Thursday, October 27, 2011

Here we go!!

I'm in labor.  Contractions started at 3:30 this morning.  Pretty sure my water broke...although it seems to be just a trickle.

Waaaaay back in February, I peed on a stick six days before my period was due and for the 8th time in as many moths, it was negative.

Thankfully, a few days later when I actually missed my period, I realized that there was a slight chance that I was off on my ovulation date, so I tried again and it was blatantly, obviously, two-pink-lines positive.

I fell to my knees in the middle of my mom's living room floor and cried out with utter joy and thanksgiving and happiness, "Thank you, Lord!  Thank you, thank you thank you thank you thank you!"

I can't believe that the time is finally here to meet our little girl.  I have loved you since before you ever were conceived.

The next day or so is going to be so different than anything you have ever known; but don't worry.  We will take care of you.

I hope you know how much your mom and dad and big brother love you and how excited we are to meet you.

We'll see you soon.

Love,

mom

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Will she know him?

When Little G was 10 weeks old, I took a trip to Pennsylvania so he could meet my dad who was in the hospital.  As you can see from the video - they were smitten with each other.

video

It was easy to convince myself that they somehow were souls that were bound to each other.  It seemed like my dad could look into Little G's eyes and see where he had come from...and it felt like Little G was trying to tell something to my dad about where he was going.

I know it sounds silly, but in the early days of Little G's life, when I would look at him and wonder about how I was possibly going to teach him about the most important thing in our lives, God, I would be overcome with a sense of peace that he must know more than I could ever tell him because he was just there.

So, with the second anniversary of my father's death looming ahead and with the impending birth of my daughter, I am finding myself hoping that my baby girl somehow knows my dad.  I know she'll never be able to speak those words to me, and I know that a lot of this is just me projecting what I wish could be true onto my unborn child.

But what if.

(picture of my sister and my father from the summer of 1970)

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Update

I have been having contractions since last week to only minor avail.  If you were a reader back when I had Little G, than you know that I  had some Braxton-hicks contractions but nothing crazy and finally had to be induced 4 days after his due date due to low fluids.  The night before I was induced, I did have a few contractions and I ended up 2cm dilated by the time I went in.

Last Thursday, I had about an hour of contractions 10-12 minutes apart and the next day when I had my OB appointment, I was 1-2cm dilated.  So in my head, I've been waiting for this baby to show up.  I would love to go into labor naturally instead of being pushed like I was with Little G...but since I have never gone into labor naturally, I have no idea what is normal and what isn't.  

Over the weekend, I could have sworn I was going to have a baby on Sunday...which clearly didn't happen.  I was having contractions all day in 30 minute intervals and at night they ramped up to every 10 minutes, and then I went to bed and they stopped.

Yesterday, I barely had any.

This morning, I've had them every 30 minutes or so.

I decided to stop thinking about it...except that I can't.  I mean, Little G is at daycare, I'm home and have minimal projects left on my to-do list that I continue to procrastinate over. And instead I'm just biding my time until baby decides to show up.  Which is killing me.  Ok...not killing me...but totally driving me nuts.

Anyway, figured I would write this up to keep you all posted if you were so inclined to care and to have it for my reference for when I eventually get to write down a birth story!!  Hope that's soon!

Sunday, October 23, 2011

We've been swindled.

This is Swindler the Snail.

He is a toddler toy.  
Currently, Little G is holding on tightly to him while napping in his big-boy bed.  BIG BOY.  Not toddler.

Meet Ollie the Owl.



This is the toy that we went to the store to pick out.  It will be a gift from Little G to his sister when she is born.

Meet Adam the Airplane.  

This is the less expensive and more developmentally appropriate toy my husband TRIED to convince Little G to get for himself since there was no way we were leaving with a toy for the new baby and not Little G.

Instead, Little G refused to give up Swindler the Snail, so I thought...why don't we get Adam the Airplane as well and then Adam can be the baby's gift to Little G when she finally shows up.

If you're paying attention, you'll realize that this means we left the store with three toys.  An owl for Little G to give to his sister.  An airplane for Little G's sister to give to him. And an orange wooden snail that was not on the list of items to purchase but is now being snuggled with so tightly Little G may never even care about Adam the Airplane.  Or his little sister for that matter.

Damn Swindler!

Friday, October 21, 2011

I'm too sexy for my car

Did you know I drive a muscle car?

Ok...not really.  I mean...I AM currently driving one...but it is a rental.

You see, about a month ago, I was leaving the parking lot from my pre-natal massage appointment all relaxed and mellow and zen and ran right into another car.  The damage wasn't too bad...I was going to a total of 2.5 MPH and the other car was parked, but still.  Ouch.

Oh yeah...I am sooooo cool.

Since we had a little bit of time before the baby's due date, we decided it was a good idea to get the car fixed.  So now, I have been the proud driver of a 2010 Silver Dodge Charger for the past two weeks.  I have a few things to say.

I hate this car.

It was the biggest one available in my insurance company's this-is-what-we'll-cover-daily-rental-allotment, so I chose it over a dinky looking Chevy.  But yeah...I hate this car.

The car is annoying for a bazillion reasons; it guzzles gas; the transmission is whacked; getting my 33 lb two year old into the carseat in the back through the 4" of space left between the seat and the car and NOT pulling a major muscle or going into labor is next to impossible.

But, my biggest grievance is that the windshield is ridiculously small.  As in, I ride with the seat all the way back because I have crazy-long legs and the roof of the car comes so far forward that in order to see a traffic light while stopped in front of it I need to lean all the way forward and look up.  Which would would be annoying if I wasn't pregnant, but is downright impossible at the moment.

The car is so oppressively confining that even Little G got in it for the first time and said excitedly, "We're in a tunnel!!"

My friend pointed out to me that I probably wouldn't have as much of an issue seeing the traffic lights if I drove the car in the proper muscle-car seat alignment...i.e. if I had the back of the seat reclined and drove with one hand like a low rider.

And I actually see her point as I have witnessed a few people driving their Dodge Chargers in such a manner.  The problem is, and I hate to be a stickler on this, I would never. get. out. Like...never.  As in, I would birth my child in the car just so I could get up.

However, it is sexy.  And really, what could be better for my self esteem than crawling out of a muscle car 38 weeks pregnant with my hands on my back and my ass in the air.

Meeeee-ow!





Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Aaaaaand...I'm done.

I know the last thing any of you want to read about it me complaining about this pregnancy...but oh. my. GOD. I'm dying.

Seriously.

I don't remember being THIS uncomfortable with Little G for this long.  And I seem to be much more anxious about having another baby than I was about having the first...which makes sense...I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
I'm actually pretty nonchalant about the whole birthing process.  I went over my birth plan from Little G and pretty much laughed at how specific I was.  (I guess now I can understand a LITTLE bit more why the doctors and nurses at my SIL's hospital roll their eyes whenever a 1st time mom comes in with a birth plan.  Rumor is they have a pool on if mom's with birth plans will go C-section...but you didn't hear that here.)  But yeah, while it would be nice to wear my own clothes and have a dimly lit room and have people talk in hushed voices and not have anyone yelling numbers at me...I'm pretty much ok with whatever may or may not go down.

Bringing baby home...now that's another story.  I am totally freaked out.  But...trying to remain calm.  I mean, my biggest issue will be getting Little G out the door and to daycare with a newborn in the mix...on the weekends, my husband will be home and we'll be able to tag team.

But for now, I am trying very, very hard to live in the moment.  It's just hard to live in the moment when the moment includes constipation, painful Braxton-hicks contractions, exhaustion, hunger, lack-of appetite, an excruciatingly painful pelvic issue whereby my pelvis is apparently ready to give birth and has completely let go of any control that might have allowed it to NOT feel like I was continually being kicked in the groin and the sense that a 5,000 lb baby is trying to exit out my very, VERY stretched belly button.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

I have confidence...

It is not a surprise to anyone who has read my blog in the past that my confidence level in myself as a mother can wax and wane like the tides of the ocean.  Sometimes I feel really on top of things, and sometimes I feel like a complete and total failure.

A couple of months ago, I posted about a failure moment I had with my son on a private forum made up of various blog acquaintances I have who are all in the midst of the parenting game; whether it be already parenting or hoping to parent someday.  Specifically, my post was about my reaction to Little G biting me, HARD, on the thigh.  Enough to leave a pretty significant bruise.  I got ragingly angry and I hit him on the belly to get him to release his teeth from my leg and proceeded to yell obscenities at him while dragging him up our stairs.  It was, without a doubt, my worst parenting moment to date.  I am not proud of my actions.  I can not change what happened.  I posted about the incident while still very angry and upset and looking for some sort of validation although, not validation that I was 'normal' (even though that's what I requested) but rather that I was truly the worst parent on the planet.

And then I got it.  Someone responded to my post with admonition for my actions and recommendations for child abuse hot lines.  For the first time, I got the validation I was seeking.  Up until this commenter, I had only received supportive feedback that I wasn't alone; that while it wasn't my best parenting moment, it wasn't the end of the world; that there was a whole world of parents out there who really were doing a much worse job than me.  I had been incapable of allowing myself to believe the supportive comments, even though they came from other mothers, my own mother and my sister.  And then this one person agreed with me and managed to make me feel even worse than I could make myself feel.

Except something really strange happened.  I have always said that I am my own worst critic and that I would NEVER judge anyone as harshly as I judge myself.  So when someone else finally came along and judged me more harshly than I was judging myself, I realized something: I would never, ever allow someone to judge and/or treat me as harshly as I treat myself. Finally, I allowed myself to believe that the supporters were right.  Finally, I gave myself permission to give myself a break.

It is funny to me that it took someone else judging me as harshly as I judge myself to find the confidence to say that no one can treat me that way.  And if I won't allow someone else to treat me that way than I most certainly should not allow myself to treat me that way.

I am a good mother, I'm not just saying it this time, I believe it.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Yet another pre-school post

Phew...my husband and I have just concluded our 6th of 8 pre-school visits and are thoroughly confused. While we know that Little G will thrive at any of the schools that we choose for him for next year, we are finding ourselves stuck as we consider his future. On the one hand, he's just over two, so we don't want to over-think it. On the other hand, we both see how important a good education is to advance in life and we want to provide the best that we can and that means starting early.

Here is what we DO know: We are definitely leaning towards NOT sending our kids through Boston Public Schools (BPS) for high school, if not starting as early as 7th grade.

With that in mind, here are the variables that we are facing as we consider pre-schools:

1) Montessori vs. traditional preschool - we visited our first Montessori school today and left with a few impressions. Mine was that I totally believe and can see that the kids who start with a Montessori background come out of it ahead of the curve...but what do they do when they get to 'regular school'...not necessarily how do they integrate, but how do they continue to stay motivated to STAY ahead of the curve? Also, what about the home environment? I am admittedly not as willing to do child-led activities in my own home because quite frankly, I'm a control freak. For example, we have a rice bucket, and I rarely let Little G use it because I don't feel like cleaning up the mess and he's not that great at cleaning it himself - as in he tries to clean it but really makes it worse and then gets mad if I try to help...yeah...so I'm sort of the anti-child-led learning at home parent and yet, I can totally see the benefits of child-led learning as long as someone else is doing it. Would this type of disconnect be detrimental to his thriving in a Montessori school environment?

2) An independent, 2 yr preschool feeding into BPS vs. a school that takes him through 6th grade and beyond - Like I said, we don't expect Little G to continue in BPS through High School for a variety of reasons. We haven't ruled out sending him to BPS for K-6th which means that a traditional preschool that lasts 2 years seems like it would work well for him to transition into kindergarten...conversely, there are some preschool options where the school extends to 6th grade that aren't Montessori (like the school we visited first or a local Christian school). If we're hoping to send him to private school after 6th grade, will he have a leg up from having attended a private school already up until that point? Will he be at a disadvantage coming from BPS up until that point?

Anyone have some any insight or advice since at this point we are just feeling completely overwhelmed!

Thanks in advance for your wisdom.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Saturday, October 08, 2011

Coming soon

As I round the corner on the last few weeks of my second pregnancy, I am getting increasingly more uncomfortable.  Much more uncomfortable than I was with Little G.  This is for a couple of reasons, one of which is that when I was pregnant with Little G I sat at a desk all day and had time to nap.  These days, I'm running around like a chicken with my head cut off!

This past week was Little G's first full week in daycare and he had a blast.  One would think that would mean that I would have some time off for some R&R in these waning days...but instead, I have scheduled every last appointment on the planet between now and her due date.  You name it: the retinal specialist to check out my detached retina and confirm I am ok to push; the dentist; hair cut; waxing; pre-natal massages; meetings with my doula; oil change for my car; another quick run to the dealer to get something on my car fixed; a week without my car to get the damage along the side fixed; seven different pre-school visits!!  All in addition to the weekly OB appointments (this week I ended up having two so he could do a cervical check).  Plus I have a few more items for some clients that I am trying to wrap up and I haven't even begun to start the changes in the nursery to transition it to 'her' room so she doesn't have her big brother's stuff all over her space!  At this point, I'm seriously looking forward to our baby girl arriving if for no other reason than I will HAVE to stop!

I am moving much more slowly these days, so while I have only gained 10 lbs during this pregnancy up until this point (keep in mind, I gained 40 total with my first pregnancy), my lethargy means that I can no longer gorge on ice cream without seeing the results the next time I step on the scale at the Dr's office.  But gorge is what I want to do...it is my comfort when I am stressed and I'm feeling a little bit stressed!  I'm also surprisingly anxious.  I'm not necessarily an anxious person, and I certainly didn't allow myself to get caught up in anxiety when I was getting ready to birth Little G...but for some reason, this time around, even though I've already done it once very successfully, I'm totally freaked out.  I'm guessing it is because I know too much!

She's almost here, and I am trying so hard to hold on to this time in our lives when we are a family of three.  I can barely remember just being a family of two, so I can imagine, that when we jump to four, I will quickly lose sight of what our lives were like as just the three of us.  And I know that being a family of four will be totally awesome; but I also want to be careful not to wish this time away.

So I wait...and fill my time with a bazillion things to do. 

But soon...soon.  

She'll be here soon.