I have always loved hearing other women's labor stories so I thought I'd share mine. Yes I have been a little absent from the blog for about a month and that is all due to my little one making her way into this world. The story is one reason why I don't like induction, ok I have quite a few reasons why I don't like induction but one of them is I want to have a story. Something other than, "I went to the hospital at such and such time, they hooked me up to an IV and baby was born so many hours later". No, I want something a little different, a little more interesting to tell my kids when they get older.
Years from now this is the story my daughter will hear:
The night I went into labor I had been at my Mom's. I still had a few days until my due date and had been to the doctor the day before, she was going to strip my membranes in the hope that I would go into labor sooner but once she checked me she said she couldn't because she was afraid she'd end up breaking my water instead. I was 4 1/2 cm dilated and 75 % effaced, this is pretty typical of the end of my pregnancies. With Grant I was 4cm dilated for a week before he was born so I was pretty sure I still had quite a few days left before this one would arrive. I thought that day would probably be the last time Grant would be able to play at Grammy's before the baby came since the rest of the week would be busy with other errands.
There were no real signs the baby would be coming except I thought I'd lost my mucus plug earlier that morning, still I was in denial.We got home a little after 9pm, and Grant and I went to bed a little before 11. I'd been having Braxton Hicks contractions that were progressively worse for a few days but nothing consistent and not really painful just uncomfortable. I had them so often I ignored them most of the time. I was almost asleep and thought I was having a couple Braxton's when I realized I had been tensing up with the last 2 and actually had to tell myself to relax. Braxton's never made me tense up before so I timed a couple of them, 11 minutes apart. It was 11:33pm.
I went downstairs and continued to time them, I had a couple 11 minutes apart then a couple 6 minutes apart. I called my Mom and told her I thought I was in labor but wasn't having really consistent contractions and just to stay tuned, it was 12:24am. I considered them not consistent because I was only having a couple the same amount of time apart then the time between them would decrease by quite a few minutes. This was a stupid assumption of mine. I called my husband at 12:26am and told him I was in labor, he asked if I'd called my mom to come over and take me to the hospital and why I hadn't called him earlier. I told him I'd only been having contractions for an hour and I probably had hours and hours of labor left. He reminded me I was already 4 1/2 cm dilated and I reminded him I was 4 cm with Grant and had 9hours of labor with him.
I called my mom shortly after that because the contractions were getting pretty painful and told her she should probably make her way over, the contractions were 4-5minutes apart, it was 12:47am. I still didn't have my bag completely packed, because I figured I had a few days to go so I was walking through the apartment packing the last few items I thought I'd need.
Once my mom and step dad arrived my contractions were about 1-2 minutes apart. I was still under the impression I had plenty of time. My mom was rushing, grabbing bags and getting to the car and I remember thinking, we seriously have hours to go there's no need to rush. I had a contraction right before we walked out the door and made it to the end of the side walk and had another. This should have been my clue, I did not have hours of labor ahead of me. You would think I'd be a little smarter since I've been through this before. It was 1:17am.
We got to the hospital, got checked in, weighed, and vitals taken. As the nurse was wheeling me to a room she told another nurse she was pretty sure I was in labor so she was taking me to a large room. All I could think was, duh I'm in labor why else do you think I'd be here at 1 in the morning. I'm not one to make multiple trips to the hospital in false labor. When I go in it's the real deal.
I changed into a gown, and another nurse came in to check me. She said, "yep you're at 8-9cm". My response was "holy crap!". I thought I was probably at 6cm but never did I dream I was nearly ready to deliver. Immediately a slew of nurses were coming in and out of my room with the baby warmer, trays of instruments, stacks of papers to go over and sign, etc. My husband finally arrived, my doctor broke my water, contractions came one on top of the other without much rest in between. They hurt, like no other. I didn't have an epidural with my son so I knew what to expect as far as pain went but it's almost like your mind is in denial until you're actually in labor. I remember thinking why the heck do I not get epidurals, it must be so nice not to feel any of this.
My doctor asked if I felt like I could push, I said I probably could but didn't have as strong urge. She said she'd wait for me to tell her when I was ready, then she walked out of the room. It was probably 30 seconds to a minute later, even though it seemed much longer than that when I had a contraction with the strongest urge to push I'd ever felt. I told the nurse, "I need to push", she said "sorry honey you have to breathe through this one the doctor isn't in here". If any of you have not had an epidural and had that contraction with the urge to push, you know your body takes over and you can't not push. I tried to breathe but my body kept pushing anyway. It was horrible. My husband kept saying "breathe", I kept saying "I can't" and would push again. All I could think was, this baby's coming out whether there's a doctor in this room or not. That was the longest contraction of my life.
My doctor came in during that contraction but I was still told to breathe through it as they finished doing whatever they felt they needed to do, I was busy so I don't have a clue what she was doing. That contraction finally ended and my doctor said, "wow that one lasted like 2 minutes", that was the longest 2 minutes of my life. I didn't even know contractions could last that long. I was exhausted. My doctor was doing what's called a perineal message, which is done to stretch the perineum and help prevent tearing. I'm sure this was a good thing for her to do but to me it felt like she was pushing the baby back in, there was so much pressure I couldn't relax enough to get a good push. My doctor kept telling my to relax my bottom and I kept saying "I can't". Finally she looked at me and said "if you relax this baby will be out with your next contraction". That's all I needed to hear. The only thing going through my mind was "I want this baby out of me!". So I took a few breaths and relaxed the best I could. The next contraction came and I pushed 2 counts of 10 like it was the last thing I was going to do in my life and my baby was here.
The doctor: "It's a girl!"
I was convinced I was going to have a boy so my husband said, "you were wrong, you got your girl".
I was still a little in denial, even looking at her, I couldn't believe I had my girl. I would have been perfectly happy with a little boy but since my husband said from the beginning this was probably our last baby I thought it would be nice to have one of each. Of course as soon as she was here I looked at my husband and said, "yea we are done, I'm not doing this again. Holy crap that hurt!" haha he laughed.
I was so relieved she was here, the pain was over, and so happy I had a beautiful healthy baby girl, I started tearing up. I remember Grant's labor and delivery but I didn't remember it being that painful during the delivery part, and he was 10oz bigger than her. I said it after Grant and I say the same now, even with all the pain I would have another one without an epidural. I know most women prefer the more pain free route, and I honestly can't blame them, having a baby hurts more than anything you will feel in your life. That being said, I didn't have to worry about headaches and neck pain from the epidural like my cousin did after having her baby, I could get up and move immediately after both my babies were born, and other than typical pain and exhaustion from giving birth I felt great. It's not the right decision for every woman but for me it's the only way to go.
Eva was born at 2:35am, less than an hour after we arrived at the hospital, and was 8lbs 15oz and 20.5 inches long. I had no concept of time once we got to the hospital and I thought it was so much later than it actually was. When I asked what time she was born and I realized it was less than an hour after we arrived I was shocked. I thought we had been there so much longer.
I had said from the beginning of my pregnancy I was hoping for a quick labor and delivery. Never dreaming of one as short as 3 hours. I was thinking 5-6 hours would be great, 3 hours wasn't even a thought in my mind. I told my husband if we were crazy enough to have another baby I would be terrified of not even making it to the hospital. I'd have to go in with the first contraction I felt.
Now a month later Eva is waking up every 3-4 hours at night and after a few days of her not getting to sleep until 6 and 7 am she's finally starting to get on a bedtime schedule. I look at her sweet face and think "yea I'd have another one." My husband still says we are done, I say we will see.
Showing posts with label Mama Ramblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mama Ramblings. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
The Baby Waiting Game
As most pregnant women know, once you get close to the end your just waiting. Waiting for that 1st contraction to tell you "it's time". To know you're are finally going to meet your little one.
I feel like I've been waiting forever.
The end seems so close yet so far away, and there are days I'm convinced I will remain pregnant forever.
Grant was a day late and I remember sitting on my couch the evening of my due date, looking at my husband and saying "I was supposed to have my baby today", "this was my guaranteed day I would be holding my little boy and I'm not". Little did I know he didn't want to be told by anyone when he should make his debut and he would come the next morning.
With Grant I woke up at 1:54am with contractions, so every night when I go to sleep I think, maybe tonight will be the night and I'll wake up with contractions and we can get this show on the road. Every night I wake up numerous times in pain but not due to contractions just due to the large belly in front of me.
Every Braxton Hicks contraction I get I silently hope it gets more painful and is a real contraction. Every time it fades away I tell my body it has practiced contractions enough (I've been having Braxton Hicks since about 34 weeks) and it's time to start getting the real ones going.
I guess this little one is quite comfortable in there, even though I'm really uncomfortable out here.
A friend of mine said to me the other day, "isn't it amazing, pregnancy makes us so uncomfortable we end up begging for the hardest and most painful work of our lives". I had never thought of it this way but it's so true. We get so exhausted, deal with so many aches and pains, that by the end of our 9 months we are begging for this tiny being to come out. Begging for those contractions to start, for the hours upon hours of labor and delivery.
Oh the things we women go through for our children.
I feel like I've been waiting forever.
The end seems so close yet so far away, and there are days I'm convinced I will remain pregnant forever.
Grant was a day late and I remember sitting on my couch the evening of my due date, looking at my husband and saying "I was supposed to have my baby today", "this was my guaranteed day I would be holding my little boy and I'm not". Little did I know he didn't want to be told by anyone when he should make his debut and he would come the next morning.
With Grant I woke up at 1:54am with contractions, so every night when I go to sleep I think, maybe tonight will be the night and I'll wake up with contractions and we can get this show on the road. Every night I wake up numerous times in pain but not due to contractions just due to the large belly in front of me.
Every Braxton Hicks contraction I get I silently hope it gets more painful and is a real contraction. Every time it fades away I tell my body it has practiced contractions enough (I've been having Braxton Hicks since about 34 weeks) and it's time to start getting the real ones going.
I guess this little one is quite comfortable in there, even though I'm really uncomfortable out here.
A friend of mine said to me the other day, "isn't it amazing, pregnancy makes us so uncomfortable we end up begging for the hardest and most painful work of our lives". I had never thought of it this way but it's so true. We get so exhausted, deal with so many aches and pains, that by the end of our 9 months we are begging for this tiny being to come out. Begging for those contractions to start, for the hours upon hours of labor and delivery.
Oh the things we women go through for our children.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
I'm going crazy
I'm going crazy, stir crazy.
Is this baby a boy or a girl?
Will Grant have a little brother or sister?
Next year will I be searching google for football birthday party ideas or princess birthday ideas?
When will I go into labor?
Will I go early, before my due date, or late?
Will my labor start in the middle of the night like with Grant or in the middle of the day?
Who is this person inside me?
When are you coming out?
Is this baby a boy or a girl?
Will Grant have a little brother or sister?
Next year will I be searching google for football birthday party ideas or princess birthday ideas?
When will I go into labor?
Will I go early, before my due date, or late?
Will my labor start in the middle of the night like with Grant or in the middle of the day?
Who is this person inside me?
When are you coming out?
Sunday, March 2, 2014
March Baby
All my adult life I have said I would never have a baby in Ohio during the month of March. Why you ask?
Because it's a horrible month in terms of weather. I think every huge ice/snow storm we have ever had has been during March. Years ago, during my husband's (who was just my new boyfriend at the time) second visit to see my family it took us 12 hours to get to my grandparents house. The trip would normally take 6- 6 1/2hours to drive. It was the worst trip ever! We had rain all through Tennessee, then the rain turned to sleet in Kentucky, and of course the sleet turned to snow in Ohio. We ended up finally making it to my grandparents house and there was a level 3 snow emergency in effect (which means you can be ticketed if you are found on the roads and you are not an emergency vehicle) for 3 days.
This is why I have sworn for years there would be no baby born from me during this month.
And what do I do but go get myself knocked up with a March due date.
We have had snow that seems like it will never end. I swear I have questioned whether I would ever actually see the grass again. Finally we had a "heat wave" of 48 degrees that melted the huge snow pile ups and it was glorious seeing the grass, even with a temperature of 18 degrees I loved seeing the grass. Then what happens? A storm comes, calling for 12 inches of snow, sleet, and ice. I was convinced with my luck I would go into labor early on that night, not be able to make it across town to the hospital due to the inevitable horrible conditions the roads would be in and I would end up having this baby at home.
I'm not dramatic at all am I?
Well there was no early baby born here in my living room and I've yet to see the 12 inches of snow they said we would have but March has just begun. I'm longing for the beautiful rainbow of spring wildflowers and the smell of fresh cut grass.
I'm very much over seeing snow.
I no longer like the color white.
I really want to be able to walk outside without having to take 20 minutes to bundle myself and my 3 year old up against the bitterly cold, take your breath away when it hits you in the face, wind. I'm crossing my fingers that I will be really lucky and one of the few "warmer" days (by warmer I'm talking like in the 30's) is when I will go into labor. A day or night with no snow fall, no ice, no sleet.
Is that too much to ask from this month of March?
Because it's a horrible month in terms of weather. I think every huge ice/snow storm we have ever had has been during March. Years ago, during my husband's (who was just my new boyfriend at the time) second visit to see my family it took us 12 hours to get to my grandparents house. The trip would normally take 6- 6 1/2hours to drive. It was the worst trip ever! We had rain all through Tennessee, then the rain turned to sleet in Kentucky, and of course the sleet turned to snow in Ohio. We ended up finally making it to my grandparents house and there was a level 3 snow emergency in effect (which means you can be ticketed if you are found on the roads and you are not an emergency vehicle) for 3 days.
This is why I have sworn for years there would be no baby born from me during this month.
And what do I do but go get myself knocked up with a March due date.
We have had snow that seems like it will never end. I swear I have questioned whether I would ever actually see the grass again. Finally we had a "heat wave" of 48 degrees that melted the huge snow pile ups and it was glorious seeing the grass, even with a temperature of 18 degrees I loved seeing the grass. Then what happens? A storm comes, calling for 12 inches of snow, sleet, and ice. I was convinced with my luck I would go into labor early on that night, not be able to make it across town to the hospital due to the inevitable horrible conditions the roads would be in and I would end up having this baby at home.
I'm not dramatic at all am I?
Well there was no early baby born here in my living room and I've yet to see the 12 inches of snow they said we would have but March has just begun. I'm longing for the beautiful rainbow of spring wildflowers and the smell of fresh cut grass.
I'm very much over seeing snow.
I no longer like the color white.
I really want to be able to walk outside without having to take 20 minutes to bundle myself and my 3 year old up against the bitterly cold, take your breath away when it hits you in the face, wind. I'm crossing my fingers that I will be really lucky and one of the few "warmer" days (by warmer I'm talking like in the 30's) is when I will go into labor. A day or night with no snow fall, no ice, no sleet.
Is that too much to ask from this month of March?
Friday, February 28, 2014
You know your at the end of your pregnancy when.....
You know you're at the end of your pregnancy when......
You have to get a little momentum going in order to get off the couch.
You have to scoot your ever growing behind to the end of the couch and use your arms to push off the back of the couch in order to get off the same couch. So much work just to get up.
You wake up all hours of the night for no apparent reason and can't for the life of you get back to sleep.
You need no less than 6 pillows surrounding you and holding up your belly while you sleep.
Sleeping on your back makes you feel like you can no longer breathe and you sleep on your sides so much they actually get sore throughout the night.
You have acid reflux....horrible, never ending, doesn't matter what you eat, acid reflux.
Every time you get up you make a small groaning noise because your body literally hurts from the weight of your belly.
Your thighs ache all day because this baby is sitting right between them getting ready for it's debut.
Every weird ache you get you are saying a silent prayer it is the beginning of labor.
You pull a muscle, or multiple muscles, in your belly because you rolled over at night and had no support under your belly.
You wonder if your stomach stretches another inch if it's possible for it to actually burst.
The act of getting dressed makes you out of breath.
Bending over is a chore and requires some strategy.
Even your large maternity clothes are slowly starting to no longer fit.
Going to the store makes you exhausted and in serious need of a nap.
The sheer act of standing up makes you feel like you will pee your pants before you make it to the bathroom.
You use the restroom only to stand up, fix your pants and shirt, and have the overwhelming sensation you have to pee again.
Your belly is constantly hitting the counter and "in the way" while you're cooking.
You accidentally almost knock your 3 year old over with your belly because you have no real concept of how far it actually sticks out.
Your toddler constantly looks at your belly and says, "mama your belly's big!"
Your sister says "Lisa you're looking pretty humongous today", and doesn't think you should be offended by it.
You welcome the horrendous pain of childbirth so you can not only finally see your little one but so you also no longer have to be pregnant. You are that uncomfortable
You have to get a little momentum going in order to get off the couch.
You have to scoot your ever growing behind to the end of the couch and use your arms to push off the back of the couch in order to get off the same couch. So much work just to get up.
You wake up all hours of the night for no apparent reason and can't for the life of you get back to sleep.
You need no less than 6 pillows surrounding you and holding up your belly while you sleep.
Sleeping on your back makes you feel like you can no longer breathe and you sleep on your sides so much they actually get sore throughout the night.
You have acid reflux....horrible, never ending, doesn't matter what you eat, acid reflux.
Every time you get up you make a small groaning noise because your body literally hurts from the weight of your belly.
Your thighs ache all day because this baby is sitting right between them getting ready for it's debut.
Every weird ache you get you are saying a silent prayer it is the beginning of labor.
You pull a muscle, or multiple muscles, in your belly because you rolled over at night and had no support under your belly.
You wonder if your stomach stretches another inch if it's possible for it to actually burst.
The act of getting dressed makes you out of breath.
Bending over is a chore and requires some strategy.
Even your large maternity clothes are slowly starting to no longer fit.
Going to the store makes you exhausted and in serious need of a nap.
The sheer act of standing up makes you feel like you will pee your pants before you make it to the bathroom.
You use the restroom only to stand up, fix your pants and shirt, and have the overwhelming sensation you have to pee again.
Your belly is constantly hitting the counter and "in the way" while you're cooking.
You accidentally almost knock your 3 year old over with your belly because you have no real concept of how far it actually sticks out.
Your toddler constantly looks at your belly and says, "mama your belly's big!"
Your sister says "Lisa you're looking pretty humongous today", and doesn't think you should be offended by it.
You welcome the horrendous pain of childbirth so you can not only finally see your little one but so you also no longer have to be pregnant. You are that uncomfortable
Thursday, February 27, 2014
Bad Mom vs. Good Mom
Throughout this pregnancy there have been many times I've felt like being pregnant has made me a bad mom. What I mean by that is, when the exhaustion takes over simply from growing another human being my patience is zilch and therefore I would get short with Grant. I hate that and I always regret it later.
Or when the morning sickness was at it's worst and he was having a needy day I would get irritable a lot faster. Once again, I always kicked myself later and tried to love on him more, always apologizing for my shortcomings. Of course his response was always, "it's okay mama, don't be sad". Which is enough to make your heart melt a million times over. Kids are so forgiving.
Last night I felt like a good mom, and it was all because my belly is too big. I started letting Grant unload the dryer for me so I wouldn't have to either get down on my knees and dig them out or bend over to dig them out. He has loved helping with this and you can see how proud he is of himself. Usually after he unloads it into a basket I set it aside until naptime or after he goes to sleep. That's when I fold everything and put it away. It's a habit from when he was little and would constantly unfold everything or knock my stacks of laundry over. A few months back I taught him how to fold wash cloths, he was so excited, but because I am a creature of habit I still would save the laundry for when I was by myself and could get it done quickly.
Isn't that what most stay at home mom's do? You get so caught up in the day to day chores and finding ways to get them done as quickly and efficiently as possible you forget you have a little one who is craving to learn new things. So last night I decided to go ahead and start folding the towels and let him help me. He takes his time and sure I could get it done twice as fast but did I really have anything else I needed to rush to get done? No.
So I let him take his time, and it was so thrilling to see the pride on his face as he folded each one and made his 2 piles, one of wash cloths and one of rags. He was a little perfectionist, which I've never seen in him before.
It hit me while I was watching him that this could be one of the last times he is my only little one in the house, that he is my sole focus during the evenings and I should be taking advantage of every moment to teach him things and give him extra attention before my focus has to shift between him and his new sibling.
Kids are amazing, and watching them learn new things and gain confidence in their abilities is something I don't think we think about much. There are so many times when life gets in the way and I'm trying to rush through things not letting him help me because I just want to get the task done and move on to the next one. Watching him made me realize I truly need to stop rushing and start paying more attention. Is the world going to end if the dishwasher doesn't get unloaded first thing in the morning? No
Is the fate of mankind going to be affected if vacuuming takes me an extra 20 minutes? No.
Does it really matter if my usual tasks take longer by letting my little guy help? No.
Those tasks will be there later and there is always tomorrow, and if by chance someone stops by and my floor is covered in crumbs or the sink is full of dirty dishes, or the table hasn't been wiped down yet, do I really care what they think? No.
Seeing the pride Grant has in doing things himself, and hearing him say "thanks, mommy for letting me help", makes all the extra time tasks may take completely and totally worth it.
Or when the morning sickness was at it's worst and he was having a needy day I would get irritable a lot faster. Once again, I always kicked myself later and tried to love on him more, always apologizing for my shortcomings. Of course his response was always, "it's okay mama, don't be sad". Which is enough to make your heart melt a million times over. Kids are so forgiving.
Last night I felt like a good mom, and it was all because my belly is too big. I started letting Grant unload the dryer for me so I wouldn't have to either get down on my knees and dig them out or bend over to dig them out. He has loved helping with this and you can see how proud he is of himself. Usually after he unloads it into a basket I set it aside until naptime or after he goes to sleep. That's when I fold everything and put it away. It's a habit from when he was little and would constantly unfold everything or knock my stacks of laundry over. A few months back I taught him how to fold wash cloths, he was so excited, but because I am a creature of habit I still would save the laundry for when I was by myself and could get it done quickly.
Isn't that what most stay at home mom's do? You get so caught up in the day to day chores and finding ways to get them done as quickly and efficiently as possible you forget you have a little one who is craving to learn new things. So last night I decided to go ahead and start folding the towels and let him help me. He takes his time and sure I could get it done twice as fast but did I really have anything else I needed to rush to get done? No.
So I let him take his time, and it was so thrilling to see the pride on his face as he folded each one and made his 2 piles, one of wash cloths and one of rags. He was a little perfectionist, which I've never seen in him before.
It hit me while I was watching him that this could be one of the last times he is my only little one in the house, that he is my sole focus during the evenings and I should be taking advantage of every moment to teach him things and give him extra attention before my focus has to shift between him and his new sibling.
Kids are amazing, and watching them learn new things and gain confidence in their abilities is something I don't think we think about much. There are so many times when life gets in the way and I'm trying to rush through things not letting him help me because I just want to get the task done and move on to the next one. Watching him made me realize I truly need to stop rushing and start paying more attention. Is the world going to end if the dishwasher doesn't get unloaded first thing in the morning? No
Is the fate of mankind going to be affected if vacuuming takes me an extra 20 minutes? No.
Does it really matter if my usual tasks take longer by letting my little guy help? No.
Those tasks will be there later and there is always tomorrow, and if by chance someone stops by and my floor is covered in crumbs or the sink is full of dirty dishes, or the table hasn't been wiped down yet, do I really care what they think? No.
Seeing the pride Grant has in doing things himself, and hearing him say "thanks, mommy for letting me help", makes all the extra time tasks may take completely and totally worth it.
Tuesday, February 25, 2014
Nesting...
Nesting...
I've been told by various people one of the signs you will be going into labor soon is you start nesting. You get the sudden urge to clean the house from top to bottom, organize everything, etc, etc.
Does this actually happen to people?
I have to say it would be nice if it did because my apartment could really use a once over. As I sit and type this at 4:30 in the afternoon in my pj's and fuzzy robe, I have 2 sinks full of dirty dishes, a table covered in sewing projects, toys scattered across the living room floor, a load of clothes waiting to be folded in a laundry basket, another load of clothes in the dryer and 1 in the washer, and a kitchen bar with various bits of everything covering it.
Do I have any desire to clean any of this?
Heck no!
What do I do instead? Sit in my pj's and bathrobe, eat some strawberry cheesecake my husband begged me to make, and surf the internet with Chuck the Truck cartoon playing in the background for Grant.
I feel exhausted and a little lazy but does that motivate me?
Heck no!
I actually haven't had one moment of overwhelming desire to clean or organize. this makes me feel like this baby is never going to come out.
I have a to-do list half a mile long with things I need to do before the baby arrives. What do those things include? I know you're just dying to know.
1. have husband put tv stand together and empty armoire drawers of DVDs so I'll have a place for baby stuff downstairs
2. combine Grant's clothes into 3 drawers instead of the current 6 they occupy so this baby will have somewhere for it's clothes to go.
3. finish packing hospital bag
4. make postpartum padsicles
5. mop kitchen floor
6. vacuum...everywhere
7. stitch the newly found hole in Grant's brand new comforter we bought him for Christmas
8. get baby stuff out of storage. Yes it's true we have nothing in this apartment for our new little one. except some diapers and wipes. No worries though right? I've got plenty of time.
9. finish boy fleece baby hat
10. finish the 4 or 5 posts in my drafts that have been sitting half finished for over a week
11. finalize a grocery list for this weekend
12. change the sheets on Grant's bed
13. clean bathroom counter
14. make a batch of waffles for the freezer
15. make a batch of pancake mix for the pantry
16. make a double batch of syrup to have on hand for easy breakfasts
17. DIY some nursing cami's
That's the majority of my list. Ok so it's not half a mile long but long enough that I should get my growing butt in gear and get some stuff marked off of it.
But actually reading this list makes me more tired and wanting another nap. Yep I said another one, because I took a short nap with Grant today telling myself I don't have much time left to relax and nap and that I should be taking advantage of these final days, and I mistakenly thought it would give me some energy.
Did I feel refreshed and ready to tackle anything on my list after this nap?
Heck no!
What did I do after this nap?
Changed into my pj's, came downstairs, wrapped up in a fleece blanket and laid down on the couch to watch tv.
Do you know what I want to do now?
Cover up with my fleece blanket, lay down on the couch, and watch a show other than a cartoon.
Is that gonna happen with my 3 year old full of energy after his nap?
Heck no!
I've been told by various people one of the signs you will be going into labor soon is you start nesting. You get the sudden urge to clean the house from top to bottom, organize everything, etc, etc.
Does this actually happen to people?
I have to say it would be nice if it did because my apartment could really use a once over. As I sit and type this at 4:30 in the afternoon in my pj's and fuzzy robe, I have 2 sinks full of dirty dishes, a table covered in sewing projects, toys scattered across the living room floor, a load of clothes waiting to be folded in a laundry basket, another load of clothes in the dryer and 1 in the washer, and a kitchen bar with various bits of everything covering it.
Do I have any desire to clean any of this?
Heck no!
What do I do instead? Sit in my pj's and bathrobe, eat some strawberry cheesecake my husband begged me to make, and surf the internet with Chuck the Truck cartoon playing in the background for Grant.
I feel exhausted and a little lazy but does that motivate me?
Heck no!
I actually haven't had one moment of overwhelming desire to clean or organize. this makes me feel like this baby is never going to come out.
I have a to-do list half a mile long with things I need to do before the baby arrives. What do those things include? I know you're just dying to know.
1. have husband put tv stand together and empty armoire drawers of DVDs so I'll have a place for baby stuff downstairs
2. combine Grant's clothes into 3 drawers instead of the current 6 they occupy so this baby will have somewhere for it's clothes to go.
3. finish packing hospital bag
4. make postpartum padsicles
5. mop kitchen floor
6. vacuum...everywhere
7. stitch the newly found hole in Grant's brand new comforter we bought him for Christmas
8. get baby stuff out of storage. Yes it's true we have nothing in this apartment for our new little one. except some diapers and wipes. No worries though right? I've got plenty of time.
9. finish boy fleece baby hat
10. finish the 4 or 5 posts in my drafts that have been sitting half finished for over a week
11. finalize a grocery list for this weekend
12. change the sheets on Grant's bed
13. clean bathroom counter
14. make a batch of waffles for the freezer
15. make a batch of pancake mix for the pantry
16. make a double batch of syrup to have on hand for easy breakfasts
17. DIY some nursing cami's
That's the majority of my list. Ok so it's not half a mile long but long enough that I should get my growing butt in gear and get some stuff marked off of it.
But actually reading this list makes me more tired and wanting another nap. Yep I said another one, because I took a short nap with Grant today telling myself I don't have much time left to relax and nap and that I should be taking advantage of these final days, and I mistakenly thought it would give me some energy.
Did I feel refreshed and ready to tackle anything on my list after this nap?
Heck no!
What did I do after this nap?
Changed into my pj's, came downstairs, wrapped up in a fleece blanket and laid down on the couch to watch tv.
Do you know what I want to do now?
Cover up with my fleece blanket, lay down on the couch, and watch a show other than a cartoon.
Is that gonna happen with my 3 year old full of energy after his nap?
Heck no!
Wednesday, February 19, 2014
Pregnancy and the Waddle
Everyone told me, when I was pregnant with Grant, that I would know when I was getting close to the end because he would drop. I asked these people how I would know when he dropped and their response was, it will feel like his head is sitting right between your legs. I remember thinking on my due date that this little boy was never going to come out because he hadn't even dropped yet. I never felt him in my pelvis, never felt like his head was sitting between my legs, never felt pressure from him being low in my pelvis. Not until I was actually in labor which happened the day after my due date. Because he never dropped, I never waddled. I worked up until the day before he was born, 40 hours a week in a doctor's office seeing around 70 patients a day. I walked from the parking lot to the office which I swear seemed like half a mile and up 2 flights of stairs. I rarely took the elevator because in all honesty every day I was walking in (in my final pregnancy weeks) I was saying silent prayers that walking like this would cause my water to break so I wouldn't have to go in to work, haha. Needless to say my water never broke until the doctor broke it for me at 7cm.
Fast forward to this pregnancy and I feel the waddle coming on. There is no doubt in my mind this baby has dropped. I feel it burrowing it's head into my pelvis like it's trying to find it's way out regardless of me being in labor or not. Sometimes I'm walking and I feel like the baby suddenly dropped a couple inches more and that's when the waddle starts. While I realize this is a good sign, it means the end is coming and I'll get to meet my little one soon, it's freakin uncomfortable and I don't like to waddle. It makes me feel like I'm huge! Of course, maybe I am and I'm just telling myself I'm not to make me feel better.
My stomach has stretched so much that my belly button actually hurts when my pants rub against it. Did you know that could happen?
Am I the only one who didn't?
I actually almost knocked Grant over the other day with my big belly, hahaha. I'm actually laughing out loud while I type this because he gave me such a dirty look for invading his space. I of course apologized after I stopped laughing but I seriously can't gage where my stomach is most of the time. Maybe my whole body is in denial about how big it is, haha.
I keep reminding myself the end is getting closer every day, and while there is not one single part of me that's looking forward to the pain that is labor, I'm sooooo ready to hold my little one and find out if Grant has a brother or sister.
I'm counting down.
Fast forward to this pregnancy and I feel the waddle coming on. There is no doubt in my mind this baby has dropped. I feel it burrowing it's head into my pelvis like it's trying to find it's way out regardless of me being in labor or not. Sometimes I'm walking and I feel like the baby suddenly dropped a couple inches more and that's when the waddle starts. While I realize this is a good sign, it means the end is coming and I'll get to meet my little one soon, it's freakin uncomfortable and I don't like to waddle. It makes me feel like I'm huge! Of course, maybe I am and I'm just telling myself I'm not to make me feel better.
My stomach has stretched so much that my belly button actually hurts when my pants rub against it. Did you know that could happen?
Am I the only one who didn't?
I actually almost knocked Grant over the other day with my big belly, hahaha. I'm actually laughing out loud while I type this because he gave me such a dirty look for invading his space. I of course apologized after I stopped laughing but I seriously can't gage where my stomach is most of the time. Maybe my whole body is in denial about how big it is, haha.
I keep reminding myself the end is getting closer every day, and while there is not one single part of me that's looking forward to the pain that is labor, I'm sooooo ready to hold my little one and find out if Grant has a brother or sister.
I'm counting down.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
Stay At Home Mama..."Why are you tired?"
I have to take a moment to vent a little.
As I'm nearing the end of my pregnancy I'm starting to take it a little easier. Occasionally I take a nap with my 3 year old (if you know me this is extremely rare and pre-pregnancy, unheard of), I let the dishes pile up at night and vow to do them in the morning instead of before bed, I rest more during the day and try not to feel guilty about it. As my due date gets closer I have had the slap in the face realization that I won't be getting any rest or sleep for awhile after this baby's born. It's easy to tell a first time mom to sleep when her baby sleeps, but when you have a 3 year old and an infant, I'm guessing the chances of both of them sleeping at the same time and me being able to lay down with them is slim to none.
And that's if this baby actually sleeps like a normal baby. My little Grant did not. He was too afraid of missing something I guess, cuz he fought sleep like nobody's business and has sleep issues to this day. Some things never change. People tell me every baby's different and while I believe that, I also know some of them don't sleep and I'm not gonna count on this one sleeping a lot.
My issue is people, who shall remain nameless, having the idea that being a stay at home mom is sitting on the couch all day watching tv with your little one. Being very pregnant, dealing with an energetic and very opinionated 3 year old, watching another 2 year old 2 days a week, keeping up with regular house stuff, and stating that you're tired only to hear the words "why are you tired?" (you know, said in that.. you don't work and haven't left the house all day what do you have to be tired from, way), coming back to you is like a slap in the face.
You might as well look me straight in the face and tell me I do nothing but sit on my rear all day eating and watching tv, and that is so not my day. Am I running around like a chicken with my head cut off all day every day, no. Does that mean I'm not busy, no.
Some days are more trying than others, some days I have my "it would be nice to go to work and get out of this house" moments. Those days are usually filled with a toddler back-talking and throwing tantrums the better part of a solid day, a 30 minute nap from said toddler who wakes up crying for unknown reasons and continues to throw this fit for another 30 solid minutes. It's cleaning up a pee soaked bed in the morning and a puddle of pee surrounding the toilet in the afternoon because he waited til the last minute to decide he really needed to go to the bathroom and didn't make it. It's cleaning food chunks out of the carpet 3 times a day because some idiot put carpet in the dining area of our apartment. Then add in a couple loads of laundry, 3 cooked meals, 2 or more snacks, multiple sippy cups of juice, vacuuming the carpets, unloading and reloading the dishwasher, and cleaning the kitchen.
But no, I have no reason to be tired in some people's eyes because I don't get up for "work" every day, leave the house, punch in on a time clock, and get a check for my work at the end of the week. I do all my work for free.
My little guy had his tonsils/adenoids taken out and every night for a week and a half he woke up multiple times a night crying. He always said he wasn't hurting yet wouldn't take a drink of his water and wouldn't stop crying for a good 5 minutes or so, long enough for it to take me 45 minutes to fall back asleep after he's calmed down. Then during the day he was in a sour attitude throwing tantrums constantly because of his lack of sleep. After more than a week of this I had hit my sleep deprived limit and got a little agitated throughout the day. When someone asked why I was agitated my response was, "because I haven't been getting any sleep at night, I'm dealing with a tired toddler during the day, and I'm tired". The response I got was, "well, you wanted this, you wanted to be at home so you shouldn't be aggravated".
Yes I want to be a stay at home mom. I don't want Grant basically raised by someone other than me, or someone else to see him more hours a day than I do. Does that mean I want to get no sleep? no.
Does that mean after a night of no more than 3 consecutive hours of sleep I wake up refreshed and ready to go and in a great mood? Probably not.
Does not getting hardly any sleep for a week straight and being tired and agitated mean I don't want to be a stay at home mom? absolutely not. It simply means, I'd like to get some sleep.
Let's face it, stay at home mom or not, if you have a sick child you get no sleep. Either way you are either getting up to leave the house for work the next morning or you are getting up to work at home the next morning. Meals still have to be cooked, dishes still have to be done, laundry still needs washed, and your little one still needs taken care of throughout the day. It's work either way just in different places, and you're still tired. You're not less tired because you didn't go outside the house to work.
I take care of most things in our house because I know I'm the one at home and that's what I signed up for. I don't expect anyone else to clean the toilet/tub, do the laundry or dishes, balance the checkbook, work out the budget, pay the bills, mop the floors, vacuum the carpets, pick up the living room before bed, change the sheets/pillowcases, keep track of doctor's appointments/medications, bath time, meal plan, grocery shop, or cook the meals. That's all me, and I'm okay with that.
What I'm not ok with is anyone out there thinking none of that counts for anything and that none of it is tiring. I've been a working woman before my son was born, I know that exhaustion. I've also been a working mom, and know that exhaustion as well, and there are days I'm more tired from a solid day spent at home with my 3 year old than if I went out and worked an 8 hour shift somewhere else.
We stay at home mom's work just as hard as a mom who works outside the house, just in different ways. I wouldn't trade staying home with my son for anything, even on the worst day. I'll never get these years back and I've never wanted to miss anything. It won't be long before Grant and this next little one is in school and then I'll be a working mama. Until then I'm a work at home mama, and yes I do work:)
As I'm nearing the end of my pregnancy I'm starting to take it a little easier. Occasionally I take a nap with my 3 year old (if you know me this is extremely rare and pre-pregnancy, unheard of), I let the dishes pile up at night and vow to do them in the morning instead of before bed, I rest more during the day and try not to feel guilty about it. As my due date gets closer I have had the slap in the face realization that I won't be getting any rest or sleep for awhile after this baby's born. It's easy to tell a first time mom to sleep when her baby sleeps, but when you have a 3 year old and an infant, I'm guessing the chances of both of them sleeping at the same time and me being able to lay down with them is slim to none.
And that's if this baby actually sleeps like a normal baby. My little Grant did not. He was too afraid of missing something I guess, cuz he fought sleep like nobody's business and has sleep issues to this day. Some things never change. People tell me every baby's different and while I believe that, I also know some of them don't sleep and I'm not gonna count on this one sleeping a lot.
My issue is people, who shall remain nameless, having the idea that being a stay at home mom is sitting on the couch all day watching tv with your little one. Being very pregnant, dealing with an energetic and very opinionated 3 year old, watching another 2 year old 2 days a week, keeping up with regular house stuff, and stating that you're tired only to hear the words "why are you tired?" (you know, said in that.. you don't work and haven't left the house all day what do you have to be tired from, way), coming back to you is like a slap in the face.
You might as well look me straight in the face and tell me I do nothing but sit on my rear all day eating and watching tv, and that is so not my day. Am I running around like a chicken with my head cut off all day every day, no. Does that mean I'm not busy, no.
Some days are more trying than others, some days I have my "it would be nice to go to work and get out of this house" moments. Those days are usually filled with a toddler back-talking and throwing tantrums the better part of a solid day, a 30 minute nap from said toddler who wakes up crying for unknown reasons and continues to throw this fit for another 30 solid minutes. It's cleaning up a pee soaked bed in the morning and a puddle of pee surrounding the toilet in the afternoon because he waited til the last minute to decide he really needed to go to the bathroom and didn't make it. It's cleaning food chunks out of the carpet 3 times a day because some idiot put carpet in the dining area of our apartment. Then add in a couple loads of laundry, 3 cooked meals, 2 or more snacks, multiple sippy cups of juice, vacuuming the carpets, unloading and reloading the dishwasher, and cleaning the kitchen.
But no, I have no reason to be tired in some people's eyes because I don't get up for "work" every day, leave the house, punch in on a time clock, and get a check for my work at the end of the week. I do all my work for free.
My little guy had his tonsils/adenoids taken out and every night for a week and a half he woke up multiple times a night crying. He always said he wasn't hurting yet wouldn't take a drink of his water and wouldn't stop crying for a good 5 minutes or so, long enough for it to take me 45 minutes to fall back asleep after he's calmed down. Then during the day he was in a sour attitude throwing tantrums constantly because of his lack of sleep. After more than a week of this I had hit my sleep deprived limit and got a little agitated throughout the day. When someone asked why I was agitated my response was, "because I haven't been getting any sleep at night, I'm dealing with a tired toddler during the day, and I'm tired". The response I got was, "well, you wanted this, you wanted to be at home so you shouldn't be aggravated".
Yes I want to be a stay at home mom. I don't want Grant basically raised by someone other than me, or someone else to see him more hours a day than I do. Does that mean I want to get no sleep? no.
Does that mean after a night of no more than 3 consecutive hours of sleep I wake up refreshed and ready to go and in a great mood? Probably not.
Does not getting hardly any sleep for a week straight and being tired and agitated mean I don't want to be a stay at home mom? absolutely not. It simply means, I'd like to get some sleep.
Let's face it, stay at home mom or not, if you have a sick child you get no sleep. Either way you are either getting up to leave the house for work the next morning or you are getting up to work at home the next morning. Meals still have to be cooked, dishes still have to be done, laundry still needs washed, and your little one still needs taken care of throughout the day. It's work either way just in different places, and you're still tired. You're not less tired because you didn't go outside the house to work.
I take care of most things in our house because I know I'm the one at home and that's what I signed up for. I don't expect anyone else to clean the toilet/tub, do the laundry or dishes, balance the checkbook, work out the budget, pay the bills, mop the floors, vacuum the carpets, pick up the living room before bed, change the sheets/pillowcases, keep track of doctor's appointments/medications, bath time, meal plan, grocery shop, or cook the meals. That's all me, and I'm okay with that.
What I'm not ok with is anyone out there thinking none of that counts for anything and that none of it is tiring. I've been a working woman before my son was born, I know that exhaustion. I've also been a working mom, and know that exhaustion as well, and there are days I'm more tired from a solid day spent at home with my 3 year old than if I went out and worked an 8 hour shift somewhere else.
We stay at home mom's work just as hard as a mom who works outside the house, just in different ways. I wouldn't trade staying home with my son for anything, even on the worst day. I'll never get these years back and I've never wanted to miss anything. It won't be long before Grant and this next little one is in school and then I'll be a working mama. Until then I'm a work at home mama, and yes I do work:)
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Crafting Standstill
I am at a serious crafting standstill. It's not for a lack of a to-do list. After all I have a few baby projects I need to get started on, my due date is quickly approaching. However, it's freakin cold here! Last night the wind chill was supposed to get down to 30 below. What the heck kind of weather is this? I've lived in Ohio all but 5 years of my life and I don't ever recall such weather or temperatures. It's pretty bad when it gets up to 31 degrees, you walk outside, and for a split second question whether or not you actually need a coat. Yes it feels that warm after weeks of single digit and negative temps.
You would think being stuck inside would push me to get started on projects but of course I'm lacking some much needed supplies. A trip to Joann's or Hobby Lobby would solve my problem but that would require me to get Grant bundled up like an eskimo, me bundled up, and then I'd actually have to step foot outside the warmth of my door. I just can't bring myself to do that just yet.
And after the many Christmas projects and then baby shower projects I've worked on, then Grant's surgery, I felt I needed a small break. A few days of no impending crafting deadlines. Of course that's just a mental thing because my baby projects need finished. After all you never know when a baby will make it's debut and I'm under no false illusions this time around that I will get much done after baby's arrival.
That all being said, someone needs to kick me in the booty to get things going.
You would think being stuck inside would push me to get started on projects but of course I'm lacking some much needed supplies. A trip to Joann's or Hobby Lobby would solve my problem but that would require me to get Grant bundled up like an eskimo, me bundled up, and then I'd actually have to step foot outside the warmth of my door. I just can't bring myself to do that just yet.
And after the many Christmas projects and then baby shower projects I've worked on, then Grant's surgery, I felt I needed a small break. A few days of no impending crafting deadlines. Of course that's just a mental thing because my baby projects need finished. After all you never know when a baby will make it's debut and I'm under no false illusions this time around that I will get much done after baby's arrival.
That all being said, someone needs to kick me in the booty to get things going.
Friday, January 17, 2014
A little boy's first surgery
My little guy had surgery yesterday. He had his tonsils taken out. They were so large he stopped breathing during the night and snored like a grown man. This is the first time he's really had anything done other than routine immunizations. I've been a wreck for the last week worried about it. Not that I didn't trust his doctor or think he was completely competent, but I'm a nurse, it's my job to know the worst case scenario. The stuff the doctors glaze over when they talk to you because the chances of it happening are slim to none. I hear all the horror stories and they somehow get logged somewhere in my brain.
Case in point my mom told me about a little girl on the news who had her tonsils taken out and never woke up, they had her on life support and the family was fighting to keep her on it. I knew such things can happen. Whether it be a grown adult or a child, you never know how someone's body will react to anesthesia. Sometimes seemingly perfectly healthy people just never wake up. This obviously freaked me out because I had no way of knowing how Grant would do under anesthesia, since he's never had anything done. So I prayed....A LOT. It was all I knew to do feeling as helpless as a mother can feel.
Not only did i fear the worst case scenario but I also know my son and I knew he would scream when they took him back. He has a severe fear of strangers. I started talking to Grant days ago about what they were going to do and that a nice nurse would come and take him to another room where he would go to sleep for a little while. So he knew when the nurse came in and we started giving him kisses he was leaving, and of course he started crying, reaching for me, saying "mama I need you, I don't wanna go". My heart broke right then and there. I couldn't stop crying. All I wanted to do was run back, grab my little boy, and take him home. Wouldn't any mother when their 3 year old is being taken away screaming for them? I knew nothing I said would reassure him and once again I was helpless.
My husband reminded me this was for his health and how it was necessary. It didn't keep me from crying but I knew he was right. Lucky for us a tonsillectomy takes a whopping 15 minutes. He came out of it great. Even though when we were taken back to see him in recovery he was crying. I knew he would be scared without someone he knew there and he would be in pain, but knowing it and then seeing him in pain are two different things. All I could do was hold him and for the next 3 hours I refused to let him go. After he was given some pain meds he was laughing, watching Team Umizoomi, and talking. We were blessed. We have a healthy little boy again and barring any complications maybe just maybe this will help his sleep habits. His doctor said this is probably why all his life he's never slept like a normal little one should. Even though I can't imagine him having had this done any younger than he is, he probably needed it a long time ago. However, I think God knew neither Grant nor I could have handled it back then, so now's when it was needed, before the baby came.
Coming home with my little guy I felt so blessed he came through it all fine with nothing other than a sore throat. Hopefully his recovery will go just as well.
Case in point my mom told me about a little girl on the news who had her tonsils taken out and never woke up, they had her on life support and the family was fighting to keep her on it. I knew such things can happen. Whether it be a grown adult or a child, you never know how someone's body will react to anesthesia. Sometimes seemingly perfectly healthy people just never wake up. This obviously freaked me out because I had no way of knowing how Grant would do under anesthesia, since he's never had anything done. So I prayed....A LOT. It was all I knew to do feeling as helpless as a mother can feel.
Not only did i fear the worst case scenario but I also know my son and I knew he would scream when they took him back. He has a severe fear of strangers. I started talking to Grant days ago about what they were going to do and that a nice nurse would come and take him to another room where he would go to sleep for a little while. So he knew when the nurse came in and we started giving him kisses he was leaving, and of course he started crying, reaching for me, saying "mama I need you, I don't wanna go". My heart broke right then and there. I couldn't stop crying. All I wanted to do was run back, grab my little boy, and take him home. Wouldn't any mother when their 3 year old is being taken away screaming for them? I knew nothing I said would reassure him and once again I was helpless.
My husband reminded me this was for his health and how it was necessary. It didn't keep me from crying but I knew he was right. Lucky for us a tonsillectomy takes a whopping 15 minutes. He came out of it great. Even though when we were taken back to see him in recovery he was crying. I knew he would be scared without someone he knew there and he would be in pain, but knowing it and then seeing him in pain are two different things. All I could do was hold him and for the next 3 hours I refused to let him go. After he was given some pain meds he was laughing, watching Team Umizoomi, and talking. We were blessed. We have a healthy little boy again and barring any complications maybe just maybe this will help his sleep habits. His doctor said this is probably why all his life he's never slept like a normal little one should. Even though I can't imagine him having had this done any younger than he is, he probably needed it a long time ago. However, I think God knew neither Grant nor I could have handled it back then, so now's when it was needed, before the baby came.
Coming home with my little guy I felt so blessed he came through it all fine with nothing other than a sore throat. Hopefully his recovery will go just as well.
Friday, December 27, 2013
Boy or Girl?
I have something I need to get off my chest. So if you aren't at all interested in reading my little rant please feel free to scroll on down and skip over this post.
I am pregnant with my second little one. My son is 3 and we have decided not to find out the gender of this one, or rather I decided not to find out since my husband is still trying to convince me otherwise. Like most people we found out my son was a boy at our ultrasound and were more than thrilled. However I've always wanted to be surprised and as my husband tells me this is probably our last baby, this is my last chance to have the surprise factor I've always wanted. Our families would much rather us find out since the suspense is killing them. I find the suspense a little fun, which is strange because I hate suspense in any other aspect of life or movies.
The frustrating part is that almost everyone is telling us this baby "needs" to be a girl, or they want this one to be a girl, or are hoping this ones a girl. I can honestly say, a girl would be nice since we have a boy but I have always thought Grant would be too cute with a little brother tagging along behind him. I can picture it and it melts my heart. I understand their wanting to buy girl things but this is something I have no control over. Whatever this baby is, boy or girl, is already decided and it's whatever the Lord sees fit for us to have.
People have been calling the baby a she, and by the girl name we have picked out. I have also been given bags of infant girl clothes "in case it's a girl". I have even been told by one laughing family member that even if we have a boy "we will dress him up like a girl" because we need to have a girl. Am I the only one that sees issues with all this girl talk.
I am a very stubborn person, I am opinionated, but I also try to hold my tongue since my mom taught me if you have nothing nice to say then keep your mouth shut, but I'm about at the end of my rope. Part of me wants to go to my next doctor's appointment and find out the gender just to shut everyone up, but how is that fair to me. I have even had dreams about having a boy and in the dream saying to my husband "people are going to be disappointed". That's horrible! I can't imagine being disappointed with either a boy or a girl and to have dreams that family members will be because all they have said for months is how much they want us to have a girl is unbelievably frustrating and a little heartbreaking.
Of course this is also similar to what everyone did to us about having another baby in general. When Grant hit a year old, everyone started asking us when we were going to have another baby, that Grant "needed a sibling", and we needed to have another one. We were in no way ready for another baby financially or emotionally but no one seemed to take that into consideration. When Grant turned 2 it got even worse. With family members we didn't see often it was the main topic of conversation our entire visit. Unbeknownst to me 2 years is the magic age your child turns when you are supposed to automatically have your second baby, because beyond that and your kids are "too far apart" in age.
Where do people get this stuff?
To me having a baby or another baby is a very personal and private issue between yourself and your husband. No one else's opinions should be taken into consideration and no one else should be giving their two cents unless directly asked for it.
The same goes for whether or not you're finding out the gender of your baby, and boy or girl should not matter in the least, and if it does to you then keep it to yourself and secretly cross your fingers but don't open your mouth about it. Healthy is all anyone should be hoping for, as there is a 50/50 chance of either gender and there are reasons we are given what we are given, we just don't know them yet.
My rant is done now, just needed to put it out there so I can stop stewing about it and maybe let it go and laugh it off.
Ok probably won't laugh it off but at least maybe stop letting it bother me so much. The next months will fly by and soon enough we will know one way or the other, and others can be excited or not but I will be thrilled just to have another little one and Grant to have a sibling.
I am pregnant with my second little one. My son is 3 and we have decided not to find out the gender of this one, or rather I decided not to find out since my husband is still trying to convince me otherwise. Like most people we found out my son was a boy at our ultrasound and were more than thrilled. However I've always wanted to be surprised and as my husband tells me this is probably our last baby, this is my last chance to have the surprise factor I've always wanted. Our families would much rather us find out since the suspense is killing them. I find the suspense a little fun, which is strange because I hate suspense in any other aspect of life or movies.
The frustrating part is that almost everyone is telling us this baby "needs" to be a girl, or they want this one to be a girl, or are hoping this ones a girl. I can honestly say, a girl would be nice since we have a boy but I have always thought Grant would be too cute with a little brother tagging along behind him. I can picture it and it melts my heart. I understand their wanting to buy girl things but this is something I have no control over. Whatever this baby is, boy or girl, is already decided and it's whatever the Lord sees fit for us to have.
People have been calling the baby a she, and by the girl name we have picked out. I have also been given bags of infant girl clothes "in case it's a girl". I have even been told by one laughing family member that even if we have a boy "we will dress him up like a girl" because we need to have a girl. Am I the only one that sees issues with all this girl talk.
I am a very stubborn person, I am opinionated, but I also try to hold my tongue since my mom taught me if you have nothing nice to say then keep your mouth shut, but I'm about at the end of my rope. Part of me wants to go to my next doctor's appointment and find out the gender just to shut everyone up, but how is that fair to me. I have even had dreams about having a boy and in the dream saying to my husband "people are going to be disappointed". That's horrible! I can't imagine being disappointed with either a boy or a girl and to have dreams that family members will be because all they have said for months is how much they want us to have a girl is unbelievably frustrating and a little heartbreaking.
Of course this is also similar to what everyone did to us about having another baby in general. When Grant hit a year old, everyone started asking us when we were going to have another baby, that Grant "needed a sibling", and we needed to have another one. We were in no way ready for another baby financially or emotionally but no one seemed to take that into consideration. When Grant turned 2 it got even worse. With family members we didn't see often it was the main topic of conversation our entire visit. Unbeknownst to me 2 years is the magic age your child turns when you are supposed to automatically have your second baby, because beyond that and your kids are "too far apart" in age.
Where do people get this stuff?
To me having a baby or another baby is a very personal and private issue between yourself and your husband. No one else's opinions should be taken into consideration and no one else should be giving their two cents unless directly asked for it.
The same goes for whether or not you're finding out the gender of your baby, and boy or girl should not matter in the least, and if it does to you then keep it to yourself and secretly cross your fingers but don't open your mouth about it. Healthy is all anyone should be hoping for, as there is a 50/50 chance of either gender and there are reasons we are given what we are given, we just don't know them yet.
My rant is done now, just needed to put it out there so I can stop stewing about it and maybe let it go and laugh it off.
Ok probably won't laugh it off but at least maybe stop letting it bother me so much. The next months will fly by and soon enough we will know one way or the other, and others can be excited or not but I will be thrilled just to have another little one and Grant to have a sibling.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
Mama Ramblings: Shots to tell or not to tell
My little guy had to go to the Doctor today. This was his first time being at the doctor in a year and 3 weeks. I consider this amazing as we all know how often kids get ear infections, stomach bugs, etc and it seems when kids are young doctor visits are a constant thing. We have been extremely blessed with Grant's health and that is not in the least bit taken for granted. I am thankful for it every day.
I have struggled with how to approach doctor visits with Grant. Whether to tell him as little as possible or explain everything and risk him getting scared and throwing a fit. Since his previous trips were so long ago I knew he didn't remember what going to the doctor entailed, and I could never fully explain everything for him to understand due to his age.
This trip was different. Grant talks all the time and understands so much more now that he is 3. I originally thought he was all caught up on shots and this would be a routine, "how's he doing", visit. Then we got there and found he needed a few different immunizations. I immediately started trying to decide if it's better for a child not to know or be warned ahead of time. I opted to tell him he was going to get shots. I thought maybe if he knew he wouldn't fight it and would trust what I tell him in regards to future visits. I explained every aspect of shots even that they would hurt. I told him they felt a little like when Sophie pinches him. I even warned him he was going to have to lay down because for some reason he starts to freak out a little when he has to lay down and someone he doesn't know is near him.
To my surprise he handled all the information great. He asked questions, "why do I have to get a shot?" to which my answer was "because these shots make us not get sick". "Why do they have to give me a shot in my leg?", to which my answer was "because little boys and girls have small arms and the shots would hurt more if they gave them to you in the arm". Even forewarned he didn't like laying down (no tantrum about it though) and he cried when they were finished. It breaks my heart every time but I try not to make a big to-do about it. I love on him a minute letting him know I understand then quickly try to get his mind off of it after letting him know how great he did. For him calling his dad and telling him all about it always makes everything better.
Now he complains of his legs hurting and wants me to hold his hand for a minute to make him feel better. It's one of the sweetest things. He is growing so fast and has such a unique personality. I think every mom struggles with how to tell their kids things. Obviously a doctor visit and shots is a small stepping stone to the many other much more important bigger conversations we will have but I think it's important to let Grant know I will tell him the truth even when he may not like it. I don't ever want him to feel like I won't give him the whole story.
I think sometimes we under estimate our kids and what they can handle because we so desperately want to protect them. This trip reminded me how quickly Grant is growing up and how important it is to start early talking to him, explaining things, and discussing things.
I have struggled with how to approach doctor visits with Grant. Whether to tell him as little as possible or explain everything and risk him getting scared and throwing a fit. Since his previous trips were so long ago I knew he didn't remember what going to the doctor entailed, and I could never fully explain everything for him to understand due to his age.
This trip was different. Grant talks all the time and understands so much more now that he is 3. I originally thought he was all caught up on shots and this would be a routine, "how's he doing", visit. Then we got there and found he needed a few different immunizations. I immediately started trying to decide if it's better for a child not to know or be warned ahead of time. I opted to tell him he was going to get shots. I thought maybe if he knew he wouldn't fight it and would trust what I tell him in regards to future visits. I explained every aspect of shots even that they would hurt. I told him they felt a little like when Sophie pinches him. I even warned him he was going to have to lay down because for some reason he starts to freak out a little when he has to lay down and someone he doesn't know is near him.
To my surprise he handled all the information great. He asked questions, "why do I have to get a shot?" to which my answer was "because these shots make us not get sick". "Why do they have to give me a shot in my leg?", to which my answer was "because little boys and girls have small arms and the shots would hurt more if they gave them to you in the arm". Even forewarned he didn't like laying down (no tantrum about it though) and he cried when they were finished. It breaks my heart every time but I try not to make a big to-do about it. I love on him a minute letting him know I understand then quickly try to get his mind off of it after letting him know how great he did. For him calling his dad and telling him all about it always makes everything better.
Now he complains of his legs hurting and wants me to hold his hand for a minute to make him feel better. It's one of the sweetest things. He is growing so fast and has such a unique personality. I think every mom struggles with how to tell their kids things. Obviously a doctor visit and shots is a small stepping stone to the many other much more important bigger conversations we will have but I think it's important to let Grant know I will tell him the truth even when he may not like it. I don't ever want him to feel like I won't give him the whole story.
I think sometimes we under estimate our kids and what they can handle because we so desperately want to protect them. This trip reminded me how quickly Grant is growing up and how important it is to start early talking to him, explaining things, and discussing things.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Mama Ramblings: Quiet Time
As young people we think nothing of having quiet time and actually very rarely enjoy it. Because if you're a teenager or in your early twenties more than likely you are almost always surrounded by friends or making plans to go out with them. Then we get married and we still have some quiet time, not as much, but it's still there. Then we have kids, and out the window our quiet time goes.
Now we all know this will happen when we make the decision to have a child. I remember thinking to myself that my life will no longer be my own and there would be a screaming baby interrupting my sleep, then a toddler and so on. However, I never fully grasped the craving I would have for that missed quiet time. I am a person who was perfectly happy having "me time". I lived on my own (no I didn't even live with my now husband before we were married) for a good 4-5 years. I loved having control of the remote, the contents of my fridge, and the evenings doing whatever I wanted in my own apartment. When I started dating my husband a little of that time was given up and I struggled for a while to adjust.
Confession: I am not one for change, I don't handle it well, never have never will.
When we got married, there was a little less but I enjoyed coming home to someone else and reveling in being a newlywed. Then came little Mister Grant. He was probably the biggest adjustment I've ever made in my life and the best too. I like to think Grant and I kind of grew up and adjusted together. He is not one for change (wonder where he gets it?) and he was a difficult infant. He and I took a long time to adjust to me learning my mothering role. He and I were never apart for more than a total of 5 hours his first 10 months of life. He didn't ride in a car without me in the same car until he was 11 months old. All that time it was he and I together learning our roles (My husband was there part of the time but he worked long hours to support us). Many people wonder why Grant is so attached to me and I so overprotectively attached to him and it baffles me that they can't figure it out. The first 10 months of his life he saw my face nearly every second of the day (and it felt like every second of the night since he wasn't much for sleeping), so why wouldn't we be overly attached to each other?
Now that he is nearly 3 you would think we would have things down to a science but no such luck haha. I firmly believe he has a 6th sense that is, "mama's doing something". He knows when I get out of bed even when he is in his deepest sleep. He is always up within 10 minutes of me getting up, so yes I practically run to the shower crossing my fingers I can get finished before I hear his feet hit the floor. If he is watching a cartoon intently he will notice the second I get up to do something, even if his back is to me, I will inevitably hear the words "mama, what you doin'?" Even if my response is "just going to the bathroom", he will no doubt follow me to make sure I'm not doing anything else he might be interested in "helping" with.
I fought against this for awhile, getting aggravated that I can't even go to the bathroom or take a shower without company, you would think after 3 years I would be used to it by now.
What can I say I'm a slow learner.
Or maybe just a teeny bit of a control freak who thinks she can have things her way (I've often thought God gave me Grant to change this negative personality trait and make me a better person:)
I'm trying to turn a new leaf, I remind myself that it won't be like this forever and I will miss these days when Grant is a teenager and would rather be out with friends or in his room by himself than with his mom. I know I will look back and think I should have appreciated this time for what it is instead of fighting against it. Children have such a short time to just be kids, innocent, hopeful, and unaware of the harsh realities out there. This time is growing shorter and shorter nowadays, and I know the last thing I want him to remember about me is that I always wanted to be by myself or was aggravated all the time. I pray quite frequently for more patience, understanding, and that Grant will forgive his Mama for her shortcomings. I think as mom's we are always wondering whether we are doing a good job, always second guessing ourselves, hoping our kids will know we love them even when we are disciplining them or having a bad day.
Grant amazes me every day. He is his own person, independent opinionated and strong minded at the age of nearly 3. I know this next little one will amaze me as well. And as for that quiet time, well I'm guessing this new little one will take up the little bit I have acquired over the last few years and we will all adjust to that as well.
Now we all know this will happen when we make the decision to have a child. I remember thinking to myself that my life will no longer be my own and there would be a screaming baby interrupting my sleep, then a toddler and so on. However, I never fully grasped the craving I would have for that missed quiet time. I am a person who was perfectly happy having "me time". I lived on my own (no I didn't even live with my now husband before we were married) for a good 4-5 years. I loved having control of the remote, the contents of my fridge, and the evenings doing whatever I wanted in my own apartment. When I started dating my husband a little of that time was given up and I struggled for a while to adjust.
Confession: I am not one for change, I don't handle it well, never have never will.
When we got married, there was a little less but I enjoyed coming home to someone else and reveling in being a newlywed. Then came little Mister Grant. He was probably the biggest adjustment I've ever made in my life and the best too. I like to think Grant and I kind of grew up and adjusted together. He is not one for change (wonder where he gets it?) and he was a difficult infant. He and I took a long time to adjust to me learning my mothering role. He and I were never apart for more than a total of 5 hours his first 10 months of life. He didn't ride in a car without me in the same car until he was 11 months old. All that time it was he and I together learning our roles (My husband was there part of the time but he worked long hours to support us). Many people wonder why Grant is so attached to me and I so overprotectively attached to him and it baffles me that they can't figure it out. The first 10 months of his life he saw my face nearly every second of the day (and it felt like every second of the night since he wasn't much for sleeping), so why wouldn't we be overly attached to each other?
Now that he is nearly 3 you would think we would have things down to a science but no such luck haha. I firmly believe he has a 6th sense that is, "mama's doing something". He knows when I get out of bed even when he is in his deepest sleep. He is always up within 10 minutes of me getting up, so yes I practically run to the shower crossing my fingers I can get finished before I hear his feet hit the floor. If he is watching a cartoon intently he will notice the second I get up to do something, even if his back is to me, I will inevitably hear the words "mama, what you doin'?" Even if my response is "just going to the bathroom", he will no doubt follow me to make sure I'm not doing anything else he might be interested in "helping" with.
I fought against this for awhile, getting aggravated that I can't even go to the bathroom or take a shower without company, you would think after 3 years I would be used to it by now.
What can I say I'm a slow learner.
Or maybe just a teeny bit of a control freak who thinks she can have things her way (I've often thought God gave me Grant to change this negative personality trait and make me a better person:)
I'm trying to turn a new leaf, I remind myself that it won't be like this forever and I will miss these days when Grant is a teenager and would rather be out with friends or in his room by himself than with his mom. I know I will look back and think I should have appreciated this time for what it is instead of fighting against it. Children have such a short time to just be kids, innocent, hopeful, and unaware of the harsh realities out there. This time is growing shorter and shorter nowadays, and I know the last thing I want him to remember about me is that I always wanted to be by myself or was aggravated all the time. I pray quite frequently for more patience, understanding, and that Grant will forgive his Mama for her shortcomings. I think as mom's we are always wondering whether we are doing a good job, always second guessing ourselves, hoping our kids will know we love them even when we are disciplining them or having a bad day.
Grant amazes me every day. He is his own person, independent opinionated and strong minded at the age of nearly 3. I know this next little one will amaze me as well. And as for that quiet time, well I'm guessing this new little one will take up the little bit I have acquired over the last few years and we will all adjust to that as well.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
LinkWithin
