What should probably be a few different blog posts

I forgot about this picture until I found it on my camera today. My dad made Zekey a robot costume while my parents were visiting a while back. He played with it constantly for about a week, at which point it was destroying in a failed attempt to use it as a slide.
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Thank the heavens for 3 day weekends. I was able to fit in not only one on one time with each of my boys but even one on one time with my husband (I very cleverly pushed Zeke's entire day's schedule an hour ahead on Valentines day, which resulted exactly as planned with in him in bed asleep at 7:30 none the wiser and the two of us able to enjoy a nice romantic dinner with just a newborn in arms...and since Mal went to bed himself around 9 we even then got *gasp* alone time). Josh also got one on one time with each of his sons this weekend. Zekey enjoyed this so much that when Mal fell asleep and I went to join the two of them for their joint nap Zeke pushed me off the bed and told me "no". I went and slept on the couch.

Now that I think about it, not only did I get one on one time with each of the 3 men in my life, I even got an hour completely and totally to myself, my first in over a month. My Valentines gift from Josh was the ability to take a baby-free bath (and also a surprise flower delivery, though I had said no "real" gifts this year). Josh got the above mentioned romantic dinner, as well as the delicious velvet cake balls that Zeke was kind enough to help me make.

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Zeke is my little helper in all things. Especially in cooking and dishes. Its amazing how having a newborn in the house serves as a reminder of how much Zeke has grown and developed. It has only made us closer. Its funny how I've taken for granted the way I can talk to him now, and how much that he understands. I often feel like Zeke is my little partner more than a plain dependent. He can grab me a diaper and wipes for the baby, or help me set the table for dinner, and often he gets to Malachi and comforts him with binky or soft touch or turning on the vibration in his chair before I can.
He is growing up in so many ways. Not only does he have his face and body parts, the hand motions to all of our nursery songs, counting to 3, and all the animals and their sounds down pat but I recently discovered that he knows all his colors as well. For a long time I've thought that he just knew the colors yellow and red but he picked a colors book from the library this week and went on to name them all (poo-purl was my personal favorite). I guess next I will have to start on his ABC's, which I am sad to admit I have done nothing with because of my sheer overwhelment with the idea of teaching someone to read.

His intelligence is almost scary at times. Especially during those "he is always listening" moments, like when I mention to Josh that we need to go to the grocery store today and suddenly we notice Zeke putting on his shoes and coat. Or when he learns to open YET ANOTHER kind of child safety lock. Its a good thing that Im not huge into child-proofing and a great thing that I keep very few toxic cleaners in the house, because that kid breaks into any child proofed container after a few hours of studying. I have resorted to all of my non-homemade cleaners being kept in the basement (he loves to clean so much that these are irresistible to him) and not allowing Zeke to even look at child safely locks anymore.
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I just finished the book The Highly Sensitive Child. It was recommended by a friend who read it and immediately thought of my Ezekiel. It was good timing for me because I have been thinking alot about the balance of nature vs nurture lately.

As in, Zeke is very sensitive. Im not talking about emotionally sensitive, by the way, although that is part of it, but sensitive to outside stimulus. For example he thrives off of a predictable schedule and an uncluttered environment, he is overwhelmed by loud and/or crowded places, he is easily upset by tense or dramatic TV, while he is very adaptable in the long run he is slow to accept new situations and people, ect. How much of that is nature (ie that is the way he was born) or nurture (that is the way he was raised).

The book's stance is that most of it is nature, and that 15% of people are born highly sensitive. It goes on to describe and explain what high sensitivity is and how it works and give tips on how to handle this in your child, as well as point out the wonderful things about this, lets admit it, sometimes frustrating personality trait. The best part of the book for me, however, is just the reassurance that its probably nature. Being highly sensitive myself (I also hate loud noise, thrive off of schedule, cant stand clutter, always overwhelmed, and cant watch horror movies, tear jerkers, or CSI-type TV) I've always been slightly afraid that I created this monster. Well, I guess either way I did but at least I did it genetically and not by poor parenting. ;)

The book has a great chapter on the 9 temperament traits. The Positive Discipline series also goes into that and while I totally recommend any of the Positive Discipline books, this book xplains them a lot better. The 9 temperament traits are the kind of thing that I just eat up, although I fully realize their uselessness. If you know who your child is, and the way they are, what is the real use in putting a label on it? But anyone that does Facebook quizes totally understands the draw.

Anyways, Zeke is up so I better jet.
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But real quick, before I forget, at the grocery store an elderly lady said to Josh and I "He's very friendly isnt he?" reffering to Zeke. Let me assure you, I love my child, I love his sensitivity and there are so soo many great things that come from it. But one thing that has come from it is the fact that that no one, NO ONE, has ever EVER called Zeke friendly. Ever. There has never been any reason to. He is so very shy and so very untrusting of strangers that his typical response to them is either hiding or glaring.

Yet she called him friendly...because he WAS.

Josh and I literally walked 4 more steps and then did a happy dance.

respect

What kind of a world would we live in, I wonder, if parents treated their children with the respect that they give to any stranger.

Ive just heard people say the absolute stupidest, meanest, most unthoughtful stuff to their kids lately. Its almost as if we dont realize that they are people too and deserve the same basic decency as everyone else.

Think about it. If your spouse falls down you dont tell them "You're fine, get back up." You ask if they are ok, you go to help them up. If your friend is having a rough day and overreacts to some situation you don't tell her "Well someone is cranky today arent they?" No, you give her the emotional support she needs, you listen to her vent a bit. If you are upset at a co-worker's or employee's behavior you dont call him out in front of everyone, you discuss it in private.

I know that kids are kids, and that we are adults, and that because of that we are on a level above them in a way. But still, I think the world might be a little better if maybe we gave a little respect. Little things like not embarrassing them by sharing information you know they dont want shared, asking their thoughts on the little things that affect their life so much, treating their emotions as real, their opinions as valid.

Just think how amazing it felt as a child when an adult listened to you, I mean really listened to you as if you had something to say that was worth hearing. Maybe it shouldnt have felt so amazing...maybe that's just the way it should be.

Anyways, Im working on red velvet cake balls for V-day so I better run (I was going to make petite fours and then decided it was WAY too much work, if you have 5 hours or so I cant recommend this recipe enough but unfortunately I don't have that kind of time this year).

Keep your eyes out for some future posts I want to do on Zeke's newest talents (including knowing his colors!!) and my newest obsession with wanting a "sister-wife" Big Love syle (honestly the whole sharing Josh thing is mattering less and less in mine eye...)

A Mal post

The way Mal curls his body into mine is a lovely reminder that I am very literally home to him. My body, its distinct temperature, scent, and rhythm was his home for a long 9 months and a few weeks will not, cannot, change that. I am soaking up every second of it because a few short months can and will.

It is so rare that Zeke crawls into my arms these days. And even when he does that sense of folding, almost melting, into one is no longer there. Zeke's body no longer remembers what it means to be one, even if mine does. And even though my body does remember, his weight and the way his suddenly oh so long limbs overwhelm my enveloping arms, spilling over in all directions, reminds me that time has passed.

It passes so quickly.

Postpartem

Friday was our first really bad day around here. Zeke was having one of those days. One of those days where he just could. not. behave. It quickly escalated into me having one of those days. One of those days where I just can. not. be. patient. The mixture of which resulted in poor Malachi having his first one of those days. He soaked up all the tension and stress in the house, not to mention the screaming (I will admit both Zeke and I were screaming at times) and could. not. sleep.

By the time Josh walked into the door I had Zeke locked in his room, crying, Mal in the swing, crying, and I was in the kitchen attempting to make dinner and you guessed it, crying. It was my first anxiety attack in maybe a year.

One thing that having Mal has taught me is how truly not normal my hormonal response to having Zeke was. I have always been prone to anxiety and obsessive compulsiveness. I have known these terms, and that I have a tendency toward them, since early high school. You would think I would have recognized, therefore, what was happening. But still, in those early weeks and months after Zeke was born it was all too easy to ignore the signs that something was wrong. Or to shrug them off. Or to tell myself it was just me being me. Or that postpartem anxiety was MORE than what I was experiencing, that I was blowing things up and making a mountain out of normal mommy behaviors.

But it wasn't normal. Everytime he cried I would go into a full panic attack. Sweating, beating heart, racing thoughts, panic. Every time. And Zeke cried a LOT as a baby. I checked his breathing hourly, if not more, all night long. I thought about SIDS 24/7. I raced around the house all day. I couldnt sit, I couldnt be at home, I had to be doing doing doing all the time. Almost daily I broke down into obsessive worry about some little thing.

And partly because I thought it was normal, and partly because I knew it wasnt normal and was ashamed, I told no one.

A friend of mine recently blogged about the postpartem depression she experienced after the birth of her second child. Her honesty in admitting what she went thru inspired me to admit my own battle with postpartem anxiety. Ivory linked to this amazing article about the signs of postpartem depression as well as postpartem anxiety, and I will do the same.

Its just so easy to shrug the warning signs off. Its simple to pretend that everything is ok, out of fear, out of shame, out of simply not understanding that its not.

But please. Dont.

Mindfulness as a Momma of 2

Ive written before about my goal of mindfulness and my related hatred of multi-tasking. Mindfulness, to me, is basically being conscious at all times (or as much as I can be) of what I am doing and why I am doing it. I try to eat with mindfulness, actually tasting and experiencing what I put in my mouth. I try to raise my boys with mindfulness, conscious of what I am saying, what I am doing, and what I want them to gain out of it. I cook and shower and clean all with a mindfulness towards what I am doing. It is difficult to explain, I suppose. But too often we race thru life and never stop to EXPERIENCE. The simplest moments can be full of so much grace and beauty. Multi-tasking makes it almost impossible to experience or enjoy what you are doing. And so I have long waged a war against it.

Yet I have found this week that multi-tasking is unfortunately a fact of life as a mother of 2 children under the age of 2. There have been definite moments where my goal has not been mindfulness so much as survival.

I realized this the other day as I nursed Malachi while wearing him in a sling, read Zeke (perched precariously on the counter) a book (thank the Lord I've memorized most of his books), and made dinner (which is in itself multi-tasking...baking bread, stirring soup, fixing a salad) all at once. I wasn't thinking about any of it. Or more correctly I was thinking about ALL of it, which left me no room to experience any of it.

But I am learning to enjoy those moments in their own way. Because, after all, they are only moments. Another time I will be able to nurse Mal in quiet and gaze into his eyes as he gazes into mine. I will think about all my hopes and dreams for him and I will breathe in the scent of him and know that this time together like this is so sooo short. And next time I read to Zeke I will have the time to relish in his questions and in his comments and wonder at how smart he is getting and laugh at all our inside jokes and point at the particular bunny that we always always point to. Another night I will perhaps make dinner in peace and I will enjoy the sticky resistance of the bread dough and the beautiful color and crispness of the carrots I am shredding for the salad and enjoy the deep aroma of the soup boiling on the stove. I will be able to stop to be thankful for the blessing of so much good food, and I will think about how this nightly service of dinner-making so wonderfully represents my love for my family.

Of course on yet another night I will be sticking a pacifier in Mal's mouth to get him to wait 5 more minutes and plop Zeke in front of some cartoons only to realize we are out of some essential ingredient and then call Josh to pick up a pizza on his way home from work. But that is ok. They are only moments. And its in the most hectic of moments, I'm finding, that a split second of mindfulness brings the most joy.

Amid all the chaos that night I had just a second, a tiny second, where I had the clearness of mine to think "I can do this. I AM doing this. My days will never be so joyfully hectic again."

I will miss you Doritos dipped in sour cream

Like most women I keep quite a few different sizes of pants around. There is the size I actually wear most of the time. Then there is the size that I like to call the "day after" pants. As in what I wear the day after Thanksgiving, the day after my period starts, and the day after I decide I seriously need to stop dipping my Doritos in sour cream and calling it lunch (or even better, first lunch). Those pants have just a tad bit more forgiveness, if you know what I mean. Then of course there is the mandatory pair of pants that I will never actually fit into again but I still hang on to. In my closet this is a size 6 skinny jean that I swear to God my skeleton couldn't wear. I've had 2 children 9 pounds and up...my hips are forever wider then they were in high school.

(Maybe unlike most women I also have an amazing bra collection ranging in sizes 32C all the way to 36F stored under my bed. I could start a Victoria Secret franchise under there if I didn't have to keep them all because who the heck knows where I will settle out in the end.)

But anyways, among all these pants in various sizes there are the jeans that I find myself wearing today. I keep meaning to throw them all away. I swear to myself that I wont ever need them again. But I do. I always do. I would have gotten rid of them if I wasn't too afraid of the possibility that I would have to go thru the embarrassment of buying more.

I am sad to admit that despite all the yoga and all the healthy eating and all the toddler chasing, I gained over 50 pounds during this pregnancy. 50 pounds!! Almost twice as much as I gained with Zeke. And so, while with Zeke I walked out of the hospital and right back into my trusty day after pants (day after you have a baby, dontcha know)...with Malachi I find myself 2 weeks later and still 15 pounds plus.

Luckily my fav. pair of fat pants are super cute size 10s from Maurices. The 10 doesn't sound so bad in my ear and since they usually look ridiculous large on me I don't normally get to wear them. I might throw them in every load of laundry I do for a couple weeks...

Zeke being Zeke (with bonus Mal pics)

I've raised my son right.
No words are really necessary, are they?
Yes, those are pants on his head. My son is a fashionista.
Slide!
Remember what I said about being a fashionista? I dont take it back.
Helping daddy bathe brother.
Josh is an expert at putting babies to sleep.
He was really really impressed with himself.

I was afraid a new baby would mean less pictures of Zeke, when in fact it has meant more because while a camera is always out, newborns rarely do anything worthy of taking a picture. Malachi is a doll but all he does at this point is dirty his diapers, burb like a teenager, and look cross eyed at you.

Anyways those were the outtakes from the last half of our Grandma Melanie week.

The family bed

(A picture of one of our first naptimes. Dont I look properly exhausted and swollen?)

Laying across our bed this morning was (in order) Ziggy, Me, Mony(on top of me), Mal, Josh, then Zeke. And as I gazed across this scene the term "family bed" got a whole new meaning. 2 adults, 2 children, and 2 cats. Thank the Lord for king size beds but even if we didn't have one I dont think we would do it any other way.

We love sleep sharing around here.

Ezekiel spent the first 6 months of his nights split between his bedside bassinet and snuggled between us in our bed. We plan on Mal doing so for about double that time. And Josh and I both dread the day that the early morning hours don't bring the pitter patter of Zeke's feet into our room to join us, blanket and baby Burt tucked under one arm and a quiet "up up" coming from his lips. So I guess I forgot to add Burt in the bed line-up. He is always there as well. Not only did Josh insist on sleeping on that cabbage patch doll for the first oh...18 years of his life...Zekers seems intent to do the same. Burt has a way with Clark boys.

So co-sleeping is obviously a big part of our life right now. And like I said. We love it. It gives us all a better night's sleep since the baby is happy and I can just roll over when it's feeding time. The newest studies say it lowers the risks of SIDS. It increases attatchment since it adds all that lovely bonding and snuggle time.

And I was going to go on about it but I hear a toddler crying so I better run. Life with 2!

pictures galore

My MIL came to help me out this week and let me tell you, I appreciate it. Its so nice to be able to ease into this whole parenting two small children thing. Mal is still just about the easiest baby you can imagine but I am also still healing and getting my bearings about how to fulfill both of my little boys' needs. Anyways, I am very very lucky and having Melanie around has been a huge blessing.

And we are having a wonderful time.

We went to Mobius.
And we have gotten to know grandma better. This has included reading books and baking cookies and all sorts of other fun. In fact Zekey has warmed up to grandma so much that he has been following her around everywhere, even asking to be held and *gasp* allowing her to change his diaper!
But mostly we have just been staying at home, falling in love with our newest family member.
And I think he is falling in love with us right back.

Bonus picture of Zeke who apparently thinks Ive been taking too many pictures...can you see it?

The view from here

The view from here is very good.
Life in general is very very good.
It's Josh's last day of paternity leave today and while I will miss having him home. The family naps with all 4 of us snuggled into our bed, the quiet time playing domino's in the middle of the afternoon, the ability to pass the babies back and forth... Still I feel confident that I can handle it alone, which I wasnt sure I would. Plus my mother in law arrives tonight to help out for the next week, so its not like I will be really alone after all.

This week has been bliss, however. Zeke has exceeded all our expectations and so far loves his baby brother to death. Mal has proven to be an extremely happy baby and in 6 days has only had 1 crying fit (due to gas while passing the last of his meconium). I'm trying not to hedge my bets on either of these facts lasting, it has only been a week after all. Ezekiel can grow bored of the big brother role, Malachi can still develop colic.

But still. I will be happy. By day 6 of Zeke's life we had already dealt with IV antibiotics for an infection, a bad latch (that resulted in sometimes an hour of trying before a successful feed and both of us in tears long before that), engorgement and oversupply, nightly gas cramps, and the first signs of his protein allergy (hello projectile vomit). I love Ezekiel. I love him 100 times more now that Mal is born if that's possible and I honestly worry that I will have the connection with my second born that I have developed with my first. But Zeke was a horrible horrible baby. Everything was hard.

With Mal everything has been so soo easy. Which isnt really saying that much, honestly. It's not hard to be a happy baby in this household. I can count on one hand the number of times he has been put down. I am bad about holding babies all day. Josh is even worse. I think Zeke was held for his first 3 months and Mal is looking like he will get the same. We haven't even attempted the bedside bassinet yet and I'm not sure when we will. The sleeping situations around here have always been fluid. The number of people in our bed ranging from 1 to 4 weekly, nightly, and even hourly. Im not even sure when Zeke joined us last night. After Mal's 5 am feeding and before his 7. I just woke up to find him curled next to me.

The view certainly is good.

More Pictures and an update

This was mere seconds after Mal was born. Josh's hands were shaking so bad that he didnt get a single clear shot. I cant think of many things that matter less. Its perfect.
We've also been asked what Zeke was doing during all this delivering of babies in bathtubs. He was in the livingroom, watching netflix on my netbook thru the whole thing. From time to time he would wander down the hall to check up on us and Josh would smile at him and say "Hey buddy, we're ok." and then back Z would wander to good old Blues Clues.
He was in fact so enthralled with the fact that it was apparently a holiday (why else would he be allowed a bottle and cartoons right off the bat?) that we had a hard time getting him to pay attention to his new brother at all. I think when called into the bathroom he said "baby", pointed at Mal, and then went right back to his show.

By the time I was finished and showered and on the couch however the draw of Blue had waned enough for Ezekiel to decide the very best way to greet a new baby brother into the world is by giving him "knuck knucks" aka knuckles. And you know what? It very will might be.

At the very least its a great story to illustrate forever that for better or worse I am now the mother of brothers.
And Zeke has embraced the roll of brother better than Josh or I ever imagined he would. He asks to hold "his baby" and loves to give Malachi his binkie (yes I have another consti-sucker and have already given in to the bink in order to relieve my poor breasts) or to bring him books that he then reads to him.


Of course Mal is still new, and Josh is still home to help, and so Zeke hasnt really had to compete for attention or priority yet. But we are taking the fact that he isnt already jealous as a very good sign. And while it will probably get harder, for now we are celebrating how easy it is today.

And it has been soo soo easy.
Mal has proven to be a very happy baby so far. He loves his sling, he loves his brother. He is a champion breast feeder and my milk has already arrived full throttle.

He has giant giant hands. It is the very first thing every single person has noticed.
And I have been healing beautifully. With no stitches needed, and very little cramping I almost feel back to my old self and its getting harder and harder to stay in bed while my house becomes a tornado around me under "daddy rule" which lets be honest is no rule at all ;) But here I sit, nursing and blogging, for at least a few more days.

A Birth Story

People who had done it before told me that after this experience, having a baby naturally and of my own strength, I would feel like a Goddess. I would find the wall named impossible and I would cross it, and I would never ever be the same.

I have to admit, without trying to minimize the miracle that took place in my bathtub this morning, I feel like nothing more or less holy than a woman. I only did, after all, what every woman is designed, specifically, wonderfully, to do. Don't get me wrong, it was a miracle indeed. It was beautiful, and it was transforming, and it was one of the most hallowed things I have ever done or seen...one of the most hallowed things you CAN ever do or see. But it was the kind of everyday miracle, like breathing, like being in love, that you can't really take any pride in. You can only be thankful.

And I am. So thankful. Not only for a healthy baby (the ultimate goal) but for the opportunity to experience this...to be able to birth my son.

Zeke's birth was a medical procedure, without trying to minimize the miracle that took place in that hospital room a year and a half ago, that is what it was...a medical procedure. Malachi's...without the beeping machines and the metal instruments and the plastic bags of IV fluids...Malachi's birth was an act of nature. It was earthly and it was otherwordly and it was the most natural thing you could ever imagine.

And only after having experienced this do I actually find peace with Zeke's birth. Only after being allowed to birth without fear of judgement, or intervention, or violence against myself or my baby, do I realize the strength I needed (and the strength I HAD) during Ezekiel's birth.

Things did not go according to plan, and I made decisions I would later regret. But at the same time, I've realized that I was a mother already as I birthed Mal. Somehow, until I held him in my arms, I had not realized that it was during Zeke's birth that I became that Godess. It was then that I found that wall of impossible and crossed it. THAT was the day I found my mother-strength.

Suddenly I find myself healed and I see Zeke's journey into this world for what it truly WAS, my passage into motherhood, my entry into that long, long, line of human Goddesses. Maybe I needed that battle as much as Zeke did.

As far as the knitty gritty details of this birth go...well...when you have a baby so fast there is not much to tell. I woke up at 4 am with a strong contraction and went back to sleep. It's happened so much over the last few months that I didn't think one thing or another about it. But at 5 am I had another and I decided to take some of the herbal tincture my midwife had given me to help turn all these braxton hicks into something real.

I doubt it was necessary because from 5 to 6 am the contractions were a good 7-4 minutes apart and I decided to call Cathy and tell her it was time to come over. She said she'd wash her face and be on her way. I jumped in the shower, decided after 15 or so minutes that the water wasn't helping as much as I had hoped and headed to the bedroom where Josh was still in bed to let him know I thought the baby might come fast and he should start filling the birthing tub. I made it to the hallway before my water broke and I suddenly thought I was dying. Maybe 10 more minutes and I was pushing.

At first I tried to fight it. My midwife was still not there! But when a baby wants to come, you cant stop it, so I moved back into the bathtub, filled it full of water and Josh delivered our sweet second born shortly after 7. Neither one of us had the presence of mind to look at the clock but luckily we did call Cathy to ask her for directions as to what we should do now and she says it was about 7:06.

She arrived probably 10 minutes too late and said "thanks for waiting for me!". But she delivered the placenta, checked on baby and I, and helped Josh take down our barely half up birthing tub. I told Josh I just need a little bit more practice and that next time I promise I will labor somewhere between 2 and 38 hours. ;)

He is here!

Malachi William arrived today at 7:06 am, after two hours of labor.
Nine lb. even, 23 inches, and he is beautiful.

My little artist

Zeke has been such a big boy lately. In more ways then one. First off, physically he is getting HUGE. I am so glad I put off buying him new jeans because suddenly it's looking like even the 2T's are going to be too short pretty soon. So I'm going to keep putting off buying more until this latest growth spurt is over and I absolutely must. That or until it gets warm enough to buy shorts, whichever happens first.

I blame the fact that the kid has been eating like a fiend. A normal breakfast these days is an entire serving of oatmeal (1/4 cup uncooked), an entire yogurt cup, and a banana. Then he takes a 2 hour break before he starts begging for more.

He's also been a big boy in other ways. So independent lately and getting to be so smart. Its bittersweet and makes me so glad to be having another. I know I would be taking it harder if I wasn't. That and if he wasn't still just so sweet. He's been asking to be rocked after his naps lately and I just love it. He is such a cuddler.

His newest thing is coloring. Coloring and playing "Yahpsee". Playing Yahtzee with a 1 year old? Not that fun, in case you wondered. I get 1 roll for ever 3 or 4 of his and somehow while every roll he does is a "Yeah Yahpsee!!!" every one of mine is an "uh oh". I think that means I'm losing? He wants to color or draw all day long, though. For Christmas he got some window crayons and those have been a big hit.
He DOES have to be watched carefully, though, or else he finds things more entertaining then the window to color on.
The window crayons are the activity that just keeps going, however, because there is nothing Ezekiel likes to do more when he is done making his art then clean it up. That spray bottle and a sponge equals an hour of mommy time at least.

As far as a pregnancy update goes...well I am still pregnant. I had hoped the new moon tonight would help but alas, no luck. I have also thought spicy food, a long walk, acupuncture, raspberry leaf tea, and a billion other things would help. Also no luck. My midwife forbids castor oil so I haven't done that one but I've tried about everything else.

I have resigned myself to patience. And to the hope that maybe the baby is just into astrology and doesn't want to be a Capricorn. If she waits until the 20th she gets to be an Aquarius...

Even though I am not quite yet 42 weeks I went ahead and took a picture this morning. And this is why: I have been asked a lot if my stomach has "dropped". Actually, I got asked this a lot during both of my pregnancies and I never knew what to answer. I carried both so low the entire time that I never really noticed any such thing happening. Well check out this extremely blurry photo (Sorry, as you can see, someone small was trying to be noticed and shaking me). I can most definitely say that I HAVE DROPPED. I am not actually sure what that means...but I am sure that it has happened over the last few days.

Hopefully it means I will have a baby soon. Because honestly, I dont know how much more this poor tummy can take. This dropping business put a whole new level into the stretchiness of my stretch marks and now a few of them have to be band-aided because they are bleeding. Poor poor tummy. Also this is the laziest baby in the universe. She only moves about once a day. Which means every day at about 7 o clock I start to stress out because she hasn't moved. Then she rolls over once and re-settles for another 24 hours. At 35 weeks this was kind of nice. At almost 42 its not as cute.

Embarassed

I've been feeling a bit embarrassed...ashamed, really...over my behavior recently as my due date approached, came, and then passed me by. I have been impatient. And cranky. And complaining pretty much non-stop. I'm sorry for everyone that has had to deal with me. I would like to make excuses right now, about being so very huge and uncomfortable, and about my nearly constant braxton-hicks contractions, and my fears that I'm going to have to induce yet again to get this baby out. But I think excuses are just counterproductive at this point. Because it is all of course worth it. I am thankful to be healthy enough to carry my babies to term and it is some comfort to tell myself that my extra-long cooking methods create extra-adorable babies :) It is only a matter of days or at most a week or two at this point, I am keeping faith that I WILL go into labor when the time is right. Plus as soon as it is all over I'm sure I will forget all about it and want to get pregnant again right away.

(Actually, although Josh and I have decided we definitely want a #3 and are deeply considering a #4 we are taking a "break" before that adventure. My body is tired and we think it would be best for my health, for my sanity, and for our children, if we let some time pass before adding to our brood. Some people can handle marathon pregnancies and some people can fulfill the needs of 3 or 4 preschoolers at once, but I doubt my abilities on both those scores. Plus, since we are only 23 and 24 we aren't exactly racing a clock. What "a break" entails we arent sure. Until I have weaned Blueberry and have had my body to myself for a full year? Until both these kids are potty-trained? Until Zeke is in school? We think we will just wait and see how we feel as time passes, but we are thinking a good 3-5 years before my next pregnancy would be ideal.)

Anyways, I have an acupuncture appointment tonight. I am nervous, having never done acupuncture before but I have heard good things about its ability to get babies moving, I happen to know a local acupuncturist, and it is a risk-free induction technique. And then Friday is a new moon, which may also help. I am keeping faith.

Job Description

Although I have never minded describing myself as a Stay at Home Mom (SAHM if you will), I will admit that it lacks a certain...consequence? It doesn't really sound like much, I guess is what I'm getting at. I am a mom, and I stay at home. Sounds a bit like laziness, really.

I personally prefer the term Homemaker, if I am thinking about it. My work is making a home. That sounds a little better.

I've heard people say they are Domestic Engineers. That always makes me giggle. It's cute.

But the other day I heard one that is really good. Really really good. From now on I am no longer a simple Stay At Home Mom. I am now officially my family's Director of Development.

The New Rules

Yep, I have entered that time. That time that no woman should ever have to enter.

Over-due.

Luckily I planned well and as per tradition (if two times a tradition makes) spent my due date getting a pedicure and then eating dinner out with my best friends. Not as fun as having a baby, but at least when I DO have the baby my toes will look delicious.

But the point of this post was that now that I receive the mandatory 5 or 6 phone calls or emails a day asking if I am still pregnant, I have a couple rules to establish. Rules for me in particular but honestly...these are rules for pretty much any nearly or over due woman. I say all this at the risk of being rude but I don't really mind at this point, because I may save myself (and countless other poor woman) the tragedy of the following comments, which are NOT EVER allowed:

(Yes, I have received ALL of these comments in the last week)

"Are you still pregnant?" Unless you are in a relationship to said pregnant woman that really might leave you uninformed when the baby is born (I swear, mom, I'll let you know) and you really have a reason to have to know (curiosity doesnt count) you are not allowed to ask this question.

"Why don't you just induce?/strip your membranes?/break your water/other form of induction?" or in a related field "When will you ect?" or "You should just ect." I am well informed. I know these option are available. I don't need to be reminded of them 40 times a day.

"I went over my due date and I was not nearly as pathetically wimpy and complainy as you. You should be like me." or related "I loved being pregnant, I never wanted it to end" You are either a liar or a robot. Either way I am no longer interested in your conversation.

"You look ready to burst!" or any other comment on my size. Also pointing out the fact that I am waddling (yes, I have noticed, thank you) and/or cant bend over (I am also aware of this).

"This will be just like Zeke and you wont ever go into labor." That comment is particular to me but really any horror story that comes up into your pretty little head can be left to yourself. I have been told (so far) that I will never go into labor, that my body is broken and obviously unable to go into labor, that my placenta is surely no longer in working order I have been pregnant sooo long, and that if I wait too long the baby will be too big to be born vaginally. All before my actual due date. And along with each of these lovely nuggets of obvious wisdom have come stories of other women or "medical facts" that prove this to be true. Scaring sleep deprived women helps no one.

Maybe this is the same as the above but it bears repeating: Any and all comments that my personal medical decisions are dangerous/ill advised/stupid/martyr-ish. I pay someone for this kind of advice. You are not that person.

You may be left wondering "Well then what am I allowed to say?" Although I hope what you are actually wondering is "Who would ever say such things?" I know the answer to be: everyone I currently know. So, yes, I will be sooo kind as to give you a few helpful hints.

You may:

Compliment my person, my family, my home.

Give me pure, unadulterated pity.

Comment on the horrible weather. (ALL weather is horrible at 40 weeks)

Offer me icecream.

On a lighter and brighter note: I actually don't feel all THAT bad. I wish this crazy off and on again fever would stop. We cant figure out what's causing it in the first place, despite numerous cultures and tests and lists and lists of questions from my midwife about any and all symptoms. At first we though flu. Then infection. Then maybe pre-eclamspia. But it is proving to be none of those. I will blame hormones. If the fever comes back again we have decided to just take some antibiotics for (apparently) the hell of it since that is all my midwife's back-up could recommend when we ended up calling her.

****I am updating this post to tell everyone that the only thing the latest culture found was E Coli. E Coli!! For some reason I think that is the funniest thing that has ever ever happened to me. Since feeling crampy and having loose stools is par for the course when you are preggo, I never considered an intestinal infection. Anyways, now we know.****

I also wish these freaking stupid contractions would stop. Either that or get stronger and produce a baby. I blame all of my impatience and crankiness on the fact that I've had sooooo maaaany braxton hicks contractions this pregnancy. I am sick of the word contraction. I hate both braxton and hick. If those are people. Which I assume but do no actually know.

But I'm surviving. And my fingers and toes look great.

And Zeke has taken to wearing this scarf absolutely everywhere we go. Which entertains me to no end. It was a Christmas gift (to me) that he took to right away. At first we thought it would end with that day (Christmas) but he has worn it almost every day since then as well.
He thinks he looks pretty snazzy.

He has also been cooking up a storm. Yes, those are real apple slices he is preparing for the oven. And yes, that is my frying pan on his stove, despite the fact that the frying pan the playset comes with is much more appropriately sized.
We might want to invest in a football or something...

Just relieving you

Just in case anyone was worrying about my mental health as I entered an ENTIRE NOTHER DECADE pregnant, I am doing surprisingly well.

I think it was around 11 am on New Years Eve that I starting having light cramping and contractions. I think my description to Josh was "The pittliest, most pathetic contractions you can imagine" and my immediate response to my uterus was "You are joking me right? THIS is all you've got?" (yes, I talk to my organs)

I did what I could do get them going stronger (lunges on the stairs, bouncing on my birthing ball, ect) and then gave up to take a nap. They continued right on so when Josh got home from work (Early! Yipee!!) we decided to go to the mall for some serious walking. (Basically we set Z free and follow him, its a work out) They continued right on thru walking, thru spicy labor chili I made for dinner, thru my wonderful New Years Eve bath.

An aside: The recipe for a wonderful New Years Eve bath includes but is not necessarily limited to: Sparkling Apple Cider (the closest thing to alcohol I'm currently allowed and a childhood New Years tradition besides), aromatherapy oil in the water, my favorite Jane Austen novel (Persuasion, in case you needed to know), Iron and Wine playing in the background, and NO BABIES ALLOWED (I love to bath with Zeke but it isnt exactly the same, ya know?) Josh recommended candles and had to be reminded that I have a freaky candle thing. I seriously CANNOT relax if there is a candle anywhere near me. I am convinced the house will light on fire and put the candle out if I so much as have to leave the room to use the bathroom and jump about a mile if it flickers (imagining it suddenly exploding or something), not to mention if a cat goes anywhere near it. I never lock my car or my front door, my passwords and pin numbers are all insanely easy to guess, I walk around in the dark downtown whenever I feel the need and constantly talk to homeless men but man oh man do I worry about candles. And Zombies.

Anyways, the contractions lasted until midnight. They lasted all thru the night as I tried to sleep. They lasted almost all thru New Years day. They never got stronger. They never stopped until probably 5 pm. So weak and pittly (lovin' that word) that I could ignore them at will but never stopping all the same.

You would think I would be really irritated at this point. Especially as they stopped. But I think I was right yesterday, entering the new year was strangely calming. Now that I've passed that deadline that I set for myself I am suddenly free. The baby WILL be born in January 2010, there is no other option. So suddenly it doesnt matter if its the 1st or the 20th. It is all the same in a way. Babies evidently dont care about taxes.

PS Just had another weak-ass contraction. So I guess they didnt stop so much as had a 3 hour break? Who knows what's going on...

Uhg

I will admit that I am seriously seriously depressed over here.

My burst of energy lasted about 36 hours and then became not labor but...wait for it...wait for it...the flu. I had fever/chills and body aches for a good 36 or so hours. NOT fun when you are 39 weeks pregnant...just in case you were wondering.

I also have not had this baby yet. And everyone was sooo sure it would be this week...this year. Soooo sure. My midwife didn't want to bother making a prenatal appt for next week she was sooo sure. Josh has been talking about his New Year's Eve baby for months now. Well it's New FREAKING Years Eve Josh!! Where is your baby!?!?

I think when he comes home from work I will punch him in the face.

After today, in a strange strange way, I think it will actually get better. Because after today I have to admit that I am running late (again) and it could be another few weeks (again). Its a miserable thought but I think once I've crossed that line and admitted/accepted it, then it will be easier to swallow each day as it comes baby-less.

I had a really good feeling

I had a really good feeling about today. A really good feeling.

Like "Today is THE day".

I had a good night's sleep. I was full of energy (for the first time in a looong time). I showered and did some yoga, ate a big breakfast and drank my pregnancy tea. I went over to a friend's new apartment to visit and let our kids play. I came home and still had so much energy that even though I have been really committing myself to taking naps with Zeke everyday (so as to not be too exhausted should I go into labor) I just couldn't get to sleep. So instead you could find me on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor with a sponge. That felt so good I moved on to the baseboards of the entire main floor. Then I did the bathroom, and the dishes, and a couple loads of laundry.

I also cleaned up 4...that's right FOUR...different areas where my cat threw up. Apparently she is sick? She also peed on Josh and I's bed (hence the laundry). But even THAT couldn't get me down today.

Now it's 4 o clock. Zeke has been up from his nap for an hour and the house is completely and utterly spotless. As in there is not a single thing left to clean anywhere. I might move on to organizing a few cupboards. Because I am STILL full of energy.

And the funniest part? I'm also STILL not in labor. Which pretty much crosses off my good feeling about today. I only have 8 hours left after all. Yet I haven't fallen into my characteristic 4 o clock ice-cream eating depression. I keep waiting for it to start. I should be really really mad that I'm not in labor. I was so SURE after all. And then I went to all this work and got nothing out of it. Except a clean house, of course.

Maybe I have finally found my zen? I told Josh yesterday I feel like no matter how hard I try I cant find seem to find an emotional balance. I am either elated or I am depressed. Either the baby is coming right away or else I will be pregnant forever. Have I found stasis?

Or is this just the elation before the biggest storm?