This is it - probably the last time I will be posting as a mommy to just one child. Tomorrow (Friday) is my scheduled c-section, and unless something crazy comes up by tomorrow afternoon I will finally meet my new little baby.
I'm excited and nervous.
Yesterday I went in for an information session at the hospital. The meeting was incredible. It was a "pre-op" appointment, and since I've never had surgery, except for minor thumb surgery (!) I have no idea if this is routine or not. But ... it went really well. I had a zillion questions answered and I found out what to expect. I had the full surgery explained to me, and the nurse who I met with really put my mind at ease.
She also reassured me, like so many people have, that there is no reason that some of the stuff I experienced with Doodle (lack of bonding, ppd, etc) will happen again. We talked about all the resources available. It really put my mind at ease.
I fully expect to be in pain from the c-section, but I'm pretty confident I can handle it.
So now we do the last minute preparations. We finally finished decorating the baby's room. I bought a beautiful chandelier and Phat Daddy set it up. I love it! I've done laundry, and I have to make a few changes to all of the stuff I have packed. And I'm spending the day chilling. I'm going to read and watch tv and maybe doing a little cleaning.
I think I'm going to go to the mall and get a few little gifts for Doodle because he's told me numerous times he'll miss me. I'm thinking I'll get him a little present for each night I'm away. And, I know he'll be fine. I think I'm more worried about him than I am about me!
I probably won't be posting here for a few days. If you came here from my other blog, I've unlocked it for awhile (I took some stuff off it) and I'll be posting pictures there. So, check back over there if you are interested. I don't think anything will be posted till Saturday or Sunday though.
So wish me luck for a few things.
- That this baby will be healthy (Doodle got rushed to the nursery)
- That we will bond, and if we don't that I know enough to tell someone or that someone around me picks up on it and does something
- That Doodle is okay with the big adjustment. Yes, I know it will be hard
- That the surgery goes well
- And, of course, that this time I get a baby who sleeps. (a girl can dream, you know!!!)
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Only Doodle!
Yesterday afternoon Doodle and I went to meet his new doctor. I have been on the hunt for a local doctor for our new baby, and since Doodle's doctor is the same as mine, and she's in Toronto, I decided that both children should have a doctor in our home town.
The purpose of yesterday's visit was a "meet and greet".
I've never done this before. And, I thought it would be such a good mommy move to let my son meet his new doctor.
Ha.
From the moment we arrived Doodle was in full Doodle form. He was thrilled to be there, and had about a million questions about doctors, his body and everything else you could imagine. Part of the excitement was that I had picked him up directly after nap at daycare, so he was full of energy!
So, we filled out a million forms and then they brought us to the examining room.
Doodle wanted to look at everything.
He's always been fascinated by doctor's tools, but since he's been extra interested in the human body this room was fascinating to him. He wanted to know what every.single. tool did. And, it's not like I know. I mean, I could figure out some stuff, but other stuff ... who knows.
Suddenly he climbed under the examining table and I have no idea how he did it, but he managed to make the foot part of the table LAND ON HIS EYE.
The blow knocked him over and he landed backward on his head grabbing his eye.
And, the shriek. I'm not sure if it was from pain or shock or both but he was in my lap in about 2 seconds, crying hysterically.
Once I calmed him down a bit I took a look at his eye. The poor kid's eye was cut, red and swollen. And, he was a little afraid that he was in trouble for breaking the table.
Just as he was calming down in walked the doctor.
There wasn't that much she could really say. She glanced at her sheets and then confirmed that we were only here for a meet and greet.
Anyway ...
It went just fine. Doodle was subdued thanks to the injury, and the doctor kindly looked at his eye and declared it a good match for the giant bruise on his forehead. (apparently she has dealt with many 4 year old boys)
I think I'm the only parent who brings her child to the doctor completely healthy and leaves with her child sporting a black eye.
I think 4 is going to be a very interesting year!
The purpose of yesterday's visit was a "meet and greet".
I've never done this before. And, I thought it would be such a good mommy move to let my son meet his new doctor.
Ha.
From the moment we arrived Doodle was in full Doodle form. He was thrilled to be there, and had about a million questions about doctors, his body and everything else you could imagine. Part of the excitement was that I had picked him up directly after nap at daycare, so he was full of energy!
So, we filled out a million forms and then they brought us to the examining room.
Doodle wanted to look at everything.
He's always been fascinated by doctor's tools, but since he's been extra interested in the human body this room was fascinating to him. He wanted to know what every.single. tool did. And, it's not like I know. I mean, I could figure out some stuff, but other stuff ... who knows.
Suddenly he climbed under the examining table and I have no idea how he did it, but he managed to make the foot part of the table LAND ON HIS EYE.
The blow knocked him over and he landed backward on his head grabbing his eye.
And, the shriek. I'm not sure if it was from pain or shock or both but he was in my lap in about 2 seconds, crying hysterically.
Once I calmed him down a bit I took a look at his eye. The poor kid's eye was cut, red and swollen. And, he was a little afraid that he was in trouble for breaking the table.
Just as he was calming down in walked the doctor.
There wasn't that much she could really say. She glanced at her sheets and then confirmed that we were only here for a meet and greet.
Anyway ...
It went just fine. Doodle was subdued thanks to the injury, and the doctor kindly looked at his eye and declared it a good match for the giant bruise on his forehead. (apparently she has dealt with many 4 year old boys)
I think I'm the only parent who brings her child to the doctor completely healthy and leaves with her child sporting a black eye.
I think 4 is going to be a very interesting year!
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
My Kid Cracks Me Up
It's probably no secret that I'm not the world's best driver.
Yesterday after dropping Phat Daddy off at work, I decided to take Doodle to Tim Hortons (or, as he calls it "timmortons").
The Tim's we go to has a very popular drive thru since there are tons of offices in the area, and Doodle loves nothing more than to sit in the window next to the drive thru and wave to all of the people in line.
So, I have to park.
Wisely I tried to back into a spot. I did not see the HUGE pile of snow sitting behind my van. And I backed right back into the huge pile of hard snow.
No biggie except that it was LOUD and I'm sure all 50 cars in the drive thru saw me. So, Doodle says "what was that?"
I calmly said "mommy just crunched some snow"
And, with a HUGE grin on his face Doodle said "and that's what we call Mommy's excellent driving skills!"
I almost died laughing. The child is right.
I do things like that all the time. I've never been in a car accident, but we do have several scratches on our car from me missing but just a bit.
Of course, the humour didn't stop when we got into Tim Horton's.
I made the mistake of telling Doodle that people are grumpy at Tim Horton's because they haven't had their coffee - just like me before I've had coffee. I said this in explanation of why he had to sit quietly in his seat.
Anyway ...
As we sitting waving at the cars he decided that anyone who didn't wave "hadn't had his coffee yet." He was probably pretty correct. It got to the point where he'd say "oh! He needs a coffee. Oh! she's already had her coffee."
As we're walking out of the place a man very grumpily stomped into the doors and almost knocked Doodle over. What does Doodle say? "Hey man. You're grumpy. I think you haven't had your coffee yet."
Thankfully the man started to laugh.
And all this before 9am!
Yesterday after dropping Phat Daddy off at work, I decided to take Doodle to Tim Hortons (or, as he calls it "timmortons").
The Tim's we go to has a very popular drive thru since there are tons of offices in the area, and Doodle loves nothing more than to sit in the window next to the drive thru and wave to all of the people in line.
So, I have to park.
Wisely I tried to back into a spot. I did not see the HUGE pile of snow sitting behind my van. And I backed right back into the huge pile of hard snow.
No biggie except that it was LOUD and I'm sure all 50 cars in the drive thru saw me. So, Doodle says "what was that?"
I calmly said "mommy just crunched some snow"
And, with a HUGE grin on his face Doodle said "and that's what we call Mommy's excellent driving skills!"
I almost died laughing. The child is right.
I do things like that all the time. I've never been in a car accident, but we do have several scratches on our car from me missing but just a bit.
Of course, the humour didn't stop when we got into Tim Horton's.
I made the mistake of telling Doodle that people are grumpy at Tim Horton's because they haven't had their coffee - just like me before I've had coffee. I said this in explanation of why he had to sit quietly in his seat.
Anyway ...
As we sitting waving at the cars he decided that anyone who didn't wave "hadn't had his coffee yet." He was probably pretty correct. It got to the point where he'd say "oh! He needs a coffee. Oh! she's already had her coffee."
As we're walking out of the place a man very grumpily stomped into the doors and almost knocked Doodle over. What does Doodle say? "Hey man. You're grumpy. I think you haven't had your coffee yet."
Thankfully the man started to laugh.
And all this before 9am!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Easter, Leg Art & A Sleepy Boy!
Happy Easter!
We had plans to do stuff like go to church and do something Eastery today, but the combo of a tired, crampy me, an almost 4 year old who didn't want to get up and a tired husband led us to stay home and enjoy some family time together.
So, Easter this year has been a little bit low key.
The Easter Bunny did arrive at our house though. Since I had an uncharacteristically late night last night and stayed up watching a movie with Phat Daddy (10 pm - woo hoo!), the Easter Bunny did not come at night. Rather, he came after lunch when I was "napping" and Phat Daddy and Doodle were out for a walk.
It was the cutest thing because as soon as Doodle walked through the door he shouted "Goodness Gwacious - the Easter Bunny was here."
Too cute.
It's amaizng to me because 4 Easters ago we had just brought Doodle home from the hospital - a teeny tiny bundle who was too small for even our smallest sleepers. Today we were sitting on the couch discussing how next Sunday there would be 4 people in our family - not 3. How weird is that?
Doodle has been very productive today. In addition to watching FAR too much Playhouse Disney, eating way too much chocolate (counterbalanced by the fact that he wanted vegetables for breakfast and dinner) and driving the cat to near insanity, he decided to use my legs as the latest canvas for his art work. He also decorated my belly, but since I don't want to traumatize any readers, I will share the leg pics only - as they are traumatizing all on their own.
Hey, at least I shaved!
I also downloaded some pictures this weekend.
This is one of my favourites. I try not to really post face shots of Doodle, but I think this one is okay. Every day when I go to wake him up in the morning, our little cat is usually helping wake him up. She sleeps on his bunk beds many nights, so this is what I usually come into in the morning.
We had plans to do stuff like go to church and do something Eastery today, but the combo of a tired, crampy me, an almost 4 year old who didn't want to get up and a tired husband led us to stay home and enjoy some family time together.
So, Easter this year has been a little bit low key.
The Easter Bunny did arrive at our house though. Since I had an uncharacteristically late night last night and stayed up watching a movie with Phat Daddy (10 pm - woo hoo!), the Easter Bunny did not come at night. Rather, he came after lunch when I was "napping" and Phat Daddy and Doodle were out for a walk.
It was the cutest thing because as soon as Doodle walked through the door he shouted "Goodness Gwacious - the Easter Bunny was here."
Too cute.
It's amaizng to me because 4 Easters ago we had just brought Doodle home from the hospital - a teeny tiny bundle who was too small for even our smallest sleepers. Today we were sitting on the couch discussing how next Sunday there would be 4 people in our family - not 3. How weird is that?
Doodle has been very productive today. In addition to watching FAR too much Playhouse Disney, eating way too much chocolate (counterbalanced by the fact that he wanted vegetables for breakfast and dinner) and driving the cat to near insanity, he decided to use my legs as the latest canvas for his art work. He also decorated my belly, but since I don't want to traumatize any readers, I will share the leg pics only - as they are traumatizing all on their own.
Hey, at least I shaved!I also downloaded some pictures this weekend.
This is one of my favourites. I try not to really post face shots of Doodle, but I think this one is okay. Every day when I go to wake him up in the morning, our little cat is usually helping wake him up. She sleeps on his bunk beds many nights, so this is what I usually come into in the morning.
Friday, March 21, 2008
A Little Embarrassed
You know how after you have a baby and you've gone through labour you tell everyone (or at least think) "I will never forget the pain of labour"????
well, apparently that phrase did not hold true for me because on Wednesday night I thought I was in labour. Alright - I'll back track just a bit. I was having Braxton Hicks. But, they were weird Braxton Hicks. They were consistent and painful. Not super painful, more like pressure-filled and uncomfortable. And I felt kind of nauseous. I decided to wait it out. From 6pm-3am I waited it out. Phat Daddy went out to a meeting which was fine with me.
I put Doodle to bed, slept for a bit, and then woke up at around 10, still with the Braxton Hicks and still uncomfortable. Finally Phat Daddy got home.
He sprang into action putting the car seat in the van, helping me get all the hospital stuff in order and then went to bed. While I timed things.
I tried to sleep but I couldn't. Between adrenaline and nerves and feeling like crap sleep was not coming.
Finally at 3 am I called Labour and Delivery. I explained that I thought it was Braxton Hicks, but the doctor told me he wanted me to come in because some people don't fine labour as painful as others. And he said the consistency was concerning.
Great.
So, I woke up Phat Daddy whose first question was "are you sure."
I didn't know how to answer him. With Doodle it was WAY different. I was in excruciating pain. Forget about calling the hospital, I could hardly string two words together. So, no, I wasn't sure.
To add to the frustration is the fact that we have Doodle.
It would be one thing for the 2 of us to hop in the van and go check it out. It's a whole other thing to then call and wake up my parents or sister and bring Doodle over, and hope that Doodle goes back to sleep.
But, since we'd been instructed we sprang into action. Within minutes the van was loaded, Doodle was at Grandma's and we were en route to the hospital.
And what happened?
NOTHING.
They hooked me up to monitors for what seemed like forever. And ... the Braxton Hicks stopped. Forget about contractions there was nothing. The baby fell asleep or something. And I got more and more annoyed as absolutely nothing happened.
Eventually the doctor came. She was really really nice. She discovered I was 1 cm dilated (which I could have been for months). Her advice was to go out for a couple of hours, see if contractions pick up and then come back.
Of course by this time I was in tears. I was tired, annoyed, frustrated, and sore.
So, Phat Daddy and I did what she suggested. We stopped for coffee and then went for a really long walk.
Because the hospital happens to be in walking distance of where my old apartment is and the university we met at and both went to school, we went for a walk around the campus and the surrounding area. I knew the baby wasn't coming, but we figured it was still nice to walk. And, at 6:30 in the morning, what else is there to do?
It was actually kind of neat because we haven't walked in the area for years. I mean, we've gone to the nearby shopping centre, but not just wandered the campus. For the crappiness that was the morning the walk was nice.
We finally made our way back to the hospital for about 8am. I had Phat Daddy call my mom and explain that because I was only 1cm I was going home.
As I was sitting there feeling sheepish for not knowing the symptoms the nurse came in and said she found someone I would be happy to see. Having never met this nurse, and having no energy to figure out who she meant (my hairstylist? a celebrity?) in walked my own ob. I love my ob, and pretty much everyone loves her. She's an amazing doctor, and very very kind. Plus, she knows I struggle with depression and emotions and seriously remembered our previous conversations. She had come into the hospital to check on some of her patients, and when she saw my name she decided to examine me herself instead of the resident doing it.
I was still 1 cm.
The good news is that the baby was doing really well and was healthy and active (I knew that). And the other good news was that despite the excitement and exercise my blood pressure was fine. And she told me not to be embarassed.
But still ... I am.
we made it home. And slept.
I have a week to go. This is totally do-able. But really ... Grrr! I'm such a knob.
well, apparently that phrase did not hold true for me because on Wednesday night I thought I was in labour. Alright - I'll back track just a bit. I was having Braxton Hicks. But, they were weird Braxton Hicks. They were consistent and painful. Not super painful, more like pressure-filled and uncomfortable. And I felt kind of nauseous. I decided to wait it out. From 6pm-3am I waited it out. Phat Daddy went out to a meeting which was fine with me.
I put Doodle to bed, slept for a bit, and then woke up at around 10, still with the Braxton Hicks and still uncomfortable. Finally Phat Daddy got home.
He sprang into action putting the car seat in the van, helping me get all the hospital stuff in order and then went to bed. While I timed things.
I tried to sleep but I couldn't. Between adrenaline and nerves and feeling like crap sleep was not coming.
Finally at 3 am I called Labour and Delivery. I explained that I thought it was Braxton Hicks, but the doctor told me he wanted me to come in because some people don't fine labour as painful as others. And he said the consistency was concerning.
Great.
So, I woke up Phat Daddy whose first question was "are you sure."
I didn't know how to answer him. With Doodle it was WAY different. I was in excruciating pain. Forget about calling the hospital, I could hardly string two words together. So, no, I wasn't sure.
To add to the frustration is the fact that we have Doodle.
It would be one thing for the 2 of us to hop in the van and go check it out. It's a whole other thing to then call and wake up my parents or sister and bring Doodle over, and hope that Doodle goes back to sleep.
But, since we'd been instructed we sprang into action. Within minutes the van was loaded, Doodle was at Grandma's and we were en route to the hospital.
And what happened?
NOTHING.
They hooked me up to monitors for what seemed like forever. And ... the Braxton Hicks stopped. Forget about contractions there was nothing. The baby fell asleep or something. And I got more and more annoyed as absolutely nothing happened.
Eventually the doctor came. She was really really nice. She discovered I was 1 cm dilated (which I could have been for months). Her advice was to go out for a couple of hours, see if contractions pick up and then come back.
Of course by this time I was in tears. I was tired, annoyed, frustrated, and sore.
So, Phat Daddy and I did what she suggested. We stopped for coffee and then went for a really long walk.
Because the hospital happens to be in walking distance of where my old apartment is and the university we met at and both went to school, we went for a walk around the campus and the surrounding area. I knew the baby wasn't coming, but we figured it was still nice to walk. And, at 6:30 in the morning, what else is there to do?
It was actually kind of neat because we haven't walked in the area for years. I mean, we've gone to the nearby shopping centre, but not just wandered the campus. For the crappiness that was the morning the walk was nice.
We finally made our way back to the hospital for about 8am. I had Phat Daddy call my mom and explain that because I was only 1cm I was going home.
As I was sitting there feeling sheepish for not knowing the symptoms the nurse came in and said she found someone I would be happy to see. Having never met this nurse, and having no energy to figure out who she meant (my hairstylist? a celebrity?) in walked my own ob. I love my ob, and pretty much everyone loves her. She's an amazing doctor, and very very kind. Plus, she knows I struggle with depression and emotions and seriously remembered our previous conversations. She had come into the hospital to check on some of her patients, and when she saw my name she decided to examine me herself instead of the resident doing it.
I was still 1 cm.
The good news is that the baby was doing really well and was healthy and active (I knew that). And the other good news was that despite the excitement and exercise my blood pressure was fine. And she told me not to be embarassed.
But still ... I am.
we made it home. And slept.
I have a week to go. This is totally do-able. But really ... Grrr! I'm such a knob.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
A Day With Doodle
Today when I went to get Doodle up from bed (where he was wide awake and pretending to be a transformer) he told me he has a great idea.
Since I haven't had the baby yet, and since he doesn't want to go to daycare, how about he stays home with me and we have a fun day. Since my whole plan for the day was to read a book and relax I readily agreed. I mean, why not???
So today we've got some fun plans. We're spending the morning hanging out and not doing too much. I think that will mean some Playhouse Disney for Doodle and a good book for me. And, then in the afternoon we're working on his upcoming birthday party. I long ago promised him that I'd take him to Costco to get candy for his loot bags, and we may also hit the party store. I may even call and see if my nieces want to join us.
I'm actually debating if denim (maternity) capris and big yellow rain boots are an okay fashion statement. I saw a similar look on the Steven and Chris show this week, and I'm thinking I could rock that look. Or maybe not.
I'll have to try it.
But, you can pull off a lot more things when you're pregnant.
Speaking of fashion ...
Yesterday I went with my mom for mani/pedis. It was really fun. There's nothing like sitting drinking apple cider in a massaging chair while having your hands and feet massaged. It was really quite lovely.
Since I haven't had the baby yet, and since he doesn't want to go to daycare, how about he stays home with me and we have a fun day. Since my whole plan for the day was to read a book and relax I readily agreed. I mean, why not???
So today we've got some fun plans. We're spending the morning hanging out and not doing too much. I think that will mean some Playhouse Disney for Doodle and a good book for me. And, then in the afternoon we're working on his upcoming birthday party. I long ago promised him that I'd take him to Costco to get candy for his loot bags, and we may also hit the party store. I may even call and see if my nieces want to join us.
I'm actually debating if denim (maternity) capris and big yellow rain boots are an okay fashion statement. I saw a similar look on the Steven and Chris show this week, and I'm thinking I could rock that look. Or maybe not.
I'll have to try it.
But, you can pull off a lot more things when you're pregnant.
Speaking of fashion ...
Yesterday I went with my mom for mani/pedis. It was really fun. There's nothing like sitting drinking apple cider in a massaging chair while having your hands and feet massaged. It was really quite lovely.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Cat Training
So since this baby seems to be in no rush to greet the world I've embarked on a brand new adventure.
I'm training our cat. That would be our kitten, Miss Rosie.
She's a very sweet cat. She loves Doodle to death. In fact she loves us all, and there's nothing more wonderful in her world than being cuddled for hours on end. She also likes to keep our older cat company. She's brought out the youth in Mojo and the two of them chase each other and sleep in the same chair, and do all sorts of fun things.
But ...
Rosie can be very bad.
Much like a two-year-old she understands that the word no means to stop what she is doing, but she just doesn't care. Phat Daddy and I have been getting progessively angrier, and I realized that it's kind of dumb that we expect Doodle to listen to us, but he watches as we helplessly try to discipline the cat and then let her get away with what she was doing.
Bad example.
So, Operation Cat Training kicked into high gear this weekend.
I bought a water spray bottle. It's the best cat training tool ever. Every time I say "no" and Rosie doesn't listen I spray her. And the message is LOUD AND CLEAR.
Doodle is fascinated by this.
He's jumped in on the action. He spends all his time waiting for the cat to be bad to spray her. The thing is, we have the whole say no first and then spray rule. And when Doodle says no the cat listens.
For instance, if I tell her to get off the table she just looks at me and lies down. If Doodle tells her to get off the table she jumps off. And he doesn't get to spray her.
It's quite funny to watch.
But, I'm hoping that eventually the cat will start listening to me. Or else I'll spend the rest of my life wandering the house with a spray bottle making sure my cat stays in line.
On Sunday night as we were yet again spraying the cat, Doodle turned to me and said "Mommy, if my baby is bad do I get to spray her also?"
Ummmm ... we'll have to see.
It could be an interesting household.
I'm training our cat. That would be our kitten, Miss Rosie.
She's a very sweet cat. She loves Doodle to death. In fact she loves us all, and there's nothing more wonderful in her world than being cuddled for hours on end. She also likes to keep our older cat company. She's brought out the youth in Mojo and the two of them chase each other and sleep in the same chair, and do all sorts of fun things.
But ...
Rosie can be very bad.
Much like a two-year-old she understands that the word no means to stop what she is doing, but she just doesn't care. Phat Daddy and I have been getting progessively angrier, and I realized that it's kind of dumb that we expect Doodle to listen to us, but he watches as we helplessly try to discipline the cat and then let her get away with what she was doing.
Bad example.
So, Operation Cat Training kicked into high gear this weekend.
I bought a water spray bottle. It's the best cat training tool ever. Every time I say "no" and Rosie doesn't listen I spray her. And the message is LOUD AND CLEAR.
Doodle is fascinated by this.
He's jumped in on the action. He spends all his time waiting for the cat to be bad to spray her. The thing is, we have the whole say no first and then spray rule. And when Doodle says no the cat listens.
For instance, if I tell her to get off the table she just looks at me and lies down. If Doodle tells her to get off the table she jumps off. And he doesn't get to spray her.
It's quite funny to watch.
But, I'm hoping that eventually the cat will start listening to me. Or else I'll spend the rest of my life wandering the house with a spray bottle making sure my cat stays in line.
On Sunday night as we were yet again spraying the cat, Doodle turned to me and said "Mommy, if my baby is bad do I get to spray her also?"
Ummmm ... we'll have to see.
It could be an interesting household.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Ugh ...
Is there anyone who is super positive and active and "feeling it" at this point in their pregnancy? Cause let's be honest. I'm done.
Like totally and utterly done.
I have 11 days to go till my c-section. Less if I can go into labour on my own (and I'm trying) and I have pretty much had it. I just feel gross, out of sorts and not in the mood to do anything. No tv appeals to me. No books appeal to me. Sleeping does appeal, but I can't sleep uninterrupted anymore. Between peeing and heartburn and every.little.noise waking me up I'm just cranky and uncomfortable.
And then there's the food thing.
If you know anything about me you will know that I struggle with weight. Want to know why? In a nutshell I'm an emotional eater. If I'm stressed I eat. If I'm happy I eat. If I'm sad I eat. If I'm angry I eat. And I eat when I'm hungry in addition to my moods. That is bad.
What's weird, is that I can't eat right now. I'm losing weight. I know this is good. I'm not complaining about losing weight. But, when you lose a vice ... that's weird. I mean, it's like quitting smoking. It's great and all, but when you're moody it's not like that pack of gum is particularly appealing.
Ya know.
I don't know what's wrong. I think this is pretty normal. At this point in my pregnancy with Doodle I had already had him (or was in labour) so I have to admit I wasn't ready for this sudden feeling of drifting. The feeling of trying to balance stuff I want to get done with stuff that I need to get done.
Like, does washing all the baby clothes jinx my desire for an early labour? Logically no, but try to explain that to me. So instead I'm trying to line up fun stuff. Today I dyed my hair (and I love it!). Tomorrow I'm off for a pedicure, I think. Keeping positive.
Weird weird weird emotions. I'm so ready for this baby!
Like totally and utterly done.
I have 11 days to go till my c-section. Less if I can go into labour on my own (and I'm trying) and I have pretty much had it. I just feel gross, out of sorts and not in the mood to do anything. No tv appeals to me. No books appeal to me. Sleeping does appeal, but I can't sleep uninterrupted anymore. Between peeing and heartburn and every.little.noise waking me up I'm just cranky and uncomfortable.
And then there's the food thing.
If you know anything about me you will know that I struggle with weight. Want to know why? In a nutshell I'm an emotional eater. If I'm stressed I eat. If I'm happy I eat. If I'm sad I eat. If I'm angry I eat. And I eat when I'm hungry in addition to my moods. That is bad.
What's weird, is that I can't eat right now. I'm losing weight. I know this is good. I'm not complaining about losing weight. But, when you lose a vice ... that's weird. I mean, it's like quitting smoking. It's great and all, but when you're moody it's not like that pack of gum is particularly appealing.
Ya know.
I don't know what's wrong. I think this is pretty normal. At this point in my pregnancy with Doodle I had already had him (or was in labour) so I have to admit I wasn't ready for this sudden feeling of drifting. The feeling of trying to balance stuff I want to get done with stuff that I need to get done.
Like, does washing all the baby clothes jinx my desire for an early labour? Logically no, but try to explain that to me. So instead I'm trying to line up fun stuff. Today I dyed my hair (and I love it!). Tomorrow I'm off for a pedicure, I think. Keeping positive.
Weird weird weird emotions. I'm so ready for this baby!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Oh! The Indignity
I've hit the last couple weeks of being pregnant. Since I have a section planned for March 28th I know I have 13 days or less till this baby is here.
It seems so far and so close.
And, I've hit the point of weekly ob appointments. I totally get the need for this. They check the baby's heartbeat and my growth (or shrinkage since I lost weight this week!) and all of that stuff. I get it. Important.
But, also annoying.
This week my doctor was away for March Break so I had a replacement ob. I did not like this woman. You have to understand that I love my ob. She's very calm and reassuring. She's youngish (maybe 35 or so) and easy going. Whenever I am panicky with questions, which is almost every appointment, she is very calm about it.
And then I got the replacement.
At almost 37 weeks, and uncomfortable, tired and achy it was not a good combo.
Let me paint the picture. I sit on the examining table waiting for the doctor (and I'm fully dressed). she comes in and asks me to lie down so she can measure my stomach. Normal. Fine. So as I'm lying there with her measuring me she picks up my chart and says "today is your GBS swab." Okay. If you know what it is, you know it's not a pleasant test. if you don't you can google it. But, the bottom line is, some doctors to the swab, others send you to the bathroom.
Apparently she does it herself because there I was lying down trying to be relaxed and she whipped down my pants. No warning. Just pulled down my pants. I totally jumped.
Hello. Dignity much?
And there I am, lying pantless, and she says "oh, do you want a sheet to cover up?"
well, yes...
so she swabs, and the next thing I know she says "While we've got you here, let's check that cervix."
And, before I know it, out comes the rubber glove, and without warning up she goes.
It was the weirdest appointment ever. And quick. I mean, I know we want to stay on schedule, but good lord, a minute would not kill you.
So, she finishes up and says "you're good to go." And then pulled my pants up for me!!!! I'm not 2. I can totally do that myself. So, as she's now dressing me I asked her what she had discovered during her tests.
She answered me. But, she may have been speaking a whole other language cause she said it so quickly and used words I'd never heard that I didn't know what she meant. So, I said "so ... am I dilated?"
Her answer was that she'd just explained that to me, but that she could tell that I'd already had a baby but that I hadn't dilated this pregnancy. And then she said "tough luck." WHAT?????
weird.
Thankfully my ob is back next week. As I was leaving the nurse came up to me and wished me a good week and whispered "don't worry, Dr. B is back next week."
For that I could not be more grateful.
I get the impression that this baby isn't coming out on her own.
So, the next week will be spent relaxing and not doing too much.
It seems so far and so close.
And, I've hit the point of weekly ob appointments. I totally get the need for this. They check the baby's heartbeat and my growth (or shrinkage since I lost weight this week!) and all of that stuff. I get it. Important.
But, also annoying.
This week my doctor was away for March Break so I had a replacement ob. I did not like this woman. You have to understand that I love my ob. She's very calm and reassuring. She's youngish (maybe 35 or so) and easy going. Whenever I am panicky with questions, which is almost every appointment, she is very calm about it.
And then I got the replacement.
At almost 37 weeks, and uncomfortable, tired and achy it was not a good combo.
Let me paint the picture. I sit on the examining table waiting for the doctor (and I'm fully dressed). she comes in and asks me to lie down so she can measure my stomach. Normal. Fine. So as I'm lying there with her measuring me she picks up my chart and says "today is your GBS swab." Okay. If you know what it is, you know it's not a pleasant test. if you don't you can google it. But, the bottom line is, some doctors to the swab, others send you to the bathroom.
Apparently she does it herself because there I was lying down trying to be relaxed and she whipped down my pants. No warning. Just pulled down my pants. I totally jumped.
Hello. Dignity much?
And there I am, lying pantless, and she says "oh, do you want a sheet to cover up?"
well, yes...
so she swabs, and the next thing I know she says "While we've got you here, let's check that cervix."
And, before I know it, out comes the rubber glove, and without warning up she goes.
It was the weirdest appointment ever. And quick. I mean, I know we want to stay on schedule, but good lord, a minute would not kill you.
So, she finishes up and says "you're good to go." And then pulled my pants up for me!!!! I'm not 2. I can totally do that myself. So, as she's now dressing me I asked her what she had discovered during her tests.
She answered me. But, she may have been speaking a whole other language cause she said it so quickly and used words I'd never heard that I didn't know what she meant. So, I said "so ... am I dilated?"
Her answer was that she'd just explained that to me, but that she could tell that I'd already had a baby but that I hadn't dilated this pregnancy. And then she said "tough luck." WHAT?????
weird.
Thankfully my ob is back next week. As I was leaving the nurse came up to me and wished me a good week and whispered "don't worry, Dr. B is back next week."
For that I could not be more grateful.
I get the impression that this baby isn't coming out on her own.
So, the next week will be spent relaxing and not doing too much.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
My Child is Genius
Okay.
Maybe genius is a stretch. But today he did something really cool and new to me. He wrote "Mommy" and then proceeded to write the shortened version of his name.
I was shocked.
He'll be 4 in April, and so I know it's really normal for him to be at a stage where he should be interested in letters. The problem is, he hasn't been. At all.
Here's the thing. I could read when I was 3 and a half, and I love reading and writing and spelling and grammar. So, the fact that he was completely uninterested in writing or learning his letters was beginning to bug me a bit.
You know, in that way that you are well aware it shouldn't bug you and you shouldn't pressure your child to perform, but would it kill you to want to write your name?
More startling was the fact that he was and is enamored by science and math. Good for him, but I suck at science and math. So the fact that he wanted to sit and write letters tonight? Awesome.
As I've mentioned, every evening after Handy Manny we turn off the tv and have "fun time." After a few weeks this is working out quite well. There are rarely fights over turning the tv off, and he comes up with some interesting things to do. Tonight was when we worked on our letters. He wanted to write his name and mine and daddy and baby. It was pretty cool.
I know I know a lot of kids have mastered the art of writing their name. And good for them. But, I'm just really glad we're finally hitting this milestone.
It's not really legible, and by the time he starts JK in September I'd like him to be able to write his name clearly, but for now I'll take it!
Maybe genius is a stretch. But today he did something really cool and new to me. He wrote "Mommy" and then proceeded to write the shortened version of his name.
I was shocked.
He'll be 4 in April, and so I know it's really normal for him to be at a stage where he should be interested in letters. The problem is, he hasn't been. At all.
Here's the thing. I could read when I was 3 and a half, and I love reading and writing and spelling and grammar. So, the fact that he was completely uninterested in writing or learning his letters was beginning to bug me a bit.
You know, in that way that you are well aware it shouldn't bug you and you shouldn't pressure your child to perform, but would it kill you to want to write your name?
More startling was the fact that he was and is enamored by science and math. Good for him, but I suck at science and math. So the fact that he wanted to sit and write letters tonight? Awesome.
As I've mentioned, every evening after Handy Manny we turn off the tv and have "fun time." After a few weeks this is working out quite well. There are rarely fights over turning the tv off, and he comes up with some interesting things to do. Tonight was when we worked on our letters. He wanted to write his name and mine and daddy and baby. It was pretty cool.
I know I know a lot of kids have mastered the art of writing their name. And good for them. But, I'm just really glad we're finally hitting this milestone.
It's not really legible, and by the time he starts JK in September I'd like him to be able to write his name clearly, but for now I'll take it!
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Finishing Work
I've been toying with this post for the last few days, but it's hard to explain without this sounding like a pity post, which it isn't.
I'm feeling a little irrelevant at work.
I should back up and explain a bit.
Friday is my last day. I worked with my manager to wrap up all of the projects that I was working on early so that I could have time to pack my office (this has been quite an endeavour), make sure all the loose ends were tied up and take it easy in the last week or so. I've really appreciated the leeway here. I've enjoyed taking lunches with my friends and making sure I could say goodbye to people.
But, I've also realized in the last few days just how much work defines my identity.
Over the past 3 years, since I went back to work, I've struggled to find an identity where I'm a mommy in the morning and night and a professional during the day. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it's a struggle. But I've done pretty well.
However, in the last week or so as I've had less and less to do, I've been asked to fewer meetings and not had to join many conference calls work has been hard. For the first time in 3 years I've been, dare I say it ... BORED. And I hate that.
More and more I realize just how much being a working mom is a part of who I am.
When I was pregnant with Doodle I was having a really difficult time workwise. I enjoyed my job, but the company changed ownership, was bought out by a complete prick, and there was clearly no job for me after maternity leave. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be a stay at home mom or a working mom. I had no idea what to expect.
This time around I have a sense of security. I love my job. I love my colleagues (most of them). I know when I'm going back to work, and there's no confusion in my mind as to whether I want to be a SAHM or a Working Parent. The decision is made. And I'm ready to spend time at home with my growing family.
But, I'm sensing there's going to be a bit of a tough transition. I had a complete meltdown when they tried to take away my blackberry (thank goodness that my manager and vp agreed with my arguments to keep it) and I know I'll be logging in just to keep in the loop. And then there's the whole social side of things. I've already made plans with one colleague to go for manicures together. I've arranged to be invited to lunches for weddings, and of course I expect to be kept in the gossip loop.
But I'm also really really really relieved to have some time off. And, unlike the year I spent with Doodle fretting about what I would do, I think I'll choose to spend this year enjoying a change of lifestyle (note I did not say Break) and fretting about more important things like losing the baby weight and not turning into someone who wears "mom jeans".
I'm feeling a little irrelevant at work.
I should back up and explain a bit.
Friday is my last day. I worked with my manager to wrap up all of the projects that I was working on early so that I could have time to pack my office (this has been quite an endeavour), make sure all the loose ends were tied up and take it easy in the last week or so. I've really appreciated the leeway here. I've enjoyed taking lunches with my friends and making sure I could say goodbye to people.
But, I've also realized in the last few days just how much work defines my identity.
Over the past 3 years, since I went back to work, I've struggled to find an identity where I'm a mommy in the morning and night and a professional during the day. Sometimes it's easy. Sometimes it's a struggle. But I've done pretty well.
However, in the last week or so as I've had less and less to do, I've been asked to fewer meetings and not had to join many conference calls work has been hard. For the first time in 3 years I've been, dare I say it ... BORED. And I hate that.
More and more I realize just how much being a working mom is a part of who I am.
When I was pregnant with Doodle I was having a really difficult time workwise. I enjoyed my job, but the company changed ownership, was bought out by a complete prick, and there was clearly no job for me after maternity leave. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be a stay at home mom or a working mom. I had no idea what to expect.
This time around I have a sense of security. I love my job. I love my colleagues (most of them). I know when I'm going back to work, and there's no confusion in my mind as to whether I want to be a SAHM or a Working Parent. The decision is made. And I'm ready to spend time at home with my growing family.
But, I'm sensing there's going to be a bit of a tough transition. I had a complete meltdown when they tried to take away my blackberry (thank goodness that my manager and vp agreed with my arguments to keep it) and I know I'll be logging in just to keep in the loop. And then there's the whole social side of things. I've already made plans with one colleague to go for manicures together. I've arranged to be invited to lunches for weddings, and of course I expect to be kept in the gossip loop.
But I'm also really really really relieved to have some time off. And, unlike the year I spent with Doodle fretting about what I would do, I think I'll choose to spend this year enjoying a change of lifestyle (note I did not say Break) and fretting about more important things like losing the baby weight and not turning into someone who wears "mom jeans".
Monday, March 10, 2008
The hospital Bag
My task of the weekend was packing my hospital bag.
Sounds easy enough. And, really it was. But, I had a huge list of stuff to buy (think nipple cream, feminine products and breast pads) that really wasn't pretty.
I opted to go to a store I rarely frequent rather than risk the chance of getting this stuff at my local grocery store or pharmacy where I frequently bump into people I know. Of course I'm aware that at almost 30 I should be quite comfortable with purchasing the necessary objects of being a woman, but really I'd rather my next-door neighbour NOT know all the details.
So, off I went to a store on a quiet Sunday morning and purchased everything I needed. I didn't even wince when I had to throw in a package of pads that was the EXACT SAME SIZE as the pack of newborn diapers. Afterall, I knew no one. I was humming as I grabbed the nipple cream and spent several minutes debating between Avent nursing pads vs. Medela nursing pads (I went with Avent).
I threw in the extra-strength deodorant and the anti-dandruff shampoo. I even got some lovely super-sized granny panties (notice I had to buy them cause I have none) , a few comfy bras and just for fun some Tinkerbell underwear. By the time I ended up in the toy section to grab Phat Daddy and Doodle I was quite comfortable with the contents of my buggy.
And off we went to pay.
When we got to the front cash a lovely, young cashier chatted with me as I started to put my purchases up.
It was all well and good until I got to some of the personal stuff. And then the girl looked horrified. She pointed to the box of nursing pads and asked "what are these?" I explained. She asked that of a few more things.
When she got to my super-sized package of pads she turned to me with utmost sincerity and said, "this is largest package I have ever seen!!!!" She proceeded to tell me that I could purchase thin ones these days.
Thanks. I'm 29. I've never NOT been able to purchase thin pads. So I explained to her the reason why I was buying all of this. The poor girl, who later told me she's 18, was horrified. And told me she will never have a baby.
It was pretty funny. And, I feel like I have maybe prevented at least 1 teenage pregnancy.
Sounds easy enough. And, really it was. But, I had a huge list of stuff to buy (think nipple cream, feminine products and breast pads) that really wasn't pretty.
I opted to go to a store I rarely frequent rather than risk the chance of getting this stuff at my local grocery store or pharmacy where I frequently bump into people I know. Of course I'm aware that at almost 30 I should be quite comfortable with purchasing the necessary objects of being a woman, but really I'd rather my next-door neighbour NOT know all the details.
So, off I went to a store on a quiet Sunday morning and purchased everything I needed. I didn't even wince when I had to throw in a package of pads that was the EXACT SAME SIZE as the pack of newborn diapers. Afterall, I knew no one. I was humming as I grabbed the nipple cream and spent several minutes debating between Avent nursing pads vs. Medela nursing pads (I went with Avent).
I threw in the extra-strength deodorant and the anti-dandruff shampoo. I even got some lovely super-sized granny panties (notice I had to buy them cause I have none) , a few comfy bras and just for fun some Tinkerbell underwear. By the time I ended up in the toy section to grab Phat Daddy and Doodle I was quite comfortable with the contents of my buggy.
And off we went to pay.
When we got to the front cash a lovely, young cashier chatted with me as I started to put my purchases up.
It was all well and good until I got to some of the personal stuff. And then the girl looked horrified. She pointed to the box of nursing pads and asked "what are these?" I explained. She asked that of a few more things.
When she got to my super-sized package of pads she turned to me with utmost sincerity and said, "this is largest package I have ever seen!!!!" She proceeded to tell me that I could purchase thin ones these days.
Thanks. I'm 29. I've never NOT been able to purchase thin pads. So I explained to her the reason why I was buying all of this. The poor girl, who later told me she's 18, was horrified. And told me she will never have a baby.
It was pretty funny. And, I feel like I have maybe prevented at least 1 teenage pregnancy.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Paging Dr. Freud ... and a Pick Me Up
I've always had crazy dreams, and it seems this trait is passing on to my son!
Yesterday we went to pick up Doodle at daycare and his teacher was telling me that Doodle often tells them what he dreams about at naptime.
Yesterday he said to his teacher, "I had a wonderful dream today. I dreamt about naked people and firetrucks." Hmmmm ...
Any dream analysts out there? I thought that was hilarious.
I have to admit I love to hear about Doodle's dreams. When I wake him up in the morning, when he's still groggy I cuddle him and ask what he dreamt about. Some of his dreams crack me up. Last night he dreamt about his sister, whom he calls Arial. He always dreams that she is very nice and very pretty and they cuddle in his bed and tell secrets. I sware I don't feed him this stuff.
----
And, on a completely different topic, I know I was sounding a little dreary this week with all the choices facing me, but ...
It's been a pretty cool week.
On Wednesday I was surprised. I had lunch with the group of people I work with (my branch? division? department?) and they gave me a really nice baby gift. It was totally unexpected, and I was touched.
Yesterday I had lunch with a good friend of mine, and it was just a really nice visit. You know the kind of familiar visit where you have a long enough friendship history where you can talk about a myriad of topics (from candle parties to grey hairs) and know that no matter what you say you won't be judged. And, then I came home and my good friend had sent me a card, just to remind me that it won't be much longer now. It meant a lot to me, and also reminded me that sometimes unexpected gestures mean so much.
And today ... my friends at work have arranged a lunchtime shower for me. I'm really excited.
And, I'm beginning to remember that there are some things that no one really cares about. If I asked any of the people who've affected me this week if it mattered to them how my baby is delivered or whether I breastfeed, I know the resounding answer would be no.
----
Tonight and tomorrow we're supposed to be getting a ton more snow. It kind of sucks since I was going to go shopping for my hospital bag. But, I'm pretty sure this baby is staying put for the next few weeks (21 days to be exact) - so I'm not going to worry about it.
Yesterday we went to pick up Doodle at daycare and his teacher was telling me that Doodle often tells them what he dreams about at naptime.
Yesterday he said to his teacher, "I had a wonderful dream today. I dreamt about naked people and firetrucks." Hmmmm ...
Any dream analysts out there? I thought that was hilarious.
I have to admit I love to hear about Doodle's dreams. When I wake him up in the morning, when he's still groggy I cuddle him and ask what he dreamt about. Some of his dreams crack me up. Last night he dreamt about his sister, whom he calls Arial. He always dreams that she is very nice and very pretty and they cuddle in his bed and tell secrets. I sware I don't feed him this stuff.
----
And, on a completely different topic, I know I was sounding a little dreary this week with all the choices facing me, but ...
It's been a pretty cool week.
On Wednesday I was surprised. I had lunch with the group of people I work with (my branch? division? department?) and they gave me a really nice baby gift. It was totally unexpected, and I was touched.
Yesterday I had lunch with a good friend of mine, and it was just a really nice visit. You know the kind of familiar visit where you have a long enough friendship history where you can talk about a myriad of topics (from candle parties to grey hairs) and know that no matter what you say you won't be judged. And, then I came home and my good friend had sent me a card, just to remind me that it won't be much longer now. It meant a lot to me, and also reminded me that sometimes unexpected gestures mean so much.
And today ... my friends at work have arranged a lunchtime shower for me. I'm really excited.
And, I'm beginning to remember that there are some things that no one really cares about. If I asked any of the people who've affected me this week if it mattered to them how my baby is delivered or whether I breastfeed, I know the resounding answer would be no.
----
Tonight and tomorrow we're supposed to be getting a ton more snow. It kind of sucks since I was going to go shopping for my hospital bag. But, I'm pretty sure this baby is staying put for the next few weeks (21 days to be exact) - so I'm not going to worry about it.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Questions, questions ...
Before I got pregnant this time I made a lot of decisions. There were some absolutes that I went into this pregnancy knowing:
The breastfeeding thing ties into the ppd thing. I had a hard time with it, I struggled, and I didn't get enough sleep because I was up constantly. Again, I had the support of my doctor on this. I've also been going to therapy and a social worker to monitor my mood (I'm doing well). One of the thing that came up was the issue of breastfeeding. They are recommending against it because I have a tendency to demand perfection of myself, and because of the sleep issue. Phat Daddy is fully on board with skipping nursing in favour of formula. And, though I certainly won't say we are wealthy, the cost of formula is not nearly as crippling for us as it would have been with Doodle.
Having said all that, with less than 24 days to go in this pregnancy everything in my mind is changing and I'm flip-flopping on all of my decisions.
First of all the c-section issue. At this point the baby is average size. If I were to go into labour at 37 weeks she'd be 6.5 lbs. So, not quite as bad as Doodle (8lb 9 oz and born at 37 weeks). My ob is suggesting that if I go into labour before the scheduled section that I see how the birth progesses before going straight to a section (still an option). The thing is, as much as this idea terrified me several months, even weeks, ago at this point I'm kind of wishing I would just go into labour early so we can see. I'm totally questioning my choice.
And then there is the breastfeeding issue. I know myself. I know that if I start I will be determined to win the breastfeeding battle. I hate giving up. I'm unbelieveably stubborn sometimes. My psychiatrist said that in her mind this is setting myself up for failure. And, if I go straight for formula I will be setting myself up for success. I totally get this. And, I totally see where she is coming from. But ... I also feel like I'm potentially depriving my child of something because I'm being lazy. It's a horrible feeling. But, then, if the struggle with breastfeeding pushes me into a depression then I will be depriving my child of love and affection.
What I know for sure is that I really really want to bond with my child. With Doodle I did not bond for quite a long time. I'm not sure why. I didn't try nursing for more than a day. It was a very strange beginning.
I think I'm driving people crazy with my constant debating. My bff is a midwife, and I keep asking her questions. Convenient, but it's not like she has anymore answers than anyone else. So much of it is up to me, and it's so hard to make these decisions. I want someone to tell me what to do.
Both my doctor and psychiatrist have told me that there is no crystal ball where they can tell me absolutes. Like, there's no guarantee that a natural birth won't be as difficult as last time. But, then there's no guarantee that I won't have a more difficult recovery from a c-section than I did from forceps, no matter how confident my doctor is.
Is there a solution? No. Probably not. But, if anyone has suggestions, please feel free to pass them on.
- I wanted a c-section
- I would not let forceps near me
- I was going to do everything I could to prevent post-partum depression (ppd), and have people around me aware of the signs to look out for
- I was not going to breastfeed
The breastfeeding thing ties into the ppd thing. I had a hard time with it, I struggled, and I didn't get enough sleep because I was up constantly. Again, I had the support of my doctor on this. I've also been going to therapy and a social worker to monitor my mood (I'm doing well). One of the thing that came up was the issue of breastfeeding. They are recommending against it because I have a tendency to demand perfection of myself, and because of the sleep issue. Phat Daddy is fully on board with skipping nursing in favour of formula. And, though I certainly won't say we are wealthy, the cost of formula is not nearly as crippling for us as it would have been with Doodle.
Having said all that, with less than 24 days to go in this pregnancy everything in my mind is changing and I'm flip-flopping on all of my decisions.
First of all the c-section issue. At this point the baby is average size. If I were to go into labour at 37 weeks she'd be 6.5 lbs. So, not quite as bad as Doodle (8lb 9 oz and born at 37 weeks). My ob is suggesting that if I go into labour before the scheduled section that I see how the birth progesses before going straight to a section (still an option). The thing is, as much as this idea terrified me several months, even weeks, ago at this point I'm kind of wishing I would just go into labour early so we can see. I'm totally questioning my choice.
And then there is the breastfeeding issue. I know myself. I know that if I start I will be determined to win the breastfeeding battle. I hate giving up. I'm unbelieveably stubborn sometimes. My psychiatrist said that in her mind this is setting myself up for failure. And, if I go straight for formula I will be setting myself up for success. I totally get this. And, I totally see where she is coming from. But ... I also feel like I'm potentially depriving my child of something because I'm being lazy. It's a horrible feeling. But, then, if the struggle with breastfeeding pushes me into a depression then I will be depriving my child of love and affection.
What I know for sure is that I really really want to bond with my child. With Doodle I did not bond for quite a long time. I'm not sure why. I didn't try nursing for more than a day. It was a very strange beginning.
I think I'm driving people crazy with my constant debating. My bff is a midwife, and I keep asking her questions. Convenient, but it's not like she has anymore answers than anyone else. So much of it is up to me, and it's so hard to make these decisions. I want someone to tell me what to do.
Both my doctor and psychiatrist have told me that there is no crystal ball where they can tell me absolutes. Like, there's no guarantee that a natural birth won't be as difficult as last time. But, then there's no guarantee that I won't have a more difficult recovery from a c-section than I did from forceps, no matter how confident my doctor is.
Is there a solution? No. Probably not. But, if anyone has suggestions, please feel free to pass them on.
Counting Down and Losing our Minds
I have 9 days left of work.
That means 18 more GO Train trips (I'm guessing at least 7 will involve delays).
That means figuring out 8 more outfits that actually fit me - since I'm already dressed today.
That means I will probably finish reading the book I'm reading right now (The Other Boleyn Girl - good but slow) and still have time to read another.
That means I have a few lunches out with friends and colleagues.
And it means cleaning out my office, a task that I started yesterday and will take forever to complete.
And, in the insanity that is these last few days I'm getting lazier and lazier. Mornings tend to be difficult trying to get Doodle up, fed, dressed and out the door by about 7am. We've come up with some inventive ways to make the mornings just a little easier.
My current favourite - getting Doodle dressed the night before so that we don't have to have the getting dressed argument in the morning. Genius or Crazy? You'd be right if you said I'm losing my mind.
Phat Daddy just rolls his eyes when I do stuff like that. But he knows better than to suggest an alternative.
Know why else I'm losing my mind? I have discovered I'm on the Special K diet. They advertise it every year. It's a bowl of Special K for breakfast, a bowl of Special K for lunch and a sensible dinner. Take yesterday for example. I had a bowl of Special K for breakfast, a Lettuce Eatery Salad for lunch, and a bowl of Special K for dinner. Weird, eh?
In all honesty I'd be just as happy not to eat any dinner, but it stresses Phat Daddy out way too much, so a bowl of cereal is just fine.
And, final reason that I'm losing my mind? My posts no longer make any sense. I don't think I'll look back on these and read them cause they are a little nutty.
That means 18 more GO Train trips (I'm guessing at least 7 will involve delays).
That means figuring out 8 more outfits that actually fit me - since I'm already dressed today.
That means I will probably finish reading the book I'm reading right now (The Other Boleyn Girl - good but slow) and still have time to read another.
That means I have a few lunches out with friends and colleagues.
And it means cleaning out my office, a task that I started yesterday and will take forever to complete.
And, in the insanity that is these last few days I'm getting lazier and lazier. Mornings tend to be difficult trying to get Doodle up, fed, dressed and out the door by about 7am. We've come up with some inventive ways to make the mornings just a little easier.
My current favourite - getting Doodle dressed the night before so that we don't have to have the getting dressed argument in the morning. Genius or Crazy? You'd be right if you said I'm losing my mind.
Phat Daddy just rolls his eyes when I do stuff like that. But he knows better than to suggest an alternative.
Know why else I'm losing my mind? I have discovered I'm on the Special K diet. They advertise it every year. It's a bowl of Special K for breakfast, a bowl of Special K for lunch and a sensible dinner. Take yesterday for example. I had a bowl of Special K for breakfast, a Lettuce Eatery Salad for lunch, and a bowl of Special K for dinner. Weird, eh?
In all honesty I'd be just as happy not to eat any dinner, but it stresses Phat Daddy out way too much, so a bowl of cereal is just fine.
And, final reason that I'm losing my mind? My posts no longer make any sense. I don't think I'll look back on these and read them cause they are a little nutty.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Shuffled Off to Buffalo
And thankfully Miss Baby did NOT make an appearance on February 29th!
Friday was a little insane. My mom and I went to the Steven and Chris show. It was fun, but when we left we were hit with blizzard-like conditions and struggled to make it to the GO train.
Though we were aiming for the 3:30 train, we made it for the 4:10 train. And then when we were sitting on it it was cancelled, so we got on the 4:30 train, and finally got home around 5:30.
So ...
when I got home, Phat Daddy, Doodle and I hopped into the van and we were off. Kind of.
We didn't even make it out of our home town when Doodle announced he needed to use the potty. I was more than happy to oblige (we had been in the car for about 45 minutes). And then we proceeded on with the slowest drive ever.
After 2.5 hours Phat Daddy made a joke that totally jinxed us ... and what happened? Three snowploughs got on the highway ahead of us. We drove at 30 km/h and got to the border in about 1 hour. It was ridiculous.
We finally got to our hotel after 10 and we ordered pizza for dinner.
Despite the frustration it was kind of fun.
And, we spent the weekend shopping, swimming, eating yummy food and hanging out as a family.
One of the great things about this weekend was watching how much fun Doodle had swimming. We know he loves the water, but he's so confident now. He was swimming back and forth between Phat Daddy and I and had a HUGE smile on his face. I loved it. A lot of the time we just kind of sat back and let him swim around doing his own thing. I love how he has the freedom to do this now. I loved swimming growing up, and still do. So I hope he continues to love it.
And, even though I didn't actually sit in the hot-tub, after all the shopping we did it was really nice to sit on the edge and stick my legs in. I would love to have a house with an indoor pool and hot tub.
I was also pleasantly surprised by some of the great deals I found. I had a few baby things left on my list that I was able to pick up at great prices. Phat Daddy stupidly left me alone in the baby section at Target ... I was good though. It's not like he tells me I can or can't buy something, but he does tend to advise. For instance, had he been standing next to me when I lost my mind over pink sparkly baby shoes I may have restrained myself, but since he wasn't there ...
It was fun.
Doodle's favourite part of visiting Buffalo is choosing cereals and junk food. We always let him see what character cereals and fruit snacks are at the stores. We usually end up with some interesting cereals. Last time we went a little crazy over the Barbie Fairytopia cereal (which was gross) but this time we mixed it up. He was fascinated by Count Chocula (I'm pretty sure we can get that here) and also Little Einsteins candy. Weird. The thing is he always wants to get all this junk food and then he tries it and hates it and my nieces eat it when they come over.
Anyway, in case you can't tell ... I'm tired.
Thanks to all the activity I've had non-stop Braxton Hicks this weekend. Ouch!
Friday was a little insane. My mom and I went to the Steven and Chris show. It was fun, but when we left we were hit with blizzard-like conditions and struggled to make it to the GO train.
Though we were aiming for the 3:30 train, we made it for the 4:10 train. And then when we were sitting on it it was cancelled, so we got on the 4:30 train, and finally got home around 5:30.
So ...
when I got home, Phat Daddy, Doodle and I hopped into the van and we were off. Kind of.
We didn't even make it out of our home town when Doodle announced he needed to use the potty. I was more than happy to oblige (we had been in the car for about 45 minutes). And then we proceeded on with the slowest drive ever.
After 2.5 hours Phat Daddy made a joke that totally jinxed us ... and what happened? Three snowploughs got on the highway ahead of us. We drove at 30 km/h and got to the border in about 1 hour. It was ridiculous.
We finally got to our hotel after 10 and we ordered pizza for dinner.
Despite the frustration it was kind of fun.
And, we spent the weekend shopping, swimming, eating yummy food and hanging out as a family.
One of the great things about this weekend was watching how much fun Doodle had swimming. We know he loves the water, but he's so confident now. He was swimming back and forth between Phat Daddy and I and had a HUGE smile on his face. I loved it. A lot of the time we just kind of sat back and let him swim around doing his own thing. I love how he has the freedom to do this now. I loved swimming growing up, and still do. So I hope he continues to love it.
And, even though I didn't actually sit in the hot-tub, after all the shopping we did it was really nice to sit on the edge and stick my legs in. I would love to have a house with an indoor pool and hot tub.
I was also pleasantly surprised by some of the great deals I found. I had a few baby things left on my list that I was able to pick up at great prices. Phat Daddy stupidly left me alone in the baby section at Target ... I was good though. It's not like he tells me I can or can't buy something, but he does tend to advise. For instance, had he been standing next to me when I lost my mind over pink sparkly baby shoes I may have restrained myself, but since he wasn't there ...
It was fun.
Doodle's favourite part of visiting Buffalo is choosing cereals and junk food. We always let him see what character cereals and fruit snacks are at the stores. We usually end up with some interesting cereals. Last time we went a little crazy over the Barbie Fairytopia cereal (which was gross) but this time we mixed it up. He was fascinated by Count Chocula (I'm pretty sure we can get that here) and also Little Einsteins candy. Weird. The thing is he always wants to get all this junk food and then he tries it and hates it and my nieces eat it when they come over.
Anyway, in case you can't tell ... I'm tired.
Thanks to all the activity I've had non-stop Braxton Hicks this weekend. Ouch!
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