maternal

Have I mentioned that my sister and I often show up at a function and discover we're wearing the same outfit? It's strange, and it's only developed in the last few years. I guess our tastes - and budgets - are finally meeting in the middle.

So here we are - Allison at 35 1/2 weeks pregnant, and me, not. Dressed the same (coincidentally, again) at her baby shower:



Isn't she adorable? Pregnant bellies are so cute on other people.

Also, OH MY GOSH MY BABY SISTER IS ABOUT TO BE A MOTHER. New babies are so FUN and EXCITING when other people are having them. When it's my turn, I am so overwhelmed that I usually miss the forest for the sleep deprivation, but when it's other people doing the birthing - and hopefully not the c-section recovery - I get all philosophical about it.

Happy Monday everyone. And yay for my sister!

birth plans, discipline, sleep deprivation, another gift,

and a partridge in a pear tree.

1. I don't have a written birth plan. Like Julie, they feel a little silly to me, because if I have learned anything in the past few years, it's how little of life we get to plan. Parties and field trips, that's about it. Everything else is outside of our control. Even so, I have learned a few things from the previous experience, and I know a little more about what I do and don't want this time around. I DO want to sleep at night, if at all humanly possible (isn't it ironic that in an institution created specifically for healing, it's almost impossible to get any sleep?). I DON'T want to bring home an exhausted and confused toddler, matched by his exhausted and overwhelmed parents, so I'm going to do my best not to be a baby and to let Brian and Asher have a normal night time routine at home while I'm in the hospital. I also DON'T want any more pain medication than I absolutely have to have. I'm a lightweight, my doctor says, and pain medicine messes with my head (so does anesthesia, but with a cesarean, that's unavoidable). I'd almost rather deal with the pain than deal with the side effects. That's it. That's all the plan I have.

2. Brian and I were up in the middle of the night talking last night, and it was so much fun. We were waiting out Asher, who is in the midst of a sleep THING that is potentially miserable for us all, and it wasn't fun trying to decide when to let him cry and when to go to him. But after he fell asleep we stayed awake for another hour, talking about nothing of any consequence. It's the kind of thing you do all the time when you're dating, and then never again once you get married. And in this season of our lives, when time to just hang out is rare, it was a gift to us both to have the time together.

3. Anyone been reading Arwen's posts lately on discipline? I think about her point all the time, how teaching and discipline only belong in the context of love. If I didn't love Asher so much, I couldn't possibly have the authority to discipline him. And when the goal of parenting is to build a relationship, not to control another person, the "how's" begin to answer themselves. I HATE spanking him, so I don't do it unless I earnestly believe that is what is best for him in that moment. In my opinion, this is a good argument against corporal punishment in education. Children have to learn to follow rules and to function in society, but who teaches them, and how, is profoundly important for their future. Also, I think of my role at this stage as one of a teacher more than an enforcer. With a few exceptions, he's mostly learning what the rules are. He's also learning to read (and to believe) me, just as I'm learning to read him.

4. For those who keep up with such things, Asher had his 18-month check-up today. He got the DPT and Hepatitis shots, and it was the first time he's understood what was going on, and it made us both very sad. "Bites!" he said when they injected him. Sad. He's in the 90th percentile for height, 75th for weight, and 95th for head circumference. My boy is almost 3 feet tall at 18 months old. Geez. Anyway, he's a perfectly healthy, developing kid, which is the part that matters.

5. T-21 days. I had an appointment yesterday, and a few things are happening that would suggest labor is imminent, but it's like my doctor says: all that really tells us is that I'm going to have a baby. There is not any way to know when. So I'm doing my best to function as though I'm having a baby in three weeks, so that I don't sit perched, waiting for labor, until I drive myself and everyone around me crazy. Besides, I still have a few loose ends to tie up around the house, and Brian is out of town tonight, so today is really not convenient for me. And Friday we're going to the lake, and next week Mikkee will be in town ... so July 8 is as good a time as any, I guess.

How has your week been?

odds and ends

I have no business blogging when I'm this delirious. Please be kind when reading, because I have no idea what I'm about to write, and that always makes for good television.

1. In the park yesterday I met one of Those Women. Now the truth is that the parents I know put heart and soul into raising their kids, so it's no wonder they (we) have such strong opinions about minutia like juice boxes or pacifiers. I try to keep this in mind when I accidentally stumble into a hot spot with a mom I don't know, because goodness knows I have my own. We all love our kids, we all are doing the best we can, and we're all screwing up in ways we don't even know about yet (though we're certainly going to be told when they get older, don't you think?). Even so, this woman was just ... overbearing, moralizing her children's every move, and dominating every adult conversation in a twenty-yard radius. Also, she kept telling her toddler not to be angry. Really? You really want to teach your child she can't get angry? You don't think she might, I don't know, blow up a building or something when she's 30 if she doesn't learn how to handle anger constructively when she's 2? To each his own, though, right? It's like a friend of mine says all the time, "I'm definitely going to owe her for therapy for THAT when she is older." Yeah, me too.

2. I saw Laura today. For those who know her, all is well, or is as good as can be expected for a little while. But when I left I was a mess. We'll blame hormones (they get blamed for everything else). I know nothing about being sick, really for real SICK, during pregnancy, and I know nothing about bed rest. But I know too well the feeling of wanting more than anything just to stay pregnant, and having absolutely no control over whether or not that will happen. The good news is that her babies are fine. And every day she stays pregnant is a day they can grow and get stronger. In that regard, every day of waiting is a blessing, though I doubt it feels that way to Laura at this moment. Anyway, she is good, but I was a little nutty this afternoon. But that hardly feels like news anymore.

3. The weather this week has been great. The humidity broke (someone forgot to tell Alabama it's May already, but I'm not complaining), and we have spent as much time as possible outside. "Out-ide!" Asher says, pointing to the door and signing, "please." Asher has discovered digging (as you can see from the pictures in the side bar and last post), so we spend a good bit of every day at the sand box in the park. I was thinking today about how much he is changing, and how fast, and how I know myself, I won't remember half of this when he is older. But I hope I remember how much fun this spring has been, how much I love seeing him learn. I hope that's what I will keep from this time.

4. 32 weeks now, and I feel like it's April of my senior year. In April you don't really want to quit school, because that would be stupid. But if there was a way to both quit school and have your diploma in May, you would do it. If there was a way to skip the end of the semester and exams and moving and all that comes in between, and just get to the part where now you have what you've been working for all this time, you would. That's how I feel. But! On Friday I'm picking up Silas' baby bed (hooray!) and on Saturday (I hope) we're painting his room the best shade of baby-but-not-too blue EVER, and when that is over I will be 33 weeks. So, you know. We're getting there.

5. Want to hear something weird? I wake up every night at midnight, 3:30, and 6:30 a.m. I've tried explaining to my body that in about 8 weeks I'm going to have no choice but to follow this pattern, but my body seems intent on being in sync with an infant's, already.

Ok. With any luck I'm going to sleep for a while. Happy Wednesday, everyone.

on apple juice and other stuff

The time at the tone is 5:37 a.m. I woke up at 4:45 craving apple juice. Craving, as in, I cannot stay in this bed one more second, because that's one more second I am not drinking apple juice. I've had two juice boxes since then. Granted, they are mini-juice boxes, so that probably only totals one full glass of juice, but still. I can't remember the last time I've had - much less wanted - juice before this morning.

I tried last night to write a post, but it didn't go anywhere. What has been on my mind lately is Silas' birth. Have you ever met a woman terrified of her second child's birth? Me neither. Maybe I've read too many sad or scary birth stories lately, or maybe I'm just pregnant and emotional (ya think?). But it has been weighing on me, and every time I see my doctor, I get more anxious about it. I really don't know why. According to every possible measure, I am carrying a completely healthy, normal little boy. There is no reason to think anything at all will happen.

But because of my anxiety, I am going to begin to prepare as though I will have another c-section. My plan (at 28 weeks - we'll see how it changes over the next 12) is to schedule a c-section at 40 weeks. If I go into labor on my own before then (as I did with Asher, not that I can use that as a measure of this child, I know), and my doctor is comfortable with a VBAC, we'll do it. But planning a c-section will take the anxiety over the unknown out of the equation. Also, a scheduled c-section is an easier recovery than a c-section after labor, and it allows me time to prepare. I won't be able to lift anything over 20 lbs for 6 weeks, which means I can't be alone with my 25 lb child while I recover. We need to look at Brian's time-off and figure out when we'll need grandparents, that sort of thing.

So, that's the news here. It's probably not pertinent to anyone but me, but for me, it really is.

And here is my confession: I have a hard time praying about anything pregnancy-related. I don't know what to ask for. I believe that God is good and loving toward all He has made; I also know we live in a world where babies die. I have made peace with those two realities, but it leaves me uncertain of how to pray. I can pray for my child, and for the person he will become. But for the time between now and when he is a little person who can eat and breathe apart from my body, I don't have the faith to pray for his health and honestly believe my prayers are effective. But I know that as a believer, I can't remain as anxious as I have been about his birth. I have to trust that God - who is good and loving toward all He has made, including me - will give Brian and me the ability to face whatever is handed to us. Lord willing (and the creek don't rise), that will be the normal stress of bringing home a healthy baby. But even if it's not, God will give us the strength to do whatever we need to. That, I can trust. That is something I can pray in faith.

By the way, Silas liked the apple juice almost as much as I did. Happy Wednesday.

some things you may care about, some things you probably won't.

1. So one of my non-blogging pregnant friends told me water makes a big difference in her energy level. Since she is generally more health-conscience than I am, and since I have not been drinking as much water as I used to, I've decided to take her advice. She drinks 3 liters of water a day. So I bought a water bottle yesterday and was a little disconcerted to realize that after 3 liters of water today (not including glasses of water at lunch and dinner) I did not have to pee more than the average pregnant woman. Um, obviously my body needed some water. In general, my energy comes in spurts, and I am trying to appreciate and use it when it's there, and sit down when it's not (when sitting down is an option). I'm going to stick with the water thing for a while either way, though, just for the general well-being of Silas and me.

2. Another one of my non-blogging friends had a baby this morning. While none of you know her, healthy babies are always news worth sharing. No name yet, but a healthy little boy was born at 5:30 this morning. And she did not have to be induced, to her great pleasure. She was hoping to avoid induction, and this time - her third birth - she did.

3. Someone posted an advertisement on Craig's List giving Brian's cell phone number and promising a free autographed copy of Hannah Montana memorabilia. Was it any of you? If so, that's the best April Fool's joke ever. Hilarious.

4. Last night I had a dream that Asher kept crying just as I was dozing off (which is not outside of the realm of possibility, but fictitious last night, at least). At 2:45 a.m. I woke Brian up telling him to give the baby Tylenol already, so that I could go to sleep. When he tried to appease me and roll over, I sat up and said, "Why are you still in bed? Go!" So, because he is good to me, Brian got up and checked on Asher. The kid was so asleep that when Brian moved him a little, he didn't even squirm. He came back and reported that all was well, but by that time I was already asleep again. Poor Brian. He still has three more months of this, followed by postpartum hormones to look forward to.

5. Some of you said something similar a year ago, but at the time, I couldn't imagine it to be true. But I think the second year of babyhood might be more fun than the first. A year ago I was lamenting sleep and generally way too uptight about the minutia of infant care. But he is learning so much right now - making new associations and learning new words every day - and it is really fun. Plus, I LOVE one nap a day. It's going to be sad to have to stay at home again in the mornings for Silas. If we spend all morning at home, by about 10 am Asher starts saying, "Bye bye?" As in, hello? Isn't it time to go somewhere? It's a fun time in his life and a pretty time of year to do it.

my life is good

It only took me the better part of three years to figure out how to post pictures in the sidebar, but at last I have succeeded. What do I win?

There are very few things in life that are predictable, so I'm always a little surprised at how ordered pregnancy is. At week 13, like clockwork, the symptoms of early pregnancy disappear. And as I am nearing the end of the second trimester, set your very slow watch by it, my second trimester energy is diminishing. I feel very, very pregnant all of a sudden. Not big, so much, but just - I'm suddenly aware that all of my available energy is going into growing and chasing babies. This morning, by the time both Asher and I were showered and fed, the breakfast dishes were done, the diaper bag was packed, and the car was loaded, I was ready for a nap. It was only 8:30 a.m. Knowing that I'm not even big yet, and that it's not even hot out yet, and I already feel this way, makes me want to cry. Then take a nap.

Every pregnant woman I have ever known at some point has said to me, "I am never doing this again." Most of the time they don't mean it. So don't take me too seriously. I love the result. Really, it does no good to ask me how many babies I want to have, because I want as many babies as possible. What you should ask instead, if you want a true estimation of the direction of our family, is, how many c-sections do you want to have? How long do you want to be emotionally unstable? How many miscarriages are you willing to potentially have? How many major life changes do you want to have? That would be a truer measure. Babies are priceless. But all that it takes to have a baby - that's different.

In the meantime, Asher refuses to stop growing up. He's morphing into his own little person, and vacillates between doing the opposite of whatever I ask of him and clinging to my legs. It's all part of developing an identity, I know, and most of the time I have the patience for it, but it makes for some funny moments. My favorite this week was on Saturday morning, when he was trying to pull something from the kitchen counter. This is Not Okay in our house, so I told him no and moved him away from the counter. In response, he bit me. BIT me. Which earned him a trip to his bed, of course. Normally, when he's put in his bed he protests, but this time, there was silence. I walked out of his room and heard, rather than tears, a little voice calling, "Daaa." As in, "Dad, I pissed Mom off, will you come rescue me?" I was so glad I was already out of the room, because there's no way I could have kept a straight face for that. Brian responded, "When you bite your mom, you're on your own kid."

So, my life is good. I keep chanting that phrase because it's the truth. I can forget it in the moment, but a frustrating or exhausting moment is not the same as discontentment. My life is good. My life is good.

Happy Monday, everyone.