tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46123766428522845392024-02-19T16:16:15.339-06:00A Baby is BrewingKatiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-91870032444742025922011-06-13T14:12:00.002-05:002011-06-13T14:32:49.311-05:00Beautiful BabyWhen you have baby, while it's still brewing, you imagine who it will look like. It's hard to imagine who's features it will inherit. <br />You begin to think of a baby with your eyes, your husband's hair and grandmother's nose. A sprinkling of your dad's intelligence and your mother's sense of humor. <br /><br />I read that a baby is 50% its parent's DNA, with the other 50% made up of its grandparent's and great grandparent's. So, it's going to look like its parents, but it also has 1/8th chance of looking like your grandmother!<br /><br />Regardless of the time you spend imagining your baby's particular features, what comes out is always a surprise. In my case, my baby came out looking like my brother! Now, as she gets older, I see bits of me, bits of baby pictures of my brother. Sometimes, she makes faces that remind me of her daddy. But, overall....all of those things don't matter. I look at her skin and her fingers and her arms and the curve of her nose and I see the most beautiful thing I have ever laid my eyes on. I'm amazed at the smoothness of her skin, her green eyes, her fabulous leg rolls and the redness of her hair.<br /><br />I don't know where she got each of those characteristics individually and don't really care. I know that whoever she looks most like is irrelevant, being that she's a perfect combination of my family and my husband's family. The best of both have been put together to make my baby.<br /><br />I know I sound biased (I am) and maybe a little conceited about my baby's beauty (I am) but every mother looks at her baby with eyes that see a beauty like no other.<br /><br />My baby is my little angel and she's changed my life. She's helped me be at peace with my world, even if the world we live in is in chaos. She's helped me see beauty in small things and I love to imagine living life every day where every experience is a new experience, every face is a new land to explore and every sound is like hearing your favorite song at the right time. She's made me much more patient - a feat she should be sainted for - with each day and people and situations outside of my control. She's helped me relinquish control ...<br /><br />I don't know what I'd be doing today if I had decided not to have children. And I thought about it. I am eternally thankful that whatever unreasonable part of my mind won out during that time and I have her here with me now.<br /><br />I wouldn't change it for the world.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-77540360401713607212011-05-30T23:31:00.003-05:002011-05-30T23:38:11.747-05:00A year keeps getting closer.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5q6YHRGQiEHwls3jC0ODk6XLYax2HTNvipUz-elpXkhvmog3INDPaPF-9DUtElgBzd0m1TumMMvNh35o7V_8a_Pptm9DmAaYUgDcop7Q_8Iv7blKGoDaD3qkUIa-dryR7LLzmUalDN1bI/s1600/P1040370.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5q6YHRGQiEHwls3jC0ODk6XLYax2HTNvipUz-elpXkhvmog3INDPaPF-9DUtElgBzd0m1TumMMvNh35o7V_8a_Pptm9DmAaYUgDcop7Q_8Iv7blKGoDaD3qkUIa-dryR7LLzmUalDN1bI/s320/P1040370.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612734924803807298" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPyJafQtK5C7heMK6FPTf9PCt8JGILTUeVY5IxKfGIyHGdPMZQzwIFW3tKHL0n9QdxA4E36SdIgait758H8RPMFn3PB5erYmpEPfy8sqAhHLPWwVwrqzz3f_w85Au0Q68JA1CLwcZrblU/s1600/P1040427.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtPyJafQtK5C7heMK6FPTf9PCt8JGILTUeVY5IxKfGIyHGdPMZQzwIFW3tKHL0n9QdxA4E36SdIgait758H8RPMFn3PB5erYmpEPfy8sqAhHLPWwVwrqzz3f_w85Au0Q68JA1CLwcZrblU/s320/P1040427.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5612734920903411218" /></a><br />I was bathing my baby tonight, looking at her body. Her arms, legs and head. Her shoulder blades moving as she splashed. Her ears, her toes and hands. Every little thing she did.<br /><br />I was amazed. I sat in awe watching as she lived her little life with her duck. Splashing, babbling and trying to sit up in her little tub.<br /><br />I am consistently overwhelmed with emotion when looking at her, or even thinking of her. What an amazing experience.<br /><br />She is an amazing experience. The best thing I have ever done.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-50130960604230350842011-05-07T13:36:00.006-05:002011-05-07T14:43:42.064-05:00Milestones...Well, it's official. I'm a bad blogger.<br /><br />I know how long its been. I'm sorry.<br /><br /><br />As usual, so much has happened! I wish that I could accurately remember all of the things, but I probably won't be able to...plus I kind of micro-blog on Facebook, neglecting this one.<br /><br /><br />We've been busy. And sick. And sick and busy.<br /><br />Maggie started daycare at the beginning of April and has been to the pediatrician once a week since. The only thing I can be thankful for when I drop her off and see all of those slimy faces is that she's building up her immunities. I could possibly say that she's building up her immunities in general living in Houma, but that might not be the nicest thing I've ever said.<br /><br /><br />We came home for Easter, spending it at Mimi's house. The Easter Bunny was really nice to Isabella and Maggie. They even got matching outfits and stuffed animals. Well, Isabella got a duck - which she named Alex - and Maggie got a lamb, but they match because both animals are bigger than the girls. haha<br /><br />We dyed Easter eggs with Isabella. I'm not sure if she had before, but it was a first at our house. Thankfully, I had the foresight to do it under the carport. Unluckily, I didn't remember to take a single picture. It was so fun. You'll just have to take my word for it.<br /><br />At first, I'm not sure Izzy really knew what was happening. "Why do we have to put those things in the water?" "How long do we have to wait?" "Are these eggs cooked?" "If I drop one, will it break?"<br /><br />Once she got the hang of it, and saw that putting the eggs - yes, cooked - into the colored water produced colored eggs, she quickly caught on. She dyed every egg, every single color. She even dyed her fingers, her toes and her clothes! <br /><br />After we dyed all the eggs, I suggested we go to the park to hide them. I really wanted Izzy to have her Easter Bunny gifts, but wasn't sure how to get them to her. Then, it came to me....I would pretend that the Easter Bunny swung by early and ring the doorbell. I quickly unwrapped her little trinkets and placed them by the front door. Isabella was cluelessly helping her daddy cluelessly get Maggie ready for the park.<br /><br />I rang the doorbell and slammed the door and yelled for Izzy. She came running in and I told her the Easter Bunny came. I wish I could have had the look on her face on camera. But, I don't. Poor you. She didn't even care about her goodies...she ran in to Maggie's room, screaming for her daddy to come and see the Easter Bunny! He came early! He got our secret letter (the one that Daddy dropped off asking the Bunny if he could come a week early)!!! It was really, really awesome. I was pretty proud of myself.<br /><br />Then, I headed off to the park to hide the eggs. Hiding eggs is really hard when you're trying to do it for a 3 1/2 year old. You don't want to make it too obvious, so its exciting, but you can't make it too hard so they don't get discouraged. I mixed it up a little. Izzy had a blast, either way.<br /><br />I called my mom the next day to tell her about our day and she asked "Was Izzy excited to hunt eggs?" Let me tell you, the entire neighborhood knew when she found an egg! If they didn't hear her screaming, then they heard the cracking, crashing sound the egg made when she tossed it into her net. Yes, she hunted eggs with a net.<br /><br /><br />I don't know how we are going to top this Easter, but I bet we can just repeat the steps above for the next 3 years and she'd be fine with it.<br /><br /><br />Maggie was oblivious to the fact it was Easter and just enjoyed watching her sister do everything, as usual.<br /><br /><br />So, to allude to the name of the blog....Maggie has been up to stuff! It all started when she laughed for the first time. I'll never forget it. I cried! (No surprise, right?)<br /><br />I tried for weeks afterward for her to laugh again, with no luck until recently. Now, she's laughing regualrly and enjoys tickles. :)<br /><br />She is also sitting up! That's pretty fun and adds another dimension to our photo shoots. She's only fallen on her face once. Let's hope she never does that again. It was very hard for me.<br /><br />And, as if laughing and sitting up weren't enough, she ate BANANAS for the first time! She really liked them. Who wouldn't??? I did. She also got to try avocado a few days later. Let's just say that we're going to wait a while before she tries that one again.<br /><br />I guess the bananas gave her some extra pep, because just 2 days later she rolled over for the first time! She's six months old and growing so fast. I don't want her to be a tiny baby again, but I want time to slow down!!<br /><br /><br />I spent the morning making baby food. I think I did a pretty good job. I've got all the carrots, sweet potatoes and winter squash we'll need for at least 2 months. I know she'll really like those....and then I'll add the avocado to some banana or something. I need to ripen my pears a bit more, or I'd have pear puree too! It was really fun!!<br /><br />That's about all I have to say. Maybe, if you are really nice to me and tell me how much you love my updates, I might be motivated to write more. I can't tell if anyone even reads this anymore.<br /><br />So, here you go....the reason why you come here in the first place: Pictures!!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6s_BTyohxctIsTVuR88qF8erwONxlQeXppwKbZkof59KEpNj4qxooWa1gsbRahy2gtUdWfVi6jH2nCp7sxWXMqW7ROJv67g0F2GGLbQ8ug_weS4PRpHgBErYw39yMY5xuXhNlXs8o0wT4/s1600/2011-04-23_09-36-31_961.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6s_BTyohxctIsTVuR88qF8erwONxlQeXppwKbZkof59KEpNj4qxooWa1gsbRahy2gtUdWfVi6jH2nCp7sxWXMqW7ROJv67g0F2GGLbQ8ug_weS4PRpHgBErYw39yMY5xuXhNlXs8o0wT4/s320/2011-04-23_09-36-31_961.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604052065639498338" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_UeJXZ6DX-cktBBFswJ6GcjA1UcOLST119wTHWoeMQM1Q0ps7EkIlEh5P19B4Ecrhv2DJVZ5JoVD8QX7iD49yrRGNuH58EvDeeuBeDR3LIMzI1bZrsUGUHSPpiW-5A0oHDtB_zdyWzEz/s1600/2011-04-20_18-15-39_220.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4_UeJXZ6DX-cktBBFswJ6GcjA1UcOLST119wTHWoeMQM1Q0ps7EkIlEh5P19B4Ecrhv2DJVZ5JoVD8QX7iD49yrRGNuH58EvDeeuBeDR3LIMzI1bZrsUGUHSPpiW-5A0oHDtB_zdyWzEz/s320/2011-04-20_18-15-39_220.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604052059392080338" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3sbttpAaamMzbhY5W41X7B3V06LQVuGkuIJYM6vUc5YuZnSkM0l4-OmmCv2DsA_xGVc6VcgCo3X9gcgwgXGhNGVL9uTueX5_p_gRuMH8OedVssq6USGuhrrNx9jBVjuiJ0E9yPc5NoYTZ/s1600/2011-04-16_10-33-23_148.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3sbttpAaamMzbhY5W41X7B3V06LQVuGkuIJYM6vUc5YuZnSkM0l4-OmmCv2DsA_xGVc6VcgCo3X9gcgwgXGhNGVL9uTueX5_p_gRuMH8OedVssq6USGuhrrNx9jBVjuiJ0E9yPc5NoYTZ/s320/2011-04-16_10-33-23_148.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604052057333922194" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKMlgqRnisrLC_BcLY03X8XWdqKjZoPxFr1P2St-GJE3E7XNaCaeYhqs4s1uDF-JieHHGJOTzAeklUmnJRjzTvMJ5Wcni3pdyyBHzoUJ366pBa9w_W8ktDroaqfKtdsDXx6wfz2CezwiE/s1600/2011-04-16_10-26-48_364.jpg"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdjmoLhpQxfufr_Ign91CjN971cBIuNXgwj-SB-Cuor_7ixR8vS5Zva9cfbowARTTueX2I_E4gEvkFWri1SCYm3Y1HnYqXrarYPyYVBG_MHIKR3eS2Gtm22C-Fz9Pyj51i9V1YKmvD1u3p/s320/2011-04-23_13-53-06_780.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604054160127131666" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguhRNQhLH7hIAC-EtKPZEy5sVIlTZnJGtaKzy0cnqWF__Bx1U5qMRmhdZsV0KaonrXx_ZueTdw0Pd0qJ8DCcieUbUH7Pe958Jf3eSOiG72CPeCvBiLgij5cWyM-OGWymPA4YXZxm4edvqe/s1600/1302473195681.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguhRNQhLH7hIAC-EtKPZEy5sVIlTZnJGtaKzy0cnqWF__Bx1U5qMRmhdZsV0KaonrXx_ZueTdw0Pd0qJ8DCcieUbUH7Pe958Jf3eSOiG72CPeCvBiLgij5cWyM-OGWymPA4YXZxm4edvqe/s320/1302473195681.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604054153136346146" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzTF9X9kGjSC362EuSRtZz9cY9kG2oG10a_-MGlYGc0OegSmUGRhWix0pDZkvAQkgS5PNmD7amKvjHn_Yl8b_pPuNWllW8Y31oZCW15BJuCUS_V8NjLSjeoEFsLB3uduUh1TKmMpEra6S/s1600/2011-04-23_13-51-52_372.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 239px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihzTF9X9kGjSC362EuSRtZz9cY9kG2oG10a_-MGlYGc0OegSmUGRhWix0pDZkvAQkgS5PNmD7amKvjHn_Yl8b_pPuNWllW8Y31oZCW15BJuCUS_V8NjLSjeoEFsLB3uduUh1TKmMpEra6S/s320/2011-04-23_13-51-52_372.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604054085115768818" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpCTqhRqRX6RyM26Rc0AHQ-8dli-6UQQQKeqR_8yUfB_6NIPcc6AsQ1QEFsdGrUF_fvC20sOxsY1kGskJYVHtdvwUCvGdFUlNSiuk-dcRQULQiIgRIl4viCS2PZNWqnlwnW00sK1NnYXy/s1600/P1040308.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxpCTqhRqRX6RyM26Rc0AHQ-8dli-6UQQQKeqR_8yUfB_6NIPcc6AsQ1QEFsdGrUF_fvC20sOxsY1kGskJYVHtdvwUCvGdFUlNSiuk-dcRQULQiIgRIl4viCS2PZNWqnlwnW00sK1NnYXy/s320/P1040308.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604060373711129170" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFEmPyUSymJfz0aNFCQ-BBOQbzyAN289xIR_KoQFerd8EY6zV-LhdkFLCf-goyEY_VhkC2aDlQkgJ5vMQ0JvZQH3itBesCBE_a4sn4ZHIUj5uagvVXm1U4G-2Woegn1gokhmGPe5rRecF/s1600/P1040277.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEFEmPyUSymJfz0aNFCQ-BBOQbzyAN289xIR_KoQFerd8EY6zV-LhdkFLCf-goyEY_VhkC2aDlQkgJ5vMQ0JvZQH3itBesCBE_a4sn4ZHIUj5uagvVXm1U4G-2Woegn1gokhmGPe5rRecF/s320/P1040277.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604060366392469794" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgupe5Zm_H988qDgrfulLIALSceLo8bI66ya5lH2i4h6G8BFLYALwzTCsC-pRlMqKdFlKIXSEm4JIrD6CwoXtpHI6U5luSGNCCPWFYrhT_4AKY0F4kdVJVGqtKWymYFmgzxXsXjx8vD_dgZ/s1600/P1040269.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgupe5Zm_H988qDgrfulLIALSceLo8bI66ya5lH2i4h6G8BFLYALwzTCsC-pRlMqKdFlKIXSEm4JIrD6CwoXtpHI6U5luSGNCCPWFYrhT_4AKY0F4kdVJVGqtKWymYFmgzxXsXjx8vD_dgZ/s320/P1040269.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604060364672411906" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEg0ftQXqCjUDkAujtUkPe7KuE4GS-pQxxSbOF0imo9A4eu0bRTnp_rzvHWopVSYntwc6pppUt904zviRzY_9HYe40TT0CNvMzGA6FVki0nn8DmqHSxSuMccS319oyeUOTqwK2kxDIolu6/s1600/P1040262.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEg0ftQXqCjUDkAujtUkPe7KuE4GS-pQxxSbOF0imo9A4eu0bRTnp_rzvHWopVSYntwc6pppUt904zviRzY_9HYe40TT0CNvMzGA6FVki0nn8DmqHSxSuMccS319oyeUOTqwK2kxDIolu6/s320/P1040262.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604060335041527986" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rA39U7JLnZjY0Iu4DSInq5steM_bBCVwUQg2p2nTB3EDLD-mIHRLzkmuZJfVPkiUQ3JINW3QvsM0N0sitAKjsnW1SVZKiAqnWQmnZUuJIG5qDUmwh-G-DdDqTuCqC0tBfy5uXaAg1n9n/s1600/P1040252.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rA39U7JLnZjY0Iu4DSInq5steM_bBCVwUQg2p2nTB3EDLD-mIHRLzkmuZJfVPkiUQ3JINW3QvsM0N0sitAKjsnW1SVZKiAqnWQmnZUuJIG5qDUmwh-G-DdDqTuCqC0tBfy5uXaAg1n9n/s320/P1040252.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604060322997576450" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc1isJqnRP2mZ6bGBs-M8ctJqqKtslxA2WkatMhfZRripaFVl-bqDaPfTtszPgab6lj9UeyQ6PMrf4nHstVKi_GV2V7UZCC-2qow_7PmpN5u3nhnXDRQTXggQ8HEqG84vjyrcHXxjYN6N8/s1600/P1040302.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc1isJqnRP2mZ6bGBs-M8ctJqqKtslxA2WkatMhfZRripaFVl-bqDaPfTtszPgab6lj9UeyQ6PMrf4nHstVKi_GV2V7UZCC-2qow_7PmpN5u3nhnXDRQTXggQ8HEqG84vjyrcHXxjYN6N8/s320/P1040302.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604061364604391010" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwZifhCYbb90YjKMJC9cB-QAzvqVdKQL1-6Zhg9GhcAEnhC8siAUd8QoTkyIo0CegC6PLR4EbIKzfuLTTGfZUe6RH7aYbudFbTLgAka6oF94LarV3CXkT51JHE8WeSl-ynVtsKMsgVA0y/s1600/P1040317.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinwZifhCYbb90YjKMJC9cB-QAzvqVdKQL1-6Zhg9GhcAEnhC8siAUd8QoTkyIo0CegC6PLR4EbIKzfuLTTGfZUe6RH7aYbudFbTLgAka6oF94LarV3CXkT51JHE8WeSl-ynVtsKMsgVA0y/s320/P1040317.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604061359749827602" /></a>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-77432839098903420932011-03-24T14:13:00.001-05:002011-03-24T14:16:29.130-05:00Facebook PicsFor those readers who may not be on the most popular social sharing site OF ALL TIME!<br /><br />http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=300742&id=582859611<br /><br />http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=336896&id=582859611<br /><br />I'm sorry, the links aren't working. good ol' copy and paste will, though!Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-49572135902199649052011-03-24T12:55:00.003-05:002011-03-24T14:05:14.082-05:00The Little Playmate...Being that it's been 3 months since my last post, I figured I should go ahead and write another one!<br /><br />As I'm sure you can guess, many many many things have happened since then. It's very hard to believe how quickly time flies!<br /><br />The last post was so cheery, it really masked the realities of that time for us. We were all very happy, but very concerned about Maggie. The worry really culminated on our trip to Lafayette. We still hadn't figured out the cause for her vomiting. I hated to see her do it, but it was a relief that my Mom could be there to witness it.<br /><br />I'm glad she did, because she's the one who saved our lives that trip! She suggested we try a different feeding method. We were using Dr. Brown's bottles. Some sort of fancy "no air" bottles. Well, Maggie really wasn't very good at sucking on those tiny nipples, so she would swallow air the entire time she was eating! Then, when her tummy had all that air in it, she'd get hiccups, swallowing more air! So, with all the pressure on her little gut, where do you think the freshly drank formula would go?? Yep, you guess it...all over the things within a 3 foot radius of her at the time. Well, Mimi went out and got some old fashioned Playtex drop ins that week, and we haven't had a projectile vomit since.<br /><br />In fact, Maggie has been happier and happier. <br /><br />I wasn't so lucky. The first 2 months of her life frazzled me. I was in a place I couldn't get out of by myself. The constant worry and lack of sleep left me exhausted, depressed and unhappy. To top it off, Maggie got sick, then I got sick. <br /><br />It was terrible to see her with her first cold and cough! She had to sleep elevated, so for about 6 weeks after that, she slept in her bouncy seat, and I slept on the couch. We really only had to do it for like 8 days, but she was sleeping so good and was right in eye, ear and arms reach of me. I was satisfied with that.<br /><br />I wasn't satisfied with my feelings, though. I was tired of being a mess!! I spoke to my doctor, and after bunches of huffing and puffing and justifications, I filled a script for an antidepressant.<br /><br />Within 2 weeks, I felt brand new. I think that Maggie being healthy and smiling regularly at me didn't hurt much either. :)<br /><br />I'm glad I did it. I didn't realize how isolated I truly felt here until I took a good, hard look at it. Not having any outlets or family or friends really is difficult when you have a new baby. It's a double edged sword to have a baby, and then feel depressed about it. Its a cycle that starts up....you feel sad and lonely, but then guilty because Motherhood is the best, right??<br /><br />Well, I know that if I lived in an area where I had a strong support system at my fingertips, I would have been better equipped to handle the strong feelings of being overwhelmed. Don't get me wrong, I HAVE friends and I HAVE a strong support system, I just don't live around the corner from them. 2 hours is an abyss when you can't leave your house.<br /><br />Anyway....the pills are still working their magic. haha. I feel GREAT! Almost like my old self again.<br /><br />Speaking of my old self; I know that person is gone. I may have lamented briefly the loss of her. But, really...it has been a relief. A baby is a good excuse to grow up. I think I may have needed one. I enjoy the clarity of full night's sleep (yes, I'm getting it now!!). I enjoy the small pleasures of sunny days and walks in my neighborhood. Life has slowed down, but it is so much cooler now.<br /><br />There are things I miss about my old self, but it's not the person I once was, it is the people I once knew.<br /><br />Now, I still know these people. We're still friends on Facebook and try to make plans to see each other when I'm in Lafayette. But, it's not like it was before. I am a mom now. I can't pick up and go party for the weekend in town. I can barely go to dinner. And, I certainly can't enjoy a few drinks and stay up all night talking these days. But, that's the nature of having a bunch of childless friends. I have to say No a lot, and then people stop asking. Such is life. When I'm available to start those things again, they'll be taking the trip down Motherhood drive. haha. But, they aren't solely to blame. I'm not making any phone calls these days either.<br />So, if you're reading this and you think I'm talking about you....call me. I miss you.<br /><br /><br /><br />My computer died a couple of days ago, so unfortunately I don't have too many new pictures of Maggie. Here are some relatively recent ones. Just a few days old...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZInhW6sUgV-KCmJvxR-Og6nbusoRI8qQvF6-eP66VmBMRfipWioPmPo5N3xyErE7boRS7At1DUKkTTEtaIz35323pkkJ4qK4oc-jraAhNk2V9sNT9HHIbJUEYNoC6XyAk40w2BKrhW21/s1600/P1040220.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7ZInhW6sUgV-KCmJvxR-Og6nbusoRI8qQvF6-eP66VmBMRfipWioPmPo5N3xyErE7boRS7At1DUKkTTEtaIz35323pkkJ4qK4oc-jraAhNk2V9sNT9HHIbJUEYNoC6XyAk40w2BKrhW21/s320/P1040220.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587723247380483842" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFzWYN2LeEm2mdJPds2vEYNtotAmDnAalp7l1IVZVBbEpj0kOFrqCvb1rDEX6M84zAx3TRHTFtXYEQ-cNmDZ_PF61AMZ5U8TAB8UjLnprK-y2IKCUKgpTP0YlHHoYMyeMdfQML5v0UWXfb/s1600/P1040216.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFzWYN2LeEm2mdJPds2vEYNtotAmDnAalp7l1IVZVBbEpj0kOFrqCvb1rDEX6M84zAx3TRHTFtXYEQ-cNmDZ_PF61AMZ5U8TAB8UjLnprK-y2IKCUKgpTP0YlHHoYMyeMdfQML5v0UWXfb/s320/P1040216.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587723242017311698" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7eJ1uwxAYn4FlxAumlbefwjgHQhzNYpa7enRFcSiIPsbiF3kNDRb6h9m8edYFtIDFQ3cLHmNMpD-MT-mugzzQwuXvdCAM21U-yAAwQdfCpc0r368fkDBQ0mTcUd28L6ve7PsnP9wiXFi1/s1600/P1040206.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7eJ1uwxAYn4FlxAumlbefwjgHQhzNYpa7enRFcSiIPsbiF3kNDRb6h9m8edYFtIDFQ3cLHmNMpD-MT-mugzzQwuXvdCAM21U-yAAwQdfCpc0r368fkDBQ0mTcUd28L6ve7PsnP9wiXFi1/s320/P1040206.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587723233866757458" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPymWLdECDcyDELQ8ugznfQApe94s4ItKDtesPDQYb4sQxfFCTO2MA2Im0gD7DMT423FSXXcNMZwV0VmODV3pm_A34V11tMS1yVQWx5pUwU9ApVpCJnO5nnP26J955LHkf5SLMBWEW2sul/s1600/P1040201.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPymWLdECDcyDELQ8ugznfQApe94s4ItKDtesPDQYb4sQxfFCTO2MA2Im0gD7DMT423FSXXcNMZwV0VmODV3pm_A34V11tMS1yVQWx5pUwU9ApVpCJnO5nnP26J955LHkf5SLMBWEW2sul/s320/P1040201.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587723231646235794" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9N_xS74BpW36s6k_P-JC2ieik6kZZwmmA6pxv7sRfWstVQh0g-350UZEYP2oI5ORbt4zNEvuiVhSWR0exKCJC0kHCDfOkR8rtAqI6aHE4hJ_fuKFibKU73AEeVhXCRB-B2SynaXFBTHxK/s1600/P1040224.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9N_xS74BpW36s6k_P-JC2ieik6kZZwmmA6pxv7sRfWstVQh0g-350UZEYP2oI5ORbt4zNEvuiVhSWR0exKCJC0kHCDfOkR8rtAqI6aHE4hJ_fuKFibKU73AEeVhXCRB-B2SynaXFBTHxK/s320/P1040224.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587723250711644370" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />She's been a developmental pro these last few weeks. She's really great at tummy time. She grabs her right foot with her right hand every chance she gets. she LOVES bouncing in the bouncer. She laughed Monday, but I haven't been able to get her to do it since. I'm trying REALLY HARD, though.<br /><br />She's so sweet. There will be another blog soon, when I get my computer back up and running.<br /><br />In the meantime, you should also go check out my youtube page for very recent and regularly updated videos of Maggie being super adorbs!!<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/user/connerkat"></a>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-61191878768657794442011-01-01T22:00:00.002-06:002011-01-01T22:45:11.395-06:00Holiday cheer...The last two weeks have been so crazy! Holidays have a way of making you totally crazy and totally worn out.<br /><br />We had several firsts. Her first Christmas, her first road trips and meeting some family.<br /><br />I had so much anxiety about the road trips. I am pretty comfortable putting her in the car and going to run an errand. I still have some anxiety about everyone else on the road, but I know that I am doing everything right. Gah help anyone who would hit my car with my baby inside it. I would go all Mama Bear on their asses! I literally imagine mauling faces. <br /><br />Bringing her around town is one thing, but rocketing down the road at 70 miles an hour is much different in its own way. In town, the percentage of car-missiles are higher, but they aren't flying at death speeds. On the highway, there's also truck-missiles and bigwheel-missiles flying at death speeds.<br /><br />I was so nervous. I took much of my anxiety out on my poor husband, nit-picking his every move for a few days. Then, the day before Xmas Eve, I shut completely down, like my mind was in denial that anything was going to happen. I guess it had become too much.<br /><br />On Friday, xmas eve, Mike and I had a very relaxed day, up until having to get ready for the trip over to Morgan City. We were scheduled to go to his Aunt Brenda's, Uncle Paul's and then to his parents for presents. We managed all of it. Maggie was an angel during all of it. I mean, she's unaware that she's rocketing down the highway. She's pretty unaware that she's doing anything. I know that she knew she wasn't home, but she didn't seem to mind. She got to meet LOTS of new people and hang out with some of her biggest fans (Abba, Pawpaw and bisAbuela).<br /><br />We got home late, around 11:30. I was ready to leave. Mama Bear was very close to coming out of hibernation.<br /><br />On Saturday, after presents, I was leaving to stay a few days with my Mom in Lafayette. I realized that morning how unprepared I was to bring Maggie anywhere for that many days. I wanted to leave at 10, but we didn't leave til 12:00 noon. I had to pack everything we use at home to make us comfortable. I used 2 suitcases and every inch of available space in my car, and some of Mike's truck. When we got there, everyone laughed at the amount of stuff and that Maggie filled the entire large suitcase from the set. For a person that can't do much, she sure needs some stuff!<br />The Lafayette trip was less hectic than the Morgan City trip. Saturday, we spent with my mom. Sunday, we went to my Mema & Pepa's. My Dad's parents hadn't met Maggie yet. I was very excited for them to see her, since she looks so much like I did when I was a baby. Another little Reed baby.<br /><br />I was pretty exhausted Sunday, and I think the traveling was getting to Maggie, because she wasn't really herself. She was still a good baby and got a good passing around, but when it was time to go, it was time to go.<br /><br />Monday, we didn't do anything. Just relaxed with Mimi. Nanny came by to see her and even Sara! She got to sleep on Nanny's chest and made all babies everywhere very jealous.<br /><br />Tuesday, she got to meet Aunty Claire and I got a beautiful, very unique locket necklace from her to put pictures of my sweet girls in. Then, we left.<br /><br />We had a great time, but it was nice to get home to our smells and routines.<br /><br />Thursday before Christmas, Mike's sister Jessie (Tattie to Isabella and Maggie) came and spent the night. I hadn't had anything to drink since the weekend before the weekend before we found out we were pregnant, and thought that I wanted a cocktail.<br /><br />I had seen Tony Bordain (<3) drink a rum punch on his Monday night episode of <span style="font-style:italic;">No Reservations</span> and wanted one. Jess and I head over to the store, and we buy a premixed version from Malibu Coconut Rum. I saw that it had 15% alcohol in it, and didn't really think much of it.<br /><br />I had one condition to having a little drink. If I was going to have a drink, Mike couldn't. I wanted to make sure that at least one of us was completely lucid for her. Mike agreed because he's awesome.<br /><br />We got home and poured ourselves some drinks. It was TERRIBLE! We added some orange juice and it made it tolerable, but I'd be lying if I said that after about 1/4 of it, I was giggly and silly. I haven't been that silly since I tasted my first Bartles & James wine cooler. For the purposes of Mom-sanity, I'll leave out the age at which that happened. <br /><br />Well, I was happy. Giddy. We watched crap TV and laughed about stuff. After my first drink, I made another. I felt pretty buzzed. Before I started that second drink, I looked over at my husband holding my sweet baby girl and I got a little emotional. Then, a little emotional turned ALOT emotional. I realized that after 6 weeks of her life, for the first time, I felt like I couldn't hold her if I wanted to. I felt guilty. I felt lonely. I felt HORRIBLE. I don't know if I need to say this, but I didn't have anything else to drink after that. I vowed to never drink again. Then, I went to bed, depressed.<br /><br />For NYE, I will say that I had 2 glasses of champagne over the course of about 3 hours, and got very relaxed, but just enjoyed it.<br /><br />I think something changed for me that night of the Rum Punch. I knew that I would never drink like I did before Maggie ever again. Life has a new meaning now, and she is it. Mama Bear on alcohol is just not a good combo.<br /><br />I haven't uploaded any pictures from the holidays yet, I will soon. Maybe tomorrow, if you're lucky!<br /><br />Maggie is 2 months old today, the first day of 2011. Best New Years Day I've ever had.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-44065073660852840442010-12-19T10:02:00.005-06:002010-12-19T20:44:11.166-06:00Continue if you dare....I've been contemplating writing this for a while. It's not bad, it's probably just a bit of TMI.<br /><br />It is mainly about bodily functions, so I would imagine if you are a person who is not in the same situation as me, you may not want to continue from here. IF you are a person who is not going to read past this point, here's a picture to make your trip worthwhile.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8Fg6WBmZY2qzmk1joKN1JV32etDs_gJkmBajcEtydxbDDjdsTsAUnjM33JAnz_uoXXv1rkzNvclAsJ8fYoqsuxsoDEqIXSwKbNgmYsZDSiWnvvIO5Ykuw2Die0qqW4MnX79-zScV_6O5/s1600/DSC04288.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY8Fg6WBmZY2qzmk1joKN1JV32etDs_gJkmBajcEtydxbDDjdsTsAUnjM33JAnz_uoXXv1rkzNvclAsJ8fYoqsuxsoDEqIXSwKbNgmYsZDSiWnvvIO5Ykuw2Die0qqW4MnX79-zScV_6O5/s320/DSC04288.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552429683795424450" /></a><br /><br /><br />If you're still here, cool. Let's get into it. I'm all in to full disclosure, and I kind of wish that I had known about a couple of these things.<br /><br />So, first. Immediately after Maggie was born, my nurse put a catheter in my bladder to drain it. I'm still not sure why she did this, except to put a cherry on top of the onslaught of vaginal trauma that is childbirth. I mean, I didn't have an epidural. I was capable of walking just 10 minutes later. After she drained my bladder, she was all braggy about the amount of urine I had in there. She even made a BIG DEAL about it to my OB. I got a bladder infection the next week and I blame that! That was a whole other story. Short and sweet: antibiotics gave me what I thought was a stomach virus and I spent 36 hours away from my baby. <br /><br />The next thing is the episiotomy. The bane of childbirth. My Achilles heel. My doc "gave me the extra room" during the delivery. I was pushing out an eight pound baby with a head the size of a pumpkin, so at the time I didn't mind. After Doc stitched me up (which took an inordinate amount of time), a nurse came and gave me an icy-cold diaper to put on my hoohah. It was amazing. The next day, I felt like I had been hit by a truck. My whole body was sore. Now, usually, when my entire body is sore from my twice yearly attempt at "getting in shape" I don't have to even think about my private parts. This was different because my vaginal area was the sore-est part of my body. I was given prescription strength Ibuprofen every 12 hours, even though I needed after 8. I also was given these pad shaped ice packs to sit on intermittently. They were heaven. (Later, when we were in the hospital with Maggie, I continued to ask for these, even though the nurse told me that they were useless after 12 hours.) She was not smart. It was still heaven. When I was discharged, I was still very sore down there. I didn't know what to expect. I knew how to clean it (squirt bottle...lala) but I didn't know if it was first, second or third degree and I certainly didn't know it would take much longer to totally heal that I figured. (At this moment, 6 weeks later, I'm still not "normal.") Boy, did the whole episiotomy suck hard. TAKE THE SITZ BATHS AND USE WITCH HAZEL PADS. I didn't know about them until later, and I really could have used them.<br /><br />To say something good about the episiotomy, or at least my doctor, is that I can't see it. I don't know where it is. I can feel it, but not see it. It's weird. But, I'm glad I'm not deformed. I never thought about the aesthetic aspect of my genitalia...but, I wouldn't want it to look different than it ever had, you know?<br /><br />Another thing that I experienced with my private parts was something that I had NEVER heard of, but feel the need to tell you about is the clitoral bruising. What is that, you say?? When you deliver a baby, your entire vagina gets traumatized, even your clitoris, which you would think isn't even in the way. Well, it's still there, and it's still connected to the rest of it. For weeks, I would have this weird ache. It would hurt more if I stayed still, especially sitting still, for a while and then got up. I thought it was my abdominal muscle attachments on the pubic bone, but I was wrong. I am only sharing this so that the rest of you ladies delivering babies will also know what the hell is happening. I am very glad that that side-effect has faded away.<br /><br />When we finally got to go home, I was a mess. I was a mess in the hospital, but it multiplied when we got home. I should explain, because I was personally a mess from lack of sleep and my vagina was constantly reminding me of its trauma, but I was also a mess because I worried about Maggie constantly.<br /><br />I was so paranoid. I was convinced that if I put her down, she would choke on her spit up and die. I held her so much that her head is misshapen because of it. I'm serious. Last week I noticed that the right side of her head was flat just behind her ear. So, instead of getting a flat head from laying on her back alone too much, I loved her so much that I flattened her head. Now, I have to make a concentrated effort to hold her differently so that her head will go back to normal. Thankfully, it will. It's kind of funny after you get over the ridiculousness of it.<br /><br />My paranoia is much better. I am no longer convinced that she will die if I put her down, so we're working on getting her to sleep in her bed, which is right next to my side of the bed, so I can look at her if I want to. Which I do, even if she makes the slightest movement. I have not slept more than 4 hours at a time in 6 weeks, and that 4 hour luxury just started last week!!<br /><br />Despite all of my worrying, she's just doing what she should. Growing. She's soo much bigger than she was when she was born. My neck muscles are tight enough to prove it. I have tension headaches and referred pain into my shoulders and my thumbs (at the carpometacarpal articulation) still have this weird tendonitis type pain. I'm falling apart. LOL. Of course, I wouldn't change it for the world. I just have to look at her sweet, adorable, lovely face and I'm completely in love all over again. Even if she's crying, I still look at her and feel this draw to her. A pull that starts at my heart and doesn't end. She's my little baby. My lovebug. My perfect little sweetheart.<br /><br />The very last thing that I want to laugh at and talk about is just being a mom taking care of a newborn. From the beginning, it's like my body started functioning different. And, by different, I mean it shuts down. If Maggie is sleeping on me, I can sit still for hours and never have to pee or eat. My days consist of deciphering the Navajo code that is figuring out what she wants every day. Which changes daily. So, after I've exhausted all of the things that have previously worked, I have to start trying new stuff. But, it has gotten easier and I find that I am getting better at just knowing what she wants. I did read about something that has proven to be a very very good helper at calming her down: The 5 S's. Swaddling, side or stomach, shhhing, sucking and swinging. Google it.<br /><br />Well, I did say that the last thing was the last thing, but it's not...I also want to talk about acid reflux. Your baby has it. My baby has it. Most babies do. THEY DO NOT NEED MEDICINE. Well, some babies do. But, trust your gut and don't give them drugs just because your doc says so. It's still your baby and you have the final say so.<br /><br />Anyway. That's it for now. I hope that maybe some thing or things that I have said may help you in some way, down the road or now, or you can throw it all out the window. <br /><br />Happy babying!!Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-81153716435716770392010-12-16T11:08:00.008-06:002010-12-16T11:55:44.058-06:00Picture post and other stuff...There's been a lot happening, with Maggie's development and growth. She's getting really big! Getting little rolls on her legs and arms. Her cheeks keep growing....hopefully that doesn't delay her head control. haha<br /><br />Time is going by so quickly. Most days seem like blurs filled with diapers, bottles, cries (sometimes, me), laughs (me) and brief naps (me). <br /><br />Maggie still has her days and nights confused, which is taking its toll on Mommy and Daddy, but...she'll grow out of that eventually. She's still so small...she doesn't care much about what time it is or whether it's daylight or night. Newborns really don't care about much at all, except eating and sleeping.<br /><br />Recently, she's been smiling while awake. That's a big big big morale boost for me. I worry all the time if her brain is developing like it should. (Yes, that's true.) I worry if I'm stimulating her enough, getting those little neurons to fire. There's a large part of every day that Maggie spends crying. She's a little colicky. So, when she's sleeping, I feel relief. But, I also feel like she's sleeping too much and missing out on important developmental stimuli.<br /><br />I know most of my worrying is for naught - hehe, I always wanted to say that - because right now her brain development is happening mostly on its own, while her physical development takes precedence. But, if I'm not worrying, then I guess I'm just not complete.<br /><br />It's hard to tell just how much she's grown or changed unless you see pictures from early on until now....I am not going to post old pics of her, just new ones...so, to see the contrast, you will have to go to earlier posts. Or, check out the album Maggie Melissa on my Facebook page. If you don't have a Facebook - get with the times!<br /><br />Ok, here they are....a bunch of pictures. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6fWV6lzKaLek7xfHhoPFX06aG8Xp1iyivnA6Vt4s73Aj8EVGNwCIRdUn3_WhaLLuzhSyBrZ1hSUp91UfOS__O1mAj3O2dUUwSPJ3vnDHPX2C4XSR7TMW-JhPxBNJdLfkU2CmdaPuuByo/s1600/P1030979.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk6fWV6lzKaLek7xfHhoPFX06aG8Xp1iyivnA6Vt4s73Aj8EVGNwCIRdUn3_WhaLLuzhSyBrZ1hSUp91UfOS__O1mAj3O2dUUwSPJ3vnDHPX2C4XSR7TMW-JhPxBNJdLfkU2CmdaPuuByo/s320/P1030979.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551332396016529762" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7C2mv1gnnAchaeiGiiJJ6QRDib4sRM4cj32v7xyizoyTkr1VadhkESm8xhgHjafbhMDDvEdW_i5dzzCsN60rsE4shNdTLf2-zlXJWQsQTLSB9P_EV87GL5HRUqvojqdlydH5WX57YAh4s/s1600/maggie+yellow+smile+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7C2mv1gnnAchaeiGiiJJ6QRDib4sRM4cj32v7xyizoyTkr1VadhkESm8xhgHjafbhMDDvEdW_i5dzzCsN60rsE4shNdTLf2-zlXJWQsQTLSB9P_EV87GL5HRUqvojqdlydH5WX57YAh4s/s320/maggie+yellow+smile+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551332386775668306" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBONwrQbjMpHUK61StpgCifS3vb5bRuOTf_7908xpeuZcQX6bwWOtmYCcsSeEI-MtImrwfMWeXVCz55-Oh27aLg3m2r37KDFSSRTSrTq8uG7Fl5QzdpROjrqKnyj_YHXMIg8t0ygkNK3vT/s1600/maggie+yellow+smile.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBONwrQbjMpHUK61StpgCifS3vb5bRuOTf_7908xpeuZcQX6bwWOtmYCcsSeEI-MtImrwfMWeXVCz55-Oh27aLg3m2r37KDFSSRTSrTq8uG7Fl5QzdpROjrqKnyj_YHXMIg8t0ygkNK3vT/s320/maggie+yellow+smile.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551332387368802914" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xYIwhEwG5ObNaGgTM0IwmuYjazG3XUJFQsoqIJYYSILZM1x1ZBB4mtbMl3QFi3ASz38Bg6bUsiT2wz4pGrwx-o9fsG0k_d3TZnExTwu4n5fCb5_tS95AhM-A7dozwYZK_V1u_-K1TD8C/s1600/maggie+yellow.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8xYIwhEwG5ObNaGgTM0IwmuYjazG3XUJFQsoqIJYYSILZM1x1ZBB4mtbMl3QFi3ASz38Bg6bUsiT2wz4pGrwx-o9fsG0k_d3TZnExTwu4n5fCb5_tS95AhM-A7dozwYZK_V1u_-K1TD8C/s320/maggie+yellow.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551332379588181698" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin0YxqdQycYYJASuhLkKlL15kiQ72wvxw61Ht-D4513tzz6XWlpQBuvNJuLYg5GUxwqdQkepuyUvSythkAVko_v6f4aytcuAS0mlR0Q9tA3HhN_mJhZtXqlWZlJ0EZWpS42fvuluJvGBm2/s1600/maggie+looking+at+daddy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin0YxqdQycYYJASuhLkKlL15kiQ72wvxw61Ht-D4513tzz6XWlpQBuvNJuLYg5GUxwqdQkepuyUvSythkAVko_v6f4aytcuAS0mlR0Q9tA3HhN_mJhZtXqlWZlJ0EZWpS42fvuluJvGBm2/s320/maggie+looking+at+daddy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551332381769254658" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJJqduaeYdSSsk7VOZUikn5NCCvGx7ijHkWv_Bn8_AazhpqtlJxVPdnqhH46hpHSEQBO8pQ5cJSFS53pJUZKTuspxT7aQSt0GZhvo32PPQZtDKZQWXvKsruLZRjBblLvIADjG_pPJxFwNo/s1600/P1040007.JPG"><img style="display:block; 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margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgL7SA2sAM265RormbbREhTreynczNMY8QSHk9OPf17H4RIUzO2WzuNnpaCoxSUlbcpkYlaaYc8yjSYLzhMV3iyZO5a98n1ywBombGNvmwrw1tqUZiq-nU2bhmbod76BBecJa1WHzIaj5X/s320/DSC04286.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551340099587692082" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrVxm5u61ojk8dfhMu94VjDcm_yR4GzByLHrsQ0YBHEPc4yLzjsFj5oHlUCfmx8IPH35vUwNicAvRbqA2MGSWLQl-9uhGx7QaToRETEKPlcYl8xCFTAHmOV2FSWCSZLy9j31p5ZDBtLrG/s1600/DSC04270.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrVxm5u61ojk8dfhMu94VjDcm_yR4GzByLHrsQ0YBHEPc4yLzjsFj5oHlUCfmx8IPH35vUwNicAvRbqA2MGSWLQl-9uhGx7QaToRETEKPlcYl8xCFTAHmOV2FSWCSZLy9j31p5ZDBtLrG/s320/DSC04270.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5551340095494520114" /></a>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-47610989334785117852010-11-30T12:22:00.002-06:002010-11-30T18:35:42.602-06:00TuesdayToday was an important day.<br /><br />Today, Maggie and I ventured out of the house.<br /><br />The original plan was to go to the store. We were running low on formula and diapers and other things that aren't as important - like food for Mommy and Daddy. Well, I decided to stop by my place of employment on hiatus, Blue Cliff.<br /><br />It was an unannounced visit. I think those kinds might be for the best right now, until I know I can promise to be somewhere and not have some crushing bout with anxiety and stay stuck to the couch. Well, it takes a cold front to get me moving, I guess.<br /><br />So, somehow, everything works out. She's fed, comfortable, wrapped in multiple Eskimo-worthy layers and we're out the door!<br /><br />I also decided to use a carrier for the first time. The car seat/carrier thingy that comes in and out of the car and is used on the stroller weighs a ton. I am interested in lean and tone arms, but I'm also interested in not dropping my child out of exhaustion. Well, wouldn't you know! That worked out too. Maggie was so comfortable in her carrier that she immediately dropped a deuce. (Pooped.) So, she met some of my co-workers (and new adoring fans) smelling like a poop. I don't think anyone minded.<br /><br />Well, my plan to stay 10 minutes (stupid plan) turned into close to an hour and a half. It was really nice to catch up with some of them and have a conversation with an adult during day light hours.<br /><br />After we left Blue Cliff, we headed over to Wal Mart. I re-strapped her into the carrier, where she immediately fell into a deep coma-worthy sleep and I shopped for our needs with little worries. I did worry that she was suffocating herself against my sweat-shirt, so I kept a constant vigil on the position of her head. I got everything we needed, except formula. They didn't have the specific one she likes, and from our experience last week with formula experimentation - you don't change what isn't broke!<br /><br />Today, I was determined to change some things. I had a mini-meltdown last night - fueled by sleepiness and frustration. I had an epiphany of sorts:<br /><br />I want to give anyone who is about to have a baby, or who is thinking of having a baby some advice. DON'T READ.<br /><br />I spent my pregnancy reading and reading. I consumed baby manuals like air. Google and I were communicating telepathically. It's like we were one, I used it so much.<br /><br />I planned on solely breast feeding, subscribed to the church of attachment parenting and thought about Dr. Sears on a daily basis. I bought cloth diapers and slings and carriers and wraps. I was NEVER going to give my baby a pacifier or let her sleep anywhere but on me or her bed.<br /><br />NONE of those things have come true. Instead of behaving like she came with a manual, Maggie has been her own, individual, unique baby. Wow, who'd a thunk it??<br /><br />Because of my initial consumption of knowledge, when things didn't turn out like I planned - like using a pacifier or letting her sleep in the stroller - instead of going with the flow, I felt like a failure. I was allowing compromises in my planning to allow Maggie to happier and more comfortable, but wasn't allowing those compromises any room in my mind. I was blaming myself for things not panning out like the books, magazines, articles and whatever else said they should.<br /><br />Now, that's the key word - SHOULD. It's really a poisonous word. Nothing about a newborn SHOULD be. Let's make the obvious exceptions of general health and well-being like weight gain and appetite and things like that.<br /><br />Everything else may fit into the category of "SHOULD" but that "SHOULD" is only for YOUR baby.<br /><br />I was looking forward to many things. And one main thing was - and is - breast feeding. My milk is at a current state of "trickle." At this point there is no discernible change when I get some. I did do some research, and it could be because of my hypothyroidism and the fact that a new baby and new routines have led me to not take my meds appropriately. I made an appointment with my endocrinologist and will find out if there is a possibility of building my supply back up. And, if there isn't, I need to let go of the rigid thoughts that breast fed babies are the only healthy babies out there and continue to formula feed. The rigidity of my thoughts are killing my buzz.<br /><br />We also got cloth diapers. I still plan on using those diapers, but I will begin to use them after she's no longer a "newborn" and is peeing less than 250 times a day. I still have yet to make a judgement call here.<br /><br />I got a couple of messages after my last posting, and I'm sorry that I didn't respond to any of them. I will here:<br /><br />Reglan - as far as I can tell from what my OB has told me - is no longer prescribed by responsible doctors because of the side-effects and "bad press" it was getting. I haven't tried any thing herbal yet, but plan on it.<br /><br />I will always be open to suggestions and advice. So, if you are a mom and are willing to offer it, I'll always have one ear open to it. BUT - my new mantra is this (and I hope that if anyone reads this, may consider it too):<br /><br />A baby changes your life. Your perspective. Your attitude. Your responsibility is to make sure this baby's life is happy, healthy and good. Don't let your rigidity force your baby to suffer. Don't let your rigidity force you to suffer. Stay flexible and you will stay happy.<br /><br />So, here I am - a hypochondriac at heart, changing my belief system to accommodate Maggie. I have to. If I didn't, we'd all be unhappy. <br /><br />Anyway, here's to a successful outing today, and many more to come! Here's to sleeping in the stroller and pacifiers!! Here's to disposable diapers! Here's to newborn formula! <br /><br />None of it is what I expected, and even though it isn't, I still love every minute.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-5141465666066734132010-11-26T22:03:00.003-06:002010-11-26T23:33:26.136-06:00Part Deux: Bringing Home BabyIn Part 1, I detailed the birth of my Little Maggie. I did actually forget a couple of things....just minor details: during one of my particularly bad contractions, in the flailing of my arms, I knocked Mike's glasses off. And, somehow, during the pushing, my IV popped off and I bled all over the place. Just minor details. :)<br /><br />So, the delivery is the easy part. It's everything that comes after that's hard.<br /><br />Seems like pushing an 8 pound kid out of your vagina would be the hardest part, but no such luck. The next couple of days after were basically easy too. Day 3, or Going Home Day, began the challenge.<br /><br />First of all, for hours and hours after they are born, most babies have no interest in eating. They only have an interest in sleeping, which is good because they are putting themselves in some sort of sleep coma that helps their swelling go down and their alien shaped heads get back to normal. Maggie didn't actually nurse until about 3am the night after she was born. That started it. <br /><br />I was, and am, very committed to breast feeding. Even through the early days when my nipples looked like beef jerky because Maggie wasn't latching well. I knew that that was part of the drill until both of us got accustomed and acquainted with nursing.<br /><br />We had her home for a single day when we had to bring her back to the hospital. We tested her bilirubin levels and they were high. Not high enough to cause brain damage, but the doctors didn't want them to get any higher. And - get this - breast fed babies have a more difficult time removing bilirubin from their blood than formula fed babies.<br /><br />So, for nearly 3 days, my tiny baby had to be separated from me for hours and hours - basically except for feedings - and put into an incubator with blue light to reduce her bili levels. It was very stressful and emotionally draining. It's very hard to see such a tiny person stuck in this plastic box for so long. Especially when that tiny person is your baby. Every day, they had to poke her heel and test her levels and when we admitted into the room, they actually had to draw blood from her tiny arm. It was so hard. Lots of tears were shed those days, all by me. It's really unfair to put an emotionally and hormonally unstable new mother in that situation.<br /><br />Luckily, after a couple of days, we were able to come home. She was still yellow, but her levels had gone down and the rebound would be easily combatted by her body.<br /><br />So, we had a second homecoming.<br /><br />I had continued to breast feed her all throughout this ordeal and into the following week. My mom (Mimi) came Monday and stayed until Thursday. During these few days, Maggie was crying alot, unsatisfied and gassy. I read an article about lactose overload. It made perfect sense to me, that a baby could get only large amounts of foremilk, and not enough hindmilk, which would cause an excessive amount of gas because of the low amounts of fats in the foremilk. I knew this had to be happening to Maggie. So, I tried to slow down and not stress about switching breasts during feedings. It seemed to work.<br /><br />Breast feeding is a guessing game. I read an entire book and took a class. I also met with a lactation consultant. Nothing really prepared me for the challenges of nursing. No one really tells you how hard it is until you run into problems, then they tell you that while babies have the natural instinct to suck, not all babies know how. And, not all breasts are the same. So, each baby has to get to know its own set, if you know what I mean. When you start having problems is when they tell you that the time it takes to get good at nursing can take days, weeks or months. Or, never.<br /><br />I was really having a problem with the uncertainty of it. I couldn't tell if she was getting enough. It certainly didn't seem like it. She was always hungry. She cried alot. I was having so much anxiety. I started to dislike breast feeding because of the anxiety it was causing. I was crying at nearly every feeding out of frustration and pain. It was the end of the second week of her life, and she still couldn't latch effectively. Then, late that Friday night, I got sick. I got sick with a stomach virus. <br /><br />Thankfully, the day before Maggie was born, Mike and I bought a breast pump. I had only used it once before that day, but I was really glad we had it at that point, so that I could pump and stay quarantined away from the rest of the family. Those couple of days pumping and feeding were wonderful. I could literally see how much milk she was getting.<br /><br />When I felt better, I let her nurse again, and those same feelings of anxiety and fear came back again. I made a decision and talked to her pediatrician about it the next day. I decided to exclusively pump and feed her.<br /><br />That helped ease my anxiety for a while, but in the beginning, I was pumping over 3 oz per session. And, gradually, it turned into less and less. So much less that, even with her occasionally nursing to try to stimulate my milk, we started supplementing with formula.<br /><br />I felt - and still feel, sometimes - like a failure. I keep hearing about people who have flawless nursing experiences and wonder if they were truly flawless or, do they just leave out all the difficult, frustrating and hopeless parts??<br /><br />As of today, I am still pumping every 2 or 3 hours and only getting about an ounce, sometimes a little more each time. So, it will take about 3-4 pumping sessions to make one bottle of breast milk for her. That's not enough.<br /><br />I know that our bodies are supposed to be these amazing tools and that our bodies "know" when our milk should increase....but HOW? How long does it take for the body to make more? My body is progressively making less. I will continue to give her whatever my body makes for as long as my body makes it. It just seems like I'm going in a different direction than biology here. All the literature I've read tell me that as long as I keep pumping at a regular 2-3 hour interval schedule, that my milk supply should maintain. I have not found that to be true with me. Very frustrating and discouraging.<br /><br />Despite all of the nursing troubles, life with Maggie has been pretty amazing. Her and I just hang out together all day and I get to notice all of the things that change about her every day. Like her eyelashes growing. And her head getting bigger. Her sounds. She's grown so much. She's getting baths and can almost fit into clothes that aren't newborn sizes. I've taken about 400 pictures of her.<br /><br />This past Thursday, for Thanksgiving, my mom, Mema, brother and sister-in-law all came and we had lunch together. Maggie got to meet another great grandmother. We had 4 generations here that day. No photographic evidence. We are waiting til Christmas and getting dressed up before we take pictures.<br /><br />I'm up way too late. Time to get my beauty/momma sleep.<br /><br />Here's some pictures of my sweet baby girl.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHJC87pVHGoOLRcvtVAX6gbxeXVF__4jQlf0Dey9cQVB5QYjP8Kb4YgpraeQlECSFPeEuVmqcbCWm48tQH0OD_IyjdmGx33dtg2RBKIqfzWaLHJ9JCWzOqe9qUH4139Nd7DzVgNnDmYRz/s1600/1290478967213.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIHJC87pVHGoOLRcvtVAX6gbxeXVF__4jQlf0Dey9cQVB5QYjP8Kb4YgpraeQlECSFPeEuVmqcbCWm48tQH0OD_IyjdmGx33dtg2RBKIqfzWaLHJ9JCWzOqe9qUH4139Nd7DzVgNnDmYRz/s320/1290478967213.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544093430399407106" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TvfSad4cut4mw77mTNGk_5kytQFOx0UhHCtKOTbYBOzYaTcJ38finDi3znaJXWgago3cQFv2SAZn1iGL24lK5tyTZE5qujCkqdxL5mrStknlDuQk5oJ7TGKyyFvL0bl__N2p7ct8MFMk/s1600/282.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TvfSad4cut4mw77mTNGk_5kytQFOx0UhHCtKOTbYBOzYaTcJ38finDi3znaJXWgago3cQFv2SAZn1iGL24lK5tyTZE5qujCkqdxL5mrStknlDuQk5oJ7TGKyyFvL0bl__N2p7ct8MFMk/s320/282.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544093423279372482" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTOpGaA7a4dyQ0qJi6S4ivS1bMsNQrVTmbg3QCT3mD99nDkNgcz14Wf8tKKLlh93kOUNLTUr0aPdIyz8HqI9a481M0yUnqjRHmxM_2KcHgKuOyr4EsHTsOW9_lF53ZTWZmjfXUoFmjcDTj/s1600/271.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTOpGaA7a4dyQ0qJi6S4ivS1bMsNQrVTmbg3QCT3mD99nDkNgcz14Wf8tKKLlh93kOUNLTUr0aPdIyz8HqI9a481M0yUnqjRHmxM_2KcHgKuOyr4EsHTsOW9_lF53ZTWZmjfXUoFmjcDTj/s320/271.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544093418314922722" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaP0u3P9fW2s3T2VG_pq_9Q8YDNwIrn-SxwuqC_p8bFEWA6Mg5_XYESiDV6aroKJU9q9OpZiPPKdCzDYiC-JWgx8C_pvqlOi5x2Vn0mFOdNa8naM639lNIpWtwsIn1KF3Z2k1N1wG1LNW/s1600/255.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizaP0u3P9fW2s3T2VG_pq_9Q8YDNwIrn-SxwuqC_p8bFEWA6Mg5_XYESiDV6aroKJU9q9OpZiPPKdCzDYiC-JWgx8C_pvqlOi5x2Vn0mFOdNa8naM639lNIpWtwsIn1KF3Z2k1N1wG1LNW/s320/255.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544093418075043026" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwOQkfcseWXxPMyZTcEWgYN5woFxeb3OvtgdlAms2uNbTdHcoh-CbDrbAZSETB1PO4YibtBVh2IxG8KIv2Xd_dX0txSJsqzP95v29xK5zj9ZKxJlSX8aCeg9tp_rHw77CriTshgGaWezok/s1600/226.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwOQkfcseWXxPMyZTcEWgYN5woFxeb3OvtgdlAms2uNbTdHcoh-CbDrbAZSETB1PO4YibtBVh2IxG8KIv2Xd_dX0txSJsqzP95v29xK5zj9ZKxJlSX8aCeg9tp_rHw77CriTshgGaWezok/s320/226.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544093416062519794" /></a>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-90805939108733287392010-11-20T08:17:00.002-06:002010-11-20T20:48:56.538-06:00Hey, Maggie!Well, after nearly three weeks of getting to know my little daughter, I finally feel comfortable enough to put her down for a few minutes to update my blog.<br /><br />I think this will have to be a Three Part blog, just to cover all the bases from my last posting. I mean, so much has happened. I gave birth to baby, we brought her home. We brought her back to the hospital, and brought her home again. And, since then, we've been getting used to being full time parents to a newborn.<br /><br />So, I'll start this opus with the delivery. That is the logical beginning to this journey, after the pregnancy, of course.<br /><br />The basic timeline for my delivery is as follows:<br />Midnight 11-01-10, arrive at Labor & Delivery<br />2:30am, pitocin drip is started (let the fun begin!)<br />7:30am, Doc comes in and breaks water (now, the party's started)<br />9:30am, ask Nurse Judy (love) for something to take the edge off<br />12:40pm, begin pushing<br />1:17pm, Maggie is born!<br />1:30pm, I meet her<br />4:30pm, moved to postnatal room<br />5pm 11-03-10, check out!<br /><br /><br />Now, don't think I'm going to leave you with such an abbreviated account of that day. That just wouldn't be right. But, at this point, many of the details are a little fuzzy. My natural oxytocin and estrogen and momma hormones have been pumping for just under three weeks, blocking out any unpleasantness. But, not entirely. Some things are still fresh in my mind. Very fresh.<br /><br />My birth experience didn't happen exactly like I had planned, but I think it came very close. From my previous posts, you should know that I planned a natural childbirth. That came true. I didn't want an episiotomy, but I got one. That's ok...nothing to be sad about. Mike was my "coach" and he hung in there and was the only thing that got me through sometimes. Overall, it was very close to what I had envisioned.<br /><br />So, I'll start from the beginning. My anxiety levels the day before check in were through the roof. I couldn't sit still. Resting really wasn't an option. So, we went to Target and Walmart and bought some supplies, including a breast pump - which you will find out about more in Part II. I did manage to get a little sleep and at around 11:15pm, I was in the shower, scrubbing my belly with that soap and scrubber they give you. No time for anxiety now.<br /><br />In fact, at that point, I had reached a certain level of peace. I knew that I was going to delivery a baby and I needed to relax. And I did.<br /><br />We checked in to a very quiet hospital. They made me change into that lovely gown, took blood and inserted the IV (OUCH, I MEAN, DOUBLE OUCH). I feel asleep. I slept until 2:30 when the nurse came in to start my pitocin drip. I can't remember her name, but she was very nice. Bubbly. I'm glad she was my night nurse and not my delivery nurse. Too bubbly for delivery. Just bubbly enough to wake me up constantly to check my blood pressure and increase the pitocin.<br /><br />After the pit was started, I felt some cramping, but nothing was uncomfortable enough to keep me awake. So, I slept on and off until about 7. There was a shift change at 7, and Judy came to work. Judy is an older woman. 40 years experience delivering babies. Very friendly, but there was definitely an air of authority and no nonsense about her. She didn't bullshit or mince words. She was perfect.<br /><br />At 730, Dr. Russell came by to break my water. I forget how many centimeters I was at that point. I think I remember that I hadn't changed much. I think I was about 3. I remember being very disappointed. I thought I'd be like 6 at that point. No such luck. I do remember that breaking my water was no big deal. I didn't even feel wet. I went back to sleep.<br /><br />It didn't take long from there for my contractions to increase. They were still at levels I could control with breathing, but I knew that I would need to rest more and I was beginning to wonder if that was going to be able to happen.<br /><br />The pain wasn't something entirely unfamiliar. I had had period cramping that was around the same intensity, but the pitocin magnified everything. By 9:30, I was very uncomfortable. The kind of uncomfortable that made interactions difficult and I had to concentrate very hard on my breathing. I barely have any recollection of visitors. I know my brother got there some time around then. Sorry, Jeremy, but I don't really remember too much from that morning.<br /><br />Shortly after that is when I asked for something to take the edge off. Judy went and either got someone to give me Stadol or she did. Again, I don't remember the details. I remember Judy told me that the Stadol would be like having a margarita.<br /><br />It didn't take long to take effect, and honestly, it did nothing to ease the pain of the contractions. I DID, however, knock me completely out. The last thing I remember saying is "I've never had a margarita that made me feel like this."<br /><br />So, I got my rest. I don't know how long I was out. But, I know that when I was lucid again, everything happened really quickly, but not quickly enough.<br /><br />The contractions started coming hard and strong and there was no break in between. I was getting desperate. I could feel my hold on sanity slipping and slipping quick. I could control most of my contractions, but only if I could physically emote as well as breathe. Let me explain. If I lost my concentration for even a second, the pain was enough to make me get the urge to jump out of the bed. So, I had this method. It worked 85% of the time. I would inhale with my head back and exhale by throwing my head forward. But, the best method for controlling the urge to run or climb the walls was to combine the head movements with this arm/pull/push thing. I'd grab a big handful of Mike's shirt and inhale by pulling him forward to me, and then exhale and push him away. Poor guy was pretty manhandled by the end of the birth.<br /><br />It's difficult to organize my thoughts about the entire delivery. I can tell you that so much of it was just like people tell you. The labor is hard. It takes some serious resolve to go through it. I've been through it and I can honestly say that I still don't know what true labor feels like. I had augmented labor. Augmented labor is harder. The contractions are relentless, no breaks. At some point around 8 centimeters, Judy offered the epidural. I thought hard about it. I was nearing the end of my rope. I was shaking. I was tired. I was in some serious discomfort. I had literally said at least twice that I wanted it to be over. That I was ready. But, I still couldn't get over my fear. Even at the end of my rope, I couldn't allow some one to put a needle into my spinal cavity.<br /><br />Luckily, those last two centimeters went in about 10 minutes. I felt each one. That's one thing about going natural. I was hyper aware of each and every step. I knew that even though I was at the end of my rope and I was shaking, I knew that I was close to the end. I knew that I was in the worst part and that soon, I would be pushing. But, the worst part was really bad. I couldn't sit still, but I couldn't get up. I wanted to push, but couldn't. I wanted to sit up, but it hurt. I wanted to lay down, but it hurt. I wanted to do a lot of things. I was boiling hot. I ripped off my gown. Judy covered my breasts with a towel. I did NOT care if I was butt naked. Nothing mattered at that point but getting that baby out!<br /><br />The pushing. Wow. It's just like they say. Everything gets better. The contractions practically go away. But, it's hard. For the first few minutes, I couldn't tell if I was making any progress. Then, her head started to pass under my pubic bone. And, I could feel it. It was crazy. There was a lot of pressure. I stalled a little here. It was hard to create the pushing pressure needed to get her out. I couldn't tell if I was pushing in the right place. Judy literally had to put her fingers on my perineum so I could have a goal. But, when it worked, it worked. I could feel her head pass under my pubic bone, and come out. I could also feel my doctor numb up the area. I didn't initially want the episiotomy, but my doc said "I don't want you to tear up by your clitoris" and I didn't protest. I felt him cut me, and she came right out at that point.<br /><br />I reached down and touched her. Her head looked alien and she was all bloody, but she was amazing looking to me. My little baby. The baby nurse took her at that point and her and daddy went to the other end of the room to weigh and all the other stuff they do to babies after they come out. I got stitched up. I started active labor around 9 am and all was said and done at 1:17pm. Pretty dang quick! And, I slept through so much of it!<br /><br />The first time I held Maggie, she was wrapped in about 4 blankets and had that little hat on. Literally a little bundle of joy. She didn't want to nurse, just sleep. I was starving. She was exhausted from her journey<br /><br />Judy told me that I could eat after I got up and peed twice, so I got up and peed both times. I was up and walking very soon after delivery.<br /><br />Maggie continued to have difficulty getting the hang of breast feeding, but at 3am that night, something clicked and she drank for the first time. I wonder if that's why she's fond of being awake at 3 am now. Ha.<br /><br />Those hours after she was born are hard for me to remember. I do remember that everyone kept telling me to put her in the plastic baby bed, but I slept with her on my chest the first night, and next to me the next night. I was so nervous to leave her alone. She was so small. Leaving her alone in that plastic box seemed so horrible. So, I didn't. :)<br /><br />She's still most comfortable passed out on my chest. And, I like it like that.<br /><br />TO BE CONTINUED....Part II, Bringing Home Baby will come soon!!<br /><br />Here's pictures of her Birth Day.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbJYU_hxZFgKolD8w1UyUe7IvfUsxY_qx-enkKk9KJdA_gKCBm2vEq7KAxasamxPdfToIByBV6vkt9OOD7cY_8PnasXr8OqjmpRTDo22JDZxZJ4hsWqUNkIXIDmHhtpdCe63F0XV1kS8J/s1600/P1030917.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbJYU_hxZFgKolD8w1UyUe7IvfUsxY_qx-enkKk9KJdA_gKCBm2vEq7KAxasamxPdfToIByBV6vkt9OOD7cY_8PnasXr8OqjmpRTDo22JDZxZJ4hsWqUNkIXIDmHhtpdCe63F0XV1kS8J/s320/P1030917.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541811111473201554" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSIFox_xjDUmzT5nyHap-s7RHrpqf0AEKh5CaPUG5RWOGs0oAkmVcZ0Kf3v7E0n-KDo4XVxll-DTfLjScrFkcSq6ywxPjmiqFMMNnArB-kvSHOMCvkvKG8wYTLBoOqxu7BYv-vGcE8z-4/s1600/P1030900.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwSIFox_xjDUmzT5nyHap-s7RHrpqf0AEKh5CaPUG5RWOGs0oAkmVcZ0Kf3v7E0n-KDo4XVxll-DTfLjScrFkcSq6ywxPjmiqFMMNnArB-kvSHOMCvkvKG8wYTLBoOqxu7BYv-vGcE8z-4/s320/P1030900.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541811103816172994" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyWWNR23Jy5ZX6PAtRz22etaI3POwe4jFD_eSsleVKjM7vR1UI25XON3Ynlz5ho2vDxj9r8IWRlNyRWeKcjRAWYYyW0miMrK9G8fYGpY2b5ETDWChdsp0HI1asyYU5KYHlQZhJXB6dNqkO/s1600/P1030886.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyWWNR23Jy5ZX6PAtRz22etaI3POwe4jFD_eSsleVKjM7vR1UI25XON3Ynlz5ho2vDxj9r8IWRlNyRWeKcjRAWYYyW0miMrK9G8fYGpY2b5ETDWChdsp0HI1asyYU5KYHlQZhJXB6dNqkO/s320/P1030886.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541811097362088530" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhRUkV8BKjA5_k2PwLmisGonw3mbE52si16irV7I18UiTpQ8YZ9_S-cIGPdM5H_swljsH8l-GJXVAggEs7pILp0dPGEervIIp8C905-pVoqc7wIwjL2sQGesL8S8Y9Rov7tRXjP6S-7J3/s1600/P1030878.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXhRUkV8BKjA5_k2PwLmisGonw3mbE52si16irV7I18UiTpQ8YZ9_S-cIGPdM5H_swljsH8l-GJXVAggEs7pILp0dPGEervIIp8C905-pVoqc7wIwjL2sQGesL8S8Y9Rov7tRXjP6S-7J3/s320/P1030878.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541811088657100098" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUkfa4WIbvIVQNwk71pKgOf8DwVHatsbxszY9R8bJZZjegeLdlH7UjK3PCIDrdljfJjXY4hxTX5w8fPzA_8Sc0_BbetP6EZy-IJlVkVFPrntoz3ctom-NEhMDa-3gn4fLsCPBLJWRbXhb/s1600/P1030872.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUkfa4WIbvIVQNwk71pKgOf8DwVHatsbxszY9R8bJZZjegeLdlH7UjK3PCIDrdljfJjXY4hxTX5w8fPzA_8Sc0_BbetP6EZy-IJlVkVFPrntoz3ctom-NEhMDa-3gn4fLsCPBLJWRbXhb/s320/P1030872.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5541811076233962066" /></a>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-73802545160641950542010-10-30T08:58:00.005-05:002010-10-30T10:08:00.302-05:00The end of an era...Well, this is officially the last post as a pregnant woman. I haven't quite accepted that yet. Though, I'm very ready to see my baby and end the pregnancy, I am very anxious about how she'll get here.<br /><br />For the last few months, she has been growing ahead of schedule. These last few weeks, Doc has been monitoring her twice a week to make sure she isn't in any distress. She's been fine, but her ultrasounds have shown that she is very large. Well, after much consideration, I have decided to induce. So, this Monday, November 1st, I will be a mom to a baby girl, Maggie Melissa Conner.<br /><br />It was a tough decision, but it made me feel good to make it. It did actually decrease the anxiety that I was having, which at times was nearly paralyzing. I even convinced myself that she would come this weekend, now that she has a deadline. It doesn't look like that's going to happen. While I have been having contractions, nothing has been steady. <br /><br />I am tired. I have been resting, not washing ceilings or anything. But, I'm still tired. My body is a freak show. Haha. I consider myself lucky that all these weeks and months have gone by and I have had very little to complain about. I haven't suffered any back pain, leg cramps, lack of sleep or incontinence. I was able to work until this past Tuesday. I haven't been too uncomfortable to drive or eat. That was until these last 2 or 3 weeks. Now, nothing I have experienced in the last 3 weeks has been intolerable, but I guess I was spoiled to the normalcy I had been feeling. <br /><br />I haven't been sleeping <span style="font-style:italic;">as well</span> as I was before. I toss and turn to get comfortable and get up to pee about 4 times a night, but that's not so bad.<br /><br />I even had a little twinge in my lower back for a few weeks that hindered my ability to lay flat on my back. Well, that only happened at the doctor's office, so that wasn't a problem either.<br /><br />The largest problem has been my stomach. No pun intended. Nothing else grew on my body. I have the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. This is been my downfall. What has caused my greatest discomfort. <br /><br />There is a huge physical change that occurs in your abdomen while you're pregnant. Most prominently, the diastisis recti. In the non-pregnant anatomy, your rectus abdominus (the 6 pack) bellies are neatly stacked parallel to each other. In the pregnant anatomy, as the uterus grows, the abdominal muscles separate to allow for expansion. The larger the uterus, the larger the separation. That's why no one should believe the Octo-mom when she says her abdominal muscles went back to the way they were before she had a litter of 8 children - without medical intervention. Google it. It's a freak show. <br /><br />The rectus abdominus is a large muscle, spanning from the base of your sternum all the way to your pubic bone. My diastisis recti has been pulling mercilessly at the attachment on the pubic bone. It HURTS. I can't stay idle for too long because using my abs to get up or lift my legs after a period of rest is very uncomfortable. <br /><br />Other than that complaint, my overwhelming anxiety has been my biggest challenge. I tell myself every day that women all over the globe go through this and they all have their fears and worries, and it all turns out ok. Then, I think of pushing a child through my vagina. <br /><br />Well, enough about the bad stuff....here's the good stuff!<br /><br />I have packed my bags and am ready for the hospital. I brought like 8 outfits to put Maggie in. Just in case. :)<br /><br />The house is on its way to being clean - thank you, Jackie, in advance for your help.<br /><br />My marriage hasn't imploded from my anxiety. In fact, Mike and I just celebrated our 1 year anniversary last weekend. He took me and my Great Pumpkin out to dinner. It was wonderful. The food was incredible and we had a nice, private table.<br />He also surprised me with jewelery. A matching necklace/earring set. He's got a good eye for stuff I'll like. :) Then, we watched Cain Velasquez become the first Latino UFC Heavyweight champion, beating out Brock Lesnar. It was like baby Jesus himself had a hand in making our anniversary perfect.<br /><br />I am almost done organizing Maggie's room. It's not much. Just putting clothes where they belong. No big deal there.<br /><br />I'm on the edge of the cliff, about to jump. Before I do, let's take a look back at the many months of pregnancy and the progression of the Great Pumpkin.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQE0TKi8zMihBy0rOCZxZzNVr_u8XZ9tMzobEJAcqFAleuIG9cQCEoCLXQkakKj-tOweb4D7sYq_E9Gcn8so2KwZ_7nrWGOx3zk3CmzNs61awnRF0bNazvd_rIxxk4raCwuF9g9TwXWDq0/s1600/16+weeks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQE0TKi8zMihBy0rOCZxZzNVr_u8XZ9tMzobEJAcqFAleuIG9cQCEoCLXQkakKj-tOweb4D7sYq_E9Gcn8so2KwZ_7nrWGOx3zk3CmzNs61awnRF0bNazvd_rIxxk4raCwuF9g9TwXWDq0/s320/16+weeks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533853685166982402" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtX6yiF5ccH_Y7tZPyrLpbVZglNhiEJ9fo8iVkRdl32Mfp-OZM60juKGYNIlAk2dhw5WkvLgjkDd92dIiSXRixwXlTpDPsz5lARrelALfC196cwZ6tSSZ9Dy2lx0IWX-riFrYYLFUN7uzC/s1600/22+weeks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtX6yiF5ccH_Y7tZPyrLpbVZglNhiEJ9fo8iVkRdl32Mfp-OZM60juKGYNIlAk2dhw5WkvLgjkDd92dIiSXRixwXlTpDPsz5lARrelALfC196cwZ6tSSZ9Dy2lx0IWX-riFrYYLFUN7uzC/s320/22+weeks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533853681647690674" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVxSiZziBrGtbrwgIRWCjrmEsdqzZCIyO8OUiJK2GSJ4MMyqmWMqzJYvNTkO2YoKkaEJYtynCGwK51zSXjNbvS3Jg7QC9IFVIihzNluSEz4gaSvpvtYo_XCDRWCPhRi-nMNVVZLztyGjG/s1600/27+weeks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsVxSiZziBrGtbrwgIRWCjrmEsdqzZCIyO8OUiJK2GSJ4MMyqmWMqzJYvNTkO2YoKkaEJYtynCGwK51zSXjNbvS3Jg7QC9IFVIihzNluSEz4gaSvpvtYo_XCDRWCPhRi-nMNVVZLztyGjG/s320/27+weeks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533853677119202642" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgls_Md_d9ssABc1XvcnJTpCJHMdjluI6eYHO3oMk6AL9cZRME9pV0c_X3detgZbYQbsF6dzovsBp7yAZyHpDMAhoJn7L2nrulr7kqbDHLbpnF87ilsNZNygCiSCJEgutGKohMQV8NStdlD/s1600/30+weeks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgls_Md_d9ssABc1XvcnJTpCJHMdjluI6eYHO3oMk6AL9cZRME9pV0c_X3detgZbYQbsF6dzovsBp7yAZyHpDMAhoJn7L2nrulr7kqbDHLbpnF87ilsNZNygCiSCJEgutGKohMQV8NStdlD/s320/30+weeks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533853676765088146" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Legst85fmLHYPWpHqwqCqJSNewslyIWo_KSgw8LA-V5H17aeOSMRG_3qtzc0MeuzPhyphenhyphenvsbWyImC5h6-bcpNFNiCvM9CFZK0KQdrQvcjZSliAcpAwvb-EkJlYePLAB8JJAMzFD6cWFVMt/s1600/33+weeks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Legst85fmLHYPWpHqwqCqJSNewslyIWo_KSgw8LA-V5H17aeOSMRG_3qtzc0MeuzPhyphenhyphenvsbWyImC5h6-bcpNFNiCvM9CFZK0KQdrQvcjZSliAcpAwvb-EkJlYePLAB8JJAMzFD6cWFVMt/s320/33+weeks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533853127121758162" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLx72C4YoHqsPt3skxYIHNxrq4Sz1nsznbIkI1owojoltdUoKkbpqXL_ZvgYrgF1EzfuzlaxWTvy69v6bkGgjzdcyM2WmWN1jKWQQ9ldnBz5Bpw7UnbrZmyHohcnjPWAc6_291CSq1slf/s1600/35+weeks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGLx72C4YoHqsPt3skxYIHNxrq4Sz1nsznbIkI1owojoltdUoKkbpqXL_ZvgYrgF1EzfuzlaxWTvy69v6bkGgjzdcyM2WmWN1jKWQQ9ldnBz5Bpw7UnbrZmyHohcnjPWAc6_291CSq1slf/s320/35+weeks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533853123751856034" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxoKbwSucdaVraFPx6zOJkTxOeL4691kzkX59S1ic5p82yIqg6OsauJZ9pUIHBnze-dMknWIxJB9awtHjlFMm0iJ9DKiRUVuJ-0z-_SD41W176mw4U1Fqx37Qd0gbOP4aXdv3EB7Zn12kH/s1600/37+weeks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxoKbwSucdaVraFPx6zOJkTxOeL4691kzkX59S1ic5p82yIqg6OsauJZ9pUIHBnze-dMknWIxJB9awtHjlFMm0iJ9DKiRUVuJ-0z-_SD41W176mw4U1Fqx37Qd0gbOP4aXdv3EB7Zn12kH/s320/37+weeks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533853123286793282" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8qeCywEFUW3NJ7noWm_G0M7wuDtn2rRptsapHYecG4crgNLUnqaA2SFookHrZgvPzr3rGsE-HEv5sHyNM-45bycePCpjgDf3BZuT8FiYRO7b0u7TSaHEcksZqF_5AXTYpMCWUNE8C-a-V/s1600/2010-10-29_20-58-53_508.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8qeCywEFUW3NJ7noWm_G0M7wuDtn2rRptsapHYecG4crgNLUnqaA2SFookHrZgvPzr3rGsE-HEv5sHyNM-45bycePCpjgDf3BZuT8FiYRO7b0u7TSaHEcksZqF_5AXTYpMCWUNE8C-a-V/s320/2010-10-29_20-58-53_508.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533853118975246418" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzd3XtUTgzAycS68IJZ-MeXd_jsxaLPZclWcoIpb1_SpU5XJ5JtD1U0URgsZ5C0p5b-7JOX4zUnktD_ZbEVbun9JL2BYahO_STnJqXRpl35paHXa2QTbwHofzJx45zAKaaQ5Xh8MvT3Rso/s1600/2010-10-30_08-56-17_225.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzd3XtUTgzAycS68IJZ-MeXd_jsxaLPZclWcoIpb1_SpU5XJ5JtD1U0URgsZ5C0p5b-7JOX4zUnktD_ZbEVbun9JL2BYahO_STnJqXRpl35paHXa2QTbwHofzJx45zAKaaQ5Xh8MvT3Rso/s320/2010-10-30_08-56-17_225.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533853114892132354" /></a><br />I threw in a shot of me doing the laundry last night, from the rear. Just to brag that I don't look pregnant from EVERY angle. :)<br /><br />The next blog post will be about my daughter....so....stay tuned....this baby has finished brewing!!Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-42690909292686881202010-10-09T09:45:00.005-05:002010-10-09T10:27:24.400-05:00Too much paranoia....Yeah, yeah, I know I posted yesterday, but I've been saving up some good stuff for the last month.<br /><br />On our September 14th ultrasound, Doc measured her up, and calculated that she was 5lbs 4oz. At 32 weeks, that put her about 2lbs larger than most babies her age. It explained a lot. Mainly, why people are constantly telling me how huge I am. Now, at least I can blame it on the baby!<br /><br />Well, that news started a little fire. A little fire of anxiety. Most babies gain about 1/2lb each week in the womb during the 3rd trimester. So, I calculate that at this time, she weighs 7lbs, 2oz, which means by her due date, she would weigh 10lbs, 2oz. Whoa. I mean, seriously? All along, I've had this idea that I would want a natural childbirth. But, do I want to naturally push out a 3 month old??? So, I start to panic. What if Doc wants to induce early? What if I actually make it til the due date and she's huge and gets stuck (shoulder dystocia)and I have to have a C-section?? What if, what if, what if??? I get heart palpitations writing this.<br /><br />Well, no sense in getting too scared, right? Talk to me after you push out a 10 pound baby out of your vag. <br /><br />Luckily, Doc wants at least one more ultrasound, and we're going next week. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that her growth has slowed and that she's not reaching Godzilla-type proportions in there.<br /><br />And, save your faces. Don't tell me how huge I am. No more free passes. I will claw out your eyes. <br /><br />Just the whole delivery process in general is giving me serious anxiety. I thought that if I educated myself to all possible scenarios, watched videos, read the books, took the classes that I would be more ready. I am ready, don't get me wrong, but I don't know if I'm ready ready. It's this huge event that I can only prepare <span style="font-style:italic;">so much</span> for. The rest is out of my hands, and I have a hard time accepting that. Who's a control freak?? ME! Just ask anyone who helped me plan my wedding. My way or the highway, even if I wasn't Bridezilla, I was still very adamant on how I wanted it to be. I never compromised my vision.<br /><br />Birth isn't like that. You have to give in. Go with the flow. Meditate. Relax. <br /><br />YEAH RIGHT!<br /><br />As if that wasn't enough, there's the different viewpoints, family traditions, historical data and styles of parenting. I think I've found something that I truly like and believe in. It's called Attachment Parenting. It's like the opposite of how most of us were raised in the Dr. Spock era. Now, for all you baby-boomer Mommas out there, this is NOT an attack on how you raised us. I just like this new philosophy. In 30 years, they'll have Detachment Parenting, or Umbilical Parenting or Conjoined Parenting or some such nonsense and my daughter will be schooling me.<br /><br />Among other things, Attachment Parenting advocates babywearing. Simple explanation, the closer baby is to mom/dad, the more confident she becomes in her "need signals" and therefore grows up to be a more independent child. One of the ways you can wear your baby is with a sling.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIba75_JNQJ0jA6Nakwty9E7njkXg9Tk4lrLJncGaEo83-JbDMfMC9YIMwHMn_gYER7emGzewNcOGbuzgwjIhvnqrLyEjIOE3mJnNtT676TUpsgT5_23n1Dpnr0AhW5zj1rjVVGZ30cmtO/s1600/baby+sling+lady.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIba75_JNQJ0jA6Nakwty9E7njkXg9Tk4lrLJncGaEo83-JbDMfMC9YIMwHMn_gYER7emGzewNcOGbuzgwjIhvnqrLyEjIOE3mJnNtT676TUpsgT5_23n1Dpnr0AhW5zj1rjVVGZ30cmtO/s320/baby+sling+lady.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526064772332566962" /></a><br /><br />The sling has always made me nervous, so instead, I registered for a carrier.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8lt8cSvHlPlTI5Jp0E_Xv9_RBuF4SHZDkh04pDbH6bQgEwtnBCoq1Icsaa1sYv74EmBsX34G2FJGNDC1y613IJvjOezJh5oHSCMfOTFgeDarPHBBujC6iAZ-VQwttmtSd1zp8i9OfDBV/s1600/baby+carrier+guy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8lt8cSvHlPlTI5Jp0E_Xv9_RBuF4SHZDkh04pDbH6bQgEwtnBCoq1Icsaa1sYv74EmBsX34G2FJGNDC1y613IJvjOezJh5oHSCMfOTFgeDarPHBBujC6iAZ-VQwttmtSd1zp8i9OfDBV/s320/baby+carrier+guy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526065258678590290" /></a><br /><br />Well, the more I read in my book about the sling, I decided that it is a must have item for my little baby and I to have a good relationship. As I'm reading about the benefits of sling-wearing, I get to the "HOW TO" section. I'm reading up,looking at the pictures, all the while my heart is beating faster and faster. I have successfully stressed myself out reading about how to put a baby in a sling. Well, the directions are written half in Latin and half in some physics language I can't understand. All I know is that I'm not smart enough to successfully put my baby in the sling without serious damage to her neurological function. <br /><br />So, I email my friend Joan. She's a lawyer. She's smart enough.<br /><br />And, boy, am I glad I did. She did not disappoint! She sent me links from YouTube that demonstrate how to put the baby in the sling, and no Latin or Physics was involved. Some regular lady put her baby in a sling with no diving, flipping or triple salchows.<br /><br />Joan, thank you. The anxiety is still there, but at least I have the self-confidence again to at least give it a shot! :)<br /><br />As the delivery of my baby nears, I'm getting very anxious to meet her. I'm very ready. I dream about breast-feeding some kid (and sometimes animal) every night. The nursery is done. All of her laundry is clean. I'm packing her hospital bag tonight. Mine too. I'm not sure there's anything left for me to do but wait.<br /><br />And, in the words of Tom Petty: "Waaai-aaai-tin is the hardest part."Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-33303445220912350102010-10-08T10:04:00.004-05:002010-10-08T10:58:52.850-05:00The finish line approaches....Seems like nothing and everything has been happening. We've had a busy month!<br /><br />Isabella turned 3! I'm sure she had an incredible birthday. I mean, it lasted more than a week! It started with Mimi coming down to the Bayou for Labor Day and lots of arts and crafts and "getting away with murder" occurred. I'm exaggerating, but Izzy sure does love her Mimi. The following (her actual birthday) weekend, she had a party at Chuck E Cheese. And, even though she was scared witless of the big mouse, she had a great time dancing, playing, slurping down cake icing and reveling in all the attention. At home after the party, as her father and I tried to figure out how to get her toys out of the boxes (it's like safe-cracking), she sat on the couch, surrounded by Disney Princess Barbies, eyes drooping, very content. When it was time to go to bed, she didn't even argue. Just grabbed Belle and headed upstairs. She was pooped!<br />The next day, her daddy and I went to Academy and bought her a swing set! <br /><br />She spent some of that day with her mom, so we had the set partially assembled when she got home. After we finally convinced her it was a swing set, she ran up to her daddy, wrapped her arms around his legs and said "OH MY GOD! Daddy, I LOVE YOU, I LOVE YOU!" Daddy was smart and gave credit where credit was due, and informed her that it was my idea, so I got big hugs and loves too. :)<br /><br />Well, that was the end of the lovelies. All hell broke loose very shortly after. In the form of poop. Yes, poop. And we all know how I feel about poop. Especially 3 year old poop.<br /><br />Poor girl, this story may haunt her for the rest of her life. Briefly, there were 3 outfits involved and waay too much Clorox.<br /><br />Her and I were sitting on a blanket, watching Daddy put the finishing touches on the swing set. Izzy never seemed uncomfortable, but suddenly she was very sad. I asked her what was wrong and she said that she couldn't tell me. I was confused. Since when does a 3 year old know how to keep secrets. So, I switch modes, letting her know that it was ok and that she could tell me anything. That didn't work either, she still had her head down, and she couldn't tell me. Then, I got a whiff. I asked her if she poopooed in her panties and she said yes. So, very calmly, we went in and cleaned her all up. It wasn't pleasant, but it was very quick and calm. That was the last time I could use the word calm to describe this evening.<br /><br />We go back outside, and I tell her to help daddy because I have to start dinner. I tell her to tell her dad if she has to poop again. She was cool with that. So, now in outfit #2, she heads over to her daddy and I go to begin dinner. She had this "sign" that happened when she was about to poop that night....quick crawfishing into the garage. I'm not sure why she picked that, but it happened. I hear crying and I go out and she's upset, so I know she pooped again. So, I inform Daddy that it's his turn, and we all go into the bathroom, where Mike promptly begins taking off the dirty panties. I see this all going down, but there's nothing I can do to stop it. The poop begins to fall out of the panties, backwards onto the floor. On it's way down, it takes a detour down Izzy's leg. This is where the fun begins. Izzy doesn't like to get dirty. She will use 25 napkins at a meal to avoid anything being anywhere. So, she was HORRIFIED to have POOP on her leg. She starts wailing. Mike is prostrate. She gets plopped on the toilet, where the wailing gets worse. Round #2 comes to a close. Two pairs of panties are now in the trash, the poop has been cleaned from all parts and the floor. We put on her favorite PJs and she and daddy go back outside to play on the newly finished swing set, again telling her to let daddy know if she has to poopoo.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt2xrqZwrOvOyWrRvtwaEzrh3gHYzUIe9YMQjQKBuy1SEQWnuHLSbb-YB9Dxxx4RE8ULUM7dqMn0z7wSHEqdSUW_17EoHtYHJ3QmIN7SA9GbHOOfwXrDtqPl-QkIUUTxdsHT_3XA213h-R/s1600/Izzy+swing.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt2xrqZwrOvOyWrRvtwaEzrh3gHYzUIe9YMQjQKBuy1SEQWnuHLSbb-YB9Dxxx4RE8ULUM7dqMn0z7wSHEqdSUW_17EoHtYHJ3QmIN7SA9GbHOOfwXrDtqPl-QkIUUTxdsHT_3XA213h-R/s320/Izzy+swing.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525696190520849426" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxvkTbMmOmeoHDGCau0LVfWxcOyqzSgiMG93Ae_jbCwVc2KFf19KoCV3v9C14i8nclt17PzKlrZxvBMENjLZkvXkaQWA5zmoT6edzGS5m6k6zf9xvsO4WJvM4vYXk6uctstfmNCtQSuzO/s1600/izzy+slinde.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxvkTbMmOmeoHDGCau0LVfWxcOyqzSgiMG93Ae_jbCwVc2KFf19KoCV3v9C14i8nclt17PzKlrZxvBMENjLZkvXkaQWA5zmoT6edzGS5m6k6zf9xvsO4WJvM4vYXk6uctstfmNCtQSuzO/s320/izzy+slinde.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525696169608800194" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0OachyWO5IQsj81uVIlG0p1e3Vbc0UdWU8tQSg3GwGkOM9wEVxGLGKIpKvRNZID7OlX2SvSzgG2hZNHqNaHjTFVlWr_qpzVLKnOlICmWUaOALULiGO1_8YtJSNlognewPPFQjZ2gBJ1rT/s1600/Izzy+seesaw.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0OachyWO5IQsj81uVIlG0p1e3Vbc0UdWU8tQSg3GwGkOM9wEVxGLGKIpKvRNZID7OlX2SvSzgG2hZNHqNaHjTFVlWr_qpzVLKnOlICmWUaOALULiGO1_8YtJSNlognewPPFQjZ2gBJ1rT/s320/Izzy+seesaw.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525696160874003522" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrDImC9OtLOEOWj-982vat9IdZ-LzIOb80QIWUC51P8nentsDl-rvWCFFsiRzr0mLE9d7AUW3pa4ScuqO1YCfakxKqEw8lyEGdUDL3cVx-rheYTE2-3S-dXgYpwJ2Jza26i5qr0F10Ekf/s1600/izzy+glides.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrDImC9OtLOEOWj-982vat9IdZ-LzIOb80QIWUC51P8nentsDl-rvWCFFsiRzr0mLE9d7AUW3pa4ScuqO1YCfakxKqEw8lyEGdUDL3cVx-rheYTE2-3S-dXgYpwJ2Jza26i5qr0F10Ekf/s320/izzy+glides.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525696150883881202" /></a><br /><br />Thinking that she couldn't possibly poop anymore, I continue cooking and Mike and her get some play time in. I take some pictures and go back inside. Very shortly after, I hear "I HAVE TO POO! I HAVE TO POO!" and Mike comes running inside, Isabella tucked under his arm like a football. Well, the effort was valiant, but too late. Mike doesn't know this yet, but I do. He pulls down her pants, and all I see is poop, but his only interest is to get her on the potty and doesn't check for poop. The next thing happened in slow motion. As he's putting her on the potty, her panties stick the the toilet, poo side out. I try to stop him, but it's too late. My toiled got stamped, and stamped hard with that poop. But, being the wonderful husband that he is, he listens to me and pulls her away from the toilet again, but only after the entire front had been coated with a layer of poop. At that point, all I could do was laugh, grab a roll of paper towels and the Clorox.<br /><br />The rest is history. Isabella got a bath, we all ate dinner, and kept our fingers crossed that our evening of poop was over. Thankfully, it was.<br /><br />Unfortunately, Isabella seemed to have some more anxiety about pooping and gave a repeated performance for her teacher and mommy in the days to follow. No offense guys, but glad it wasn't me.<br /><br />Fate intervened and we were able to keep Izz for the majority of the month of September. This past week, she pooped THREE times all by herself. I had to "instigate" it by pretending to poop myself once, but it WORKED, and poop ON THE POTTY followed. Hopefully, we'll never have an evening like the evening of her third birthday. It was memorable. For sure.<br /><br />Luckily, the weather is getting mild enough for her to actually PLAY with her new swing set. One evening, I was at work, and Mike and Izz were playing outside. She had brought one of her Princesses outside to swing and slide with her. She took such good care of her Barbie, carefully holding her on the swing so she wouldn't fall down or mess up her hair. Izzy gently placed her on the seesaw so Barbie and daddy could seesaw together. Barbie even got a ride down the slide. Izzy was so sweet and took care of her little friend while they were playing. Mike said, at that point, Izzy saw a mosquito and proceeded to smack that mosquito to heaven with her Barbie's perfectly coiffed head. Afterward, she smoothed her dress and her hair and asked her Daddy was he was laughing so hard. What does Izzy hate more than getting dirty? Bugs.<br /><br />I could tell stories about that child all day....she's the funniest thing I've ever met.<br /><br />Two days after Izz's birthday, we had an ultrasound. And, for the first time in 32 weeks, we legitimately got to see our baby's privates. The first thing I saw when Dr. Russell put the US wand on my belly was a nunee! No doubt about it, we're having a girl. All I remember is feeling this weight lift off me. I didn't realize how I had stressed not knowing what was in there. I couldn't wait....I immediately went to Old Navy and bought some clothes!<br /><br />Now that we know it's a girl, there's the process of naming the baby. Naming a human is difficult. I will admit that I cause most of that difficulty. I do not want to name my child anything in the top 100 names, but I also don't want to name her something that she'll get made fun of for, either. I do some research, and nothing is really grabbing me. Luckily, I have Mike. In one evening, he had read the entire "girl" section of the baby names book and written down about a dozen that he liked. <br /><br />Well, there's one we like, but we're not telling. :) p.s. If we told you, keep it a secret!<br /><br />As if that week couldn't get any busier, that Saturday, I had my shower. I think I had the best shower on the planet, but I'm sure most new mommies feel that way.<br />I had some great food (desserts!), great company and a nice haul to help me get my life in order before my baby comes!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiETEurt7kIAyJ_ScAFhZve_Q-kOIbzhortHAqO5VKaqaKl-hqDVBy9lzENffX3t0zJVwWXcB1D2G1iqrh4vXdTcVmqm-vuvAnkWMHqToi0JhTKK_qEAL1pH34CJ5zUfDkB8TJ0vyVLynm/s1600/nanny+and+neice.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiETEurt7kIAyJ_ScAFhZve_Q-kOIbzhortHAqO5VKaqaKl-hqDVBy9lzENffX3t0zJVwWXcB1D2G1iqrh4vXdTcVmqm-vuvAnkWMHqToi0JhTKK_qEAL1pH34CJ5zUfDkB8TJ0vyVLynm/s320/nanny+and+neice.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525702074700709010" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPLF-lHU3deh6gxkSJaEkMIqEm4KE6dOslOtnXLk-5jFMXZKGPSlB1FLb4wzu_MpO8ZkpoyRyglY9v_EDFRjV8ExcXayL1tdYPsqM0LaoFu0OXTo-UUsfksTpgdOTRrrtB3wTznL2QAApr/s1600/family+shower.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPLF-lHU3deh6gxkSJaEkMIqEm4KE6dOslOtnXLk-5jFMXZKGPSlB1FLb4wzu_MpO8ZkpoyRyglY9v_EDFRjV8ExcXayL1tdYPsqM0LaoFu0OXTo-UUsfksTpgdOTRrrtB3wTznL2QAApr/s320/family+shower.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525702066940746162" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYt-0tzOE8Pv9AmOIIrPJs3NmOa-Dyh908pAuCLcirAxd0W3ck1WRtZ1d6Y_sfqbbkw6hlapm7KpnccLKK8O6aFrrINuQqUxVasqtewEVh8wVtvt9BP8msHrIFMusRmzRDvuyOaEdW-Kb/s1600/jeremy+and+neice.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDYt-0tzOE8Pv9AmOIIrPJs3NmOa-Dyh908pAuCLcirAxd0W3ck1WRtZ1d6Y_sfqbbkw6hlapm7KpnccLKK8O6aFrrINuQqUxVasqtewEVh8wVtvt9BP8msHrIFMusRmzRDvuyOaEdW-Kb/s320/jeremy+and+neice.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525702061593062290" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHrrJ_gjwnkOw7P3zYum0QyH3uue7yVBx885kmv9cvqu5aZaTXWHpSDNZXWota94rK9PHY-fa6GduraMQNLFdyN9OMrgTa_l3nQ-fSHQXaGbVYW722VZ0eYD6GjdLBK-YMxd2czdkCA17/s1600/shower+food.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRHrrJ_gjwnkOw7P3zYum0QyH3uue7yVBx885kmv9cvqu5aZaTXWHpSDNZXWota94rK9PHY-fa6GduraMQNLFdyN9OMrgTa_l3nQ-fSHQXaGbVYW722VZ0eYD6GjdLBK-YMxd2czdkCA17/s320/shower+food.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525702054885132578" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />I finished up September with a couple of 40 hour work weeks, which led to some tears and exhaustion, but got through it. After, I had an entire week off with NOTHING to do, NO responsibilities for Blue Cliff College. There was a whole lotta nothing happening that week.<br /><br />Well, we did start our Prepared Childbirth classes. I was really worried that I was going to be delivering my baby on a bail of hay in a barn. Let me explain. I have made up my mind several times over that because I live in Houma, and I was unable to find birthing classes that fit my "birth personality" that the hospital I will be delivering in was some backwoods, 1950s era death trap. Well, since I've been attending classes, I feel much much better about my options. Houma isn't THAT far down the bayou. Seems like I will be given many options for labor and delivery and no one will really look at me all that crazy since I'm not going "the norm".<br /><br />These last few weeks have been stressful. For me, and our little family, but thankfully, things are looking up. I mean, in about 5 weeks, we will be welcoming a brand new addition! So, despite some of the curve balls we've been thrown in the last 10 or so days, things truly are looking up. <br /><br />Even if I can't see my toes anymore.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-2624907795984898082010-09-08T13:17:00.002-05:002010-09-08T13:55:18.420-05:00All is well.....As the date of introduction nears, I continue to get more and more anxious. I cannot wait to meet this little person. Finally get to see its face and touch it's little fingers and toes. Dress it up in cute little outfits and hang out at the house. :)<br /><br />There is a reality that is slowly setting in that in a time that could be anywhere from 6-10 weeks, this introduction is going to happen.<br /><br />The anxiety is palpable. And, following the current trends, just like the books all tell me, I am experiencing the mood swings to prove it. I still feel a little underprepared, and I think not knowing the sex of the baby has a little to do with that. I only have one item of clothing, though I window shop online at least an hour every day. I like unisex, neutral baby clothes, but there is limited selection, really. I want my kid to be dressed in more than yellow, green and white. <br /><br />Well, next Tuesday, I have another sonogram scheduled. And, since this little child has spent more time head-down, I think this one will be "the one." It would be very convenient if it's true, since my shower is next weekend.<br /><br />I haven't spoken much about my first visit with my new doctor, or any of the subsequent visits. Well, no news is good news. I have no complaints. From day one, Dr. Russell has been funny, engaging and willing to sit and answer questions with honesty and straight-forwardness. He has an extremely friendly staff that SMILES at me. I was nervous for the first visit. I had a list of questions in my little memo book. I was worried he wouldn't take me seriously, or think I was some whacked out hippy. But, he really never flinched. He commended me on my commitment and answered my questions honestly, no sugar-coating, no "PC" answers. I really appreciated that. His nurses/staff were all smiles and laughing and I could tell they enjoyed working there. That says something about a doctor.<br /><br />The next few visits were routine, and I have to brag here: my BP has been perfect. The last reading was like 95/73. Which - if you don't know - is AWESOME. I'm gaining the required amount of weight. No more. My ass is still flat (a little disappointing.) I am gaining a little chunk here and there, which is just more to love. The baby has been growing well and moving really well. I was hooked up yesterday for a non-stress test and the baby practiced it's Olympic pummel horse routine. I was taken off monitoring after 10 minutes (which they were expecting 15-25) because my baby reacted so well to the apple juice.<br /><br />I guess I was made to be pregnant. My only complaint - and this is very recently - is my back is beginning to fatigue. I get sore spots....not really even pain, just areas that don't feel "normal." I know most of it is from my posture, which was always blah. I walk down the hall at work and have to stay conscious of my shoulders. They'll be at my ears if I'm not careful. I guess I'm trying to help myself breathe, now that the baby is starting to take my my lung space.<br /><br />I'm not waddling yet. <br /><br />I am all baby. I know this is true because at least 10 people tell me every day how ginormous I am and that I "for sure" have more than one baby in there. One girl - who I don't know - said "wow, you must be about done" and when I told her I had 12 weeks left, she just shook her head, exhaled slowly and walked away. I didn't know what to make of that. And then my students - who I love, even after this - tell me every day how huge I am. I am not huge! I can still see my toes! Kind of.<br /><br />My boss - who I rarely interact with - sees me and starts pretending to "clear" the area like a WIDE LOAD is coming through. He's hilarious. Let me tell you.<br /><br />But, even though I am getting big and people like to tell me how big I am, it's worse to have them not say anything at all. There's one person that I encounter regularly who has this look. I don't know how to describe it....pity, maybe? Like I'm a hobbly ole cripple barely making it down to my class. Looking at me like at any moment my world will just collapse. It's strange. I can tell you this: I like that look a lot less than the tummy rubs and Buddha and twin comments.<br /><br />Wow, this was one disorderly blog. Let me end with this:<br />I am having a wonderful pregnancy. I'm healthy! My baby is healthy! I really really like Dr. Russell and his staff! I'm scared to death most days! My family is awesome! I'm nervous and anxious and excited and can't wait to buy baby clothes! <br /><br />I wouldn't change it for the world!!Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-15503554617409321152010-08-31T09:02:00.003-05:002010-08-31T09:40:37.194-05:00Attack of the.....Killer air???<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">crop dusting</span>: <span style="font-style:italic;">verb</span><br /> Passing gas in a stealth manor, usually while walking through a crowd or a group, so that someone else gets blamed for the stench, or at the very least people besides the assailent must suffer it.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;">The restaurant's so busy tonight that you can get away with crop dusting your own section</span><br /><br />Welcome to my life. It's like a week ago, I may have tooted a bit after eating. Compare that to this week, where I think I set a world record last night. <span style="font-style:italic;">"Human Holds More Air than Ever Thought Possible!"<span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span> the headlines will read.<br /><br />I'm not sure what happened. It's like I hit the third trimester (yay!!) and my gut blew up like a hot air balloon. <span style="font-style:italic;">Literally.</span><br /><br />I'm leaving a wind trail everywhere I go. The only thing I can be fortunate about is that it's just <span style="font-style:italic;">AIR</span>. No eye-watering can be blamed on me. Not yet anyway. Wait til I eat that spinach burrito in the freezer. I may just take off....look for windful flying object over your town...just may be me.<br /><br />This baby is growing and growing. At my last picture show, my kid was still shy, but the doc estimated it to weigh 2 pounds, which is one week ahead of it's expected weight. I'm not sure if I should take that as a sign that my due date will be different, or I'll just have a toddler to push out.<br /><br />My next appointment is next week - just for monitoring - and I'll schedule my next sonogram then. Hopefully, I'll know by September 17th. Kid1 is spending more time booty-up, so hopefully it overcomes it's shyness and shows me some naughty bits. <br /><br />The baby's room is nearly finished. Mike painted for like 100 hours to cover the grasshopper-key-lime-pie green that was there before and I have a nice, pretty, PLAIN creamy vanilla pudding. Yep, plain Jane, that's me. We're still waiting on the crib. It's scheduled to be delivered today, so I'm just keeping all of my fingers and toes crossed that it gets delivered and UPS was a bit more gentle with it this time. If not, Mimi and I are going to New Orleans this weekend and getting one, no matter what. Here's a shot, without the crib - pregnant style - which means crooked and blurry.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0FuLXtsBnNTJmEi0v_zxpIDOIwEQG-IgcPaJXR24JqC3Q69nD_n7_hBExixBuXIqaYwJVywWbHuBzrf8RENb1Hc2d0ZzmvFKje4ujsc0PF1W3wR04685BDWyAlwTlq44PbIlbLPNntbM2/s1600/2010-08-31_09-14-32_689.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0FuLXtsBnNTJmEi0v_zxpIDOIwEQG-IgcPaJXR24JqC3Q69nD_n7_hBExixBuXIqaYwJVywWbHuBzrf8RENb1Hc2d0ZzmvFKje4ujsc0PF1W3wR04685BDWyAlwTlq44PbIlbLPNntbM2/s320/2010-08-31_09-14-32_689.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511578390733858706" /></a><br /><br />We're getting carpet installed on the staircase today. Hopefully it will reduce some noise and prevent any foreheads from being split open in the next couple of years. Yep...that's right, Izzy is moving upstairs this week. She's done so well in her big girl bed that she'll be graduating to her big girl room. She's still unsure and asked Daddy to sleep in the bed with her. Luckily, she believed him when he said he wouldn't fit. It is the truth, after all. I think she will do great, as long as she stays encouraged. The upstairs bathroom is almost finished too, so we'll start bathing her up there too and it will be entirely her domain. I think she'll be satisfied with that. :) Little Diva. <br /><br />I just read on Facebook that some friends of mine - who are expecting their second child - just found out that they're having a little girl in a family that seems to only produce boys. Against all odds, they broke the chain and are having a girl. Well, congrats to you Brandon, Joan & Riley!! (even if I'm jealous that you found out already.) If I'm having a boy, and you're having a girl, we have some serious clothes-swapping to do. ;) I'm being totally serious.<br /><br />Well, I'm all witted out. Time to go lay on my side and relieve this airy feeling. <br /><br />Hasta la vista.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-66081498680025655212010-08-19T13:30:00.006-05:002010-08-19T14:13:36.890-05:00Ointment.Well, howdy stranger. <br />The baby (who is still sexless) has been getting bigger, and consequently, so have I. Lots of movement and I can tell if I'm being poked by a leg or an arm or a head. I can pick out its little body parts too. <br />The baby is getting fatter. My last ultrasound put shim at about a week ahead as far as size. So, maybe that will mean that I won't last until November. We'll see.<br />Isabella's big girl room is finished upstairs, minus her bed. She will move up there soon. We wanted to see how she would fare sleeping in the day bed. Well, it's been three nights in a row and she's sleeping through the night, even though she now has the ability to get out of bed if she wanted to. I'm not mentioning that fact to her. <br />Now that we know she will at least stay in the bed, we will move her upstairs into her new 3 YEAR OLD BIG SISTER ROOM!! Whooohooo! ;)<br />Daddy has been busy these past few weeks doing his own version of nesting....which mainly constitutes manual labor. But, he's gotten so much done, which eases my mind alot.<br />Last weekend alone, he painted Izzy's BIG GIRL room, moved her furniture upstairs and managed to throw in a little kitchen renovation. (That is the condensed list of what he actually accomplished.) I accomplished a brief trip to Lafayette in which I ate too much. Seriously.<br />Anyway...here's a couple shots of Izzy's room....so CUTE!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9xQZO5Sx-hPN7RSCY6I2eN398KCXmg6OjANSRGHQv6O4qjMGUUa7jjo_TMBd9gpepZ7RrxYYQMSPHrWW2OSyYK6Epm5pGOIbAxHb0kV2pl3SLI38k6FlZfCctng4er0KGOaMDuIv1ZZF/s1600/2010-08-15_11-06-33_579.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV9xQZO5Sx-hPN7RSCY6I2eN398KCXmg6OjANSRGHQv6O4qjMGUUa7jjo_TMBd9gpepZ7RrxYYQMSPHrWW2OSyYK6Epm5pGOIbAxHb0kV2pl3SLI38k6FlZfCctng4er0KGOaMDuIv1ZZF/s200/2010-08-15_11-06-33_579.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507194435079315490" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcjnrCafVKvwkhiudhDaeuSMji96EZqKfI5ftAt71HyVe9V2MsaUukngNgIBoJYhPMIFt6K-AgMcAS61M_5Ob4zC9VCg4g-WMmxr0YpY0Yl1DrUwM5Z3hr7TnEoZNyQAbMuo1hcUx6e0L/s1600/2010-08-15_11-01-23_945.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcjnrCafVKvwkhiudhDaeuSMji96EZqKfI5ftAt71HyVe9V2MsaUukngNgIBoJYhPMIFt6K-AgMcAS61M_5Ob4zC9VCg4g-WMmxr0YpY0Yl1DrUwM5Z3hr7TnEoZNyQAbMuo1hcUx6e0L/s200/2010-08-15_11-01-23_945.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507193811548970210" /></a><br /><br />And, just to show off, Mike also hung a backsplash behind the stove. For those of you who didn't know, we didn't have a back splash. It was just bare, unpainted wall. So, this made me very very happy. I love how it looks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqJTtiyWRDdFC7HQ_8wxwIOM-IWEO11x7s58LYCAm81_WR8us2mhcnYI9N7kA2ymxpeLJh6zTXDZCnZYMD2dzDDxiKctJWpxvK2aiqTjh6A0NzXyx5WXw1dmwziM9PC7IXBMURtTiZLUMa/s1600/2010-08-15_19-41-57_820.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 113px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqJTtiyWRDdFC7HQ_8wxwIOM-IWEO11x7s58LYCAm81_WR8us2mhcnYI9N7kA2ymxpeLJh6zTXDZCnZYMD2dzDDxiKctJWpxvK2aiqTjh6A0NzXyx5WXw1dmwziM9PC7IXBMURtTiZLUMa/s200/2010-08-15_19-41-57_820.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507192918840497746" /></a><br /><br /><br />We got some furniture in...or one piece of furniture in. The glider and the ottoman. That is cool. The crib got returned to the sender because the UPS delivery process destroyed it. So, this is what happens now. Literally. UPS destroys my crib. They return my crib to the sender. This is all happening without my knowledge. They change the date of delivery to Aug 20 as opposed to Aug 16. What they don't specify is that is the date of return to sender. So, today, the UPS tracking information tells me that the package has been delivered - in OHIO. I'm clueless. I seriously thought that Babies 'R Us was immediately sending me a new crib that would arrive on the 20th. Boy, was I wrong. I called BRU customer service - very nice and helpful, by the way - and asked what I was to do now. And, this is it. I have to wait until the refund posts to my credit card (7-10 business days) then re-order it from the website, and then wait the additional processing and shipping time for it to - hopefully - arrive in about 2.5 weeks in one piece. Seems that Babies 'R Us is making it really easy for UPS to destroy packages and making it very inconvenient to order from their online store for the customer. Anyway...I asked the nice man if he would expedite the process and he 'made some notes' on my account that will hopefully up the delivery date before my actual delivery date. <br />All I can do is cross my fingers. Hopefully UPS won't destroy the rest of my furniture scheduled to deliver this week.<br /><br />I was thinking yesterday, after I got out of the shower and took a look at the various oils, creams and ointments I have added to my daily ritual of beautification and comfort. When you first get pregnant and see an OB, they give you a welcome "care package" for pregnancy. My first doctor had a bunch of magazines. My second doctor had pens, magnets, cups, schedules, phone numbers, a bib and it all came in a tote! Sold me right away! Anyway, I was thinking this: when you get a care package from your OB, they should also give you a supply of all the additional ointments you will need during your pregnancy. I hate the word ointment. It sounds exactly like what it's used for: to put on your butt, your privates, and other various skin ailments. OINT-MENT. Blech.<br />So, this care package should contain a tube of Preparation H (if you have to ask, Google it), a tube of anti-itch anti-fungal cream (same), a sample pack of a variety of stretch mark creams and oils, peppermint foot lotion, and chap stick. I personally have developed contact dermatitis so I am adding Cortisone Cream too.<br /><br />Yes, that would be a very good idea. We should all suggest it to our OBs. Hopefully they won't laugh in our faces at the request.<br /><br />I'm hoping to get a video of my baby kicking because you can see it from the surface now, but each time I've tried so far, as soon as I turn on the camcorder, all movement ceases. I've never heard of a baby with stage fright. We'll see. Hopefully, I'll get that up soon. <br /><br />Oh, and I say this: BRING ON THE RAIN!! It makes my life easier because it decreases the outdoor temperature by 25 degrees. So, stop complaining about the rain and go dance in it or something. I personally am standing in it right now, drenching myself so I can go stand under an air conditioner vent. :)<br /><br />Wouldn't change it for the world!! I'm getting excited and can't wait to meet my little Shim! :)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMk91XXliXXqQfsV8-xArbGKF151DzeemjkZ3v4efWYx-jXl0FfrwaWe-3yA-224jhsIup-vteSxXc7m4BR7QGR17kOlEwhB-epfzj7BFBS2CbGQ5WSbx4mB1LxaFi8bVpmOxhyphenhyphen40P7u0O/s1600/27+weeks.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMk91XXliXXqQfsV8-xArbGKF151DzeemjkZ3v4efWYx-jXl0FfrwaWe-3yA-224jhsIup-vteSxXc7m4BR7QGR17kOlEwhB-epfzj7BFBS2CbGQ5WSbx4mB1LxaFi8bVpmOxhyphenhyphen40P7u0O/s200/27+weeks.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507200302601790866" /></a>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-81125364495669976752010-07-24T13:39:00.004-05:002010-07-24T14:26:43.968-05:00Time moves so fast....Today I am writing out of a place of frustration. It has been hard to not become frustrated at the feelings that arise out of the lack of control I have been feeling. <br /><br />It's easy to control the date the shower will be on. It's easy to control what I put on my registry, in my mouth or on my body. I can control whether my house is clean, the laundry is done and whether or not I answer the phone when you call. <br /><br />What I cannot control at the moment is how this baby is going to come into this world. Yeah, yeah...I know I won't be able to control it much when the time comes, either. But, I do have ideas on how I want it to be done. My husband is on board...now, we have to get everyone else on the wagon too. <br /><br />I'm reading several books right now. And they're all along the lines of the type of birth that I want to have. I have, for nearly a decade, been a natural birth advocate. Even when I wasn't anywhere near being married and pregnant, I have had an idea of how I want my delivery(ies) to go. I have observed a trend in childbirth that leans more toward monetary gain than natural process. The natural way has been set aside to make room for scheduled deliveries, induced births and a 25% increase in Cesarean deliveries since 1970. All of this is scary to me. Childbirth is now handled like a disease that needs to be treated rather than the wonderful miracle it truly is.<br /><br />There are numerous studies on the benefits of differing child birthing methods - and yet, our obstetricians rely on the same methods that were developed at the turn of the 20th century. While things have changed some for the better since 1890, there are things that haven't. I'm glad that my arms won't be strapped down to a bed, that I won't be given an enema before delivery, and I'm surly glad that I won't be unconscious. Other than those details, delivery hasn't changed much. Mothers are still confined to a bed, told that labor is a process that they will "suffer" through, encouraged to get long needles shoved into their spinal cords and generally made to fear the process and trust no one but the doctor.<br /><br />I disagree. While female mortality rates have declined since the advent of modern medicine, most of the deaths were prevented in modern times because of the discovery that bacterial infections killed people. Before the discovery of those tiny little critters and the medicine to treat them, women had a large chance of dying after birth from sepsis. Women are surviving child birth because of the scientific understanding of bacteria and the advocation of hand-washing and antibiotics, not because obstetrics has changed in leaps and bounds. Give credit where credit is due. Thank you, Alexander Fleming.<br /><br />So, my frustration arises when I find myself fighting at all angles to defend my choice. I'm fighting now to find a doctor that "gets it." I still don't know if he will. After this coming Tuesday, I may be making more phone calls and asking for more referrals to see someone else. We'll see. I'm fighting some of my family members so that they can get an understanding, and even without acceptance, support. In this area of the world, Professional Labor Assistants are few and far between. After nearly a half a day of research, I have found 3. Two of which may not serve me in my "area." So, I'm fighting to find professional labor support. I'm swimming upstream in a current of "no, you cant," "you're nuts," "whys," and general looks of disgust. Like I'm doing something that will harm me or my child by not allowing people to poke, prod and monitor me to death. <br /><br />Nearly everyone that I have voiced my choices to have the same response. And that is "Why?" All I have to say, is "Why not?"<br /><br />Luckily, Mike is 100% on board with me. And, not because I gave him no choice. He has always been a supportive, loving and caring partner through my entire pregnancy (and before.) I know if I told him to put on his swim suit, hop in a birthing tub with me, he'd do it - no questions asked. So, I'm putting this here, for everyone to see:<br /><blockquote>Thank you, Mike, for 'getting it' and allowing me to have my passions, understand them and accept them. For understanding that we go through this together, and that I need your support. Thank you for never doubting me, my ability to delivery this baby any way I set my mind to, and keeping me - and us - open to all other possibilities. I couldn't do it without you. I wouldn't even want to.</blockquote><br /><br />So, the journey continues. And, I know compromises may have to be made along the way. Just remember that because someone chooses to do something that you think is different - or just plain <span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;">crazy<span style="font-style:italic;"><span style="font-weight:bold;"></span></span></span></span>- doesn't give you the right to judge, denounce or disregard it. I have made up my mind, and need support. I need help. I need advice. You're not going to scare me or change my mind. If anything, I've only been made more determined by your doubt. Wish us well and send us love and in the words of everyone's wise old ______________ "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-67471112710270669082010-07-11T20:17:00.004-05:002010-07-11T21:12:08.663-05:00Brain freeze...Since my last post, I have been thinking. Alot.<br /><br />I laid awake just last night for nearly 2 hours thinking of all the things pregnant people think about. Birthing classes, my OB, birthing plans, crib mattresses, diapers, pacifiers, safety, car seats, seasons, and maternity leave.<br /><br />It really is amazing the length of an expectant couple's "To-do List." It's like that annoying song from our childhood, "The Song that Never Ends" from the Sheri and Lambchop show. "This is the song that never ends, it just goes on and on, my friend. Some people started singin it, not knowin what it was; and they'll keep on singin it forever, just because....this is the ......." You get my drift. It just keeps going and going and going.<br /><br />Once you think you've made some progress on the list, you have to add another 30 items.<br /><br />With all the normal stress an expectant couple has, I have just one little added stress. I say little, because I think it will be an easy fix, but it's a large item on my "things that are important" list.<br /><br />Tomorrow, I am calling my insurance company to make sure that changing my OB will not effect my current efforts toward paying off my share of the "delivery" bill. <br /><br />Yes, I said it: I am changing doctors. If you read my last post about the profound disappointment I experienced with my ultrasound, then you can understand at least the foundation for my decision. Though my mind is made up, my decision to change did not come lightly. I'm over halfway into my pregnancy. I have been receiving prenatal care from a competent Nurse Practitioner, whom I happen to like. The thing is, is that I don't like the woman who will ultimately deliver my baby.<br /><br />There are several things that immediately don't sit well with me. First of all, my initial visit to her was supposed to be for my annual pap-smear and check up. That's the only reason I chose her. As luck wuold have it, 3 days before that check up, I read a positive pregnancy test, so she just turned from my GYN to my OB. On that day, I waited a good hour to be called to the back, and when I was, she came in the room with another woman. There were no introductions. In fact, she barely spoke to me. She had a conversation with her nurse about traffic and how badly people drive in Louisiana. She went through the motions carelessly and callously. She didn't even give me a heads up before she put the speculum in. I would later learn, that she wouldn't give me a heads up before she put anything anywhere. <br /><br />I saw her again a couple of weeks later, for my first ultrasound. She was a bit friendlier then, but that was the whole "jock itch" visit, and my discomfort plus the excitement of seeing our little alien outweighed her "shining personality."<br /><br />That would be the last time I would see her for 14 weeks. So, nearly 3 months went by where I solely saw her Nurse Practitioner. I was ushered in and out, in and out and time goes by and I start to realize that the woman who is supposed to deliver my baby will be a stranger to me.<br /><br />Then, there are the financial matters. My doc's office has a "bookkeeper" who handles payments and insurance. On my first visit, she told me that by my second visit, she would have the breakdown of what I would owe toward the delivery charge. (Insurance companies only cover so much.) Again, she barely looked at me, and acted rather annoyed when I had a very basic question. She answered me curtly, furiously writing the entire time. I never got that financial breakdown. It's been 4 months.<br /><br />Then, there's the whole experience of the last ultrasound. And by last, I mean last. Any ultrasound from here on out will have to be paid for by me, and so far...this baby is going to cost me over $2000 out of pocket. It's very sad.<br /><br />On a brighter note, I have a recommendation for another doctor that sounds like a dream compared to my current one. From all the happy faces I see when I mention his name, he seems to truly enjoy his job. He has a passion for delivering babies. And, he enjoys troubleshooting and answering questions. He doesn't have a nurse practitioner and does all visits himself. That may mean that I may wait a little longer to see him sometimes, but...for peace of mind, it's worth it.<br /><br />I know that the way I see things happening in my head may or may not turn out to come true on the day of. I know that my fear of epidurals may just disappear after the first pang of labor. I know that my doctor may be out of town on the date of delivery and some strange person will walk trough the doors to do the honors. But, before that happens, I want a doctor that I can trust, that will trust me, and not treat me like a child, or like someone who doesn't understand what is happening. I am an adult. A bit of a paranoid adult, so I'm reading and asking and inquiring and finding out so many things. I'm not leaving much up to chance. I like it that way.<br /><br />It's funny, how when you grow up, you begin turning in to your parents. And, I don't mean that I'm turning in to my mother (which I am, by the way) but, I'm making decisions diffferently. Decisions that as a child and young adult seem like far away things. Taking many things into consideration before I make up my mind.<br /><br />One of those things is my decision to cloth diaper. I was a cloth diapered baby. Things have come a long way since the days of diaper pins and plastic pants. I made my decision based on two things: cost and waste. Those two things work hand-in-hand. Mike and I figured it out, and just the fact that we would be saving so much money was a motivator, and we would be cutting our waste. AND, THEY ARE JUST TOO CUTE!!!<br /><br />The other thing I have decided, which may seem like a no-brainer to some is to breast feed. I truly believe it is the best food source for the baby. And, I don't care what it's gonna do to my boobs after all is said and done. All the naysayers and their selfish proclamations about saggy tits can sit on a fat one. Hahaha...sorry Mema. Anyway, I'm gonna be "that mom" at the mall. hahahahhahahhahaha!!!<br /><br />The last couple of days I've been working on my registry(ies) and it's been a tiresome but fun project. It's amazing how much, and how little you can put on those things. <br /><br />Sigh. So, I think I will try to get some work done now and ignore the pull of my Target registry. Its....oh..............so.....hard.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-73184583149766852072010-06-24T20:51:00.006-05:002010-06-24T22:06:29.873-05:00And, we live in anticipation....Today was the big day. The day in which we find out if we're having a girl or a boy.<br /><br />It's been a tough wait. And, the wait continues.<br /><br />Mike and I ate lunch before our appointment, with plenty of caffeinated beverages to make sure our wiggle butt would wiggle it's little butt.<br /><br />You see, I've figured out a bit of a pattern with our baby's movement. The sleep/wake patterns that its forming in there.<br /><br />In the morning, it's Sweatin with the Oldies. In the afternoon, it's Riverdance on the bladder. And, in the evening its Zumba before bed. My baby is really into aerobic health. Not to mention training its little neurons and muscles how to work. Which means lots of spastic kicks and elbows. I think it must look a bit like I do when I dance: completely spastic!<br /><br />Well, we went into the appointment with high hopes. And, what do you know, even though I guzzled some caffeine, our little dear slept through the whole appointment.<br /><br />Not only did it sleep, it slept with a foot over its privates. A perfectly formed foot, according to Mike and my doctor, since I didn't get to see. The entire ultrasound was done with me staring at the back of the monitor.<br /><br />I felt like I was in a Nazi work camp, a nameless vessel used to hold some genetically engineered super baby. Both of them, ooohing and aaahing over a perfect baby, neither one looking beyond the glow of the screen. I felt just a little left out.<br /><br />I mean, I'm just this kids MOM!<br /><br />So, there was a flash of privates, and my doctor thinks she saw the tell-tale folds of a girl's nunee and not the single protrusion of a boy's bird. So, as of right now, we'll say it's a girl, maybe.<br /><br />Maybe.<br /><br />Hopefully, I can find something out soon. And, maybe I'll actually get to see this little life I'm carrying. <br /><br />Other than the disappointment of being completely left out of the best movie EVER, there is some good news. The baby is perfect. She(?) is developing well, growing just like she(?) should be. I am also doing well, weight steady, blood pressure perfect and no protein in my pee. Woohoo!!!<br /><br />I also had two other revelations today. One: I can see the bottom of my bellybutton for the first time ever in my life. And two: just like "they" said, my pee smells like what I eat. Today? Roast beef poboy. And that is the truth.<br /><br />Next appointment in 4 weeks. Here's the pictures that I got on the CD...and no, none of my baby's perfect foot.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLuC1TFIhDbUAcfBRibbXWq4-wczh5CquQPtg8eB7TlvVs4Qc0igmYC7tohUO-Z6APx37tmWOWDQ6rwBVkCptuzZNmg8RLzJ7Og1V7YW517GRXOTDmRwf0z2u9ZhyvWlh2iKXfal_16v6/s1600/Pic+1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiLuC1TFIhDbUAcfBRibbXWq4-wczh5CquQPtg8eB7TlvVs4Qc0igmYC7tohUO-Z6APx37tmWOWDQ6rwBVkCptuzZNmg8RLzJ7Og1V7YW517GRXOTDmRwf0z2u9ZhyvWlh2iKXfal_16v6/s320/Pic+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486541069838204690" /></a><br />Her(?) head.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2zQrYaUBCCE7hyIWYxLO64ozVIUgeNVDtgStkIMNVOEPkSA7Sokb10OnAxjaHKI4VsgqZ1BDM_xcilHevbLk2L6H9cjzigrxbDHHC8aDs6LLMF8IJW9Oku4Y1QmmE9gPk4PCSBQ3fdje/s1600/Pic+2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia2zQrYaUBCCE7hyIWYxLO64ozVIUgeNVDtgStkIMNVOEPkSA7Sokb10OnAxjaHKI4VsgqZ1BDM_xcilHevbLk2L6H9cjzigrxbDHHC8aDs6LLMF8IJW9Oku4Y1QmmE9gPk4PCSBQ3fdje/s320/Pic+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486541704370893490" /></a><br />Her(?) femur.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4BR5twWAJfsKjmcaBedEQK2s3UWACMfVbk1qEyrzdIlJaW6rkRsZHQT15nbvV_B-3OPiPUHu2FCsg1DZfZ4jU0QzwJ96YW0dye2g6m-YXWC-zrJDGhJRHbJ0CNv-dIS3mWQWQ9V_Uw1s7/s1600/Pic+3.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4BR5twWAJfsKjmcaBedEQK2s3UWACMfVbk1qEyrzdIlJaW6rkRsZHQT15nbvV_B-3OPiPUHu2FCsg1DZfZ4jU0QzwJ96YW0dye2g6m-YXWC-zrJDGhJRHbJ0CNv-dIS3mWQWQ9V_Uw1s7/s320/Pic+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486541878909045090" /></a><br />Her(?) whole spaceghost body.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiliiC3LsDgSY4rgP9KevAZZE63wvEkYbZdzw0DD8LFLTuepaErcse0WBkbzDVLlL8J9Cv14IMviBpcLEwtUF7MrfBWisQ3Igr5H6MeuFykmiDGzxZ_l4cv9hfJI44QkNg9AeprjeIn-7Hq/s1600/Pic+4.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiliiC3LsDgSY4rgP9KevAZZE63wvEkYbZdzw0DD8LFLTuepaErcse0WBkbzDVLlL8J9Cv14IMviBpcLEwtUF7MrfBWisQ3Igr5H6MeuFykmiDGzxZ_l4cv9hfJI44QkNg9AeprjeIn-7Hq/s320/Pic+4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486542137958561122" /></a><br />Another body shot, minus the money shot.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-45828183540670797792010-06-14T21:35:00.002-05:002010-06-14T22:18:15.186-05:00My kid likes Oreos...After all the cricket chirps I heard following my last post, I figured I'd write something funny and upbeat.<br /><br />I'm not lying. Here it is:<br /><br />Three weeks ago, I had my regularly scheduled, monthly prenatal checkup. I was running late, so I came huffing and puffing into the office, with my blood pressure ringing in my ears. In case you are just tuning in, when you get pregnant, your circulatory system increases to assist your heart and placenta in nourishing your baby. When that happens, your body begins working harder to do things that non-pregnant people take for granted, like walking. And breathing.<br /><br />Well, my NP was concerned because my blood pressure was a little high - oh, really??!! - and asked me to come back in two weeks, to check up and make sure my BP was all ok.<br /><br />I came back in two weeks, and was early enough to sit and rest after my grueling walk from the parking tower before the nurse took my BP. Well, just like I suspected, my BP was fine. Actually, she was very proud of me because my BP was so good and I was maintaining weight.<br /><br />I have been working really hard to monitor my sodium and drink lots of water. In doing so, I have actually lost a bit of weight. Water weight, but still ok. Remember how they call salt the "silent killer?" It's in EVERYTHING. You literally cannot cut out sodium from your diet. In fact, you do need a little to survive. Anyway, I don't want to end up with cankles. <br /><br />At this last visit, I got to schedule my 20 week ultrasound. What's so special about this? Well, we get to find out if we're having a boy, or a girl!! I'm not one for surprises. I completely want to know! Mainly so I can start getting presents and plan my baby shower. Ha!<br /><br />Mike and I have been kicking around some names. We have actually been agreeing on most of them, with the exception of Enis. Let's do a little word association: what's the first word that comes to your mind when you say Enis? Yeah, that one was a no. Anyway, the name is something I'm keeping a secret from everyone until it comes out! Sorry, Charlie....<br /><br />With all this talk of boys, girls and everything in between, Izzy has begun to get a little curious. She's always been my potty buddy, following me to the bathroom while I teetee. Nothing like an audience. Anyway, being that we're both girls, I don't have a problem with it. Well, recently, she's been wanting to follow Daddy into the bathroom. <br /><br />It's not like its <span style="font-style:italic;">wrong</span>, per se, but Mike and I both agree that she's at the age now where she shouldn't be in the bathroom while Daddy showers or potties. This doesn't settle so well with her. She's very persistent and to palliate her a bit, I told her that Daddy is a boy and you can't watch him potty. That didn't satisfy her even a little bit. She finally broke me down with all her WHYS, and I told her that girls have nunees and boys have wieners. Well, wouldn't you know that this is her NEW FAVORITE SAYING!<br /><br /><blockquote><br />"I can't watch Daddy potty because boys have wieeeenerrrs."<br /><br />"Boys shower by themselves because girls have nuuuuneeees."<br /><br />"Katie, you have a big nunee, and I have a small nunee."</blockquote><br /><br /><br />Yeah, thanks for bringing that up, Captain Obvious.<br /><br />I've created a monster. Luckily she doesn't want to actually know what a wiener is. Yet. I'm giving her a week.<br /><br />Another big thing happening this week, besides informing my three year old about wieners, is that I'm beginning to feel the baby move! It started out as little flicks and blips. It didn't happen very often, and very often, I convinced myself that it was all in my head. Then, last week, I was laying on the couch with one of my legs kind of hanging off and was shaking my leg. Every time I would stop, I'd feel this Saturday Night Fever happening in my belly! It went from flicks, to feeling its little limbs swirling around! <br /><br />My little baby is getting strong enough to let me know its there. It's a pretty amazing feeling. I can only describe it was fluttery bubbles, just like the books tell you.<br /><br />And, to reference the name of the blog - and make a confession - yesterday, I almost single-handedly finished a carton of Oreos. Well, I only did it because when I would eat a cookie, my baby would boogie! (Just believe it, ok?!) It was pretty cool. <br /><br />I am so looking forward to next Thursday. I get another picture of my child, and hopefully get to see a little penga or nunee down there!!<br /><br />There's still another 9 days to vote on what you think I'm having, so scroll to the poll on the side-bar and indulge me in a vote!!<br /><br />Hallelujah, I'm almost halfway to the finish line!Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-73873170176231768612010-06-07T23:16:00.002-05:002010-06-07T23:54:38.334-05:00Decisions....Choosy moms have more to choose than Jiff. Choosy moms have oh so many decisions to make.<br /><br />It starts in the beginning, when you first find out you're pregnant. You choose to keep the pregnancy or not. You choose to quit smoking, drinking alcohol, drinking coffee, taking drugs (and not just the recreational kind), many, many, many - too many - types of foods, and other risky-type behaviors. By the way, hot baths are included in that "risky-type" category.<br /><br />You have to choose a doctor if you haven't had one previously. You have to start thinking about choosing names and choosing nursery furniture. Birth plans and hospitals. Pain meds during delivery, or not. Not to mention you have to choose which college this tyke will attend.<br /><br />You never know how many choices you have until you're faced with the mountain of literature you dig through when you're pregnant.<br /><br />Up until you find out the gender of your baby - I'm still in the dark - you can only speculate about certain decisions.<br /><br />A girl is much easier than a boy. You have to decide her name and which outfit to bring her home from the hospital in. To pink, or not to pink? Easy peasy!!<br /><br />A boy is different. You still have to decide his name, and the take-out clothes. You even have to decide if you will keep the blue or make him hip and gray. But, there's a really big decision that you should make while the little guy is still little and his little mind will never remember that little piece of skin that doctor chopped off him.<br /><br />If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm speaking of circumcision. Long before I was even close to getting married, much less about to have a baby, I decided I was fundamentally against genital mutilation of any kind. I did research on the subject. I wanted to make an informed decision for my hypothetical son. Did you know that waaaay back in the 60s & 70s, studies were done ruling that circumcision was never a medically necessary procedure? In fact, circumcision began in the US as a way to curb sexual desires back in Puritan times. It's true. At some time in the late 19th century, doctors began telling very ignorant parents that it was medically necessary to keep it healthy and clean. Since those studies, it's only been done for cosmetic purposes. Well, I look at it like this....for almost 40 years, millions of American boys (this is primarily an American affliction) have had parts of their very sensitive anatomy removed for no reason other than habit. I mean, 75% of the world's population leave their boys intact, and that includes other developed countries.<br /><br />I have heard the arguments FOR circumcision and my heart is still against it. I understand that if a boy in the US is uncircumcised, he will be different than most of his peers. What I want to know is why has this been made to be such a taboo? People get uncomfortable when you bring it up. People are very passionate about their sons' foreskins.<br /><br />I want to start a revolution! One of acceptance! Let go of the old thought patterns! Who cares if one kid has an anteater and the other doesn't?! NOT ME!!<br /><br />Ah, the things you ponder when you bring another human into the world.<br /><br /><br />It's been a Monday. A very pregnant Monday. It all began when I woke up with intestinal discomfort. Nothing I can't handle. After my shower, I began looking for an undershirt. I looked in the clean clothes that were just folded. I looked in the closet. I looked in the newly-folded clothes again. I threw clothes around the closet and cursed the laundry being done! I hated that I couldn't find it. I hated that Mike didn't answer his phone when I called to whine about how I couldn't find it. I looked in the folded clothes again, and - GASP - there was my undershirt. I put my clothes on and Mike returned my call. So, I cried about it.<br /><br />Later, the computer and projector at work began giving me problems. I cried about that too, but announced it to my class. So, they laughed while I cried and laughed.<br /><br />At lunch, I felt backwards. I turned the bathroom light on when I left the room. The afternoon was long. Luckily my night class was laid back. But, I'm tired.<br /><br />It's been a long day, and I'm ready for bed. I'll probably dream of robot computers and floating foreskin, but goodnight.Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-60563118989264485032010-06-03T14:47:00.002-05:002010-06-03T14:47:45.468-05:00The blob....Lesson of the day: stretchy pants. Buy them in bulk. Trust me, because beginning earlier than all those supermodels on TV tell you, you will need them.<br /><br />I know I'm not "fat," but before my pregnancy, I had put on a few extra pounds being all in love and everything. I read my baby books. I read magazines. I Googled. I knew what to be prepared for. I thought.<br /><br />When my size 12 jeans got too tight, I bought a size 14. I hate even thinking that out loud. Problem with that, was that I could only button them for about a week, then they became too tight, and by tight, I mean the waist was tight, while the butt and legs looked like I had worn them, jumped in a river and worn them til they dried. In my younger days I called it "poo-butt." That's when you wear jeans that sag in the back like you just, you know....messed in them. Most men continue to have this jean affliction.<br /><br />Luckily, another instructor at work had just given me some of her old maternity clothing. I sorted through and picked out one or two items that were appropriate for the fiery furnace of S. Louisiana in the summer. One item was a pair of maternity panel pants.<br /><br />The panel. Sigh. I never looked forward to wearing maternity clothes. When I was 17, and I used to dream of having a child, I imagined myself as that pregnant girl (who only had one child, a boy and not til she was 30) who never wore maternity clothes. I would see these women walking around in the maternity tents and burkas and wondered why they felt the need to cover up so much. I know now the reasons behind it....and I will get to that later.<br /><br />Ok, so, the panel. I shop online. I like to shop online. They have a bigger selection and you don't have to actually GO to the stores and sift through the mess that those inconsiderate, ignorant, filthy people leave behind. I will not try on something that I can visibly tell another person has put on their bodies. Brown marks and deodorant stains are the common tells. Really, I would rather buy it online, wait the 7-10 days and just try it on - for the first time - in the privacy of my own home, with my own flattering lighting.<br /><br />And now, with these "changes" happening to my body, the last thing I want to do is try on maternity clothes that some other sweaty, leaking mother put on her sweaty, leaking body before me. <br /><br />Oh yeah, the panel. The first time I tried on a pair of panel pants, I actually was quite comfortable. The panel kept my pants up so that the back never went that poo-butt route. I didn't have to worry about waist bands cutting into my flesh when I sat down and I have the perfect excuse for not having to continuously suck in my tummy anymore. Frankly, I was in love.<br /><br />I could buy stores out of their panel pants, for the rest of my life! I was so impressed with how flattering they were and how versatile. Did you know there are THREE different types of panels? I didn't either!!<br /><br />Its an amazing adventure shopping for maternity clothes. You kind of feel like an adrenaline junkie, shopping for the next parachute you will use to jump out of that plane. You know why? Because that's what most of the maternity shirts out there look like. Tshirt shaped parachutes. I could save your life if you and I got into a plane crash tomorrow.<br /><br />Along with clothes fitting a bit differently, other odd behaviors start to happen. Mainly from other people. As soon as you get a bit of a belly, people that you may have preferred never to touch you - ever - begin to Buddha rub your belly. I didn't like it before I got knocked up, and I certainly don't like it now. Keep your hands off of my stomach! They also enjoy letting you know how BIG you're getting. "Wow, you sure are BIG for only 4 months!" <br /><br />What they don't know, is that it's gas. Terrible, painful gas and indigestion. I had indigestion so badly that my stomach would swell to skin-stretching proportions. My skin over my stomach was sensitive to touch. I was so uncomfortable. And, as a pregnant woman, you can't just take the drugs you would normally take when you're not pregnant, so I was forced to wait for a return phone call from my OB's nurse. Do the math, I waited ALL DAY. Luckily, at this stage in my pregnancy, Prilosec is ok. So, along with my vitamin, I take a Prilosec every morning. And, now I look like a regular 4 month pregnancy and not like I'm smuggling a little person under my parachute shirt.<br /><br />The parachute shirts aren't flattering. They make your hips look huge and the rest of you is kind of shapeless under there, but I think I've figured a decent reason for the extra roominess, and it has nothing to do with the size of your belly. <br /><br />If you've ever been to S. Louisiana in the summer, you know how hot it is. It's just June and already, with humidity and the heat index it's getting closer and closer to 100 degrees. As a pregnant woman, it takes a lot of effort just to get off the couch. Imagine adding thick, hot air you can wade through to that, and you've got huffing and puffing. And sweat. Hormones, extra weight and a gradually increasing circulatory system, with a gradually lessening thoracic cavity....it's an ugly combination that makes 90 degrees feel like the fires of Hell and your toes and fingers swell like little sausages. And raises your blood pressure. And ruins your hair. Yadda, yadda, yadda.<br /><br />So, yes, I've figured it out, and will accept my parachute shirts a little bit more. Our burka shaped maternity clothes are to allow for air circulation! That's the only way we could make it. In the words of my Nurse Practitioner, Andre', "Girl, stay in the air conditioning. They made it for pregnant women."Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-6762007444725925312010-05-24T09:34:00.000-05:002010-05-24T10:27:50.316-05:00Soup, and other culinary delights...Around week 6, I started on Progesterone, a medication usually designed to increase the fertility in women who have difficulty getting pregnant. It is also used to increase the hormone responsible for maintaining pregnancies in women who are currently pregnant.<br /><br />By adding this medication to my body, I began to "feel" pregnant. And, no - not in a starry-eyed, mushy, glowing new mom kind of way. But, a everything-looks-like-it-was-previously-digested kind of way. I may have mentioned this, but Progesterone is made by the devil. <br /><br />It all started with soup. Pre-progesterone, I loved soup. I loved vegetable soup. Corn soup. Baked potato soup. Gumbo. Minestrone. Lentil. Just soup. Soup is a perfect compliment to many other sides. Soup is a great quick meal. Soup can be frozen for extended periods of time and then be reheated - only to taste better than it did before!<br /><br />Post-progesterone, soup and I...well, we just didn't get along. I definitely could NOT look at it. At times, I couldn't even think of it. Soup and I, we still haven't fully recovered.<br /><br />So, I stay away from soup. Just in case.<br /><br />Morning sickness is a myth. It doesn't just happen in the morning. In fact, it happens mid-morning, after lunch, early afternoon and in the evening. They should just call it pregnancy induced nausea and vomiting. I guess that's too long for most doctors to have to say.<br /><br />I don't remember the beginning of the morning sickness. I do remember all the little tips and tricks I read and heard from other pregnant women, or women who had been pregnant. Boy, do I love all those little tips and tricks.<br /><br />First, there's the "eat crackers before getting out of bed in the morning" tip. I tried that. After my attempt, I know that throwing a few half chewed crumbs into my empty stomach did NOT work. In fact, I was one of those women that didn't feel too badly getting out of bed in the morning. In fact, I usually felt worse after I ate. (Cracker crumbs not included.)<br /><br />My worst nausea happened after 2 things, drinking liquid and any time after 4 pm. One afternoon, I was hungry, but couldn't imagine eating anything at all, so I went to Smoothie King and picked up a fruity smoothie. I got home and drank about 1/4 of it. Immediately, my stomach felt like it was rocking back and forth in the Gulf Stream. Well, I didn't get my money's worth out of my Smoothie that day. *wink* Lesson learned.<br /><br />My morning sickness was random, as I'm sure much pregnancy induced nausea and vomiting is. Some days, I would be fine. Other days, things would set me off and there was no going back.<br /><br />I work in a large building. We have approximately 300 ladies, and I use that term loosely, that all share a 4-stalled bathroom. I averaged it out, and if every lady uses the restroom 1 time a day, then each stall is used 75 times DAILY. And, that's only if we teetee once. So, I'm sure each stall is used a gross amount of times each day. We have a maintenance man employed at the school. He actually does an amazing job at keeping our bathroom clean. BUT, when our school was being planned, someone decided to put the break room next to the bathrooms. So, beginning at around 11:30am and lasting about 2 hours, the bathroom gets inundated with lunch-time smells. <br /><br />I can handle bathroom smells. And, I can handle lunch-time smells. I cannot handle them combined. I have not been nauseous in about 2 weeks, and even just thinking of this combo makes my stomach turn. <br /><br />And, to make matters worse. My sense of smell has improved exponentially. I had a very good sense of smell before pregnancy. Now, I can smell a combination of things and determine what forms the combination. One of my students is still laughing about the time I walked in to a room and said "oh, fish and red beans" and a student had just wrapped up their lunch of fried shrimp and red beans and rice. It's like a super-power that I just don't want!<br /><br />Mike, Izzy and I were hanging out one evening, when Mike remembered he had to pick up a prescription or something from the CVS very close to our house. This was about a month ago, and Izzy was still in the final stages of potty training. Final stages meaning, poop anxiety. Her and I were upstairs, using the computer, when she doubled over and said her tummy hurt. Immediately following that statement, she started craw fishing back into the hall. I knew what was happening!! I scooped her up, and ran downstairs, praying to the potty gods that she would hold her little turtle in!<br /><br />I wasn't so lucky. I managed to get her pants off, and felt the little lump in her panties. She has anxiety about pooping in the potty. I imagine she thinks she'll get sucked down there or something. Well, anxiety or not, she still really hated to use it in her Big Girl panties too. So, she's crying, and my eyes are watering, for two very different reasons. My poop intolerance hasn't gotten any better in the 2 years her and I have known each other. Mike is still gone, and I am determined to help a baby girl out, so I go for the panties. As I'm trying to take them off, I get a whiff of the surprise inside and immediately lose my lunch. Thank goodness I was near a toilet!<br /><br />If you've had pregnancy induced nausea and vomiting, then you know that it ain't over til it's over. <br /><br />At the start of my vomiting, Izzy's crying stopped and she came close to me and started patting my shoulder, asking "Katie, are you ok?" So, here I am, trying to console her, one arm around her waist and one arm bracing myself. At that moment, I heard the door open. Angels sung. I managed a "MIKE, I NEED HELP!" He came rushing in to the fiasco that had unraveled in the 5 minutes he was gone. What a mess! But, a funny mess, if you can picture it. <br /><br />One more puke story to really get you gals itching for a baby....<br /><br />Mike, Izzy and I went to eat at a local sushi restaurant very close to our house. We ate our food, drove home and walked to the park on our street. We played and tried to teach Izzy how to roll down the hill. Well, Mike did that - no rolling for this woman! It began to get dark, so we went home. I went into the bathroom with Izzy and got her ready to take a bath. Mike came in right as I was about to put Iz in the water, and something about the combination of his smells at that moment immediately made me sick. I ran out of the bathroom (???????). Then, ran straight back into it, instructing Mike to get out. So, here we go again, except now I have a naked Izzy watching. As soon as she understands what is happening, she runs to the door. Mike's on the other side, but he's too afraid to open the door. So, I'm in there, losing my dinner, and in between, I'm letting Izzy out, stopping the bath water and getting the wash cloth and towel. Talk about multi-tasking. Luckily, I've never known a toddler that minded being naked in unusual places for any reason at all. So, when I was done, Izzy marched her naked butt right back in and got in the tub. Mike didn't join us.<br /><br />Needless to say, Mike felt GREAT about being the source of my little problem. But, you know when you've been sitting in the grass, and while you're there, you don't smell the grass, but after, the sour grass smell mixes with what ever laundry detergent, deodorant or work smells you have on your clothes? Anyway, I've never been a fan of the smell of grass. Now, it has a whole different quality.<br /><br />As of today, the pregnancy induced nausea and vomiting are gone and Izzy is completely potty-trained as of that last day she and I had our little bonding moment in the bathroom. I'm not sure if it scared her, or she just had sympathy for her pregnant step-mom, but it worked!<br /><br /><br />Oh yeah, I wouldn't change it for the world!Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4612376642852284539.post-46981753270607117402010-05-21T15:16:00.001-05:002010-05-21T15:18:15.139-05:00Things that make you go hmmm....My baby's daddy?<br /><a href="http://s10.photobucket.com/albums/a114/katescrash/?action=view¤t=Martian-Popping-Thing-Squeeze_BE421.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a114/katescrash/Martian-Popping-Thing-Squeeze_BE421.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br /><br />A compelling argument, once you see this...<br /><a href="http://s10.photobucket.com/albums/a114/katescrash/May%202010/?action=view¤t=DroidPhotosMay2010158.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a114/katescrash/May%202010/DroidPhotosMay2010158.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01604379224519785649noreply@blogger.com1