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.
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
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!)
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!)
Friday, January 31, 2014
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)