Our son is due to arrive this week, and we are quite excited about it. While his sister arrived a week early, it appears this one will not be following suit. This is perfectly okay with us, as we are about as unprepared to bring our newborn home as we could possibly be! Okay, it's not really that bad, but it could definitely be a whole lot better. We have bought diapers, but I am putting off packing a "to-go" bag. His room is set up, but he won't be sleeping in it for at least a month... meanwhile, the bed-side sleeper I bought STILL has not arrived (despite its anticipated arrival date of 21-25 January).
The second child is definitely a different expectation from the first. While I was just beside myself and eager to meet our firstborn, I am silently willing this boy to stay put at least for another day. My mother arrives tomorrow night to help with toddler care and new baby care and exhausted parent care. Considering our current living circumstances (far away from nearly everyone we care about), it is reasonable to see why I would want him to wait. We are still, of course, excited to meet him. My husband, actually, is more excited this time because he is no longer afraid of fatherhood. He is the one who keeps telling me to go pack my bag.
Guess I should get on that.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
E is THREE!!!
Yesterday, my firstborn turned three. It is absolutely impossible to imagine the road we've taken over these past three years (nearly four, if you include the pregnancy too). Today we will celebrate with friends while enduring even more of her obsession with Thomas the Train.
She says things that embarrass us, cause us to laugh hysterically, anger us, surprise us, and sometimes all of that happens at once. She does things that infuriate us to no end, and she does other things that just melt our hearts. Her smile sends us over the moon; her (real) cry breaks us into a million pieces. Her fake cry annoys us. Her secret language baffles us, as does her command of vocabulary in English and even a little Spanish.
We just never know what each day will bring us, and we're reveling in this short period of time we have left with just her before our world changes again with the arrival of our son in (more or less) a month.
She says things that embarrass us, cause us to laugh hysterically, anger us, surprise us, and sometimes all of that happens at once. She does things that infuriate us to no end, and she does other things that just melt our hearts. Her smile sends us over the moon; her (real) cry breaks us into a million pieces. Her fake cry annoys us. Her secret language baffles us, as does her command of vocabulary in English and even a little Spanish.
We just never know what each day will bring us, and we're reveling in this short period of time we have left with just her before our world changes again with the arrival of our son in (more or less) a month.
Sunday, December 26, 2010
The Male of the Species
I have often found it sort of sad that my dear, sweet husband (who is otherwise there for me at every turn) just seems to check out during my pregnancies. I thought, the first time, that it was because he was afraid of fatherhood. He confirmed as much in a few different conversations we'd had. However, I thought maybe this time (now that he's conquered "fatherhood" quite well) he'd be a little more excited about pregnancy number two and the impending birth of a son.
Turns out, men tend to see their pregnant wives in a whole different way. Pregnancy is like a "Keep Off the Grass" sign to the men. My husband describes it as a feeling of waiting to have his wife back. Now, while he is thrilled and excited about the birth of his second child and knows full well he can rock being a superdad a second time, he is not excited to know about every inner working of my changing body, the growth of our boy, if that distortion on my belly is an elbow or a knee, the exact expansion rate of my ribcage, how our son's head is pressing on my bladder, or that he has relentless hiccups that keep me up at night.
It's a perspective issue. We mommies see the pregnancy as a miracle unto itself. The changes our bodies undergo to support the growing life inside us, the way we were perfectly formed to carry out the mission of developing and giving birth to a new life, the way we were built to nurture this new life with our perfectly formulated, natural, wholesome milk supply, and so on.
To daddies, the true miracle begins after the baby has entered the outside world. To them, it's a miracle that such a tiny thing will grow to be a real person someday. It's a miracle that his wife has done such an amazing thing as childbirth. It's a miracle that someday she'll look like her old self (God-willing, anyway). It's a miracle that, despite all the hustle-bustle that often occurs after birth (especially in a hospital), that he can't focus on anything but that tiny little baby and his radiant wife, who is now a mother (and this reminds him that he is a FATHER!!). And, of course, it's a miracle to the new daddy that he is able to function with so little sleep once baby and mommy come home with him!
I don't feel so sad about it now. I understand that men see pregnancy and childbirth as secret clubs for women, and that no matter how much we try to make them a part of the whole process, all they really want to do is be present, holding our hands, telling us we're doing great (while simultaneously wondering if he's doing great), secretly wondering if we're in agonizing pain and why he can't make it better, and ultimately kissing us and holding their progeny in complete awe.
The miracle and the mystery is for us mommies to enjoy.
Turns out, men tend to see their pregnant wives in a whole different way. Pregnancy is like a "Keep Off the Grass" sign to the men. My husband describes it as a feeling of waiting to have his wife back. Now, while he is thrilled and excited about the birth of his second child and knows full well he can rock being a superdad a second time, he is not excited to know about every inner working of my changing body, the growth of our boy, if that distortion on my belly is an elbow or a knee, the exact expansion rate of my ribcage, how our son's head is pressing on my bladder, or that he has relentless hiccups that keep me up at night.
It's a perspective issue. We mommies see the pregnancy as a miracle unto itself. The changes our bodies undergo to support the growing life inside us, the way we were perfectly formed to carry out the mission of developing and giving birth to a new life, the way we were built to nurture this new life with our perfectly formulated, natural, wholesome milk supply, and so on.
To daddies, the true miracle begins after the baby has entered the outside world. To them, it's a miracle that such a tiny thing will grow to be a real person someday. It's a miracle that his wife has done such an amazing thing as childbirth. It's a miracle that someday she'll look like her old self (God-willing, anyway). It's a miracle that, despite all the hustle-bustle that often occurs after birth (especially in a hospital), that he can't focus on anything but that tiny little baby and his radiant wife, who is now a mother (and this reminds him that he is a FATHER!!). And, of course, it's a miracle to the new daddy that he is able to function with so little sleep once baby and mommy come home with him!
I don't feel so sad about it now. I understand that men see pregnancy and childbirth as secret clubs for women, and that no matter how much we try to make them a part of the whole process, all they really want to do is be present, holding our hands, telling us we're doing great (while simultaneously wondering if he's doing great), secretly wondering if we're in agonizing pain and why he can't make it better, and ultimately kissing us and holding their progeny in complete awe.
The miracle and the mystery is for us mommies to enjoy.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Gender Prediction via Old Wives' Tales
As a mother of a girl who is now carrying a boy, there are definitely some differences between them. But how reliable are those old wives' tales we've all heard about? Numerous websites exist to help you "predict" your unborn child's gender. Consider the following:
Everyone I've talked to who also had boys noticed this excessive fetal movement as well. So, I would guess that it can be another "wives' tale" to add to the list.
Of course, all of these gender prediction methods should be taken as entertainment or fun only. The really sure way to tell if it's a boy or girl is the post-20-weeks ultrasound or amniocentesis. Or, of course, if you are waiting for the surprise... birth!
- Take a quiz to predict your baby's gender at BabyGenderPrediction.com or Parents.com (but be advised, some of the quizzes are tedious and may ask things you might not know, like how overweight or underweight you were before pregnancy or during it)
- Before you even conceive, Pregnancy-Info will tell you what to do to ensure conception of a boy or girl
- Chinese Birthday Calendars, which use your age and the month of conception to predict the sex, can be found anywhere online - here's one at WebWomb.com (it says I'm having a girl... ha ha)
- Carrying high = girl, carrying low = boy (although I've heard it the opposite way also)
- Shiny, glossy hair and strong nails, little to no morning sickness = boy, looking and feeling like crap = girl - supposedly, because girls steal their mothers' beauty (for me it was the other way around - I had the shiny hair the first time with my girl and this time more breakouts and nails that break at the drop of a hat - AND I was way more nauseated with my son)
- 140+ bmp fetal heart rate = girl, lower HR = boy (this one was true for me)
- Craving sweets = girl, craving sour/salty foods = boy (this was SO not the case for me)
- Here's one I never heard before (and have not tried): The Drano Test. Pee in a cup, pour in a tablespoon of Drano (yes, the stuff you unclog drains with) and watch to see if it changes color. In theory, green = girl, and blue = boy.
- Legendary Mayan prediction methods are to look at the age of the mother at conception and the year of conception. If both are even or both odd, it's a girl. If one is even and the other is odd, it's a boy. (again, this would make my child a girl, so I'm not sure how accurate it is)
- A VERY old tradition is to take off your wedding ring and tie it to a string. Hang in front of your belly. If the ring tick-tocks like a pendulum, it's a girl. If it goes around in a circular motion, it's a boy.
Everyone I've talked to who also had boys noticed this excessive fetal movement as well. So, I would guess that it can be another "wives' tale" to add to the list.
Of course, all of these gender prediction methods should be taken as entertainment or fun only. The really sure way to tell if it's a boy or girl is the post-20-weeks ultrasound or amniocentesis. Or, of course, if you are waiting for the surprise... birth!
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Pre-school?
I got two notes when I picked my daughter up from daycare today. The first one was an injury report - she had scratches on her face from a little boy in her class. The daycare center is not permitted to name the other child in the incident, but E totally ratted him out. She pointed at him and said, "He did it!" Luckily, I'm not one of "those moms" who tries to wait out the parent of the offending child so I can say something to him or her. No, because I know my own child is the instigator. And of course, she was today too. She tried to take away his toy and was successful. He tried to get it back, so she hit him. Then he scratched her face. End of scenario.
The second note I got was about putting her in the all-day pre-school class starting next week. She's been doing much better with her potty training, so they decided that for her own development, she should really go to the pre-school class instead of the toddler class. She will be in a room with three- and four-year-olds. She turns three in January. I am delighted at her intelligence and social development because this means she can engage the rapidly-growing part of her brain where language and math are emerging. I'm also sad because my little girl is definitely no baby.
Pre-school! Wow. We're really moving up.
The second note I got was about putting her in the all-day pre-school class starting next week. She's been doing much better with her potty training, so they decided that for her own development, she should really go to the pre-school class instead of the toddler class. She will be in a room with three- and four-year-olds. She turns three in January. I am delighted at her intelligence and social development because this means she can engage the rapidly-growing part of her brain where language and math are emerging. I'm also sad because my little girl is definitely no baby.
Pre-school! Wow. We're really moving up.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Out of the mouths of babes, bladder punches, and movies
If people listed things they never thought they'd hear their children say... wow, what a massive, hysterically funny, awkward, and embarrassing list that would be! At the daycare where my daughter goes while I'm at work each day, they have a curriculum that requires observed behaviors be annotated on a periodic basis. To make the process easier, the teachers have a "system" whereby the observer can just jot down a quick note on a sticky and slide it into a pocket labeled with the child's name. Parents may look at these, but not remove them, as they are subsequently recorded on a more official-looking document later.
I read my daughter's observations. And nearly died laughing.
1. "E was coloring a picture. She took picture to teacher and said, 'Look! I drew a loofah!' - Vocabulary/Language Development"
2. "E was asked if she needed to use the potty. She yelled 'NO!' Teacher said, 'But if you don't use the potty, you might have an accident.' E used the potty! :-) "
3. "E brought the toy phone to a teacher and said, 'It won't work. It needs to be charged.' - Cognitive"
In news on my son, he moves quite a lot during the day, night, and in between. At my last appointment (with an OB this time, rather than a midwife), the doctor could barely get him to hold still long enough to get a heart rate. It was 147, which I thought to be kind of low, but he seemed unconcerned. The most annoying thing he does is punch me in the bladder. It isn't painful, but it is very unnerving. It feels like a small electric shock or hitting your funny bone from the inside. I dislike it, to say the very least.
In my quest to learn more about childbirth the natural way, I watched "The Business of Being Born," a documentary by Ricki Lake and Abby Epstein, which is available on Netflix Instant View. What an eye-opening experience that one was! Their research further confirms what I've read in Barbara Harper's "Gentle Birth Choices." Statistically speaking, the U.S. is second to last among developed countries in infant and maternal mortality rates. I want more and more to have a home birth, but I don't know if I want to mess with all the drama with changing my insurance to cover it, and then changing it back later. Or if I can even do that. I wonder how much is covered if I try to pay for a home birth outright with the kind of insurance I already have.
I was even more horrified after reading posts from My OB Said WHAT?!? a website that documents things obstetricians (and other medical specialists who deal with birth) said to their patients during their various examinations, when they asked questions, or during birth. Sadly, even midwives are on there.
My first birth experience was by no means terrible. But when I think back on the whole experience, oxygen mask on my face, being unable to really lead my own birth experience because I couldn't effectively tell when my contractions were coming - only when they were there, being unable to move, being catheterized, running out of drugs before the birth, having a baby that struggled to latch on to nurse, and watching her cry when they did all the "medical" stuff they do to babies these days, I just think there is a better way. And the hospital I birthed in was pretty progressive in terms of giving moms more options, having midwives on the staff (a midwife delivered my baby), and even allowing women to labor (but not birth) in a tub. So, the exploration of my options continues.
I turned down the Glucose Tolerance Test (GTT) at my 24 week appointment (I was 25 weeks, but no matter). The doctor was shocked. I hate the taste of that stuff, and really how reliable is a test that subjects you to an unnatural situation to see if your body can process that much sugar in an hour? We'll see how well that one goes over at my next appointment. It's with a midwife.
I read my daughter's observations. And nearly died laughing.
1. "E was coloring a picture. She took picture to teacher and said, 'Look! I drew a loofah!' - Vocabulary/Language Development"
2. "E was asked if she needed to use the potty. She yelled 'NO!' Teacher said, 'But if you don't use the potty, you might have an accident.' E used the potty! :-) "
3. "E brought the toy phone to a teacher and said, 'It won't work. It needs to be charged.' - Cognitive"
In news on my son, he moves quite a lot during the day, night, and in between. At my last appointment (with an OB this time, rather than a midwife), the doctor could barely get him to hold still long enough to get a heart rate. It was 147, which I thought to be kind of low, but he seemed unconcerned. The most annoying thing he does is punch me in the bladder. It isn't painful, but it is very unnerving. It feels like a small electric shock or hitting your funny bone from the inside. I dislike it, to say the very least.
In my quest to learn more about childbirth the natural way, I watched "The Business of Being Born," a documentary by Ricki Lake and Abby Epstein, which is available on Netflix Instant View. What an eye-opening experience that one was! Their research further confirms what I've read in Barbara Harper's "Gentle Birth Choices." Statistically speaking, the U.S. is second to last among developed countries in infant and maternal mortality rates. I want more and more to have a home birth, but I don't know if I want to mess with all the drama with changing my insurance to cover it, and then changing it back later. Or if I can even do that. I wonder how much is covered if I try to pay for a home birth outright with the kind of insurance I already have.
I was even more horrified after reading posts from My OB Said WHAT?!? a website that documents things obstetricians (and other medical specialists who deal with birth) said to their patients during their various examinations, when they asked questions, or during birth. Sadly, even midwives are on there.
My first birth experience was by no means terrible. But when I think back on the whole experience, oxygen mask on my face, being unable to really lead my own birth experience because I couldn't effectively tell when my contractions were coming - only when they were there, being unable to move, being catheterized, running out of drugs before the birth, having a baby that struggled to latch on to nurse, and watching her cry when they did all the "medical" stuff they do to babies these days, I just think there is a better way. And the hospital I birthed in was pretty progressive in terms of giving moms more options, having midwives on the staff (a midwife delivered my baby), and even allowing women to labor (but not birth) in a tub. So, the exploration of my options continues.
I turned down the Glucose Tolerance Test (GTT) at my 24 week appointment (I was 25 weeks, but no matter). The doctor was shocked. I hate the taste of that stuff, and really how reliable is a test that subjects you to an unnatural situation to see if your body can process that much sugar in an hour? We'll see how well that one goes over at my next appointment. It's with a midwife.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Over halfway, and yet...so far!
I am over halfway through this pregnancy. When anxiously anticipating the arrival of a sweet new baby to your family, it is often quite difficult to be patient and allow the baby to grow at his own pace. Yet, here I am, at only 22 weeks and 5 days, eagerly looking ahead. And of course, my daughter, who is stirring from her nap in the next room, is only 33 months old (okay, okay, she's almost 3 years old) - and when I think of how we must raise our children to adulthood, we are SO far away from eighteen.
I am glad for that. I hear of how my friends' children are in first grade, or how their baby who was born like yesterday is already ten weeks old. My nephew, who is eleven, can now wear shoes in the men's department. I don't want our lives to go so whirlwind-fast like that, but it cannot be slowed. My eagerness to fast-forward to the birth of my son is unnecessary. It will be here far too soon, far before we are ready, before his room is ready, before his big sister is ready, before winter is over, and I could go on.
But so much of our lives are spent waiting for the next hurdle to cross that we sometimes forget to enjoy the moment we are in. I want more of my life to be about right now. Tomorrow is great, but there are no guarantees. What regret, to live a life for tomorrow and forget to experience today!
So now I listen for my daughter to come out of her room, ready to use the potty like a big girl, and I wonder if my son will be anything remotely like her. Will we need re-training as parents so we can know how to raise our boy? Ah, who cares? That is still months away. Right now my daughter needs me. And that is more than enough!
I am glad for that. I hear of how my friends' children are in first grade, or how their baby who was born like yesterday is already ten weeks old. My nephew, who is eleven, can now wear shoes in the men's department. I don't want our lives to go so whirlwind-fast like that, but it cannot be slowed. My eagerness to fast-forward to the birth of my son is unnecessary. It will be here far too soon, far before we are ready, before his room is ready, before his big sister is ready, before winter is over, and I could go on.
But so much of our lives are spent waiting for the next hurdle to cross that we sometimes forget to enjoy the moment we are in. I want more of my life to be about right now. Tomorrow is great, but there are no guarantees. What regret, to live a life for tomorrow and forget to experience today!
So now I listen for my daughter to come out of her room, ready to use the potty like a big girl, and I wonder if my son will be anything remotely like her. Will we need re-training as parents so we can know how to raise our boy? Ah, who cares? That is still months away. Right now my daughter needs me. And that is more than enough!
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