27 weeks

Wow. We're only 12 weeks away. For some reason, that sounds a lot closer than 13, or any other number up until now. I know it's still pretty much 3 months, and that sounds like a long time from now, but 12 weeks... that sounds really close.

So I got my new compression hose in the mail last Wednesday, and I couldn't wait to try them on. I was right, they are not a sexy garment. When I was looking for maternity jeans I resisted buying anything that had a belly panel, and only looked at jeans that had elastic below the belly. But today I sit here with a full belly panel covering my belly, from my pantyhose. Lovely. However, I guess it does the job. My legs don't feel as tired, though once the hose is off I can see that there really is no improvement in the veins themselves. But I'll take the extra comfort of not feeling so much pain for now. Hopefully they'll also prevent the development of new veins.

As I mentioned last week, I'm getting back to the tired stage. Evan's middle of the night wake ups don't help, and he's been getting them more often lately.

I'm also at the stage when sleeping on my back is uncomfortable because I feel a little out of breath. However, sleeping on my side all the time is hard, I do wake up on my back often. I'm not waking up as often as I used to, but I am waking up earlier (around 5-6 am) and finding it very hard to go back to sleep. Of course, now that Evan is waking up earlier as well, it makes no difference because within 20 minutes of me waking up, he's awake. Perhaps it's a good thing I can't go back to sleep after all.

Another interesting thing of the last couple of days is that I haven't been that hungry. I've been skipping lunch because I'm not hungry at all. I'm sure that won't last long, though.

I know I haven't been doing comparisons between weeks this time around, basically because time is limited when I'm online on the computer. But today I decided to do a comparison with a twist. Here's me at 27 weeks when pregnant with Evan, and now with Bear:

I can see they look different, but I can't quite pin down different how. The belly is a little more out, and higher, maybe a little pointy, and perhaps a little smaller in the N-S axis? Did that make any sense at all? You can decide for yourself if they are different at all.

Not going as planned...

I really wanted to keep Evan’s two nap per day routine. Our pediatrician said it was definitely possible to keep up. Most kids will keep their two naps until they’re two if you keep them in the routine, he said. And he ought to know, he has five kids. So I was very optimistic.

Alas, shit has hit the fan. In a matter of days, Evan has gone from two 1-1.5 hour naps, to one 1 hour nap. Plus he’s waking up earlier. And he refuses to sleep even when he’s clearly tired, which leads to a crankier, more-easily-annoyed-by-all-the-things-he’s-not-allowed-to-do kid. It also means I only get a one hour break, which leads to a crankier mom. Honestly, I need to get him back on track or I’ll go crazy. It’s really only been 2-3 days of this one nap thing, but I can’t deal. It’s so exhausting to be here with him all day, unable to do anything house related because he needs to be watched. Sure, we can go out to story time, but it’s still watching him all day nonstop, and just when I’m starting to relax, he wakes up.

It doesn’t help that I’m starting to need a nap myself. So when am I supposed to do any cleaning, cooking, relaxing, blogging, whatever?

So I’m going to try to get him back on a double nap schedule, but I don’t know if it’ll work. I hope it does. I feel like I’m failing miserably in the current situation, and it really makes me wonder if and how I’ll ever survive 2 under 2.

When they turn one

I’m starting to believe there’s a switch that goes on as soon as a baby turns one. This joyous occasion marks the time when our babies are no longer referred as such, but instead they are called toddlers. Such big kiddos now! This switch, however, does more than change the term to refer to them; it literally turns them into toddlers, almost overnight.

It’s so funny to me how babyhood was sort of expected. Everybody knows how things happen: baby sleeps all day, wakes up to eat, and plays little. Then they are more attentive, but still sleep a lot. Then comes rolling over, sitting up, solids, creeping, crawling, all the stages until finally, around the first year of age, they walk, and probably say mama and dada, and mean it. So cute! Babies are supposed to be adorable, and they develop so quickly, so many milestones all cramped up in one year. And everyone knows that’s how it goes, these natural stages of development, everyone expects it and asks “is he crawling yet? Is he walking yet? Does he say any words?”

Toddlers, on the other hand, are supposed to be a handful. Curious and anxious to explore, they’re supposed to push your buttons and test every limit they encounter. Everyone has heard of the infamous “terrible twos”, that’s also expected. But I’ve never heard an expression for that stage between 1 and 2, something that defines this transition period between babyhood and the terrible twos. That’s because no one wants to burst your bubble, no one wants you to know there’s really little transition. All of the sudden they’re definitely not babies. They’re not full-fledged toddlers either, but it all starts so drastically that it throws you off your feet. In the space of a week so many things change, it’s unbelievable.

All of those things we’ve all heard about toddlers, the tantrums, the attitude, the testing of limits, it all starts as soon as they turn one. One day baby, next day toddler. Just like that, a good tantrum appears. Just like that, your kid is throwing himself on the floor dramatically while screaming when he doesn’t get his way (and where did he learn that!?!?). Suddenly, he doesn’t want that snack he liked so much, and it all ends up on the floor. Out of nowhere, all his patience is lost and he screams while you’re very obviously working on what he wants, like food and milk. Doesn’t matter you’re right there doing it, he wants it yesterday. Out of the blue, diaper changes are a battle where screaming and twisting are a must, and any toy intended to distract him ends up on the floor. All of the sudden, distraction and removal doesn’t work quite as well, as his memory has improved and will find his way back to the bookcase or the drawers he’s not supposed to play with time and time again. And he will throw a fit every time you try to distract and remove him, because he gets better at it every day.

I’m still in shock, mainly because I feel completely unprepared for this. The babyhood I knew all about is over; this is definitely uncharted territory, and I don’t have a map or a compass. I find myself trying to decide first and foremost which battles are worth fighting and to what extent. And I try to be consistent, but sometimes the constant nagging makes it hard. See? Completely unprepared. How am I going to survive toddlerhood with a baby, and toddlerhood times two? I have no idea, and to be honest at this point I don’t know if I will.

New tooth

Maybe that rough night was about Evan getting his 8th tooth. We’re not entirely positive, but we just discovered it, so it must be! So now he has 4 upper teeth, 4 lower teeth. Nice!

26 weeks

My legs have been really throbbing and bothering me, so I finally decided to get myself a compression pantyhose. Boy, those things sure look sexy! (not) We’ll see if they’re actually helpful.

The exhaustion that I had on the first trimester is making a comeback. I can’t really say I had a lot of energy in between those stages, more like barely enough that I could make it through the day, but now it’s winding down again. I think it’s a little too early for that, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

At the same time, we’re going to bed later, so I sleep a little less at night. Maybe that has something to do with it.

Other than that, still growing, Bear is still kicking up a storm, and things are well.

Sunday: 25 weeks (and 1 day)

I decided to make this week’s post about Sunday for two reasons. First, we moved into our new house this weekend. Yay! We love it, but it was a busy couple of days trying to unpack as much as possible with Evan around.

But today is also the day I got to go to our old rental house and clean it up. Maybe you think my husband should have done this instead of my 25 week pregnant self, but I’m sure y’all understand he does not comprehend the level of cleanness required to avoid cleaning fees. It only took 4 hours, so it wasn’t too bad. I felt fine during the whole ordeal; I was obviously tired but not as much as I expected to be. I expected not being able to walk once I settled down (hips get really sore at times), but I was fine, if only a bit sore.

But then I came home and looked at myself in the mirror. Today is the first day I actually felt like a big pregnant lady. My belly is definitely there, and it’s big. I guess pregnancy amnesia has kicked in, because I don’t remember feeling or looking so big at this point last time. My dear husband respectfully disagrees and says I looked just as big, but I just don’t remember it.

Anyways, I’m big and pregnant, and this is just getting started, really. We’ll see how big I get in the end.

A dream come true

Long ago, when we were still pregnant with Evan and we were daydreaming of life with a child, Josh shared a dream of his with me. He looked forward to those nights when our child would join us in bed during a rough night. You know, those nights when they’re sick or had a bad dream, and they come to your bedroom door looking for reassurance or you bring them in so they feel safer. You open the blankets to welcome them in, and everyone sleeps soundly, everyone feeling loved and secure.

At that point, I opposed. I said there’s no way that’ll happen; I don’t want our kids to be coming to our bed 5 nights a week because it’s so easy to do. If they are sick or have a bad dream, I will stay with them until they go back to sleep, then return to our bed. Josh didn’t care about my protests, he insisted one day it would happen, and I would love it so, it would happen again.

The day came, or better said, the night. It was last night. Evan has only had one rough night before, last month, but after a couple of hours of wanting nothing but mommy, he went back to sleep. Last night we were not so lucky. He went to bed at the normal time, but was awake by 9:30 pm. It took me almost 20 minutes to put him back to sleep, but he did. Sadly enough, he was awake by 10:20 pm. And so I stayed with him, lied on the floor with him, and waited for him to cuddle with me and go back to sleep. Well, he wanted to make sure I didn’t go anywhere, so he tried to sleep on me, literally. He laid his head on the side of my waist (I was laying on my left side) and wrapped his arms over so that he was kneeling next to me, using me as a big pillow. That was not comfortable at all, so I didn’t let it go on for long, and finally he lied next to me and fell asleep. I tried to move him into his crib a couple of times, but he woke up screaming every time, until finally I moved him and kept my hands on him for a while longer (a quite uncomfortable stretch to make with a pregnant belly, I may add) until I was able to slip through the door and go back to my bed. Success! It only took 1.5 hours.

But he was awake again by 1:20 am. I decided it was daddy’s turn to take over, so I woke him up and sent him on his way. Evan would not calm down for him, so finally they both came through the door. I was half asleep, but I knew what was happening and I opened the blankets to receive my poor baby, who just wanted his mama. Mom was too tired to go sleep on the floor, so I gave, and decided it was time to give this sleeping together a try and hope we could all get some sleep.

Boy, was I wrong. Evan slept between us, on top of the blankets (he doesn’t like blankets, and his PJs are warm enough), which meant both Josh and I were lacking blankets at one point or the other. He fell asleep with his feet right next to my face, curled up against my body. I could see how easy it would be for me to get a black eye, so I tried to move, but then I ended up with no blankets. So we moved Evan a bit, and that was better. However, every time he woke up, he woke up with a cry into the night, so we had to sooth him again and help him go to sleep. Then he went to hang out next to daddy, then back to me, and so on. Finally at 6 am I took him to his crib and let him cry himself to sleep. I was that tired and determined to get a good hour of sleep. Turns out he was as tired as we were, and he cried for a whole minute before falling asleep.

When I went back to bed I told Josh “never again”. He wholeheartedly agreed and admitted that Evan was a pain to sleep with, and that his dream had turned into a nightmare and he never wanted to try that again. I was never happier to hear he had just as crappy a night as I did!
I’m sure sometime in the future we’ll give it another go, and probably decide again it isn’t for us, but while that amnesia kicks in, I’ll say it again: never again.

I think he knows...

Evan has been doing some things lately that he hadn’t done before. When we’re lying in bed with his books, he lifts up my shirt to expose my belly, and then pretends to give it kisses or Buddha bellies. It results in a belly covered in drool, but it’s still cute as hell. And he doesn’t do that with DH’s belly. No, that’s belly bongo, he bangs on it. My belly gets kisses.

I think he knows someone is in there…

24 weeks

Fifteen more weeks to go. It sounds like forever. Especially if I continue to put on 2 pounds per week. ::hangs head in shame::

I trust my body, I know I’m gaining exactly what I need, but dang it, 2 pounds a week is a lot! I really don’t think I’m eating that much more, and I only had one chocolate fudge cake in the whole 3 weeks (somehow I seem to think that matters)

My blissful second trimester of comfort period may be approaching an end. I’m starting to get heartburn again. I’m starting to experience some swelling on my ankles, though not every day. And have I mentioned I hate the bed we sleep in? I’m almost counting to hours till we move into our house (6 more days!)

OBGYN

When we found out I was pregnant again and we had such limited options out in Washington for OBGYNs, I got nervous. After the very dramatic birth or Evan, I realized that absolute trust and chemistry with your doctor is essential for a positive birth experience, even if drama filled. We absolutely loved our doctor in Arizona, and when he said a c-section was necessary, we had no doubt that he was doing what was best for Evan and me.

So when we started seeing a new doctor in Washington, I tried to find that connection. I didn’t really find it the first day we met our doctor, Dr. P, but it was definitely there the second time we saw him. Too bad that was the last time too. As we moved to North Carolina and were faced with limited options again, the prospect of started all over again was daunting. I even called a referral service and chose someone that was on island all the time, since so many doctors just do consults a couple days a week but don’t actually live here. When I called Dr. K’s office to ask questions about the practice, I was set up with an appointment and asked to transfer my medical file. Just like that, I had a doctor.

Dr. K is good. There was no click, like with our first doctor, but definitely seemed competent. So we made our next appointment. Next time I didn’t feel any better. It’s not that I felt uncomfortable with him, I’m absolutely certain he’s a good doctor that makes good medical decisions. Like DH said, it’s a bedside manners thing, and I just didn’t feel … something. And so after a lot of guilt and pondering the matter, I decided to go see a different doctor, Dr. D. I felt like I was cheating, consumed by shame for considering dumping my new doctor, for really no good, specific reason.

But alas, this is important to me. The day Evan was born changed from plain expectation to an absolute stressed out situation in minutes, and I would’ve lost it if I didn’t completely trust Dr. J. I don’t expect any problems this time around since we’re doing a scheduled c-section, but if I learned anything from Evan’s birth is that the unexpected can happen.

So today I met Dr. D, and the connection is there. And it was one of those “a-ha” moments when I felt the need to find the nearest wall and bang my head against it. Since I started looking for doctors online, I saw his name and it made me smile. You’d think at 31 I should know better than to ignore my instincts.

His character is a lot different, he offers a lot more explanations and asks more questions, he’s more approachable in a way. I’m a quiet person, I need someone like that. He immediately said it was a bedside manners thing (he used the same words DH used), and also that for c-sections Dr. K was excellent, and that in no way could he say he was a better doctor than Dr. K. They even use the same team (small hospital), so the medical aspect of it would be pretty much identical. But the experience could be different just because of the way they are. I agree. And I choose Dr. D. After that “a-ha” moment in his office, I’m confident in my decision.

The one thing that surprised me about Dr. D was that he was very open to a VBAC. I was not expecting that at all, I thought no one would consider it after only 16 months of a c-section. I actually considered it for a bit, until I started talking to DH about it and realized I was stressing out just thinking about it. No, thanks, I’m looking forward to a boring c-section with no drama or pain.

Now I just have to call Dr. K’s office and cancel my next appointment. Cue the guilty feelings…