Shower time

It is raining today, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Tomorrow is my baby shower. I’m excited. Excited to see everyone. Excited to get some gear for the tadpole, so I don’t feel so unprepared. Excited to get my hair cut (not technically part of the shower, but I figured I’d treat myself to one last cut while I have the time.) Excited for silly games and yummy food.

Normally I’d be totally stressed about having 15 people coming to my home. I’d be cleaning for days and getting organized. But, you know what? I’m too darn tired to be stressed. We did finish unpacking which was a a major feat in itself. But I haven’t cleaned a thing. My mom and sister are coming tomorrow morning and I’m sure they’ll help out. But, if there’s dust, there’s dust. Too bad. I’m going to have to accept this reality.

One of the things I’m learning with this pregnancy is hard it is to ask for help. I like to do things myself. Asking someone to help me clean my bathroom makes me feel like a failure on some level. I want to do it all and be the best and yada yada. It’s in my nature. Sitting back and letting someone else do things is not. I know I’m lucky to have lots of people willing to help me and should just sit back and be grateful for it. What can I say? I’m trying.

The Next 10 Days

In the next 10 days…

– I’ll have my baby shower!

– I’ll be turning 30!

– I’ll be closing on the sale of our apartment!

Dear Life, Is there anything else you’d like me to cram in? Perhaps I should convert religions or start a business, too?

It’s a lot to handle (plus super hectic crazy BIG things going on at work). But, it’s all good stuff, so I’m grateful.

Step away from the forceps

Forceps Last night’s childbirth class covered all the good stuff – induction, c-sections, vacuums, and pitocin. But none seems scarier than the dreaded FORCEPS!

I’m trying to be open to all possibilities, but the practice of grabbing the babies head with big metal tongs … Nope. Not gonna happen. I will push for as many hours as it takes, but I do not want the forceps near me.

I suppose we all have our hang-ups. One girl in my class is continually asking about tearing. It’s obviously her big fear. Before last night my biggest fear was going into labor on Marathon Sunday and not being able to make it through the mass of runners to the hospital. Now I can displace that fear with something more tangible — big metal archaic instruments.

Countdown – Check-in time

Ready or not…

Lions and tigers and ruffles, oh my!

Our nursery is looking pretty sparse. Well, really sparse. There is a crib. And a changing table. But no curtains, sheets, bedding, rug, etc. All the things that might give it some personality. I just can’t bring myself to buy any of the bedding that I see for a variety of reasons…

… Animal prints. If you’re going gender neutral on bedding, the options seem to be frogs, bees, or animals you might encounter on an African safari. It’s not that I have anything against wildebeasts in particular, but I’m all for some design restraint. The animals do not need to be plastered on the sheets, bumper, blanket, curtains, diaper organizer, AND night light. How about one central piece with the animals with the coordinating pieces in a nice, complementary color or pattern? Obviously, restraint is not the prevailing philosophy in baby bedding.

…Who puked ruffles everywhere? After it became apparent that I was not an animal person, I started looked at patterns. Stripes, gingham, toile – all more subtle designs in theory. But, even these harmless patterns get the over-the-top treatment. Do the designers sit in a room and decide that a baby couldn’t possibly sleep in a nice, neutral bed — Let’s add some ruffles… Ruffles all around – Nothing is safe, not even the mobile. Hey designers – I’m pretty sure my womb is not filled with ruffles and the baby seems pretty happy in there.

What’s a girl to do? Any suggestions for bedding for us?

Pumpkin Fever

I had my bi-weekly checkup this morning at the doctor. I lost a pound!* Whoo hoo. No lecture on my weight. Everything is looking on track. <YAY>

So, of course, I wanted to reward myself after I found out the good news. I went to Starbucks to get a pumpkin spice latte, which is like my very favoritest thing in the world right now. And they told me they only had coffee and tea – no fancy drinks! No espresso. No cappucino. No latte. Who ever heard of a Starbucks that can’t make a latte? They might as well just close their doors for the day because nobody goes to Starbucks for some drip coffee. <BOO><BOO> Now I NEED my PSL fix, so I’m going to have to go for a walk and try another store…That’s the good thing about being a slave to an evil corporation that has taken over the world – it’s easy to find another location.

* I didn’t eat any differently these past 2 weeks. So, no worries – I am NOT dieting.

Karmic Drugs

Sounds trippy right? Let me explain.

First, the karma part… Ever since my childbirth class on Monday night I’ve been meaning to post on the topic of epidurals – to have or not to have. I knew I wanted to say something about the decision ahead of me and my thoughts on it, but I haven’t been able to quite gather these feelings up into a few neat paragraphs.

Then today as I’m eating my lunch and browsing blogs, I see that Sheri who is due a few days before me has just posted on this very topic. And she’s already had one baby, which makes her an expert in my mind. Yet, she has many of the same concerns and question that I have, which is totally reassuring in a way. Oh, and we saw the same episode of Birth Story where the mom wouldn’t let her teenage daughter get an epidural so she wouldn’t make the same mistake again (ie get pregnant), so that totally completes the karmic loop.

So, epidurals… Science has created this neat drug to make some of the pain of childbirth go away. For some women, I know that it’s a no brainer to GET THE DRUGS. After all, why go through the pain if you don’t have to – right? That totally makes sense to me. And part of me believes that. But, the other side of my neurotic brain says things like:

Do I really want to be numb from my boobs to my knees for this experience? Weren’t our bodies made for this? Aren’t I missing out on some primal part of the miracle of birth if I dull my sensations?

I realize that part of pregnancy and especially childbirth is giving up some control. I cannot control how my birthing experience will turn out. I can put things in place to try and help it go a certain way, but at the end of the day, it’s unpredictable and I have to be willing to accept that. I could decide later today that I definitely want an epidural and they could tell me that I can’t have one. Or they could give me one and it might not work.

So, I choose not to decide right now. I will try to approach labor with an open mind and no ego. I want to feel the contractions. I want to see what it’s all about. But, if it gets to be too much, I will consider using the epidural. I realize that this approach probably means I will GET THE DRUGS. I think that most women who have a natural childbirth are either a) very, very commited to the idea of a natural childbirth or b) want the drugs, but can’t have them for some reason. I’m guessing that my wishy-washy constitution means I will cave to the drugs. But, we’ll all just have to wait and see.

The Magic of Date Night

Moving is stressful. Preparing for a baby is stressful. Work is stressful. All this stress does not a happy marriage equal. We had a toxic atmosphere in our home for the past few weeks. Little innocuous questions like "What do you want for dinner?" could and did quickly turn into verbal jousts. Then try assembling a crib that comes with 359 assorted parts* and directions written by a monkey and see how well you get along. Throw in some pregnancy hormones that make one person act totally irrationally at times and, well…

It’s been rough. Probably the roughest patch we’ve had in our relationship so far. The rational side of me could step away and realize what we were doing – how we were taking our stress out on each other. Working against each other instead of together. But, somehow even with this knowledge, I was too far entrenched and I couldn’t change my behavior.

Saturday night was the turning point for us. We decided to get dressed up (well, at least showered) and treat ourselves to a nice dinner. A date night.

Over the course of french onion soup <slurp>, steak frites <mmm mmm>, and a chocolate hazelnut crepe <may i lick the plate?>, we reconnected. The bad feelings drifted away and we talked. And laughed. And got back to the heart of why we make such good companions. Not to sound too corny, but it was kind of like magic. Things clicked back into place. Taking that time for ourselves and letting go of the other stresses in our lives put things back on track and realigned our relationship.

Sunday wasn’t exactly a day of leisure for us — we finished moving out of our old apartment and cleaned it, pulled weeds in our garden, finished unpacking, AND watched the Jets lose — but we got along again. There were the minor disagreements of course, but we were a team again. And it felt really damn good.

* We did end up using all those pieces after 5 or so hours of labor. That’s how much mommy and daddy love you, baby.

Crime & Punishment

My crime:
The other night I needed a lamp. I couldn’t read in the living room — It was too dark. The lamp was buried in a box under lots of other boxes that I knew I shouldn’t lift. But I could see the lamp. I was frustrated. I wanted to move the stupid boxes. But I knew I shouldn’t. So I got mad. And I grabbed the lamp and pulled as hard as I could. It popped out. As it did, the cord whipped through the air and the plug struck my glasses. Hard. It took a big old dinger out of my lens. Since then I’ve been walking around with a white line through everything in my vision.

My punishment:
$250 to replace my lenses. And I have to walk around for 5 days wearing my old glasses. With my old prescription. So now everything is blurry. Blurry vision combined with my natural lack of grace and my maternal balance issues could prove to be lethal. I should probably be placed in a padded room until Wednesday.

Sleepy Blogging (now with photos!)

I’m sooooo tired. Work doesn’t seem to care that I’m very pregnant and tired. Whine, whine. Way too tired to write, so I thought I’d do a photo essay thingy for you tonight.

THINGS I LOVE: