“The truth is I don’t really even like camels”

We went to the mall to let Wren run off some energy in the play area yesterday, and I had the most awkward conversation with a five year old. Here it is:

Little girl: What’s in your belly?

Me: A baby.

Little girl: People with big stomachs look funny.

Me: Uh, thanks?

Little girl: The truth is I don’t really even like camels.

Me: Okay.

Little girl: Can I take your daughter for a ride?

Me: No.

I’m not completely sure about how I reminded this child of a camel, but I have to admit it was odd to have a conversation that was weirder than the ones I already had last week or anticipate this week. All my conversations last week stemmed around three questions: You’re still pregnant? Well, is my abdomen still protruding beyond what’s normal for the average human being? Then the answer is yes. When is the baby coming? Hold on, let me get my crystal ball out and give you an exact date! Where is the baby? With this one, I just look at my stomach then back at the individual who asked and shrug. I mean, really?

People are concerned and get nervous when there’s no plan, and the last few days have been evidence of that. Parents have the option to get their kids into the world by a ton of means, and I guess that’s okay. It’s just with all the planned inductions, life becomes a little harder for us wait it out types. No one has a clue what to do when the due date passes and the baby is still not here. They all want my contingency plan. Currently, we don’t have one. I have never seen anyone stay pregnant forever, so I do believe Samuel will come out. That’s about it.

I do admit that I am human and have been very tempted to jump on the proactive planning train, especially lately. Words like “fluid dip”, “c-section”, and “zero dilation” are not wonderful to hear when we want no drugs, no surgery, and absolutely no medical intervention short of being provided a hospital bed to birth near. But I cannot focus on the what-ifs or try to lay out a concrete road for how this birth is going to go. It’s pointless, it stresses me out, and stress does not lead to labor. My doctor, as previously mentioned, is amazing! She trusts me, she trusts Sam, and she is all about a woman’s body and its ability to birth. IF, and I pray it does not come to this, I end up with a c-section it will be because Samuel needs it. Otherwise, she’s content to let me ride this out as long as he is. Being that we are cut from the same strong-willed cloth, we may be waiting a while.

So as I somewhat dread going back to work tomorrow, I’m trying to look for ways to make it entertaining for myself. I think when people ask if I’m still pregnant I’m going to say no and give them indignant looks. I might fake going into labor during my classes just to make my 8th graders squirm. Some of the things they do give me nausea, so I think it’s fair. I am fully planning on wearing a sign taped to my stomach that says, “Yes, I’m still here and still pregnant.” My hope is that if I make the answer that obvious I can avoid answering the same question all day. Not having to answer the questions will help to avoid throwing me into thinking about all the what-ifs and messing up my zen mama calm. And if all else fails, I’m just going to take a cue from the five year old and say, “the truth is I don’t really even like camels.” Everybody will think I’m nuts, but I’m pretty sure the question and answer portion of my day will come to an abrupt end.

In all honestly, I may try all the above mentioned strategies. However, I'm also going to work on being more grateful for people who stop and care enough to ask how I'm doing. I'm lucky to have them. They're better than camels.

A letter

Dear Contractions,

I am not trying to tell you how to live your life or do your job. However, your recent choice to just drop in and out of my life, cause me pain, and not offer anything(a baby!) in return has not gone unnoticed. I feel it’s come to a point where I have to say something.

Consistency is key in relationships. Deciding to conveniently appear Monday at my doctor’s appointment and cause me to have to stay on the NST machine for over an hour was not cool. I also did not appreciate you setting off the NST machine’s alarm. I’m still not exactly sure how you did that. It would have been fine if you had kept appearing regularly, but no, you just stopped. When you then waited until later that night to appear and interrupt my sleep, I tried to understand. It was very inconsiderate though.

Last night you made me try three yoga positions at 11 pm before I could get comfortable. You popped in twice at consistent intervals, then you just dropped off. I am grateful for the night of sleep you finally decided to offer me, but after standing on my head, flipping on both sides, and squeezing the crud out of my husband, I thought this was the real thing.

Know that I’ve waited for you for a long time and am grateful you’re here. I’m just a commitment girl; I need to know you’re going to hang around and our relationship is going to result in something beautiful(the delivery of my baby) as opposed to just hurt, sleepless nights, and never-ending doctor’s appointments. You don’t seem to consider any of this. You are so unaffected. Please consider my feelings before you play with my emotions and my uterus. That’s all I’m asking for.

Sincerely,
Kristy

Waiting

Dread permeated the air. I felt it before I even entered the building. Returning from a break to resume business as usual at school is never easy, and the looks on the faces of my students made it clear that they were not going to jump right back in, ready to learn. In an effort to cheer up my first period, I reminded them that we only have three weeks left until winter break. After sharing this news and putting on my best smile, one of my more pessimistic boys dropped his head down on his desk so hard I thought he might have given himself a concussion. When I asked him why this was bad news he said, “Because I thought we only had two weeks.”

It seems we’re all waiting for something, and patience isn’t a game any of us are good at as far as I can tell. I know for a fact that I am not a picture of stillness and calm right now. On my waiting for list are the following:

Waiting for Sammy to arrive

Waiting to discontinue the daycare drop off while Wren is home with me after Sammy arrives

Waiting for Dennis to finish finals and graduate(keep your fingers crossed, Wednesday should be the last day)

Waiting for Wren to get to the point where she’ll just say Grapenuts instead of staring at the pantry crying the fake fit cries until I make her use her words(seriously, she never stops talking, but when she is in a particularly divalicious mood, which is not often, she expects me to respond to groans, cries, and huffing sounds. She’s not an 8th grader yet, so I’m not sure how she has reached these development milestones so early in life. She must be a genius!)

Waiting is inevitable, but here’s the problem: sometimes I find myself focusing more on what’s going to happen when the waiting is over than enjoying what’s happening now. Seeing this behavior in my 8th graders made it easier to see in myself. They have three days to create their own multimedia project using the computer labs and their imagination. On any other day, this would be what they considered an awesome assignment; today they came back to school just waiting to leave again, so they half heartedly began their projects. I viewed this as very ungrateful, which it is. So am I. I have a great husband, wonderful daughter, easy pregnancy, no real complaints, and all I could do was try to get through the morning routine to get to work. In my mind, I thought maybe I wouldn’t be going back to work, that Sammy would make a Thanksgiving break appearance. He didn’t, and quite frankly, it was naïve to expect him to. He’s not due until the 7th, and if he arrives before Christmas that’s fine with me. My children really dig the fashionably late statement. But I want to meet him. I want to go into labor(I’m not nuts, I really WANT this experience). I’ve been reading a book a friend lent me about natural childbirth experiences, and I’m even more anxious to have a shot at this now than I was before. I’m ready for Dennis to not have to give up hours of his day to homework. He already works so hard.

But focusing on all of that has left me missing the now. I love Sammy’s kicks and his little hiccups. I won’t feel them inside of me once he arrives. And really, I love being pregnant. I feel great and the fact that there is a little life inside of me is still awe inspiring.

With the grunting, sometimes tantrum phase, Wren has also started saying please and thank you often. She doesn’t call us mommy and daddy but says “my mommy” and “my daddy”, which is adorable any time of day. Her go to foods are apples, corn, and homemade protein bars. There is so much about this phase that is amazing, and the tantrums are a very small percentage of the overall day.

As for Dennis and college, well, I’m just ready for that to be over. I know I cannot be as ready as he is, or as Wren is for that matter. He doesn’t see her from Monday night until Thursday morning, and they NEED to see each other. They both have tantrum tendencies when too much time goes by without each other.

My goal for the week is to focus on the now, the great events happening at this moment without so much preoccupation with the future. When Sammy gets here, he gets here. I’m trying to convince myself he’s not due until Christmas so anything before that will be a pleasant surprise. When Wren gives me the sounds that express dissatisfaction instead of the words telling me what she’s actually dissatisfied about, I’ll just think about the “I love yous” and the way she kissed both cheeks, my forehead, and my nose before I got out of bed this morning. College we only have to contend with for three more days. We’ll get through it. Life is about now, and our now is good.

A few things...

Things that make me smile

Starbucks offering buy one get one free holiday drinks this weekend

Wren’s positive body image. After putting on her clothes this morning, she looked at me and said, “I so cute in red pants!” I could learn from this child. I had just been examining the situation that is my upper thighs now touching.

My grandmother coming to clean my house before Sammy gets here. I love this woman. I know she goes home after scrubbing my baseboards and cleaning under my refrigerator and wonders how something like me flowed from her genealogical line, but I don’t care. I’ll take the judgment for a spotless house.

No TV. Really. We have no channels. My grandmother may flip when she gets here and there is no Dr. Phil. Don’t worry, I’m keeping the house super messy so she won’t have time to think about it! I’m mercilessly hard on this 79 year old woman.

Wren taking her eye drops that I believe actually contain the word “acid” in the ingredients without a fuss. It took a few rounds, but she’s a pro now.

Date night

An unexpectedly large check from the side business

Things that make me put on my look like I have gas but am really just frustrated face

My 8th graders acting like writing a persuasive paper is a NASA assignment after three weeks of being hand held, spoon fed, and checked in on while working on this very assignment. When one of them had the audacity to ask me what a thesis was today, tears literally welled up in my eyes. We’ve only been covering that for 12 WEEKS! That paired with hearing the word “Seriously?” bathed in sarcasm when I tell them for the 500th time they cannot use the word you in a formal paper makes me so grateful for Thanksgiving break next week. I might be resigning if there wasn’t a break near.

Being asleep when my husband gets home from college. He came home at 10:10. I had already been out for at least two hours. Such a waste of time together.

Falling asleep while thinking about all the things I need to get up and do. I was running a list in my brain of the chores that would be great for me to get started on when I zonked out next to Wren last night. How very productive!

Missing Bible study and prayer time after starting the week so strong and truly enjoying it. It’s amazing how quickly I get apathetic about the things that matter.

And so it begins

I thought about not blogging about this. I thought about not talking about it, but my mind has been occupied for almost a week, so maybe putting it in words will get it out of my head.

This pregnancy has been so normal and easy and is still going great. So you can imagine my surprise when I received a call from my doctor’s surgery coordinator on Thursday informing me that we would be starting weekly biophysical profiles(BPP) and twice weekly non-stress tests(NST) as well as me seeing the doctor every week from here on out. I won’t even be 32 weeks until Tuesday. The reason? I have a thyroid disease. Here’s the shocker: I have had a thyroid disease since I was nine, and we did not do this with my first pregnancy. However, Wren almost ran out of amniotic fluid, I am older now, and Sammy’s due date seems to be a massive moving target because his measurements aren’t exactly adding up to his due date and none of the sonograms have added up to what they originally thought the due date was. I’m going to pick my doctor’s brain a bit more tomorrow about why we maybe couldn’t have discussed this before I was 32 weeks pregnant because the shock alone almost sent me into labor. However, I think a few things just added up weird and they’re being extra cautious.

Honestly, I feel like Sammy is just fine. Is he measuring a little small? Sure, though sonograms are notoriously off on measurements, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was tiny. His sister is not large and we don’t tend to make big babies. Plus, if he is coming out the good old fashioned way like we hope, I’m okay with him not being a 10 pounder. But the fluid thing was scary. It didn’t happen till I was overdue and we caught it, but I know it would have been on my mind this pregnancy despite my promise not to worry about. No fluid equals bad things for baby, so it will be nice to keep tabs on those levels from here on out. And maybe that’s why this happened. God knows me, He made me, so maybe He didn’t want the last eight weeks of my pregnancy to be marred by stress over fluid levels.

I don’t know. This is really not something to stress about, but it’s made my mind sort of misfire and malfunction for the last few days. If everything is fine, why are we doing this? The obvious answer to that question is to keep things fine, but a small seed of concern has now been planted that wasn’t there before and is making me worry about I don’t know what. During the non-stress test I am supposed to lay with a fetal heart rate monitor on my belly for half an hour relaxing while they see if anything is wrong with my child. How non stressful is that really going to be? And the biophysical profile can take up to an hour. I’m not sure how happy Sammy is going to be having someone push on my belly with a jelly covered wand for an hour. The child is so active he may start kung fu kicking the wand and then hide.

I’m glad tests are available to monitor things like this, but the crazy testing news came on a day when I was thinking that if Sammy’s birth went well, maybe giving birth at a birthing center would be possible next time. Maybe having one successful VBAC would lead to us being more comfortable with the idea of a birthing center birth like we really wanted the first time. I really don’t know if we would have done it, but it seems like that option might not even be worth thinking about now, and that’s okay. Healthy babies are the goal. I just don’t love interventions, but neither does my doctor. That’s the beauty of being with a doctor I trust; I know she is doing this for a reason and feels that it is the best thing. She’s pretty hands off otherwise. Unfortunately, that leads to the question of what is the reason, and is she really concerned something is going to happen that is out of the ordinary? This is the loop my mind has been running for too long now. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, pray constantly, and try to relax during my hour and a half non-stress/profile appointment. I don’t really know what else to do.

The Second Time Around

The second pregnancy is different. Some things are the same: I’m still referred to as the happy, pregnant woman, I’ve still never had morning sickness, I still didnt have to shop for maternity clothes(thanks Amy). God has seen fit to bless me with easy, wonderful pregnancies both times, and I am so very grateful for that. The difference this time is more in how we’ve prepared for Sammy’s arrival, or not prepared.

With Wren we had four showers and the child had more clothes than Dennis and I combined before she was born. We spent $500 on a crib that has now become a glorified doll holder since we co-sleep. We took natural birthing classes for eight weeks. During the first pregnancy, we had time to do these things because we didn’t have a child yet.

Yesterday I bought Sammy clothes. This puts him up to a total of six pairs, more than enough I say until we see if he actually needs the newborn or zero to three months size. Sammy is getting a bassinet from my sister that she received from a friend because we know another $500 crib would be empty anyway since he will be in our room for night feedings and, when he’s big enough, our bed. We haven’t even been able to squeeze in a refresher course for our birthing class, but thankfully our birthing coach from last time has offered to doula if we need her. Between that and reading our birthing book from last time, we’re considering ourselves ready to go.

It’s not that we care less about this pregnancy or this child; it’s just a more mellow attitude the second time around. Sleep deprivation? Been there, done that. Putting together a nursery my child spends no time in because she’s attached to us all the time, which I love? Did that too. I have friends who decorate for fun, but I decorate because people walk in my house and think we’ve lived there for two weeks instead of over two years. It does not rank high on my priority list. If I thought Sammy would be in his nursery a lot, we’d be working on turning the office into a nursery a little bit faster. I know where he’ll be though; attached to me nursing or riding in his baby sling so he can hear my heart and get acclimated to the outside the womb world in his own time.

This time around, I want no showers. Wren’s clothes are now separated into three bins: two are full of clothes that still don’t fit and one is full of clothes she outgrew before the tags came off. I’ve already given away two bins of never worn clothes. When Sammy is given toys, we will have to start using our kitchen cabinets as storage space because Wren’s are already flowing freely out of her room and to every other corner of our house. Plus, most of Wren’s are unisex, so Sammy will have his fair share of toys just waiting. Dennis and I feel like we’ve hit the jackpot because my school has offered us diapers and wipes in leiu of cake and punch, and being second timers, we know how awesome this offer is!

I think for us it comes down to seeing our reality. Despite the fact that Wren has been showered with material possessions, and I’m sure Sammy will be too, it’s not what means the most to her. We mean the most to her. Our time spent working on puzzles, reading books, chasing her around the house, going to the park, is all she really wants. It may just be that she is too young, but so far she has never attempted to take a toy she likes from the store. She plays with it at the store, puts it on a shelf and walks out with nothing more than mine or Dennis’ hand and never throws a fit about it. If we were to detach her room from the rest of the house, I think she would honestly care less. As long as dad’s there to play and I’m there to sing, she might not even notice.

Our reality looks different than I expected because I was more of a boundaries person before we had kids. I thought there would be places in our house that were off limits or grown ups only. I cannot imagine it being like that now. Somewhere in between feeding a child from my body, watching her sleep, and obsessing if her temperature was 99 instead of 98.6, I lost all boundaries. I am like one liquid woman who feels connected and flowing through every member of our house. It’s amazing. Dennis and I were watching her sleep last night and he said he couldn’t imagine her not sleeping in our bed. Me either, and I know the time will come when she doesn’t want to.

I don’t want Sammy to feel like the hands me down baby or like we didn’t care enough to do all the first baby things with him. It’s not that way at all. Like I said, it’s just a mind set difference and the fact that we were so overly prepared with Wren that we can still use what we have to avoid being wasteful. Sammy and Wren are already distinct, unique, perfect little beings on their own, and any difference in how we prepare for them is not a reflection of our love. It’s just us meeting their needs. Every child is different. You don’t prepare for them or raise them exactly the same. It doesn’t mean you love one more than the other or expect more or less from one than the other. It means you are looking at them as individuals and making your decisions accordingly instead of adopting the one-size-fits-all version of parenting. Though I’m sure we’re destined to make mistakes everyday, I am comfortable with where we are now and how we got here. And I can say this: the excitement of adding another person to our family is just as awesome the second time around.

Rubber Ducky, You’re the One

I tired of the idea of multitasking months ago. Honestly, I believe that I can have 10 things on my to-do list and I will get them done faster if I work on one at a time, not five at the same time. What I finish is actually quality, and I’m not losing my mind trying to juggle returning a phone call while answering email and cooking dinner at the same time. I usually end up emailing the wrong person while not listening to the person on the phone and burning dinner. It’s not quality.

Apparently I even need to stop multitasking on some of the tasks that should be somewhat intuitive, at least while I’m pregnant. This realization came courtesy of an unfortunate bathtub incident on Sunday. I was running bath water, stepping in the bath water while having a conversation with my husband and trying to reach for my daughter who wanted in the bath with me when it happened: I was violated by a rubber ducky! Wren has about six rubber duckies, so I’m not completely sure who the culprit was, but I sat my tush on a ducky beak, flung my whole body backwards and sat in shock. Luckily, this fall did not lead to contractions and an emergency room visit, though it did lead to some laughs from husband and daughter.

It was amusing, but it did bring back the thought that multitasking is a myth. The brain needs to focus on one thing at a time to truly comprehend. It’s safer(that’s a shout out to all you crazies who text while you drive) and I feel healthier when I’m not doing the chicken-with-my-head-cut-off dance. It took me a long time to realize the root of my disorganization was just my tendency to take on too much and not prioritize what needed to be done first. Even if I could get it prioritized, I still never felt like doing one thing at a time was good enough, like I was cheating because I wasn’t 100% stressed and ready to scream. Luckily, I’m over that feeling.

I have to credit one huge change in our lives that has helped me eliminate the need for multitasking and that is pretty much doing away with our cell phones. I know, this is blasphemy for most people, but it is absolute bliss! We installed a home phone in June, went on a prepaid plan where we have so few minutes a month available that it has to pretty much be emergency only and life became much simpler. Here’s why:

People can’t find you, therefore they stop looking:
I remember when my phone would ring and it always seemed like I had to answer it. There was a sense of emergency revolving around the fact that someone was calling me right then and what if they needed something. Even if I didn’t answer, I had their voice message or text just waiting and this lent a feeling of needing to respond when a need wasn’t really there. Now, people call my cell, it’s usually off or not with me, and then they call the home phone if they really need something. I check the home phone at the end of the day and call back who I want when I want. And when people don’t really need anything, they stop calling and this frees up a ton of time you spend calling them back just to find out they only called you because they were bored.

Relationships are better when they’re not casual:
Speaking of people who call when they’re bored, don’t you just love the people who call because you’re their from here to there person? You know, that person they call on the way to the grocery store or to pick up their kids? They don’t need to talk to you, maybe don’t even want to, but they are so used to doing something all the time that sitting in the car in silence or with only the radio freaks them out. They call you, fake interest until they reach their destination, and then you don’t hear from them again until they are going somewhere else and happen to see your number in their phone. Yeah, these aren’t quality conversations. I am now a fan of the old school style phone conversations that involve putting my child to bed, getting something warm to drink and having a conversation with a person where this is no predestined time for it to end. Those are good, and honestly, I don’t have as many phone conversations as I did before giving up the cell, but they’re better when I do.

Texting…I just don’t have words:
I hate it. I am not a technology hater, but I hate texting. I realize this confession will make me unpopular with 99% of the population, but I'm ready to be honest. I hate it because 8th graders think you spell you as u, and cause as cuz, and they get seriously offended when this is not accepted on a formal paper in my class. I hate it because on a regular basis I am having conversations with people who then pull out their cell phones and respond to a text from someone else. By the way, this is not multitasking, it’s just rude. Really, if I bore you that much then just walk away. It would be less irritating. I hate it because by the time I type out one text, I could have called and said what I needed to say therefore making it a huge time waster. I just hate it.

Anyway, that’s my rant for the night. Rubber ducky bum violation = bad. More time with family doing one thing at a time and not living glued to a cell phone = good.