Ian's Birth Story (Warning: Graphic)

After Natalie and Rachel's births, I didn't quite know what to expect for Ian's birth. I thought he might arrive a little earlier than Rachel did (2 days before her due date), and labor might turn the corner quickly as it did with her (~1 hour active labor before she was out).

Starting at around 37 weeks, I had several rounds of very real-feeling contractions. The first time this happened and it seemed to feel stronger than Braxton-Hicks and not go away quickly, I took it seriously. We called my mom out from Dripping Springs to watch the girls, and I notified a couple of neighbors and friends to be on stand-by in case the girls needed supervision before my mom could arrive. Five hours later, labor fizzled out.

Over the next few weeks, I had several more rounds of labor-like contractions, whose only distinction from the real thing was that they didn't get organized in terms of length and spacing, and didn't gradually get stronger. It made for a really exhausting last month of pregnancy.

Then my due date, July 5th, came and went. I tried lots of walking, a round of acupuncture, various foods, sex, massage, yoga to try to get things going. The contractions often came at night, often at around 11PM, which made for terrible insomnia. I was feeling very depleted. During that 40th week, I made a concerted effort to back off and rest while I could.

On Saturday, July 12, I had strong contractions for a couple of hours during the early morning, then things slowed down to contractions every 10 to 15 minutes... ALL day. I was so tired and cranky. At the end of the day, I texted the on-call midwife at the birthing center to ask her what I could do to get to sleep in spite of the contractions. She told me to have a glass of wine (that it would not hurt the baby at this point), and a warm bath, and go to bed. I took her advice, and fell asleep by about 10PM.

At 1AM I woke up with a strong contraction. 10 minutes passed, another contraction. 8 minutes, another. I was so tired of timing contractions, and so hoping this was the real thing, I went ahead and texted the on-call midwife to ask if I should come in. 4 more minutes, another contraction. I texted that info to her, and she replied, "I'll meet you there." Called my mom and a neighbor to come stay with the girls until my mom could get there. I went to get Rob out of bed.

"What the fuck?!" he stammered as he sprung out of bed, confused and on high alert. He hadn't been asleep long, and I'd caught him in a moment in which his natural reaction was fight-or-flight. We laughed about this later. His mind must have been worlds away from my waking him because I was in labor and ready to go to the birthing center.

My neighbor graciously drove me in our Pilot to the birthing center--the little suitcase was already packed and waiting in the hatch. I had a contraction before we left and another right when we arrived. We settled into the Barcelona Room, which was formerly the Santa Fe Room, where I delivered Rachel. Cool! I was excited and really hoping this was the real thing.

Then the contractions slowed down to 10 minutes apart, then limped along at 8 minutes for a while, not seeming to go anywhere. I was dilated 4cm. Roswitha, the midwife, said we'd wait a bit longer and see, but that at 8 minutes apart, she might have to send me back home. I pretty much told my body, inwardly, that I wasn't going to stand for that. I got out of the bed to try to encourage the contractions by walking around. It worked. Things picked up to 5 minutes apart. Then in maybe another hour, they ramped up to 2-3 minutes apart, long and hard. I could feel myself going inward, unable to communicate much with the people in the room (Rob, Cat and occasionally Roswitha. Cat is a midwife in training/birthing assistant.) Things were getting really painful now, and I knew I was progressing. They reminded me to "breathe down" the contractions. I went into the low, gutteral moaning mode. It's weird how you forget these phases until you're in them again. I labored against a chair for what felt like I long time. I tried hands and knees, but it felt like too much work. I started dry-heaving at the end of every contraction, so I was often hovering over the trash can by the end of one. Somehow, I never vomited.

The next time Cat checked me, I was 6cm dilated. I had been asking to get in the tub, which she had advised waiting to do until labor was further along, lest I accidentally slowed things down. The tub seemed like my only possible relief as the recovery period between contractions was starting to feel non-existent. At 6cm, I got in the tub.

I labored on my back, sitting in the water, bracing my hands and feet against bars on the tub, for what felt like a long time. My back was killing me, but I didn't feel like I had the energy to labor in a more active position. I was shaking, making lots of gutteral noises, and starting to grunt--signs of moving into the transition phase, I think, because Roswitha was called in at this point. She checked me--9cm, and just a cervical lip and the bag of amniotic fluid was holding the baby back. I thought surely this was the light at the end of the tunnel. I tried to push through the next several contractions. I would reach the peak of a contraction, start to feel it taper off and immediately start heaving and shaking. I was really exhausted, and getting scared that I wasn't pushing out a baby yet. Ros tried to break my water, and remarked that I have very thick membranes. (A good thing, since I was Group B Strep positive--broken water early in labor would have meant a higher exposure risk for the baby.) Then she noticed something.

"He's turned, OP." She stated. "Move to your hands and knees and we'll try to turn him." My heart sank. OP means face-up. Natalie had been OP, and that had made labor longer and harder. I knew it was possible to deliver a baby OP, but not nearly as easy as a baby turned face-down. With lots of help, I turned over to my hands and knees for the next contraction. The next 10 or so contractions were probably the worst pain I have ever felt in my life, with next to no recovery in between. I was shaking, begging God to help me, all the while feeling the intense muscular effort that I knew I could do nothing to slow or stop. There was no way out except to keep going, even when I felt like I had already exhausted my last energy stores. I prayed for something to change.

"Can I get out of the tub?" I asked. "Of course," Cat and Ros answered, "changing positions might help" (or something like that--the exact words escape me.) I had another awful contraction when I climbed out of the tub, then they raced me to the bed for the next one, on my hands and knees. My water finally broke, like a dam gushing all over the bed. I'm sure I soaked all the pads and such they had put down. They helped me to my side, and checked me again. I was fully dilated. At this point I was still shaking, and grateful to stop trying to get the baby to turn and just focus all my last fumes of energy on pushing. I felt like I might just die mid-push, I was so exhausted. All 3 of them helped--2 grabbing each leg, 1 grabbing the other end of the ski rope that I was clutching, and coached me into the right head-tucked position to push the baby out. I tried one on side, maybe 5 sets of pushes (4-5 pushes per contraction, I think). They helped me flip to the other side, and repeated the pushes. If they weren't such enthusiastic coaches, I don't know how I would have kept going. Finally they had me push on my back, and he started crowning. Roswitha had me reach down to touch baby's head--squishy and covered in hair. Finally, I was truly at the end! Several more pushes, long then short, and he was finally out, warm and slippery on my belly. I collapsed back onto the bed, just clutching him in my arms, waiting to deliver the placenta. They waited until the cord stopped pulsing--which seemed to take a while--then had Rob cut it.

It took a while for the placenta to come out, and for the bleeding to taper off. Looking back on it now, I think my body was so exhausted, it was resting before making my uterus contract again. Once Cat gave me a shot of Pitocin, the bleeding slowed down to an acceptable level.

As had been the case with Rachel, Ian took a long time to calm down enough to latch on and nurse. I guess he had a lot to say about his labor, too. Once he latched on, he decided that was the thing to do for the rest of the day. He did finally go to sleep at one point. I tried to sleep, too, and I did manage to rest. Rob brought Tacodeli breakfast tacos. My mom came up and met Ian, then came back with the girls so that they could meet him later. I was running on fumes, but it was a special and heartwarming day. Ros and Cat stayed probably 2 hours after their shifts ended, making sure everything was going well with Ian and me before they left. Kim (midwife) and Carol (nurse) took over, and took good care of me as they got us through the paperwork and prepared us to go home. Rob came back, we packed up, and took Ian home at around 2PM.

Physically, this was my hardest labor out of the three I've experienced. Emotionally, I'd say Natalie's was the hardest, since it was my first and I was out of control of the process (unwanted induction). Ian has been the sleepiest of my three babies, which has been a godsend, because I don't know how Rob and I would have the energy to help all three kids if Ian wasn't a good sleeper. We'd have to hire someone, probably for overnight help. Thankfully, I've slept better since he was born than I did in the entire month leading up to his birth.

When I look back, I'm amazed that I delivered a 9-lb baby, who was facing the wrong way in the birth canal, with no drugs or interventions. Had someone offered me a C-section near the end, had it really been an option, I would have taken it gratefully. As it is, I'm grateful that Roswitha and Cat had the wisdom and patience to know that as long as everything was fine with the baby, I could find the strength to push him out. I didn't even tear, which is an improvement on the previous two labors. I'm immensely grateful for another healthy, vigorous baby, and excited to get to know him as he grows up.

Why breastfeeding sucks right now, but will be completely worth it later.

I'm now breastfeeding my third child, which might make you think I'm some sort of instant pro at it. You might be thinking, "how hard could it be?" Unless of course, you've tried it. Then you might be thinking, "well she must be good at it, " or "she must have babies who nurse well."

I'm here to tell you that whenever the experts (doctors, lactation consultants, La Leche League literature) say "it shouldn't hurt," that's really a half-truth at best. What they should tell you is that it will very likely involve some soreness, possibly some real pain in the beginning, but that the soreness won't last forever and there are remedies to get you through it. And it's worth it to get through it.

Because for me, the first week ALWAYS hurts. It always involves soreness, no matter how fantastically baby latches on for the first time or the first ten times. Yes, it's important to pay attention to positioning and make sure your baby latches on as well as possible. But that's NOT going to prevent you from having any pain whatsoever. Here's how I know this: even pumping hurts for me in the first week. A pump really can't have a bad latch unless you've fallen asleep and let the thing slide off your nipple and onto bare skin (this happened to a friend--ouch!) But a pump will suck on you, and if your hormones make you engorged and extra sensitive in the nipple region, this sucking is going to hurt, at least mildly and temporarily.

Pumping aside, my babies have ferociously strong sucking instincts, especially in those early colostrum-only days. You know, approximately days 1-3, when your easy-flowing milk isn't there yet. Rob was complaining that his pinky hurt after newborn Rachel and Ian sucked on it. Think about the nerve endings in your pinky, and multiply that by about 20, then again by the 12-16x a day they want to nurse. Ouch.

Then add engorgement to the mix. Day 2 or 3 for me. Those soft breasts turn hot, hard and angry. In my case, they don't seem to want to give up all that milk right away, either. The bumpy, hard nipple/areola is harder for baby to get and keep a good latch on. Fortunately there are some remedies for this, too.

By Day 5 or so, things can soften and calm down to the point where it feels like the worst damage is over, the healing is beginning, and I don't need to marshal so many remedies and preventive measures to get through each feeding. By next month, Ian might be able to latch himself on properly in the dark, as Rachel did by that age. Until then, if I diligently position him well and do just a few things to make for a better latch, we'll keep on trucking and I can be reasonably confident that the worst is well over.

The good news is that after the first month or so, you and baby will have learned each other and the process so well, that you hit payoff mode, where things get good and start to get better and better.

Payoff:

• Baby's digestive system will be happier with breastmilk than formula, resulting in fewer blowouts, less gas and stomach/GI pain. (We switched to formula at 8 months with Natalie and holy moly, the blowouts!) Less need to burp.
• Breastmilk is a natural sedative for baby at night, and the hormones are a natural sedative for you. Result: You both get back to sleep faster than you would otherwise.
• Breastmilk is free (after the initial month's investment, getting over the pain), and always available at the right temperature. No storage/contamination concerns.
• You will lose weight effortlessly, or be able to eat whatever you want without gaining weight.
• Nursing is the best tantrum tamer, if you make it into the toddler years. This is the single biggest reason why I nursed Rachel until age 2-1/2.
• Those cluster feedings that drive you crazy and keep you and baby tethered to each other during the first month? They go away shortly after that, unless baby is sick or something. The feedings gradually space themselves further and further apart. 
• Baby gets more efficient at nursing. What used to take 20 minutes will soon take 5. Yeah!
• Nursing babies rarely, if ever, get constipated. Having gone through constipation with Natalie--believe me, it's best avoided if possible.
• Built-in bonding.
• Possibly fewer ear infections and illnesses. Knocking on wood here, but so far none of my kids has had an ear infection. Ever.

Here's an overview of what I've learned or remembered this time:

Engorgement:

• Dry heat really is your friend. Heat up a rice sock or heating pad and hold it against the engorged flesh of your breast. Not your nipple--I bet that would hurt. Do this for a minute or two prior to starting the feeding, and massage the breast tissue (gently) to help open up those milk ducts.
• Pumping is your enemy when you're engorged. Use it only as a last resort to relieve engorgement, because it tends to backfire--you'll be just as engorged or worse in an hour or two.
• This came from a lactation consultant, and I wish I knew about it earlier! Prior to latching the baby on, surround your nipple with your fingertips, push back against the areola toward the chest wall, then gently pull the nipple out to extend it. This momentarily softens the areola and lengthens the nipple, which makes it easier for the baby to correctly latch on (and stay on).
• Don't be afraid to nurse frequently, but do feel free to cut your baby off it's just dragging on too long and you're hurting. Switch sides, if nothing else. This will give you and your baby and chance to practice that pinky-unlock thing you have to do to get them unlatched if they're not letting go.
• Ibuprofen might be your friend, too. It's anti-inflammatory, which might help somewhat with the engorgement. It helped me.

Nipple soreness:

• Have your baby nurse on the less sore side first, because he/she is going to suck harder at the beginning of the feeding. When you switch sides, the suck should be less intense, giving your more damaged nipple more of a chance to heal.
• Use lanolin--apply after each feeding and before covering up your nipples, so that they don't scab and get stuck to the inside of your bra.
• Those soothing gel pads are only helpful for maybe 24 hours. I used mine too long, found that they started adding to the pain, then promptly threw them in the trash, and have felt better ever since.

Getting a good latch:

• Feed in a quiet, reasonably well-lit room in the beginning. Kids barging in or a too-dark room can make for accidental bad latches.
• Don't re-latch your baby 5-10 times trying to get the perfect latch. It will hurt worst in the first 15-30 seconds of the feed, then ease up (to hurting less or not at all) after that. If it's really a bad latch, it will hurt too much for you to continue beyond 15-30 seconds.
• Those little baby arms and hands are going to get in the way at first. Experiment with swaddling to wrap the arms down, but if that results in more frustration for your baby (and ultimately, you), unwrap the arms and do your best to patiently work with your baby until he/she understands that the hands have to be out of the way in order to nurse. I find myself saying, "arms down" to remind Ian of this, though that's probably more for my memory than his.
• The asymmetrical latch works well--just don't forget to line up baby's belly against yours and cradle the base of his/her neck with your hand properly before attempting to latch on. This positioning really helps.
• Cross-cradle hold is the easiest one to get right at first. It puts you more in control of your baby. It's not so friendly on your back, in my experience, but you can work on easing things up on our back after your nipples are okay. Take your time working up to side-lying or cradle hold. Football hold works best in armless chairs (or in the middle of a couch.) But it's not my forte, so I'll just list it as another option.

Here he is! Ian Leonard Linton

After a cozy (for him) 41 weeks and 1 day in the womb, Ian Leonard Linton joined our family at 7:51AM on Sunday, July 13, 2014.

I will get around to writing the birth story and what has followed soon. For now, I'm going to follow the sage advice to nap while the baby is napping. Especially since I didn't do that this morning.

He's so precious. I am nowhere near tired and gazing at that sweet face, which is good, because we're spending almost 24/7 together these days.

Natalie and Rachel are beyond excited to have their baby brother. I remind them a hundred times a day not to mess with him while he's sleeping, but they can't resist. At least they're pretty gentle about it.

Things I'm Enjoying at 9 Months Pregnant

Being 9 months pregnant is no picnic, any mother who remembers will tell you. I say "who remembers", because I know that these days will quickly get blurred into obscurity after the baby arrives. Bringing a baby into the world is such a monumental change, it tends to eclipse what came before it. Yes, even if you've done it all before.

I'd wager that no woman in Texas history has ever been sorry to have a summer baby arrive a little early. It's hot out there. But this post isn't supposed to be about complaining--there are actually some things I'm enjoying at 9 months pregnant, and I feel like that's worth writing about. Here they are, in no particular order:

1. The slow pace. I am not one to naturally take life slowly. It usually takes a force beyond my control to consistently slow me down. In this case, I am physically limited. I can't plan an action-packed day or weekend, because I know I just don't have the stamina to get through it. I can do relatively easy things, slowly. I have to take breaks. I can't take on big projects, or plan vacations (except in the distant future). Lucky for me, I have a very supportive and understanding husband who has adapted to the situation and makes sure I get a break from the kids in the evenings. He's taking them to the YMCA every evening while I read, or go for a short walk, or just relax. Since I've been on maternity leave, I've watched seasons 1-4 of Downton Abbey and read an entire book so far. I'm on my next book now.

2. Sweet moments with my daughters. We are coming upon the end of an era, and the days of just Natalie and Rachel and me feel sweeter for it. I enjoy their laughter, smiles, silly and cuddly moments. I can't read to both of them in my lap anymore, but they've adapted. Things are relatively simple and easy with them right now, and they're nowhere near as high-maintenance as a baby will be. I know that and I treasure it.

3. The scenery. June may be uncomfortably hot and humid in Austin, but it sure is pretty, especially this year. All the Crape Myrtles at my house and around town are bursting with blooms this year. Everything looks lush and vibrant. The "jungle" look is still here--it's not hot or dry enough to chase that away yet. Sure, there are mosquitos, but I can sit on the back porch among the citronella candles and incense and be comfortable enough. The garden is in maintenance mode at this point, both because I'm so far along and because the season is--this is the gardener's respite between busy seasons, except for watering, which hasn't been too demanding yet this year. I get to sit back, relax and enjoy.

4. Nesting. Though it's tiring, nesting is also fun for me. I spent four days last week preparing big-batch crockpot meals, serving them to the family at dinner, and squirreling away the leftovers in the freezer for after baby's arrival. After four days, I was ready for a couple of days of take-out, but it was fun to get into the groove of preparing meals. I have tackled a few small cleaning and organizing projects. I've taken in some baby toys and gear. The bassinet is ready to go. My bag is packed for the birthing center. Doing all of that was exciting, something to focus on while anticipating an exciting change.

5. Sleep. I'm so close to holding this baby in my arms, I can taste it. But the sleepless nights haven't set in yet. I'm still in the stage of sweet anticipation. Okay, I'm not sleeping like a champ--I still wake up at least once a night, and turning over is not comfortable. But I can get back to sleep and get in a reasonable number of hours. When my girls are napping, I can (and do) take at least a power nap. Sleeping in, when I can get away with it, feels great.

Reflections at 9 Months Pregnant

As of this week, I am 37 weeks pregnant, just over the 9-month mark, settling into the true home stretch. 37 weeks is always a welcome sight, as any delivery prior to that would automatically land baby in the Neonatal ICU, an experience I wouldn't wish to repeat or for my child to experience. Not that NICUs don't have their important purposes; it's just that my experience with Natalie in the NICU left a sour taste.

When Rachel was born, I was keenly intent on securing for myself and my child a birth experience that was the complete opposite of Natalie's: spontaneous, intervention-free to the extent possible, with little to no separation of mother and child, and a quick return home. I got everything I wanted in Rachel's birth, and a lot of healing, too. Even my chronic sciatica and related pelvic alignment issues resolved. I was very prepared, with a doula and my husband and parents and even a few neighbors ready to pitch in and help with childcare or any other support we needed.

This time around, going back to Austin Area Birthing Center felt like an obvious choice--we'd had such a good experience there with Rachel, there was no sense in changing anything.

I've realized, gradually, that I haven't put the same level of intention into the birth experience this time. I feel like I'm adequately prepared--the bassinet and carseat are ready to go, I have stocked up on diapers, receiving blankets, and all the birth-day necessities. My little suitcase is packed. We don't have a doula this time, but my husband and parents and neighbors are standing by. The girls are considerably older than Natalie was when Rachel was born, and they understand what's coming and can be of genuine help if they choose. They're capable of getting things for themselves, taking care of their own basic needs, and entertaining themselves and each other. That alone is a huge difference between this time and last.

Still, it occurs to me that every birth is different. Last time, true labor started at around 7AM, which was just about perfect--I hadn't had a wonderful night's sleep, but I had slept, and I went into the whole process with about as much energy as I could possibly have. I delivered her in the jacuzzi at 12:30PM. Rachel was born just 2 days before her due date, which is pretty ideal timing. There were a few funky details--we had to take a couple of extra precautions to avoid my transmitting Group B Strep to her, and she had some facial bruising following the delivery that made for some discoloration and swelling we had to keep an eye on. She was on jaundice watch at home, but she never developed jaundice. Otherwise, her birth was about as easy as I could have possibly hoped for. Nursing was uncomfortable at first, but she gained weight and we gradually improved at it until it was truly easy.

This time, any number of things could be different. I could go into labor at the end of the day and deliver in the middle of the night. Labor could take longer. Labor could come on and progress so quickly that we don't make it to the birthing center in time. There could be a train stalled on the train tracks between my house and the birthing center (a remote, but real possibility). This little baby boy could be significantly bigger or smaller than the girls (though no one has expressed concern about his size either way). The baby or I could develop some sort of complication that would necessitate a hospital transport, even a C-section or a NICU stay. Anything could happen.

I'll try to expect the unexpected, prepare for the worst and hope for the best. I'm truly not worried; I just feel like I am better prepared if I consider a range of possibilities. Cautious optimism, you could call it.

I've had bouts of Braxton Hicks contractions and aches and sudden pains that stop me in my tracks, on and off since my last prenatal appointment. I can't know for sure, but it feels like my body is preparing itself earlier this time. I don't know whether or not that will mean a birth well before the due date. Perhaps being in my third pregnancy, I just know my body's signs more acutely.

However he makes his entrance to the world, I very much look forward to meeting him, to look at his alien newborn face, to search his eyes, to stroke his soft hair, to gaze at his tiny articulated fingers.

The Home Stretch

This post is just my taking a moment to savor and appreciate the relative simplicity we have now.

Two preschool-aged girls, baby on the way, two months to go. The girls are wrapping up their year at The Butterfly Garden, which has been a wonderful experience all around. They'll participate in a couple of summer camps there, but in the fall Natalie will start Kindergarten(!) at Davis Elementary. She and I were over there this morning filling out registration paperwork during Kindergarten Round-up.

I'm still working part-time for CompareMetrics. That has worked out beautifully so far, though I don't know when I'll be back after maternity leave. I start my leave on 6/15. It's hard to imagine working 20 hours/week with a newborn and a preschooler at home, but who knows, it might work out better than I fear.

A new sibling can't help but make for a big family transition, and I'm trying to go into it with appreciation for the balance we know now, willing to let go and embrace whatever the next phase brings.

I vividly remember my last few weeks of pregnancy with Rachel, when it dawned on me that my one-on-one days with Natalie were winding to a close. It was bittersweet. I watched her sweet, bouncy 18-month-old steps and treasured her cute little voice. I read books with her in my ever-shrinking lap, and snuggled her close.

I was excited to meet Rachel, and I'm excited to meet this next little guy. No, we still don't have a name picked out. We've been even busier than we usually are, and just haven't had time to sit down and make a list of names for serious consideration.

This time, I've been very slow to gear up and carve out a nursery space for the little guy. Friends have been so generous with clothes, so I feel like we're well covered in that regard. I still need to get an infant carseat, and probably an Ergo, too. Rachel lived in the Ergo for the first six months. A good friend gave us her single stroller--the single strollers of Natalie's baby days are long gone, and we didn't want to go back to using the double strollers if we can avoid it. Too much potential for sibling squabbles, I think.

Excitement and chaos is surely coming. Long, hard days are coming. It'll be great, in its own way, but I'm happy to savor the relatively slow, predictable calm of today.

Our A/C flaked out last night. The happy ending was that Rob was able to get it fixed by this morning, and the HVAC folks came out but didn't charge us when everything was working. But last night we had no choice but to sleep with the windows open and breezes blowing through the house. I tried to sleep in our master bedroom, on the front of the house, but couldn't sleep through the occasional loud zoom of a car or motorcycle careening down our long, sloped street. When I switched to the guest room, all was peaceful and surprisingly comfortable. I only awoke when I heard Rachel crying in the middle of the night, and ended up bringing her into the guest room to sleep with me. We slept a few more hours, then I gradually awoke to the rustle of thousands of leaves and the gradual building of birdsongs. It was a lovely way to wake up. Savoring...

Acceptable losses

Hi there,

Did I mention that Linton baby #3 is on the way, due July 5th? And it's a boy? Yeah. Cool, and daunting at the same time.

But not that daunting. After all, we've done this twice already. We have established our family culture, for better or worse.

Sometimes I find myself trying to push back the cobwebs in my memory to remember the newborn days with Natalie and later Rachel, and remember what we've learned so far.

This morning as I was cleaning up the breakfast dishes, I came across a cold bowl of oatmeal with only one or two bites missing. Ah-ha, acceptable losses. In my early days as a parent, I would have fretted over that bowl. I would have inwardly berated myself for letting my kids waste food, or scolded myself for not doing enough to encourage them to eat it. Outwardly I might have tried to coax (or drag) a reluctant kid back to the table to finish it. Or put it in the fridge and presented it later, insisting that they finish it before eating something else. And I did win a few of those battles, but the repeated experience taught me that 5 cents' worth of oatmeal isn't worth spending my energy on. I put it in the compost bucket and move on.

With oatmeal in particular, the girls treasure the morning ritual around it. Sometimes they eat the whole bowl. Most times they eat some and leave some in the bowl. Some days, like today, they take a bite or two and forget about the rest. I ask them to bring their used dishes to the counter when they finish their food. I've calmly repeated this instruction the requisite 1,000 times, and now they often (but not always) do it unprompted. In the case of the girls' putting their dishes on the counter, I've decided through repeat interactions that it is worth my time to ask them to clean up after themselves, even though it's often easier for me to do it myself.

I've had similar internal and external battles over wasted water, sand, toilet paper, construction paper, etc. There's a gradual cost-benefit analysis that happens, and I eventually decide whether to choose that battle or not. I reserve the right to change my mind, too.

As an 18-month-old, Rachel used to rip plants out of my garden. If you know how much I love plants and gardening, you know that was an ultimate character test. I failed a few times (found myself yelling at her) before I got better at coping. Eventually, I designated "okay to cut" plants and spots where she could dig in the dirt and pull things up. And if she pulls up something I care about, I take a deep breath and calmly remind her which plants are okay to pull, which are not. If I really can't take it, we all go back inside.

Above all, I no longer beat myself up over wasted materials. "It's the cost of doing business," one might say, when it comes to being a stay-at-home parent. I have a little bit of an environmentalist streak, as well as an efficiency streak, that used to really make me cringe at all the waste. I can say now, 4.5 years into the whole parenting thing, with two kids and another on the way, I am over it.

I remind myself that I make up for that wastefulness in other ways. I shower every other day (not because I'm so conscientious--I'm just comfortable with that routine and I don't feel dirty until 48 hours post-shower. But I can still take credit.) I set good examples by reusing items when possible, without being a hoarder about it. I compost and recycle. We don't upsize--we are keeping the not-so-big house that we have, in the neighborhood that we love.

"Don't sweat the small stuff" applies here, but it's not specific enough for me. I had to figure out what was actually small to me, and what was big. Harmony in the household is big. Spills are small. Teaching my kids to clean up after themselves is big. Their doing it perfectly or immediately is small.

What do I want them to teach their kids as they raise them? That should be a guiding question in my mind as I tackle these minor aggravations. I want them to be able to rise above their minor aggravations and value the relationship above all.

Every increment to the family is a bump up in the level of chaos and minor aggravations, sometimes major ones. Another ball in the air for the juggling act. Hey, it'll make me a better juggler. And, turns out, I love kids. (We're stopping at 3, though!)

Late night update

Well, this is a long overdue update, isn't it?

I'm up in the middle of the night, as I am every night lately, thanks to lingering congestion from this year's round of Cedar Fever. Oh, and I'm pregnant. That might have something to do with the congestion, too.

Yeah, wow, Linton baby #3 is on the way! The due date is July 5, 2014. Natalie is now 4-1/2, and Rachel's 3rd birthday is coming up mid-February. They'll be 5 and 3-1/2, respectively, when the baby arrives. Of course, I don't know how things will play out. It's never easy having a baby, but I think this time it might be somewhat easier than when I had Rachel, when Natalie was 19 months old, and not in any kind of childcare program. The girls go to preschool Monday-Wednesday-Friday now.  I have a part-time, work-from-home job now, since almost a year ago. Lots of things have changed.

To answer the obvious baby questions: No, this was not an accident. We did this on purpose. We're hoping for a healthy, happy baby, and gender isn't much of a factor for us. Lots of people want us to have a boy, since we already have two girls. We won't be able to find out what we're having for at least a week, at the 18-week appointment, or possibly a month after that, at the 22-week appointment. Maybe I can sweet talk the midwife at the birthing center into giving me a quick sonogram to take a peek at gender next time, but even if we do that, there are no guarantees that we'll be able to tell. Early on in this pregnancy, I felt like it was a boy. Over the past few days, I've been thinking it's a girl. I think I even dreamed about having another girl, though my dreams are chaotic lately and it's hard to remember where the line falls between thoughts and dreams.

Other than the regular midnight allergy party, and a few predictable aches and pains, this has been a problem-free pregnancy. Thank God. That's never a guarantee with any pregnancy, and my heart goes out to all the women who have suffered losses, and those who have endured high-risk and/or extremely uncomfortable pregnancies.

This time, unlike when I was pregnant with Rachel, I haven't felt like I've been pregnant forever. Roughly 3 years in between was a nice break.

I don't know what will happen with my job when baby #3 comes along. Well, I know I'll take some form of unpaid maternity leave when the baby arrives, because just surviving the early days will take all of my physical and mental energy. But beyond that, I don't know how the balance will shift. Natalie will start Kindergarten in the fall. Hard to believe I'm typing that; the years truly are short, even as the days are long. I will most likely keep Rachel in the Butterfly Garden, the preschool that the girls and I have both loved. There will be plenty of one-on-one time between baby and me on those days when the girls are both in school. That will be a nice change from when Rachel was born.

Rachel and Natalie are so closely bonded. It will be an adjustment for Rachel when Natalie goes to Kindergarten; they've rarely been apart for more than a few hours at a time. Heck, they seem to grow bored and miss each other even when they're just separated by naps. Even that is exceedingly rare; they still take a nap at the same time every day. Well, most days. I don't know how we have held on to naps this long. I've held on for dear life, even though I'm sure I'll adjust when that sweet nap time comes to an end.

Rachel said one day recently, "I don't need friends. I just want Natalie." It was in the context of a conversation with me about school and schoolmates. Rachel has a big independent streak, and doesn't seem to crave social interaction the same way Natalie does. Rachel definitely has her social side, too, it's just not necessarily her default mode. As with just about everything else in life, Rachel wants to socialize on her own terms.

They've grown up so much. They're showing their capabilities in so many ways. Natalie has taken a huge leap forward in patience, forbearance, grace. She's penitent when she thinks she's done something wrong. The other day, she sulked off to her room after I (gently, I hope) called her out for snatching food off Rachel's plate. Rachel had yelped in protest. I told Natalie, as I often do, that she wouldn't like it if Rachel took her food. When Natalie left the room, I thought she was upset with me for calling her out. Five minutes later, she emerged with a sunny look on her face from her room, and I asked her if we could chat. She nodded yes. I sat her on my lap and asked her if she was upset with me for telling her not to take Rachel's food. To my surprise, she answered that she was mad at herself for taking Rachel's food. I told her that we all make mistakes and lose control sometimes. I also told her that there is so much I admire about her, that she's become so patient, so kind and giving. She brightened. We hugged and she went on about her day.

It surprises me that they're not at the point of vying for equal treatment. I remember so many, "it's not fair! He got more than me!" moments between my younger brother and me. Maybe the girls haven't hit that stage yet.

I see that it's 3:30, and that's the time I usually pick to go back to bed, hoping that the Benadryl will kick in by the time I'm no longer vertical. I sleep somewhat elevated. "Sleep" is the optimistic term, but it will be rest, and rest is better than nothing. I'm actually more at peace with this insomnia than I have been with insomnia in years. Somehow it's just easier to accept the less savory parts of reality these days. Since I had kids, maybe. Or perhaps it's part of growing older. Whatever it is, I like it.