The Longest Road That is Really the Shortest

Eight years ago, I was hugely pregnant and trying to not take offense when people asked me if I was expecting twins two months before my due date. I was reading all I could about pregnancy and birth plans and commiserating online with other pregnant moms due at about the same time. I was emotional and excited and fearful and naive.

Yet no matter how well-prepared you may be, how many people tell you the reality, how many gory details you uncover...there is nothing that truly prepares you for the reality of parenthood. I'm not even talking about labor and delivery...I know very little about that anyway since 2 of my 3 were scheduled repeat c-sections and the first was a very early emergent c-section.

There is little I remember about those days leading to parenthood. Nearly 8 years into the journey it's hard to remember how it felt to be expecting the first. I do recall, in hindsight, that I had no idea what was going to happen to my life. I thought I knew. But I didn't.

Now I am well-versed at being a mom to an infant, a toddler, even preschoolers and early grade-schoolers. I have no idea what it's like to be a mom to a preteen, teen, even grown child. With any luck, I will learn parenthood to these growing children.

I've learned that it's not possible to parent each child the same or equally. Everyone needs different things at different times. The children don't understand this, and we often have hurt feelings and accusations, but the reality is that not everyone is going to need a new pair of shoes at the same time. Is it fair that one child outgrows shoes faster than the other and needs new ones more often? Probably not. My guess is that over the years, the injustices even out whether we realize it or not.

Now here I am, on the cusp of my youngest child (always to be the baby) turning two. Soon, she will no longer need to drink whole milk and I will forget that kids from 1 to 2 should drink whole milk if they are not still nursing. Almost 6 months since D weaned, I've already forgotten what it was like to "have" to nurse a child.

So begins the business of forgetting the baby and toddler stages. Within 3 years, the knowledge of parenting a preschooler will begin to fade. The grade school years are fun in different ways than the infant, toddler and preschool years. The kids are people. They have ideas. They can be hilarious.

They still reflect how you treat them. The best days are when I remember to talk to my kids how I want them to talk to me. It doesn't always happen of course, but I try.

One day I know I'll look at three adults and think they are more amazing than I even imagined they would be.

Nostalgia

As I've confessed before, my children have most often napped in my lap. I know I'm not supposed to do that, nor am I supposed to rock the baby to sleep but I do. These babies grow at an alarming rate, where once each child could fit snugly from head to toe on my ample lap, soon the legs trail off my right thigh. Before I know it there are arms and legs too long to fit anywhere snugly.

Which is to say I like to savor my babies.

Recently I've started to watch A Baby Story while Ms. D naps in my lap. Each birth brings a tear to my eye as I watch. I'm a sentimental fool and I feel the joy of each of these new parents.

The emergent cesareans and scheduled repeat c-sections can transport me to each of my own children's births in moments. I smell the stale scent of the oxygen mask, feel the prick of the spinal that makes me jerk my back suddenly, shiver a little with the cold and warm with the weight of the heated blankets. I feel the pulling in my stomach and can sense my body shake as the doctors push and pull to bring my baby into the world.

You can't tell me I'm less of a mother for how I gave birth. It was beautiful and unforgettable each time. I will feel a tinge of sadness for a few more years that my baby days are quickly falling into my past, but my children bring me such pleasure as I learn more and more about what makes these people I carried inside me who they really are.

In the words of Don Draper: "He's only a baby. We don't know who he is yet, or who he's going to be. And that's a beautiful thing."

It is indeed.

The New Normal

Tomorrow, I will officially have been a mom of three for one whole year. We all survived together, in this too-small-for-us-now house, in the almost-too-small-for-us car, in my larger-than-I-ever-dreamed heart.

Midway through my pregnancy with D I started to second-guess the wisdom of having another child. My other two children were unruly and hard to manage. They were sensing the change that was coming in our lives, and while they looked forward to having a baby sister they also (I think) resented the sort-of implied knowledge that the two of them were not enough.

But the thing that kids don't (and can't) understand is that a mother wants for more children precisely because the ones she already has take her breath away. It is the wonder of knowing these perfect beings (perfect not in deed but perfect for that mother, their mother) and watching them develop and emerge from the shadow of that mother that makes her want to see the process continue anew; and to discover what new ways the process can unfold.

When the baby was born last May, my other two children were in love with her. She was little, she slept a lot, she rarely cried and most importantly...she didn't move. It was a lovely babymoon until about 6 months into her life when she started to crawl. Now she can get into their things and they don't much care for it. Of course all she has to do is smile her big, dimpled, still toothless smile and they turn back into puddles of submission. Anything the baby wants, she can usually get because they don't like to see or hear her crying.

I'm fairly certain this only works when the baby is at least 3 years younger than her siblings. It definitely didn't work that way with M and K and there are only 2 years and 7 days between them...although M did do her fair share of doting on K as well.

The bleary-eyed days of having a newborn are now behind me. My youngest baby will be one tomorrow and I am looking forward to seeing how we will all continue to fit together, this family of mine. Each day D will show us more and more of her personality, her preferences, her foibles and we will all adapt just a little to make room for this new normal.

Where Did These Kids Come From Then?

People say insensitive things all the time. I'm not sure if we have just lost all decorum or if most people are idiots or what, but wow people can say some stupid, stupid things.

I remember when I was a new mom, one of my good friends (who had not yet had any children) asked me what I could possibly be doing all day. She thought that I had tons of free time and was living it up. That friend has since had one child and said that one child is all she can handle. I'm certain she thinks I am insane to have three children.

I was reading Beck's post the other day and she mentioned that a friend of hers said that having a c-section wasn't really giving birth. I commented that apparently I have never given birth then.

Then I started thinking about it and got sad, mad, whatever. It's true. I've never been through labor. Oh the nurses have told me that I was contracting but I couldn't really feel it. It just felt mildly tight in my abdomen. Not at all hurty, which I guess is a good thing.

I do have a high tolerance for pain, I think. If I wasn't being monitored, I would have said I was never contracting with any of my pregnancies. The monitors say otherwise, but whatever. I had a kidney stone last year that was pretty painful...painful enough that I allowed my husband to take me to the ER to find out what was wrong with me, but still, not that painful. I really could take more pain than that. I rated my pain at a 4 or 5 out of 10. When the stone actually came out? Wasn't more than a blip on the pain scale.

Then I broke my finger a few months back. I wasn't going to go to the doctor, but it was starting to look a little weird so I thought I'd better get it checked out. After a week of having it in a splint I had my regular physician check it. She watched my face as she moved my finger back and forth. My kids were with me. My doctor looked at my kids and said "your Mom is tough!"

So I am still disappointed that I never had the opportunity to deliver my babies naturally as I had planned with baby #1. She needed an emergent delivery and that was that. I purposely scheduled K's section for the day before my due date in hopes that I might experience more of labor before I had the section. There was no action that I could tell. With D, I was contracting as I went into the hospital (so the monitors said) but the section was performed before too much was happening.

So maybe I am less of a mom because I've only had babies via c-section. Though I've heard moms who have given birth naturally say that a kidney stone is worse. Seriously? Pshaw. Though my stone as it was traveling did hurt worse than my section incision.

And then I had a plugged milk duct that resulted in a milk blister. Now that is hurty! I really think boobie/nursing owies hurt more than anything. Especially when you have to willingly put baby to breast in order to help make you feel better even though it hurts like H-E-L-L.

Also? This pretty much tops my list of things I never thought I'd have to do...take a needle to a nipple and pop a white milk-filled blister. Motherhood is so glamorous.

Sometimes Things Work Out Okay Even Though We Think They Won't

One year ago this Friday I realized a dream that I'd held very close to my heart for at least 3 years prior.


Shortly after K was born I started to realize I didn't think he was my last baby. I felt as though there was still someone missing in our family. It's a strange feeling and definitely an unexpected one. Craig and I had talked before we got married and agreed we would have two children. It was settled, or so we both thought.


When K was born, as far as Craig was concerned, our family was complete. He wanted to make an appointment with the V doctor and I asked him to put it off. When K was about a year old, Craig and I had a talk. That talk resulted in our agreement that we would try for one more child.


I thought it was settled and I'd have my third child about 2 years after I had my second, just like the spacing of M and K. But things didn't quite work out that way.


Month after month I would hold out hope...I can relate to this post in many, many ways. Every time a friend or acquaintance would announce her pregnancy I would smile through gritted teeth. I was happy for them, but insanely jealous and always feeling guilty that I wanted this third perfect baby. Who was I to feel badly when I already had two beautiful, precious, healthy children? What was wrong with me that I was so depressed and bitter every month?


And let me tell you, Mother Nature really is a beatch because many times when women are under stress this messes with their cycles and sometimes delays ovulation, and therefore, her period. Those months that my cycle was longer than usual? Torture. In my younger days my cycles were 28 days, no more no less, every month. At the height of my baby-lust crazed, stressed, depressed days? My cycle sometimes stretched to 35 days, once even to 40 days. Those months I spent a fortune on pregnancy tests, hoping as I peed on one more stick that it would develop two lines this day, even though the previous five or seven or twelve days had been negative.


My weight ballooned. My period would start and I'd eat and drink and suffer through my own little pity party every month.


So because I was embarrassed at this want (arguably this need) for another baby when I was already clearly blessed I told no one of our struggles, of our plans, our hopes. When someone would ask me if we were done with having kids I'd smile coyly and say "we'll see!" or "it's not up to me!" When someone would comment about how I should have another child I'd cringe inside and just nod.


I'd fantasize about peeing on the stick and seeing two lines. I'd daydream about how I'd tell each person about the secret I carried with me upon getting the positive result.


Secondary (or tertiary) infertility is such that I think the women who are suffering through it may feel ashamed or seem incredibly ungrateful for the child (or children) they already have that they must not speak about their pain. I know I did.


So the day that I peed on the stick and saw two lines? I cried. Then I went and bought more tests. And peed on them. And cried some more.


And now I have this third beautiful and perfect child to add to my two already beautiful and perfect children (who occasionally drive me insane) who is about to turn one year old. Already.



I think the years get better as they go.

Time Keeps on Slipping into the Future

I’m feeling uninspired. I want to write but cannot think of what words to say. I have a half dozen blog posts started but I can’t seem to finish them. Nothing seems to come out quite the way I want it.

I want to make cards or notebooks or something – anything – for my etsy shop and I sit and stare at the blank cards unable to figure out what to do with them.

The stress of M’s surgery is mostly over. Now begins the attempts to keep the girl resting who essentially feels better save for a sore throat. The challenge continues to keep the brother who is always full of vim and vigor from riling his sisters. The challenge continues to remain vigilant in keeping the baby safe from the multitude of things that I never had to worry about when the older two kids were babies.

The hours, even one fewer thanks to daylight savings, careen through the day faster and faster. I swear I was just pregnant yesterday, yet here I have a 9-½-month-old girl who seems intent upon walking before her first birthday. She’s climbing stairs and letting go of hands willy-nilly, showing me that I am soon to be out of a job as her “everything” as she will be more and more independent.

Then there is this boy who was just a toddler days ago who has morphed not only into a preschooler, but also into a pre-kindergartener. He has ideas and stories and personality in unlimited supply. How will I manage in a few short months to drop off two of my children to strangers for most of the day? I hope that he never loses that enthusiasm for life. I want to always hear strangers say he’s quite a character isn’t he? I want to always nod my head in slightly exasperated agreement.

Just yesterday my oldest baby showed me again that she is growing into a big girl by leaps and bounds. We were trying to do some homework so that she doesn’t fall behind in her schoolwork. She chose to start with math…something that I have never been very fond of but for which she seems to have a natural ability. We were working with coins and writing money values in two ways, as cents and as dollars and cents. It didn’t take much coaching before I realized I did not need to do much. She was adding up 2 quarters, 1 dime, 3 nickels and 4 pennies to equal 79 cents in no time. I’m certain I couldn’t have done the same at her age.

So here I sit feeling, in a way, that life is rolling on around me. Everyone is growing and learning and doing, it seems, except for me. I am a bystander, yet I feel like I am missing so much even as I watch it happening.

I want to write, to take photos, to scrapbook, to capture these days before they slip away forever, but I am stuck. I get lost in the hugs and the holding. I gather them into my arms and inhale their hair. They fill my senses and deplete my energy. They make me want to be better at everything.

So I try. I try to write. I try to create. I try to be patient and loving and kind. But it is hard to do it all. So now I mostly am being mom and the blog is getting sloppy seconds. So be it.

The more the merrier?

In an attempt to get my older children out of the house and tired out I took the kids to the House of Bounce this afternoon. There was some sort of snafu that caused us to stand in line for 10 minutes or more since the girl behind the counter didn't seem to know how to change the paper on the cash register. So that part was fun:

Mooooooom? When are we going to get to go in?

Mooooom? Can we go in yet?

Mooooooooooooom? Can we just go sit over there by the bouncers?

At this point I was ready to shoot myself in the foot. It was our first time at the place and it was not making a great first impression.

Mooooom? Can we go in now?

We have to wait just like everyone else! (Oh dear God shoot me now!)

To make matters worse (better?) we've noticed old friends of ours as soon as we stepped in the door. Our friend's oldest child was born the day after Miss M which has bonded us from the beginning of our relationship. She adopted her oldest child, but has since had twin boys through an unexpected pregnancy. Her boys are now almost two years old, and it seems she is pregnant again. This time her baby is due in late February, a single baby, and she is a sister for her siblings.

I'm so happy for her family and she adds to the number of families I've heard adding their fourth child. Aaaand I start to get all jealous even though I have three beautiful, perfect children, one of whom is a scant 7 months old. Not to mention the fact that we are done having children. DONE. I have a child who is only 7 months old. What the hell is wrong with me?

Hi Hon!

I'm guessing for some of us sick, very, very, sick women that there is no end to the theory of wanting another child. In theory, really, the more kids the better, right? In reality? Probably not so cool.

Weeks

I’ve realized that I don’t know the weeks.

You know when you’re pregnant with your first child and someone asks you how far along you are? You answer, all giddy with the knowledge that you’re growing your baby: 24 weeks and 3 days.

You know. You know exactly to the day how far along you are.

The knowledge of the weeks continues once the baby is born. Any innocent inquiry to the baby’s age is met with: 16 weeks. 22 weeks. 34 weeks.

You just know. You keep track. The poor stranger that asked you the question is left to the math to try to figure out how old your child is, and you feel confident that you’ve given the most accurate response to the question.

With the second child, you still know the weeks of gestation, after all, you’re carrying that kid around and he’s bouncing on your pelvis and making you wonder what the H you were thinking about carrying another baby around for 40 weeks.

When people ask after baby #2 is born, how old he is, half the time you know to the week, the other half of the time you just round to the nearest half-month. Let’s face it, people don’t need that accurate information.

The third child? I was supremely happy to discover that I was finally pregnant. I counted down the days to my first OB appointment so that I could see that the being inside me was doing well and growing fine. After that first appointment? No, really after the thirteenth week, I lost track. People would ask how many weeks I was pregnant (obviously other pregnant moms or recently pregnant moms) and I would falter. I didn’t know. Often I’d just blurt out a number then go home and look at my calendar and discover I was further along than I had said I was.

Since she was born it’s no less a wonderful thing. It’s no less a joy to have an infant around our house. In fact, in some ways, it is the best time that I’ve had an infant around the house. She smiles, she giggles, she is easy to please.

If you ask me how old she is, however, I will round to the nearest half-month. Every time. Sometimes that might mean that I round up to the half-month before it’s actually warranted. To tell the truth, I have no idea whatsoever how many weeks old my third child is at any given time.

I can tell you that it doesn’t mean that I love her any less than I love her siblings. Love does, indeed, multiply with each child. However, the concept of time seems to fade with each birth.
One moment they’re babies, the next they’re going away to college.

Benefits

I did not plan to have nearly four years separate my two youngest children. Craig and I had planned to have our third child in the 2-year age span like with the first two kids.

The 2-year age gap was not to be with the third child, and as the months ticked by that I wasn't pregnant so the age gap crept ever greater.

I'd hoped that K and our third child would be close in age like M and K partly because M and K can often play the same games and do the same things. Their interests often are similar and their ages often allow them to be in the same activities. Like right now, they are in the cherub choir at church together. Next year, M will move to the next choir but they have this year together.

So when I finally got pregnant with Ms. D, I admit I worried a bit about the age gap. I'm sure that ages 2-3 will be a challenge because she'll want to do what her older siblings are doing but she just won't be old enough or big enough.

But I hadn't realized the real benefit of having older children when you have a new baby in the house. Miss M has been especially helpful with the baby, from singing to her in the car when she starts to cry to entertaining her while I'm in the shower, to getting D's toys for her to play with.

This weekend Miss M really showed how helpful she is and how much she loves her little sister. She changed D's diaper and got her dressed with only minimal help from me.

How cool is that?

Anniversary

Yesterday was an anniversary of sorts.


The rumors flew (sort of), then I confirmed one.

This time last year? Seems a very, very long time ago. And in a way, it is. It's a lifetime ago.

Recommendations from a Recent Third-Time Mom

This is what worked (or didn’t work) for me:

Get a Baby Papasan chair. We didn’t have one for M, but we borrowed one for K and he loved it. He loved it so much that I wanted to get one for Miss D. Lucky for me I have great friends who bought one for me. Miss D also loves the chair. These are particularly crucial for those first few weeks.

Also? Good friends are great to have when they bring supper after baby is born. I loved not having to cook all the time when K and D were first born. If you’re wondering what to get the friend who just had her second, third, fourth child? Bring her a home-cooked meal and stay and hold the baby so her and her husband can eat a hot meal together.

Pass on the Diaper Genie. We attempted to use one with M but it filled up so fast we got tired of emptying it all the time. It was just as easy to throw the really stinky diapers directly in the can in the garage. But honestly by the time the diapers were stinky we’d already abandoned the Genie anyway.

Ditto for the changing table. We never got one. The floor works perfectly fine.

Get a battery operated swing. When the baby won’t stop crying and you’ve tried everything, usually the swing will offer the baby some “space” which is probably what she wanted all along.

Avoid clothes with big collars when your baby is younger than 6 months. The collars just stick up and get in their faces. I find it annoying so I bet the baby really hates it.

If you’re stocking up on diapers before baby’s arrival, just go straight for the size ones. I still stand behind this even though D was small enough to wear the newborn diapers for quite a while. Most of the time you will have a bigger baby, especially if you’ve had kids before. And if you end up having a smaller one? Well, eventually she’ll be in the bigger size anyway and you’ll be stocked up when she is.

Speaking of diapers, I just found the site Diapers.com and ordered some diapers and nursing pads. The shipping was free (with $49 order) plus I had a code for $10 off my first order. And I didn’t have to lug a big box of diapers around Target while trying to keep K, M and D all in line. If you want to try it out, please use this code: AKAR3125 to get $10 off your first order (over $49) and they’ll give me a tiny credit. I ordered on a Wednesday morning and had my order in home by noon on Friday.

If you think you’ll have more kids, buy only gender-neutral or boy sleepers. Babies don’t care what color their pjs are and when girls get older they probably won’t object to wearing pjs with boats or cars on them. Husbands will likely object to seeing their sons in pink footie pajamas with butterflies on them.

Take your baby to have portraits taken as a newborn, 3 months, 6 months, 9 months and 1 year at the very minimum. It does not matter where you go for the sessions. You will cherish those portraits when your kids are grown and having your grandbabies. Then you will be able to pull out your child’s portrait and say “see? Baby H looks just like you did at that age.” This will seem important to you then.

***********************
That’s all I have for now. I’m sure there will be more.

What products, etc did/do you love for your babies?

But who's counting?

Three months and three days.

That's how long it has been that Craig has been packing the opening in my abdomen that opened 1 week after D was born.

This morning he packed it one last time, and tonight I'm packing tape free. Hopefully the small hole that is left will close up completely and quickly.

It will be nice to not have to worry about that anymore.

But for the record? D is totally worth all the discomfort during my pregnancy and the complications afterward. TOTALLY worth it.

Remember that?

Craig told his parents that he is still packing my incision twice a day. They asked him if he's sure he's doing it right. Apparently these things take a loooong time to heal. And my incision didn't open that much. Some women have to have the whole thing opened and packed. Craig says that he can't get much tape in the wound anymore, so it is healing.

I was watching D this morning. It was a rare morning in that she woke at 3 a.m. to nurse. She's been off her norm these last couple of days because we were holding our garage sale and D wasn't able to hang with mom as much as she usually does. Her norm? Sleeping about 8 p.m. Half awake to nurse about 11 p.m. then sleep until 5 a.m.

I know! If I didn't know for sure I'd swear she wasn't my kid. Although she looks a lot like I did as a baby. Poor girl.

Anyhow, I was watching her this morning. She'd nursed, then wasn't quite ready to go back to sleep. She smiled at me, as she always does. She kicked her legs and swung her arms. She cooed at me. I gazed at my baby and realized how quickly this time is passing.

One minute I am in the hospital waiting to enter the OR for my c-section and meet my baby girl, the next I am holding an 11-week-old baby who is responding to her surroundings and holding my heart in her tiny fingers.

She's just outgrown her 0-3 month size sleepers, although the clothes without closed feet still fit her fine. Those sleepers went in our garage sale. Some of those sleepers were worn by all three of my kids.

Tomorrow I am taking my maternity clothes to a local reseller shop to see if they will buy them from me.

On to the future...it's coming quickly.

The Factor of Fear

The first time I peed on a stick that developed two lines was in 2001. We were actively trying to get pregnant, but I was naïve about what pregnancy would be like.

Those two lines were, at once, joyful and terrifying. I can’t imagine what it’s like for a teenager to see those two lines, who does not want a baby, who is hoping that it’s a false alarm. I was no Spring chicken and I was worried about what would come.

Craig and I were excited to share our news. To me, my pregnancy felt like a sweet secret. Those early days when I was not yet experiencing morning sickness nor any other pregnancy symptom made the pregnancy seem like a fantasy. I was like a kid, pretending I was pregnant for a game.

We told our parents, my brother and his wife, my aunts and uncle. I told my boss.

I was hesitant to tell more people. Actually, I’d been slightly hesitant to tell anyone at first, even though I was excited to share the news at the same time.

No more than two days after we told all those people of our news, I started to bleed. I called the nurse line and tried to tell the woman on the other end the quantity of blood through my choking tears.

Are you soaking a pad an hour?

(No.)

Are you cramping?

(No.)

I can tell that you’re very upset.

(You think?)

Until I saw that blood, I’d had no idea how much I wanted that being that was supposedly growing inside me.

No one tells you about that fear. That fear of miscarriage or still birth that doesn’t go away until your child is born, alive and screaming and placed in your arms.

I was told that my bleeding was implantation bleeding. It was something I had never heard of, and after, I read up on it and thought that my bleeding didn’t jive with when the books said implantation took place.

It wasn’t until my first OB appointment at 10 weeks, when I saw my baby’s heart beating that I really believed that I was still pregnant. But then I had seen my child, the Bean, and the fear that I could lose that child remained, although slightly lessened, until her birth.

That fear was there with each known pregnancy, yet I am one of the lucky women who have never experienced a loss of a known pregnancy. (I qualify that with the “known” because it took Craig and I two years to conceive Ms. D and during that time I read a lot about fertility and the high incidence of miscarriage that occurs when women do not know they are pregnant.)

That worry; that fear of something happening to my child that started more than 6 years ago will now never go away. While I no longer will need to worry about losing a child during pregnancy, I now have three beings out in this world holding my heart in their hands.

Random Thoughts #22

Before I went in for my c-section I picked up a Target gift card to give to the winner of the baby pool over there in my sidebar still. The results were calculated by the site’s criteria and you can see the final results by clicking on the box. I just want you to know that I had nothing to do with the results. The winner has been given the gift card already. Shipping was pretty cheap.

Apparently I am allergic to the really sexy stretchy underpants that they gave me to wear postpartum in the hospital. Luckily the giant maxi-pad protected the really fragile girly parts so it is just my thighs that have the offending redness and blisters.

During the c-section the surgeon exclaimed “Oh! There is A LOT of scar-tissue in here Heather. This is going to take some work.” At which time I started to wonder how long I’d be laying there. Craig brought my iPod into the OR so if I started to freak out during the surgery I could listen to some Simon and Garfunkel. I didn’t use it, but it was nice to have it there just in case. This section actually took less time than my section when K was born, so go figure.

A big nyah nyah to the OB physician who, during my consultation, told me that it wouldn’t take any additional time to tie my tubes during the surgery and that I really should consider doing it so Craig doesn’t have to go for the V. During the section, the surgeon said…and I quote directly “Oh, it’s a good thing you didn’t want your tubes tied, I can’t even see your tubes there’s so much scar tissue.” So I’m guessing that yes, it would have added significant time to the surgery.

This same OB laughed at me when I mentioned that I didn’t think I’d know if I was having contractions since I couldn’t feel them with Miss M. “Oh, you’d know” he laughed, like I was an idiot. Actually, when I was getting prepped for the section, the nurse asked if I’d been having any contractions too and I said I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t sure. She kind of laughed too, until she hooked me up to the monitor and discovered that I was, indeed, contracting…and no, I couldn’t feel the contractions.

We took Ms. D for her first portrait session yesterday. Of course the baby who never cries, cried. But we still got some cute shots because, you know, she’s pretty cute. Craig went and bought a few preemie outfits for her since the newborn stuff is so big on her. The tags say “up to 5 pounds” but they fit her much better than the non-preemie stuff!

K is basking in the attention of his Daddy. It's going to be a long week next week when Dad goes back to work.

Miss M lost her other bottom tooth. I told her pretty soon she's going to look like D.

Almost here

Yep. Just a few more hours and baby will be here.

10 a.m. my surgery is scheduled to begin, so if you're wondering when they'll be slicing me open, it will be shortly after 10 tomorrow.

At this point I'm hoping for someone to place my IV on the first attempt instead of taking 3 tries and bruising my arm all to hell like the guy did before K's section. That would be a plus.

And, you know, for the rest of the surgery to go well would be good too.

I made these birth announcements for my kids to give to their friends at school tomorrow. Aren't they cute? (They're Hershey bars in there.)

Well, see you on the other side.

Well, it's something I guess

My last prenatal appointment was this morning. Total weight gain is almost 15 pounds. Not too bad.

My doctor asked if I'd been having any contractions. Considering I didn't feel the contractions that sent Miss M into fetal distress during my induction with her, I told my doctor my standard response. Don't know!

Well, I just check you to see where we are.

Moms, you know what that entails.

Hmmm. You're about a 2 and 30%.

Wha?

Let me be clear. I've never been a 2. Or a 1. Or percent anything. Even when M was 7 days past her due date I was a fingertip dilated at the most.

So what does this mean? Well, nothing really.

I'll still go in on Thursday morning and have my c-section as planned. Well, unless I actually go into labor. Which, to be honest, is still not likely.

But hey, I finally got to hear that there was some effort by my body to deliver a baby without surgery.

Things that make me go hmmmm. (Or, Random Thoughts #21)

No. No baby yet.

I noticed that my site stats are down, and dropping by the day. So I guess my readers prefer me knocked up to about to birth a baby.

I bought a 9-inch round chocolate cake yesterday and ate approximately one-quarter of it last night. And it was delicious.

In fact, I can hear another section of it calling to me right now. Heather? Aren't you supposed to be eating me right about now?

Sunday school and cherub choir are officially done for the year. Sigh of relief. I think it was mighty good planning to have this baby come after we've wrapped that up though.

Must remember to set recorder for Grey's Anatomy season finale on thursday night. Priorities, you know.

The stuffed rigatoni and shrimp at Olive Garden? Mmmmm. They can stop playing the commercials now though. Really.

I'm certain that there are at least 2000 things that I should have ready for this baby, but I don't know what they are. A few clothes, diapers, my milk-producers...what else will she need?

Doesn't matter. It's too late anyhow.

Even if I had the time I don't have the energy or the ambition. Yeah, that whole nesting thing is a total crock.

Although I did finally get my annuals bought and planted today. The flowers? Pretty sight. The pregnant lady planting the flowers? Not so pretty.

Aaaand tomorrow morning is my last prenatal checkup before the big day on thursday. I guess I should find out when I'm supposed to show up so they can evict this kid.

For my unborn child

Dear D,

Soon I will see your face for the first time. Soon I will hold you in my arms instead of in my belly. Soon I will introduce you to our family and our friends.

I’ll admit that these last days, these last hours, are bittersweet for me. You will be my last child. I will never be pregnant again. As much as I’ve complained about my discomfort, I’ve still enjoyed being pregnant.

I dreamed of you for more than two years. My third child, my last child, whom I was beginning to believe would never materialize.

Most of the time I’ve been too busy to pay much attention to your flips and rolls across my abdomen. That is the nature of being a mother to two other children. I have not had the luxury to linger over your every move, every flutter, every hiccup. But the times that I have been able to focus on you are that much more precious for their rarity.

I know you, yet I do not know you.

I wonder if you will have blue eyes or brown. Will you be blond or brunette? Will you nurse voraciously or reject nursing in favor of a bottle? Will you be cautious or adventurous? What will be the thing that defines you, distinguishes you?

In truth, none of those things will matter. You will be loved; you ARE loved, no matter what your personality is or what you look like.

Soon.

For my son

Dear K,

When the doctor announced, seconds after pulling you from my belly, “it’s a big boy!” I immediately wondered how I would know how to take care of you. After all, I only have experience with girls. I’m a girl; your big sister is a girl. Girl parts I know. Boy parts, not so much.

Then I held you in my arms and I was stuck by your sweetness. Immediately, you seemed to need me more than your sister had, and that made me fall in love, madly, deeply. I was going to raise this little boy and somehow build him into a man, but at first, I would savor the quiet moments we shared together.

You are my contradiction of terms, at once cautious and adventurous, cuddling and pulling away, helpful yet defiant. You’re testing the limits to everything, be it your own limitations or your mother’s patience.
You have a song in your heart and a smile on your face.

You chatter incessantly these days and some days it makes me wish for a mute button for you. As soon as I think that, I know that if you did stop talking so much tomorrow, I would miss your happy monologue.

You’ve looked up to your big sister from day one, but learned to stand up to her too.

I worried about putting you in the role of the “middle child.” I worried that you would get lost. I was happy that this baby would be your little sister. You would remain my only son. The protector of his sisters, though they most likely could take care of themselves (at least your big sister can).

I see you as a boy who feels deeply, loves many. You are not afraid to share your love with those you deem worthy. Kisses are not yet yucky. Hugs are made for giving away.

I dream that you will grow into a strong man, not just in brawn, but also in heart. I dream that your heart will remain the pure vessel that it is today, though I know it is unlikely. I dream that life will not harden you too much.

Soon you will be a big brother, and it is a role that I’m certain you will relish. Even when you were very young, you had a soft spot for babies. Today, you still point out babies wherever we go. In the waiting room at the doctor’s office, you will find a younger child to talk to, and try to teach him a little something in the short time you have. It seems you have been looking for someone to pass your knowledge to. This baby will likely be a rapt audience for your antics. I will not need to worry about entertaining this child as long as I have you around.

Even as I realize that you will love to be the one who knows more, can do more, I will miss that you will no longer be my littlest baby. As soon as your little sister is born, she will take over that role as the baby of the family. But make no mistake; you will forever be MY baby boy.