Sleep

It amazing how absolutely screwed up you can feel when you don't get sleep. With a three month old it is to be expected that I am tired, but after a few months without a solid night, I am a bit testy. I wake up wanting it to be night again so we can try again for a better night. I am jealous of my daughter who goes to bed and sleeps about eleven hours and wakes up ready for fun. Then I come and squash her dreams with a tired and cranky attitude. I am reminded constantly that it gets better and I know eventually it will, but I want to wake up ready for fun too. I am tired of waking up ready for bed.

As It Should Be

Yesterday I took both kids to a friend's house. She has a beautiful home with an amazing pool. We have been close since we had our daughters and the girls love to play together as well. She invited a few of the moms that we have known over these last few years, and everyone had two children now. It was a full house with so many little ones running around. The feeling in the air was part playful summer get together and part hectic drama control. We had short distracted conversations with wandering eyes to our kids running around us.

I feel very comfortable with these friends. We have experienced having our first children together and we all went through both trying and joyful times that first year or so. We have nothing to hide from one another and when other "new mom" friends have come and gone, these are the kind of people I think I will know for life. There are some differences in our styles and though I have no judgement to how any of them raise their kids, I just started to become aware of it recently. Twig has about four close friends that she likes to play with. Recently she asked me why we don't have a pool and all of her friends do. I would like to have a pool as well and hope to some day, and where it doesn't bother me that she asks about it now, I do wonder though what else she will notice she doesn't have that her friends do.

It is an important life lesson to learn that things aren't always equal. We all look around and see things we would like to have. I aspire to have nicer "stuff", take fancy vacations, get a massage, have my house cleaned more often, pay someone to organize my junk. The list goes on and on (at the moment I could really use a haircut). Some things are feasible and some aren't. I live in a city where the rich flaunt their toys and it is hard at times to not get distracted. I focus on gratitude quite a bit, and try to teach that to Twig, but for a child it is a bit more of a challenge. Everyone of these friends has a nanny. Some full time, some part, and these women not only watch their kids but also clean and cook as well. Most of my friends do work at least part time so they need an extra set of hands, but a nanny is more than that.

I have seen some friends treat their help, like just that: help. I have also seen these women treated like part of the family. Whichever way it goes the kids follow suit. That is the part that I think is tricky for me when I bring Twig over to other peoples houses. I make sure she knows everyones names and treats them nicely, but I wonder what she is thinking. The diversity in LA is a bit odd. It is such a segregated city both racially and economically. My husband and I were talking about moving to an area where it isn't so extreme but there aren't many to choose from. Coming from NewYork, I am not used to that.

My friend's nanny is awesome. She is on it. She had what seemed like an extra set of eyes and hands and was there helping out with a smile. She asked to hold Bud and said if I wanted time with Twig feel free to let her hold him. She even helped me change a rather messy diaper (now that is above and beyond). Before I left though she asked me if I am alone with my kids. If I have any help. When I replied that I don't she seemed shocked. She asked me if it was hard, and that don't I need some time here and there with my husband. I got the feeling she felt bad for me and my hard life. I might be way off here but did the nanny have a nanny when she raised her two sons. Perhaps she had a lot of family help, but does anyone just watch their kids anymore? I feel practicly alone in this, but I know I am not. I am just in a circle of people around me that do it differently. Not better not worse, but differently. Regardless, when I went to leave that day, I gathered my bags and kiddos and one of the mom's offered to help me out to the car. In moments like these I do not feel like I am at it alone. Women seem to instinctivly want to help other women. She helped me by strapping Twig into her seat and then asked me if the strap needed to be tightened or if it was as it should be. I answered that it was as it should be, and then thanked her and drove off. I thought about her question and for me right now, things are as they should be.
                        

Chill

Today my son is one month old. It feels like he has been here longer than that, and yet it seems to have gone by quickly. The stream of visitors has slowed, and there aren't anymore welcome packages showing up on the doorstep the way they did the first couple of weeks. I have been getting the swing of things, and even take both my children on outings on my own (a task that seemed so daunting the first day or two home from the hospital). I definitely went through a terrified couple of days. I even had the thought that I perhaps had ruined Twig's life forever by introducing a brother to divide our love from her. To the contrary, she seems to be in love, and so are we.

As each day passes I see myself get more and more comfortable with how uncomfortable the first few months really are. The sleep deprivation, the unscheduled feedings, the diaper explosions, all of the "stuff" you need, the witching hour... The list goes on and on, and yet this time I am not shocked. I have done this once before, and so I know there is an end to this part. I know the joy that is to come in the next year. I know the excitement we will all share when the "firsts" begin. So as we wait for a smile now, I know that is will be the first of many.

Last week I went to pick up a couple of things at the drug store. Twig was at school so it was just the baby and me. This woman asked me how old he was and when I responded that he was three weeks she said, "This must be your second child." She said I was too comfortable for him to be my first. I have been thinking of this all week. It's true. I was such a ball of nerves with Twig. I wanted so badly for everything to be right and I was so scared to screw it up. I read so many books, tried so many styles, and was too impressionable to everyones advice. I need only look at her now to have the confidence to know that whatever I did was just fine, because she is indeed just fine. This little baby has an excellent role model. I am proud of who she is becoming and feel strong in the choices I have made with her. If only I could have had this much confidence first time around. It just doesn't work that way though. I often wonder now why I thought it was so hard with just one, and I guess it was because one was still a shocking life change. That was an intense adjustment period and this time around I have had to hit the ground running for Twig's sake. There is not much sitting at home and staring into the baby's eyes. I am just doing it.

With my hands as full as they are, I have very little downtime. Exercising and writing have taken a back seat and so as I type this last paragraph, please be aware that I started this post a month ago and Bud is now two months old. He has indeed smiled at us and it has made all this work so worth it. Summer is in full swing and he gets taken swimming, out for yogurt, to outdoor concerts and wherever else we go with Twig. I am not signed up to take him to any baby classes like I did with his sister, because I assume he will get enough stimulation watching her. Each morning when I wake, I am not exactly sure what we will do, and at this point we don't have a schedule. I was never this relaxed with Twig and I don't think she was a very chill baby because of it. He is though and he seems very content being carried around from one activity to the next or just stay home. He is just going with the flow and I am following his lead.

                                              

Introducing...

Three weeks ago I gave birth to a baby boy. A son! On this blog I will refer to him as "Bud",  mostly because I hear myself calling him "Buddy", and also because he is a blooming new beautiful little thing and next to his sister the Twig that seems fitting. One day they will both have sprouted into larger garden metaphors but for now, so you know who is who, they will be "Twig" and "Bud".

Bud came into the world on May 12th making a more timely but slightly more painful entrance than his sister. Only two days late, I went into labor at 3:30am, and at 2:19pm a whole new chapter of life began for all four of us. It was not an easy labor at all. It started beautifully with contractions five minutes apart right away. We left for the hospital quickly calling a friend to stay and wait with Twig until she woke up. We got to the hospital at 5 am and I was checked in quickly only stopping briefly in the hallway to have a contraction. A nurse checked me and said I was eight centimeters dilated, which was exciting, but when someone a bit more experienced checked me I was really only 5. Still I was thrilled to be this far along and actually having the baby. I knew from my experience with Twig that labor for me doesn't always result in the baby that same day, so I found myself asking the staff if the baby would for sure be born today. They assured me he would.

As I anticipated my contractions slowed down considerably a few hours after getting there. I asked if my doctor could come break my water since that is what helped me with my first pregnancy. At 11am, my doctor arrived and broke my water, and a half an hour later we all sat there looking at each other. It didn't quite have the magic it did before. He checked me again and said there was a fore-bag (no idea) but some other bag of water to break and when he did that contractions came back. I was about 7 centimeters at this point and contractions were very close together and very strong. It stayed like this for what seemed like forever. In this time, I began to run out of steam, encouragement and the ability to move. I never considered an epidural with my first labor and with this one I wanted to get punched out and wake up with the baby in my arms.  My doctor said at this point I might have to consider another option since I seemed to be stuck (or as he said, "not progressing"). I was so discouraged by this and felt so immobilized that I had no response. My friend who was my doula for the day was my anti-epidural champion. She reminded me it would slow things down and that I should get up. I thought she was crazy in that moment too. Getting up seemed an impossibility. A midwife who seemed to always pop in with gems of wisdom, came in and pressed my bladder. She said no baby would come until I emptied it and that I had to get up and try to pee. My husband took me to the bathroom where I confessed to him that I  thought I might die. He told me I couldn't listen to the doctor, or my friend, and that I had to decide for myself what I wanted to do. Again I couldn't think much beyond the pain from the rapid contractions. I had started with such relaxed breathing and visualizations to get me through, but I couldn't think as fast as the contractions were coming.

My friend joined me in the bathroom and suggested I get in the shower. Reluctantly I sat on a chair under the water, in hopes it might refresh me a little. The contractions were beyond intense but I managed to stay under the water for two of them. When I got back to the bed I was hooked up to the monitors again, and one of the nurses started to guide me through a contraction. In the brief minute I had before the next one came on, I asked her if she could continue guiding me like she had. It seemed to help me get out of my own head. She agreed and by the third one, I felt the urge to push. I thought for sure they would tell me I wasn't ready yet but as soon as I told them, they checked and the baby was crowning. I saw everyone in that delivery room jump to their feet and suddenly it all moved very fast. I felt like I only pushed three or four times and he was out. I was absolutely exhausted and a bit out of it, but it was still incredible and amazing. That moment, with my husband at my side, looking from our new baby and then up to him, I was overwhelmed with love and awe again. We made another life and he is so very wanted.

 

The Waiting Game

Family has arrived, the phone calls are coming, Braxton Hicks come and go but no real sign of baby coming yet. Forty weeks today, and my baby is still pretty comfy it seems. All my friends with due dates close to me, or some even a bit after, have given birth already. Two of my friends were at the hospital last week together. Pictures of babies were sent with I wish you were here sentiments. I haven't felt impatient really, in fact for the most part I have been feeling ok, but today I wish I could know exactly when he is coming.

My obsessive nature is playing with dates to see which one sounds best. 5/10/12, 5/11,12, or 5/12/12. I am not willing to accept the possibility of it going beyond that. I have already decided I will stoop as low as castor oil and take matters into my own hands if I go more than a few days late. I can already check that life experience off and frankly ten days late was no picnic at all. There is something to savor with a few extra days. I'm going to get a manicure, frozen yogurt and maybe a massage if I'm still pregnant tomorrow. The downside is the physical discomfort right now. I have a shooting pain down my left leg every few steps, and sleep is a wrestling match between me, my body pillow and the wedge to hold my bump up. I cannot get comfortable, but if I think I will sleep when the baby gets here then I have suffered from a great deal of memory loss.

The worst part of the waiting is the build up of over-thinking. I am starting to worry about the birth, the hospital experience, the logistics of getting my daughter taken care of, and stupid things like remembering to bring what I need to the hospital. I am also now getting anxious to just see who has been inside me for the last nine months. Will he have hair? How much will he weigh? Will he look like my daughter or more like one of us? Will he latch on and take to nursing easily? Is he going to hurt me on the way out? All of these answers will come, that is what I have to remember right now. He is coming, no matter what. I just have to have a little faith that it will all go well. I want to hold this baby very soon but when exactly that will be is out of my hands. In the meantime, I will keep them massaged and manicured.

(Addendum: The conclusion of this story is that my nail polish is now chipped and my back is a bit achy because I have a baby boy safe at home... Stay tuned for the next post regarding his arrival!)

Hand Me Downs

The past few weeks my living room was covered with clothes from my friend's niece who sends her stuff on to Twig. After hours of sorting and two trips to Target for storage containers, everything is finally a bit more organized. My next project will be to wash and sort all of the baby boy clothes I have been given, and put them away as well. I have no issue taking hand-me downs. In fact, mostly all of the clothes that both of my kids will wear are passed on. This week though I got two bags from someone and it made me take pause.  My husband's ex-wife.

There is a longer story here but for the purpose of this blog I will keep it simple. She is remarried and has a baby. He will be six months older than ours and so she very generously offered his clothes. She also offered to drive them here to my house, that she once bought with my husband and lived in very briefly. I know, AWKWARD!  I am working backwards here. She and I have become friendly. We actually used to be friends years ago, when she and my husband were still married and even after they divorced. Time passed and she and I grew apart. Then a few years later my husband and I reconnected from a mutual friend. We dated, we told her (thinking maybe she would be happy for us) -- she wasn't though. Time passed and my husband and I got married. I actually ran into her a few times but chose flight over fight and took off unnoticed. Then my husband and I ran into her. He said she was behind me and I thought he was joking. I turned around and there she was. Suddenly it wasn't so awkward anymore. She is married to a great guy, and over the course of some emails we decided the four of us to have dinner. I thought that would be the first and last reunion, but things happened.

After a few miscarriages she got pregnant, and after I miscarried, having lived through that sad time herself sent over a care package to us. It was sweet, thoughtful and touching. I was going to reach out but we ran into her again a week later. Note to anyone out there who might be in the same situation one day, try to avoid running into your husband's pregnant ex-wife right after you have miscarried. It just doesn't feel good.  After that another few months went by and when she had her son, I dropped off some food and a gift. Note again to anyone out there in the same sitch, try to not get there twenty minutes after the ex-wife gets home from the hospital with her in-laws. Also feels kind of funny. A few months after that though and we have gone for walks together, out to breakfast and last week out to see a play. It is nice. It doesn't feel like we are picking up where we left off and yet there are things we know about each other that do feel really comfortable. We have talked about the elephant in the room very carefully and everything that we thought might be really akward hasn't.

So yes I have taken this woman's hand me downs. The clothes, that is. She and my husband made their own decisions and ended up where they are today. The house that I live in now is ours. We decorated it, made it our home, and have our family here, with no pet elephant anymore.

Ready Or Not

In a about three weeks I am due to have a baby boy. This is exciting and terrifying to me. With Twig around I definitely don't feel that I have bonded with my baby the way I did when she was inside. I didn't know if she was a boy or girl until she came out, yet I was creating imaginative fairy tales in my head of how motherhood would be. This time I know the gender, I know not to buy ridiculously expensive baby crap, and I know the happy part of the mommy hood comes with a lot of tears. 

With Twig I was ten freaking days late and I pray that won't be the case this time. I had sciatic pain that felt like I put a piece of tin foil on a filling. Every few steps I got an electric shock down my leg and buckled down. This time it's back and if I go longer than my due date that is five more weeks of agony, and I want to throw up just thinking about that. Speaking of vomit, I did a lot of it all through labor and I am not hopeful that it won't happen again, but it wasn't pleasant. I also don't look forward to the car ride to the hospital with contractions. With Twig it was a beautiful day and I saw people outside at a Starbucks and had the strongest resentment to them. Didn't they know in that moment that someone was driving by them in terrible discomfort?  How rude! 

At the hospital, I felt like I surrendered to the amazing nurses and my midwife. I knew I was in good hands. My doctor came and broke my water, and in less than an hour our baby was out. I remember only being able to reach as far down as the umbilical cord would let me. I so wanted to kiss the head but I settled at staring at an ear. I stroked it in amazement that my body worked and made a person -- a person with an ear. A nurse with a Russian accent asked/told my husband, "What is it daddy, eeees boy?" Neither one of us knew who "daddy" was because this wasn't a term we were familiar with at this early moment in parenthood, but did she just tell us we had a boy? For that moment, we were surprised. We didn't know the gender, but we had secretly both wanted a girl. My husband peeked and said, "It's a girl!" to which we both shrieked with joy. It was an amazing surprise.

This pregnancy we decided to find out for several reasons, first of which were we knew Twig would have preferred a sister. She is thrilled now though. I have less of a birth plan then I did with her. I don't even have a midwife. I am kind of just hoping for the best. I am not new to being a mom, but I certainly have been up nights trying to figure out how I will get out the door with two. I know that the freedom that having Twig in preschool has given me has been very short lived, and I cherish my time alone with Twig before she stops being an only child. My husband and I were out with her the other night and I went home and cried because our time together as a triangle is limited now. My husband and I have enjoyed watching her grow and it has been a privilege to be with her. Things will be different and we know that. We are receiving another gift though. I know it will be an adjustment for my daughter but she is also getting a sibling, a life long friend, and someone who I hope she will share an emotional bond with. We are all very excited and have been waiting to meet this little person for a long time. I don't know if we are ready, but who is really ever ready?