What are you looking at?

My own Doogie Howser, M.D.

In my 31 years of life, I've completed almost three pregnancies, but it is yesterday's brief conversation with a grade-schooler that wins the award, hands down, for "Most Shocking Gestating Dialogue."

SCENE: Retail outlet store, where Luke and I were stocking up on summer clothes and baby onesies (our first time buying for three children at once, OMG). Kara and Nathan were occupying themselves by an activity table filled with toys, where a few other kids were also hanging out. Several of them were from the same family, including a little boy who was maybe five or six years old - seven, tops - and who I was already having issues with mainly but not completely because he kept grabbing things out of Nathan's hand.

BOY: (eyes me up and down) You're going to have a baby.

FREMA: That's right.

BOY: (To Kara) Your mom's going to have a baby.

KARA: (Enthusiastically, because she loves interacting with other kids) Yes!

BOY: (Back to me, matter-of-factly) They're going to cut you open!

FREMA: (In her brain) ...

FREMA: (Actual words) They don't have to.*

FREMA: (In her brain, a second time) ...

-------

Twenty-four hours later, and I'm still not sure what to make of this. I wasn't wearing my "C-sectioners Unite!" sandwich board, and layers of clothing combined with an impressive amount of belly flab ensured that my scar wasn't visible to the general public, so unless he had x-ray vision or possessed a Sixth Sense type of power that alerts him when a surgical patient is near, I can only assume that BOY's mother had gone under the knife herself and shared that tidbit with her son. Which, okay; I personally don't think I'd choose to give that young a child that much information, but then again, my oldest still wears a pull-up at night, so who knows? Really, I was most surprised that a) he apparently believes all babies are delivered this way and b) he chose to talk about it in such a manner with A COMPLETE STRANGER.

For those to whom this applies: What's the weirdest thing a child has said to you about your pregnancy?

* Actually, my doctor and I are in agreement that they pretty much DO have to cut me open, but hell no was I going to support that kid's logic. Seriously, I've seen infants share toys better.

34 weeheeheeheeks

I'm not sure why I felt compelled to include all those he he hees in the title, except that I am quite ready to be done with this gestating business, thank you very much, so if you read it in a whiny, slightly labored tone of voice, you'll have a pretty good grasp of where I am emotionally. You are welcome.

 

I don't have any shots of me at this point with Nathan, but I do with Kara. Click here to check them out.

(Sidenote: I will have you know that the maternity coat pictured in that entry has more than paid for itself. I've used it twice, Samantha's used it once, and I even lent it to a sister of my coworker's. Money well spent, for sure.)

Current stats: To date, I have put on approximately 15 pounds, making Baby Brother's the slowest weight gain of all three pregnancies. I credit some of this to doing a slightly better job of managing what I'm eating - less red meat, more salads, fruits, and vegetables (though my sugar intake is atrocious) - and some of this to being on my feet more as a mom to two little kids (though Luke continues to be wonderful by handling the laundry, cooking, and majority of post-dinner clean-up). When all is said and done, I doubt I'll hit 30 pounds by the time the baby is born. You wouldn't know it, though, because I feel so much heavier this time around, and much more aware of my size. It truly does feel like this child could fall out of me at any given moment. Others must agree: I can't tell you how many times people have widened their eyes or covered their mouths in shock after I tell them when I'm due.

"Do you really think you'll go that long?" (This is where I pull out my mom card and gleefully reply that, as a matter of fact, I do think I'll go that long, because I've done this twice before and this is just the way I carry.)

"But you're carrying so low!"

"Your feet and your shoulders look okay, no swelling." (Thank you, doctor, for your thorough exam and expert wisdom.)

"You look like you're going to have that baby any day!"

"We'll need to get you something for your desk, huh?" (You know - because of my gargantuan belly.)

"Will your belly go back to normal?" (Okay, that one was from Kara and therefore not offensive at all, but I couldn't resist.)

"Honey, you look miserable."

That last one was said to me by a complete stranger last weekend while waiting for a quarter pound of roast beef at the deli. All I could do was smile thinly and say, "I'm not," before turning away. I don't care if you have lady parts or if you've delivered children, if that's the way you choose to start a conversation, we are not in this together.

See? Not miserable at all!

I'm operating on some level of fatigue almost all the time. Baby Brother is super active almost all the time. And now that we're in the final stretch, I'm starting to panic over all of our to-dos almost all the time. 

The cars need to be cleaned out. The infant base needs to be installed. The paint still needs touching up. Nathan's baby book still isn't done. We haven't cleared out kitchen space for baby bottles. The baby gear needs a steam clean.

Oh. And we need a name.

The front-runner we've been carrying around all this time, a name I love and would still be happy to use in the first name slot, will likely be delegated to middle name status to fit into our new naming strategy.

I go back and forth on nursing almost every day - sometimes eager to give it another go, other times determined to crack open the formula on Day One. And almost every time, I reject any concrete decision I've reached and instead encourage myself to adopt a "Just For Today" type attitude and not look any further than that. It's been working really well so far! (end sarcasm)

I have also started getting more anxious about handling those initial weeks and months of babyhood, as crystal-clear details of Nathan's newborn period have been coming back to me with a vengeance. Nodding off during a three a.m. feeding when the sky is dark and everyone else is asleep. Bouncing him to sleep an hour later, eyes barely open, with one hand in a bag of Donettes because eating something is the only thing keeping me from passing out, feeling utterly alone. Struggling to manage the stairs after my c-section. Crying over clothes that still didn't fit.

I'm sure this is true for most women, but I am completely out of my element in the newborn period.

(Edited to add: It wasn't until reading Eva's comment below that I realized I completely glazed over Kara's period. Aside from nursing difficulties, she was actually a dream baby - sleeping through the night at 6 weeks, content so long as she was snuggled, etc. But still, she was my first baby, and just learning how to be a mom was overwhelming enough. So, while I am open to having an easier experience this time, I'm trying to be realistic and just accept that I don't handle infancy well.)

Before I get too panicked, though, I try to remember the good things. Snuggling on the couch. The grasp of a baby hand around your finger. Watching siblings fall in love. The knowledge that each day brings you one step away from the most difficult period of that first year and one step closer to a wonderfully new version of normal.

It has also helped to think of upcoming seasonal milestones and benchmarking where we should be at that point. This has been particularly encouraging to do with a summer baby. For example:

• By Halloween, the baby will be four months old and sleeping in longer patches at night, if not all the way through. I will definitely have adjusted to being back at work by then. And won't it be fun for the five of us to go trick-or-treating together?
• By Thanksgiving, the baby will be almost five months old. Nathan did so well in the baby carrier at that age, so we should be out and about as much as we want. (Not that I plan to wait that long to use it, of course.) The fall weather will be perfect for hikes at the park. Also, I should be in much better shape physically than I've ever been at this point, so long as I'm consistent with running and my Jillian Michaels videos. (I'm already physched to try her newest one, Ripped in 30. Yes, please!)
• By Christmas, the baby will be six months old, experimenting with solids and crawling. What a fun December it will be.
• By Luke's and my sixth wedding anniversary next May, the baby will be almost a year old and most likely walking. Walking! Surely all three kids should be easy enough for someone else to care for them overnight, so Mommy and Daddy can sneak in a getaway.
• Speaking of May, the Mini is in May. I so want to run the Mini next year! Training would be another way to keep my fitness level on track.
• By next June, the baby will be one year and on the way to ditching bottles, formula (if we choose to go that route), and purees. We should also be free of our credit card debt by then. The perfect ingredients for an active, amazing summer.

Each baby is different, so I of course can't bank on all those milestones coming to fruition, but generally speaking, these are the stages where I remember things becoming significantly easier to manage with both Kara and Nathan, so I'm allowing myself to be hopeful. Plus, even if it doesn't, it's really the overall message I'm clinging to: that every day does get easier. I know this from personal experience now. It really does get easier.

The Toddler Days of Summer

The last day of Kara's parents' day out program was last Friday, and since families were invited, I took the day off work to attend the annual end-of-year carnival with Luke and the kids. There were game stations and dollar-store prizes, a bounce house that neither child took to very well, a fire engine tour they both adored, and a creepy old-man magician that had Luke and I rolling our eyes every five minutes. Overall, though, it was a neat way to pass the time.

 

This picture has nothing to do with the carnival, but man, is my family gorgeous or what?

The closer we get to bringing this baby home (five weeks from tomorrow, not that anyone's counting), sometimes it's hard to remember that the two kids we have now actually started out as newborns. Babies are lovely for sniffing and snuggling, but the older Kara and Nathan get, the more fun we all have together -- even planning for the future has become more interesting, as we imagine what lies ahead for our party of five.

Precisely because they aren't babies anymore, and also because one of my biggest stressors is making sure the kids have a fun summer despite the initial turmoil that is sure to result from welcoming a new baby, Luke and I are working hard with the money we have at our disposal (thank you, savings) to sign them up for a couple of things that force us to get them out of the house. They'll both take a nine-week tumbling class at our town's rec center starting in two weeks, and Kara is signed up for a week-long nature camp sponsored by a local park for late July. We also learned of a week-long vacation Bible study class offered through the same church that runs our parents' day out program, for the low, low price of FIVE DOLLARS, so we'll register Kara for that as well. I wish there was more for Nathan to do, but those last two require the kids to be fully potty-trained, so he'll just have to wait until next year. Really, though, just getting him in the tumbling class is a big deal, since he's never done anything like that before. It should be a nice transition into his starting "school" in the fall.

We researched a number of activities in the Indy metro area for ideas of things to do, but the nearest YMCA doesn't have anything for the toddler age range, and the closest Gymboree is 45 minutes away. Also, frankly, our bank account can't handle many more unplanned expenses without putting our maternity leave savings at risk. Still, though, I'm excited about what we do have planned, and we recently renewed our zoo membership, and we're already frequent visitors of our local library, and there are several neighborhood playgrounds in our zip code, which means there are plenty of opportunities for additional fun. Once Baby Brother is here and we know he's healthy, Luke and I have already talked about using more of our savings to buy additional memberships to the city's Children's Museum and the rec center where tumbling is being held, as it has fantastic indoor and outdoor swimming facilities AND a gym AND exercise classes AND is within walking distance from our house. There's even been talk of going to the beach again, like we did last year.

I've been trying not to get so hung up on our summer plans, but it's hard. There were actually a couple more classes at the rec center that we could've enrolled the kids into (dance and music), and I would have done it without a second thought until Luke wisely talked me down, reminding me about the zoo and the library and the parks and also of our commitment to keeping them active even while I'm recovering from my (last!!!) c-section. That's been the kicker for me, I think: knowing it will take me the majority of the first six weeks to feel anything like myself again and how unavailable I will be during that time to do things like hike, swim, or even take long walks on the trail.

Fortunately, Luke and I have already talked at length about this, and we agree that it will be important for him to be out and about with them just like he is when I'm at work so that I recuperate from surgery without feeling guilty. After that, though, I hope to be more on my feet so that we can make the best of the second six weeks we have left. This summer will definitely have its challenges, but I still want to make it the best one we've had yet.

What are you doing this summer?

33 weeks

I heard Janet Jackson's "Miss You Much" on the way to Subway today, and it reminded me of all things I miss about my pre-pregnancy life. At 33 weeks, the list includes:

• The shape of my face (aka non-puffy)
• Eating any type of spaghetti sauce I want without fear of indigestion
• Being able to get in and out of bed without grunting in pain
• Sleeping without a pillow cushioned against my belly
• Walking in heels without resembling the Leaning Tower of Pisa (Don't worry, I switched to flats months ago)
• Running
• Sitting the children on my lap instead of barely fitting them onto my knee
• Wearing pants with buttons instead of elastic waistbands
• Not worrying that my shirt is going to creep up and expose what must be the largest uterus on Planet Earth
• Overall energy level, zest for life

And... the photographic evidence:

 

This was taken last week; originally I intended to post a more current photo with this entry, but after reviewing the results of this morning's shoot I found that the lighting on my face is all wrong and part of my hair is sticking up and really, it would be better for everyone to gaze upon a version of my visage from happier days.

Fatigue continues to plague me constantly, whether I get eight hours of sleep or five. There is occasional swelling in my feet after a long day, but it's easily cured by putting them up the minute I get home. Two things that did worry me this past weekend were intermittent pains in my stomach and some light vomiting after taking my vitamin cocktail, so I called my OB/GYN's office on Monday and was seen that day to check my blood pressure, urine levels, and the baby's heartbeat. Luckily, everything is looking good; as for the vomiting, my doctor and I think it was the result of switching from the premium-grade vitamin samples I was using back to the generic ones I had been taking all along. They didn't make me throw up before, but that was before I was prescribed the iron supplement. I now have almost a month's worth of samples in my possession, which should see me through almost to the end of the pregnancy, and by that point, I may just pay the piper to avoid making out with the porcelain throne again.

Quite a lot has happened since the last time we pow-wowed, the biggest being Luke's follow-through with the snip at the end of April (the timing with the royal wedding was purely coincidental, I swear). He is just now beginning to feel like himself again, so I feel okay to talk about it.

The planner in me is so relieved to have this taken care of and cross such a huge thing off our post-partum to-do list, and for the first time in my life, I am absolutely, positively, one-hundred-percent certain that I do not want to be pregnant ever again. Still, though, on the morning of, there was a huge rock in my stomach that stayed with me for the first half of the day, wondering if we were doing the right thing. Was I being selfish asking Luke to do this when I could just as easily get on the pill, despite my misgivings? Were we being fiscally irresponsible by spending precious hospital dollars to have this done, knowing that my insurance deductible would be met after Baby Brother's arrival and we could score a tubal for free? Was I really comfortable with the idea of the two of us never making a baby together again?

I always knew I would be sad when the time came to do something permanent with our reproductive parts; I just didn't know how sad.

Luke and I talked it out, and while we were both nervous, we also knew logically it was the best long-term choice for our family, and one we both could handle without regret. And so it was done, and now I have come full circle, because seriously. Giving birth is a miracle, and I will always be grateful for being a part of it, but I NEVER WANT TO BE PREGNANT AGAIN. Thanks, honey, for taking one for the team.

The urologist did ask Luke if we wanted to postpone the procedure until after Baby Brother was born, "just in case," but as devastated as we'd be over anything happening to this little guy, it wouldn't change the fact that we are just not up for another pregnancy.

Morbid "what-if" conversations with your spouse: yet another perk of the whole marriage and family planning package!

The second big thing is that we finally made a dent in Baby Brother's bedroom. We stuck with our decision to keep the paint and wall art as is, but we did rearrange the furniture so that it actually feels like it was set up for a brand new person. It's not picture-ready yet, as there is a pile of laundry that appears to be mating with itself next to the crib, but it finally feels like progress is being made.

 

The kids are doing great. Kara's last official day of "school" was last week, but this week they're throwing a last-hurrah carnival for all the kids and their families, so I will be taking the day off work so the four of us can attend together. One of the best decisions we made was to send Kara to this program, even if we could only swing one day a week; she has so enjoyed the Fridays where she gets to play with her friends and interact with her teachers and make "heart projects" (her original pronounciation of "art projects") to bring home.

I wish our finances and our family situation allowed us to send her to the church's preschool program in the fall, because Luke and I both know she would thrive in one, but with a tight budget and a newborn on the way, it just isn't feasible for us this year. But she's only three, and she will still have her one day a week, as will Nathan, and we can pay for those things without losing sleep, so it will have to be enough for now.

 

Inspired by Emily's recent post on summer strategizing, I fully intended to talk about Kara and Nathan's plans here, but this entry is already long enough, and with my sporadic posting schedule, it's probably best that I not place all of my blogging eggs into this one basket - er, post. Until next time, then!

Mother-daughter moment

You can count Kara and me as being among the bazillion people to check out the royal wedding on April 29.

Typically, I don't follow the happenings of the British monarchy, but my boss, bless her heart, took a vacation day to be able to watch all the coverage in real time, and her excitement and the buzz among my coworkers was contagious, so I set my alarm for 6:10 a.m. and snuck downstairs to catch some of the marital pomp and circumstance.

Luke and Nathan were asleep, but Kara had crawled into bed with us sometime before six. She was quiet when I left the room, but fifteen minutes later, I heard her call out from upstairs, "I want to watch with you, Mommy!" (Luke had explained to her what I was doing, and he knew I wanted to let her join in the festivities if she woke up in time.)

So, for about twenty minutes, until I absolutely had to turn off the TV and hop in the shower for work, Kara and I cuddled together on the living room couch and took in the wedding. I told her she was watching a real prince and princess get married, and that they were getting married in a church just like where we go on Sundays. She thought about that for a minute, then said, "That's a church like our church, with a playroom!"

I laughed. "No, honey, this church definitely does NOT have a playroom."

I held her close and massaged my fingers over her scalp as she rested her head alongside my belly, every once and a while turning her face to me to show a big smile. Baby Brother was in rare form, and she was able to experience some of his most impressive acrobatics to date. "Mommy, I felt the baby pop!" she said.

At one point, I grew misty-eyed thinking that, at almost three and a half, it's very possible that Kara will remember sharing this moment with me, even if her memory of it is fuzzy and incomplete.

It was such a small part of our day, but Kara talked about that wedding on and off all weekend. "Mommy, I really liked watching your wedding with you," she said at first.

"Honey, that wasn't my wedding, that was the royal wedding."

"I mean, I really liked watching the royal wedding with you."

Me, too, sweetheart. Me, too.