365 days ago

I met this guy:

365 days ago I was sleep deprived from painful contractions all night long. I've never gone into labor on my own, and didn't really feel like I should go to the hospital.  After all, the c-section was scheduled for 11 am the next day.  But man, oh MAN were those painful.  Every bit as painful as the two times I was induced with pitocin.

And I seriously regret not asking someone to check how much I was dilated. It wouldn't have changed a thing about the surgery, just sheer curiosity on my part.

366 days ago freaked my hubby out so much I was left comforting him for several hours before we collapsed into bed. No mother should ever be scared by a heartbeat like that.

366 days ago I had never felt so loved and welcomed by my ward and neighbors. What a joy it was to feel so nurtured by my friends.

365 days ago a  very purple boy was placed into my arms right as I type this.  He was perfect in every way . . . except that color.  He quickly turned pink (and then orange), but I remember stroking those purple fingers as they wheeled us into recovery.

365 days ago I finished my last pregnancy.

365 days go Jellybean came into this world and we finally truely picked his name. (I still look at him and think he looks more like a Will, but that boat has LONG since sailed.)

365 days ago we started babyhood for the last time.

 365 days ago changed our family forever in the bestest of ways.

I can't wait to see what the next 365 days bring.

Happy birthday, Jellybean.  You are loved.

Nursing Thoughts

I can sum up my thoughts of breastfeeding in three little words: I loathe it!

It’s painful.  I have a very hard time finding way that doesn’t make my back ache.  My breasts ache all the time.  It’s boring. It takes forever.  I never think my kids are actually getting enough. I’ve never had a good milk supply with any of my kids. It just plain frustrates me all around.

I had zero interest in nursing my Little Fellow.  Absolutely none.  But, everywhere you turn in the baby world you are bombarded with the cry “breast is best!” And have you ever priced formula? That stuff is crazy expensive.  I knew I owed it to both the baby and the budget to at least attempt it.

The first two days went fine.  For all appearances, he was getting enough to eat.  Then, on day three, he went more than 18 hours without needing a diaper change!  And his jaundice numbers were getting higher and higher (that stuff only gets out one way!).  So that night I had them bottle feed him.  His bodily functions returned to normal, and his skin started to return to non-nacho colors.

“Great!” I exclaimed!  I’m DONE nursing.  He obviously isn’t getting what he needs from me, and I can say I tried!  For the next 36 hours I did no nursing at all.

Then we went to his pediatrician after we were home from the hospital.  Everything looked great (especially the jaundice which was almost completely gone now) . . . except for one thing. My Fellow was tongue tied! (anyone familiar with my stump will not wonder at all where he got those genes from!)  We talked it over and clipped it right there in the office.  The doctor encouraged me to try nursing again – that tongue couldn’t latch on properly before. I begrudgingly agreed . . . and it worked! (grumble grumble!)

But I didn’t have much yet to give him.  I was feeding him for 40 minutes, and then still giving him a bottle for another 20.  Let’s be practical here – I now have four kids, and I was spending an entire hour feeding my son!  It was hard enough during the day, but to do that all night long too was just too much. I told Hubby I’d give it a week, but if it didn’t get better, I was DONE!

Two days later it was only taking 30 minutes to feed him. DRAT!

I still hate it, but it isn’t as painful as it was.  And about half of the time I don’t need to follow up with a bottle after, so I know he’s actually getting enough from me.  I have no idea how long this will work, but for now we’ll keep going.

Unexpected 2: The Saga Continues

“So, I was telling the nurse . . .” I pause in mid sentence as both the doctor and I stare at my very pregnant belly.  Whatever is coming from that cool hear-the-baby thingy is NOT normal.  It sounds like a horse galloping over a cliff. A three legged horse that keeps stumbling, missing a beat. 

The doctor swishes over to the other side. No better. This heartbeat is just off.

“Yeeeaaaah, I’m sending you over to the hospital right now.” The doctor informs me. “AND, at 38 1/2 weeks, I don’t see a reason to not just keep you there. I think we just need to do this c-section today.”

Oh FLIP! my brain starts going off in  a million directions.  This IS NOT what I was planning on today!

First, I have to wait for my friend to finish her appointment. She’s due just 3 weeks after me, but because of a medical reason can’t drive, so we do our appointments together. 

 

And my sister, who has been my emergency backup, is in Utah for two weeks with her whole family.

 

And my next door neighbor, who is my secondary backup, is in Idaho for the next two weeks visiting family.

 

And the wonderful woman who is watching my kids right now . . .I don’t have her phone number in my cell, so I just hope that it’s listed in the phone book.

 

And my Hubby is off flying somewhere and not scheduled to get home until Friday.

 

Just a couple of things going on here!

I find the wonderful woman’s phone number and let her know what’s going on.  Then I call my in-laws and ask if they can manage the 2.5 hour drive tonight to pick up the kids from her house.  And then I try to call my Hubby. (no answer).

 

I dash back home, throw my toothbrush and retainer into my hospital bag. I tear around the house grabbing socks and pants and blankets for the kids to have at Grandma and Grandpa's. I pull out the kids car seats so they can drive safely. And then I speed the 30 minute drive to the hospital.

 

I find my way to Labor and Delivery. They hook me up and ask 6 million questions.

 

AND . . . everything looks normal.  But I’m just not quite comfortable.  And I start having contractions.  Now, normally, I’ve been having one really good contraction a day, and a handful of “oh maybe that was one” along side it.  But in the 60 minutes I’m hooked up to that machine, I have 7 good contractions.  Not regular, not hard enough to say I’m in labor, but I just don’t normally have that many contractions.

I get 5 calls from my can’t-drive friend, 3 from the wonderful woman, 4 from my in-laws, and one from someone else from my church.

And I still can’t get ahold of Hubby.

Two marvelous  men from my church come to give me a blessing.  The one brings his wife so I have someone to stay with me. 

And still Hubby’s phone is turned off. (LAND THE FREAKIN PLANE ALREADY I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!!!)

The nurse calls my doctor. Because everything is looking so great, and I can’t get ahold of my hubby, he decides to send me home.  BUT because things were just so off in the office, he really doesn't want to wait until  my scheduled date of Aug 6 (which is two days AFTER my due date).  But he’ll talk to me later.

AND I’m still having contractions. What?!?!?! I really don’t get that!

I start to drive to get my kids.  And FINALLY I get through to my Hubby! They’re holding the plane for him to get back to Chicago, so he can then fly back to our place hopefully by tonight. Even though we aren’t doing the surgery tonight, I’m grateful he’ll be there soon.

It’s now  6:00. I’m STARVING. And I figure my kids will be too.  So I stop by Little Caesar's and grab two pizzas – now Hubby will have something to eat if I got back to the hospital.

I get to the wonderful woman’s house.  Someone has ordered pizza delivered to her house so she can feed my kids. (aww, aren’t people great!). So we sit and eat that pizza, and I save mine for Hubby. Just as we finish eating, the In-Laws call: “Hi, we’re here. We figured the kids would be hungry, want to meet us at McDonalds and we’ll get you all some food?” Aww, food is so nice even if you don’t need it.

We drive home. I now have time to actually FOLD all those clothes I threw into that bag for the kids so you can actually zip it shut! 30 minutes later I’ve kissed them goodbye on their way back with the In-Laws.

Doctor now calls. We both agree, while everything looks fine, we just don’t feel right about waiting. Hubby has requested (since he’s now not flying the rest of his scheduled trip) that we do this ether Thursday or Friday. Sounds good to the doctor, so he calls the hospital to schedule the surgery.  5 minutes later, I have an 11:30 slot scheduled for Thursday, July 26.

Which means, as I type this, that I have just over 12 hours until I need to be at the hospital.  Let’s see what else this kid can throw at me!  If my water breaks at 2 am, that will be the final CRAZY straw!

******************************************************

Well, my water did NOT break. I did however have the hardest contractions I’ve ever experienced when not being induced!  All night long, 3-10 minutes apart.  Not regular enough to actually do anything, but hard enough to continually wake me up.  I was so happy when morning came and we could go to the hospital!

 

The surgery went great.  And at 11:42 am on July 26, 2012, we got to meet this little guy!

Introducing . . . .Little Fellow

(this is my favorite shot from the hospital!)

He’s 7 pounds 7 ounces of joy.  And my little family is complete!

Unexpected

“Oh, and by the way, you’re measuring a bit small today, so I’d like you to go in next week for an ultrasound to make sure everything is alright with your baby.” Without realizing just exactly how he has stressed me out, my doctor states this in a very calm tone.

Small? What do you mean SMALL? In four pregnancies I’ve NEVER measured small. And I’m not sure ANYONE in my family measures small – we always look like beached whales!

For the next 5 days, my brain goes into overtime. Ok, so there are two possibilities with me measuring small. First – the doctor only measures my uterus, so maybe my uterus is just small. Second, maybe the baby is small . . . but he’s been big at my other two ultrasounds, so that would mean there is probably something wrong, like maybe the placenta is having problems. And I’m officially 37 weeks, a this appointment is at the hospital, so I’d probably go in for an emergency c section.  Do I tell Hubby this? Umm, no. He’s flying and there’s nothing anyone can do, so I’ll just stress on my own.

And oh BOY do I stress! I count down the hours until the appointment. I pack my bag in case I’m staying at the hospital. I make a list of what Hubby would need to back so the kids can go to my sister’s house.   I make sure EVERYTHING is as ready as possible.  And everyone except for Hubby know that there’s a chance I’m having this kid TODAY.  But I don’t want to worry him, so I keep him in the dark still.

The drive goes fine.  I find a place to park. And then I proceed to get lost in the hospital.  What do you want from me – it’s like the third time I’ve ever been to this office!  I finally find my way, only 15 minutes late. But that’s ok, because they’re so far behind I still have to wait 30 minutes for my turn.

The tech calls me back.  “We’re checking baby size, right?" she asks.  “Yes, I’m measuring small.” I respond.

She squirts my belly and starts up the machine. My first thought – WOW that baby looks big. But I’ve never had an ultrasound this late, so what do I know.

“That’s a good sized head there,” the tech comments.  “And baby IS head down, which is always good to see.” She continues to take measurements – the femur, the abdomen.

“Well, this is NOT a small baby.”  Oh? “Right now, he’s measuring 90th percentile, which works out to be 8 pounds 2 ounces.”

WHAT!! I still have three more weeks to go, and he’s measuring a pound and half bigger than any other of my children? She tells me that there’s a margin of error of half a pound either way, but STILL!

A few minutes later, I’m in an exam room with my doctor. he informs me that I have the biggest baby he’s seen that day.  And then tells me, I’m still measuring only 34  weeks. I have NO clue where this baby is hiding!

So many things with this child have been unexpected. With my other three I gained right about exactly 30 pounds. So far, I’m only up 12 pounds with this one.  If this baby really is 8 pounds, once you figure in all the fluid and placenta and everything, that means I’ve actually LOST weight.
I was crazy dizzy the first few months too. And much more nauseous than usual.  I’m much more tired than with my others.  And I just feel huge (although apparently, I’m not!)
My feet are insanely puffy. Especially my right foot – it HURTS by the end of the day it’s so swollen. 

*******************************************

As of today, I have 16 more days until my surgery. . . which is only 3 days after my due date (won’t that be fun!). So for now, I have to take lots of breaks while I’m cleaning or playing.  I have to drink lots of water, which in turn means even more trips to the bathroom. I need a nap every day or I just can’t function.  These last couple of weeks will be  a test of wills, but I WILL make it!  And after this whole fiasco, at least I can say I really am ready now!

She Failed!! HOORAY!!!

Remember back several months ago when we started the process of getting ‘Lil tested?  And remember how she wasn’t delayed enough to qualify?  It’s been 4 months, so we went ahead and retested.


And she failed! With flying colors!
 



Ok, so it totally feels wrong that I’m celebrating my child’s failure.  But because her language skills are so bad, she actually qualifies for help this time.  It’s possibly some of the best news I’ve received all week.

We are also having her hearing tested – just to make sure there isn’t a problem there that would explain her lack of talking.  Can I just say, pediatric audiologists are TROOPERS!!!  We only got through one ear, and there is actually a possibility of a problem in that ear. However, it was at the end of the test, and it’s also ENTIRELY possible that ‘Lil was just DONE, so they’ll retest that frequency on the next try. 

We’re just at the first of this venture, but we officially qualify for services.  Next we’ll do a full meeting where we write up the full service plan and all that, and then we can start therapy!


Hooray for the possibility of communicating with my daughter!!!

Ponderings #3

How a doctor visit and a weight watcher’s meeting have more in common than you might think.

*originally written Jan 4

Several months ago I first went to my OBGYN to talk about fertility treatments. We had tried on our own, but it just wasn’t working for us, again.  I had put off this visit for one reason only: I only weighed 5 pounds less than when ‘Lil was born. UGG! I was super embarrassed about it, but finally decided that we just needed to get things taken care of.

As the doctor and I talked about what my body was doing, and how to help it out, he ended the conversation by saying “and then, of course, loosing so weight might help.” I hung my head in shame. Of course I knew that it would help. And I was SO bad at actually doing something about it!
But that changed in November.  I was determined to get into shape.  Of course, two weeks later I found out I was pregnant – but at my weight, it’s not harmful at all to loose some fat while pregnant. Especially because the number 1 way I’m accomplishing it is less chocolate and more apples. No doctor in the world is going to get mad at me for loosing weight by eating fruits and vegetables!
I was doing great – awesome even. I was down about 5 pounds just after I got back home from visiting family. Thanksgiving didn’t mess me up. Even Christmas wasn’t too bad.

And then New Year’s hit.

FOUR POUNDS. I gained back four freakin pounds in two days! I can’t believe it! I had been doing so great! And of course, my first doctor appointment is only a few days later (today, in fact Jan 4th!). So just how much can I do to get that back off in three days? 

I walked – and walked and walked and walked – on my treadmill. I ate SUPER healthy, and didn’t let myself splurge until I’d eaten at least 2 fruits/veggies before hand and still wanted that treat.  I chugged water. I did everything you’re supposed to do.

Now it’s the great day of reckoning.  My appointment is at 2:00. If I drink only as much water as I can possibly squeak by with, and eat really light for both breakfast and lunch, and only just as much snacks as I can to stop me from  throwing up, and what clothes do I have that are really light weight . . . This is the EXACT same situation my thought processes would go through when I was in weight watchers! What can I do to make it look like I had a good weight loss week!

Wish me luck! My scale says I’m back down 2.7 lbs, which is about 3.5 pounds less than that very first appointment!

*UPDATE:

I just got back – THEY DIDN’T EVEN WEIGH ME!! All that stress, and they didn’t even do it. I
wonder if I can stay down for another month until the next appointment!

And . . .  Introducing our little peanut:


They did change my due date a  couple of days, which is fine. But I got to see my little baby moving its hands around, and the little heart fluttering, and I’m already in love!

For those not fluent on your fuzzy dots, I edited the picture for you (it’s SO much easier to see in person than in a picture! and the other leg is hiding behind the cord right now, but it’s there!)

Ponderings #2

Or, spilling the beans too many times!
*originally written December 22

With my other pregnancies, we’ve been so good to not tell a soul until that first doctor appointment. Until that first real true confirmation that a child is really growing inside you.  Our first hang up was with ‘Lil, when we had to tell our dentist at only 6 weeks along.

Well, things aren't’ going so well this time. Yes, I had to tell my dentist again. And all the nurses wouldn’t stop talking about it, even after I told them that our kids don’t know. I know Girly-Lou is going to figure things out.

I also told Happy Mom. It just kind of slipped out.  Twice a week at our church, we have a killer exercise class.  Only now we have a personal trainer coming that’s seriously kicking our trash. Only a few days after I took the test, I was just dying – crazy dizzy, blacking out, just not being able to give as much as she wanted! Happy Mom asked if I had any idea what was wrong. Of course I knew what was wrong!  And since no one else was around right then, I told her.  So, at 5 weeks, two people know now.

Then Hubby lets it slip to Happy Mom’s Hubsters.  So they BOTH know. The funny thing is, they never told each other that they knew!

Then I had to tell that personal trainer, so she would understand why I just couldn’t do everything that I had been doing. So know, at 6 weeks, 4 people know.

I just keeps on going! Everywhere I turn around, there is someone, for some reason, that just needs to be told.  Around the dinner table last week, Hubby started talking about a pilot he was flying with, and telling the story about how we have 4 kids and how surprised the pilot was and . . . UMMM STOP TALKING IN FRONT OF THE CHILDREN DEAR! Remember that little ears listen and don’t know things yet!

But I know Girly-Lou is going to figure things out. I’m surprised if she hasn’t already. Hubby and I talked about it, and we’re going to tell the kids for Christmas.  I picked up a plain stocking and stuck a giant question mark on it. Then I found an old rattle and attached the following poem to it, and put it all inside the stocking.

One more present for three wonderful kids.
(We’ll explain it soon, don’t flip your lids!)
Why would a stocking have no name?
And a rattle? Is Mom playing a game?
No, it’s something much more.
An announcement of something you can’t buy at the store.
Our family numbers only five for now,
But next year six, do you know how?
Yes, a baby is on the way.
Mommy will be getting bigger every day.
A brother? A Sister? Who knows yet.
But a sibling for Christmas - how lucky can you get!


I cried the whole time I was writing it. I bet I sob when I read it to them (*update: I TOTALLY sobbed!)

Ponderings #1

*Originally written December 10
Since all my thoughts are currently centered on my condition, I thought I’d go ahead and pre-publish some of those thoughts.  So my regular posts might be slim for the next while, but I’ll still be doing lots  behind the scenes!

Now that I’m six weeks, I feel more confident that all will be well, and maybe I won’t miscarry. I’ve even figured out a reason why.  When I don’t ovulate, my longest cycles are 41 days.  Do the math here, that’s 6 weeks along. I think part of me has refused to accept that this might work out until I passed that cycle mark.  It’s starting to feel more real.

And it’s real in more than one way.  I already don’t fit well in my jeans. Yes, I can still button them up, but by noon I’m super uncomfortable. I wake up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom.  And the most surprising of all, I’m dizzy all the time.

That’s the one that confuses me more than any other. Why would I be dizzy? And I’m not talking just  a general lightheadedness either. I range from a constant that-feeling-you-get-right-before-you-see-stars to the whole room is spinning to my vision blacking out.  Occasionally this has been brought on by needing to eat. More common though, it’s because I looked over my shoulder too fast, or nodded my head in a conversation too much.

Let’s just say I’ve got some questions for my doctor!

Forgetfulness and stressing

*this is again a super pre-post (as in done months in advance)

Guess what. 

I’m pregnant!  Thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, we’re expecting number 4 in August. 

But I’m writing this in December. December 1 to be exact.  It has only been 4 days since I took my pregnancy test.  And I think I’m getting pregnancy brain already.

Twice – hear that TWICE – in the last three days, I have lovingly made Buddy’s lunch . . . and then left it sitting on the counter.  Its MY job to make sure it gets in his back pack, and I’ve totally, completely blown it.  The first time, I saw it early enough to get it to him. Today I didn’t see it until a full hour past lunch time.

Today, I put 7 envelopes in my mail box . . . without a single stamp on any of them.

I am not even 5 weeks along – isn’t it WAY too early to be having this happen?

And speaking of too early . . . this pregnancy terrifies me.  I want to be pregnant. I’ve wanted to be pregnant for more than a year now.  But this is pregnancy number four for me.  I’ve never had a bad miscarriage* . . . and I’m terrified that it’s my turn. 

I want to shout it to the world – I’M PREGNANT!!!!!!!! But it’s still so early.  The idea of needing to tell everyone that I lost the baby just makes me feel sick.  I’ve got 8 more weeks of my first trimester – and I’m still giving my mother a present that states my condition.  What if I miscarry while I’m visiting her?

And if I do miscarry . . . what then?  I only get 4 c-sections.  My body can’t labor normally – could I even have a “normal” miscarriage?  What if it ended up being my last pregnancy EVER ended only in a feeling of emptiness. 

Of course, if you’re reading this, it means I’m past the super worried part. Because if I actually DID miscarry, this post would never be read. Instead there would most likely be silence from me for a very VERY long time while I came to grips with my situation.

I hope this worry is only because it’s just so new. And I’ve taken too many failed pregnancy tests in the last year for this to really feel true. (I’ve never been so glad that I took a picture of a urine based test in my life! But I keep on needing to reassure myself with the picture I took of that beautiful positive staring up at me.)  How I hope this worry is only me feeling guilty that I AM pregnant, when my good friend is not.  I hope my fears are rooted in my own imagination that everyone has to have a really bad miscarriage – and not in premonition.

So here’s MY Christmas wish: That all my followers have a wonderful season . . .and actually get the
chance to read this post, instead of an unbelievably painful one that I hope I never need to write.
*I think I might have actually had a miscarriage a few months ago. But I was only 3 days late, so I’m not actually sure.  But I did think I actually ovulated that time, and it was a rather heavy period, so that’s why I wonder if I did.

How much fun can YOU have with a pin?

Parents often dream about what their children will be like when they grow up. We discuss our dreams for them, our wishes and joys and expectations.  But none of that can happen unless your parenting inspires those attributes.

In an attempt to help my children excel in some of the most important things in life, I’ve introduced them at a young age to some of the these ideals.  Foremost of which, naturally, is Harry Potter and Narnia. The books of course, not the movies. Girly-Lou still can’t make it through a movie with actual people in it without major fear tears. (yes, I realize you thought I was talking about more than being an amazing geek. But this is ME you’re talking about!)

Over the last few months, we’ve been reading Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. (Yes, I said months. Their attention span is not huge, and we often go a few days in between readings)

Tonight we read Harry’s ordeal with Norbert the Dragon. My children gasped as they discovered Malfoy spying. They cheered when Charlie’s friends flew away. And they worried when Harry got caught.

After the chapter was over, Buddy wanted to know just what a cloak was anyway (you may recall, the invisibility cloak plays a rather important roll in that chapter).  My attempt to explain that it was like a long coat, only without sleeves or a zipper did not go over so well. Instead I received even more questions. Finally, I had Buddy grab his blanket and I draped it over his shoulders in proper cloak fashion. This was better. I even left a corner that could pretend to be the hood.  Light bulbs figuratively flashed above their heads.  Girly-Lou wanted her blanket done in the same fashion.
Three safety pins later, we had this:



It does this geeky mom’s heart proud to see her offspring cavorting around in cloaks.



Girly-Lou decided to howl at the moon in hers (I don’t exactly know why.)



Buddy couldn’t stand still, his was sooooooo cool.



Even ‘Lil thought it was an awesome idea.



“Look, Ma. I’m a hobbit!”



It was a full 60 minutes that the three of them played together. There was much cheering and joy and silliness.  And even requests to sleep in the cloaks. (but reason prevailed, and this did not happen.)

 

If only I’d known just how much fun 3 safety pins could bring, I think they would have received some in their stockings!
So, what little things have brought joy to your family lately?

Preponderance on Paper

Growing up, my sisters and I knew my Mom was somewhat of a toilet paper snob. Not that she'd ever call herself such, but she was very picky about her TP.

We even had discussions on toilet paper. Not frequently, but we had them.

With that history, I find myself aware of the selection in other bathrooms. I notice textures, thickness, how well it holds up.

I lean towards the brand I knew as a child.  But I am not exclusive in my paper purchases. I've dabbled with other thicknesses, other textures (but never other colors. Really, matching your tp color is just going a bit to far!).  I recently discovered a store brand that exactly mimics my favorite childhood brand and have felt much happier about the current price point of my tissue.

It's just so annoying to be doing your business and discover you are out of the precious stuff.  And on my quest to raise my children to be self-sufficient, I have become uber conscious of the level remaining on every roll. I change every single roll myself.  I check the level of supplies in each bathroom. I do NOT want my children to be without (they are still grasping the whole cleanliness thing anyway - I've got to make it as easy as possible on them!)

But  . . . I just realized I'm taking something away from them too.  My kids don't know HOW to change a roll of TP.  That's not being self sufficient. So, today, as I notice the almost empty roll, I pledge to change my ways. Today I will teach Buddy this all important task. I will make him in charge of changing every empty roll he sees.

And someday, his wife will be grateful that her husband is so thoughtful.

Ok, so I'm sure most mothers have attempted to teach their sons this. And I know that in all likely hood, he won't do it at all once he's a teenager. But for today, I'm going to go with my lofty dreams and be at peace!

Ready

TO start this post off, I'd like to make it perfectly clear that I am NOT pregnant. Ok?  Just so there's no mix up here.


Since I've been married, the majority of my friends have been older than myself.  As I've thrilled with each aspect of being pregnant, they have sighed with relief that it wasn't them. They had their time, but now it was someone else's turn.   It's always taken me back a bit. I've been so excited to be pregnant, the concept of being happy to not be so has been light years off my radar.

But I'm closer to understanding it now.

Last fall, Hubby and I decided to not have a baby in 2011. So of course I got baby hungry the month after we changed our insurance, and have stressed every. single. month. about our choices.

But that deadline is just about up now.

And I'm ready.

I'm ready for my last pregnancy to start.  I thrill at the idea of the last stretch marks. I'm ready to know what color clothes I need to stock.  How happy I'll be for that last catheter!  I'm ready for the last round of "firsts". I'm ready to be done with car seats. To plan the last round of toilet training thrills my soul.  I'm ready to not have little people crawling all over me. I'm ready to start this last trip down babyhood.

I don't know how long this trip will take. Last time it wasn't so great. But I thrill at the idea of finally starting it.

I know that this will be the very last time I go down this road. Physically, I only get four pregnancies, and we plan on doing some permanent choices regarding that.  Waiting these last few months for the timing to be acceptable has been agonizing - I just want to start this path!

I don't know how much I'll talk about it. It will depend on how hard it is this time. I don't think it will be - I know my body and cycles so much more thoroughly now, that I don't expect too much hassle . 

So here's to a new adventure. One I'm very ready to begin!

"The tale of three blankets" or "Great minds think alike"

Once upon a time, there was a young Mommy eagerly awaiting the arrival of her third child. This mom was blessed with a large, loving family, who wished to give her gifts for her coming child. Wanting the gifts to be of the useful sort, they encouraged her to make a baby registry. So she headed off to the land of the red bulls eye, where she and her two children had way too much fun with the scanner. Because they had decided to remain uninformed of the coming offspring's gender, much things of green were on the list.

A few weeks later, the mommy received a package from her noble brother and sister in law. The parcel was full of very useful, and adorable, items for the coming infant, including a luscious plush green blanket. The mommy was full of joy at the adorableness, and was tempted to use the blanket for herself instead.

A week before the arrival of the joyous child, another package arrived, this time from the mommy's fabulous in-laws. It too was full of wonderful, useful things . . .including a luscious plush green blanket. Slightly confused, the mommy consulted the land of the bulls eye's electronic companion, where she discovered that no one had informed the bulls eye people who the gifts were for. The electronic bulls eye said the mommy still had not received anything from her list. Because there was no way to change this, the mommy shrugged and went on her way.

The blessed day arrived, and the mommy welcomed her little flower into the world. That same day, her sister, who lived in a far off land, consulted the electric bulls eye and purchased some thoughtful gifts to welcome the new child . . .including a luscious plush green blanket. When the package arrived, the mommy was overcome with giggles, feeling much love both from and for her family. For it is always nice to know that others agree with your good ideas, and gift receipts are a joyful invention!


*i just typed a whole post one-handed. I've got some mad feeding skills here people!

Tomorrow

It's finally here. Tomorrow, whether I like it or not, I will have a baby. A tiny little helpless bundle to take care of. I did not think I'd make it this long - I was so sure this one was coming early. But here I am, less than 10 hours away from meeting this new member of our family.

So many people have asked the same questions over and over.

"Are you ready?"
"Are you nervous?"
"Are you excited?"
"Do you need anything?"

How do you answer these questions? Let me try.

"Are you ready?" Well, what do you mean? The nursery is assembled, diapers stockpiled, a small amount of formula ready. The baby has clothes to wear, a place to sleep, a car seat, blankets, burp clothes, pacifier, lotion, soap. The kids are at Happy Mom's, my bags are packed, and my abdomen scrubbed according to regulations. Am I ready to not feel fat and ugly all the time? Am I ready to start getting my body back (at least be small enough to not injure myself getting in and out of our tiny shower)? Am I ready to finally know if we're having a "Little Flower" or "Blue Junior" (yes, those are the blog names, based on what my children in reality want to name this one). Am I ready for the sleep deprivation, the aches, the flood of hormones? Am I ready to fall in love again? Am I ready to be responsible for another life again?

Can you ever really be ready?

"Are you nervous?" Nervous about what? About the c-section? About not being able to go from siting to standing or the other way with out immense pain for weeks? About if nursing will actually work this time around? If Buddy, who took 18 months to toilet train, will start reverting like all the experts say to expect (like happened this morning . . . .) If my kids will be jealous with all the attention the new one will get. Or the other way - if they love the baby so much they smother it to death. To be out numbered now? To not have enough hands to hold everything, to fix everything, to help everyone? If the baby will have problems, if I will have problems, if something happens so that this has to be our very last one?

What is there to be nervous about?

"Are you excited?" Excited to hold my baby? To have that new baby smell on my hands? To finally decide on names? To count fingers and toes and hair color and eyes? To not feel like a beached whale? To not have constant cramps with a real contraction every 3 hours - just enough to be miserable, but not enough to do anything about it? To not be a pregnant hormonal freak (I know my hubby's excited for that one, even if it does get worse after.)? To be a family of 5? To feel that overwhelming joy and angst at this new responsibility?

There is almost too much to be excited about.

"Do you need anything?" Do you mean besides 12,000 diapers? And in reality, a whole heap of formula for when nursing fails again. And more patience. And sleep. And for our van, which was rear-ended 3 weeks ago to finally be out of the shop so we can all fit again. And way more money than I really want to spend for doctor's bills. And for it to be Thursday already so I can be home and resting and start the process of our new "normal" life.

Nope. Not a thing.

Ready or not. Here baby comes.

My struggle with mommy rage

I feel like I need to apologise for my lack of blogging. I feel like I'm being a bad bloggy friend. I promise I've been reading your blogs, I just haven't felt profound, or inspired, or even remotely funny - all things I try to do when I blog. Just part of my goal to pretend that I'm cool like that. I have planned on writing some posts requested by some comments. I've done a lot of mental drafts, just haven't sat at my computer long enough to do more than that.

But this post got me thinking today.

Like Besty, I struggle to decide where all my anger comes from. As my siblings can attest - I had a lot as a teen too, especially certain times of the month. I remember how great it was when I got my own room, and could just hide in there for a week. Everyone was so much happier when I could withdraw myself from life, including myself.

But I haven't struggled this much with my temper since I hit 20. So why to I go from mildly upset to a lunatic in 3 sentences?

I really did NOT like the idea that mommy rage could be some form of "buyers remorse." I love my kids, and have never once regretted the decision to have them. I have however really hated their actions, or my reactions to them.

Yes, I have a raving demon within me. Personally, 90% of the time it’s manifest because of the kids - something they did. For me I don’t think it’s ever been “buyers remorse”. With me it’s all about control.

Think about it: for the past X # of years, you were in control of everything you did. You decided where you wanted to go. You decided what to wear. You decided who to play with, what to eat, how to behave. Especially after high school, you had almost complete control over everything in your life.

Did you want a clean room? That’s your job. Did you want straight A’s? You can control that too. Hate the feel of your place? Just move somewhere else. Your success (or lack of it) was mostly a product of your effort.

Having kids changes that completely. No matter how much I clean, someone else is there to mess it up. No matter how much I play with my kids, they want more. No matter how nice I am to them, they will fight with each other. I no longer have complete control over the environment I live in. I can be as nice and wonderful and clean and perfect as I can try, but these other creatures inflict their own wants and needs and emotions directly on my life.

For me the monster usually surfaces when that control is completely lost - kids trying to kill each other over a toy, painting walls with diaper contents, breaking something after they’ve been told to leave it alone. I still want the control over my life I had 5 years ago.

But the joys of having my children are worth taming this monster. To hear them giggling together as they have a water party in my basement, even when it's over our very nice new carpet - isn't that worth the effort of cleaning it up? It's only water. Or watching them discover a strange new bug - does my need to get milk really demand them to come this very second away from the fascination?

At the end of the day, when all is said and done, I am happy to be a mom. There is nothing more rewarding. My lack of control over myself (let alone everything else), is very disturbing to me. But since one of the reasons we are here is to gain control over our bodies, I just have to keep on trying. Eventually, I will be able to let the frustrations roll off my back with ease. There IS a good chance that that will not happen until my kids have left the house and aren't there to test it so frequently. But I won't give up trying until I succeed. Because I owe it, to my kids, to my spouse, and to me.