard, through all of that pre-labor dilating that I do.
Truthfully though, I'm just a baby.
Even having gone through labor four times before, my stomach still drops a bit when I imagine realizing "It's time."
And I know, I KNOW, that I'm going to hit a point in the middle of your labor and I'm going to feel like I made the wrong decision.
It'll be the point where the pain starts to get the better of me, but when I know there's far more to come, and it'll be when I realize that I've hit the point of no return.
The decision, which is already final barring some complication, will really be final to me and I'll have a good, old-fashioned meltdown right there in front of everyone.
I could surprise myself but I'm guessing this is the way it will go.
However.
I'll have that meltdown and then I'll be okay.
I'll be stronger and I'll get through it and then it will be over.
But I'm not delusional enough to think it's going to be all rainbows and butterflies up in that bedroom of mine.
I do have to remind myself of this though because I'm sort of used to that rainbows and butterflies type of birth.
I'm in agony, I get my epidural, and then I, with hair done and a fresh coat of lip gloss, sit back and enjoy delivering my baby.
I'm talking, laughing, fully engaged and aware.
And I almost hate to think about missing out on some of that because I will be in a different place mentally so I won't be just enjoying the moment this time around.
I'll be in my own private hell, most likely.
So I have to be careful to not be unrealistic, too.
The birth images won't match for me, yours compared to your siblings, and I need to be okay with that.
When Abby was examining me on the couch, she mentioned that I had, "a surprising amount of water rentention" and this led to a discussion and modification of my diet.
She wants me to drink a GALLON of water a day.
That's like, impossible, quite frankly.
I am a woman, not an elephant and I simply do not see how I can consume that much water in a day.
Plus, I would have to wear a diaper because I would be peeing every 25 seconds.
Seriously!
But I have agreed to attempt this colossal challenge and, well, we'll just see.
Daddy totally threw me under the bus when Abby asked if I was having any cravings.
"She likes desserts right now and normally she doesn't," he blurted out, while my gaze narrowed on him.
Watch it, pal, I was thinking.
That sounded dangerously close to a comment for which you'd need to be smacked upside the head.
(In all fairness, Daddy has never, ever, ever said or done anything to make me feel...um, judged about my food consumption during my pregnancies or there-after for that matter. He's never made me feel bad about food choices, or like I've gained too much, or that I'm not losing weight fast enough after you babies arrive. Which is good because after going through what a woman must go through physically, mentally and emotionally during a pregnancy, I can't say that his words would be appreciated or that he'd be living long after uttering them.)
So that little outing of his led to the idea that my craving of sweets likely means that I am not getting enough protein in my diet which is highly possible because I don't eat much meat at all.
I do try to eat a bit more when I'm pregnant but honestly, I could easily be a vegetarian except for one little problem and that's PROTEIN!
What I hate more than eating hunks of meat is attempting to eat hunks of black beans or any beans for that matter.
Surely there are other ways of consuming protein and I'm currently doing just that--one biggie has been to add a protein powder to my smoothies and though it definitely take it from a smoothie to a shake, I drink it down.
I need it, you need it, it's the easiest way for me to get it into my diet.
I'm also taking a calcium supplement in addition to my prenatal vitamin because I don't consume much dairy either.
I have issues with dairy and the more I read, the more I want to do away with it completely.
It's partly the reason why I nurse longer than a year--Creux was the first baby we had to not go from breast milk to cow's milk.
He didn't get milk.
He got me and he got water.
You will have the same refreshments :)
I'll typically have a bit milk if I eat cereal but that's about it for me and the whole dairy thing.
I don't think it does a body good so I don't encourage hefty usage here at home.
Since I complained of having foot cramps (which I did for two days in a row but then they disappeared), Abby said it was likely a calcium deficiency and that we should add the supplement to my diet.
So now we're all proteined and calciumed up!
Hopefully that and the insane amount of water (!!!) is all that I'll need from here on out.
The last thing we talked about concerning you is just the sorry state of me.
I was complaining about everything just happening so much sooner with you than even with Creux (even those things I mentioned tonight--the waddling and groaning boot issues) and she pointed out that I now have a different body than I did than "even with Creux."
This body has now gone through four, not three, pregnancies and each one changes things a bit which makes total sense.
It's not so much that I'm two years older, it's just that my body has gone through the rigors of making another human an extra time in between then.
I guess I hadn't really looked at it like that before, I just contantly compare and lament over how early, how early, but...what do I expect?
Five pregnancies certainly is going to take a toll and I just need to be kinder to myself.
I'll have to keep this in mind when I'm desperate to get back into my regular girl skinny jeans because I'm impatient as it is. (Who isn't?)
I need to just respect the enormous task that my body is challenged with and let the rest of it go.
Easier said than done when something organ-like is crammed in between ribs number six and seven for months on end.
Harumph!
That's all for now, plus you're kicking the pillow that this laptop is resting on so it's very distracting to me.
You did this the other night with the book that I had resting against you while I was reading in bed, knocking it all over the place.
You'd make a good shelf if you'd just relax in there.
It's hard to get stuff done when you're constantly kicking things out of the way, you know :)
Loving you already,
Mama
Since you're now officially due on July 9th, that puts me at a Friday change.
I'm not going to adjust the previous postings as it really doesn't matter so much but since that's what your medical folder states, that's what I'll now go by as well.
(Though we have no intention of fully making it to that date, do we? DO WE???)
Oh WOW, you've grown!
Or maybe we've just hit that point where we're both fully fighting for the same space.
I'm waddling.
I fought it as long as I could but there's just no denying it at this point.
You're heavy and my belly is large enough now to totally sway my center of gravity and so...I waddle.
Argh.
And I really need the seasons to change because it's very hard to pull on my boots.
I sit on the ground, take a deep breath, and then beeeeeend over you, groaning the whole time.
I have to sit close to my bed so I can use the posts to hoist myself back up or else I have to flip over onto all fours and then slowly stand up.
I'm slower all the way around--getting up from the table, getting in and out of the car, just getting anywhere takes more time.
But you know what?
I feel good still.
We're closing down our second trimester here and are amazingly staring down the last chunk of incubation time for you and preparation time for me.
Can you believe that?
It will be much, much harder in the coming weeks and months and I'm going to do my best to not complain every single time I write in this journal :)
I will be happy for each day that I do feel great and sleep well and don't have a mood swing so severe that I know has our family and friends seriously questioning where they might be able to get a padded room for me for the night.
That's a joke.
Mostly :)
We had another visit with the midwives on Wednesday and I can't believe I'm only not getting around to updating you!
Because I know I'll spend a good hour just sitting and writing, I don't just pop on and off this blog space like I can and do on my other one.
I really only write to you at night, when the house is completely still and I can give you my full attention--otherwise my thoughts will be interrupted and I hate that.
It's important to me to be able to really focus on what I'm sharing with you and though I know this book will undergo a massive over-haul before I have it printed, it's still incredibly important that I give you, and the words written to you, my fullest attention.
So let me tell you about you!
You're over a pound now and you completely fill my belly.
I can tell that you've really grown a lot recently because I still remember when your kicks and punches were way down by my bikini line. Now you kick at the top of my tummy, just under my (rapidly expanding, every growing) breasts.
Real quick--let me tell you about those because GOOD GRIEF they are like the defining twins of this pregnancy!
I'm getting concerned because I'm just a tiny girl really, tall but not....um, bosom-y, and I'm terrified that when your milk finally comes in and my big, big belly starts to go away and I start to slim back down, and I'm left with these huge...things...that I'm going to horrifically resemble a woman named Debbie.
As in, the one who does Dallas.
Okay, that was in poor taste but it's kind of funny.
And scarily true.
(You'll get that joke when you're much older and you might even come high five me. You will if you're a boy. If you're a girl, you'll probably roll your eyes. It's okay. I roll mine at my mom all the time, too. I even sometimes still stick my tongue out at her when she's not looking. It happens, is all I'm saying.)
Anyway, so we visited with Abby and Jill and I have to tell you that no matter what ends up happening during your delivery, whether or not I'm fully able to deliver at home or if, for whatever reason, we end up needing to go to the hospital, I'm so very glad we chose this route with you.
We love our midwives.
I love the way they treat me and you and Daddy...and how very kind and open and engaging they are with your siblings.
They have baby-sized pillows that depict your exact stage of development and they laid the six-month one of you upside down on my tummy so that the Littles could see what you looked like inside me.
When we listened to your heartbeat, we were able to listen to Creux's as well.
He liked that.
A lot.
He'd love a Doppler in his Easter basket :)
And it was just nice of them to be so indulgent with him.
They encourage us to bring our kids along to the appointments so that when they show up at our home, everyone is comfortable with their presence and I really appreciate that. The Littles and Rhyse have been twice now but that was Chas's first meeting with them.
Our appointments, really, are gab sessions.
We cover everything, certainly things relating to the pregnancy but also, just stuff.
They ask how I'm feeling, how I'm eating, how my moods are, what questions or concerns I have. We talk for an hour straight and the time absolutely flies. It no longer feels like we're trying to figure each other out; we're at the point of really just establishing a friendship of sorts.
Do I trust them?
Yes.
And I know that my answer to that question will end up being terrifically important in the coming months because I will be relying on them to get us both through your birth safely.
If I'm honest, I do have concerns but not about your safety.
I'm totally at ease with this decision, to have you at home, in regards to your being in a "safe" place.
I'm actually even at ease with the idea of an accidental too-fast delivery here with just Daddy in charge so THAT tells me I'm really okay with it.
It's not ideal, by any stretch of the imagination, but it doesn't terrify me.
It's more me that I worry about and it's just because, I've said this before, I know that I'm not a great candidate for this type of delivery.
I'm a wuss.
I'm not a tough, Earth Mama, type of girl.
And I like my epidurals, quite frankly.
I'm not sitting here planning this with you today because I'm bound and determined to go natural for reasons other than...well, than my own.
Jill asked us on Wednesday to answer this question individually: "Why do you want to have a home birth?"
Both of our answers were the same and they centered around our desire to keep our family close, to be in our own space, and to be able to parent you immediately in the manner that we feel you deserve from us. We don't want to deal with rules and regulations regarding your care.
We don't need help.
We just need each other, all seven of us.
For my part, I don't sleep well in hospitals so I'm not even rested when I get back home because the nurses are coming in every three hours or so.
I've never, not once in all of my newborny moments, used the nursery.
I have never desired to be apart from my fresh babies for one second and have often waited in agony for their returns.
(Back when we had Chas, they took him for HOURS. Like three. Same with Rhyse. Hospital policies seemed to loosen a bit when we had Greer, she spent more time in-room, but Creux was the first baby that was actually bathed in our room and had most of his vital checks and other things done there, too. Everyone else left for a long, long time and it was always a misery to this new mama, who only craved the one thing she'd been waiting ten months for--her new baby who was busy being handled somewhere else. I'm done, done, done with those days.)
So you see, I am a woman whose desire to have her way in parenting her newborn outweighs her fear of enduring hours worth of pain.
I know some women who have natural deliveries like it's a piece of cake.
But I don't.
Labor is hard for me and I suspect that some of why I break down in the moment is because I'm exhausted from the month-long constant contractions and the repetitive "Is this it?" scenarios.
Because I know it can go so fast for me, I spend the last month on-guard, through all of that pre-labor dilating that I do.
Truthfully though, I'm just a baby.
Even having gone through labor four times before, my stomach still drops a bit when I imagine realizing "It's time."
And I know, I KNOW, that I'm going to hit a point in the middle of your labor and I'm going to feel like I made the wrong decision.
It'll be the point where the pain starts to get the better of me, but when I know there's far more to come, and it'll be when I realize that I've hit the point of no return.
The decision, which is already final barring some complication, will really be final to me and I'll have a good, old-fashioned meltdown right there in front of everyone.
I could surprise myself but I'm guessing this is the way it will go.
However.
I'll have that meltdown and then I'll be okay.
I'll be stronger and I'll get through it and then it will be over.
But I'm not delusional enough to think it's going to be all rainbows and butterflies up in that bedroom of mine.
I do have to remind myself of this though because I'm sort of used to that rainbows and butterflies type of birth.
I'm in agony, I get my epidural, and then I, with hair done and a fresh coat of lip gloss, sit back and enjoy delivering my baby.
I'm talking, laughing, fully engaged and aware.
And I almost hate to think about missing out on some of that because I will be in a different place mentally so I won't be just enjoying the moment this time around.
I'll be in my own private hell, most likely.
So I have to be careful to not be unrealistic, too.
The birth images won't match for me, yours compared to your siblings, and I need to be okay with that.
When Abby was examining me on the couch, she mentioned that I had, "a surprising amount of water rentention" and this led to a discussion and modification of my diet.
She wants me to drink a GALLON of water a day.
That's like, impossible, quite frankly.
I am a woman, not an elephant and I simply do not see how I can consume that much water in a day.
Plus, I would have to wear a diaper because I would be peeing every 25 seconds.
Seriously!
But I have agreed to attempt this colossal challenge and, well, we'll just see.
Daddy totally threw me under the bus when Abby asked if I was having any cravings.
"She likes desserts right now and normally she doesn't," he blurted out, while my gaze narrowed on him.
Watch it, pal, I was thinking.
That sounded dangerously close to a comment for which you'd need to be smacked upside the head.
(In all fairness, Daddy has never, ever, ever said or done anything to make me feel...um, judged about my food consumption during my pregnancies or there-after for that matter. He's never made me feel bad about food choices, or like I've gained too much, or that I'm not losing weight fast enough after you babies arrive. Which is good because after going through what a woman must go through physically, mentally and emotionally during a pregnancy, I can't say that his words would be appreciated or that he'd be living long after uttering them.)
So that little outing of his led to the idea that my craving of sweets likely means that I am not getting enough protein in my diet which is highly possible because I don't eat much meat at all.
I do try to eat a bit more when I'm pregnant but honestly, I could easily be a vegetarian except for one little problem and that's PROTEIN!
What I hate more than eating hunks of meat is attempting to eat hunks of black beans or any beans for that matter.
Surely there are other ways of consuming protein and I'm currently doing just that--one biggie has been to add a protein powder to my smoothies and though it definitely take it from a smoothie to a shake, I drink it down.
I need it, you need it, it's the easiest way for me to get it into my diet.
I'm also taking a calcium supplement in addition to my prenatal vitamin because I don't consume much dairy either.
I have issues with dairy and the more I read, the more I want to do away with it completely.
It's partly the reason why I nurse longer than a year--Creux was the first baby we had to not go from breast milk to cow's milk.
He didn't get milk.
He got me and he got water.
You will have the same refreshments :)
I'll typically have a bit milk if I eat cereal but that's about it for me and the whole dairy thing.
I don't think it does a body good so I don't encourage hefty usage here at home.
Since I complained of having foot cramps (which I did for two days in a row but then they disappeared), Abby said it was likely a calcium deficiency and that we should add the supplement to my diet.
So now we're all proteined and calciumed up!
Hopefully that and the insane amount of water (!!!) is all that I'll need from here on out.
The last thing we talked about concerning you is just the sorry state of me.
I was complaining about everything just happening so much sooner with you than even with Creux (even those things I mentioned tonight--the waddling and groaning boot issues) and she pointed out that I now have a different body than I did than "even with Creux."
This body has now gone through four, not three, pregnancies and each one changes things a bit which makes total sense.
It's not so much that I'm two years older, it's just that my body has gone through the rigors of making another human an extra time in between then.
I guess I hadn't really looked at it like that before, I just contantly compare and lament over how early, how early, but...what do I expect?
Five pregnancies certainly is going to take a toll and I just need to be kinder to myself.
I'll have to keep this in mind when I'm desperate to get back into my regular girl skinny jeans because I'm impatient as it is. (Who isn't?)
I need to just respect the enormous task that my body is challenged with and let the rest of it go.
Easier said than done when something organ-like is crammed in between ribs number six and seven for months on end.
Harumph!
That's all for now, plus you're kicking the pillow that this laptop is resting on so it's very distracting to me.
You did this the other night with the book that I had resting against you while I was reading in bed, knocking it all over the place.
You'd make a good shelf if you'd just relax in there.
It's hard to get stuff done when you're constantly kicking things out of the way, you know :)
Loving you already,
Mama
Sunday, March 7, 2010
22 Weeks, 3 Days
You slept in today!
I couldn't believe it--almost two hours after I was up and moving before I heard from you.
I had a really restless night's sleep last night and I must've kept you awake as well.
We stayed in a hotel and there was something funky about the heating system.
We turned it down to 68 degrees...and woke up to like 86.
You make me hot already so I was, quite honestly, miserably uncomfortable.
Had I had access to a balcony, I'd have slept out there.
As it was, we suffered.
You even slept through breakfast which has NEVER happened!
It wasn't until we settled in the car on the way home that I sat up and exclaimed, "There you are!"
Of course, your exhaustion could have nothing to do with my sleeping issues and everything to do with your acrobatics.
Aren't you getting stuffy in there?
Surely you're at least slightly cramped by now.
All I know is, you're capable of some hurtin'.
It's not so bad when I know you're awake and I'm sort of braced for a round of pounding but that first one when you catch me off-guard, it can be downright shocking!
We had a busy weekend--we went to a party with some of Daddy's friends.
It's a group of people we don't see much but we all joke that whenever we do, I'm pregnant with someone else.
It's true.
I haven't been able to have a drink with these friends since 2001.
And that's only partially a joke :)
Daddy said he almost felt bad because we (you) stole the show.
We were there to support a friend but we were kind of like some freak side-show.
Daddy's friends are not like my friends.
They all have two kids--one boy and one girl.
Mostly in that order.
So they think we are just biz-arr-o and are incredibly curious about the how's and what's and WHY's of it all.
I have the same conversation nearly 25 times.
When we arrive for these not-often gatherings, jaws drop, wives try to discreetly point in my direction, leaning in close to their husbands.
("My God. The Martins are here. And they are pregnant. AGAIN.")
They aren't discreet. I see them. I just wink and wave.
You're up right now, thudding around in there.
You're big, you know?
I went shopping for you this weekend.
Well, for me.
I needed some new clothes to fit for the spring-like weather that has finally arrived.
You'd think because you're my fifth baby that I'd just have gobs of maternity clothes but the truth is...I really don't.
What in the heck did I wear with everyone?
All I can tell you is that this time around, maternity clothes just aren't doing it for me.
I went into one store, a big one, one that houses that three smaller stores inside one massive space, and I looked around and thought...none of this stuff is me.
Pregnancy is not the time to wear things that don't feel good on so I left empty-handed.
(Nor is it the time for a drastic change in one's hair. My stylist simply refuses to do anything different to me when I'm pregnant or am immediately post-partum. I've asked, insisted at times, for something new and she always says, "No. No, no, no. You come back to me in a few months when you are hormonally sane and I will do whatever you want me to do." She's a smart cookie, that one. And brilliant with low-lights.)
I ended up going to the stores that I usually shop at and I bought mediums and larges in all the things I would normally wear.
You're so perfectly round and cute right now that I can just wear bigger sizes of the things I like and they fit us really good.
J. Crew, Banana Republic, and Gap. (YOU are one stylish bump, my love.)
Those are my maternity stores right now and I'm actually quite excited to get dressed in the morning!
You can stretch these clothes out, it's okay, I bought them for that purpose and I'm donating all of my other official maternity stuff to the Resource Room over at the midwives's office.
What I have should last me until at least May.
By June, I will be so big and hot, I will likely walk the neighborhood naked.
Interestingly, I think we've settled on a girl's name for you.
First AND middle.
This is big news!
It's the one I liked so much early on, and a middle name that I think goes well.
Honestly, I've had this "potentially" paired up for ages, at least since we were pregnant with Creux.
I'm just hesitant to pull it all together.
(Your father doesn't just sit around on boring days and pair up potential baby names throughout the years.
Me, however, I'm always thinking. Even when I'm not pregnant!)
I wasn't sure if I'd even mentioned to him the middle name that I liked or not but I must've.
Had Creux been a girl, it's what I think we would have named him though I was flipping between two middle names at that point.
Daddy asked me in the car, "So what names are we thinking of?"
And I said your Maybe Girl one, which he's known of and likes, and added the middle name and waited.
He's normally a "no'er".
He says no to just about every name I come to him with so I was totally prepared for that.
But he thought for a second or two and then he nodded, "I like that."
Whew.
(Or maybe he just feels guilty about his rather, uh, heartfelt opinion on the Maybe Boy you getting your bits snipped?)
I tossed out the second middle name and sure enough, it was immediately rejected.
That's okay.
I didn't really love that one anyway.
As for your Maybe Boy name, that initial contender is still the front-runner but I'm not completely sold.
I think Daddy is more sure on it than I am.
He might have even been the one to mention it awhile back, I can't remember.
It's really cute and I do like it, I'm not saying I don't, I'm just not done looking yet.
And there isn't anything on the horizon for a middle name.
Usually we'll pull together two or three full names and see what we like most.
We actually had Creux's middle name, Calloway, long before we had anything else for either gender.
Calloway is a family name on Daddy's side and when we were digging around, we both really liked it.
Nothing has turned up for you yet.
So...I'll keep looking.
It's a bit easier now that I sort of know who you might be.
It took kind of walking away from the names of choice to realize how much I really liked them!
Strange but that's how life is sometimes...
We have an appointment with our midwives this week.
It's been five long weeks since our last one!
And you know what's weird?
I really only have one, maybe two, monthly appointments left until we start going in twice a month.
Gulp.
Things really pick up fast at that point.
This pregnancy with you is just flying.
I know I've said that before.
But it's been the fastest one to date and I'm not sure why.
All I know is, I blink and I've turned another week with you.
I'm still feeling good, just tired.
Always tired.
And both times this weekend in the car, my hands started swelling on the drive.
The upcoming 12-hour long drive to the beach is going to be interesting for us.
In order to keep the swelling at bay, I need to drink water.
If I drink water, I have to pee like 45 seconds later so it will take us approximately three days to arrive at the shore.
Should be good times in the car!
I need to get some sleep.
It seems that you have already drifted off while waiting for me to finish up here.
Night, little one.
Loving you already,
Mama
I couldn't believe it--almost two hours after I was up and moving before I heard from you.
I had a really restless night's sleep last night and I must've kept you awake as well.
We stayed in a hotel and there was something funky about the heating system.
We turned it down to 68 degrees...and woke up to like 86.
You make me hot already so I was, quite honestly, miserably uncomfortable.
Had I had access to a balcony, I'd have slept out there.
As it was, we suffered.
You even slept through breakfast which has NEVER happened!
It wasn't until we settled in the car on the way home that I sat up and exclaimed, "There you are!"
Of course, your exhaustion could have nothing to do with my sleeping issues and everything to do with your acrobatics.
Aren't you getting stuffy in there?
Surely you're at least slightly cramped by now.
All I know is, you're capable of some hurtin'.
It's not so bad when I know you're awake and I'm sort of braced for a round of pounding but that first one when you catch me off-guard, it can be downright shocking!
We had a busy weekend--we went to a party with some of Daddy's friends.
It's a group of people we don't see much but we all joke that whenever we do, I'm pregnant with someone else.
It's true.
I haven't been able to have a drink with these friends since 2001.
And that's only partially a joke :)
Daddy said he almost felt bad because we (you) stole the show.
We were there to support a friend but we were kind of like some freak side-show.
Daddy's friends are not like my friends.
They all have two kids--one boy and one girl.
Mostly in that order.
So they think we are just biz-arr-o and are incredibly curious about the how's and what's and WHY's of it all.
I have the same conversation nearly 25 times.
When we arrive for these not-often gatherings, jaws drop, wives try to discreetly point in my direction, leaning in close to their husbands.
("My God. The Martins are here. And they are pregnant. AGAIN.")
They aren't discreet. I see them. I just wink and wave.
You're up right now, thudding around in there.
You're big, you know?
I went shopping for you this weekend.
Well, for me.
I needed some new clothes to fit for the spring-like weather that has finally arrived.
You'd think because you're my fifth baby that I'd just have gobs of maternity clothes but the truth is...I really don't.
What in the heck did I wear with everyone?
All I can tell you is that this time around, maternity clothes just aren't doing it for me.
I went into one store, a big one, one that houses that three smaller stores inside one massive space, and I looked around and thought...none of this stuff is me.
Pregnancy is not the time to wear things that don't feel good on so I left empty-handed.
(Nor is it the time for a drastic change in one's hair. My stylist simply refuses to do anything different to me when I'm pregnant or am immediately post-partum. I've asked, insisted at times, for something new and she always says, "No. No, no, no. You come back to me in a few months when you are hormonally sane and I will do whatever you want me to do." She's a smart cookie, that one. And brilliant with low-lights.)
I ended up going to the stores that I usually shop at and I bought mediums and larges in all the things I would normally wear.
You're so perfectly round and cute right now that I can just wear bigger sizes of the things I like and they fit us really good.
J. Crew, Banana Republic, and Gap. (YOU are one stylish bump, my love.)
Those are my maternity stores right now and I'm actually quite excited to get dressed in the morning!
You can stretch these clothes out, it's okay, I bought them for that purpose and I'm donating all of my other official maternity stuff to the Resource Room over at the midwives's office.
What I have should last me until at least May.
By June, I will be so big and hot, I will likely walk the neighborhood naked.
Interestingly, I think we've settled on a girl's name for you.
First AND middle.
This is big news!
It's the one I liked so much early on, and a middle name that I think goes well.
Honestly, I've had this "potentially" paired up for ages, at least since we were pregnant with Creux.
I'm just hesitant to pull it all together.
(Your father doesn't just sit around on boring days and pair up potential baby names throughout the years.
Me, however, I'm always thinking. Even when I'm not pregnant!)
I wasn't sure if I'd even mentioned to him the middle name that I liked or not but I must've.
Had Creux been a girl, it's what I think we would have named him though I was flipping between two middle names at that point.
Daddy asked me in the car, "So what names are we thinking of?"
And I said your Maybe Girl one, which he's known of and likes, and added the middle name and waited.
He's normally a "no'er".
He says no to just about every name I come to him with so I was totally prepared for that.
But he thought for a second or two and then he nodded, "I like that."
Whew.
(Or maybe he just feels guilty about his rather, uh, heartfelt opinion on the Maybe Boy you getting your bits snipped?)
I tossed out the second middle name and sure enough, it was immediately rejected.
That's okay.
I didn't really love that one anyway.
As for your Maybe Boy name, that initial contender is still the front-runner but I'm not completely sold.
I think Daddy is more sure on it than I am.
He might have even been the one to mention it awhile back, I can't remember.
It's really cute and I do like it, I'm not saying I don't, I'm just not done looking yet.
And there isn't anything on the horizon for a middle name.
Usually we'll pull together two or three full names and see what we like most.
We actually had Creux's middle name, Calloway, long before we had anything else for either gender.
Calloway is a family name on Daddy's side and when we were digging around, we both really liked it.
Nothing has turned up for you yet.
So...I'll keep looking.
It's a bit easier now that I sort of know who you might be.
It took kind of walking away from the names of choice to realize how much I really liked them!
Strange but that's how life is sometimes...
We have an appointment with our midwives this week.
It's been five long weeks since our last one!
And you know what's weird?
I really only have one, maybe two, monthly appointments left until we start going in twice a month.
Gulp.
Things really pick up fast at that point.
This pregnancy with you is just flying.
I know I've said that before.
But it's been the fastest one to date and I'm not sure why.
All I know is, I blink and I've turned another week with you.
I'm still feeling good, just tired.
Always tired.
And both times this weekend in the car, my hands started swelling on the drive.
The upcoming 12-hour long drive to the beach is going to be interesting for us.
In order to keep the swelling at bay, I need to drink water.
If I drink water, I have to pee like 45 seconds later so it will take us approximately three days to arrive at the shore.
Should be good times in the car!
I need to get some sleep.
It seems that you have already drifted off while waiting for me to finish up here.
Night, little one.
Loving you already,
Mama
Thursday, March 4, 2010
22 Weeks
Well, don't you just have tons of room in there?
You're having like a party or something nightly. I'm not exactly sure what it is that you're up to but it's starting to hurt.
I never thought I'd say it but I'm kind of looking forward to you being a bit more squashed.
And least then you can only wriggle.
Right now you're just really enjoying your roomy little apartment.
If I said a few days ago that you were thudding, now you're thwacking.
And you're strong.
I had to get up off the couch last night and change positions in the hopes that it would throw you off a little so you'd stop pelting me with wild kicks.
It didn't work.
You waited just a bit, re-adjusted yourself then picked up right where you'd left off!
Daddy says that I'm in trouble.
I'm going to have to agree.
Plus, you're freaking me out a bit.
Guess who else was a super dynamo in utero?
Your brothers Rhyse and Creux, my two fireballs.
Gar.
Are you my third?
Now I'm really starting to get worried.
If you're a boy and if you're like anything like Creux, I'm...out of words.
Five and a half months today, we are!
And I'm really no closer to being ready! :)
Plus, I'm an emotional wreck right now, I can't even see a newborn on tv without bursting into tears.
So tiny and precious.
Every time I see a flash on one, I'm a disaster.
I just can't wait to hold you.
At the beginning of this pregnancy, as with others, I was just hostile!
It didn't matter if I was dealing with my family or with a stranger, if it wasn't going my way, everyone in the immediate vicinity knew about it.
I was just snappy and mouthy and grouchy in general.
That is gone, I'm happy to report.
(And surely, so is everyone else.)
And I remember too at the beginning, I had those awful emotional breakdowns, ones that I can't ever remember having so intensely before.
There was that stretch where I was just so sick and so tired and so tired of being sick and tired and I couldn't cope any longer.
It makes me sort of sad to think back to that period of anguish because it really was a horrible place to be in such a happy time.
I truly wanted out of my own skin.
I don't think I've ever heard myself so distraught before, that wild keening, so full of despair and grief, literally inconsolable, stopping only due to exhaustion.
I think now that it must have been something akin to what women go through with post-partum depression but there isn't quite a name for it during pregnancy.
Other than "pregnancy."
Personally, I've never had any post-partum issues with any of my babies so I was completely unfamiliar with how to manage that.
I'm not a breaker.
That's just not who I am.
I might flip out for a moment or two but I recover quickly and move on.
I could not.
Luckily that has gone away as well.
I don't miss any bit of that early pregnancy stuff; in fact, it's hard for me to revisit even now.
I can't read my early posts.
The very early ones, yes, those are already fun to poke through.
But when I realize that I'm heading into those dark days, I stop reading.
I'm still glad I wrote them though.
Part of why I wanted to document your beginning was that so some day, you could look back on this, or your spouse could, or one of your siblings and feel...not alone...in what is happening.
Pregnancy is most definitely a time of joy, perhaps life's sweetest gift, but it can be fraught with other feelings and emotions too and when you're in it, you can feel like you're the only one going through it, who has ever gone through it.
I hope you'll never feel that way.
My emotions are still funky but now I cry because I'm just touched easily.
I'm able to feel more right now in general--for my kids and for others.
I see the Littles comforting one another and I start crying.
I see a baby on tv and I start crying.
I hear an upsetting story about someone, I start crying.
Dreams make me cry, memories make me cry, love makes me cry.
Basket. Case. :)
And it's not a heartbroken cry, not one of despair, not like before.
It's just me...dealing with me.
And you.
There's just so much undiscussed preparation that goes along with a family expansion, or maybe it really is just me.
But I don't think it is.
I always get a little weird and almost possessive of my time with my existing children before another one comes along.
It's never far from my mind that things are going to change very soon and that they will never be the same as they are right now.
As exciting as that is, it's also a bit anguishing.
When babies arrive, I feel like a bomb goes off and once the dust settles, a week or two or three later, we're all kind of wandering around shell-shocked, asking, "Are you okay?", "Are you okay?", "Am I okay???" to each other.
My kids will all lose me a bit and I'll notice it and so will they, pretty immediately.
Our house is like most others where it's very Mama-centric and my Littles especially still really need lots of my time and attention and love and sometimes, lots of times, most times, no one else will do.
But you will need me, too.
And I will be almost completely focused on you for awhile.
I'll do my best to juggle but in the end, I know everyone will feel my pulling away a bit in order to care for you the way I want to and know that you need me to.
It's hard to walk into that situation and not feel a little bit of loss beforehand.
I'm so unbelievably excited for your arrival and this whole family will happily shift to welcome you but as a mother, it's hard to know that while I'll gain, I'll lose too.
We'll recover and we'll find a new normal but right now, I'm trying hard to give what I can while I still can until you call for me.
I have some...news...for you.
I tested those waters, those what-to-do-with-your-Maybe-boyhoodedness waters and they were HOT.
I dipped my toe in and retreated pretty quickly.
So now I need to decide if it's worth a more...prepared touch-test.
I broached the topic and was rather surprised at the intensity of opinion that your father has regarding your wee little boy bits.
He asked a question that I didn't have the answer for which was why I backed off so quickly.
(Mama does not tend to back off quickly, for the record. Sometimes I need things to have a bit of soak time is all.)
This is what he asked me: "So you want to have one son who is different in that way from all the others?"
Well, no, not really.
But will it really matter to you?
This I don't know.
I can't ask you, hey, what are your thoughts on this? Do you want to wait and see how you feel when you're a man and can make your own decisions?
(Because at that point, I'm guessing your answer to that "surgery" would be a resounding, "HELL NO.")
Do I put that issue, you "matching", in front of how I feel right now which is...that it's not the right decision to make?
Or maybe I should just stick with, "It's not sitting well with me."
Because this is how I describe the idea of a Maybe circumcision.
I don't know what to do here.
Your daddy, he never balks at my suggestions.
When I said, "I think I want to homeschool," he said, "I think you'll be great at it."
When I said, "I want to completely overhaul our diets," he was on-board immediately.
When I said, "I don't think I want to blindly vaccinate our babies anymore," he cheered my cause and applauded my exhaustive research on the matter.
And when I said, "I want to have a homebirth," he was nothing but supportive.
These are all...not ordinary...things.
Some would say they're a little bit whacked :)
I don't care much what some would say though.
But I've always appreciated not having to convince, sway, badger, argue points with your daddy in order to care for my family the way that feels right to me.
So I'm hesitant to push back this one time he really feels strongly about something.
I need to think yet I'm very, very hesitant to dig around for information regarding a circumcision for you.
I know I won't like what I find.
And I know that if I research NOT doing it, it'll have me circling his wagon.
We need that soak time.
And this will all be a non-issue if you come out missing that boy bit!
I always say I don't care one way or another who you are but jeeeeez, that would solve one very pesky problem for me.
And for you :)
Loving you already,
Mama
You're having like a party or something nightly. I'm not exactly sure what it is that you're up to but it's starting to hurt.
I never thought I'd say it but I'm kind of looking forward to you being a bit more squashed.
And least then you can only wriggle.
Right now you're just really enjoying your roomy little apartment.
If I said a few days ago that you were thudding, now you're thwacking.
And you're strong.
I had to get up off the couch last night and change positions in the hopes that it would throw you off a little so you'd stop pelting me with wild kicks.
It didn't work.
You waited just a bit, re-adjusted yourself then picked up right where you'd left off!
Daddy says that I'm in trouble.
I'm going to have to agree.
Plus, you're freaking me out a bit.
Guess who else was a super dynamo in utero?
Your brothers Rhyse and Creux, my two fireballs.
Gar.
Are you my third?
Now I'm really starting to get worried.
If you're a boy and if you're like anything like Creux, I'm...out of words.
Five and a half months today, we are!
And I'm really no closer to being ready! :)
Plus, I'm an emotional wreck right now, I can't even see a newborn on tv without bursting into tears.
So tiny and precious.
Every time I see a flash on one, I'm a disaster.
I just can't wait to hold you.
At the beginning of this pregnancy, as with others, I was just hostile!
It didn't matter if I was dealing with my family or with a stranger, if it wasn't going my way, everyone in the immediate vicinity knew about it.
I was just snappy and mouthy and grouchy in general.
That is gone, I'm happy to report.
(And surely, so is everyone else.)
And I remember too at the beginning, I had those awful emotional breakdowns, ones that I can't ever remember having so intensely before.
There was that stretch where I was just so sick and so tired and so tired of being sick and tired and I couldn't cope any longer.
It makes me sort of sad to think back to that period of anguish because it really was a horrible place to be in such a happy time.
I truly wanted out of my own skin.
I don't think I've ever heard myself so distraught before, that wild keening, so full of despair and grief, literally inconsolable, stopping only due to exhaustion.
I think now that it must have been something akin to what women go through with post-partum depression but there isn't quite a name for it during pregnancy.
Other than "pregnancy."
Personally, I've never had any post-partum issues with any of my babies so I was completely unfamiliar with how to manage that.
I'm not a breaker.
That's just not who I am.
I might flip out for a moment or two but I recover quickly and move on.
I could not.
Luckily that has gone away as well.
I don't miss any bit of that early pregnancy stuff; in fact, it's hard for me to revisit even now.
I can't read my early posts.
The very early ones, yes, those are already fun to poke through.
But when I realize that I'm heading into those dark days, I stop reading.
I'm still glad I wrote them though.
Part of why I wanted to document your beginning was that so some day, you could look back on this, or your spouse could, or one of your siblings and feel...not alone...in what is happening.
Pregnancy is most definitely a time of joy, perhaps life's sweetest gift, but it can be fraught with other feelings and emotions too and when you're in it, you can feel like you're the only one going through it, who has ever gone through it.
I hope you'll never feel that way.
My emotions are still funky but now I cry because I'm just touched easily.
I'm able to feel more right now in general--for my kids and for others.
I see the Littles comforting one another and I start crying.
I see a baby on tv and I start crying.
I hear an upsetting story about someone, I start crying.
Dreams make me cry, memories make me cry, love makes me cry.
Basket. Case. :)
And it's not a heartbroken cry, not one of despair, not like before.
It's just me...dealing with me.
And you.
There's just so much undiscussed preparation that goes along with a family expansion, or maybe it really is just me.
But I don't think it is.
I always get a little weird and almost possessive of my time with my existing children before another one comes along.
It's never far from my mind that things are going to change very soon and that they will never be the same as they are right now.
As exciting as that is, it's also a bit anguishing.
When babies arrive, I feel like a bomb goes off and once the dust settles, a week or two or three later, we're all kind of wandering around shell-shocked, asking, "Are you okay?", "Are you okay?", "Am I okay???" to each other.
My kids will all lose me a bit and I'll notice it and so will they, pretty immediately.
Our house is like most others where it's very Mama-centric and my Littles especially still really need lots of my time and attention and love and sometimes, lots of times, most times, no one else will do.
But you will need me, too.
And I will be almost completely focused on you for awhile.
I'll do my best to juggle but in the end, I know everyone will feel my pulling away a bit in order to care for you the way I want to and know that you need me to.
It's hard to walk into that situation and not feel a little bit of loss beforehand.
I'm so unbelievably excited for your arrival and this whole family will happily shift to welcome you but as a mother, it's hard to know that while I'll gain, I'll lose too.
We'll recover and we'll find a new normal but right now, I'm trying hard to give what I can while I still can until you call for me.
I have some...news...for you.
I tested those waters, those what-to-do-with-your-Maybe-boyhoodedness waters and they were HOT.
I dipped my toe in and retreated pretty quickly.
So now I need to decide if it's worth a more...prepared touch-test.
I broached the topic and was rather surprised at the intensity of opinion that your father has regarding your wee little boy bits.
He asked a question that I didn't have the answer for which was why I backed off so quickly.
(Mama does not tend to back off quickly, for the record. Sometimes I need things to have a bit of soak time is all.)
This is what he asked me: "So you want to have one son who is different in that way from all the others?"
Well, no, not really.
But will it really matter to you?
This I don't know.
I can't ask you, hey, what are your thoughts on this? Do you want to wait and see how you feel when you're a man and can make your own decisions?
(Because at that point, I'm guessing your answer to that "surgery" would be a resounding, "HELL NO.")
Do I put that issue, you "matching", in front of how I feel right now which is...that it's not the right decision to make?
Or maybe I should just stick with, "It's not sitting well with me."
Because this is how I describe the idea of a Maybe circumcision.
I don't know what to do here.
Your daddy, he never balks at my suggestions.
When I said, "I think I want to homeschool," he said, "I think you'll be great at it."
When I said, "I want to completely overhaul our diets," he was on-board immediately.
When I said, "I don't think I want to blindly vaccinate our babies anymore," he cheered my cause and applauded my exhaustive research on the matter.
And when I said, "I want to have a homebirth," he was nothing but supportive.
These are all...not ordinary...things.
Some would say they're a little bit whacked :)
I don't care much what some would say though.
But I've always appreciated not having to convince, sway, badger, argue points with your daddy in order to care for my family the way that feels right to me.
So I'm hesitant to push back this one time he really feels strongly about something.
I need to think yet I'm very, very hesitant to dig around for information regarding a circumcision for you.
I know I won't like what I find.
And I know that if I research NOT doing it, it'll have me circling his wagon.
We need that soak time.
And this will all be a non-issue if you come out missing that boy bit!
I always say I don't care one way or another who you are but jeeeeez, that would solve one very pesky problem for me.
And for you :)
Loving you already,
Mama
Monday, March 1, 2010
21 Weeks, 4 Days
A word used to sum up this pregnancy so far is...tired.
Of course I'd use others too: sweet, comfortable, hopeful, excited.
But I don't think I've ever been this tired before while stitching together a baby.
I suppose there's an argument to be made that I'm a bit...more mature (read: older)... this time around.
Certainly that rings true when comparing your pregnancy with me at 33 and Chas's when I was 20.
Yes, there is a difference.
But I wouldn't necessarily say it was better that time around or that I felt stronger or healthier.
I was just younger.
And my God, he had to fight for every smidgen of space.
But I just had a baby two years ago and I haven't turned 90 since then.
My pregnancy with Creux was not this exhausting and I attribute that directly BACK TO CREUX!
I'm used to a bit more space between my babies.
Though Greer and Creux are the closest in age at 26 months, Greer was just easy on me all the way around.
She was a good baby, happy to just be in contact with me, content to spend her days doing whatever I said we were doing.
I don't think she's ever run away from me in her life.
Hmm. I really don't.
But Creux is another story, a very cute, very, very ornery story.
Raising a "spirited" toddler while schooling two big kids plus meeting all of Greer's imaginary friend requirements PLUS running a house, tending a marriage, being daughter, sister, friend (and not completely sucking at those jobs) and actually sometimes stealing three minutes to shower ALONE...I'm feeling it.
Even more to the point, my body is feeling it.
I'm sluggish in the afternoons, I almost always need a 2:00pm break for myself (and I do not count falling into a exhaustion-induced coma mid-day as "free time") and though I have the best of intentions, I don't get to half the things I set out to do.
Plus, my body has given up, thrown in the towel, is offering up no resistance at this point.
So maybe I feel more expectant than I really am, maybe my 21 weeks and 4 days actually feels like 29 weeks and 6 days.
Which means by 38 weeks, I'll feel like the most pregnant person EVER.
You've jammed something up under the right side of my ribcage and I foresee this going way bad for me.
I slept in the sitting up position the other night and that scared the crap out of me.
Why?
Because! Because I am only 21 weeks! You aren't even smooshed yet, you have gobs of fantastic play space and for some reason I've got an organ in the wrong place and you're going to smash it to bits in the next four months.
My slipping pelvic bones?
Yeah.
Can't lift my left leg in the shower to shave which is lovely.
My right leg is as smooth as silk and my left one looks like Edward Scissorhands got a hold of it.
Right now I'm just bending over you which must feel as fantabulous to you as it does to me.
My "skinny" pregnancy jeans are hateful pieces of scrap at this point.
They groan when I pick them up in the morning, determined to stuff myself in them another day.
Oh, they fit fine under my belly, it's the rest of myself that's not quite so "skinny" anymore.
I'm going to set them on fire in the woods behind the creek when the season changes.
Skinny maternity jeans were made by the devil himself, mark my words.
On a happier note, you are big enough now that you're no longer tapping, you're thudding.
You delivered a kick so swift yesterday that it startled me.
I think you're up about six to seven times a day or so that I can feel you.
You seem to wake when I do in the morning, when I start stirring in bed, or when I curl into a ball in order to protect you from Creux's flying "good morn-ying!" leaps.
You're usually up when I sit down to school the boys, or really anytime I finally stop moving.
Lunchtime, dinnertime, evening relaxing time.
You'll play around for maybe 20 minutes or so before settling again.
It's rather adorable!
(And it takes me a good month to stop feeling for you post-partum. I grow so used to sharing my body and being so aware of someone else that it's very..quiet and almost lonely after you babies leave me.)
And though I spent a good 15 minutes complaining about my body issues (sometimes that's just going to happen), I have to say...you're VERY cute, little round you.
You're the perfect little beachball, a comfy wee watermelon, only just starting to peek out from the bottoms of my shirts.
I have staunchly resisted maternity clothes (other than those wicked skinny jeans which were needed like Day Three of You) up until now and I'm not feeling like I need to change just yet.
Lucky for me, a lot of my winter clothing is lounge-y--pants I can tie under you or just stuff like yoga wear, super stretchy.
The shirts I'm willing to stretch out for the sake of just feeling like me still.
On the rare occasion that I go shopping, I'm just buying larger sizes of the things I normally would wear.
You still fit nicely.
I tried one of my maternity bras awhile back but immediately yanked it off and stuffed it deep in my lingerie drawer.
I just couldn't handle the...bigness..quite yet.
Tonight though when I was getting ready to step in the shower, I noticed that my regular super-dainty Victoria's Secret one had left an IMPRINT on my chest.
I looked like I was still wearing it even though it was laying on the floor!
Time for THAT change?
Maybe.
(But surely I must have a somewhat less dainty Victoria's Secret one stashed even deeper in that lingerie drawer? This isn't my first baby rodeo. Where the hell is everything???)
I'm mentally tallying my list of Things For You:
your blankey
your cap
a few new sleeping gowns
a new infant sling (am rather addicted to babywearing)
perhaps cloth diapers? (Is this crazy? They just seem so very comfy for wee tushies.)
I'm having some conflicting feelings on your boyishness and it sort of revolves around your...boyishness.
Mainly, what to do with your boyhoodedness.
All of your brothers are circumsized and this has always taken place in the hospital.
With Creux, I was squarely on the fence with this practice, to the point of NOT researching it because I did not want to read what I figured would disturb me greatly as I suspected that we would have it done and I couldn't face it. (Which is, admittedly, really kind of messed up logic.)
In the end, I deferred to Daddy and made my peace with it.
I'm waffling again.
I'm still not researching but the very thought of handing a Maybe Boy You over for a procedure that doesn't exactly sit well with me is starting to eat at me.
I won't let some baby nurse scrub you at your first bath because I hate to bear your outraged wails but I'll let someone cut you and it's better because I am not subjected to your pain?
I don't know what to do with this just yet.
And it's not my sole decision to make.
I think I'm going to face some opposition here.
Will test the waters soon.
One more thing--
He can feel you now.
Daddy.
We hadn't even tried until the other night but you woke up and he was sitting near me.
He placed his hand on my belly and you whacked him a good one!
He can't always feel you yet (you hit him several times but he wasn't able to tell though I could and would ask, "Did you feel THAT?" every 12 seconds) but he will be able to soon.
Once you get better at that game, I'll invite little hands to play along.
They'll all get a "kick" out of that.
(Corny, I know, I know. That's my "wrap it up" cue!)
Loving you already,
Mama (who hopes you are not somehow sensing my concerns over your Maybe penis and are not sitting with your hands no longer touching your sweet face but with them now clamped down guarding your boy bits)
Of course I'd use others too: sweet, comfortable, hopeful, excited.
But I don't think I've ever been this tired before while stitching together a baby.
I suppose there's an argument to be made that I'm a bit...more mature (read: older)... this time around.
Certainly that rings true when comparing your pregnancy with me at 33 and Chas's when I was 20.
Yes, there is a difference.
But I wouldn't necessarily say it was better that time around or that I felt stronger or healthier.
I was just younger.
And my God, he had to fight for every smidgen of space.
But I just had a baby two years ago and I haven't turned 90 since then.
My pregnancy with Creux was not this exhausting and I attribute that directly BACK TO CREUX!
I'm used to a bit more space between my babies.
Though Greer and Creux are the closest in age at 26 months, Greer was just easy on me all the way around.
She was a good baby, happy to just be in contact with me, content to spend her days doing whatever I said we were doing.
I don't think she's ever run away from me in her life.
Hmm. I really don't.
But Creux is another story, a very cute, very, very ornery story.
Raising a "spirited" toddler while schooling two big kids plus meeting all of Greer's imaginary friend requirements PLUS running a house, tending a marriage, being daughter, sister, friend (and not completely sucking at those jobs) and actually sometimes stealing three minutes to shower ALONE...I'm feeling it.
Even more to the point, my body is feeling it.
I'm sluggish in the afternoons, I almost always need a 2:00pm break for myself (and I do not count falling into a exhaustion-induced coma mid-day as "free time") and though I have the best of intentions, I don't get to half the things I set out to do.
Plus, my body has given up, thrown in the towel, is offering up no resistance at this point.
So maybe I feel more expectant than I really am, maybe my 21 weeks and 4 days actually feels like 29 weeks and 6 days.
Which means by 38 weeks, I'll feel like the most pregnant person EVER.
You've jammed something up under the right side of my ribcage and I foresee this going way bad for me.
I slept in the sitting up position the other night and that scared the crap out of me.
Why?
Because! Because I am only 21 weeks! You aren't even smooshed yet, you have gobs of fantastic play space and for some reason I've got an organ in the wrong place and you're going to smash it to bits in the next four months.
My slipping pelvic bones?
Yeah.
Can't lift my left leg in the shower to shave which is lovely.
My right leg is as smooth as silk and my left one looks like Edward Scissorhands got a hold of it.
Right now I'm just bending over you which must feel as fantabulous to you as it does to me.
My "skinny" pregnancy jeans are hateful pieces of scrap at this point.
They groan when I pick them up in the morning, determined to stuff myself in them another day.
Oh, they fit fine under my belly, it's the rest of myself that's not quite so "skinny" anymore.
I'm going to set them on fire in the woods behind the creek when the season changes.
Skinny maternity jeans were made by the devil himself, mark my words.
On a happier note, you are big enough now that you're no longer tapping, you're thudding.
You delivered a kick so swift yesterday that it startled me.
I think you're up about six to seven times a day or so that I can feel you.
You seem to wake when I do in the morning, when I start stirring in bed, or when I curl into a ball in order to protect you from Creux's flying "good morn-ying!" leaps.
You're usually up when I sit down to school the boys, or really anytime I finally stop moving.
Lunchtime, dinnertime, evening relaxing time.
You'll play around for maybe 20 minutes or so before settling again.
It's rather adorable!
(And it takes me a good month to stop feeling for you post-partum. I grow so used to sharing my body and being so aware of someone else that it's very..quiet and almost lonely after you babies leave me.)
And though I spent a good 15 minutes complaining about my body issues (sometimes that's just going to happen), I have to say...you're VERY cute, little round you.
You're the perfect little beachball, a comfy wee watermelon, only just starting to peek out from the bottoms of my shirts.
I have staunchly resisted maternity clothes (other than those wicked skinny jeans which were needed like Day Three of You) up until now and I'm not feeling like I need to change just yet.
Lucky for me, a lot of my winter clothing is lounge-y--pants I can tie under you or just stuff like yoga wear, super stretchy.
The shirts I'm willing to stretch out for the sake of just feeling like me still.
On the rare occasion that I go shopping, I'm just buying larger sizes of the things I normally would wear.
You still fit nicely.
I tried one of my maternity bras awhile back but immediately yanked it off and stuffed it deep in my lingerie drawer.
I just couldn't handle the...bigness..quite yet.
Tonight though when I was getting ready to step in the shower, I noticed that my regular super-dainty Victoria's Secret one had left an IMPRINT on my chest.
I looked like I was still wearing it even though it was laying on the floor!
Time for THAT change?
Maybe.
(But surely I must have a somewhat less dainty Victoria's Secret one stashed even deeper in that lingerie drawer? This isn't my first baby rodeo. Where the hell is everything???)
I'm mentally tallying my list of Things For You:
your blankey
your cap
a few new sleeping gowns
a new infant sling (am rather addicted to babywearing)
perhaps cloth diapers? (Is this crazy? They just seem so very comfy for wee tushies.)
I'm having some conflicting feelings on your boyishness and it sort of revolves around your...boyishness.
Mainly, what to do with your boyhoodedness.
All of your brothers are circumsized and this has always taken place in the hospital.
With Creux, I was squarely on the fence with this practice, to the point of NOT researching it because I did not want to read what I figured would disturb me greatly as I suspected that we would have it done and I couldn't face it. (Which is, admittedly, really kind of messed up logic.)
In the end, I deferred to Daddy and made my peace with it.
I'm waffling again.
I'm still not researching but the very thought of handing a Maybe Boy You over for a procedure that doesn't exactly sit well with me is starting to eat at me.
I won't let some baby nurse scrub you at your first bath because I hate to bear your outraged wails but I'll let someone cut you and it's better because I am not subjected to your pain?
I don't know what to do with this just yet.
And it's not my sole decision to make.
I think I'm going to face some opposition here.
Will test the waters soon.
One more thing--
He can feel you now.
Daddy.
We hadn't even tried until the other night but you woke up and he was sitting near me.
He placed his hand on my belly and you whacked him a good one!
He can't always feel you yet (you hit him several times but he wasn't able to tell though I could and would ask, "Did you feel THAT?" every 12 seconds) but he will be able to soon.
Once you get better at that game, I'll invite little hands to play along.
They'll all get a "kick" out of that.
(Corny, I know, I know. That's my "wrap it up" cue!)
Loving you already,
Mama (who hopes you are not somehow sensing my concerns over your Maybe penis and are not sitting with your hands no longer touching your sweet face but with them now clamped down guarding your boy bits)
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
20 Weeks, 6 Days
Okay, what was up with THAT business last night?
Those arms up all over your face, turning away from us...have you no mercy, child?
For a good half hour, we saw your hands and the sides of your arms.
All perfectly formed, I might add.
Good job there, those are important components to you.
Anyway, we tried for half an hour to get a decent peek at your face and in the 28th minute, you did FINALLY drop your arms and we were able to see fully who you are.
And YOU'RE SO CUTE!
Already there are similarities visible to your siblings which is freakily adorable.
Mostly, you resemble Chas and Greer but I suspect that might be because you are so slight still and those two are my long and leans.
The other two were true bouncing baby boys, coming out swollen, fat, fisted and furious and to this day, remain...sturdy. (And often times fisted and furious.)
You were bigger than I had thought!
13 ounces (well on your way to a whole pound!) and 11 inches long--the whole of you wouldn't fit in our hands anymore which was sort of shocking.
I sometimes just imagine you as this teensy little thing and you are definitely teensy but not in the same context of my imaginings.
It was amazing to watch you on the screen and since you took so darn long showing yourself, we had quite a lengthy show.
You were in constant motion, with those hands and fingers and arms touching your face and shielding your eyes. In the middle of the session, you simply changed positions, literally the fetal equivalent of getting up and walking away. I felt you start to shift and then watched as you just rolled away, turning your back to us and settling into a new position.
You're upside down which is just about as bizarre to me as you living in a bag of water.
All of which doesn't hold a candle to the fact that you're INSIDE MY BODY.
I was a little fearful of seeing you in such clear resolution because...I was afraid that it would make the rest of the wait unbearable.
And in the moment, it kind of did.
It's hard to see you like that, all perfectly formed and seemingly whole, and to not have immediate access to you.
I just wanted to hold you, just for a minute, just to see you in person, to feel your tiny self in my arms and then I'd have been happy to hand you back so you could finish growing.
Ah, but it doesn't work like that :)
And we can't meet yet so don't get any ideas, which I know you won't, because you CLEARLY do not follow directions well.
Real fast, let's just recap on what I said the other day.
"Keep your privates private" and something along the lines of "don't be shy!"
And what do you do?
You lay there showing the world your goodies which is just peachy in the dark of your waters but not so great when someone is illuminating your home!
Knowing that you were laying like that had me on edge the entire time we were in the office because I was so afraid you were going to flash your bits and then we'd know more than we want to know!
You kept moving so much too that the tech would remove the wand briefly so that you could adjust before we were watching in real-time. At the end, when she measured you, the big screen was turned off and the screen next to the tech was moved away from me so I didn't get to see your belly and only a glimpse of your feet when she'd snapped a photo of them to freeze for us.
You have cute feet, by the way.
I have to say this though, and it's so perfectly me, so perfectly in tune with how my other pregnancies have gone, and it's part of the reason why I love not knowing your gender:
Now I think you're a boy.
Your hands are big and girth-y.
We call them "mitts" over here because Rhyse and Creux have them and "hooves" for feet, to match.
But mostly it was seeing your face--you looked like a boy to me.
You looked like Chas.
And when I was watching you, I wasn't feeling "girl", I was just feeling "boy."
I couldn't really tell from the tech either which I really appreciated since she knew the very second she peeked at you and she knew that we did not want to know.
But it's very strange to know that someone else knows who you are, to sit and talk to them about "him or her" with the knowledge that she is the only one in the room who is positive of your gender.
To her, you weren't one or the other, you were only one.
She knew what my new family picture looked like.
That was weird.
She looked at you on her own screen first to see what your position was and she was like, "Okay, yeah, I absolutely can not guarantee that you will not accidentally see something that you don't want to see."
Which made me think you might be a boy because...well, you probably wouldn't SEE so much on a girl.
It would be more the lack of seeing.
But she also could have been saying it just because you weren't hiding anything.
Free as a bird, in there you are.
Free as a bird.
Either way, it's fun for me to flip back and forth because once you're born, I will no longer imagine these different gender scenarios. Some days I fit another little girl in here and build this new life around her, and then other days, I try on a boy and imagine stepping on Matchbox cars for another eight years.
It's a delight, truly, and the excitement just builds as we get closer.
I think I'll figure it out though towards the end, I really do.
I mentioned before that my pregnancy with Greer was the best, the easiest for me, and I think part of it was because she wasn't as big (only 7lbs, 14 oz) and she wasn't as crazy.
My boys just seem to be boys right from the get-go.
For example, I will not birth a 6 lb baby boy.
I know I did with Chas but he was three weeks early!
Rhyse, at even ten days early, was already 8lbs and 5 oz.
Another ten days and he would've been the size of a Thanksgiving turkey.
And with Creux, I could barely walk by the end.
He was just so big and heavy and had tons of pent-up energy, was constantly squirming and even very late in pregnancy, he'd force a position change.
My entire belly would be rearranged and it was visible!
One minute it would hold one shape and then next, the shape would be totally different!
(By the end, my belly tends to be stretched so taunt that it molds around my infants. My sister thinks it's the creepiest thing ever.)
So we'll see.
I'm currently in the "I don't know WHAT it is" stage of pregnancy.
Might be a girl, is probably a boy.
That's a good summation today.
Your due date is back to the 9th of July but I'm sticking with my own calculations for the purposes of this book. Your conception date would bring you to me by the 8th but I'm not going to complain if you're measuring more towards the 9th. That means your a smidge smaller than you should be for an 8th arrival. Fine by me.
Grow well but don't feel like you've got to break any records here.
Nine pounds is out of the question, I'd like you to know.
I will NOT be a happy camper about that move.
I'm simply not big enough of a person myself to be producing these large, sausage-y babies and each one of you gets bigger than the last.
And oh my good grief, if you give me stretch marks on my belly after none of your siblings did...
I don't even want to finish that sentence.
I give enough to my children, I happily hand over my body for ten months and my soul for a lifetime but let's not push the limits there, hmmm?
You do not want to be the first newborn who finds themself grounded upon arrival, am I right?
(I'm only joking. About the grounding. Am as serious as a heart attack on the stretch mark thing. Do not go there. I mean, I'm sure I'd get over it..in time...with therapy...;))
It was wonderful to see you last night and it hasn't been lost on me that the next time I lay eyes upon you, you'll likely be here.
With me.
Mine, finally and for always.
Loving you already,
Mama
Those arms up all over your face, turning away from us...have you no mercy, child?
For a good half hour, we saw your hands and the sides of your arms.
All perfectly formed, I might add.
Good job there, those are important components to you.
Anyway, we tried for half an hour to get a decent peek at your face and in the 28th minute, you did FINALLY drop your arms and we were able to see fully who you are.
And YOU'RE SO CUTE!
Already there are similarities visible to your siblings which is freakily adorable.
Mostly, you resemble Chas and Greer but I suspect that might be because you are so slight still and those two are my long and leans.
The other two were true bouncing baby boys, coming out swollen, fat, fisted and furious and to this day, remain...sturdy. (And often times fisted and furious.)
You were bigger than I had thought!
13 ounces (well on your way to a whole pound!) and 11 inches long--the whole of you wouldn't fit in our hands anymore which was sort of shocking.
I sometimes just imagine you as this teensy little thing and you are definitely teensy but not in the same context of my imaginings.
It was amazing to watch you on the screen and since you took so darn long showing yourself, we had quite a lengthy show.
You were in constant motion, with those hands and fingers and arms touching your face and shielding your eyes. In the middle of the session, you simply changed positions, literally the fetal equivalent of getting up and walking away. I felt you start to shift and then watched as you just rolled away, turning your back to us and settling into a new position.
You're upside down which is just about as bizarre to me as you living in a bag of water.
All of which doesn't hold a candle to the fact that you're INSIDE MY BODY.
I was a little fearful of seeing you in such clear resolution because...I was afraid that it would make the rest of the wait unbearable.
And in the moment, it kind of did.
It's hard to see you like that, all perfectly formed and seemingly whole, and to not have immediate access to you.
I just wanted to hold you, just for a minute, just to see you in person, to feel your tiny self in my arms and then I'd have been happy to hand you back so you could finish growing.
Ah, but it doesn't work like that :)
And we can't meet yet so don't get any ideas, which I know you won't, because you CLEARLY do not follow directions well.
Real fast, let's just recap on what I said the other day.
"Keep your privates private" and something along the lines of "don't be shy!"
And what do you do?
You lay there showing the world your goodies which is just peachy in the dark of your waters but not so great when someone is illuminating your home!
Knowing that you were laying like that had me on edge the entire time we were in the office because I was so afraid you were going to flash your bits and then we'd know more than we want to know!
You kept moving so much too that the tech would remove the wand briefly so that you could adjust before we were watching in real-time. At the end, when she measured you, the big screen was turned off and the screen next to the tech was moved away from me so I didn't get to see your belly and only a glimpse of your feet when she'd snapped a photo of them to freeze for us.
You have cute feet, by the way.
I have to say this though, and it's so perfectly me, so perfectly in tune with how my other pregnancies have gone, and it's part of the reason why I love not knowing your gender:
Now I think you're a boy.
Your hands are big and girth-y.
We call them "mitts" over here because Rhyse and Creux have them and "hooves" for feet, to match.
But mostly it was seeing your face--you looked like a boy to me.
You looked like Chas.
And when I was watching you, I wasn't feeling "girl", I was just feeling "boy."
I couldn't really tell from the tech either which I really appreciated since she knew the very second she peeked at you and she knew that we did not want to know.
But it's very strange to know that someone else knows who you are, to sit and talk to them about "him or her" with the knowledge that she is the only one in the room who is positive of your gender.
To her, you weren't one or the other, you were only one.
She knew what my new family picture looked like.
That was weird.
She looked at you on her own screen first to see what your position was and she was like, "Okay, yeah, I absolutely can not guarantee that you will not accidentally see something that you don't want to see."
Which made me think you might be a boy because...well, you probably wouldn't SEE so much on a girl.
It would be more the lack of seeing.
But she also could have been saying it just because you weren't hiding anything.
Free as a bird, in there you are.
Free as a bird.
Either way, it's fun for me to flip back and forth because once you're born, I will no longer imagine these different gender scenarios. Some days I fit another little girl in here and build this new life around her, and then other days, I try on a boy and imagine stepping on Matchbox cars for another eight years.
It's a delight, truly, and the excitement just builds as we get closer.
I think I'll figure it out though towards the end, I really do.
I mentioned before that my pregnancy with Greer was the best, the easiest for me, and I think part of it was because she wasn't as big (only 7lbs, 14 oz) and she wasn't as crazy.
My boys just seem to be boys right from the get-go.
For example, I will not birth a 6 lb baby boy.
I know I did with Chas but he was three weeks early!
Rhyse, at even ten days early, was already 8lbs and 5 oz.
Another ten days and he would've been the size of a Thanksgiving turkey.
And with Creux, I could barely walk by the end.
He was just so big and heavy and had tons of pent-up energy, was constantly squirming and even very late in pregnancy, he'd force a position change.
My entire belly would be rearranged and it was visible!
One minute it would hold one shape and then next, the shape would be totally different!
(By the end, my belly tends to be stretched so taunt that it molds around my infants. My sister thinks it's the creepiest thing ever.)
So we'll see.
I'm currently in the "I don't know WHAT it is" stage of pregnancy.
Might be a girl, is probably a boy.
That's a good summation today.
Your due date is back to the 9th of July but I'm sticking with my own calculations for the purposes of this book. Your conception date would bring you to me by the 8th but I'm not going to complain if you're measuring more towards the 9th. That means your a smidge smaller than you should be for an 8th arrival. Fine by me.
Grow well but don't feel like you've got to break any records here.
Nine pounds is out of the question, I'd like you to know.
I will NOT be a happy camper about that move.
I'm simply not big enough of a person myself to be producing these large, sausage-y babies and each one of you gets bigger than the last.
And oh my good grief, if you give me stretch marks on my belly after none of your siblings did...
I don't even want to finish that sentence.
I give enough to my children, I happily hand over my body for ten months and my soul for a lifetime but let's not push the limits there, hmmm?
You do not want to be the first newborn who finds themself grounded upon arrival, am I right?
(I'm only joking. About the grounding. Am as serious as a heart attack on the stretch mark thing. Do not go there. I mean, I'm sure I'd get over it..in time...with therapy...;))
It was wonderful to see you last night and it hasn't been lost on me that the next time I lay eyes upon you, you'll likely be here.
With me.
Mine, finally and for always.
Loving you already,
Mama
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