For Halloweens of our childhood, my brother and I were dressed in whatever costumes my mom could come up with. She didn't care about cute or impressing other playgroup moms. No, she just needed something costume-like for us trick-or-treat in, which is how my brother had to wear Lederhosen for a few years in a row. Despite my disinterest in dressing up in costumes, whether for Halloween or a costume party, (I'm admittedly the party-pooper who shows up at Halloween parties in my regular clothes) I thought I'd go all out for Halloween once I had kids. Oliver is only two and I think Halloween is just going to serve as a reminder of how uncreative and unmotivated I can be.
Oliver was a lion last year because I happened to be able to borrow a costume. I was going to use having a new baby as an excuse to not dress Oliver up this year, especially since he doesn't get Halloween yet and wouldn't care one way or another, but peer pressure got to me again. First all my friends were talking excitedly about what their kids were dressing up as and then Oliver got an invitation to his first Halloween party with his toddler friends. Wanting my kid to fit in, I found myself on Ebay looking for a costume. Chris and I had decided to dress Oliver as Charlie Brown since the costume wouldn't require anything Oliver just might refuse to wear, like a hat, mask, boots or props. Those same friends who had all the cool costumes for their kids discovered that two is a difficult year for dressing up. One-year-olds have no clue what's going on and go along with anything, while three-year-olds actually get excited for Halloween and want to wear their costumes. Two-year-olds on the other hand have to fight everything, particularly putting on a potentially uncomfortable costume for a holiday they have little understanding of. I decided we had the perfect two-year-old-friendly costume when I found a cute, authentic-looking toddler size Charlie Brown shirt on Ebay.
Oliver still didn't get Halloween this year. He liked coloring the pumpkins at the Halloween party and although he reluctantly followed us over to our neighbors with his plastic jack-o-lantern candy pail, he was excited when he got a box of raisins.
Kiera, Matteo, Oliver and Soren
Monday, October 31, 2011
On my own
After three weeks of help from Chris and my in-laws, on Monday I was on my own full-time with both kids. So here's a snapshot of 24 hours in the life of running a household and taking care of a toddler and newborn.
Monday, October 31, 2011
3:00 a.m. - Up to feed Soren. Soren had been sleeping in one- to two-hour increments for much of his short life, so I was shocked to look at the clock and realize I'd just gotten 3.5 hours of uniterrupted sleep.
3:45 a.m. - Back to bed. It took Soren longer to eat than usual, but maybe because he'd slept longer leading up to that feeding.
6:00 a.m. - Up again.
6:25 a.m. - Soren surprisingly fell asleep while nursing, which he doesn't typically do at thiat point in the morning. If he wakes up after 5:00 a.m. or so, it typically takes multiple attempts over an hour or hour and a half to get him to go back to sleep. I debated whether to go back to sleep myself, but Oliver was probably going to be up soon, and with both boys asleep, it was a rare opportunity for some peace and quiet. I'd gotten 6.5 hours of sleep, a little more than normal, and had only been roused from my sleep three times, so I considered that good enough. Besides, with the hormones still causing night sweating, I considered a shower a necessity, so I chose that over sleep.
6:50 a.m. - Soren was crying by the time I emerged from the bathroom. Apparently, he'd fooled me into thinking this morning was going to be different and he'd easily go back to sleep. I went into his room to feed him.
7:05 a.m. - Oliver wakes up. Soren had fallen asleep again while nursing, so I took another chance and put him in his crib so I could get Oliver ready for the day.
7:30 a.m. - Breakfast. Oliver had been moderately cooperative about getting ready, but then threw a fit when I wouldn't carry him downstairs. But by the time we got in the kitchen, his mood had changed and I was able to get oatmeal ready for the two of us and then we had a peaceful breakfast together.
7:40 a.m. - Cleaned up from breakfast. Oliver continued to be in a good mood and played semi-independently while I cleaned up the kitchen, which included tackling the mess from dinner the night before.
7:55 a.m. - Soren woke up again, so I fed him and got him dressed for the day.
8:25 a.m. - We played in Oliver's room and I lay Soren on the floor to watch his big brother play and encourage Oliver to read his little brother a book. Everyone co-existed happily until Oliver accidentally knocked a toy into Soren's head and in a nano-second, both boys were screaming. I nursed Soren to calm him down while simulatenaously trying to cuddle with Oliver.
8:35 a.m. - I hauled a basket of laundry down to the basement and threw it in the wash.
8:45 a.m. - We had a playdate at a friend's house, so I packed the diaper bag, bundled Soren up and strapped him into his car seat and prepared to whisk both boys and all our gear out the door. However, Oliver wouldn't come downstairs, let alone put on his shoes or jacket, and melted down into one of the worst tantrums he's capable of. Against doctor's orders, I carried him downstairs and eventually carried him kicking and screaming to the car where I needed to use considerable strength to strap him in. He continued to kick and scream the whole drive. Luckily Soren slept through the whole episode.
9:10 a.m. - I arrived at my friend's house emotionally drained, but was relieved Oliver calmed down when I told him he could have a snack when we got inside. I never thought I'd be one of those parents who bribes her kid with food, but there I was. Oliver was a bit emotionally needy at our friend's house, but with Soren sleeping in his car seat much of the time, I was able to pay more attention to Oliver. He otherwise enjoyed playing with the other kids and the toys and was well-behaved.
10:20 a.m. - Soren woke up from his nap needing to be fed. Then he spit up all over my shirt.
10:45 a.m. - We head home. I debated whether to try to do a "quick" errand on the way home, but since Oliver was in a good mood and had been cooperative about leaving the playdate, I didn't want to push my luck. And honestly, I was lazy. I didn't feel like unloading the double stroller and two kids and then doing it in reverse for something that should have been a five-minute visit. It ended up being a good call. Soren was still asleep when we got home and Oliver played happily and quietly by himself while I finished cleaning the kitchen, put the load of wash in the dryer and prepared our lunches.
11:20 a.m. - Lunch.
11:45 a.m. - Oliver went down a little early for his afternoon nap.
12:25 p.m. - Soren woke up, but I hold him off with a pacifier so I can edit this very blog post.
12:40 p.m. - Fed Soren
1:00 p.m. - Soren was fussy and didn't want to be held or eat anymore, so I swaddled him and hoped he'd nap, but he only doozed on and off for a half an hour.
1:30 p.m. - I heard Oliver cry, so I thought he was awake even if it didn't sound like he was ready to get up.
1:30 p.m. - Soren was wide awake, so I had him do his "tummy time" and played with him.
1:50 p.m. - Fed Soren.
1:55 p.m. - Soren fell soundly asleep in my lap. I was hesitant to move him, because I wanted him to nap, but there was plenty around the house I could be have been doing.
2:35 p.m. - Oliver cried out again and I thought for sure this time he'd be up, but again, it's quiet after a little bit.
3:15 p.m. - Oliver was up for real.
3:25 p.m. - Got Oliver's snack ready and then went upstairs to change his daiper.
3:30 p.m. - Oliver ate his snack while I fed Soren.
4:20 p.m. - Fed Soren again. Chris came home early from work because it was Halloween and Oliver also had swim lesson that night, so Chris was able to entertain Oliver while I tended to an increasingly fussy Soren.
4:45 p.m. - I left the kids home with Chris to run out to buy candy for trick-or-treaters. I came home to a napping Soren.
5:20 p.m. - We had a quick dinner of leftovers and then I got Oliver's bag ready for swim lessons.
5:45 p.m. - I fed Soren as Oliver headed out to swim lessons with his dad and Uncle Andy.
6:10 p.m. - I tried to feed Soren again, but it was clear the source of his fussiness was that he was tired, but I couldn't get him to nap in his crib, bouncy chair or even his car seat.
6:30 p.m. - Oliver came home from swim lessons early and we went trick-or-treating at a few of the neighbors' houses before bedtime.
7:00 p.m. - Tried to feed Oliver again and getting him to sleep is still unsuccessful. I was becoming increasingly frustrated, so Chris took over with the baby soothing and was eventually able to get him to sleep.
8:10 p.m. - Soren woke up from a short nap and finally wanted to eat and not just fuss.
8:30 p.m. - I don't know if Soren wore himself out in the late afternoon/early evening with his fussing and short naps, but he went right to sleep after that last feeding and I was able to transfer him to his crib.
9:30 p.m. - I went to bed.
10:50 p.m. - First middle-of-the-night feeding. His diaper leaked, so I had to change not just his diaper, but his clothes too.
Monday, October 31, 2011
3:00 a.m. - Up to feed Soren. Soren had been sleeping in one- to two-hour increments for much of his short life, so I was shocked to look at the clock and realize I'd just gotten 3.5 hours of uniterrupted sleep.
3:45 a.m. - Back to bed. It took Soren longer to eat than usual, but maybe because he'd slept longer leading up to that feeding.
6:00 a.m. - Up again.
6:25 a.m. - Soren surprisingly fell asleep while nursing, which he doesn't typically do at thiat point in the morning. If he wakes up after 5:00 a.m. or so, it typically takes multiple attempts over an hour or hour and a half to get him to go back to sleep. I debated whether to go back to sleep myself, but Oliver was probably going to be up soon, and with both boys asleep, it was a rare opportunity for some peace and quiet. I'd gotten 6.5 hours of sleep, a little more than normal, and had only been roused from my sleep three times, so I considered that good enough. Besides, with the hormones still causing night sweating, I considered a shower a necessity, so I chose that over sleep.
6:50 a.m. - Soren was crying by the time I emerged from the bathroom. Apparently, he'd fooled me into thinking this morning was going to be different and he'd easily go back to sleep. I went into his room to feed him.
7:05 a.m. - Oliver wakes up. Soren had fallen asleep again while nursing, so I took another chance and put him in his crib so I could get Oliver ready for the day.
7:30 a.m. - Breakfast. Oliver had been moderately cooperative about getting ready, but then threw a fit when I wouldn't carry him downstairs. But by the time we got in the kitchen, his mood had changed and I was able to get oatmeal ready for the two of us and then we had a peaceful breakfast together.
7:40 a.m. - Cleaned up from breakfast. Oliver continued to be in a good mood and played semi-independently while I cleaned up the kitchen, which included tackling the mess from dinner the night before.
7:55 a.m. - Soren woke up again, so I fed him and got him dressed for the day.
8:25 a.m. - We played in Oliver's room and I lay Soren on the floor to watch his big brother play and encourage Oliver to read his little brother a book. Everyone co-existed happily until Oliver accidentally knocked a toy into Soren's head and in a nano-second, both boys were screaming. I nursed Soren to calm him down while simulatenaously trying to cuddle with Oliver.
8:35 a.m. - I hauled a basket of laundry down to the basement and threw it in the wash.
8:45 a.m. - We had a playdate at a friend's house, so I packed the diaper bag, bundled Soren up and strapped him into his car seat and prepared to whisk both boys and all our gear out the door. However, Oliver wouldn't come downstairs, let alone put on his shoes or jacket, and melted down into one of the worst tantrums he's capable of. Against doctor's orders, I carried him downstairs and eventually carried him kicking and screaming to the car where I needed to use considerable strength to strap him in. He continued to kick and scream the whole drive. Luckily Soren slept through the whole episode.
9:10 a.m. - I arrived at my friend's house emotionally drained, but was relieved Oliver calmed down when I told him he could have a snack when we got inside. I never thought I'd be one of those parents who bribes her kid with food, but there I was. Oliver was a bit emotionally needy at our friend's house, but with Soren sleeping in his car seat much of the time, I was able to pay more attention to Oliver. He otherwise enjoyed playing with the other kids and the toys and was well-behaved.
10:20 a.m. - Soren woke up from his nap needing to be fed. Then he spit up all over my shirt.
10:45 a.m. - We head home. I debated whether to try to do a "quick" errand on the way home, but since Oliver was in a good mood and had been cooperative about leaving the playdate, I didn't want to push my luck. And honestly, I was lazy. I didn't feel like unloading the double stroller and two kids and then doing it in reverse for something that should have been a five-minute visit. It ended up being a good call. Soren was still asleep when we got home and Oliver played happily and quietly by himself while I finished cleaning the kitchen, put the load of wash in the dryer and prepared our lunches.
11:20 a.m. - Lunch.
11:45 a.m. - Oliver went down a little early for his afternoon nap.
12:25 p.m. - Soren woke up, but I hold him off with a pacifier so I can edit this very blog post.
12:40 p.m. - Fed Soren
1:00 p.m. - Soren was fussy and didn't want to be held or eat anymore, so I swaddled him and hoped he'd nap, but he only doozed on and off for a half an hour.
1:30 p.m. - I heard Oliver cry, so I thought he was awake even if it didn't sound like he was ready to get up.
1:30 p.m. - Soren was wide awake, so I had him do his "tummy time" and played with him.
1:50 p.m. - Fed Soren.
1:55 p.m. - Soren fell soundly asleep in my lap. I was hesitant to move him, because I wanted him to nap, but there was plenty around the house I could be have been doing.
2:35 p.m. - Oliver cried out again and I thought for sure this time he'd be up, but again, it's quiet after a little bit.
3:15 p.m. - Oliver was up for real.
3:25 p.m. - Got Oliver's snack ready and then went upstairs to change his daiper.
3:30 p.m. - Oliver ate his snack while I fed Soren.
4:20 p.m. - Fed Soren again. Chris came home early from work because it was Halloween and Oliver also had swim lesson that night, so Chris was able to entertain Oliver while I tended to an increasingly fussy Soren.
4:45 p.m. - I left the kids home with Chris to run out to buy candy for trick-or-treaters. I came home to a napping Soren.
5:20 p.m. - We had a quick dinner of leftovers and then I got Oliver's bag ready for swim lessons.
5:45 p.m. - I fed Soren as Oliver headed out to swim lessons with his dad and Uncle Andy.
6:10 p.m. - I tried to feed Soren again, but it was clear the source of his fussiness was that he was tired, but I couldn't get him to nap in his crib, bouncy chair or even his car seat.
6:30 p.m. - Oliver came home from swim lessons early and we went trick-or-treating at a few of the neighbors' houses before bedtime.
7:00 p.m. - Tried to feed Oliver again and getting him to sleep is still unsuccessful. I was becoming increasingly frustrated, so Chris took over with the baby soothing and was eventually able to get him to sleep.
8:10 p.m. - Soren woke up from a short nap and finally wanted to eat and not just fuss.
8:30 p.m. - I don't know if Soren wore himself out in the late afternoon/early evening with his fussing and short naps, but he went right to sleep after that last feeding and I was able to transfer him to his crib.
9:30 p.m. - I went to bed.
10:50 p.m. - First middle-of-the-night feeding. His diaper leaked, so I had to change not just his diaper, but his clothes too.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Oliver update: 25 months
I'm going to declare Oliver's current pace of language development a "language explosion." Every day he's saying a new word, as well as practicing new sounds, which allows him to pronounce yet more words. He's typically had trouble with many sounds, like ck/k, r or j, so "more" has been "mo" and "monkey" has been "mon," as if he just gave up with the rest of the word once he hit the "k" sound.
If he's not practicing a new word, Oliver is probably just saying "No," which he says to EVERYTHING it seems. We used to employ the popular tactic of offering Oliver choices in order to engage him or get him to do something, but wording those choices in the form of a question (Do you want graham crackers or fig newtons for snack?) has been backfiring on us lately, because the answer, even to two otherwise popular choices, is often, "No!" It's taking some discipline on our parts as parents to practice rephrasing as a statement (You can have either graham crackers or fig newtons for snack.) and then moving on if he's not going to cooperate, instead of desperately trying to find something he'll agree to.
In addition to language, Oliver is developing understanding of concepts. Although Chris and I had not been actively teaching him his colors, we realized he's picking it up on his own, so now we like to pick up random objects and ask him what color they are. We're just starting to help him grasp the concept of opposites, like open/shut, on/off. Oliver likes turning the light switch on and off. But the one concept he's been having trouble with is correctly using "you" and "me." Oliver will point to a picture of himself and say, "You." We realized he picked this up because when we'd point him out in the same picture, we'd tell him, "That's you." And then I'd point to myself and say, "That's me." No wonder he's confused.
Oliver is becoming more interested in playing with other kids. If there's a ball to play with, he initiates some semblance of trying to kick or throw the ball back and forth with the other kid. He's not immune to developing an obsession with wanting to play with whatever has become the desired toy of the hour among a group of toddlers, but if there's more than one of the toy, he'll offer one to the other kid, or at least "let" him or her play with it.
He develops obsessions with certain toys and activities. In the spring and early summer, all he wanted to do was go outside. Then he discovered coloring and now he's into bubbles. He likes blowing bubbles and also trying to catch them or pop them. Chris accidentally knocked over a bottle full of bubbles and Oliver collapsed onto the floor in hysterics.
Oliver also has an obsession with snacks. Just a few weeks ago, a mom in my ECFE class mentioned how her son (who's just a little older than Oliver) discovered where the snacks are kept and stands in front of the pantry and whines. Now Oliver has started doing this. We actually have to be careful that we don't even say the word "snack" in front of him, even if just in conversation with someone else, because the words sends him either running for the kitchen or demanding a "sna" (Again, still working on the "ck" sound.)
Although Oliver showed little interest in his new brother at first, he's slowly starting to pay more attention to him. He likes to try to give Soren toys, even when he's sleeping or nursing. One time I looked over at the couch where Soren was swaddled and napping and there was one Goldfish sitting on Soren's chest.
I don't know if this was a result of Soren's arrival, or just coincidence, but Oliver is starting to show his understanding for the meaning of family. He got a set of Matchbox cars for his birthday, and he's picked out a car for each member of the family. He'll pick put a car and tell you if that's the Uncle Andy car, the Pop Pop (Grandpa) car, the Baby car and so on. And he always names the same car for each person every time. When he sees groups of animals, such as at the zoo, he likes to point out the daddy, mommy and baby.
If he's not practicing a new word, Oliver is probably just saying "No," which he says to EVERYTHING it seems. We used to employ the popular tactic of offering Oliver choices in order to engage him or get him to do something, but wording those choices in the form of a question (Do you want graham crackers or fig newtons for snack?) has been backfiring on us lately, because the answer, even to two otherwise popular choices, is often, "No!" It's taking some discipline on our parts as parents to practice rephrasing as a statement (You can have either graham crackers or fig newtons for snack.) and then moving on if he's not going to cooperate, instead of desperately trying to find something he'll agree to.
In addition to language, Oliver is developing understanding of concepts. Although Chris and I had not been actively teaching him his colors, we realized he's picking it up on his own, so now we like to pick up random objects and ask him what color they are. We're just starting to help him grasp the concept of opposites, like open/shut, on/off. Oliver likes turning the light switch on and off. But the one concept he's been having trouble with is correctly using "you" and "me." Oliver will point to a picture of himself and say, "You." We realized he picked this up because when we'd point him out in the same picture, we'd tell him, "That's you." And then I'd point to myself and say, "That's me." No wonder he's confused.
Oliver is becoming more interested in playing with other kids. If there's a ball to play with, he initiates some semblance of trying to kick or throw the ball back and forth with the other kid. He's not immune to developing an obsession with wanting to play with whatever has become the desired toy of the hour among a group of toddlers, but if there's more than one of the toy, he'll offer one to the other kid, or at least "let" him or her play with it.
He develops obsessions with certain toys and activities. In the spring and early summer, all he wanted to do was go outside. Then he discovered coloring and now he's into bubbles. He likes blowing bubbles and also trying to catch them or pop them. Chris accidentally knocked over a bottle full of bubbles and Oliver collapsed onto the floor in hysterics.
Oliver also has an obsession with snacks. Just a few weeks ago, a mom in my ECFE class mentioned how her son (who's just a little older than Oliver) discovered where the snacks are kept and stands in front of the pantry and whines. Now Oliver has started doing this. We actually have to be careful that we don't even say the word "snack" in front of him, even if just in conversation with someone else, because the words sends him either running for the kitchen or demanding a "sna" (Again, still working on the "ck" sound.)
Although Oliver showed little interest in his new brother at first, he's slowly starting to pay more attention to him. He likes to try to give Soren toys, even when he's sleeping or nursing. One time I looked over at the couch where Soren was swaddled and napping and there was one Goldfish sitting on Soren's chest.
I don't know if this was a result of Soren's arrival, or just coincidence, but Oliver is starting to show his understanding for the meaning of family. He got a set of Matchbox cars for his birthday, and he's picked out a car for each member of the family. He'll pick put a car and tell you if that's the Uncle Andy car, the Pop Pop (Grandpa) car, the Baby car and so on. And he always names the same car for each person every time. When he sees groups of animals, such as at the zoo, he likes to point out the daddy, mommy and baby.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
How's Oliver doing?
Many people have been asking how my recovery is going, especially given the c-section, but equal numbers want to know how Oliver is adjusting to the new baby. It's been difficult on him for sure. He started saying the word "baby" a week or two before Soren's arrival, so he'll point out the baby and expresses some curiosity in him, but often he acts indifferent towards him.
A new sibling has got to be difficult for a two-year-old to comprehend. Oliver definitely noticed I looked different as my stomach grew bigger, but to understand how a new person suddenly appeared in our house, where he came from, and the fact that we're also mommy and daddy to the little baby, that's beyond his comprehension at this point. So we're left with a kid who just seems sad sometimes. He used to spend all day with me, but now I'm holding or feeding a baby seemingly ever minute of the day, don't have much time to spend with him without the baby and can't pick him up.
Having Chris off work has helped a lot, because while I'm planted on the couch feeding Soren or trying to stay off my feet to recuperate from surgery, Chris's main job has been playing with Oliver. They're having a lot of fun together, but yet, tantrums have taken on a new intensity and trying to get him to do anything (brush his teeth, get ready to go outside, get ready for dinner) have become big battles. Granted, this new stage of yelling no at every suggestion or question may have as much to do with the age as with the new baby. Even when not being defiant, he's simply clingier and sad without us. He asks constantly for the other parent when one of us is out and misses us that much more he's left with a caregiver.
I'm panicking about the transition of Chris going back to work, but even Chris is having difficulty seeing Oliver sad so often, even though he's otherwise quite happy much of the day and is enjoying the special attention. I started this blog for Oliver, (and now Soren) and that's always been my thing, not Chris's. But then Chris surprised me by asking what Oliver's e-mail address is. (Yup, I set up a gmail address for him.) He wanted to send him an e-mail so that Oliver can read it when he's older and know that helping him through this transition has been challenging for us too, because we want him to be happy and that we love him so much.
Chris and I are first-borns and can't remember life without our little brothers, so we know Oliver will come out all right. Even when we choose to have kids, us parents may still mourn the lives we had before. It makes sense that even a two-year-old, though he won't remember these difficult days, may have some mourning to do as well. And even though he doesn't understand now how much his dad and I care about how he's feeling, I do hope someday this blog post from his mom and e-mail from his dad do show him that we really had been trying the best we could.
A new sibling has got to be difficult for a two-year-old to comprehend. Oliver definitely noticed I looked different as my stomach grew bigger, but to understand how a new person suddenly appeared in our house, where he came from, and the fact that we're also mommy and daddy to the little baby, that's beyond his comprehension at this point. So we're left with a kid who just seems sad sometimes. He used to spend all day with me, but now I'm holding or feeding a baby seemingly ever minute of the day, don't have much time to spend with him without the baby and can't pick him up.
Having Chris off work has helped a lot, because while I'm planted on the couch feeding Soren or trying to stay off my feet to recuperate from surgery, Chris's main job has been playing with Oliver. They're having a lot of fun together, but yet, tantrums have taken on a new intensity and trying to get him to do anything (brush his teeth, get ready to go outside, get ready for dinner) have become big battles. Granted, this new stage of yelling no at every suggestion or question may have as much to do with the age as with the new baby. Even when not being defiant, he's simply clingier and sad without us. He asks constantly for the other parent when one of us is out and misses us that much more he's left with a caregiver.
I'm panicking about the transition of Chris going back to work, but even Chris is having difficulty seeing Oliver sad so often, even though he's otherwise quite happy much of the day and is enjoying the special attention. I started this blog for Oliver, (and now Soren) and that's always been my thing, not Chris's. But then Chris surprised me by asking what Oliver's e-mail address is. (Yup, I set up a gmail address for him.) He wanted to send him an e-mail so that Oliver can read it when he's older and know that helping him through this transition has been challenging for us too, because we want him to be happy and that we love him so much.
Chris and I are first-borns and can't remember life without our little brothers, so we know Oliver will come out all right. Even when we choose to have kids, us parents may still mourn the lives we had before. It makes sense that even a two-year-old, though he won't remember these difficult days, may have some mourning to do as well. And even though he doesn't understand now how much his dad and I care about how he's feeling, I do hope someday this blog post from his mom and e-mail from his dad do show him that we really had been trying the best we could.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Soren's first visit to the doctor
We took Soren to his newborn wellness checkup today. He's grown a half an inch since birth to 20 1/2 inches (75th percentile) and weighs 7 pounds, 10 ounces (45th percentile), just two ounces shy of his birth weight six days after his birth.
At our pediatrician's office, after the nurse weighs and measures your baby, she writes the stats on a pre-printed sheet with developmental milestones and other information for your child's age group. When I read through the newborn information sheet, I had a flashback to a conversation with my grandmother when Oliver was about five or six weeks old. She asked how he was doing and I commented with surprise that he doesn't really do much. She still has a good laugh with that one.
When I read through Soren's sheet, was told that my baby can:
At our pediatrician's office, after the nurse weighs and measures your baby, she writes the stats on a pre-printed sheet with developmental milestones and other information for your child's age group. When I read through the newborn information sheet, I had a flashback to a conversation with my grandmother when Oliver was about five or six weeks old. She asked how he was doing and I commented with surprise that he doesn't really do much. She still has a good laugh with that one.
When I read through Soren's sheet, was told that my baby can:
- Look at me.
- Squeeze my finger
- Startle at the sound of a loud noise
- Suck on a nipple
Sunday, October 16, 2011
....and then there were four...
I woke up at 1:00 a.m. on a Monday morning to check on Oliver because he had been crying and I noticed I was having contractions. They weren't painful, but they were more uncomfortable than the false alarms I'd experienced a few nights in a row prior to that night. Those would occur at short, but regular intervals until I fell asleep. This time they were strong enough that I couldn't do more than drift in and out of sleep.
When morning arrived and I knew Chris was about to get up for work, I debated what to do. The contractions could stop at any time, or even if I were in the early stages of labor, I could continue like this all day. Chris had been so anxiously waiting for me to go into labor that I didn't want to get his hopes up or have him take a vacation day that would be much better used after the baby arrived. Because I knew my mother-in-law had the day off for Columbus Day, I called my in-laws and was careful to announce as soon as my father-in-law answered the phone that this wasn't "the call," but that I wasn't sure what was going on, but regardless, had been awake since 1:00 a.m. and could use some help with Oliver. My mother-in-law said she'd be over in an hour and without hesitation, Chris said he wasn't going in to work. He wasn't taking any chances this time about being "left behind." When I thought my water had broken with Oliver, I told Chris it probably wasn't my water, insisted he go to work and then called him an hour later from the hospital.
The contractions continued to be strong, and seemed to last longer than anything I experienced before, but they were so sporadic, sometimes only coming every 20 minutes, that I began to second-guess myself. I had all these people staying home to help me, but it began to feel like overkill. Oliver was happy to have so much attention, though, and I started to pack and do a few things around the house to keep my mind off the contractions and be prepared just in case this was the real deal.
By ten o'clock that morning, the contractions were so strong that I wanted to do nothing more than be able to lie in bed when one occurred. Chris put my laptop next to me in bed, opened up an online contraction calculator and convinced me it was time to start tracking them. Whereas only an hour earlier I had confided in Chris that I was worried this was all going to be a false alarm, after just a half an hour of laying quietly and tracking, I realized the contractions were coming five minutes apart for 60 seconds each. By the time I called Labor and Delivery, the pain in my voice was noticeable to the nurse on the other end who told me it was time to come in.
Nan took Oliver to the park so Chris could pack her car with everything he'd need for a stay with his grandparents, which as I mentioned in an earlier post, was more than I was planning on bringing to the hospital for myself. Since the chaos of trying to pack up might have been stressful for him to watch, I was relieved he wasn't around. But when Nan brought him back to get the last things before taking him back to her house, I couldn't do more than issue a quick goodbye. I wanted to hug him and explain why he was going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa for awhile, but he looked so happy and excited to be hanging out with Grandma, that I didn't want to make him sad by bursting into tears, which I was on the verge of doing if they didn't make what thankfully was a quick exit. Chris assured me he wasn't crying as they drove off.
The hospital is so close to our house that I was hoping we'd be able to make it there between contractions. One started just as Chris hit a bump in the driveway of the hospital and the pain confirmed that if I had driven myself to the hospital the last time, I clearly had not been very far in the labor process. Yet as I sat in the triage room waiting for a nurse to see me, I wondered if it'd be possible that after shipping Oliver off to his grandparents, rushing to get out the door and lugging our luggage into the hospital, if I'd still be sent back home. The nurse confirmed that I was barely three centimeters dilated. But my contractions were frequent and they'd admit me regardless because I was 41 weeks and they don't take chances at that point.
An epidural had always been part of my labor plan and I felt like I was in enough pain to warrant one. Since I'd be confined to bed, the nurse encouraged me to walk as much as possible first. I never felt like the walking was doing me any good. Just like at home, I wanted to collapse into bed when a contraction came on, but in the long, empty hospital corridors, there wasn't even a railing to lean against. I eventually retreated back to my room and the anesthesiologist was on his way.
Have you ever read up on what an epidural entails? It sounds horrid, but knowing the relief it would bring, I was ready to get the process over with. I felt relief once the epidural was in. Psychological relief, that is. I was anxious about the procedure, but thought that once the pain was gone, the end of my pregnancy would be in clear sight.
Except the pain didn't go away. And so started one of the most frustrating parts of my labor - feeling like not enough was done to help me manage pain. I told the nurse I was barely feeling any relief, but she just told me it takes a certain amount of time for the medication to take full effect. But since I'd had an epidural before, I knew that although it can take 15-20 minutes for full relief, you can feel the progress towards full pain relief during that time. After telling me I needed to give it more time, she disappeared for awhile. After about an hour, she finally called the anesthesiologist in again when I insisted it wasn't working AT ALL.
A new doctor came in and told me he'd have to redo the epidural (versus putting additional medications into the catheter already inserted in my spine). This news made me panic - the fear of the needle hitting another nerve and sending shooting pain down my right leg was still too fresh in my mind from the first attempt. But he was quick and I could already feel relief with the first contraction. It was annoying to have my whole lower body immobilized and feel that tingling feeling in my legs and feet like they had fallen asleep. But the complete relief of pain is exactly what I remember from my labor with Oliver and made the discomfort/pain of putting in the epidural worth it.
With an effective epidural, I could finally relax. I may have even dozed off. I felt like I was able to conserve my strength for what was turning into a long labor. I chatted calmly with Chris and even made some phone calls. When I could feel the epidural start to wear off, just as it had during my labor with Oliver, I didn't panic. This time I had a button I could push to self-administer more pain medication. At worst, I thought, the anesthesiologist would be called back in, like he had been during my labor with Oliver. The next possible scenario was being told I was too far along for the anesthesiologist to come in time.
I never thought the epidural would stop working and they just wouldn't try again. When discomfort started to turn into pain, I pushed the button, but the pain only grew more intense. While a friendly enough person, the nurse didn't offer me any other comfort or advice other than to keep pushing the button to administer more pain medication, which I could only do every 20 minutes and did so to no avail for over two hours. As I sobbed during each contraction, little emotion registered with her. I thought, how could she have a patient lying right next to her moaning and crying and not do anything?
At 9:00 p.m. I was only six centimeters dilated, at 10:00 p.m., seven, and at 11:00 p.m., eight. At that rate, I'd start pushing at 1:00 a.m., 24 hours after I'd last woken up after a partial night's sleep, and then could still have another two or three hours of pushing before the baby came out, or not. I had pushed for over two hours with Oliver with little progress and after four attempts with the vacuum, it was clear he was not going to come out. I feared the same scenario repeating itself.
Although I knew the likelihood of a successful VBAC wasn't very high, I never thought I'd feel a sense of failure. I assumed it'd be obvious that a c-section was the only option and therefore would have just felt disappointment that a vaginal birth wasn't going to work out. I didn't think I'd be in a position where I felt like not enough was tried and the OB on call and the nurse had written me off as a c-section. I never thought I'd ask for a c-section because I couldn't imagine enduring such pain. I really felt like I was giving up.
I only held on as long as I did because I knew a nurse shift change would be occurring around 11:00 p.m. Not a lot was going to change the situation at that point, but maybe the next nurse would show more compassion and make me feel better or offer a different perspective on my options. But I'd had enough by that point. The anesthesiologist hadn't come back in and just told the nurse to prop my bed up a bit more with the theory that gravity would help get the medications in my body where they needed to go to be effective. (Didn't work.) The OB did appear in my room, but just long enough to say there was nothing more they could do for my pain, and then he walked out.
By the time I signed the paperwork consenting to the c-section, I had cried enough over my sense of failure and was feeling instead anxious, but almost excited, about what was finally going to be the impending birth of our son. A small group from the OR appeared in my room to prep me there for surgery and they were kind and reassuring.
Because the epidural hadn't been working for me, the fourth anesthesiologist to be involved in my care that night, wanted to do a spinal, (yet enough needle in my back) which was considered quicker and more reliable than an epidural. If that didn't work, they'd have to put me under. The spinal did work, and despite the epidural not working in the spot where it had needed to, it had numbed other parts of my body, because I didn't feel anything when they administered the spinal.
I know a side effect of anesthesia is nausea, but luckily a friend had told me the story of how she'd thrown up during her c-section. When I felt a mild, but sudden nausea, I said something and a small bucket appeared just to the left of my face in time for me to throw up. (Well, since I hadn't eaten anything in 12 hours, it was more dry heaving.) Just then Chris appeared in the OR dressed in scrubs and with my camera over his shoulder. I told him to take pictures of whatever he wanted, but not of me. Not with my tear-stained face and dribbles of vomit/drool coming from my mouth.
I wonder how my labor with Soren affected Chris. He was pretty much helpless to do anything about my pain and second worse to being in pain is to watch someone you love be in pain. I think perhaps he focuses instead on the miracle that had happened. He told me later how he thinks Oliver is the greatest, how he loved our family of three and how suddenly we were four. Having a new baby, no matter how he was delivered into this world, is the coolest thing ever, he thought.
The mood in the operating room was jovial. It wasn't a somber occasion full of regret because of how the baby was going to be delivered. A baby was about to be born and that was something to celebrate. Right after Soren let out his first cries, the OB started the room full of staff in singing Happy Birthday. And a happy birthday it was indeed.
When morning arrived and I knew Chris was about to get up for work, I debated what to do. The contractions could stop at any time, or even if I were in the early stages of labor, I could continue like this all day. Chris had been so anxiously waiting for me to go into labor that I didn't want to get his hopes up or have him take a vacation day that would be much better used after the baby arrived. Because I knew my mother-in-law had the day off for Columbus Day, I called my in-laws and was careful to announce as soon as my father-in-law answered the phone that this wasn't "the call," but that I wasn't sure what was going on, but regardless, had been awake since 1:00 a.m. and could use some help with Oliver. My mother-in-law said she'd be over in an hour and without hesitation, Chris said he wasn't going in to work. He wasn't taking any chances this time about being "left behind." When I thought my water had broken with Oliver, I told Chris it probably wasn't my water, insisted he go to work and then called him an hour later from the hospital.
The contractions continued to be strong, and seemed to last longer than anything I experienced before, but they were so sporadic, sometimes only coming every 20 minutes, that I began to second-guess myself. I had all these people staying home to help me, but it began to feel like overkill. Oliver was happy to have so much attention, though, and I started to pack and do a few things around the house to keep my mind off the contractions and be prepared just in case this was the real deal.
By ten o'clock that morning, the contractions were so strong that I wanted to do nothing more than be able to lie in bed when one occurred. Chris put my laptop next to me in bed, opened up an online contraction calculator and convinced me it was time to start tracking them. Whereas only an hour earlier I had confided in Chris that I was worried this was all going to be a false alarm, after just a half an hour of laying quietly and tracking, I realized the contractions were coming five minutes apart for 60 seconds each. By the time I called Labor and Delivery, the pain in my voice was noticeable to the nurse on the other end who told me it was time to come in.
Nan took Oliver to the park so Chris could pack her car with everything he'd need for a stay with his grandparents, which as I mentioned in an earlier post, was more than I was planning on bringing to the hospital for myself. Since the chaos of trying to pack up might have been stressful for him to watch, I was relieved he wasn't around. But when Nan brought him back to get the last things before taking him back to her house, I couldn't do more than issue a quick goodbye. I wanted to hug him and explain why he was going to stay with Grandma and Grandpa for awhile, but he looked so happy and excited to be hanging out with Grandma, that I didn't want to make him sad by bursting into tears, which I was on the verge of doing if they didn't make what thankfully was a quick exit. Chris assured me he wasn't crying as they drove off.
The hospital is so close to our house that I was hoping we'd be able to make it there between contractions. One started just as Chris hit a bump in the driveway of the hospital and the pain confirmed that if I had driven myself to the hospital the last time, I clearly had not been very far in the labor process. Yet as I sat in the triage room waiting for a nurse to see me, I wondered if it'd be possible that after shipping Oliver off to his grandparents, rushing to get out the door and lugging our luggage into the hospital, if I'd still be sent back home. The nurse confirmed that I was barely three centimeters dilated. But my contractions were frequent and they'd admit me regardless because I was 41 weeks and they don't take chances at that point.
An epidural had always been part of my labor plan and I felt like I was in enough pain to warrant one. Since I'd be confined to bed, the nurse encouraged me to walk as much as possible first. I never felt like the walking was doing me any good. Just like at home, I wanted to collapse into bed when a contraction came on, but in the long, empty hospital corridors, there wasn't even a railing to lean against. I eventually retreated back to my room and the anesthesiologist was on his way.
Have you ever read up on what an epidural entails? It sounds horrid, but knowing the relief it would bring, I was ready to get the process over with. I felt relief once the epidural was in. Psychological relief, that is. I was anxious about the procedure, but thought that once the pain was gone, the end of my pregnancy would be in clear sight.
Except the pain didn't go away. And so started one of the most frustrating parts of my labor - feeling like not enough was done to help me manage pain. I told the nurse I was barely feeling any relief, but she just told me it takes a certain amount of time for the medication to take full effect. But since I'd had an epidural before, I knew that although it can take 15-20 minutes for full relief, you can feel the progress towards full pain relief during that time. After telling me I needed to give it more time, she disappeared for awhile. After about an hour, she finally called the anesthesiologist in again when I insisted it wasn't working AT ALL.
A new doctor came in and told me he'd have to redo the epidural (versus putting additional medications into the catheter already inserted in my spine). This news made me panic - the fear of the needle hitting another nerve and sending shooting pain down my right leg was still too fresh in my mind from the first attempt. But he was quick and I could already feel relief with the first contraction. It was annoying to have my whole lower body immobilized and feel that tingling feeling in my legs and feet like they had fallen asleep. But the complete relief of pain is exactly what I remember from my labor with Oliver and made the discomfort/pain of putting in the epidural worth it.
With an effective epidural, I could finally relax. I may have even dozed off. I felt like I was able to conserve my strength for what was turning into a long labor. I chatted calmly with Chris and even made some phone calls. When I could feel the epidural start to wear off, just as it had during my labor with Oliver, I didn't panic. This time I had a button I could push to self-administer more pain medication. At worst, I thought, the anesthesiologist would be called back in, like he had been during my labor with Oliver. The next possible scenario was being told I was too far along for the anesthesiologist to come in time.
I never thought the epidural would stop working and they just wouldn't try again. When discomfort started to turn into pain, I pushed the button, but the pain only grew more intense. While a friendly enough person, the nurse didn't offer me any other comfort or advice other than to keep pushing the button to administer more pain medication, which I could only do every 20 minutes and did so to no avail for over two hours. As I sobbed during each contraction, little emotion registered with her. I thought, how could she have a patient lying right next to her moaning and crying and not do anything?
At 9:00 p.m. I was only six centimeters dilated, at 10:00 p.m., seven, and at 11:00 p.m., eight. At that rate, I'd start pushing at 1:00 a.m., 24 hours after I'd last woken up after a partial night's sleep, and then could still have another two or three hours of pushing before the baby came out, or not. I had pushed for over two hours with Oliver with little progress and after four attempts with the vacuum, it was clear he was not going to come out. I feared the same scenario repeating itself.
Although I knew the likelihood of a successful VBAC wasn't very high, I never thought I'd feel a sense of failure. I assumed it'd be obvious that a c-section was the only option and therefore would have just felt disappointment that a vaginal birth wasn't going to work out. I didn't think I'd be in a position where I felt like not enough was tried and the OB on call and the nurse had written me off as a c-section. I never thought I'd ask for a c-section because I couldn't imagine enduring such pain. I really felt like I was giving up.
I only held on as long as I did because I knew a nurse shift change would be occurring around 11:00 p.m. Not a lot was going to change the situation at that point, but maybe the next nurse would show more compassion and make me feel better or offer a different perspective on my options. But I'd had enough by that point. The anesthesiologist hadn't come back in and just told the nurse to prop my bed up a bit more with the theory that gravity would help get the medications in my body where they needed to go to be effective. (Didn't work.) The OB did appear in my room, but just long enough to say there was nothing more they could do for my pain, and then he walked out.
By the time I signed the paperwork consenting to the c-section, I had cried enough over my sense of failure and was feeling instead anxious, but almost excited, about what was finally going to be the impending birth of our son. A small group from the OR appeared in my room to prep me there for surgery and they were kind and reassuring.
Because the epidural hadn't been working for me, the fourth anesthesiologist to be involved in my care that night, wanted to do a spinal, (yet enough needle in my back) which was considered quicker and more reliable than an epidural. If that didn't work, they'd have to put me under. The spinal did work, and despite the epidural not working in the spot where it had needed to, it had numbed other parts of my body, because I didn't feel anything when they administered the spinal.
I know a side effect of anesthesia is nausea, but luckily a friend had told me the story of how she'd thrown up during her c-section. When I felt a mild, but sudden nausea, I said something and a small bucket appeared just to the left of my face in time for me to throw up. (Well, since I hadn't eaten anything in 12 hours, it was more dry heaving.) Just then Chris appeared in the OR dressed in scrubs and with my camera over his shoulder. I told him to take pictures of whatever he wanted, but not of me. Not with my tear-stained face and dribbles of vomit/drool coming from my mouth.
I wonder how my labor with Soren affected Chris. He was pretty much helpless to do anything about my pain and second worse to being in pain is to watch someone you love be in pain. I think perhaps he focuses instead on the miracle that had happened. He told me later how he thinks Oliver is the greatest, how he loved our family of three and how suddenly we were four. Having a new baby, no matter how he was delivered into this world, is the coolest thing ever, he thought.
The mood in the operating room was jovial. It wasn't a somber occasion full of regret because of how the baby was going to be delivered. A baby was about to be born and that was something to celebrate. Right after Soren let out his first cries, the OB started the room full of staff in singing Happy Birthday. And a happy birthday it was indeed.
Friday, October 14, 2011
A homecoming
October 14 has become like a homecoming for our family. Two years ago today we moved into our current home. The date also happened to be Oliver's due date, except that he surprised us with an early arrival. This afternoon we brought a new baby home from the hospital. Soren Andrew Partenheimer Chesla was born on Tuesday, October 11 at 12:16 a.m. just up the road at United Hospital. He measured 20 inches long and weighed 7 pounds, 12 ounces. We spent our days at the hospital in awe of this new little person. But at home and together for the first time as a family, today marks the beginning of the rest of our lives with each other.
Friday, October 7, 2011
The waiting game
House renovations are never supposed to stay on schedule, but the only timely deliveries we've been able to count on in our life right now have been related to our basement renovation. Contractors and inspectors have shown up on time, special orders we were told would take a month arrived at least a week ahead of time, and those dreaded four-hour windows you're quoted for special deliveries or service calls haven't been a problem since everyone has arrived at more or less the beginning of the estimated time frame. This baby has been our only late delivery.
I prepared myself for the long haul, and even though babies coming late is completely normal, I am getting frustrated now that I'm a couple days over my due date. When I look at my calender and see the c-section typed in for a week from today, it's difficult for me not to think, "What if this baby never comes?" I never thought I'd be still pregnant anywhere close to October 14.
I want to try to enjoy this time before the baby comes, but honestly, I'm really bored. With my energy drained and the anxiety of going into labor at any point, the once-packed social calendar Oliver and I kept is mostly empty. Every day is a repeat of the same - wake up, realize I haven't gone into labor, and then plan a day that revolves around taking Oliver to the park and trying to suppress the guilt over all the things I could be doing to prepare for the baby's arrival, but won't do for lack of energy.
The tail-end of this pregnancy has been far from exciting for me, but after the internal debate I had with myself over whether to pursue a VBAC or a planned c-section, I still feel like I made the right choice. I will surely be very disappointed if I end up needing a c-section before going into labor, but the upside about the baby coming late is that any earlier was not the right time for him/her to come into this world. Planning a c-section earlier in my pregnancy would have given me some control over an experience that is as unpredictable as it is predictable. I could have picked a date and focused my type-A personality around the big day. But that scenario is not what felt right for me, even though much of my frustration and impatience is rooted in trying to accept the unknown.
Despite my confidence in my decision to pursue a VBAC, I'm still sensitive about it, because I want to feel supported, not like I'm inconveniencing anyone. Even though there shouldn't be more or less value placed on attempting a VBAC versus a repeat c-section, my guess is that the latter is still the more common scenario, even among women who have the choice between the two. With the unpredictability of an arrival date for a vaginal birth, I imagine everyone from well-wishers to called-upon helpers breathing a sigh or relief when a woman with the choice chooses a c-section. I chose a VBAC for many reasons, but not because I wanted unpredictability, and I often feel like I'm managing everyone else's expectations as much as my own.
For someone who's a planner and thrives on predictability, I'm left to just wait. So much in life we want to manage, fix or alter in attempt for the perfect solution, but a friend reminded me, this is a situation where doing nothing and just waiting is the right solution.
I prepared myself for the long haul, and even though babies coming late is completely normal, I am getting frustrated now that I'm a couple days over my due date. When I look at my calender and see the c-section typed in for a week from today, it's difficult for me not to think, "What if this baby never comes?" I never thought I'd be still pregnant anywhere close to October 14.
I want to try to enjoy this time before the baby comes, but honestly, I'm really bored. With my energy drained and the anxiety of going into labor at any point, the once-packed social calendar Oliver and I kept is mostly empty. Every day is a repeat of the same - wake up, realize I haven't gone into labor, and then plan a day that revolves around taking Oliver to the park and trying to suppress the guilt over all the things I could be doing to prepare for the baby's arrival, but won't do for lack of energy.
The tail-end of this pregnancy has been far from exciting for me, but after the internal debate I had with myself over whether to pursue a VBAC or a planned c-section, I still feel like I made the right choice. I will surely be very disappointed if I end up needing a c-section before going into labor, but the upside about the baby coming late is that any earlier was not the right time for him/her to come into this world. Planning a c-section earlier in my pregnancy would have given me some control over an experience that is as unpredictable as it is predictable. I could have picked a date and focused my type-A personality around the big day. But that scenario is not what felt right for me, even though much of my frustration and impatience is rooted in trying to accept the unknown.
Despite my confidence in my decision to pursue a VBAC, I'm still sensitive about it, because I want to feel supported, not like I'm inconveniencing anyone. Even though there shouldn't be more or less value placed on attempting a VBAC versus a repeat c-section, my guess is that the latter is still the more common scenario, even among women who have the choice between the two. With the unpredictability of an arrival date for a vaginal birth, I imagine everyone from well-wishers to called-upon helpers breathing a sigh or relief when a woman with the choice chooses a c-section. I chose a VBAC for many reasons, but not because I wanted unpredictability, and I often feel like I'm managing everyone else's expectations as much as my own.
For someone who's a planner and thrives on predictability, I'm left to just wait. So much in life we want to manage, fix or alter in attempt for the perfect solution, but a friend reminded me, this is a situation where doing nothing and just waiting is the right solution.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Due date
Today marks my due date, and proves wrong my doctor's prediction that I'd go early, and even my gut feeling that I'd be adding another September birthday to the family.
When a friend reached her due date, she announced she was treating the date like her birthday, as in she doesn't have to [insert chore] because it's her due date. Pretty much whatever she could get away with not doing, she wasn't doing. I have the same attitude, but I reached that point at 37 weeks. I'm sure that makes me come across as lazy or self-indulged, but the change in mind-set represents a big shift from what I'd been trying to do before, which was everything, without acknowledging that being pregnant with a full-term baby has its limits. Everything from chores to errands is more tiring when your body is working overtime and it's uncomfortable to move, and making dinner loses its appeal when nothing sounds appetizing and you can't do more than snack. So I finally gave myself permission to cut myself some slack.
Meanwhile, all there is to do is wait. I'm reasonably cool with that because I know everything is only going to get harder once the baby comes. However, the downsides of feeling like I'm in a holding pattern are that I find it difficult to make plans and I never know when I should be ready to go. I have a little circle of friends from my moms group who I feel comfortable making tentative plans with, which is a blessing, because they can cater to my energy level and Oliver gets some much-needed social time with other kids. At home I'm trying to stay on top of daily household chores. I'm find myself doing things like running a half-full dishwasher or washer because I'd prefer to have things as clean as possible when it's time to leave for the hospital....whenever that will be....
When a friend reached her due date, she announced she was treating the date like her birthday, as in she doesn't have to [insert chore] because it's her due date. Pretty much whatever she could get away with not doing, she wasn't doing. I have the same attitude, but I reached that point at 37 weeks. I'm sure that makes me come across as lazy or self-indulged, but the change in mind-set represents a big shift from what I'd been trying to do before, which was everything, without acknowledging that being pregnant with a full-term baby has its limits. Everything from chores to errands is more tiring when your body is working overtime and it's uncomfortable to move, and making dinner loses its appeal when nothing sounds appetizing and you can't do more than snack. So I finally gave myself permission to cut myself some slack.
Meanwhile, all there is to do is wait. I'm reasonably cool with that because I know everything is only going to get harder once the baby comes. However, the downsides of feeling like I'm in a holding pattern are that I find it difficult to make plans and I never know when I should be ready to go. I have a little circle of friends from my moms group who I feel comfortable making tentative plans with, which is a blessing, because they can cater to my energy level and Oliver gets some much-needed social time with other kids. At home I'm trying to stay on top of daily household chores. I'm find myself doing things like running a half-full dishwasher or washer because I'd prefer to have things as clean as possible when it's time to leave for the hospital....whenever that will be....
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