I danced around in the kitchen to Florence & the Machine this morning as I fixed breakfast for me and the boys. For some reason, her music reminds me of my younger, carefree days. The boys just kindof looked at me for a bit, but grinned as I grabbed each of them in turn & danced around.
Those are the types of memories I want them to have. Dancing in the kitchen with mom on a random Monday.
Funny enough, I got a call from the hospital today asking how things went while we were there. So I told the lady how great the nurses in the NICU were. How kind and caring. How they did their best to make sure I could see my boy as often as possible. They always had a rocking chair ready to go so I could hold and nurse my boy.
It was getting my son released from the NICU that was the problem. It took about eight hours longer than it should have. Hours in my new son’s life that I’ll not get back. His first 48+ hours in which I should have been with him constantly. And I wasn’t. He needed medical care and I’m so grateful that he got it. But those extra hours of waiting were unnecessary. And yes, I’m still a little bit angry about it.
There’s more to it, and I will get around to telling the story. But right now I need to find a way to move on. It’s over. Done. I can’t change it. I need to focus on spending time with both of my sons, not getting angry about something I can’t change.
But at least I was able to tell my story to someone at the hospital. And hopefully it’ll change for the next mom whose baby graduates from the NICU during a very busy time.
Dear Son,
Today you are three years old. It’s hard for me to believe it has already been three whole years since you joined us. You have brought so much joy and light into our lives. You’re funny. You’ll do just about anything for a laugh. You’re charming. That grin where you wrinkle your nose and squint your eyes is so very cute (but I’m on to you). You’re silly. You love to stand on your head and look at things, or use the wrong end of the binoculars to view your world. You’re sweet. There’s nothing better than hugs and kisses from you.
You are my little buddy. We’re together day after day, just the two of us until daddy gets home from work. You’re my constant companion. You keep me company. You want me to play cars all the time. You stand in my chair and run cars on my head while I type away at the computer. You give the best nose rubs and hugs. I hope you always have a special place in your heart for mommy.
You love to help. I hope you’ll love helping with your little brother. I don’t quite think you understand yet what it means. And I hope that it only brings you joy when we arrive home with him just days after your birthday. You and your brother will be exactly 3 years, 1 day apart. But I hope that you’ll always be good buddies.
I love you so much, little buddy. That will never change, even as we move into a new dynamic with our family. Happy 3rd birthday, little man. I cherish these years with you. I hope you do, too.
Always,
Mama
My son has been a little more clingy recently. He stands right next to my chair when I’m working. He’s constantly leaning on me. Or climbing into my chair and standing just behind my shoulder. Or crawling up into my lap.
He knows something’s going on. And that time is short.
It is short. As of Tuesday (the 19th – I started writing this earlier in the week) I have less than FIVE WEEKS to get ready for Baby M’s appearance. I still haven’t dug any of the supplies out of the garage. We have a few diapers on hand. My Moby wrap is in the closet but probably needs to be washed. The bed is still in the garage. Everything is. On top of that we have a ton of other laundry to get caught up on. I am so far behind it isn’t funny. I wish I could take a week off of work to prepare, but we can’t afford that right now.
Nesting? Yes. Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy that accompanies my long lists of what needs to be done.
Back to the boy. He’s grabbing as much mommy time as he can. No complaints here. Mostly. I love it, even as I’m stressing about the work I’m not getting done because he wants to visit my lap repeatedly throughout the day. Soon we won’t have the together time that we do now. Soon he won’t want hugs and kisses from mommy. Soon I’ll be too busy nursing his little brother to cuddle every morning while he watches Elmo’s World. And as much as I’m looking forward to meeting little M, it breaks my heart that I’ll lose the time where it has just been me and the Boobah. I will miss this, even as I anticipate all the good to come.
We’ve hit the 28 week marker. Time has moved so slowly I thought that I’d never get here. And now it’s third trimester time. Did I hit the uncomfortable stage of things this soon last time? I don’t remember. I’m already having trouble breathing and eating – where’d all the space go? At my last appointment, I was measuring a week ahead already. That prompted my doctor to go ahead and schedule a c-section.
Unfortunately, Thanksgiving gets in the way. And that means dates are limited, especially since I don’t want to go in on my other son’s birthday. I refuse to have two birthdays on the same day if I can avoid it.
So the doctor scheduled it the day after. Sigh. I don’t care about being in the hospital on Thanksgiving. I really don’t. But I am frustrated that I’m limited to two days just before then AND the doc chooses the 23rd. Why couldn’t he schedule it on the 24th and at least give us a day in between?
And don’t get me started on feeling like my choices have been taken away. My original due date was 11/29. But based on conception date, I know that’s early by at least 3 days. I didn’t get a chance to give him those details (and would he listen anyway?). Because of my gestational diabetes, he doesn’t want me to go to my due date. In fact, he apparently doesn’t want me to get too close to that since it’s possible my son will be big.
Let’s face it. i have a big family. I don’t think it has a lot to do with diabetes. We’re just big people. My other son was 9 lbs. 10 oz. My uncle was either 10 or 11 lbs. when he was born. Another uncle, other side of the family, was somewhere in the 6′ 6″ range as an adult. My hubby is 6′ 2″ See? Big people.
If I’m “lucky” I’ll go into labor on my own. But since the c-section is a week early and my last son was late, that’s not looking likely.
I was really angry and upset when I first got the news. Now I just feel resigned to it. The ultimate goal is a healthy baby and mommy, no matter how we get there. I just really hate feeling that my choices are limited. I was really hoping this pregnancy would be different. Instead we’re hearing the same tune just three years later.
And that’s part of why I’ve been avoiding much personal blogging. It all turns into angry rants or whining. And who really cares? It could be much worse. At least I’m not in the hospital on bed rest, unable to work or take care of my son.
One thing I’m dreading is caring for my older son while trying to recover from a c-section. Did I mention that he weighs 44 lbs.? Yeah, there will be no lifting him out of the crib in the mornings. Which is one reason why my husband is pushing to get him a toddler bed – one that he can crawl in & out of. (That still won’t help with diaper changes, though, which we do on our waist-high bed.)
I’m a mess. Have been the entire pregnancy. Worried about money. About how I’ll care for two kids at home by myself. How my older son will react to mommy’s attention going to the wee babe. How I’ll miss this wonderful time with my older son. We are such good buddies. Man, I love that little guy. But I don’t want to write a bunch of anxiety down, lest my younger son someday think he wasn’t wanted. He really is. So much so. But I haven’t done anything to prepare for his arrival — which is now ELEVEN weeks away thanks to the surgery — nor have I taken more than 2 weekly belly pics. Last time? Took a ton. This time? Not many. I wonder how I’ll give both of them adequate attention when I don’t even feel like I give ONE child enough attention (thanks to having to work so many dang hours – another story in itself).
See? Even I don’t want to listen to me anymore. Hence posts about anything or everything except my pregnancy. Or nothing at all.
I suppose I could write about how much I loathe both of my downstairs neighbors right now, BOTH of whom are doing remodeling. I hate it with a burning passion of a thousand fiery suns. Wouldn’t you think it would be, I don’t know, courteous to let your neighbors know that you’ll be starting some noisy remodeling? Especially those that you KNOW have small children? Yeah, none of that. I hate this place. Hence my looking for a 2 BR closer to hubby’s work. But those are way out of our price range. Actually, EVERYTHING is out of our price range. And I feel trapped. Another source of anxiety.
I really hope all of my stress doesn’t affect the wee babe, too much. But it probably has considering that it affects my eating and blood sugar numbers. See? Mommy fail AGAIN. I just want this to be over with so we can go visit my family and decompress for a month or so. Really hoping that helps. I need a break. I need to stop worrying about money, living quarters, my car that’s going to need a lot of work soon, working too hard for too little… I need something. I just wish I knew what it was.
And suddenly, here we are at the (almost) halfway mark in this pregnancy. Tomorrow we find out whether this wee little one is going to make me more outnumbered, or even things back up a bit.
I am so excited about this appointment – I can’t wait to see if my instincts are correct.
Time has dragged on during these first few months of pregnancy. I’m not busy in the same way I was three years ago. At that point, I was working full-time, going to school full-time, and somehow trying to fit in lots of homework. I don’t even know how I made it through all of that. It’s all I can do right now to stay awake more than four hours at a time.
I think I’m actually looking forward to that energy boost that comes from nesting. I could use it right now.
I could talk about why I haven’t been around much, but it mostly involves a lot of whining about how hard this has been on my body, and how I’ve wasted any thoughts that might develop into a full post by busily twittering and facebooking. So.
Enough of that. Let’s see if I can find something interesting to complain about. I think I’ll have to get back to you on that. But I have done some cool things in the last month or so that I’ll try to dredge out of my brain and onto paper. Ooooh, doesn’t that sound exciting? Wait, where are you going?
I took off this afternoon for a little out-of-the-house and alone time. It was sorely needed. I haven’t been out of the house much this week and the one time I was? Doctor’s appointment. And I had to get right back because the boy was with Daddy.
But this afternoon, just before the boy woke up from his nap, I took off. Ran a few errands. Perused Michael’s and the bookstore. And then I picked up dinner and went back home to be with my guys.
A little saner, a little refreshed.
After I walked in the door, the boy was nowhere to be found. Turns out he was playing in the bedroom and didn’t know I was home. After I put down all of my stuff, I called to him.
He came careening out of the bedroom with a huge smile on his face. He ran up to me and I expected him to fling himself around my legs. But he grabbed my hand to lead me back to where he was so he could show me what he’d been doing. And then he wanted to play on our bed (which he loves).
His laughter and smile were the perfect welcome home.
You know how motherhood sometimes just chews you up and spits you out?
Today is one of those days.
Okay, mothers. I’m a little miffed at you.
You and your secrets. Oh yeah, you tried to help me by telling me a few secrets here and there, things you swore no one talked about. The underbelly of motherhood. Things to watch for, things to help me keep my sanity.
But not one of you mentioned this. And I think I’m holding just a little bit of a grudge.
I heard that my body would change after childbirth. Of course it does! Things rearrange, get a little softer, a little saggier.
But not one of you told me how differently I would gain weight after having the Boobah. Are you feeling guilty yet? Well, doggone it, you should!
First, I had no idea it would be so freakin’ easy to gain weight. I lost weight pretty rapidly after the baby was born, and even kept it off for a while. But gradually, insidiously, it snuck back. All of it. And then some. I weigh as much as I did when I was 9 months pregnant. Heck, I probably look pregnant.
I am not happy about this.
Yet this is the worst part for me. It’s where I gain weight. I used to gain it low, in my abdomen. Now, it’s my abdomen, lower, higher, on the sides, on my back. THIS IS NOT FAIR. The weight is uncomfortable. It throws me off kilter. Makes me tired. Cranky. Unattractive.
Part of it is my activity level. And eating habits. I know that. But it is so much harder to motivate myself when I’m so stinking tired all of the time! Oh, and I hate to run. Hate it. I’m happy for you if you like it. It’s just not my thing. Not my bag, baby.
Walking, though, I can handle. So I am. I walked for 50 minutes today, and I’m going to try to do at least half that as often as possible. Because my back can’t handle the extra weight. My knees. And my eyes, when I look in the mirror.
And you moms are on notice. If there’s anything else you’ve neglected to share, you better spill now. Because this weight makes me cranky, too. And you won’t like me when I’m cranky.
Things my child has hit me with recently and the injuries I sustained:
Blocks
He loves to pound on everything, and unfortunately my face is sometimes a little too close. Results: several fat lips.
Sippy cups
I get hit with these at least once a day. Most of the time I manage to dodge, or at least keep my glasses from getting broken. My cheek has been bruised more times than I can count.
Feet
My son LOVES to kick when he’s lying on his back. Especially during diaper changes. Results: many pummelings in my stomach. And occasionally my legs. I think he left a bruise on my thigh. This kid is STRONG. I don’t mind it so much when we’re lying down and he does that to my back. I just need to teach him when it’s okay. 
His head
This is the most damaging weapon. He bruised my nose this morning and I still have a headache from that. He cracked the side of my head with the back of his a few days ago and my ear is still sore where it got crushed between his head and my glasses. Fat lips galore. Many head bruises. And he’s only recently started to stiffen up and throw himself backwards. Hence the rapid increase of head injuries. For me. Doesn’t seem to bother him much at all.
I think my son may be trying to kill or maim me. How much do you think his father paid him?
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