on brothers and sisters, boys and girls

Here’s the thing, I’ve always known that I wanted to be a mom.  The first time, I desperately wanted to have a little boy, I really did.  I never admitted that, because I didn’t want to be one of those parents, who for even a second wasn’t happy at the news of their child’s gender.  Would I have adored a little girl? YES… but did I very much want a son?  Oui.    It’s probably because I have a big brother and I think they are important, even though mine has spent half of his life with his face in a book and I had to teach him how to talk to girls.  He’s pretty great.  So, I was delighted to receive the news on that day that we were having a little boy.  He changed my life and no one could ever replace him.

Just as much as I wanted to have a boy, I desperately hoped I wouldn’t be one of those people who had 6 boys before finally giving birth to a sweet baby girl.  Oh brother, (pun intended).   I have always wanted a little girl too, kind of like I always wanted a sister.  When I was four, I used to make my poor, younger, tortured brother wear my dresses and play dolls with me.  We also  played cowboys &  Indians with him and give him highly unfair rules.  For example, if we shot him with our gun, he died, but if he shot us, his bullets wouldn’t kill us.  Pretty much he always lost.  We always won. The end. He cried to mom, what a baby.  Being the third child must have been tough.  When the fourth child was born in my family and my parents called from the hospital announcing that I now had three brothers, I locked my five year old self in my room and cried. True story.  I didn’t even want to see him when they came home. Don’t worry, 20 years later, I’m over it. I think he is too.  So, I prayed and prayed and prayed and prayed and God made my parents have another child (because of my prayers), and at last, a sister for me!

Happily,  I didn’t have to have six boys before having a baby girl.  This little lady has been in my arms for three weeks now and I’m just mad about her, I mean, head over heels. It’s rather difficult to find the words.  And before you start to feel sorry for my shaggy-headed train-loving two-year-old, it’s not that I love her more, it’s just different.  I’ve been working on the words for the past few weeks and I think I finally figured it out.

When you have your first child, it’s all new and exciting and you really have absolutely no idea what you are getting yourself into.  Instantly, your heart turns to mush and that squishy bundle changes your life.  You watch them grow and get excited about rolling over, crawling, first words, sleep, and hearing them say, “mama”. 

The second time around, you might think it’s less magical, because you sort of know what to expect, but it’s the complete opposite.   All of a sudden, that baby is in your arms and you can’t for the life of you believe that you have the capacity for such love again.  I mean, those moments, those first seconds, they sweep you off your feet, feeling vaguely familiar but altogether brand new.   Strangely enough, even though you’ve been preparing for their arrival, you never saw this coming.  You can’t imagine loving another child like you do your first, but instantly,  it’s like you’ve always loved this one too.   How amazing that it this is possible, that it is actually real, another perfect little baby, your baby, and you get to keep this one too. 

But this time, you have the wisdom to know that all too soon this little one will be climbing on the coffee table and jumping onto the couch (not that anyone in this home does such wild things, no never…) and refusing naps and asking to watch Cars AGAIN.  So, you squeeze them a little tighter and cuddle them a bit longer.

And you are very aware that little miss three weeks is already looking older than she should.

And you get annoyed at how other people ALWAYS say, “They grow up so fast, enjoy each moment.” 

But really,  it’s too fast, way too fast, however, you didn’t hear that from me, because I would never say that.

two weeks

This lovely is two weeks old today.  She’s an absolute dream.  Yesterday, we had a little photo shoot for her birth announcement, which I envisioned months ago.  She was perfectly happy and cooperative and I must say, they turned out just as I hoped.  The photo above is from part two of the shoot, because I scheme up crazy things in my head and thankfully the rest of the family humored me, mostly… although H didn’t think he could stand another minute of watching from his high chair, but I think he’s over it.

Two weeks into this adventure, I bet you’re dying to know my thoughts on being a mama of two.  Here goes:

Tired. So Tired. The other day I took the kettle full of boiling water meant for the French Press and started pouring it  into my cereal bowl, turning my whole milk + frosted mini wheat's into warm cereal in skim milk.   You wouldn’t believe the amount of diapers I’ve changed, unless you have actually have two kids, then you’d know.  I’m thinking moms should earn airline miles for all the diapers they change.  Hello, free trip to Paris. And the house… well, it’s experiencing neglect like never before, good thing homes don’t have feelings. 

My love for coffee has reached all new heights, as if that was possible, but whatever, we’re best friends.  Yesterday morning, I held my steaming mug in my hands and said, “coooffeeee,” sort of like a zombie, but probably more like an addict, I don’t know. Matt laughed at me.   I’m pretty sure this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done and if I ever thought that just having just one was hard work, mercy, mercy, mercy.  At times I think, yes, I’ve got this.  I can totally handle this… and then there are times when I think, “I want my mommy.” 

HOWEVER, there is this…

And half of the times that H usually says, “Hi,” throughout the day (which is a very large number) has been replaced with “baby,” and that’s pretty cute.  And he doesn’t want to go to sleep without saying good night to her.  And he loves to lie down next to her and hold her hand.  And goodness, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

… in short.  THIS IS THE CRAZIEST THING I’VE EVER DONE!

… but I couldn’t imagine life without them,

So, I will keep them, change more diapers, sleep less,  drink more coffee, and in all my exhaustion… be very very happy.

one week.

Much of the last week of my life has been spent like this and I have no complaints.  I can’t believe she’s finally here.  Of course, she’s even better than I imagined.  Some moments I look around at my little family of four and I become lost in the richness and blessing of this life.

We first laid eyes on her last Monday evening after what I consider to be a great c-section experience.  Unlike, everything leading up to the decision to have another c-section, it went smoothly and I even talked to the nurses and staff throughout the whole thing.  It sure didn’t feel like we were in surgery, but surrounded by a great group of kind people who were taking care of my and my baby.  Prior to confirming our decision to go that direction, the details were frustrating and nothing seemed to be going the way we thought it might.  I believe that everything played out this way for a reason and when that undeniable peace came, I knew everything would be fine.

And when Matt held up his hands through the glass to announce her weight of 10 pounds 3 oz, I knew we made the right decision all over again.

Within minutes of leaving the operating room, Matt and h joined me in our room and we were never separated again.  I really appreciated the way the staff placed importance on you being with your baby and working to accommodate that rather than the opposite.  With H, it was almost three hours before they brought him to my room and there was absolutely nothing wrong with him, I hated that.  But this experience, minus one major disagreement with a nurse who lives and breathes the American Pediatric Association laws, we were surrounded by kind, friendly, and helpful individuals during our entire stay.

And here we are a week later, my little lady is snuggled up on my chest, which is her absolute favorite spot to be.  I’m in love.  She’s beautiful and healthy and melting our hearts daily.  She is a great sleeper, at night I often have to wake her for feedings, I hope hope hope this is a sign of things to come.  She’s content and peaceful, except when she’s hungry (kind of like mommy).  Her brother is warming up to her more and more each day and it’s so fun to see him interact with her.  She is his baby, “bebe,” and he’s so  interested in her, while still unsure.  I would say he’s handling the change decently well, minus some acting out here and there.  And in this past week, he seems so grown up, I’m at a lost for words, wondering where my little baby boy went.  I tell him many times a day that he’s my baby too and even though he’s a big boy now, that will never change.

The actual physical recovery has been harder due to the demands of being a mommy of 2. I mean, you never realize how many times a day you reach down to pick something up, until you can’t.  But I’m trying to take it easy and the husband has been a superstar when he’s home, I’d be lost without him.  And thank the Lord for drugs, they are nice too.

At least three times a day, Matt and I look at each other and say, we have two kids, wow.

My cup runneth over.

always a camera and coffee…

Why hello, blog and friends.  I’m coming back soon.  I have stories, so many stories, plus pictures galore of endless newborn loveliness.

Things are all a bit blurry, and crazy, but honestly, this is the good stuff, these moments, and there’s always a camera and coffee nearby.

So for now, I give you a preview…

life is sweet.

Love,

one tired mama

family of four.

And now, please direct your attention to the right side of this blog, as you note the new addition to our family photos. 

1.2.3.4.   A family of four, that’s us. love.

My heart is very ooey-gooey, newborn mushy these days, I’m sure you’ll understand… We came home tonight from the hospital and I couldn’t wait any longer to add the little sweets to the blog.  Oh, the things that excite me. 

Good night to all.  I’ll sleep again one day.

why hello, lovely.

 she couldn't be more amazing.

10 lbs. 3 oz., 22 inches

We're quite smitten, although the jury is still out on what big brother thinks.  

More to come soon... there is sleep to be lost and more gazing at our little lovely.

baby growing diaries #16

Due date.

What a joke that is.  Everyone knows that the due date is just the middle of  38-42 weeks, right.  So, while it gives you an idea of when you might have a baby, it also brings false hope to the still pregnant mamas and all the adoring fans of baby.  People should put less stock in those pesky little due dates.  Stop giving them credit they don’t deserve. 

However, this morning I had my 40 week check-up, and a tiny little breakfast date with the husband (hooray) and for the love of all that is sane and holy, I got out of the house, glory. glory. glory… even if with the wind-chill it was –(insert ungodly number) degrees out there.

(Still no car here, but my mom came to the rescue for the appointment.)

Back to the story, my appointment was good, minus that number I saw on the scale.  Unfortunately, the husband says that he’s pretty sure I still wouldn’t get picked to be on the biggest loser, I beg to differ. Whatev.  Well, things are progressing in the whole body-getting-ready-department and I can live with that.  So, spirits are good today, still increasingly uncomfortable and currently movements are all rather penguin-esque, but the end is near, and not in a doom & gloom sort of way, more like, a light at the end of the tunnel.

Also, here are three things that are making my day:

1. H has started saying, baby, and it’s just about the most ridiculously precious thing we’ve ever heard.  Heart melting precious.
2. This darling birth announcement.  I‘m in love.  Except, I already have plans.
3. Most of all, ask me if I’ve had my baby yet, go ahead, ask….  ASK… and then you shall find your answer here.

40 weeks today.

baby growing diaries #15

A few night ago, at an hour much too late to be awake for a very pregnant mama and a very hardworking daddy, we were talking to H and telling her just how ready we were to meet her.  We started talking about what she will be like, her personality and such.    In my head, I already have an idea of what kind of little girl she will be.   Of course, I really can’t know until she decides to vacate her temporary home, but I’ve sort of been thinking about this for a while.  Frankly, I think she’s going to be ridiculous, funny, the silliest thing you’ve ever seen, and spilling over with personality.  Maybe, just maybe. Now, saying all of this means I’m in for a real adventure, but isn’t all of parenting that way?

To give you a better picture of the little wonder I am imagining, think Lola from Charlie & Lola meets Olivia the pig.  Now, I have always loved Olivia, (for reasons other than sharing a name) she’s hilarious and so clever.  I even started collecting the books just for myself. 

If you aren’t familiar with Lola, here’s a segment of the show, I wish it was more popular here in the States.  Honestly, I crack up every single time I watch and this started before I had any kids.  Lola is just amazing and she’s a tiny bit dramatic too.  The following video is a little long (10 minutes), but if you have the time, you’re certain to be entertained.

I just adore Charlie & Lola.

It makes me laugh just to think of h being this perfect mix of these two characters.  But, maybe she’ll be completely different, who knows.  I guess there’s only one way to find out.

baby growing diaries #14

Wednesday night, the husband and I had a romantic little night away, courtesy of the OB triage department at our local hospital. 

I had been having contractions everyday for a few hours, but they always tapered off,  Wednesday they started a 2pm and didn’t stop.  They got stronger, longer, and closer together, until they were consistently 3 minutes apart.   I called the hospital and explained my case, I also told her I that I just wanted to be sure this wasn’t just more contractions and she agreed that all the signs pointed to labor.  When she asked me how painful they were, I said, “Well, they hurt a lot.  It’s hard to move or talk and I just have to focus on breathing, but I don’t feel like I’m going to die, should I feel like I’m going to die?”  She actually laughed and said, No, but after how the evening transpired, I believe she is wrong.  I am, in fact, supposed to feel near death, if I am actually having this baby.

Note: before you get confused, yes, this is my second child, but he was born via a scheduled induction, 12 hours of laboring + epidural, and a c-section, this is a whole new game to me.

Anyways… My mom came over to watch H and we headed to the hospital.  However, we didn’t tell anyone at all, just in case, so don’t be offended.  That way, if we did get sent home, we wouldn’t have to deal with the questions and calls. 

Naturally, we had never actually visited the hospital and got a little turned around inside while searching for where exactly we need to be.  At first, we went up a set of elevators in a building connected to the hospital.  Upon the opening of the doors, this lady looked right at me and said, “We’re having  a pajama party, and we’re lost.”  To be clear… I was not in pajamas. She was not in pajamas.  I looked at her with the fierce irritation and a look that could melt ice.  Then, she proceeded to talk to me, as if she had been waiting her whole life for me to get off the elevator and join her pajama party and where in the world do we go conversation.  And she kept talking and talking, as I looked at the signs and maps, realizing we needed to go back down.  Her husband emerged from the elevator and she proceeded to tell him all about this party we were having.  I was irritated, I mean, what the…

And I take full responsibility for what happened next.  I turned to look at her and said, “Ma’am, you are the only one having this party.  WE are not having a party.  WE are not doing anything.  There is no party.”

I’m not going to lie, that felt pretty good.  I suppose it was a little harsh, but really, I’m not sorry.  I’m not.

A nurse checked us in and assessed that I was 2-3 centimeters and contractions were looking good.  So, we walked around for ages, talking about all the people we passed, gushing at the little newborns, and stopping to work through the contractions.  We returned to our little closet of a room and another doctor, who wasn’t my favorite and severely lacked bedside manor  told me that I was only dilated to 1cm and that we should just go home.  I was frustrated at the contrasting reports and “probably” took it out on her, she left and the attending OB came in and talked to us, confirmed that the magic number was actually 1, not 2-3, and that she’d actually like to just keep us for the night, let us sleep and see how things were in the morning. So, that is what we did.  Except of course, every single contraction launched me into this strange state of awareness and discomfort and then back into a deep sleep.  It was trippy.

The short version of the story is as follows:  in the morning, nothing had changed, contractions were still going, so they sent us home, thinking they might see us back again later that day. It was annoying, like insanely annoying and I was so frustrated. 

We got lattes and donuts, because at least that might help a little.  By mid afternoon, the contractions had stopped.  BORING NATION.  I even scrubbed and cleaned out my fridge, nothing.  Now all I have to show for it is a clean  fridge. I’d rather have a baby. 

This morning at my weekly appointment, I was dilated to 1.5 cm.  Honestly, what is half a centimeter?  That’s not anything.   Of course, the only real news my doctor had was, any day now.  Strangely enough, a random man at the post office told me the exact same thing.  If I would have seen him first, I could have saved an entire trip to the doctor.  Now sure, he didn’t tell me about the whole .5 centimeters thing, but for real, I could have lived without it and the method at which this tiny, tiny change in dilation was discovered. Can you say ouch? 

Oh well, at least I have a good story to share with you and now I can be a member of the “false alarm club.”  Cool.  Part of me thinks that “pajama” lady is still wandering around the hospital as lost as can be inviting guests to her imaginary party.

39 weeks.  Any day now…

baby growing diaries #13

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I packed my bags*, now what?

P.S. The last picture is my favorite.

*I should have waited longer to pack.

baby growing diaries #12

The coffee is brewing in the French Press.  In four minutes, my head will be less foggy.  The sun is beaming down on the snow covered world.  My New Year’s resolution was for winter to end, but apparently, resolutions and wishes are not interchangeable.  I don’t really make resolutions, especially in January, it’s so trendy and when things become uber trendy, I tend to want to do them even less, which may explain my great desire to end my facebook days.  I’m considering it more and more,  besides, whatever happened to the good old fashioned text and email? 

One of the handy little apps on my phone tells me I have 2 weeks and four days left until my due date.  I’m going to be honest and say that I hope that day comes a bit sooner.  This time around, I love that sense of unknown, that at any moment I could go into labor, that’s the kind of thing that drives me wild with excitement.  I suppose most people would rather wish that whole part away and pencil in the time and place for these events to occur.  That’s boring.  Those people would also be the ones who have had their hospital bags packed for weeks. Boring again.

I have… pack , umm, made a list on my phone.  I’m thinking about the idea of packing soon, but since the no-car situation leaves me on a bit of unofficial house arrest, chances are good that I’ll be home.  Packing will give me something to do later, when I’ve done every other thing I can imagine. Plus, it will take a little bit of time for my mom to arrive and stay with the boy, so I’ll be fine.

Even as I write this, I find great entertainment in knowing that my words of last minute preparation may send some of my friends into a state of shock, causing them to hop on a plane and demand to pack my bags for me… but at this point, that would be awesome.  I’ll take all the entertainment I can get.  My ultra-relaxed personality wouldn’t work for everyone, but I think that in this current situation it’s best.  I have zero control over this whole ordeal, so why pretend that I do. 

After all, I did make a list.  Plus, I have this handy contraction timer app on my phone that I’m really excited to try.   I also know that somewhere in this room, there’s a phone number to call the hospital when all systems are go.  And, in my defense, I did get the diaper bag ready so that at least she will have a cute outfit to wear home.  So pretty much, I’m half ready to go. 

So tell me, friends, what kind of person were you?  Did you have everything crossed off your list months in advance or do you embrace the excitement of the unknown?  And furthermore, when did you have your bags packed?

37.5 weeks

{Liv

Baby Growing Diaries #11

At 37 weeks, I’m running out of room in my own body.  I’m quite certain that this baby has run out of room as well.  I mean, there’s only so much space.  This could be a problem.   Also, I’m not on speaking terms with my bladder, because it’s just being oh, so ridiculous.  What’s the deal, bladder, do you think you run this joint?  Get over yourself. Oh, and I used to have ankles.  Thankfully, all of my toes are still on my feet and were not mistaken for Smokey link sausages at Christmas.  It’s good to have toes, as puffy as they may be. This also means that I don’t have any cannibals in my family and that is reassuring too.

Yesterday, my mom bought me a new shirt and cleaned my kitchen.  It was kind of like Christmas all over again.

And here’s the part where you get really jealous.  Tomorrow appears to be December 31 and I don’t know if you can handle the sheer greatness of my plans.  Are you ready?  I mean, really… are you ready?  Brace yourself.  We’re going to put the kiddo to bed at 7:30 and then spend the rest of the year, in cozy pajamas, watching a movie on the couch.  And by watching a movie, I mean, we’ll probably fall asleep by 9pm.  AMAZING, right?  I know, contain your jealousy.  The truth is this… there is nothing, nothing, not a single thing, that sounds better than sleep.  And secretly, while you pretend to be excited about wearing a cute dress to a party, drinking champagne (oh, what I’d do for a glass), and staying up super late… you wish you had a really good excuse to wear pajamas and go to sleep early too.

2011, here we come.

{Liv

baby growing diaries #10

When you are pregnant, you might hear this…

“ Get plenty of rest.  Sleep while you can, because after the baby comes...”

It seems to me, what we have here is another case of those “well-intentioned” people, who are clearly not waking up 3-5 times every night, because they took one sip of water and have to use the bathroom AGAIN or because finding a comfortable sleeping position is an all out mind-body-spirit activity that takes every ounce of your focus.  No, these people heartlessly spew out these statements from their well rested mouths and non-aching bodies, because in their delusional minds, you only start to lose sleep after baby arrives. 

What a myth.  What a lie. What nonsense.  Today, I put an end to this falsehood.

Here’s the truth.  It’s been months since I’ve slept through the night and I’m not happy about it.  Trips to the bathroom are endless.  Finding a comfortable sleeping position is nearly impossible, without losing my breath and waking up my husband.   At least twice a week, I give up and take a bath at 3 or 5 AM because I know that is my only change of easing my aching body and hoping to catch a few more hours of precious sleep.  It is a waste, I tell you. A waste of perfectly good sleep-filled nights.  Now, some other cliché slinging individual might tell you that it is nature’s way of preparing your body for the times you’ll wake up at night with baby, but you know how I feel about those clichés. 

Truthfully, nothing can prepare you for what is coming, not even these little tricks that your body tries to throw your way.  You just do it.  You’re tired, you’re exhausted, and you’re never sure what day it is or the last time you showered, but who cares, you have the cutest baby in the world and there’s coffee- there is always coffee.  You just find the super human ability to function and care for your little one(s), along with everything else that must be done.  The rest of the world fades into a blur, kind of like those trippy scenes from Across the Universe, which is a wonderful film. 

So, I ask, is it really necessary to spend these last few months before your child arrives waking up incessantly?  NO WAY.  Wouldn’t it make more sense to be able to fall asleep and rest peacefully until the morning comes?  YES.  Are you tired of these tricky little antics from your body?  YES.  Pregnant women of the world unite!

Hmmm… this is getting crazy.

I’d like to take this opportunity to send a message, loud and clear to my body.

Hey you, listen up.  I do not need to practice losing sleep. Nor do I want to practice losing sleep.  And if I must lose sleep, it should be for a  good reason, not because of my bladder’s inability to handle a tap dancing baby in utero or because soreness has taken over my life.  Frankly, I’d much rather have to wake up to care for my child instead of  losing sleep over all this other nonsense. So, stop it already.

There, I feel better. Also, the retaining water business is making me feel like giant marshmallow.

And to all of you, “sleep when you can, because when the baby comes” people…  you now know the truth…. and the truth will set you free from sharing clichés with all of the mamas and mamas to be.  We don’t need clichés, we just want sleep.

And on that note, it’s nap time.

{Liv

34.5 weeks today.

baby growing diaries #9

If you were an insect lurking in the corner of my living room, here are some random conversations that you might have heard in the past few days. 
Scene #1  Me going from the hallway to the living room, walking in between the yellow chair and my desk.

Me:  Is this chair further back than usual?
Husband:  No, I don’t think so, you’re probably just feeling larger than normal.

I pretended to be upset for two seconds, but he was right, large is the name of the game.

---

Scene #2 Sitting on the couch last night, feeling the most uncomfortable ever and in a bit of a ridiculous mood.

Me:  Babe, I don’t know, I don’t remember feeling this uncomfortable last time.
Husband: Well, you just blocked that part out of your memory, because you were. I remember.
Me:  No, I don’t think so, this is definitely worse.
Husband:  Because you have a two year old that wants to jump and climb on you all day long.  Just wait until you have a whole houseful of kids running around.
Me: Yeah, we should talk about that, because I’m pretty sure that I’m not interested in a whole houseful coming out of here.  (hand gestures involved.)  I’m don’t know how many more times I can do all of this. (more gestures).
Husband:  (Laughing.)  Well, now is certainly not the time to talk about having more kids.  I know better than that.  Well wait until she comes and she’s so cute and you forget the hard stuff all over again.  After a while, you’ll tell me you want another one.
Me:  Yeah, I don’t know.
Husband: You will.
Me: Maybe. 
Husband: You will.
Me: Probably.

He’s probably right again… maybe.

---

Go ahead and laugh.  That’s the point. Please feel free to share any amazing things your husband has send to you while pregnant, because they’ll make me laugh and forget how uncomfortable I just might be.
and by uncomfortable, I meant glowing  and radiant, excited, and getting plenty of rest, of course.
33 weeks today.

Baby growing diaries #8 Bad vs. Good Questions

This morning, I wrote a long, extremely sarcastic post about silly questions to ask pregnant ladies.  I didn’t post it, but I felt better.  I do that often, writing helps me feel better and let’s me whine a little bit, even if I don’t share it with the entire modern world.  I’m still feeling rather uncomfortable today, but I just took a nap and I feel a little more like sunshine than earlier.   Now, I  think it would be funny to share a milder version of those same thoughts. 

During my baby growing posts, I often write about the things people feel compelled to say to those who are with child.  Maybe, I hope that by sharing my feelings I can change the world or maybe I just want to make you laugh.  I think it’s both.  I never want to complain much other than to a select number of people, because I know there are many people who wish they had the chance to complain about being pregnant, and I never want to take this gift for granted…  I just want to put my spin on it all, because I write, that’s what I do. So, with that being said…

Here are a few bad questions to ask your local pregnant mama.

1.  How are you feeling?  Chances are if you’re asked this in your third trimester, what you want to say is, “Pretty much, pick any part of my body and assume that it is sore and uncomfortable.”  But, I think the people really just want to hear is this, “Oh, me, I’m glowing and radiant.”  Go ahead, give them them one of those answers and report back to me.

2. Are you excited?  This one is beyond me.  I mean, OF COURSE. YES. HELLO.  You’ve been thinking about meeting this little baby for months and months, maybe even years.  Excited doesn’t even cut it.  Pick a better question.

3.  Are you ready?  Well, at this point, that’s irrelevant.  That’s a question to ask prior to…you know, procreating.   I mean, one of these days… that baby is coming out and you’re going to be ready or you’re going to have do a really good job of pretending that you are.  I tend to believe most people do the pretending bit, but isn’t most of parenting a learn as you go sort of gig?  Ready or not… here they come.

4.  Are you getting plenty of rest?  If this is your first child, maybe you can answer yes, maybe.  BUT, if you’re growing #2 or #3 or more… this is the silliest question of all time.  I mean, do people think that just because you are pregnant your other children automatically become the low maintenance types, who only need watering once a day, like chia pets?  Really.  And furthermore, whoever writes those chapters in the pregnancy books about not lifting anything heavy must have had feathers for children.

 

See, terrible questions.  Now, let me share some questions that would be much better to ask.

1. When would you like to take a nap?
2. When can I come over and clean your bathroom?
3. What can I make you for dinner?
4. When can I come play with your toddler, so that you can rest or run errands or shower or sleep?
5. Can I wash your dishes?
6. Can I scrub your fridge or discover where that putrid smell is coming from in your kitchen?
7. Can I bring you some tiramisu?
8. What kind of cookies does your husband like?
9. What kind of latte can I pick up for you?
10. How often would you like a massage?

Those are good questions, very good ones.  They are magical, life-altering, beautiful questions that would make anyone’s day.

And now I’m finished.

31 weeks today.  Glowing and radiant.  Excited. Ready.  Getting loads and loads of rest… in case you wondered.

Happy weekend.

{Liv

baby growing diaries #7

In the third trimester, conversations with strangers about your pregnancy are rather inevitable.  Most of the time, they are generic, kind, and quickly forgotten.  Often, they are annoying and intrusive, causing you to feel the need to punch someone in the face.  But, sometimes, they memorable for altogether different reasons.  The latter happened yesterday.

(Standing at the check-out of the fabric store.)

Cashier:  When are you due?

Me:  middle of January (I like to be mysterious).

Cashier:  Oh, not too long now.  Do you know what you’re having?

Me:  A girl, which is exciting because already have a little boy.

(Note a complete change in cashier’s demeanor)

Cashier:  Oh.  The second pregnancy is not nearly as exciting as the first.

(What the???)

Me:  Well, it is more challenging, because you have another little one to take care of, but that also makes it go faster. So, it’s ok.

Cashier:  Sure, but the first time you are so excited and everything is new, so you don’t really mind all the pain, but the second time, the labor starts and you think… why did I do this again? 

Me:  (slight pause and shrug)  well, the babies are pretty great, so it’s worth it.

Cashier:  (long pause- does she really have to think about that?)  Yeah, I guess it is fun to see the little people.  Good luck.

Le fin.  (The End)

I walked out the door thinking how strange and bizarre.  But honestly, as I write this, I actually feel more sadness for this lady.  Do you get that same feeling for her? 

I mean, I know challenges of pregnancy and the pain of childbirth, but like most people, those things quickly fade into jubilation with the first glimpse of that sweet little love.  I did not get this from our cashier.  I don’t know anything about her, but if I,  in sixty seconds, could notice these  sentiments, there must be a story… and whatever it is, my heart goes out to her today.

 

30 weeks tomorrow. 

{Liv

baby growing diaries #6 a P.S.A.

It is said that the best writing comes from one’s own life, with that being said, the following could have absolutely nothing to do with me, because nothing like this would ever happen in the real world.

Obviously, growing a baby is a miraculous, beautiful time, full of expectation and wonder, dreaming about that little bundle that is developing more each day into an amazing individual.  You dream about who they will be and all the things you’ll do together.  You read reviews and hunt down the perfect items that you’ll need for that little wonder.  You decorate their room in excitement and delight.  You study the best methods and plans for your delivery and learn as much as you can about raising a happy, healthy child.  And you spend hours considering the absolute best name for this child, because a name is an important thing.  A name is something they will carry for the rest of their lives.  It has meaning and significance and comes to hold great endearing value.  For some people, the name search can take one day and for others it lasts until the baby is already days old, whatever the case, it’s a big deal.  But in that moment when the full name comes together, a sense of knowing comes upon you and inside something says, yes, that is it.

Alas, baby growing does come with its challenges, for some the constant sickness, the aversion to anything strange or normal, the nausea, the exhaustion, the discomfort, the glucose tolerance test, and people telling you to avoid sushi and soft cheeses.   And while these things can be difficult, we gladly endure because we know the end result.

Oh, but there is another set of challenges which have very little to do with how your body handles pregnancy, we’ll call this one, the beautiful people of the world… The beautiful people of the world, strangers who invade your personal space and dare to touch your enlarged belly, when shaking hands isn’t even something you would do.  The beautiful people of the world who start a conversation about your most private body parts as if they were a cute pair of shoes.  The beautiful people of the world who then tell you stories about their most private body parts and why you should do things just as they did themselves when having children.  And, the beautiful people of the world who think that you really need their help when it comes to naming your baby, because you obviously just threw some names into a hat, picked one out, shrugged and say, well why not. 

In that moment, they believe that it matters if they love or hate the name that you have pondered and said aloud and written out over and over and over again.  They spew out rude and inconsiderate statements not even considering that you have come to love that name just as much as you love the baby growing inside of you.    And as they do this, you stand there, forcing deep calming breaths and holding back the kindest of words, as an all-together fake smile smears across your face and you find the quickest way out of that conversation.  You walk away frustrated and irritated while these people believe they have done you a favor.

It’s no wonder why more and more people are not revealing their name choices until the baby is born, keeping secrets from their friends and families, because it is more likely that the ones closest to us will be the most free with their unkind and unsolicited opinions. 

A quick Google search revealed that over 4,000,000 babies are born each year,  and after the initial questions of when are you due and are you having a boy or a girl, the next thing most people ask is, do you have a name yet? So, if this conversation happened only once (and obviously, it happens more) to each pregnant momma, that means that there is a 50/50 chance of over 4,000,000 cases of rude, unsolicited opinions being thoughtlessly regurgitated into the universe.  That is a lot of negative energy.  That is a lot of unnecessary frustration displaced onto the parents of the world, who have a very difficult task ahead of them.  And there is no reason for it.

So, if you want to make the world a better place, consider this little Public Service Announcement.

Unless a parent-to-be actually says the following words to you personally, “What is your opinion about the name we have chosen for our baby?”  then please, please, just keep those negative feelings to yourself and find something kind to say instead.  If you just need to share your thoughts on the subject, tell your spouse, or your co-worker, or even your dog, but never, ever the one with child.

These parents have spent a great deal of time choosing their very favorite name for this child, there is no need for you to accept or reject this decision.   It’s a very important and meaningful thing. It’s not about  you.  Not one bit.  I repeat, it’s not about you.  If you haven’t had children yet, you’ll get your chance.  If you are a parent, then you had your chance.  If you need to name something else, buy a goldfish or a dog.  Name your car.  Name your horse.  Name your lawn mower.  The possibilities are endless, but for the love, keep your opinions to yourself, unless it is a positive, happy, supportive, and encouraging one.  Especially if you are a relative or a friend to the expecting parent, your words have greater power to bless or frustrate and what you say will be remembered.  If you are a stranger, you’ll probably never meet that child, so what does it matter if you don’t like the name.

We’ve all been told, if you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all.  I am quite sure this saying doesn’t have an expiration date.  It’s a lifetime of truth and wisdom.

And on behalf of all the mommy’s and daddy’s to be, I conclude this P.S.A.  Thank you for helping make this world a happier place.

dear harper baby

Last night, we climbed into the rocking chair and I read your brother, Hudson, a story, “The Little Engine That Could.” As the toys and animals asked the engines to take them over the mountain, I used a different voice for each train.  H laughed so hard that he could hardly breathe.  Every single time.  It was the best.  The kind of laugh that becomes silent because your entire being is affected.

And with every all-consuming giggle from your brother who was snuggled in as close as possible, infringing on what you might call your space, you gave a little nudge.    It was the sweetest thing.  Maybe you thought it was funny too or perhaps you were feeling a little squished. 

Either way, my little H’s, we’re going to have lots of fun, I just know it.

26 weeks today.

{Liv

baby growing diaries #5

This post could also be titled:

1. My rebel subconscious.

2. I never know the date.

This morning when I woke up 15 minutes than I prefer, I checked my phone and noticed a calendar notification.  I glanced at it briefly and dismissed it, since it was for my doctor’s appointment tomorrow, October 13th, no need to worry about that today.  I continued  to go along with the important matters of the morning, 42 kisses for the little boy, a cute text to the husband,  grind the coffee, a little orange juice, etc.

As I listened to the theme song  from Super Why for the 1,200,300th time, I asked my pre-caffeinated self, why would my notification for TOMORROW’S appointment come up today.  I have all my appointments for the rest of the year scheduled on Thursday mornings.  (Because, I’m awake anyways and I find that if you schedule them for early morning you have been a better chance of actually seeing your doctor around that time.  The second time around, I’m a smarter mama and OB patient.)

I kept thinking, “Tomorrow the 13th, tomorrow the 13th… tomorrow is the thirteenth right?”  I then realized, I had absolutely no idea what today’s date was (and truthfully, I rarely ever do.)  So, I referred to the only calendar in the entire place, on my little smartie alien phone… and I learned something, today is the 13th.  In case you were wondering, today is October 13th. You probably knew that because you have jobs or schedules or you’re obsessive like some people I know and have calendars everywhere.  I don’t have those things.

Moral of this story: I missed my appointment.  But here’s what you don’t know.  I’m not sad, not even the tiniest bit, because I didn’t want to go.  My subconscious knew this and saved me from today, because this morning was the dreaded, the detestable, the torture of tortures regarding OB visits… the glucose tolerance test.

(And all the mama’s said ugh.)

For those of you innocent of its terrors, they make you drink an entire bottle of this horrid, nasty, sweetest sugar drink known to mankind, in a color that is surely not found anywhere in nature. For an hour you can’t have anything else to wash that putrid taste from you lips (and you feel high on sugar, because it’s more than you consume in a lifetime)  and then they take your blood.  Supposedly this is a test for gestational diabetes, but I think it’s just to torture us… not like we’re not dealing with enough here…  I personally vote that this whole practice be banned and replaced with a 1 hour prenatal massage test.  You are given a massage and then if you feel better, you pass… if you don’t feel better, you get another massage.  Who’s with me on this? Pass or fail… not a bad deal.

Anyways, that is what I missed this morning and now I have more time to come up with a legit excuse to not take it.  Here’s what I have so far:

• I’m allergic to glucose.
• I’m scared of glucose.
• I think glucose is an ugly sounding word.
• I’m allergic to tests.

• I’m don’t drink soda.
• It’s against my religion.
• It’s against my political views.
• It’s against my ethics.
• It’s against my marriage vows.
• It’s against my wishes.
• My dog ate my homework.
• It’s not me, it’s you.
• Let’s just be friends.
• I took that test last time and I passed.  I can get proof.
• I don’t want my baby to have that much sugar.
• Thousands of women have had babies without taking this test.
• The Virgin Mary surely didn’t have to drink that.
• I want a lawyer.
• I have to wash my hair.
• You’re not the boss of me.

and if all of those fail… I’m going to  ask if there is a sugary Starbucks drink that I could have instead.

For today, I’m safe from the evils of that terrifying liquid and all is well, but if you have any excuses that will actually get me out of taking the test, please share… because unfortunately, next week I have a rescheduled date with the glucose.

25 weeks, 5 days.

Note:  Please realize that I’m being mostly silly and ridiculous, as I’m sure there is a real medical reason they force this test upon us…. and things like gestational diabetes are not a joke.  It’s just that, the glucose tolerance test is so awful and I hate it.  Thanks.

{Liv

baby growing diaries #5

What?  This is the first photo you’ve seen of pregnant me, how shocking!  How bizarre.  I mean, what an outrage.

Clearly, when it comes to belly-shot-sharing and other sharing, there are two kinds of people, those who do and those who don’t.  And since this is the first photo you’ve seen, it’s obvious which group I am in.   I have absolutely nothing against the other group, because I would never want to discredit the joys and excitement of documenting the wonderful journey of pregnancy ever.  EVER.  It’s really an incredible process, the beauty of a precious life growing inside of you.   So, take all the pictures you want, record every detail, share anything you want, it’s not about me.

But if I get my say about how I share and document my own baby growing adventures… which I do… I certainly have an opinion or two or four.

For example:

Don’t expect to find tons of maternity photos here.  I prefer taking pictures of fall leaves, sunsets, random inspiration, and a rather delightful, almost 2 year old… not so much my exposed or unexposed abdomen.  Asking for photos won’t increase the chances of them appearing, so in case you needed proof that I am pregnant… trust me, I am.

If you wondering if I want to you rub my growing belly, chances are  a huge resounding, no.  Unless, you actually created this child with me or happen to be a sibling to this baby,  I’m good with no touching.  I mean, would you want me to rub your un-pregnant belly?  No, really?  Strange.  But, you could buy me a latte, never a mocha, or make cookies, or write a sweet note to the baby, which I will be sure to save and read aloud to her.  Those are wonderful alternatives.

It is also unlikely that you will find extensive details about how little miss h arrives, namely the graphic, intricate, “fluid-related” bits.  If you’re really curious, there is a video called the miracle of life or something… or there’s a good chance that at any moment, you could turn on TLC and see someone delivering a baby.  Further, I won’t be sending out any invites to join me in the delivery room on that wonderful day, the husband is all the company I need.  I just feel like it’s our moment and I generally like seeing people when I’m clean, showered, and well, not experiencing some of the greatest pains known to humanity.  I do, however, enjoy visitors who come after the major event and who stay for appropriate (short) amounts of time.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that while I enjoy sharing memories and pieces of my life very much, I’m a bit more private when it comes to pregnancy and child birth. 

But there are some things that I am more than willing to share such as…

how wonderful it is to feel my baby moving inside of me, hearing that heartbeat on the monitor, thinking about the person she’ll be.

how excited we are to meet her and become a family of four.

news of her blessed arrival.

photos galore of the little lady.

and endless adventures together.

So, thanks for listening to my little story. In case you ever wondered where are the photos? what are the details?

… now you know.

{Liv