I might be a little emotional

Being pregnant is emotional.  There are a lot of hormones racing through you.  I am finding that I am extra emotional these days.  Not only do I have your normal pregnancy hormones rearing their lovely heads, but for quite a few weeks, I have had an added hormone syringed into me weekly to help keep my "not so perfect" uterus healthy.

I am finding myself focused on my two year olds birth, The Tater Tot.  From my past post, you can see that it was a bit of a traumatic, unexpected birth since he arrived at 33 weeks.  Its funny... when you have a preemie baby, your life shifts in ways you could never anticipate.  I find myself remembering things that I haven't thought of in a while.  What's funny is, we've made it past 33 weeks... this little Firefly is cooking in there, and we are now almost to 36 weeks, so these concerns shouldn't be consuming me, but that just isn't how the brain works I guess. 

I am remembering the NICU vividly.  I remember waking up the morning after he was born and finally being able to see my son and walking through the cold halls of the hospital in socks and multiple hospital gowns to find my son.  I remember the multiple isoletes that held all the little babies and being ushered to mine.  I was able to hold him, I was in shock, I was dazed.  He had wires on him, he was hooked up to things that I didn't understand at the time.  I remember being told I could do kangaroo time right away and having no idea what a blessing this was... I just remember being afraid.  Afraid I was going to hurt him or do something wrong.  All the wires were hard to manage while trying to put him to my chest.

I remember being discharged from the hospital and leaving without my son.   I never want to feel that pain again.  People were cheerful, telling me that he was in the care of professionals, that I should relish the sleep since I could go home and sleep for a whole night.  But I couldn't, they were wrong... I had to pump every 2 or 3 hours, I was worried, I felt a part of me was missing, I didn't sleep while my baby was in the NICU.  In the mornings, I rushed on the subway with the hoards of commuters going to work while I was going to the hospital, anxious to get there during Rounds so I could see the doctor... I rushed to get there before one of the NICU nurses feed my son, since I wanted to do it myself.

I remember arriving at the NICU with my 2 or 3 oz of milk that I had painfully pumped all night only to see other NICU Mom's with multiple 8oz bottles of milk ready for their child. I had to settle for formula, supplemented with my drops of milk.  

I remember walking through the hospital and seeing parents with their plump little babies in cute little outfits milling about the hospital and feeling so mad at them... I don't know why I was mad, but I was and I feel terrible about that.  

I remember my notes... the copious notes I took about The Tots weight, feeding schedule, strange terms that I had to Google when I got home that night.  I still have all of those binders with all of my notes and they seem like they come from a different time, because they do.  

And oh, meeting all of the other parents and their babies all in varying degrees of distress.  Offering advice to the new parents, watching the parents who had been there for months who seemed to know what they were doing.  

And The Husband, forging this path with me and our little boy, also unsure and scared, but positive and strong.  Going back to work so we could "save up" on his paternity leave so he could take it later if we needed it.  Telling me over and over that I was doing a good job and supporting me while I struggled to pump for months and helping me give myself permission to stop.  

As I sit here with 36 weeks within my grasp, I realize that the birth of the Firefly might be uneventful, and I don't even know how to feel about that.  I am thrilled, keeping my fingers crossed that it is a "normal" birth, but quite frankly, all I know is trauma and NICU time, so I am yet again faced with the unknown.  

Writing this out helps... I think.  Being emotional during this time is hard, and normal, so I accept that it is normal, and this is just where I am.  I am here, and my second child is safe for now and I can relax... so I will try. 

And we are at 2!

* um, this was written and I forgot to post it... hahaha!

Today is The Tot's birthday.  He is 2 today!  Knock me over, I'm in shock.  It oddly crept up on me, mainly due to my busy work schedule and being about 7 months into a "high risk" pregnancy, which means a lot of doctors appointments and what not.  But here we are, at two years old! 

Our little Spud has really grown leaps and bounds over the past month or so... he is truly a little boy now, and not a baby, even though he will always be my baby.  He talks up a storm, putting together little sentences!  He sings a lot too, although he is not a chorus member and prefers the solo lifestyle.  This morning he was singing Happy Birthday to himself on our walk to daycare, so I joined in, which was met with "NOO", so when I stopped singing, he continued.  Doesn't he know I was once considered a "professional" singer?  hahah, oh well. 

He has been doing swimming lessons all summer and is doing amazing.  He has always loved water, but the lessons were a bit scary at first, but now he loves it.  Still isn't a huge fan of going completely under the water, but every class he gets better and better.  We really enjoy the classes and so does he.

He and Noodles are still getting along.  Noodles is a pretty good judge of when he is "not friendly" and she steers clear.  Otherwise she loves bringing him toys so he can throw them to her... she tolerates his "kisses" and "hugs", which basically means he puts his face on her back and wraps he arms awkwardly around her.  So, she just waits until it is all over with a worried look on her face, but she is good.

He has no idea that a new baby is on the way, although he points at my stomach and questions "belly?" as if he is concerned with the basketball style... We've tried to talk about Mommy having a baby, and him getting a baby brother, but I could tell him we were getting a monkey and it would make about as much sense.  Now, if I told him Mommy was having a helicopter, well then that might be met with excitement!




 

I have her hands

I have my mothers hands, at least the way I remember them. Sometimes when I am doing something mundane, I will look down and see my mother, in my hands.  My sisters and I look like her sometimes... we've all gone through life phases that make me think each of us resembles her, but my hands stay constant.  They always look like hers. 

We are reaching ages, my sisters and I, that will overcome my mothers lifetime.  She passed away at 49 years old.  What seemed old to me then, seems so young to me now.  We're in our mid and early 40's... and it seems so young. 

These days, with a child of my own, I will hear my mothers voice in the things that I say... or I will have thoughts about her that I have never had before.  When I pick up my little Tater Tot, I see my hands and they look like hers and I am stopped for a moment and I sit down my little two year old and tell him what I know of his Grandmother, my mom. 

What fascinates me is the idea that my little boy, and the one on the way, will in some ways resemble me when they are 40.  Maybe their hands, or their feet... smile, laugh?  Who knows... but it is amazing to think that your DNA is passed along and that I treasure my hands because of my mom, and that hopefully my boys will see something in themselves that they know are mine. 

Mommy, the name

As I hit 24 weeks of this pregnancy, I can't help but think of The Tater Tot's birth just under 2 years ago.  I have written out his 'birth story' and plan on posting here soon, but had a few side stories that I thought I would get down on paper, as it were. 

Once I got to the hospital to deliver The Tot, I was amazed at how quickly I morphed into "Mommy".  I was never referred to as Mrs.Whatever, never, at any point.  When we were in triage upon arrival to the hospital the nurses all started calling me "Mommy".  As in.... "ok mommy, how do you feel"  or "ohh that was a contraction, mommy" or "UH, this baby is coming NOW mommy".  I didn't really have a name anymore.  My husband was also simply referred to as Daddy the entire time. 

At first this felt oddly comforting... Wow, I was already a mommy in their eyes, how fun!  But as my time in the hospital continued, it became a bit odd. From my hospital bed, nurses would enter to take my vitals and just ask, "how are you feeling Mommy".  I could have been anyone, did they look at my chart? Did they know which Mommy I was?

The Tot was born at 33 weeks and spent some time in the NICU, so I continued to be called Mommy... by everyone.  It wasn't that I became concerned about some sort of loss of identity, it was more that I wasn't sure they knew who I was and which baby belonged to me... I was just one of the many Mommies.  What started out making me feel special, a new mommy, suddenly made me feel interchangeable.  Like another "Mommy" could walk in and take care of my baby... since we were all just mommies, who cares which one. 

But in those tender hours and days after the Tot was born, I felt damaged.  He came too early, he was in jeopardy, I felt in jeopardy, and I needed to feel taken care of, and that my tiny, tiny boy was also special and being taken care of... instead I was just in the pool of other mommies.  (side note: I have a billion positive things to report about the NICU nurses, and will in another post... this was just an odd, well, side note.)

At times it felt like the old 60's version of a secretarial pool.  I would show up to the NICU early in the morning and deposit any breast milk I was able to produce into the communal refrigerator into a basket with my name on it (thankfully all the baskets didn't just say "MOMMY" on them!).  Then I hit the NICU and found my baby.. sometimes they had moved him to make room for a new baby without my knowledge and I would be frantic to find him... sometimes he would make progress overnight and they would move him into a new room of the NICU, each room taking you closer to going home. 

There was an ever changing chorus line of nurses, who I frantically tried to memorize names... but to them, I was still just Mommy.  I was there a lot and got to know a lot of the nurses, but I guarantee, they couldn't call me by name.  There were other babies there whose Mommies had to go back to work, and would show up during the day sporadically to see their NICU babies, and at least one Mommy who never seemed to leave the hospital.  But we were no different, we were all just pool of Mommies. 

Its so funny that this started to bother me, and I haven't really even thought about it in the years since we left the Hospital... and it is somewhat ironic now as I covet that name, Mommy.  I waited patiently until the Tot finally uttered "mama" and I thought I would die from love.  And now, being Mommy and being called Mommy is the most amazing thing. 

I am so excited to be a Mommy for the second time, and I am keeping my fingers crossed that this little Firefly takes his time and doesn't surprise us with an early arrival... either way, I look forward to being the Mommy again.

Almost 2!

A year has gone by....

A year has passed... and the past month has flown by.  My little Tater Tot turned a year old.  While I was over the moon excited about his birthday, it oddly brought up a lot of anxiety around his birth.  I haven't posted his "birth story" but plan to do that.  It is a story I want to remember, but it is also a story that I didn't expect, and it you know me, expectations are important.

Here is a picture of my little Spud at a year old.  I love him more than I can express.  He has changed my life.  He has changed the books I read, the TV shows I watch and quite frankly every part of who I am.  I used to LOVE murder mysteries, I used to love true crime novels, I used to love Primetime, to Catch a Predator type shows.  I no longer can read these books or watch these shows... I don't know why.  I don't want to hear about crime, or murder or bad things happening to people.  I scares me.  It doesn't interest me anymore.  Odd huh?  

My life has changed in a way that makes it hard to blog too... I love to blog, I love to write.  I always have a "novel" I am writing on the side... but I don't have time.  I am ok with this.  I only have a small amount of time with the Spud during the week since I work outside the home.  Our mornings are spent eating, playing, getting ready for "school" and work.  We walk to daycare and then off I go to work.  At the end of the day, we walk home, walk Noodles, eat, play, dance and sing, take a bath, read a book and bed.  Once the Tot is in bed, there is only so many more hours of awake time in me, which are spent with the Loving Husband. Then off to bed! No time to write.  

The past year has been crazy.  I am amazed how things can change so drastically, yet we find our way, find new patterns, find new likes and dislikes, all while watching the miracle of a little boy learn and grow.  He does something new to make me laugh every day.  So, in the spirit of new patterns, I am going to try to write more, either on here or offline.  The Tot's birth story is on it way... along with other posts. But for now, Happy Birthday to my little Tater Tot! You are a year old! (or you were, this post is late!)

9 months

This week The Tot became an official 9 month old.  It has been an amazing couple of months... Our wonderful sleeper has become a Not-So-Perfect Sleeper.  The little Spud wakes up in the middle of the night screaming, which is so new to us.  Thankfully it isn't every night and seems to kind of come and go.  

My little pensive child has also finally really discovered Noodles.  He watches her from afar, and giggles at most everything she does.  He LOVES when she sneezes.  Noodles has spent the last 9 months delivering toys to the Tot in hopes of a playmate, and she finally succeeded!  When she drops a toy by him, he will now grab it and they play tug of war.  He loves it and Noodles can't get enough.  

We are in the "crawling" stage.  Although I have explained that he is officially crawling since he "rolls" "scoots" and generally gets himself from point A to point B... the husband wants to see a classic "crawl"  Not sure if we will ever get there since he seems to get around just fine!  

We still have to work really hard to get a smile... but staring deep into our eyes trying to figure us out, he's got that down!  He loves to watch you talk and Mommy singing seems to be his favorite thing.

The whole pack is doing great.  Noodles' health isn't 100% yet, but she is making serious improvements.  We are just enjoying the summer and looking forward to some summer travel soon.  I hope to be able to check in a little bit more on this blog.... wish me luck!

Eight months old!

This little Spud is 8 months old.  I don't even know what to think about that.  He has started teething and has sprouted two teeth on the bottom as of this week.  He was very uncomfortable, but didn't get very grouchy, so that was great.  

Our sleeping patterns seem to have changed too.... Our amazing sleeper has had a few issues of late.  He no longer wants to go to bed and wakes up a couple of times a night.  It isn't terrible, especially since month 3 he has slept like a champ, I can't really complain.  I know it is just teething and growth and whatnot.  

He really loves Noodles, and Noodles loves the Tot too... from a bit of a distance.  The Tot loves when Noodles sneezes, that's his favorite thing she does.  Noodles loves when the Tot is still and she can get close enough to sniff without fear of grabbing.  

The Husband and I are great, short of being a bit sleep deprived over the past week or so.  We have stories of solid food issues, and that will come in a new post shortly!  Gotta go make baby food..... 

A True Story Transcribed by The Mommy

Scene: 3:30 am. A darkened bedroom in a one bedroom apartment in Manhattan.  A 6 month old baby appears to be sleeping across the room from a mother and father.  The family dog, Noodles, is curled up at their feet.  The baby stirs and looks over at his parents. 

Baby: Hey, Mommy.... you awake?

Mommy: grumbles

Baby: HEY!  Mommy?  Hey Mommy, I'm awake... you?

Mommy: Oh no....

Baby: Mommy, I have an idea... let's get up and party!  Yeah!  Come one, let's get up.... Mommy? a pause while the baby looks across the room.  I can see you...

Mommy: Little baby... go to sleep.

Baby: NOOOOOO, let's get up!

The Mommy gets up and goes across the room and picks up the baby.  She lays baby on changing table to change the diaper. 

Baby: YES!  I knew you were game.  Ok, I'll kick and scream and giggle, you can sing to me, right?  Sounds awesome!

The Mommy puts baby back in crib and gets back in bed. 

Baby: NOOOO, this is not what I want... come on, let's party!! Get out of bed Mommy! AHHHHHHH!!!

Mommy: Sweetheart, it is late, Mommy has to go to work tomorrow...let's go to sleep.

Baby: I. SAID. NO.

This scene goes on from 3:30 am to 7:30 am.... At some point Mommy becomes delirious and unable to transcribe the events*.

The End. 

*There might have been fewer words than transcribed.  

The Mysterious Case of the Shower

When I was pregnant, I read a lot of books and blogs.  about pregnancy, breastfeeding, childcare and yoga with your baby.  In a lot of these books and blogs they mention how hard it is to shower.  Not the act of showering itself I think, but the ability to take time to shower.  I was very concerned about this fact.... was mothering a newborn so hard that you couldn't even shower?  I couldn't imagine how that would be...  If you know me, I love to shower.  I love baths, pools, hot tubs, lakes oceans, streams... I love water and I also like being clean.  So the idea that I wouldn't be able to shower was very troublesome indeed.

So, here we are, and The Tater Tot is officially 10 weeks old and I can tell you that I have not yet missed a shower.  I shower every morning, and I take a full shower... So I started to wonder, who are these women who can't seem to shower and why?

I think it is all about priority.  I was in the park the other day, sad because I had no time to run, and then a woman zoomed past me with her baby, a very new baby, in a running stroller.  Over the weekend, I left The Tot with The Husband and went shopping and thought to myself that I would love to be able to get out during the week and run errands, and then a woman whizzed past me with a thousand shopping bags and her baby in a sling.  So, while I can't be sure whether those women were showered, I know I was.  So, it really is just a matter of what you find important.  I need to shower in order to be a successful mother... other mothers need other things.

So, how do I shower every day?  Well, I have a great husband who makes time during his morning routine to make sure I have a moment to shower. (he also makes sure there are clean bottles, groceries in the kitchen and dinner made if I need those things).  I also just time it right.... some days, after the Tot eats, he sleeps, so I put him in his bouncy chair, and then I bring the bouncy chair into the bathroom with me.  The sound of the shower (and even the sound of the hair dryer) seem to calm him anyway, so he sleeps through my shower.

So, mystery solved I guess.  Now, I guess I will try to figure out how to exercise... or not.