Boo Boo had a first grade project in where she was asked, amongst other questions, to list 3 facts about herself. She chose that she was born in Seattle, WA, that her birthday is on Christmas Eve and after that she was stuck for a third fascinating factoid. I suggested that she add how she was going to be a big sister, and she shook her head no.
“The other kids will just talk about the boob thing.”
“The WHAT?” I said
“The boob thing…..you know….they always talk about the boob thing. It’s gross.”
She was horrified to learn recently that she had been breastfed. She calls it “the boob thing” with her eyes averted and her arms crossed.
I almost opted out of doing “the boob thing” this time though. For purely selfish reasons, I’m worried about the longevity of my ta-ta’s. You see God preformed a small miracle for me the last time I breastfed. Usually a year of "the boob thing" will effectively wipe out your hooties. I remember when my breasts were engorged in those first weeks after delivery and I looked down to see that one boob was the size of my head. Each pore so stretched and enlarged that it looked like the surface of an orange peel, and I thought “Oh no, they’ll never be the same……” And they were never the same....they were BETTER!
I don’t know how that happened. After weaning they dried up to look like a couple of fried eggs. We’re talking National Geographic and I was devastated! But then, within six months time, they literally bounced back and were better than before. I couldn’t have wanted for better looking hooties. Some one had sprinkled the magic booby dust on them. A for real deal modern day miracle.
All that said, it would be completely self-serving of me to deny this next baby the countless and undeniable benefits of breast milk just because I want to keep a hot looking rack……but you best believe I considered it.
And I’d like to go on record and address those who cringe a little at “the boob thing”. Certainly no other experience in my life has quite so reminded me that I am a mammal, but it is indeed a sweet and natural thing. It is not sexual or pleasurable in anyway, whatsoever (it actually hurts like a son of a bitch) and I don’t have enough time or energy to list the immeasurable benefits of breastfeeding here, so just quit being weird about it. I don’t advocate mom’s whipping out the teet in crowded restaurants but other than that….. let’s give “the boob thing” a break already.
The boob thing is a GOOD thing! But good luck trying to tell Boo Boo that.
OH, as for her third fact? She wrote "I have the best mom".
(And I have the best kiddo!)
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Busy Baby Bee
My baby widget (the spinny baby graphic to your right) is upside down. How appropriate since I think the real baby has flipped as well. I felt her hiccups in the lower half of my abdomen yesterday and it now feels like I’m being punched in the bladder, rather than kicked. You’d think the punching would be better than the kicking but you would be wrong.
It’s recommended that I keep track of fetal movements at this stage. 10 movements in and hour is a good sign that all is well in there. My baby moves 10 times in 10 minutes. Not every single hour but ….this baby is very busy!
I try to imagine how she must be keeping herself entertained. All the super important things she has to do in there. Tying the umbilical cord in knots, then untying them. Random spells of River Dancing. Searching for new places that she has yet to push, kick or sock me in. Scratching off the days on the uterine wall.
She likes to get up to all this ruckus most rigorously between 12 AM and 3 AM so I’m anticipating a lot of late nights with the newest little pumpkin face. And oh, I can’t wait to see that face!
It’s recommended that I keep track of fetal movements at this stage. 10 movements in and hour is a good sign that all is well in there. My baby moves 10 times in 10 minutes. Not every single hour but ….this baby is very busy!
I try to imagine how she must be keeping herself entertained. All the super important things she has to do in there. Tying the umbilical cord in knots, then untying them. Random spells of River Dancing. Searching for new places that she has yet to push, kick or sock me in. Scratching off the days on the uterine wall.
She likes to get up to all this ruckus most rigorously between 12 AM and 3 AM so I’m anticipating a lot of late nights with the newest little pumpkin face. And oh, I can’t wait to see that face!
Sunday, October 26, 2008
One Baby Shower in Pink
Do you measure the success of your baby shower in the amount of goods you rake in, the amount of guests that attend or the amount of compliments you receive? Because I wasn’t looking for tons of gifts, I don’t have many girlfriends down here and I sure wasn’t expecting to be showered with praise but as we sat around Annixa’s kitchen table nibbling on red velvet cake (courtesy of the lovely Miss Lauren) these ladies dubbed me radiant and debated over which movie star I looked like.
Those are some good friends!
Special thanks belong to Miss Annixa (who doesn’t even read this) for being yesterday’s hostess and being such a great friend to me during the last leg of my pregnancy. Such a great friend that I have gone so far as to forgive her for drinking the Kool-Aid and becoming a Fox News fed Republican. She’s that great a friend, ha-ha! Truly she is, and she made sure the whole affair was superb.
My favorite photo came late in the afternoon when Baby Daddy crashed the shower and posed with me. One shower reveler, who’d never met him before, watched us banter for awhile and beam at each other and told me privately what a beautiful thing we have, B.D. and I.
I couldn’t agree more.
Those are some good friends!
Special thanks belong to Miss Annixa (who doesn’t even read this) for being yesterday’s hostess and being such a great friend to me during the last leg of my pregnancy. Such a great friend that I have gone so far as to forgive her for drinking the Kool-Aid and becoming a Fox News fed Republican. She’s that great a friend, ha-ha! Truly she is, and she made sure the whole affair was superb.
My favorite photo came late in the afternoon when Baby Daddy crashed the shower and posed with me. One shower reveler, who’d never met him before, watched us banter for awhile and beam at each other and told me privately what a beautiful thing we have, B.D. and I.
I couldn’t agree more.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Next Week?
“Next week?” asked the sweet little Asian lady doing my pedicure yesterday.
“I’m sorry?” I said, indicating I didn’t understand her meaning.
She pointed at the enormous growth under my shirt and repeated herself.
“Next week?”
“Oh!” I said “Oh no. Um, next month….or so.”
I’m not leaving the house anymore!
“I’m sorry?” I said, indicating I didn’t understand her meaning.
She pointed at the enormous growth under my shirt and repeated herself.
“Next week?”
“Oh!” I said “Oh no. Um, next month….or so.”
I’m not leaving the house anymore!
Friday, October 17, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Week 32: Itchy & Scratchy
Officially 8 months along now! And the beach ball I swallowed itches more and more every day. Do you know what that means? It means my skin is stretching. You know what happens when your skin stretches to proportions that accommodate a small planet? Well, depending upon the elasticity of one’s skin, or lack thereof, it could mean stretch marks. The dreaded stretch marks.
I got off pretty easy last time. Three or four lines on each hip that faded fairly quickly. No grooves, gouges or roadmaps on my stomach. But holy cannoli am I BIGGER with this baby. My giant hubby insists this is because I’m carrying his equally giant dinosaur sized baby. Maybe. Whatever the reason I gained all the weight I was supposed to by month 6.
Whoops.
This happened to me last time too. You’re medically advised to gain no more than 30 pounds. That 30 pounds usually melts off very quickly after delivery. I gained approx. 60. I went from 135 lbs (which I already thought was terribly fat at 24 yrs old…….such a moron) to 196……I stopped looking at the scale at 196, the week I delivered.
I promise you that’s where I’m headed again. I don’t think I’ll ever tip the scales over the ominous 200 mark but…..never, ever, ever say never-never.
The interesting thing is my doctor has said nothing on the subject of my weight gain. My former OB had made me feel lousy for it. “You can’t gain 10 lbs a month” she’d said (and I’d thought “Oh you wanna bet?”) and even though I did just that I thankfully returned to my original size….eventually. But I wonder if this doctor, this time around, doesn’t bother admonishing me because of my age. Does he know something that I don’t? Does he assume my body is now a lost cause?
I should ask him, but I’m too chicken! Because this is the part where my youth screams “WAIT……I’m too young to die!”
I got off pretty easy last time. Three or four lines on each hip that faded fairly quickly. No grooves, gouges or roadmaps on my stomach. But holy cannoli am I BIGGER with this baby. My giant hubby insists this is because I’m carrying his equally giant dinosaur sized baby. Maybe. Whatever the reason I gained all the weight I was supposed to by month 6.
Whoops.
This happened to me last time too. You’re medically advised to gain no more than 30 pounds. That 30 pounds usually melts off very quickly after delivery. I gained approx. 60. I went from 135 lbs (which I already thought was terribly fat at 24 yrs old…….such a moron) to 196……I stopped looking at the scale at 196, the week I delivered.
I promise you that’s where I’m headed again. I don’t think I’ll ever tip the scales over the ominous 200 mark but…..never, ever, ever say never-never.
The interesting thing is my doctor has said nothing on the subject of my weight gain. My former OB had made me feel lousy for it. “You can’t gain 10 lbs a month” she’d said (and I’d thought “Oh you wanna bet?”) and even though I did just that I thankfully returned to my original size….eventually. But I wonder if this doctor, this time around, doesn’t bother admonishing me because of my age. Does he know something that I don’t? Does he assume my body is now a lost cause?
I should ask him, but I’m too chicken! Because this is the part where my youth screams “WAIT……I’m too young to die!”
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Ye Olde Pro
Besides sometimes seeming (and feeling) like an old vet at all this pregnant mommy stuff it surprised me just how much I’d forgotten about the days leading up to and following the big event. Then I remembered I was half comatose in my 9th month and out of my freaking mind in sleep deprived delirium the first two weeks of my daughter’s life….so it’s no small wonder a few details have escaped me.
I forgot, for example, that B.D. leaves the OR with the baby while they sew me up. I forgot that he is to stay by baby’s side that entire first day because I won’t be competent enough to be left alone with her (they’ll have me drugged on something close to morphine). I forgot that he has to spend his nights on a crappy cot next to my hospital bed. I forgot if or when I get to shower…..or how I’m supposed to even do that as a stapled together, crippled mess. I forgot about the birth certificate, social security card and first photos, all done right there in the hospital while I’m damn near out of it.
I’ve been taking a refresher course by way of two TV shows on TLC, A Baby Story and Bringing Home Baby. With A Baby Story I find that I cry every time they have the baby……even though I KNOW they’re going to have the baby. It’s the whole point of the show. There’s never an episode where they DON’T have the baby. It’s called A BABY STORY!…..and still, I tear up every single time the baby is born. I could be across the house in the laundry room, have the television on just for noise, be passing by the living room on my way out the front door, hear the “waaaahhhh” of the baby being born and BAM…..salty tear city.
Because I’m the silly hormone monster.
Bringing Home Baby serves to remind me of the reality of it all. It’s a show that documents the parent’s first 36 hours home with a newborn. Their haggard faces following the first night home says it all. We’re going to be fortunate enough to have my mom and mother-in law there to help entertain and care for Boo Boo (formerly known as Doo Doo). I count myself especially blessed because my mom isn’t the naggy know-it-all type and my mother-in-law isn’t the disapproving dictator type. They’re both terrifically lovely AND…. get this…..they get along!
Point is, we won’t be left wanting for helping hands and a great deal of it will come back to me, like some foggy dream I once had. And what B.D. doesn’t know I can help him with. But I sometimes wish I wasn’t so experienced. It would have been nice to have had my first child with him. Not that I’d give up my Boo Boo for love or ridiculous amounts of money, but how nice if he’d been there for her birth. Both of us being brand new at this thing called baby, rather than me appearing to be an old hand at the prego trade.
But oh well. Nothing is ever ideal, at least our little family comes awfully close.
I forgot, for example, that B.D. leaves the OR with the baby while they sew me up. I forgot that he is to stay by baby’s side that entire first day because I won’t be competent enough to be left alone with her (they’ll have me drugged on something close to morphine). I forgot that he has to spend his nights on a crappy cot next to my hospital bed. I forgot if or when I get to shower…..or how I’m supposed to even do that as a stapled together, crippled mess. I forgot about the birth certificate, social security card and first photos, all done right there in the hospital while I’m damn near out of it.
I’ve been taking a refresher course by way of two TV shows on TLC, A Baby Story and Bringing Home Baby. With A Baby Story I find that I cry every time they have the baby……even though I KNOW they’re going to have the baby. It’s the whole point of the show. There’s never an episode where they DON’T have the baby. It’s called A BABY STORY!…..and still, I tear up every single time the baby is born. I could be across the house in the laundry room, have the television on just for noise, be passing by the living room on my way out the front door, hear the “waaaahhhh” of the baby being born and BAM…..salty tear city.
Because I’m the silly hormone monster.
Bringing Home Baby serves to remind me of the reality of it all. It’s a show that documents the parent’s first 36 hours home with a newborn. Their haggard faces following the first night home says it all. We’re going to be fortunate enough to have my mom and mother-in law there to help entertain and care for Boo Boo (formerly known as Doo Doo). I count myself especially blessed because my mom isn’t the naggy know-it-all type and my mother-in-law isn’t the disapproving dictator type. They’re both terrifically lovely AND…. get this…..they get along!
Point is, we won’t be left wanting for helping hands and a great deal of it will come back to me, like some foggy dream I once had. And what B.D. doesn’t know I can help him with. But I sometimes wish I wasn’t so experienced. It would have been nice to have had my first child with him. Not that I’d give up my Boo Boo for love or ridiculous amounts of money, but how nice if he’d been there for her birth. Both of us being brand new at this thing called baby, rather than me appearing to be an old hand at the prego trade.
But oh well. Nothing is ever ideal, at least our little family comes awfully close.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Get in ma' belly!
Every few days some one asks me "Where are your belly pictures? I want to see your belly!"
The answer is that I don't really have any yet. But my daughter took this way flattering one last night....
...which accurately depicts how I plan to spend most my time from here until December.
The answer is that I don't really have any yet. But my daughter took this way flattering one last night....
...which accurately depicts how I plan to spend most my time from here until December.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Hotel Baby
We took our hospital tour last weekend. Our tour nurse was warm and welcoming. This way to the OR, this way to your room, be sure to take advantage of our continental breakfast and enjoy your stay.
This hospital isn’t as nice as the one I delivered my first kiddo in but it is WAY better than what had been described to me by the locals. I was told to expect drab, extremely dated décor and to have to share a room with another laboring/recovering mother. To my great joy they’ve remodeled in the last few years and ladies are now treated to their own space. THANK GOD!
Our tour led us to the nursery. As is the custom in modern times most babies room in with their moms so there weren’t many little ones to ogle. One small newborn lay under the UV lights of what looked like a mini tanning bed in order to treat it’s jaundice. Another larger baby was wriggling under the care of a nurse while a young woman watched enrapt outside the nursery door window. At that moment our tour guide asked if we knew the gender of our child and when I answered that it was a girl the young woman at the nursery window turned toward us, pointed at the wriggling infant (the one not getting a tan), grinned at us and said “Yeah, he was supposed to be a girl too.”
At this the darling hubby’s eyebrows shot upward and his eyes positively twinkled with the possibility. Earlier in the tour, outside the doors of the operating room, the nurse had explained to me that I could change my mind about having my tubes tied at the very last second, if that’s what I wanted. The doctor will essentially ask me, last minute, if I’m sure. Baby Daddy joked that he’d take that opportunity to knock me unconscious and tell the doc that I’d changed my mind.
A joke…..except that he’s kind of serious. I’m not sure he’s 100% comfortable with the idea of never having a son. Even though I’ve made all the compelling arguments against us having 80 kids…..or even just 3. Even though he has been surrounded by girls his whole life and really ought to be used to it by now. Inundated with them almost. From several great aunts in his early years, to a close relationship with his mother and sister, maternal aunties, a high majority of female friends including his best friend...…..OF COURSE his children will be girls too! But of course.
But I guess there is that who-knows-what percent chance that we’ll walk out of our stay at Hotel Baby with an unexpected son. And that wouldn’t be terrible. That wouldn’t be terrible at all. He'd better look good in pink though.
This hospital isn’t as nice as the one I delivered my first kiddo in but it is WAY better than what had been described to me by the locals. I was told to expect drab, extremely dated décor and to have to share a room with another laboring/recovering mother. To my great joy they’ve remodeled in the last few years and ladies are now treated to their own space. THANK GOD!
Our tour led us to the nursery. As is the custom in modern times most babies room in with their moms so there weren’t many little ones to ogle. One small newborn lay under the UV lights of what looked like a mini tanning bed in order to treat it’s jaundice. Another larger baby was wriggling under the care of a nurse while a young woman watched enrapt outside the nursery door window. At that moment our tour guide asked if we knew the gender of our child and when I answered that it was a girl the young woman at the nursery window turned toward us, pointed at the wriggling infant (the one not getting a tan), grinned at us and said “Yeah, he was supposed to be a girl too.”
At this the darling hubby’s eyebrows shot upward and his eyes positively twinkled with the possibility. Earlier in the tour, outside the doors of the operating room, the nurse had explained to me that I could change my mind about having my tubes tied at the very last second, if that’s what I wanted. The doctor will essentially ask me, last minute, if I’m sure. Baby Daddy joked that he’d take that opportunity to knock me unconscious and tell the doc that I’d changed my mind.
A joke…..except that he’s kind of serious. I’m not sure he’s 100% comfortable with the idea of never having a son. Even though I’ve made all the compelling arguments against us having 80 kids…..or even just 3. Even though he has been surrounded by girls his whole life and really ought to be used to it by now. Inundated with them almost. From several great aunts in his early years, to a close relationship with his mother and sister, maternal aunties, a high majority of female friends including his best friend...…..OF COURSE his children will be girls too! But of course.
But I guess there is that who-knows-what percent chance that we’ll walk out of our stay at Hotel Baby with an unexpected son. And that wouldn’t be terrible. That wouldn’t be terrible at all. He'd better look good in pink though.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Eeek!
Oooookay, I’m scheduled for surgery. Eeek!
I’ll be having a c-section two days before my due date. That ups the chances that I might go into labor before the set date. Eeek!
I don’t know what to do in labor. I don’t know what labor IS. I didn’t have labor before. I don’t WANT labor now! Eeek!
In any event, I get to meet my baby soon.
EEEEEK!
(That's a happy "eeek")
I’ll be having a c-section two days before my due date. That ups the chances that I might go into labor before the set date. Eeek!
I don’t know what to do in labor. I don’t know what labor IS. I didn’t have labor before. I don’t WANT labor now! Eeek!
In any event, I get to meet my baby soon.
EEEEEK!
(That's a happy "eeek")
Let Ye Without Sin....or Sense
My regular wandering through the internet brought me to one woman poo-pooing other women for choosing to be induced or opting for c-sections to “fit their schedules”. I was compelled to ask her if she was aware of just how many women used to die in childbirth? If she knew that c-sections are statistically safer?
And I reminded her that maybe mothers make the decisions they do with the health and safety of their unborn child in mind, rather than as a matter of convenience.
I already abhor overly judgmental people (they're usually the world’s largest hypocrites) and unfortunately I’ve often times found no greater concentration of them than in the land of motherhood. I’ve actually sat across the table from a woman going on and on about someone else’s child using a pacifier while their own child sat next to them GNAWING THE WOOD OFF THE TABLE!
It’s just amazing to me.
And I reminded her that maybe mothers make the decisions they do with the health and safety of their unborn child in mind, rather than as a matter of convenience.
I already abhor overly judgmental people (they're usually the world’s largest hypocrites) and unfortunately I’ve often times found no greater concentration of them than in the land of motherhood. I’ve actually sat across the table from a woman going on and on about someone else’s child using a pacifier while their own child sat next to them GNAWING THE WOOD OFF THE TABLE!
It’s just amazing to me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
