It's All Hormones, Right?

Just when I think

that I am not postpartum anymore,

I cry at the 4th Grade Cross-Country meet.

(And am glad that I am wearing sunglasses.)

Why Did I Buy Size 16 Jeans?

Was it so that when they fall off thirty times a day I can feel like I'm losing weight?

Was it because I had four kids with me at Wal-Mart while I was trying them on?

Was it because I was so desperate to wear non-maternity clothes that I settled for anything without a knit panel?

Was it because the 14's were too tight and they stupidly don't make 15's? Ding ding ding. Right answer.

Why don't they make 15's?

And why do the waist of jeans only go halfway to the waist?

"Was There Ever a Time...?"

"Was there ever a time when you wished you weren't doing it (giving birth) at home?"

"No, but there was a long time when I wished I weren't doing it period."

Can't We Stop Time? (Part II)

I didn't want him to come out...

I knew he'd have a ridge on his head and squished ears. He might have furry cheeks and shoulders. He probably wouldn't open his eyes, he would squeak like a mouse, and he would smell like heaven.


And then he wouldn't have an umbilical cord anymore, not even the little purple dead part.

And he would begin to open his eyes and have tears and sound like a baby, not a mouse.

The ridge would go away and the ears would start to straighten out.

The furry, delicious skin would start to be regular human skin.

And soon he won't smell like heaven anymore either.

Oh, stop, stop, stop!

I didn't want him to come out because I've done this before. I knew what was coming.

Let the mourning begin.

Answer #5--Something Is Better Than Nothing (Part II)

And Answer #7--Act To Do Good Quickly

Naomi's friend's mother had a baby a few months ago. I wanted to take her a meal. I wanted to take her kids for a playdate. I waited for the right moment. I wished I had the right food to cook. I didn't have her phone number. I tried to find the day that would work best. And in the end I did nothing. Stink!

I had a baby last week. A friend brought us cheesecake, Frutopia juice, blueberries, a box of individually wrapped snacks and a container of cream cheese. What a strange combination of food. What a gift it was to eat those blueberries by the handful at 5:30 in the morning, and give my kids the snacks when they were grumpy, and have cheesecake for lunch while everyone else was at church. The next day she called to invite all my kids over for a playdate. She said, in her experience, Day 3 was the worst. She remembered and acted before it was day 4 or 7 or 43.

I hope I've learned my lesson: A container of cream cheese is helpful. And act now while it is still Day 3.

Answer # 6--It's A Boy!

7 lbs 9 oz -- 20 inches

August 7, 2009 -- 2:26 am

What Should We Do Now While We Wait For The Baby To Come?

My water broke at 7 am. The kids left on a play date at 11 am. The Baby didn't show up until 2:30 am.

We had to do something between contractions, so we painted the nursery.

"Can I Use This Sour Cream Container for Painting?"

"No, I have to save that one for putting the placenta in."

"How Does The Baby Come Out?"

"Does your head come off?"

Does my head come off!?!

"Yeah, like, it pops off and the baby comes out and then they put it back on?"

What Do I Need For A Baby?

I was walking through Walmart and saw soothers (pacifiers) and realized that it hadn't really occurred to me to buy that or anything else in the baby section yet. So I bought them. Size 0-6 months and I felt happy at my conquest. (No thumb-sucker this time.)

The home birth supply list included receiving blankets. Oh yeah. So, I made a separate trip to the store and got those too.

Yesterday, Shawna said, "Well, have you gotten diapers?" Oh dear. I hadn't thought of that.

What else have I not thought of? I've done this three times, you'd think I'd have the hang of it.

So this morning I did what any responsible, well-prepared mother-to-be would do, I Googled "What do I need for a baby?" The list was 71 items long. I got overwhelmed and went to the store without the list. I bought newborn diapers, one bottle, one container of baby soap, and some baby finger-nail clippers.

I think I'm all set.

Am I?

Was That A Contraction?

Since Dallin left at 5 am this morning I have turned into a complete hypochondriac.

And it's worrying me that my hypochondria seems to be coming and going at 3 minute intervals for the last two hours.

Do You Have Any Electric Fans?

London Drugs: "Sorry, we're all sold out."

Do you have any fans?

Superstore: "Sold out."

Do you have any fans?

Walmart: "We sold out days ago."

What do I get for toughing out the heat wave longer than everyone else? No fans.

But, at Home Depot. Do you sell electric fans?

"They're right in front of the lumber till."

I think I'll kiss you. Either that or buy Home Depot stock.

Each child chose a fan. I got another one for the living room. Three sweaty, red-faced kids hugged their boxes of fans-to-be and grinned. The woman at the till said, "Look at their faces. They think it's Christmas."

Baby, Can You Come on August 9th at 2 PM?

Then Nana will be here.

Then Daddy will be back from his trip.

By then, surely I'll have found the receiving blankets, washed the onesies, acquired a bassinet, put a casserole in the freezer, and rested for an hour.

That would be a good time for me. Do you mind scheduling that with Heaven?

Please RSVP.

And in the mean time, if you could scoot down out of the way of my lungs at night that would be great.

See you soon.

Who Is My Midwife Going To Be?

Six months ago I was scrambling to find a midwife who would take me. I believe strongly in midwifery care. I think it is loving, practical, and time-tested. I was desperate to find a midwife who could squeeze me in.

I was on three wait lists. I waited.

Then I was off three wait lists and had the luxury of choosing whichever practice I wanted.

I met with them all, had awkward conversations where I had to say that I liked so-and-so better than you. And I chose one.

Now between moving practices, moving cities, and a severe thyroid problem, the midwives are trying to figure out what to do with me and all of their other August moms. The temporary midwife will be here until an undetermined date, don't worry they'll find someone from a neighbouring clinic to cover, they're sure it will all work out, and "all midwives are very nice. I'm sure it will be fine."

So much for emotional security and a long-term relationship that supports a woman in this most sacred and vulnerable of times.

Did I mention that my husband will be gone and unreachable for ten days (until two days before my due date)?

"Are You Sure This Was A Good Idea?"

(A woman at church)

"No. But I'm absolutely sure that it is too late to change my mind." (Me)

How Much Does An Air Conditioning System Cost?

Because I don't think I'm going to make it until August 10th.

Could It Get Any Worse?

Somehow I found myself as the volunteer parent in the swimming pool with my kids' classes this Monday. I thought it would be OK when I agreed to help. I thought Chas would have fun in the pool. I had forgotten that I am a hippopotamus. I had forgotten that my maternity swimming suit has a dumb skirt that looks ridiculous and floats up around my armpits in the pool. I forgot to shave my legs. I hadn't realized that I would need to help by herding children from one pool to the other, cheering them on in the change room, and other duties that require frequent pool exits. And I definitely didn't know that about a dozen other (skinny, make-up wearing, fully-clothed) mothers would hang around on the pool deck the entire time.

Could it get any worse?

Of course.

Today there was a fire drill at the pool. So the half-naked hippo with the dumb skirt had to stand with all the other mothers making chit-chat near the emergency exits while the life guards figured out whether we were about to be incinerated. I think I almost would have chosen flames.

Why Is It OK To Say That?

It has become obvious to strangers that I am expecting. This state of affairs seems to silently invite everyone's opinions.

Last night at the PAC (PTA) meeting a lady said to me, "Number Four!?! You'll figure out how to plan these things sooner or later."

The other day at the shoe repair shop, the old man on the cobbler's bench said, "Well, one of these day's you'll learn what's causing the problem and be able to stop it."

My kids' former piano teacher asked in a secretive voice, "Was this planned!?"

Why does the same etiquette not apply to pregnancy that applies to so many other things?

When was the last time someone said to you, "You know you really are fat. I'm sure you'll figure out what to do about it sooner or later." ?

Or, "Your kids are monsters, this parenting book will explain what to do to fix them." ?

Or, "Did you want your house to look this way!?" ?

It is all I can do to resist saying something very shocking to remind them how I arrived at this state in the first place. It would probably cause quite a silence.