There is a light!

Monday morning my consistent crampiness decided to take it up a notch. It leveled off for the remainder of the day and all day yesterday as well. This morning, they decided to kick it up another notch....BAM! (Apparently Emeril is controlling the last month of my pregnancy?) They are intense enough to disrupt my concentration and I have begun to feel sick from it. I had my weekly check-up this morning, but no change- still 1+ and 70% effaced. I began to cry. Yep...I cried like a little baby there in the doctor's office. I feel so blessed the the first eight months of the pregnancy were so easy and uneventful, but this last month is giving me a run for my money. It has not become only physically exhausting, but also mentally and emotionally draining. To my pleasant surprise, my doctor is giving me a birthday present. If the baby does not come in the next few days on her own, I am being induced on the 15th at 730am (Happy 25th Birthday to me!). I still feel like I was hit by a bus, but knowing that I only have two more days of work left and that I will not have to go two more weeks like this has padded some of the mental and emotional discomfort. I am really excited and really anxious. I just hope my body calms down a little bit before then so I can get some rest before next week.

A long time coming...

I have written this post about ten times- the post where I complain to the world about how miserable I feel. The post where I vent and vent and vent about how uncomfortable I am. However, everytime I write it, I press the "save now" button instead of the "publish post" tab. I suppose I never publish it, because I whine enough in my head and to my husband and to my family and my coworkers and to any jim, bob, or harry that asks me the time on the street.

Jim, Bob, or Harry: "Excuse me mam, do you have the time"
Me: "SIX MORE WEEKS!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

After I write the post, I feel some satisfaction and do not allow my discomfort to stain the web. I never thought I had a real reason to complain- I was not going through anything different than any other pregnant woman goes through in the last few months. I was tired- who isnt. I was peeing every six seconds- so is every other prego. My feet hurt - at least I have feet, right? Well...the tides have turned and now I feel like I have justification to moan and gripe and vent like a furnace.

On Satruday morning, I started to have contractions. Nothing close, but annoying enough and they lasted all day. Sunday- they continued. By Sunday night, not only was I still having them but it started to hurt to breathe. I still had not called the doctor because I refused to be the girl who cried "labor". Plus, I could still function normally, just with some additional whincing. Monday came, and by 2pm I was over-it. I called my doctor, prefacing my story with "I was really hesitant to call, but..." Soon, I had been sent to the hospital. I had to get a CT Scan, because apparently my strained and pained breathing could be a result of blood clots that formed in my pelvis during pregnancy and traveled to my lungs. Lungs are clear, and the doctor made sure to also tell me I was not constipated...thanks doc, I could have told you that. After I was cleared downstairs, I was sent up to Labor and Delivery. They hooked me up to the monitors and it turns out I was contracting...little ones, but they were there and I was validated!!!! Within the next hour, they jumped to two - three minute intervals and very intense. They gave me a shot to stop them, and since then I have been in a state of constant crampiness and discomfort ever since.

I just got back from the doctor- the whole drive back I was on the verge of tears. Still not dilated and still crampy and miserable. I could be like this for the next four weeks. If I was sure feeling like this would guarantee that I would deliver sooner, than I might be emotionally ok with it- but knowing I could still go to my due date and feel like this the entire time just feels like dreadful torture. My doctor told me to have a glass of wine before bed to help me sleep tonight, because the baby has developed as much as she is going to at this point and the rest of the time is just a weight game (excuse me doctor, if that was the case, why did you stop my labor on Monday...thanks).

So here I am, more uncomfortable than the average prego...hoping and praying that I do not have to feel like this for another four weeks.

Being a mom- broken heart cause #0142

Our new neighborhood is wonderful, quiet and full of very nice people. Jack is the youngest child on our street- the closest in age is our next door neighbor's little boy who is four, almost five and Jack will only be two in two weeks.

Jack is always excited to see the little boy, and always says his name and wants to play with him. He does, but what Jack does not understand and neither does the other little boy, is that Jack is still very much a baby. Sure he is a little boy and he walks and talks and runs around and plays, but his legs can only run so fast and his understanding and imagination are still very young. Often times when the little boy next door comes over and plays, it is usually around Jack. I always feel bad for Jack, because he is always trying to keep up and play with him, but he inevitabley seems to get left out because he is still so little.

On Thursday night, we were talking with the neighbors and the little boy next door came over to "play" with Jack with another little four year old girl who also lives on our street. Jack was soaked from head-to-toe after "helping" me water the flowers, and since it was getting darker I decided he needed to be changed into some dry clothes. The kids were at the back of the yard catching lightning bugs, and as I went over I heard them tell Jack that he could not catch the lightning bugs because he was "too small". I brought Jack inside for a moment, and as I was redressing him to go back outside he began talking about something being small. It took me a minute to figure out he was saying "I too small". Between the pregnancy hormones and hearing my little boy repeat what was said to him, I almost burst into tears right there. Whether he understand what it meant or not, I can not be positive, but my heart definitely broke into a million pieces. As he would repeat the phrase whilst expressing a super serious face, I would counter it everytime by telling him he was not too small at all and that he was a big boy.

As any parent, I want my child to be included and to be welcomed. I think about my fun loving, silly, wonderful and playful little boy and I want nothing more than as a parent but for other people-especially other children- to recognize and appreciate that as well.

As innocent as that situation may have been, it could not stop my heart from feeling like it was sucker punched in the gut. I think one of the most vulnerable feelings about being a parent is knowing that even when you are around, you can not protect your child from everything. Things are going to happen whether you like it or not. I can not be there with him every second of the day, and even if I am with him I know that in most situations I need to let things happen and that I can only step-in under certain circumstances. I just hope and pray that I can at least be a comfort and cure rather than a bandaid that simply provides a temporary cover.

Annabelle or Lamp Shade?

Choosing a name for your future child is probably one of the most exciting- and sometimes overwhelming-things about pregnancy. Well, for me at least. You get to choose the name your child will carry with them for the rest of their life, assuming they do not hate it so much that they stomp on your heart and legally change it themselves.

When I was pregnant with Jack, the husband and I knew what name we wanted immediately. He suggested it, I loved it, so it would be. Choosing Grace's name was not as easy. It took a lot more consideration and throwing names back and forth (Well mostly me throwing them and my husband saying "no"). I would watch T.V., listen to songs, read books, and stare at waitress' name tags for inspiration. Godforbid this baby turn out to be a boy, because there is a good chance I'll be inspired by my cereal one morning in the hospital and throw "Tucan Sam" on the birth certificate.

After going through the first pregnancy, and receiving a different reaction everytime someone asked me what we were planning on naming the baby, I was a little hesitant about divulging number two's name. I did not enjoy the contorted faces people would display as I revealed to them my first born's name. It was if I farted in their face with words. I have known people who have actually changed the name they wanted to name their child because of reactions alone.

I still get the same fart wrenched faces among those I reveal number two's name to. I have come to like and appreciate names that are classic, names that have stood the test of time. Names that my kids can take with them through the different stages in their lives. I put a lot of thought into the process, and so when someone gives me a forced "oh, that's nice", I want to rip off their face (or sit and cry, depending on my mood).

So, the moral of the story is that when I am pregnant with number three NO ONE is learning his or her name until the day he or she enters the world. It is I who has to carry the little bugger for nine months, I who has to suffer the stretch marks and weight gain, and I(and my husband) who have to suffer the hormones and sleepless nights and getting spit up and peed on and who can't shower for three days straight- so we can name them whatever the hell we want. Lamp Shade.

Month 23

Dear Jack,

A week ago, you hit Month 23- almost officially a toddler. When I compare your age to my pregnancy, you somehow seem to be growing a lot faster than my pregnancy is progressing; quite the paradox.

We have begun to transition our home and family in preparation for the arrival of your sister. This month, you said good-bye to your crib and embarked on the "big boy" bed. To my pleasant surprise, you did not miss the crib at all. Even when you do not want to go to bed (which is everytime bedtime rolls around), you stay put and have only dared to leave the boundaries of the mattress once.

Aside from the success of the crib, we have been preparing the baby's room for her arrival. As I organized clothing and bedding, you would climb into the vibrating seat, swing, bassinet, and play with the toys- too bad you did not show that much interest in those things when you were small enough to use them. Regardless, I feel like it is a sign that we are going to have to make sure we affirm with you every day how special you are to us, how much we love you and that you are still and will always be our baby. You have been the center of our attention for almost two years, and I know the addition of another member sharing that attention is going to be a transition. Right now, you are content with her being in mommy's tummy. I am not sure if you actually understand that there is an actual baby inside my tummy, or if you think she's just mommy and daddy's imaginary friend.

When we are not preparing for the baby's arrival, we are watching you grow and develop and talk our ears off. Your father has started to teach you your ABC's, and numbers and you are doing very well, although we have to keep reminding you that to get to "ten" the path does not go "one, two, three, four, six, eight, CAR!"

This morning I was woken up to you and your father going through the house- a pleasant change of pace for a Thursday before work. You grew an attachment to your rubber ducks in the bathtub last night (telling them to kiss one another and making them swim). Your friendship continued this morning, and as I got ready for work, I watched and listened as you tucked them into your bed and told them to go to sleep and not to come out of the bed and that you loved them and would see them later. Then you told me that they were hungry, and together the three of you enjoyed a bowl of Sloop-loops (fruit loops) at the kitchen table- you had your bowl and the ducks even had their own small bowl and OF COURSE the ducks had to have milk on their cereal. I laughed the whole morning, another wonderful way to start a thursday. I am always fascinated by your interpretations of us- whether it be tucking your ducks in bed, talking to an imaginary friend on one of our cellphones, or randomly repeating phrases we frequent throughout your everyday jargon. Children are like sponges, and it is always the small things we do that you notice and absorb the most. You are always watching and always paying attention. From brushing our teeth to kissing your hurt finger, we are constant role models for the foundation of who you are and who you will become. Even before you were born, I would fret over how to mold you into a good, honest, kind, well-rounded person. I am beginning to understand that all I need to do is to try and set that example for you everyday within myself and hope that you absorb all of those things as well. Thank you for making me want to always be a better mother, wife, daughter, sister, friend and human being.

Love,

Mommy

30 Weeks and two days

(http://pregnancy.baby-gaga.com/cartoons/cartoon30)


Thirty weeks and two days (I deserve those two days and I am going to mark my territory all over them). It seems like the light at the end of the tunnel does not appear until you are out of the twenties. The weeks in the twenties seem to last FOREVER. Simply put, they are the bastard child of pregnancy.

Thirty weeks and in the home stretch, I am beginning to become a little nervous. Every pregnancy is different, this one being no expception. I have been a lot calmer this pregnancy- much less paranoid, have not gained as much weight as quickly, did not have to wear a cathetar for a week, the smell of popcorn makes me want to vomit, the baby is much more active than Jack ever was, etc etc etc. I want the baby to come early, but that also means I will not be prepared. I did not love that Jack was two days late, but looking back- being induced was REALLY convenient. It was like pregnancy fit right in with my schedule. I was able to get everything at work ready for my absence, I was able to shower and freshen up, I was able to have all of my stuff ready for the hospital, I was able to be at the hospital and casually put into labor, I was able to request an epidural when I needed it and have it so it lasted through the entire labor...it was like "BK-Have it your way" day. I am so worried that I will go into labor at work or in the middle of Wal-mart, I won't be ready for anything, either "A" I won't make it to the hospital in time and Bill will have to deliver the baby on the side of I-79, "B" I will not make it to the hospital in time for the epidural and will have to FEEL EVERYTHING, "C" my labor will be so long that the epidural will have worn off and I will have to FEEL EVERYTHING, "D" I will have to get a C-section and have a GIANT SCAR and the medication will wear off and I will FEEL EVERYTHING, and that Grace is really a boy and not a girl and he will have to live in a purple room and wear pink flowered onsies because GOSH DARNIT I bought those onsies and SOMEONE is going to wear them. Pant pant pant pant pant...sigh.

I need a drink. In fact, if someone would like to buy ME a baby present, you can bring a bottle of kahlua to the hospital when I deliver and I will drink it on the way home in the car while I comfort my new little baby boy GRACE who CROSS DRESSES.

Month 22

Dear Jack,

Since I slacked on Month 21, I thought I would try to make-up for it by keeping up with Month 22. Not to mention, you have grown about 10 years in the last 2 weeks and I need to try and keep up.

Your obsession with cars in the last two weeks is unparalleled by you love of anything else. You take them everywhere, and more recently have decided their hard-cold metal structures make the perfect cuddling companion while you sleep. You are all boy, my son.

You have also become quite the little mocking bird, and relish in repeating everything we say as soon as we say it- which is why your father and I have had to eliminate 57% of our vocabulary. You are not just repeating single words anymore, either, but entire phrases. About a week ago, you and I were driving out of the Walmart parking lot and a car cut us off. I retaliated with a "Are you kidding me?" You immediatly replied, and continued to repeat for the next 5 minutes "You kiddin' me?". Which is a perfect example of why I have installed extra filters between my brain and my mouth.

I am not the bragging kind of mother, but I have to say that your fascination and uncanny observation for details is quite impressive. You seem pick-up things we tell you relatively quickly, and you even have the ability to connect your own associations with that information. For instance, your Uncle Jason is a police officer. You have never seen him in his uniform, nor have you seen him in a police car. In fact, no one has ever pointed to a random police car and said his name. However, everytime you see a police car you say "Jason car". On Monday night, we were sitting outside and a police siren went off in the distance and you, once again, said his name. I have no idea how were able to make the connection between Uncle Jason and police car, let alone the connection between a siren and a police car and Uncle Jason. You little smarty pants.

Since it is always important to remain modest, I will offset the previous paragraph with this next little gem. The other day, as you were getting out of the tub, you pointed to your little man part and asked, "Mommy, what's dat?" And, I just laughed and laughed- which is probably something that will affect your self esteem for the rest of your life, become a recurring topic of discussion with your future therapist, and the inspire the title of your memoirs- "I pointed to my private parts and all my mother did was laugh".

It is my job to be your biggest cheerleader and the person that will embarass you the most. It is not easy, but someone has to do it.

Love,

Mommy