Month Twenty Four and Twenty Five

Dear Jack,

I apologize for the double post, you see, your mother was not in her right mind for most of June through September because most of the blood in my body was concentrated in my stomach. I am not sure if that is the reason pregnant women become loopy and absentminded and just plain dense for the latter part of their pregnancy, but one day when your own wife is pregnant you will be able to experience it first hand and fully understand and forgive my tardiness.

Last month you turned two years old. It is hard to believe that almost three years ago, my life was set into motion to change forever. And now, every day that passes I see you grow more and more towards being a little boy and further and further away from being my baby. Sure I am excited to see you grow into a little man and to see what kind of adult you will become, but I am not ready for time to get away from me just yet. I am not ready for you to stop wanting me to kiss your "ouchies", you asking if you can hold me, and I will even miss being followed into the bathroom everytime I have to pee. And, while I know that I still have quite a bit of time left, I find it unfair that so much seems to pass just when I blink my eyes. So, if you don't mind, I would appreciate it if you would stop calling me "mom" and just refer to me as "mommy" for the next couple of years.

Another big event recently was the birth of your sister, Grace. Your first reaction to her when you came to visit us in the hospital was, "No, that's not Grace". I think you were expecting someone different, someone more your size and not someone so "boring" who slept, ate, and needed held by your mommy and daddy all the live long day. While you are extremely attached to me right now and occasionally fake cry like an infant, you are taking this change a lot better than I was afraid you might. You like to give her hugs, concern yourself with her cries, and are always quick to offer her binkie when she is upset. You just need to learn a little gentless and a little patience, but overall you are already a fantastic big brother.

Sadly, with life always comes loss. Right before the birth of your sister, my papa, your great grandfather passed away. I am sad that you will neve get to truly know him, and that he was never able to meet Grace. He was an amazing man and lived a life that has extended to you a legacy. Although we may never know the whole story or all of the details, he was able to escape from Nazi Germany during the holocaust. He lost everything: his family, his wealth, his home. He came over here with nothing but the clothes on his back and was able to build a successful life and more importantly, create a family. It is amazing to think that if anything would have gone differently, your grammy would not be here, I would not be here and neither would you or your sister.

Unfairly, the last several years of his life he was ill and in a lot of pain and discomfort. He never complained, and once said that if this is what god had dealt him than he would deal with it. He was the epitamy of determination, strength, intelligence and integrity and set the bar high for the rest of us. I hope that we can make his memory proud by living honestly, strongly, and by cherishing one another every day.

With the birth of your sister and the death of my papa, I have found myself thinking a lot lately over life and death. I have been thinking a lot about how lucky we are and how blessed our family is. One of the greatest things my parents taught me was to be grateful for what you have and to appreciate the little things. I hope I can pass that lesson on to you as well. And, even though you do not realize it now, we have given you a wonderful gift with the birth of your sister- the gift of family and a friend for life. The two of you need to look out for one another, take care of eachother, and always be there for one another. Family is so important- We may not have everything in life, but as long as we have eachother, we do not need to.

Love,

Mommy

She's Here!!

I received a wonderful birthday present from my doctor this year- an induction!!! The hubby and I went down on September 15th, early squirrely, and at 730am I was hooked up to the pitocin and labor was started. I was still only 1+ cm and 70% effaced, which means there is a good chance I would have made it to my due date and - who knows- I might be sitting here now STILL pregnant. I can not even wrap my mind around that...it makes my brain hurt.

The whole day went relatively fast- I contracted for HOURS, and they were uncomfortable and somewhat intense but still very bearable. After feeling that, I truly believe I would not have known if I was in real labor if I had waited because my contractions throughout the three weeks prior to being induced had been much more intense and painful. By noon, I was only 3cm and when they checked me at 4pm I was still the same. They finally broke my water and I immediately requested an epidural because I remembered how I felt a half hour after they broke my water with Jack and frankily I was not in the mood to feel like my pelvis was being ripped out of my body. I am so happy I had enough sense to do that, because literally within five minutes my body felt like it was eating itself. God bless Mr. Epidural. I toughed it out all day, but I am not into self torture. I do not sit around my family room bashing a hammer into my pelvis to pass the time, and therefore I refuse to put myself through extended amounts of UNNECESSARY pain. Do not get me wrong, rock on ladies who tough it out and are mentally bad ass enough to breath through the agony. However, I have had a child before, and I know you do not get upgraded to the presidential suite in the maternity ward for opting to take on the pain. It felt like it took ten years for her to put in the epidural, maybe that is because I was trying to hold still and try to ignore the pain of my body splitting in half every 2 1/2 minutes. Once it was in and the meds were powered on...."Angels Singing". Glorious...and my hospital provided the continuous drip which guarantees no pain through the duration of the labor.

Around ten to six, my doctor checked me again, and in only an hour and a half I had progressed to 6cm. Around five after six, my nurse came in and decided to check my progress "for the fun of it". As soon as she began to check she said "Oh my, there's a baby there". Turns out I was ready. Five minutes later I was pushing, and ten minutes later little Grace Madelyn Logue was born. I have been so lucky with the duration at which I have to actually push. I hear stories of women who pushed for hours. With Jack it was only 30 mins and with Grace only 10.

I did not realize how truly uncomfortable I had been the last month until I was not pregnant anymore. I feel like a new person. I feel like myself again. Yes, I am tired, but it is a good tired...a rewarding tired. I feel wonderful. Being a mom of two is definitely a whole new ball game, but one that is laced with experience and confidence. I truly believe half of what makes this easier this time around is knowing what to expect. Sure, I am hormonal and get weepy and I am having emotional issues dealing with this mild jaundice Grace has (clearing up nicely, I am just a worry wart)but I feel like I have control this time. Not to mention, having my husband home this time has been the best part- I am not alone. Just knowing someone else is there is extrememly reassuring and comforting.

So will I do it again? Yes. It would be too weird to think that was last time I was ever going to be pregnant or welcoming a new baby into our family, even knowing the last month of this pregnancy could repeat itself. There is nothing like the moment your baby is born and placed on your chest and you hear them cry and get to touch, see and hear them for the first time. The saturation of emotions that rush in instantaneously is indescribible and it is an uncomparable experience that changes you forever. People would ask me while I was pregnant this second time around if I worry about how I am going to love this new child as much as I already love my first. It is something I wondered about, but never really worried about. I love my little girl more than life itself, and with her only came a greater love and appreciation for my son and husband. A mother's heart can never be too full of love, and just when she thinks it is her little boy asks if he can hold her, she catches the scent of her newborn baby girl, or she sees her husband craddling her children and she feels it grow a little more only to fear that one day her chest just might burst.

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