are you my moms?

the musings of yet another lesbian couple on the journey of mother(s)hood

Suck It, Cancer. December 11, 2014

Filed under: toddler — areyoumymoms @ 1:55 pm
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Dear Rigby,

Tonight as I write this, I’m on the other side of the country.  I haven’t been able to hold you, tickle you, or chase you in 4 days, and it’s torture.  I’m sitting in an airport, getting ready to board a flight that couldn’t possibly get me home to see you and mama soon enough.  I travel all the time for my job (you know…all those times you see my suitcase and say “bye-bye”), and you probably don’t even notice that I’m gone, since you and your mama have so much fun together.  But I notice, and I’ve noticed more on this trip than any other.

Being away from you and your mama right now is just not ok.  You see, Rigby, this week the world lost 2 beautiful souls.  I’ll say it right out loud: cancer can suck it.  I’m not sure how or when we’ll explain death to you.  I don’t really know how or when we learned about it.  But what splinters my heart into a million pieces is that you won’t remember the throaty bursts of Jane’s laughter or her buttery alto (uh…tenor) voice.  You won’t know that Tanya was all smiles…and trouble (the best kind).  These were two women who said what they meant and loved big.  And we’ll never forget them.

I suppose that’s what living through someone else’s death is about; the best thing we can do for those who have passed is to make sure they live on in people who loved them.  And part of that is teaching you about them.  I’m sure there’s more you should know, but right now, while it’s still more raw than I want to admit, here’s what I want to tell you:

Tanya was a character.  Beautiful inside and out, she left an impression on everyone she met.  She never pulled punches, even when she probably should have.   She smiled.  All the time.  Even when she was upset, she still wore a snarky, toothy grin on her face.  She was smart, caring, and compassionate.  Tanya would pass a stray dog and the next thing you knew, she was on her way to the pet store for a bed and some food, having absolutely no room for another pet, but no room in her heart to leave it behind.  I want you to learn from Tanya how simple it can be to do something nice for someone (human or animal) and turn their day around – or even their life.

Jane was bigger than life.  She was one of my musical soulmates.  You spent much of your first year listening to her sing, both in our house at her voice lessons and at Nunsense rehearsals.  And I know you loved her voice as a baby as much as I still long to hear it today.  And she surely loved you.  She was among the first people to know that we were trying to bring you into the world, and sometimes I think she, and others like her, willed you into being.  She held you before you were even one day old, and she loved watching you grow from that minute until her last.  Jane laughed easily, and was hands-down one of the funniest people I’ll ever know.  Learn from Jane that a song, a belly laugh, and a bear hug can make anything better.

Jane and Tanya were both fighters.  They endured chemo, radiation, and experimental treatments.  They prayed.  They sought as many opinions as they could.  One of the toughest lessons to take away from this is that sometimes you can give it your all and it just isn’t enough.  Tougher still?  You fight anyway.  You do it for the people you love and those who love you.

Jane’s repertoire has been the soundtrack to my life for the past several days.  Sometimes I hear her singing one of the art songs we worked on, other times I hear one of her favorite showtunes or a jazz number she sang with Amy & Larry.  But mostly it’s a number from Hairspray that she made her own:

There’s a road we’ve been travelin’,

Lost so many on the way.

But the riches will be plenty

Worth the risk and chances that we take.

There’s a dream in the future.

There’s a struggle that we have yet to win.

And there’s pride in my heart

‘Cause I know where I’m going and I know where I’ve been.

 

I’ll teach you this song someday.

Love always,

Mom

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Rigby’s Birthday Letter (#2) August 21, 2014

Filed under: Birthday,Rigby,toddler — areyoumymoms @ 4:04 pm
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Dear Rigby,

Well, it’s official.  You’re 2 years old.  I really can’t believe it.  I’m looking at the first picture I ever took of you – I was still being attended to by our wonderful doctor when I snapped this one of your mama holding you and smiling the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.  And in a little while, I’ll be sitting on the floor while you use me as a human jungle gym and tell me all about your day.

Last year I wrote to you about all the things you accomplished in your first year of life.  I hope to make that a tradition, though I’m sure eventually people will get sick of seeing it on the internet and I’ll just jot down a few bullet points on a post-it to save for your future spouse to laugh at.  In the meantime, here’s a look at year 2.  It’s been a good one:

  • People still talk about your hair.  And they think we’ve never had it cut.  This means they’ve never had to try to keep you distracted through an estimated 15 trips to the salon.
  • I’m always amazed by your smarts.  Before you turned 2, you could say your alphabet and you knew the letters and some full words by sight.  You can count to 10 (13 on a good day), point to about 10 body parts, and your favorite TV show is still Jeopardy.  I’ll take smarty-pants toddlers for $1000, Alex.
  • As smart as you are, you took your time finding your words.   You understood us early, and you babbled for months in a dialect that can only be called Rigbese.  But it wasn’t until you were just shy of your second birthday that you started reliably using words we could recognize.  The list of your first real words is pretty diverse: dog, apple, violin, please, thank you (you say “ta” like a sweet little British kid), flower, cookie, and house.  Once you started, the words came like a flood.  Every day I hear you say a word I didn’t know was in your vocabulary.
  • One of my favorite Rigbese words has been “BEEE-AAAHHH.”  No, you are not requesting a lager in Maine.  This is your word for please.  Don’t know why.  Don’t care.  It’s just cute.
  • One of my least favorite Rigbese words is “pettit.”  I can’t begin to figure out why, but this is your word for ball.  We still call it a ball.  And you must still think it starts with a “b” since you say “A – APPLE, B – PETTIT, C- CAT” etc. when reciting your abc’s.   Why?  Why on earth?  And when will you start using the real word?  For now I’m just going to assume some of the Baby Einstein lessons in Spanish have kicked in and you’re trying to say “pelota.”  Here’s hoping that by the time I write birthday letter #3, you’ll have moved on from that one…

    DOH!!!

    DOH!!!

  • You are a truly fearless world explorer.  I watch in horror as you run, climb, and generally plow your way through life without so much as blinking an eye.  Meanwhile, your mama just beams with pride.  I have learned so much from both of you in this regard.  You both remind me every day to approach life without fear and just to jump in.
  • Your adventurous ways are on full display when we’re at the beach, or any other fence-free environment.  You run barefoot through the yard, into the bushes, under trees, and out onto the sand, directly into the water.  And then you turn right around and run back the way you came without a care in the world.  Sorry about that time I was too busy taking action photos to prevent your face-plant.  Though I’m not sure you noticed; you never even batted an eye…just wiped the sand off your hands and kept on running.
  • This year you got sick for the first time.  (And before you readers start typing your comments, yes – we do know how truly blessed we are to have such a healthy boy.  We thank the stars every day.)  Once I realized that you weren’t seriously ill and started recognizing the signs of an impending up-chuck, everything was ok.  And I hate to say it, son, but it was better than ok.  For 4 days, you just wanted to lay with your mama and me.  We held you for hours in a way that we hadn’t been able to since you were a baby, and haven’t been able to do since.  I’d never wish that you were sick, but I know it’s going to happen.  And now I know what a special time that can be, and how warm it felt…not just your feverish little body melted into my arms, but how warm and just right it felt having you turn to us for comfort.
  • Whether it’s a new word (ahem…if you can say “fork,” you can use one), a random unsolicited hug around my neck, or when I walk in to wake you up in the morning and find that you’ve stripped off your pj’s, you still surprise me.  By the way, that includes the tantrums you now occasionally throw in public.  I’m never ready for those.
  • One of the most important lessons I learned from you this year is that Monsters, Inc. is a true story, or at least part of it is (if you haven’t seen it, watch it; I’m not going to apologize for “spoiling’ a 13-year-old movie).  Sully & Mike learn that a child’s laughter can supply the energy required to power all of Monstropolis.  And they’re right.  At the end of a day, no matter how long or frustrating it has been, I come home to you and mama.  When we sit on the floor and read books or play with Big Battery Drainer Elmo…I mean Big Hugs Elmo, your tiny voice energizes me.  When you crawl on me and make sweet little pretend snoring noises while we “nap,” I’m totally refreshed.  And when I get to exercise my right as your parent to find and take advantage of all your tickle spots, your uncontrollable giggling completely re-charges my battery.  It’s exhausting being a parent.  But just when I think I can’t go another step, your laugh pushes me on.  Thanks for that.

Rigby, you have changed who I am.  And what’s more, you’ve changed who I want to be.  I am forever better for having you around.  You’re my boy, blue.

Love Always,

Mom

 

 

Happy Birthday, Rigby August 30, 2013

Filed under: Rigby — areyoumymoms @ 5:07 pm
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Is it really possible that 2 years have gone by since I started writing this blog?  Hardly seems right.  Nor does it seem possible that an entire year has passed since I updated it.  But I digress…

Rigby is now 1 year old.  He’s a toddler.  A full-steam-ahead-don’t-get-in-my-way toddler.  And he’s by far the coolest kid I’ve ever encountered.  I figured that by the time we got through a year of his life, we’d be exhausted, snarky parents who take our time with him for granted.  I’m so glad to be wrong about that (well, we’ve always been able to teach a graduate course in “snarky” so that hasn’t really changed).  I’ve been trying to get back to this blog since just before his birthday.  There are so many things I want to say about his first year of life.  When he’s 18 and the Internet is accessed through some tiny screen in his retina, maybe he’ll take a look at his mom’s old blog. 

Rigby, if you’re reading, this one’s for you.

Dear Rigby,

You won’t remember the past year.  I can only hope that when you’re grown and I’m much, much older, I still will.  But just in case, here are some highlights of your first year on Earth:

  • Your hair made people smile from the minute you were born.  At 12 months and 2 weeks, you got your 4th haircut.  Rigby-1_2990_8x10
  • You slept through the night very early, which made me beam with pride and simultaneously bummed me out.  I knew your Mama wouldn’t be able to make it through all-nighters with you, but I was so ready for a year’s worth of midnight dream dates with my boy that I was almost disappointed when I started getting a decent night’s sleep.  Almost. 
  • You’ve never met a stranger.  Even when you’re a little shy at first, it only takes a few minutes for you to charm people with your sweet, toothy grin.
  • Lala is, as predicted, the best godmother ever.   
  • One night you choked on a piece of canteloupe and I wasn’t sure I’d make it.  I’m sure that by the time you read this, there will have been many more illnesses, injuries, and other scary events.  But to date, this one takes the cake.
  • Speaking of cake, you were surprisingly reserved at your first birthday party.  I was waiting to see your face covered in yellow cake and buttercream icing, but you just delicately picked at the sides until Mama and I helped you out.  I hope you’re still as tidy!
  • You love vegetables.  You love fruits.  You love just about any food we’ve let you try (ok, we were pushing the envelope with the lima beans).  So if you’re a picky eater now, snap out of it!  There was a time when you’d scarf down broccoli, zucchini, and could be convinced that peas were dessert.
  • You walked early.  We weren’t ready for that.  We were beyond proud that you took your first steps just a few days after you passed the 9-month mark.  And we do still brag on you.  But if you had waited just one more month, I wouldn’t have been mad.  Now you run.  Everywhere.  I completely understand what people mean when they refer to the “pitter-patter of little feet.”  The person who coined that phrase did so while trying to concentrate on something unrelated to the toddler who was doing laps around the house.
  • You have mastered the syllables “dada” and “dad.”  I realize they’re the easiest ones to say, but can we move on now?  We are Mama and Mom, not Dada and Dad.  I mean, come on!!!
  • Your Mama is transformed.  Her eyes haven’t stopped twinkling since the day you got here, and there’s no doubt she’s doing the job she was born for.  You are her shadow.  I know you will grow up to love playing in the yard, playing the guitar, and vacuuming.  I know this because you’re already doing all 3!
  • You have made me the person I’m supposed to be.  Through you, I am granted perspective on a daily basis.  You have taught me more about myself than I’ll ever be able to teach you.  But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to repay that favor.  I promise.

In short, you are a miracle, son.  Happy 1st Birthday.

Love,

Mom

 

The First 8 Weeks October 6, 2012

Filed under: Rigby — areyoumymoms @ 1:25 am
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It’s amazing how quickly a day can fly by, even when you’re awake for most of it.  I’ve meant to post something – anything – for weeks now and there just never seems to be time.  I’ve hated that the last thing you heard from me was a rant about my boobs.  So much has happened since I gave birth that it seems a shame to leave you thinking the only result of Rigby’s blessed arrival is that I now have a love/hate relationship with my tits.  To sum up our experiences over the last (almost) 8 weeks would be impossible…well, it would at least be a very long post.  So I’ll try to break it up into a few palatable chunks.  I’ve started drafts on a few different topics, so provided that his majesty is getting close to a nighttime sleep schedule, I’ll be posting soon on everything from our favorite baby-related products to why I wish we could all have babies in Canada.  First up, a little bit about our boy.

Our boy Rigby is special.  I know every child is special, and every parent thinks their kid hung the moon.  But I promise that if you held our son, you’d know what I’m talking about.  First, there’s the hair.  Rigby has more hair than most full-grown men.  It’s longer than MKL’s, and has highlights that my salon couldn’t replicate with all the chemicals and color wheels in their arsenal.  Not a public outing goes by when we don’t hear passersby giggling or complimenting his locks.  He makes people smile wherever he goes.  Just when you’ve gotten used to the wonder of his hair, he will throw a charming little grin your way and melt your heart.  And then there’s his temperament.  I want to disclose that typing this next sentence scares me…like I’m tipping my hand.  But here goes: Rigby is an exceedingly happy baby.  If he’s crying, something needs attention.  A crying Rigby is a hungry, wet, or tired Rigby.  He entertains himself already – kicking, playing, and talking to any high-contrast or noisy object set before him.  As everyone in our world meets him for the first time, we find ourselves repeating phrases like, “We’re not really sure where the hair came from, but we love it” and “Yep – for the most part, he’s always this good.”  Cute, healthy, happy.  Who could ever ask for more?

I’ve wanted a baby for a long time.  I’ve prayed for the day when I’d be folding tiny laundry, lugging a carrier around, and picking up toys as they seem to scatter themselves around the house.  I pictured bedtime, and saw myself checking on a sleeping infant, all tucked neatly into footie pajamas.  I wished for sleep-deprived feedings in the middle of the night – dream dates with my special girl or guy.  I spent hours imagining what it would be like to have all day to stare at a baby, to memorize his or her unique coos and cries, and to be one of the people a baby looks to for comfort.

All of these prayers have been answered, and then some.  These days my favorite pastime is staring into Rigby’s sweet face; my heart nearly bursts out of my chest when he smiles at me.  I do victory dances several times a day when I’m able to calm his cries, or can diagnose his need by watching how he twists and turns his body.  MKL and I swell with pride as our genius infant sees himself in a toy’s mirror reflection, or turns his head at the sound of our voices.  He changes and learns new skills every day; today – grabbing a rattle with his own little hands.  Tomorrow – splitting atoms.  Sometimes I swear I can hear Marlin Perkins’ voice in the background, as if Wild Kingdom is here to document the growth and development of this very special creature.

Fortunately, no Marlin.  That’d be awkward A) as he died when I was 10 and B) because my son is not a lemur.  But even better, MKL is all about a camera, and has been taking amazing pictures of our son.  At first I thought she was a little obsessed.  Adorable, but obsessed.  And then it occurred to me that pretty soon I’ll have to go back to work and I will rely on MKL to document any significant (or insignificant but cute) moment with Rigby.  I, like Steven Tyler, don’t wanna miss a thing.  [More about my acute fear of the end of maternity leave in a future post…I can’t face it tonight.]

About a week after Rigby was born, MKL and I celebrated our 10th anniversary.  In the last decade, we’ve been through our fair share of challenges.  We’ve come through it as stronger people and a healthier partnership in the end.  Our bff recently said that we adore one another so much that sometimes it’s painful to watch.  I didn’t realize that I could love someone or something more than I love MKL.  But I do.  Rigby fits into our life like a missing puzzle piece, and while having a child has brough us closer together and magnified our love for each other, I find that I love our little family more than I could ever love one person.  I can’t remember a time when he wasn’t here with us.  And I’m still not sure what I did to deserve this kind of bliss.

 

The Tit Monster August 29, 2012

Filed under: Hormones,Rigby,Uncategorized — areyoumymoms @ 3:55 pm
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Seriously, Mom? Again with the boobs?

I have two obsessions of late.  1 – in a word, Rigby.  And everything that makes him feel like home.  2 – in another word, boobs.  Mine, and their food-providing skills, to be precise.  Since the day we came home from the hospital, I have been at war with my breasts.  Some of you have just sighed and said, “I see where she’s going with this and that’s the whole problem…it’s not a war…her attitude is what is keeping this from happening.”  You may be right.  But I’m not sure who could’ve wanted it to work more than I did, and self-sabotage isn’t really my thing.  As it turns out, I have a milk supply issue.  So as with my natural birth plan, out the window goes my “exclusively breastfed baby” plan.  And in the process, I have become – as Charlene Frazier would say – the tit monster.  My very patient wife has had to listen to me try to process emotionally what was happening physically.  So has our bff, our mothers, a few friends, and my cousin.  And now you get to hear about it to.  Once I’ve said it this time, I think I’m done.  (That’d be a good thing to have happen the day before we visit the therapist.)  So with sincerest love and apologies in advance to my very natural friends who will most naturally frown on this story, here’s where I stand on breastfeeding.  And why we’re not.

I had latching problems in the hospital.  Some of these little struggles took place in full view of our visiting friends and family.  I think I had a pretty cool head about it, except for a 10-minute meltdown on our last day there.  I knew that establishing a good nursing relationship between Rigby and me would take some time and patience.  So I just tried to relax and “let it happen.”  I took in all the advice the nurses and lactation lady had to offer and planned to put it to good use.

And then we came home and I got this sinking feeling…this tiny child still depends on me for life just as much as he did when renting space in my womb.  I loved my time with him, set up in the nursery with the lullaby Nirvana playing.  At first he did really well.  He latched for 15-25 minutes at a time per side, and was ready to eat every few hours.  The first few days I didn’t really think much of it…he was giving all the feeding cues I’d read about.  His stomach is tiny, and breastfeeding at that age is just as much about bonding as it is about nourishment.  Awesome.  Except that somewhere along the line it turns into an issue of nourishment.  The baby has to eat.  MKL made a wise decision to start supplementing with formula after a particularly long and futile attempt at nursing one night.  I’d still offer the breast with the bottle to keep stimulating milk production, but at least he was getting something in his belly.  And then came the screaming and chest-pounding phase.  Those were a dark 48 hours.  He’d latch for a few minutes and then start to cry and beat his fists against my chest.  I tried to stay light-hearted…even made a few “we are not Celine Dion” jokes.  But we could tell something was wrong, and it was starting to take a toll on my psyche.  As nutty as it sounds, it was hard not to take it personally.  Like he just didn’t have a taste for his mom.

Everyone says breastfeeding is the most natural thing a woman’s body can do.  Not so for me.  I, apparently, needed some instruction.  I was ok with that.  I had talked with friends who told me not to get discouraged.  They told me to use my resources and ask for help.  So I did.  I read every book and website on how to stimulate milk production and then called in the big guns: a home consultation with a lactation specialist recommended by our hospital and pediatrician.  Late last week a polo-sporting, ponytailed soccer mom arrived at my door for a 3-hour discussion of my 100% sure shot at being able to feed our child on my own.  Rigby got weighed and had his mouth examined (I tried not to take offense when she maligned my son’s frenulum.  Frenulua – actually – she managed to insult both of them.); we did an observed feeding, and then he got weighed again.  I was examined, lectured, and instructed to within an inch of my life.  I was admonished for referring to the breast pump as a “medieval torture device.” And yet when she left I felt somewhat more confident about the chances that Rigby and I would eventually get on the same page.  For awhile things started to look up.  We were doing great on the supplement feeder tube and I was faithfully pumping away…despite feeling like a dairy cow.

By the time a woman has been pregnant and given birth, she has every right to claim her body as her own, and trust the signs it sends her.  Mine was telling me, not so subtly, that the milk I wanted to feed our child would not be arriving anytime soon.  My first clue?  My boobs never got big!  As a matter of fact, as I began to lose a little baby weight and was pumping them both for 2-3 hours per day, they were shrinking.  Sore and shrinking.  I can’t think of any two adjectives I’m less eager to associate with my breasts.  There was no getting around it – these boobs are merely ornamental; kinda like my left hand – pretty, part of the overall ensemble, but not the least bit functional.

I’m quite sure that I could’ve done more to get the milk to come in.  Teas, herbs, another trip to the acupuncturist, etc.  But in truth, the whole thing was putting entirely too much stress on me and on our household.  Feedings went from a beautiful bonding time between Rigby and me to a “feed and pump” routine that I had to do 8-10 times per day.  The pumping (intended to stimulate milk) produced nothing, and I began to see a decline in my supply.  Here’s where it gets a little bratty, folks: Frankly, I feel some sense of entitlement when it comes to making a decision that doesn’t involve a whole set of “extras.”  We’ve already done hormone pills, shots, extra ultrasounds, ovulation predictors, acupuncture, herbs, and 8 individual inseminations to get here – not to mention 8 weeks of mid-pregnancy bleeding.  If my body is telling me not to nurse, so be it.  I will relax and go mix some powder and water.  I was raised on a bottle and so was MKL.  Rigby will do just fine.  He’s perfectly healthy and a much happier kid now that he is getting more to eat.  Peace and order have restored to our house, and that makes the whole thing worth it to me.

The pediatrician asked me yesterday if I’m sad about our decision.  And if I’d made it to the end of this post yesterday, I’d probably have said yes.  Absolutely.  I hate being wrong.  I hate quitting.  I hate failing.  I hate that we’ll miss out on all the health benefits of breastfeeding.  I hate that I no longer have an excuse to walk around topless, and that my breasts are still the less-than-impressive rack they’ve always been, instead of those awesome plumped-up new-mommy boobs I’d been looking forward to.  Fortunately today feels a little different.  I’m able to sit back and focus on the dreamy little face currently fart-grinning from the bouncy seat.  You know…this one…the face that melts my heart a hundred times an hour.

Eventually we’ll teach him to buy locally sourced food whenever he can.  For now, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care where his food comes from – just that it’s delivered with love by his moms.

 

Introducing Rigby August 21, 2012

Filed under: Rigby — areyoumymoms @ 11:36 pm
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With apologies for the delay, I am thrilled to introduce you all to our son, Rigby.   He was born Tuesday August 14th at 7:21pm, weiging in at 7lbs, 15 oz.

There are not words enough to describe the love that filled our hearts as soon as we saw him.  So for now I’ll just focus on the details of his arrival.

I checked into the hospital Monday evening, with MKL by my side, to have my cervix softened.  Cramping started through the night, but thanks to the angel nurse who gave me an ambien, I actually got 3 hours of sleep.  At 6:00 the next morning that same angel came in to start pitocin, a drug designed to kickstart uterine contractions.  It works, by the way.  Contractions were under way within 30 minutes of the initial dose.  I’d read that pitocin can make labor more intense, and even my doctor confirmed as much at our last appointment.  But given that I had never been through it before I figured what I didn’t know wouldn’t affect me.  I had planned to attempt labor without the aid of pain meds or an epidural, at least as far as I could make it.  After 8 hours, I finally gave in and asked politely for a needle in my back (well, that’s how I choose to remember it…in reality I believe I screamed something like, “tell Doc to cut me open or give me an epidural – NOW!!!”).  At the time that I got the epidural I was still only dilated 2 cm.  I repeat…2 cm.  That’s only 1 cm more than my first cervical check several weeks prior.  Both the doctor and I thought we were headed for a c-section.  However, pain control is a magical thing.  Apparently that delicious catheter in my back was just what I needed to calm down and let my body do what it was supposed to all along.  I took a brief nap, and when I woke up I was at 8 cm.  Next thing I knew I was at 10 and it was time to push.  30 minutes later, he was out and our lives changed forever.  What took months upon years to create took only 13 hours to bring into the world.

I’ll continue to update with more info about our beautiful boy as we sink into a routine and I find time to get to the computer.  But suffice it to say for now that we are absolutely head over heels in love.

 

The Final Countdown…Part 2 August 10, 2012

Filed under: 3rd Trimester,Uncategorized — areyoumymoms @ 1:42 pm
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15 days before our due date, I declared that we were in the midst of The Final Countdown.

Right.

So it has now been 5 days since our due date.  I know that most first babies are late, but I had really hoped to beat the odds.  Oh well.  I’ve been to the doctor twice this week and we’ve determined that if I don’t go into labor naturally before then, I’ll go to the hospital Monday evening for an induction on Tuesday.  If by mid-afternoon on Tuesday we don’t have a baby, they’ll do a c-section.  Birth plan, schmirth plan.

I’ve been surprised at the number of women who have opinions on induction, and have been grateful to hear all of them so that we can make an informed decision.  At first it didn’t occur to me that I would have any resistance to being induced, but the more I read and heard, the more concerned I got.  I wasn’t thrilled to read that pitocin can make contractions more intense, nor that it would confine me to the bed.  It’s not that I want to complete a triathlon while in labor; I just want to be able to walk around, use a birthing ball, get in the shower, etc., to help manage the pain.  Staying in the bed will undoubtedly make things a little more difficult and will probably increase the odds that I’ll have some kind of pain meds or an epidural.  After yesterday’s appointment with our favorite doctor and some time on the fetal monitor, we got a lot of our questions answered and I’m a little more comfortable with the process.  Having said that, I’m still doing all I can to prompt a natural labor before then.

Today marks my second day of maternity leave.  My work family has been extraordinarily supportive throughout the last 9 months.  They’ve known MKL and me for a decade or more and are as excited as we are to welcome this baby.  While I love them all a lot, I’m ready to take one colleague’s advice and rest for awhile before our lives change forever.  And that’s why the drive home from work on Wednesday caught me so by surprise: I cried the whole way home.  Hormones?  Surely.  But there was definitely more to it than that.  By later than evening I had figured out what the problem was.  I know I’m really good at my job – it’s a bit of a security blanket for me.  I’ve been there for 13 years and am usually confident that I can solve any problem or answer any question that comes my way.  As I drove home, I realized that I’m about to step into a whole new job.  For 3 months (uh…18 years) I’ll be completely out of my comfort zone.  What if I’m not good at this job?  I can’t put a baby in a spreadsheet, or sell it on breastfeeding with a powerpoint presentation.  And it hit me that I’m nervous and scared.  Still excited, still unreasonably in love with this child I haven’t met yet.  But scared out of my mind.

Scared or not, this baby’s coming soon.  If not before then, our little monkey will be here in 4 days.  I’ve found that if I focus on that day instead of what happens when we’re home and my new job as a mother begins, the fear goes away and I’m just excited and happy.  And ready.  Hear that, baby?  We’re ready…COME OUT ALREADY!!!

 

 
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