Reflection

The end of the year is supposed to be a time of reflection, right?  I've been reflecting lately on how motherhood has changed me as a person.  It's amazing to think how different I am in a few short months.  And I do feel the changes have been most dramatic since Wiggles birth, rather than since finding out I was expecting.

One of the big changes is my pack-rat-ish tendencies.  Thank goodness they've lessened.  I've struggled for years my entire life with the urge to save, preserve, and store everything.  I kept the boxes and packaging things came in.  I kept old movie stubs, receipts, clothing tags, etc.  Just in case.  And then there's the things that have meaning.  Like...old notes from an ex-boyfriend.  REALLY!?  Really.  I felt the need to keep them.  In a little box in the closet.  I scrapbook now, so that helps with some of the preservation of things in a nice way.  But I've just felt this strong need to keep STUFF my entire life.  At the same time, I've been incredibly frustrated by how this pull leads to clutter.  I don't actually like clutter.  I admire model homes and the like for their incredibly clean and uncluttered atmosphere.  But such an environment has been elusive at best with my pack-ratish tendencies.

Finally, finally, I've found myself changing in this respect.  It sounds cliche, but things are just no longer as important.  Now, there have been a few times already that I've recycled packaging only to regret it mildly later.  If I'd still had it I could have returned the object - but in the end, it didn't reallllly matter.  I guess this particular change started when I was pregnant - we got rid of a ton of stuff when we moved.  But since Wiggles was born I find myself looking over the apartment wondering what else we can do without.  I no longer feel compelled to keep gifts I have no use for (thanks MIL!) because they were a gift.

And, the best news for Wiggles and other future children, nieces and nephews - I no longer have such a strong tie with my toys.  Yes.  Toys.  I.....have a collection of lovely plastic toys (like Playmobil) that I have loved dearly and cared for meticulously.  And while one would assume it'd be natural to pass such a thing onto one's children, I had no intention of such.  No sir.  These toys were MINE.  Mr. Random thought it was quite ridiculous, but I brought the toys into the marriage so he could do little about it.  Guess what?  I'm now happy to pass them on.  When they no longer present a choking hazard, I hope Wiggles enjoys them.  And if we end up with children who have no interest in the more girly toys...I'll be happy to pass them on to a niece who would like them.  I think I nearly stopped Mr. Random's heart when I told him this.  This is a HUGE change in outlook for me.  And I couldn't be happier about it.

Mr. Random's Deal

Mr. Random is wonderful.  He is an excellent husband and father.  He's smart, funny and good-looking (of course).  But he lacks one thing.  A dream.  And it's driving him nuts.

It has been for years, actually.  Part of the reason he's worked mediocre jobs that bring no satisfaction, but thankfully a stable paycheck, is because he didn't know what he wanted to do.  And in the absence of a strong desire to do something specific, he just did whatever he found.  Which lead to retail and other less-than-fun positions.  Positions he found miserable.

So, here we are - 4.5 years out of college and still...he's not sure what he wants to do.  He thinks he'd be happy as the stay-at-home-dad.  Unfortunately for him, we had a baby a few years too soon for that dream.  If we'd waited until I was done with my PhD and gainfully employed it might have been an option.  He's though about being a teacher off-and-on for years, but for some reason has always resisted it.  He's not entirely sure why, but thinks it might be because it's not "prestigious" enough for his dad's approval.  Despite that, the job of teacher fits a lot of his personal requirements for a job he'd enjoy.

He wants a job that is respected.  That helps people.  With lots of time off so he can travel.  (is there any other career besides teaching that fills those 3 things?)  So he's going back to school to be a teacher.  But he's still not 100% sure it's the right "career" for him to be happy.  So that's what I was alluding to in the previous post.  Not only is it a bad financial move, it's a bad financial move for a "I'll-probably-maybe-hopefully enjoy what I'm doing after" career change.  Gulp.

In our defense, while Mr. Random is doubtful...I feel pretty confident he'll find out he loves teaching.  And I do know the guy pretty well.  :)

To move or not to move?

We have about a week to decide if we want to renew our lease.  Our apartment is raising our rent about 10%.  It's roughly $70 we really don't have.  I don't remember if I mentioned it on here, but Mr. Random is leaving his miserable job.  He's going back to school.  We're equal parts terrified and excited for this next chapter.

Financially, it's probably a bad decision.  It means we'll be living on my meager income from my RA and teaching at community college and student loans.  For 1.5 years.  Then we hope, pray, etc. that he gets a teaching job upon graduating.  So we can start paying back his loans.  I should graduate the following year, when we'll once again, hope, pray, etc. that I get a job.  So we can start paying back my loans.

So, financially, it doesn't make a lot of sense.  It'll mean a lot of debt that would have been nice to avoid.  And, if I get a teaching job, it's possible he could have gone back to school then for free.  But, finances aren't the only thing to consider when making life decisions.  A major factor was Mr. Random's happiness.  He's been truly miserable in this job.  Quite frankly, he's not been happy since we moved here for my educational pursuits.  He's worked one job or another for 4 years with the main requirement being income, not his own personal satisfaction or happiness.  It's definitely time for him to be able to pursue something he'd enjoy.  (if only he knew what that was...but that's likely another post - yes, he's not 100% sure this is a path he'll enjoy...yes, definitely another post).  Also, there's the issue of daycare.  It turns out part-time care costs more than full-time care (!!!) and would basically negate my income.  Or halve Mr. Random's income.  And things are pretty tight as it is.  So - instead of scrimping and scraping by with Mr. Random in a job he hates and Baby Wiggles in daycare, we'll take turns caring for the little one and scrimp by with student loans.  It doesn't make financial sense, but I really believe all 3 of us will be a lot happier for it.  And that's definitely worth something.

Anyway, complicating factors is this raise in rent.  It's going to make things even more difficult.  So...do we stay?  Do we move?  I've looked into other properties.  But we like the area we're in right now.  Though our neighbors are somewhat noisy and there are somethings about the apartment (floorplan, and noisy vibrating AC unit) that I greatly dislike.  We could probably rent a house for about $100 more per month than the new apartment rent.  But that's yet another $100 we really don't have.  And I do look forward to taking Wiggles to the pool this following summer.

What to do?  More research probably...and it looks like I need a pro/con list.

Gender Lines

This post has nothing to do with Christmas - but it has everything to do with a thought I had while laying back down after a 5 am feeding.  So I'm going ahead and writing it down...before I forget. :)

***

Growing up, I wasn't happy to be a girl.  I didn't want to be a boy exactly but I didn't much want to be a girl either.  It felt limiting somehow, but not in the way I think it does for most people.

You see, instead of feeling like I was limited to girl-specific undertakings...I felt instead that I ought to take on more boy-specific projects.  And excel at them.  That I needed to strive beyond "girlish" things.  It's hard to explain exactly, and I have no idea where I got this drive.  But in the last few years, becoming a wife and now a mother, I realized that all I had ever really wanted, was permission to be "just" a girl.  And do stereotypical girl things.  And enjoy them.

It's like the song, "everything you can do, I can do better."  I felt like that was my calling.  Like I had to prove that motto - in everything, and most especially boyish things.  I played a musical instrument that usually is played by males.  I excelled in science and math - all of my classes in these subjects were male-dominated.  I wanted to be an astronaut - also a male-dominated field.  I fought hard against showing emotions - especially crying.  I had this overwhelming sense that I needed to prove I could do whatever a boy could, and could do it better.  Hell, I even tried to learn how to throw a football (but am too innately clumsy to get very far in the world of sports).

But here's what I'm coming to realize.  While there will always be individuals that will blur gender lines, and excel in areas that are not typical for their particular gender - not everyone has to be such an individual.  In fact, if everyone was, there would be no gender lines to blur.  We'd probably cease to notice male or female as much.  And I think we'd lose something important.

So, it's really only been in the last few months that I've realized I'd like to be female...and that is okay.  I can be a girl, a woman, and enjoy the things women are "supposed" to.  And I'm not letting anyone down.  It doesn't make me less of a person or a failure.  It just makes me me.  And I happen to be female.

New Years Resolution

I've already decided on my New Year's Resolution.  It might be a little early, but not by much.  So, here goes:

For 2011, I resolve to be less cranky.

Yessir.  I am high-strung by nature, and run at a level of heightened anxiety...pretty much 24/7.  I stress over things.  Big things and small things.  And it's not healthy.  Or necessary really.  Most often my stress and anxiety do very little to help with whatever is causing the stress and anxiety in the first place.  In fact, mostly it is an obstacle by rendering me either completely useless, completely bitchy, or both.  And...it needs to stop.

I realize it's not going to stop completely, and especially not right away.  This is a hard habit to unlearn and is probably going to be a life-long project.  But I want to get started.  So - here's to 2011.  The year I will start mellowing out, releasing my anxiety, and learning to just relax and roll with the punches a little more.  All in the name of personal happiness and setting a better example for a sweet wiggly boy.

PhD, not MD

I may be working on adding a Dr. to the beginning of my name, however; I need to remind myself that that Dr. has nothing to do with medicine.  The experimental weaning from ranitidine was most likely a total failure.

I say *most likely* because, well, you never know for sure with a baby, do you?  So, we stopped Wiggles medicine on a Sunday.  Our theory - it was interfering with his ability to poop, and this was causing discomfort, which was disrupting his sleep.  Now...upon stopping the medicine our boy started sleeping better at night(4 hour stretches y'all!) but there was still no poop.  For a week.  Which...as he is breastfed could be normal, but was a bit of a long time without poop for his "normal".  And the trouble was, by the end of the week, he was definitely straining and then crying.  And farting, and then crying.  It was heartbreaking.  Meanwhile, we'd had that one sudden cry in the night...but nothing more.

So...was it reflux?  Gas pain?  A very urgent need to poop but for whatever reason it wasn't happening?  Finally, it all came to a head on the 7th morning, exactly 1 week after stopping the medicine.  He woke up and just cried.  It was like a flashback to his 4th week of life (just before starting the Zantac) but with much greater lung power.  He was definitely unhappy, and definitely uncomfortable.  :(

Meanwhile, Mr. Random had left right as he was waking up to go get some dark corn syrup.  This was recommended by the pediatrician's triage line as a potential cure for the no-pooping issue.  So I was supposed to wait to feed Little Wiggles until he got back - because we were going to mix the corn syrup with the breast milk I had pumped just for that purpose.  I was literally 5 seconds from giving in and nursing the hysterical baby when Mr. Random got back with the syrup.  So we gave him that.  And his Zantac dose.

And he did poop a little later that day.  And he hasn't been quite as hysterical, though he's still been more upset than normal.  And cried after farting.

So...was it reflux?  The need to poop?  Both?  Or - the wildcard, teething?  Because we think he's teething.  There aren't tell-tale white bumps in his gums yet, but if you feel his gums they're feeling thinner and you can kind of feel teeth.  And he's definitely chomping on things with his mouth.

That's the trouble with babies.  Far too many variables, and no way to control all but one.  I'm just glad he seems to be doing better.  And we'll definitely be keeping him on the medicine until we see the pediatrician at his 4 month visit.

Frustration

Ugh.  So, we're trying the no medicine thing.  And it's been 6 days.  And it's been going reasonably well.  We started seeing a longer stretch of sleep at night (at least 4 hours!) and there was more frequent farting and burping.  I was feeling good about our decision. 

And then last night around 2:30 am he woke with a LOUD cry.  Usually he coughs a little, makes some noises, and then starts with a cry that kind of winds up.  This was a 0 to 60 in .3 seconds kind of cry without any warning.  And it freaked me out.  At first, I wasn't sure what was wrong, but was incredibly worried.  Mr. Random thought maybe he was still asleep, but immediately after the no-warning cry he started the cough, cough and then crying in earnest.  I went and fed him and he nursed to sleep.  When I put him back in his bed I smelled that his breath was a little like stomach acid. 

Ah.  The Reflux.  Most likely anyway.  So then I stood there, unsure what to do.  I mean, he was back asleep.  Do I wake him up and give him his medicine.  No, of course not, you never wake a sleeping baby.  Do I give him a dose when he next wakes?  I decided I'd give him a dose if he did that screaming-cry bit again.  Which he didn't.

So now what?  Was it an aberration?  Was it because I ate a pre-packaged lunch that had onions in it, and only discovered this when it was too late?  Do we continue without the medicine or do we just dive back in?  Or perhaps go to half a dose? 

And why, why did we start on this endeavor without consulting the pediatrician?  I mean...at the last appointment I went to she had said we would probably try him without the medicine soon.  But, she was implying after his next appointment still another 3 weeks away.  And we just went ahead and did it.  Maybe because we've had such a crappy pediatrician up until this point we felt on our own anyway?  Ugh.  I just feel frustrated.  With myself and the whole situation.

Anyway, Wiggles is sleeping...so I best be off to bed.

Weaning, but not that kind

We've stopped giving Wiggles his reflux medicine (ranitidine).  He'd been not sleeping well for about 2 weeks.  And we noticed a correlation that the 2 nights in the 2 weeks he did sleep better, were also the nights after he'd pooped.  Yup.  I'm gonna talk about baby poop.

Poor little Wiggles seems to have a rather troublesome digestive system.  He had the burning spit up out the top, and has had lots of trouble getting it out the other end.  We've had to be really good about bicycling his legs every day to help him pass gas and poop.  Also, we found early on that if we made sure to sit him in his bouncy chair for at least a half an hour after eating (good idea for the reflux anyway) that he'd often poop in that position.  So, there's all that.  Well, after starting the reflux medicine, his poops got really mucusy and less frequent.  It could have been a coincidence of timing.  Or...it could be from the medicine.  No on really knows.  (does anyone ever realllly know what's going on in a baby's body?  It seems to me that no one does)  Anyway...he's still having trouble passing poops and we noticed 2 nights of poor sleep were accompanied by some farting right before waking.

So the theory is that the medicine is making it harder to pass the poop and/or gas.  And this is causing some discomfort, and then he has to really strain to pass these things and this wakes him up at night.  That's the theory.  I'm full of theories.

Anyway, so we're trying him without the medicine.  So far....so good I guess.  He does seem fussy today, but I couldn't honestly say if it's just extra tired or something else.  We're going to try a full week without and then evaluate and see how he's doing.  That's the plan anyway...wish us luck!

The Judgement

I was reading another blog recently talking about the judgement of new mothers.  And I will readily admit that I was guilty of being a little too judge-y myself, and probably still am to an extent.  I've definitely found that the roughly 3 months of motherhood I've already experienced have quickly changed my judge-y-ness though.  I am a lot slower to judge than I was before, and for that, I am glad.

But our society is just rife with it.  If you ever wonder why a pregnant woman or a new-mom seems a little on edge, perhaps a little overly defensive, it's because she is dealing with constant judgement.  From everyone, most likely including herself.

I have experienced The Judgement as both a pregnant woman and a new mom far more times than I'd care to recall, but one particular instance really rankled and has stuck with me for about 2 months now.  I was having lunch with a friend, who I am sure really means well.  But it still rankled.

We met for lunch, and I brought Wiggles along.  He was about 2 months old at the time.  This friend does not yet have children, but is starting to think about it and consequently has often asked me questions about pregnancy and parenting.  I am more than happy to share my experiences with her, and so we often discuss those two topics.  At this particular lunch, she asked if I'd had my follow up 6-week appointment with my doctor yet - because she knew I had some questions for the doctor about Wiggles' birth.  I told her I had and what I'd found out (not much! lame...) and then,

The Judgement.

She then asked me if the doctor had told me what I did or could do differently in pregnancy so that my next baby doesn't have reflux.

This is exactly  what I'm talking about.  A well-meaning friend still assumes that something wrong, something shy of perfect, some slight issue with a baby, must be the result of something that baby's mother did.  And it still kind of stings.  I mean...what if it was something I did?  Did I DO this to poor little Wiggles?  I mean...I know I didn't, and I told her as much and that if anything, it was likely genetic and not something preventable or a response to something specifically I did...but...gosh.

And I'm sure it's just the beginning.  This won't be the last time I'm accused for something I have no control over.  The joys of Motherhood, huh? :)

He's fine, of course

He woke up after 3 long hours.  A 3 hour nap!  Amazing!

And then when he does sleep...

I find myself overly anxious.  I worry that he's stopped breathing.  And I've been doing other things, oblivious.  Ugh.  Wiggles is taking his 3rd nap of the day.  The first nap was 56 minutes, the second just over an hour.  So far, this third nap, he's been down for 2.5 hours.  And it's taking all of my self control to not go in there to check on him...why don't I?  Because the door sticks and it'd likely wake him.  And when you have a baby that struggles with The Sleep as much as Wiggles does...you really, really, really don't want to interrupt when he does, in fact, sleep.  But boy does it give me anxiety.  I'll probably only hold out another 10-15 minutes...then I'll risk it.

Timing is Everything

It's funny how people are always looking toward the next "big thing."  When you start dating someone, they want to know if it's serious.  Once you're serious, they want to know when you're getting married.  At the wedding they're asking when you'll have kids.  At the birth of your first they'll ask when you're having another.

While it feels slightly crazy at this point to even consider another child (can I get at least 1 good night of sleep first?) it is something we've talked a bit about, however briefly.  It gets a little tricky figuring out the timing.

Before we were even married Mr. Random and I talked about how many kids we each wanted - and we both were and still are in the 2-3 camp.  It wasn't until after we were married I had the good sense to ask him how close together he wanted these 2-3 children.  He casually said that he thought about a year apart.  !!!  Do you know how long it takes to gestate a baby?!  I exclaimed.  He just smiled sheepishly.  While he understood my apprehension, he still felt it'd be better to have kids closer together than further apart.  And, I admittedly did not and still don't have a solid number in mind as the "ideal" spacing between kids.  I have seen sibling rivalry be terribly heated at certain intervals, and I've also seen kids with the same age interval be super close.  So basically, I don't know what the right interval is, but I can guarantee you that I do not feel ready to get knocked up again - and we'd be needing to right around now in order to go with Mr. Random's 1-year-apart plan.  Luckily, Mr. Random also understands my reluctance at this point and is not in any way pushing it.

Which brings us to the timing.  If not now, then when?  Well, the tricky part is figuring out when to have another without (further) derailing my career.  I still think that having babies while in grad school makes a lot of sense.  My schedule will probably never be this flexible again, and the demands on my time and abilities should only be escalating from here on out.  Publish or Perish!  And get tenure.  And what not.  Now, my plan is to graduate in Spring 2013.  Which I really think is do-able.  So, with that in mind, and the afore-mentioned desire to make babies during grad school if at all possible, the idea is that we should get knocked up June 2012 (cuz you know it's just that simple, right? - I kid) so that baby #2 comes around February 2013...and I'll defend my dissertation say January 2013 (you know, hugely pregnant because...well, that'll rock) and then have the rest of the spring semester and the summer to enjoy baby (struggle through the sleep-deprivation of the early months) before starting my new job (fingers crossed!) Fall 2013.  It's brilliant.  I think.  Anyway, that's kind of the current idea of things...but we'll see what happens between now and then.  :)

Night Waking

Wiggles has gone back to some terrible sleep habits.  He now will sleep for a MAX of 3 hours at a time.  And has decided 22 minutes to 2 hours at a time is better for night.  Sigh.  He had been sleeping at least 4 hours in a stretch at night...usually more like 5 or 6.  8 hours in a stretch a handful of times.

No longer.

And we're at our wits end.  It's only been 2 nights of this so far, but after 13 weeks of poor sleep...it's enough.  And it is SO frustrating to try to Google information on it.  Because almost every post I find suggests the baby is hungry.  He truly, truly, doesn't seem hungry most of these wakings.  And this little guy is WELL fed.  He went from the 25% in weight at birth to the 75%.  I'm not starving him.  But even more frustrating, I feel like the people posting and the people answering often start off with, he was sleeping 8 hours a night starting at 8 weeks...my son started sleeping 10 hours a night at 5 weeks, so trust my advice, etc. etc.  And I just feel cheated.  And like none of these people truly understand or can help in our situation.  Because we're going on 13 weeks...with 4 times that the little guy has slept an 8 hour stretch.

Now, I know I'm not the only one with a more difficult baby.  And the fact we've even got those 4 times probably puts us better off than some.  But...can't we get a break!?  I find myself wondering what I'm doing wrong.  How I can make it better.  But so far nothing is coming up.  No amount of Googling or asking other mothers - friends and my own - has come up with anything.  As far as they can tell...I'm doing everything right.  Or maybe they're just too nice to say what I'm doing wrong?  Sigh.  I feel like there must be something...

Mothers in Law can be like Herpes

I have one.  As many people do.  I think some people have mothers in law kind of like one has a large screen tv or a fancy car.  They're part of your life, but they're a nice part.  Others have mothers in law like one has herpes.  They're kind of intrusive...and rather bothersome, cropping up from time to time.  I have a mother in law that fits the latter description.

So, we went back to the Pacific Northwest for the holidays.  As NONE of Mr. Random's family had yet met little Wiggles...that was a big motivator.  Mr. Random was understandably a bit miffed at his family's lack of concern.  They all would exclaim how excited they were to meet the little guy...but none of them could be put out enough to actually come down to meet him.  Meanwhile, my family had come twice.  Just different strokes I guess.

Anyway, it had also been about 2 years since Mr. Random had been back and so we decided it was time and we'd celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday with a whirlwind tour through the state to visit as much family as possible.  Wiggles was a true champ through this crazy adventure.  And we wound up at Mr. Random's mother's house for the feast day.

And it was incredibly stressful and frustrating.  You see, first, MIL prefers a cold house.  And claims she can't afford to heat her over-sized house anyway.  Which may or may not be true.  But when I say cold, I mean cold.  She prefers to leave the thermostat at 55.  INSIDE the house.  55 degrees FAHRENHEIT.  That is cold folks. And very cold for a little baby from the southwest who previously had experience nothing colder than 60 degrees outside.  I was very worried about this, and said as much to Mr. Random, who is just as exasperated by his mother's antics as I am.  She conceded that she'd keep the house at 65 while we were there.  I was so grateful.  EXCEPT.  When we got there we found that she merely meant she'd do so during the day.  At night was a different story.  Because she had her heat set to TURN OFF at 10pm.  And not turn on again until 6am.  And guess what...the low the nights we were there were 2 degrees F and 12.  Um.  WHAT?  Yeah, we had to put Wiggles in bed with us.  He was FREEZING in his own little bed.  So I didn't sleep well because he wiggles in his sleep too and I worried a little I might crush him anyway.  So I was cranky.

Then...she doesn't wash her hands.  Ever.  Which...well, just grosses me out.  Because she cooks...and I have to eat this food knowing it was prepared by someone who did not wash their hands after using the bathroom. GAG.  Also...great, yes, please hold my baby with your germy, germy hands.  No problem.  Sigh.

But the food thing, gets worse.  Since Wiggles has such a delicate little stomach, my little reflux baby, I am still on a restricted diet.  We'd warned MIL about this and I told her that I might be able to eat more by the time we got there (we warned her a month in advance as she was cooking the feast) but told her dairy would almost certainly be out.  She responded that she couldn't believe dairy could be a problem because SHE ate such a wonderfully varied diet when she breastfed her kids and all of them were fine and the doctor told her it was because she ate such a good variety of things.  Blah blah blah.  Basically...I was a picky eater before and she found it offensive...and I think she thought this was a similar problem with me and my head.  She truly doesn't believe me when I say it effects little Wiggles.  So our first night there she made us "steaks" for dinner.  Steaks that had ham and swiss cheese hidden inside.  Did she warn me?  No.  She brought out the steaks with great flourish telling us how loved they are by this person and that that she made them for.  I cut into it and find the "white stuff" and ask what it is.  She tells me it's swiss cheese with a smile.  SERIOUSLY?  Oh that made me so mad.  She had just finished saying she had such a hard time coming up with a meal to make that I could eat with my restrictions and was so happy when she thought of this one.  What?  The one with SWISS CHEESE in it seemed to fit the no-dairy rule?  Ugh.  If she'd just told me that should couldn't make a meal without dairy, that would have been fine.  Or told me the steaks had cheese, also fine.  Because then I could just get my own food or whatever.  But instead it felt like a total set up.

Then, on our last morning, as we were getting ready to leave, we looked for her to see if she wanted to hold Wiggles for a bit while we packed as it was her last chance and every other place we'd been the people had been basically standing over us waiting for the chance to cuddle the little guy.  She was out shoveling snow.  Ever the martyr.  Whatever, her choice.  But it was kind of infuriating that instead of spending her last hour with her only grandson, she'd rather shovel snow so that she could complain about it later.  And she will.

I can tell you, I NEVER want to take a baby to her house again.  It was just too damn frustrating.  And cold.

Reflections on Pregnancy

I was realizing the other day that I do not miss being pregnant.  I really don't.  I know some women personally, and have read others I know less personally,who love being pregnant.  I am simply not one of them.

I am very glad to have gotten to experience pregnancy.  I fully realize not everyone gets to experience that miracle.  I also did find the whole experience fascinating and I did enjoy feeling the little guy move around.  I also am very happy to have the little guy that the pregnancy helped develop.

But...actually being pregnant...is just not my thing.  And maybe that's funny because I had a super smooth pregnancy with Wiggles.  No morning sickness to speak of.  A few bouts of nausea, but so few I can count them on one hand and they never were so bad as to induce vomiting.  Really a textbook pregnancy.  And yet...I'm so very, very glad to have my body almost all to myself again (also can't wait to get my boobies back...well, I realize I'll miss nursing because I like it...but I would very much like to be done with the breast pads, leaking, clogged ducts, and restricted diet.  Also, I sincerely hope they return to a more reasonable size!). 

I mean, in early pregnancy...I just started to get thicker, which for someone who is more concerned with her physical appearance than she probably ought to be, is a little frustrating.  But I knew it was for a good cause so I tried to embrace it.  It just made me feel a bit uncomfortable though.  Not physically uncomfortable; mentally uncomfortable.  Then, by the end I was physically uncomfortable.  And tired of being so unwieldy.  And not being able to lift things.  And annoyed by how out of breath just climbing stairs would make me (I was still exercising...it just was the extra blood and whatnot according to the doc).

So, while I'm very glad to have experienced it...I'm glad it's also not a permanent condition.  :)

Do you really though?

I've been looking up recipes to make yummy goods with some fresh pumpkin I got from a friend.  I just find it so amusing to read the comments at the bottom that start with "I love this recipe" and finish with all the changes they made (applesauce instead of oil, orange juice instead of water, added nutmeg, changed the walnuts to pecans, etc., etc., etc.).  Which recipe do they really love then?  Because after making all of those changes I'm not at all convinced their end result is the same as the base recipe.  And these comments are ubiquitous! Maybe I'm missing something...

Would You?

Since little Wiggles is on the extra fussy side I've been put on a super restricted diet.  I've been able to slowly start adding things back in to see how he takes it...but, once again, it's impossible to control all variables and be sure that it's my diet that caused the change.  For instance, I tried a bit of dairy this week...and he seemed fine the first day.  The second day.  Also fine.  I didn't eat any on the third day, but he was fussy that day.  Was it because of the 2 days of dairy?  Or was it because he got over tired from having his naps interrupted by noisy maintenance occurring during all of his naptimes?

At any rate, because of the restricted diet we haven't been buying as much milk.  Just haven't needed it.  But I went to make some tea this morning and thought...just a little, iddy, biddy splash would be okay.  Only to find that we were out.  Guess Mr. Random used the last of it yesterday...what I did see in the fridge though was a small bottle of breastmilk I had pumped the previous night.  And I'd be lying if I didn't admit my next thought was hmmmmm.....

Would you use breastmilk if you found you were out of cow's milk?  I couldn't decide if that was totally wrong or not...but thought also that the advantage would be that it shouldn't upset the little guy's tummy!  haha!  In the end I felt like it was too much like drinking one's own pee...I mean, you'd do it if you had to, but otherwise not.  And the tea doesn't have to have that little splash of milk.

Halfway

It's November already.  Where does the time go?  November means Thanksgiving of course, but it also means I'm halfway through my maternity leave.  I'm so grateful that I got to take the whole semester (even though it's been frustrating financially) so I don't want to complain too loudly.  But I do feel a little sad at the thought of leaving Wiggles in daycare.  And I'm sure the next 2 months will go by just as fast or faster than the last two.

Wiggles still isn't sleeping through the night exactly.  It depends on your definition.  Mostly, yes, he does sleep a minimum 5 hour stretch (though not last night).  And then after the long stretch sleeps for 2 more 2 hour naps before being ready for the day.  Which is pretty great.  Except for the timing.  We're still working on those daytime naps...and while those are all up in the air, when he goes down for the long stretch varies quite a bit...and often starts at 6pm.  Now...I'm just plain not ready to go to bed at 6pm.  For one thing, Mr. Random often isn't home until 7pm, and I would like to see him at least a tiny bit.  For another, I usually haven't had dinner yet.  So...while Wiggles is getting almost enough sleep for his age category...I surely am not.  But, baby steps...we're making progress!  And I hear many people throwing 3-4 months around as a magical age when things start to get a lot more regular.  *fingers crossed!*

Spitfire and Fury

Last night I had the opportunity to observe a friend's baby.  This baby was born right around the same time as Wiggles, but has a completely different temperament ("he only cries when he needs a diaper change!" and folks...by cry, they mean whimpers).  After observing this very mellow baby I came to the conclusion that my little Wiggler was born full of Spitfire and Fury.  And, while this has meant a lot of frustration and worry for the first 2 months, and we could all definitely use more sleep...I think I've come to love him all the more for it.

Blessed Sleep

Wiggles has started sleeping with some regularity.  Halllllelujah!  :)

He's slept at least 5 hours each night since the last post...though one of the nights I guess he woke up twice in the 5 hour stretch.  I wouldn't know because it was Friday night and Mr. Random so very kindly took the boy and let me just sleep.  I've been getting headaches and now have a sore throat...so sleep seems ever so important now.  I do NOT want to get sick!

He's still taking his midday nap pretty regularly, but the intermediate naps that would get him to the awake for 2 hours then sleep schedule are still sporadic at best.

Now, the thing about babies that has frustrated the scientist in me the most is that they grow and change so fast it's impossible to account for all the variables!  I mean...Wiggles is sleeping so much better.  Is it because I'm sticking to my super restricted diet?  Is it because we're letting him actually cry for more time during the day instead of instantly soothing him all the time?  Is it because his medicine for The Reflux is working better/he's actually taking his full dose more of the time?  Or is it because he grew, and whatever he needed to work out in his little body/brain has been worked out so he can sleep better at night?  There's kind of no way to know...

Though...I did have pizza for dinner on Saturday.  Just cheese, so that the toppings couldn't be an issue.  And it was soooooo good.  Did it effect little Wiggles?  Well...that's what's so hard to say!  I didn't notice an immediate response...today he seems to be having more trouble pooping after doing so well with it all weekend...could that be from the dairy?  Or is it totally unrelated?  I don't think we can say for sure.  And that, my friends, is very frustrating.  He's just a little mystery, which, as frustrating as it is, can also be quite interesting.

And he's starting to really coo and "talk" and look at us and smile.  Which makes all the fussing and crying and sleep deprivation seem worth it.  He really did push me to my breaking point...but hopefully we're just going to keep slowly improving from here.

Ugh.  One thing I HATE about living in an apartment:  Wiggles WAS down for a nap, but someone just SLAMMED their door quite loudly, it shook the apartment...and guess who's awake?  Dammit people!

Exhaustion

I now appear to have developed insomnia.  I am so tired, and yet find it difficult if not impossible to sleep.  Oh the bitter, bitter irony.

Last night little Wiggles slept for 8. hours. straight!  Amazing!! (I, however, woke up 3 times during that 8 hours) He cried a lot more during the day, and I've noticed the days he cries more (usually when Daddy's in charge...he let's him cry more) he sleeps better at night.  My mom suggests he just needs "the exercise".  I have a really hard time listening to him cry though...

We went for a walk today.  We were attempting to go to Target to refill his prescription for Zantac...it's a roughly 2 mile walk 1-way.  We didn't make it.  I was just too tired.  So I turned around.  Then, when we were one street away from our street, I saw a lady in a power scooter "walking" to two dogs turn the corner right ahead of us.  She was taking up the whole sidewalk between her and these dogs and going quite slowly.  Wiggles had fallen asleep so I thought I'd take a short detour around by taking the earlier street and then cutting up to our street.  I missed the turn.  And was basically sleep walking for part of it (and I'm fit enough to care for a baby!?) and it turns out this street loops back around to where we'd turned around in the first place.  When I finally realized I was hot, sweaty, and super tired.  And Wiggles had woken up and also was hot, sweaty, and hungry.  So it was a bit of a misadventure but we both lived through it.  I thought the exercise would help me sleep during his midday nap (pretty much the only one he takes) but...once again, he slept better than I did.  I managed 1.5 hours to his 3.5.  Which is a pretty long nap.

Which is the next thing I'm wondering about.  I've been reading some books and getting lots of advice on helping baby's sleep, and a lot of it centers around "scheduling".  I'm a fan of a schedule, so I like the idea of working Wiggles into one.  Now, the book I've liked most suggests 3 naps during the day for a baby of his age, and then 8 to 10 hours of sleep at night (fingers crossed!).  I haven't finished the book, but I can't work out just when these naps should occur.  Wiggles' natural schedule goes something like this:

Wake up for the day around 7am, give or take an hour.  Then, he's pretty much up until noon, give or take an hour.  I might rock him into a 30 minute nap before the midday power nap, but might not.  He hasn't ever taken a longer nap in those hours.  Around noon, he usually will take a 1 to 3 hour nap and then he's up again until...well, it gets quite variable.  He sometimes will sleep around 5ish...sometimes not.  He might go to bed around 8:30...or we might not get him down until 11pm.  There hasn't been much consistency in the evening yet.  I finally decided I had to accept that he wants to get up at 7 and stay awake until his midday nap, and then awake again until...who knows?  But then I worry the little guy isn't getting ENOUGH sleep and that's compounding everything else that makes him so fussy.  Sigh.  The joys of motherhood I suppose.  :)

Well, while we were walking I composed a much more coherent and interesting blog post in my head...but can't remember it now for the life of me.  I suppose I ought not to blog when so tired, but Mr. Random has Wiggles for the moment and I thought I'd seize the opportunity before going to bed.  Hoping to beat the insomnia before it really takes hold!

Enough Complaining!

Well, I'm tired of feeling like all I do is complain about how *difficult* my baby is.  Wiggles presents challenges...but what baby doesn't?  No...he doesn't sleep a lot.  Yes...he cries a ton.  Yes...he needs help pooping, passing gas and burping.  But...it's pretty standard fare, right?  He is a little baby.

Sigh.

It would sure help if my friends who have babies the same age had similar challenges with their babies though.  :)

Rough Day...Week...Month...Life

I'm just going to go ahead and say it, being a new mom has been rough.  I love Wiggles and we have some great moments together.  His little smile always melts my heart.  But his cry has frayed my nerves.  And I'm so sleep deprived I can't even tell that I'm tired any more.  Well...one of the night time feedings when I notice that I'm literally twitching trying to stay upright...then I think I might be tired.  But the rest of the time I guess it's just my new "normal".  And I'm too tired to know better than to write this all out...so...strap in.

I feel like I shouldn't be so tired.  I feel like I shouldn't be so frustrated.  I feel like a failure.

But here are the facts: Wiggles has reflux.  That complicates life.  Think about this: Upon waking, I check his diaper - 5 minutes, I re-swaddle him - 2 minutes, and then I feed him, now only on one side to slow down his consumption and help with the reflux.  This mean he eats for about 40 minutes.  Fine.  After eating, we burp ever so gently, but get that burp out lady!, and then I need to hold him upright for 30 minutes.  The little guy has now been awake for just over an hour.  And quite often, he's tired by that time.  If we're lucky, we might get about 20 minutes of play time.  But very quickly he becomes overtired.

And we often have mornings like this morning.  We woke up at 7:30am.  After his last 1.5 hour "nap" of the "night".  We did the routine I outlined above.  And he was awake after the 30 minutes, and happy, though yawning.  I should have paid attention to the yawning, and just put him back down.  But he was being really cute, and I really, really, really wanted to get a picture of him in a cute outfit he got from Grandma that he's almost outgrown but never worn because I want to get the picture, dang it!  So, we did that.  Just 10 minutes of fun...but it was 10 minutes too long.  Because we spent the next 2.5 hours crying.  Yes we.  He was crying.  I was crying.  He just would not soothe, despite my best efforts.  And he just got more tired.  And finally hungry again.  And more wet diapers.  And then he'd almost be asleep, but wake himself up straining to poop.  Or fart.  He hasn't pooped in awhile actually.

So not only does Wiggles have reflux.  But he's had a lot of trouble getting food out the other end too (ie poop) AND he has colic.  The definition is apparently if one spends at least 3 hours/day soothing to prevent crying, 3 days a week, for 3 weeks or longer.  I laughed when I read that.  At least 3 hours/day?  If we have ONLY 3 hours/day of soothing to prevent crying...it's a GOOD day.  At least 3 days a week?  Haha, try 7 days a week sir.  And it's been since his first week of life basically.  So roughly 6 weeks here.  No wonder I'm tired.

And I'm just so frustrated.  Everything I've read.  Everything I can find out.  Everything the doctors tell me, say that I'm doing everything I can.  I'm doing right.  My mom, who's flown out twice now to help out, also said she thinks I'm doing really well.  I needed to hear that.  It helps a little.  But it still feels so frustrating.  If I'm doing all that I can...why does he still cry so much?  Why can't he just sleep?

And it does NOT help that I have friends who had babies right around the same time.  "Good" babies (though I hate that terminology for this sense) that actually sleep.  Babies they had to wake up to feed.  Good grief I wonder what it'd be like to have a baby that sleeps!  Regularly!  For more than 20 minutes at a shot.  Who sleeps enough that I could shower regularly.  Or at least pee in the morning and afternoon so I don't wind up holding it for 4 hours past the time I had to "go".  Or so that I can poop in peace without feeling like I've abandoned the screaming child...

And then.  I get angry.  And judgmental.  I mean, these other moms had C-sections!  C-SECTIONS.  Could we get any more intervention than that?  Wiggles was born DRUG FREE!  And yet...he's the baby with so much trouble.  And their babies just snooze away?  It seems so unfair.

And then...I feel guilty.  About...everything.  I mean, he's fussy, but he's here.  He's alive.  He's adorable.  He's ours.  Not everyone gets to experience parenthood.  And I feel guilty for feeling like life is unfair.  I feel guilty for judging my friends.  I feel guilty for wishing Wiggles was something other than what he is.  I feel guilty for wanting him to sleep so that I can...I don't know...blog something.   Or scrapbook.  Or work on an abstract that's due in a week.  I feel guilty that I'm not enjoying being the stay-at-home mom more.  Mr. Random would love to have this gig...

Which, by the way, he's still Super-Dad.  It's just that he's working full time, and extra Saturdays (not his choice) so...it's just me and Wiggles a lot of the time.  Plus I'm still breast-feeding and it's hard to find time to pump with such a needy baby...so yeah.

And that's all I have time for.  But I wanted to get this out...and I feel marginally better.

Reflux

The little baby shall be known as: Wiggles.

Poor little Wiggles.  He's had a rough 1st month of life.  He started out as a super alert baby, literally from birth.  The L & D nurse commented with surprise that his eyes were already open.  I didn't know any better.  As he's my first baby, whatever he does seems "normal" to me.

I planned to breastfeed and have been very lucky that Wiggles has a great natural latch.  He's really taken to it without much trouble.  My plan was to feed on demand for the first 2 weeks at least to establish supply.  That's what was recommended in my childbirth class and it made sense to me.  We did this.  Wiggles gained over a pound in his first week home from the hospital!  The pediatrician just said "good job Mom!". 

Soon after that his little belly started to be obviously very large.  More than "normal" it seemed.  and it was a bit firm.  But since he was gaining weight, continuing to eat, and still pooping...the doctors didn't think too much of it.  Just to keep an eye on it.  There was one 24 hour period in which he didn't poop...which we ended with the skillful application of a vaseline covered q-tip.  That was messy.

Meanwhile, he was getting more and more fussy, and less and less sleep.  We'd get up in the 7-9 am window, and he'd not go back to sleep until the 1-3pm window.  Sometimes awake for 7 hours straight.  That's not normal for such a little baby.  During this time he'd cry inconsolably, root like he was hungry every hour on the hour, but not latch well and fuss at the breast, and was just generally unhappy. 

He also spit up quite a bit, and got hiccups quite regularly.  He also has a funny little cough.

Finally, at his 1 month appointment, the doctor thought he might be having reflux.  And that the stomach acid was inflaming his esophagus.  So, now the little guy is on Zantac.  He seems to be doing better, though we have a hard time getting him to swallow the medicine.  He doesn't seem to like peppermint much.

The first 2 days on the medicine he would eat, and go right back to sleep.  The interesting thing is that he started eating less but more frequently on his own.  That had been the recommendation from the doctor, but he just started "demanding" every 2 hours, but being done after eating on one side.  Which means he's basically eating half what he was before.  I mean, it's hard to say how much he's getting since it's from the breast, but he's at the breast half as much.  And wonder of wonders, it looks like his over-large belly is coming down in size.  It was definitely less firm this morning.

So, now I think he may have been "over-eating" to try to soothe from the reflux...which actually made matters worse and distended his belly.  I guess we'll see as time goes.

Meanwhile, I've been eating a restricted diet for just over a week.  No dairy, chocolate, caffeine, leafy greens including broccoli, or spicy Mexican or Italian.  It pretty much sucks.  I'm a picky enough eater to begin with...adding these restrictions just makes it frustrating to work out meals.  And boy do I miss chocolate, ice cream and pizza!  I think the idea is to keep up the restrictions until it's been 2 weeks, then start slowly re-introducing things and seeing how he takes it.

The Written Word

Well after some of the comments on my last post I was ready to give up writing.  At least when in a state of supreme exhaustion. I thought I must have completely missed the mark and had somehow conveyed a message I never intended.  Fortunately, or unfortunately if you were hoping I'd give up writing, some of the other commenters have restored my inspiration. 

Colby was right on the mark.  I wasn't hoping for a Nobel Peace Prize.  To have drugs or not during birth is definitely an extremely personal decision.  I made the choice that was right for me, and it wound up being no drugs.  That I successfully navigated what is often considered one of the more painful experiences of human existence without the aid of drugs, seems like something I can be proud of, without alienating or offending others.  If you don't think so...well, I think that's your issue, not mine.  And truthfully, my sister didn't even make me feel that grumpy.  I thought the whole situation was highly ironic, and in my mind, irony usually equals funny.  Which is why I decided to type up and submit the story.

And Danielle had a good point too; this sister has not had a child, and it's very likely she thought it was like on tv, where once the baby is delivered you spring back to "normal".  I hadn't even considered that, so thanks for the insight.  :)

Things that make me grumpy

There are many things that make me grumpy, but one in particular quite pertinent to this time in my life.  You see, I just had a baby 3 weeks ago.  I gave birth to this baby completely drug free, despite the hospital setting.  That's right...no pain killers.  Not even an ibuprofen.  (what's up!)  I think it's fair to say I'm proud of this accomplishment...though immediately afterward I thought it may have been the dumbest thing I'd ever done.  At any rate, the birth was painful, the recovery, also painful.  Most people would expect as much.

Not, apparently, my sister.  2 weeks after giving birth my family came to visit and meet the baby.  Which was great.  But the first day they were here, as I was quietly breastfeeding the little one, my sister comes back to the room I'm in.  Sits down ever so tenderly on the bed.  Looks at me with a grimace and tells me with a slight groan...she has cramps.

Seriously?  No, SERIOUSLY?

Yup, she has menstrual cramps and is expecting pity.  Sympathy.  Concern.  And an ibuprofen.  Could I get her one?

She wants all this from a women who just 2 weeks ago gave birth without any drugs.  I found it rather difficult to be sympathetic and instead just felt rather grumpy.  But I did get her an ibuprofen.

Mr. Random is Awesome

I can't go on enough about how great Mr. Random has been so far.  I mean, he was an awesome husband before, but starting with labor, he just really stepped up in every single way.  I really feel lucky to have such a loving and capable husband.

He helped me through labor without drugs by being encouraging and massaging pressure points.  I responded in kind by not crushing his hand, not yelling at him (not even once), and even refraining from swearing during the miraculous event.

Then, while in the hospital, he changed every diaper.  This from a guy who has very limited experience with babies!  He also quickly became the expert in swaddling and still swaddles the little guy way better than I do.  He's also able to calm him down when I can't.  In short...awesome husband, and awesome dad.  Lucky me.

Catching Up a Bit

Taking care of a newborn sure is keeping me busy!  And exhausted.  He's been a champion nurser - started right in the recovery room and has an awesome latch so I've been lucky there.  The only trouble is, he must nurse all. the. time.  :)  I guess that's not trouble exactly...it just makes it hard to find sleep.  I've had several friends offer to come over to watch him for the afternoon so I can sleep.  Um...thanks?  but...that's not the issue.  The issue is his constant, frequent need for my boobies.

We had 3 rough nights in a row, but last night was remarkably better.  The first 2 rough nights I think were due to a growth spurt.  The 3rd, and worst, night was due to a dip in supply probably, but I didn't realize it at the time.  He was just asking for the boobies all. night. long.  It started when we tried to go to bed...he nursed on one, switched to the other...still wasn't asleep, still was hungry.  Back and forth I went for 2 hours.  Still hungry and crying if put down.  I couldn't believe it.  I was at the point of tears with exhaustion when Mr. Random, who is back to work - poor guy - took him for 2 hours so I could sleep.  He tried everything but Baby Random was just hungry!

We had a pedi appt the next day for a weight check, and she's the one that clued me in to it likely being a dip in supply.  Turns out...lack of sleep, not enough food or water...and nighttime all contribute to a dip in supply. I'd say that night was a perfect storm.  Poor little guy, he really was hungry!

I took him for a short walk this morning, as the temp was in the 70's!  It's just been too hot since he was born to take him outside for any length of time.  I can't wait until the weather really cools down.

I have a good reason

For not posting this past week.  He's a little baby boy.  :)

Let it go

I know I shouldn't let it bother me, but it still irks me.  Having to explain that, yes, in fact, I make money by going to school for my PhD.  YES.  THEY, pay ME.

This is a revelation for...well, nearly everyone it seems.  I've been in grad school for 3 years now.  I think my in-laws are just finally starting to believe that I, actually *gasp* contribute to my household income, and in fact, have not been draining my poor, over-worked husband for my educational whims all this time.  Stunning.

Yes, that's right folks.  If you haven't heard of this before, let me lay it out for you.  I got a master's degree.  In Geology.  It cost me exactly: $0.  IN FACT, they paid me $14k per year, paid for my tuition, AND paid my health insurance during that time.  No, I did not make bank.  Yes, it's a pittance.  But it helps.  AND, I'm not paying for my education.

My PhD is a similar arrangement, but now I think I make close to...wait for it...$15k per year, still tuition and health paid by the department.  Well, until this semester that is.  As I'm on a kind of, forced semester-long maternity leave.  But! when I'm a full-time student...I get paid to go to school.  I know.  Take a moment.  Let it sink in.  Process that.

We good?

Random Ramblings

I missed posting yesterday.  There was something I kept thinking of that I wanted to write about...but by the time I'd sit down to write it, the thought was gone.  At which point I'd get up and do something else, planning to return to write it out when the thought came back.  It came back...and left, several times.  And in the end, I have no idea what that fleeting thought was.  So no post.  And here we are.

On the baby name front, it seems safe to say that Isabelle is out if it's a girl.  Which makes me sad, but...there are FAR too many Isabella's, I'm over the whole Twilight "thing" and hate the association, AND, a co-worker of Mr. Random's who just annoys the hell out of him (nice enough guy, just happens to have every odd quirk that pushes every one of Mr. Random's buttons) is having a girl in October (well, presumably his wife is doing the having) and they've pretty much settled on the name Isabella.  Mr. Random hadn't liked the popularity of the name before, but this really finished it off for him.  So there were are.

I've also pretty much ruled out Aiden.  It just doesn't seem right anymore, and - again - the popularity thing.

We have lists with 3 boys names and 3 girls names at this point, and are pretty settled on the middle names for each.  I think we'll go with those and hope one of the 6 seems "right" upon staring at the little one's scrunched face.  If not...well, the hospital has WiFi.  :)

We watched Where the Wild Things Are the other night.  Well, that's inaccurate.  We started to watch that movie.  And quickly, both of us were looking at each other in horror.  And then boredom.  It really just didn't do it for us.  And, quite frankly, convinced us that children are rather frightening creatures after all and that we'd prefer not to have any.  Quite a predicament I find myself in considering that recent conclusion.  (I am kidding...mostly)

Seriously though, the boy in the movie seems to have some major issues.  Especially issues of loneliness.  I think I was a lonely child from time to time, but my gosh.  MY GOSH.  It really did freak us out.  But our kid will be all rainbows and butterflies, right?  (now I'm completely kidding)

The weather has taken a turn for pleasant.  We've had rain showers and cooler temperatures.  I'm hoping the change is permanent and signaling "fall" (as if Phoenix actually has seasons beyond "warm" and "hot, hot, hot!") but we'll see.  The end of the 10 day forecast shows temps climbing back up into the triple digits. 

I had lunch with Advisor the other day too.  She wanted to see me once more before Baby was born.  Lunch was yummy, and it was a mostly fun chat.  It involved a lot of unsolicited advice from her about everything from labor to breastfeeding to child rearing - which for the most part I agreed with, had already heard, or appreciated, so that was good.  We talked work a little bit - I still have mixed feelings about how to spend my time for the next 5 or so months.  You see, I'm funding myself, thanks in large part to her, and based on that, feel that I can do whatever the hell I want.  If that means I'm focused 100% on the baby and do nothing towards the PhD, well I think that's my right.  It's probably also stupid.  She has some ideas for how to spend my time and assures me that after the first few weeks I'll want the intellectual activity.  I suspect she's right...but I don't like it.  (I'm a bit ornery)  I'm planning on attending a conference in the spring that I need to submit an abstract for...I believe the deadline's in October or thereabouts, so that'll be something "intellectual" for me to do.  (as in, dust off the abstract I worked on over the summer and get that in)  Beyond that...it'd be smart to keep up on the literature...and probably to play with some internet programming options.  But I don't think I'll make solid goals/plans yet.  We'll see how I handle the baby-rearing part first.  I had had dreams (last spring) of taking my master's thesis and turning it into a publishable paper during this time.  Sounds lofty at this point...but would probably be worthwhile.  And it'd be a nice FU to the fine folk who assured me I'd be "worthless" and should take the semester off (yes, this includes Advisor who now has all these ideas for how I should spend my time and suggests I'll want the intellectual stimulation - which one is it lady?).

Bank Owned

Just got off the phone with the bank - as of yesterday, our home is now "bank owned".  I'm sad and glad all at the same time.

The saddest part, perhaps, is that it went to auction yesterday...but there was no offer.  Hah!  And people wonder why we couldn't "just short sale" it.  If no one will even offer at auction...why would they possibly go thru the paperwork and rigmarole of a short sale?  Sad.  We love/d that house.

Now to cancel the electricity and water...and let the HOA know we will no longer be required to pay their &^%$ fees.  Hallelujah!

Night and Day

This happened last night, and 2 or 3 nights ago - where I'm getting up every 1 to 2 hours to pee (well, that's every night) and throughout the night the pressure on my cervix seems to be building.  It gets stronger every time I get up, and it gets harder and harder to get up, and walk across the room to the bathroom.

Last night it culminated about 4am when there was so much pressure on my cervix and, ahem, anus, that I really could barely walk.  It was ridiculous.  And as this pressure builds I find myself going....okay....?  Does this mean labor is...starting?  I mean, there's no contraction!  Well, I'm having some, but still only feel them in shortness of breath...and it's not like they're regular in any way.  So I go back to bed convinced the next time I wake up, I'll be waking Mr. Random and this is gonna be it.  But...so far...it hasn't been.

And then, this morning, just like the other night with intense pressure (2 nights ago I think?), I get up around the 6-8am time window, hungry...and...with some pressure, but NOTHING like during the night.  It's like a calm after a storm or something.  And I start wondering if that other stuff was all in my head.

Quite frankly, I find the whole thing confusing.  But for now I'll just keep on keeping on...until real contractions show up to warn me that something really is happening...or I feel a baby's head dangling out.  :)

Still ticking

Like a bomb waiting to go off.  :)

We went swimming last night - the feeling of the baby being supported by the water was totally amazing.  I've swam a few times in the past several months, but the difference was never as dramatic as last night!  It made getting out of the pool somewhat unpleasant.

Today, let's talk about my cats.  I love them.  But they ARE annoying.  Good training for kids, I'm sure, but jeeze!  You see, these little ones have a problem with food.  Well, actually, the brother has a problem with food...the sister would probably be okay if we left food out all the time.  But brother...eats compulsively until it is ALL. GONE.  To the point he'll make himself sick.  Poor buddy.

So anyway, 3 years ago now, when we took them to the vet for their annual we were told they were too fat...borderline obese even.  And we started restricting their food.  They get fed twice a day - morning and night.  And we measure how much they get.  And the gobble it up in 30 seconds or less.  Morning and night.

And they whine.  For hours before food time.  It is so obnoxious.  On the plus side, their weight is pretty healthy now.

So there's that.

Then there's sister cat.  She's a lap whore.  She loves laps, but especially my lap.  And she's an attention-hog.  She gets very jealous any time brother is getting attention.  This...does not entirely bode well for bringing a little baby into the home, who, will, undoubtedly, get more of our undivided attention than she will.

I've been following the advice I read to start ignoring the cats in the weeks leading up to birth.  She hasn't been able to be in my lap for sometime now (the belly takes that space!), which helps...but she would adjust by sitting behind me, beside me, or on my shoulders if she could manage.  I've been putting a stop to this...but it's just so sad!  The sweet little kitty just wants to cuddle!

Well, that made for a rather boring post...but I'm fresh out of ideas, so there it is.  And now I've documented something about the cats...which is good.  I think.

Jumpy People

It turns out, that when one approaches one's due date...everyone treats you like a bomb ready to go off.  Yeah...I wonder when it will happen too, but, wowza. 

I didn't answer my phone the other day because I was sitting on the floor scrapbooking and it was way too far away for me to make it in time.  I figured I'd just let the person leave a voicemail and call them back the next time I got up to pee...which on average happens every 1.5 to 2 hours...so it would be more than reasonable.

It was my mother that had called.  She did leave a voicemail.  And in it, noted that I hadn't answered the phone and consequently wondered aloud if I might not be having a baby.  Sigh.  No...though I DID tell her that we won't be calling people when we go to the hospital.

That's right...we plan to wait until all the fireworks are over and we'll just let people know when the baby's here.  Selfish?  Maybe.  Our right?  Absolutely. 

Here's the way I'm looking at it.  Option 1 - we call when we leave for the hospital.  And Mr. Random now has to spend the time that I'm in ACTIVE labor and heading to transition fielding phone calls, making sure EVERYONE gets informed so there are no hurt feelings and basically...tending to other people who, quite frankly, AREN'T in labor, requiring his attention.  This would likely make me rather upset.  Then, of course, I imagine several folks wanting regular updates.  Again...I'm maybe being a bit of a diva here, but I'd prefer his attention was focused on...well, me.  :)  I'm usually pretty casual about being the center of his world...but I think, this particular instance is one where it's called for.  Luckily, he agrees. 

Which leads to Option 2.  We call y'all after the baby is born.  Ta da!  At which point, I'm sure it will still be annoying to be interrupted and whatever, but we'll also be excited to share the news.  Wouldn't you rather that?  Us being EXCITED to be on the phone with you?  Instead of stressed/pissed off?  I would.

Now, one of my sisters is apparently a little miffed.  I don't think she even knows that we're going with Option 2.  Then she'll likely be outright offended, but I can't control that.  She's miffed because I told her we weren't taking visitors the day of.  Least of all DURING labor.  She mentioned, ever so casually, on the phone the other day that she was discussing the impending birth with her friend/boyfriend (she's unclear where they're at) and he pointed out, that, you know...she's only 6 hours away.  She could take off when she "gets the call" and be there in time for the birth!  She left that hanging...and I shot it down straight away. 

Here's how I'd see it going if she did come.  She'd waltz in, probably about when I'm in transition or crowning...basically, when I LEAST want to be distracted or surprised.  And I'd probably scream something obscene at her.  And she'd back out of the room, tears springing to her eyes, and would be offended.  And hurt.  And I would have zero sympathy.  I know her...that's how it would go down.

So, No, I said, No.  You're welcome to come the next day, but Mr. Random and I talked about it and we're not taking visitors the first day.  We want that day to try to soak it all in and just be ourselves with the baby.  She was clearly offended and quickly ended the call after that.  And apparently complained to our mother - who... fortunately...sees my side of things.

I know, we're selfish bastards.  Whatever.  When she pushes a little human out her "chute of love" she can call the shots however she likes.  As I'm doing the pushing with this little human...I'm calling the shots.  And the last thing I want is her waltzing in as the baby crowns.  Yet another beautiful reason to go with Option 2.

Rear View

Apparently, I STILL don't look pregnant from behind. (I finally had Mr. Random take a picture from behind so I could see...and...yeah, alright. I don't look pregnant at all. Amazing!) This can make for amusing encounters in public.

For instance...

We were shopping at Best Buy - we knew exactly what we wanted and had other things to do so it was supposed to be an in-and-out trip. The Direct TV sales lady, however; caught sight of us and was right on our tail. She was walking behind us, and I was closest to her when she said "did you hear what we're doing to people today?" I've got to give her props - it piqued my curiosity. "doing to people?". I hesitated and turned around to get a better look. That's when she saw the belly and, I kid you not, jumped a little and said "whoa!". Then, to cover, hastily asked when I was due.

She wanted to save us $200-300/mo on our cable bill. Seriously? Who spends that much on cable? If you do...well, that's your call, but my goodness. We don't have cable. Which I always tell these Direct TV sales people and I know they think I'm lying but we don't. We get the free channels of course, but barely watch them at all. We've got the $8.99/mo plan with Netflix, which we'll be canceling next month as we're cutting back due to my distinct lack of income currently. And that's it.

I mean...if you want to GIVE me $200-300/mo so that I can "save" that much by going with Direct TV, by all means. But otherwise...there's no way you're going to save me money. And besides...I have about a thousand better things to do than get hooked on cable TV shows again. I've been there, done that, and am happy to have broken free.

Now if only I could break my addiction to sweet, sugary drinks. Like lemonade. And juice. And root beer. Ah, root beer...you hold the key to my heart.

Dinner out

Mr. Random and I enjoyed what will probably be our last pre-baby dinner out.

We went to Fuddrucker's, and splurged an entire $1.50 to upgrade one drink to a shake (really, we wouldn't have normally - not due to cost but more the healthyfulness of such a choice). We enjoyed our food while watching a pre-season football game conveniently on a big screen across from our table. We chatted...mostly about the game. Nothing important.

It was a lot of fun. And an excellent "last hurrah". :)

Unprepared

When we made the decision to short sale our house we knew it came with the likely possibility it would actually end in foreclosure. We're coming up on that - though the bank has delayed auction twice already. We're just ready to be done with it. Especially since we're still paying electricity, water and HOA fees until it's no longer "ours".

We check on the house every so often. Most recently to discover someone had stolen our grill from the backyard (we hadn't decided what to do with it yet as they're illegal in apartment complexes for fear of fire) and the " No Soliciting" sign from our front door.

I went back to check on it today - to notice a plant had been removed from the front yard, and the remaining plants were looking awfully dry. Pretty sure one has died actually. When I checked the water control (side of the house) it had been changed from the settings I left it at. Who would do that? And why?

Mr. Random's been worried someone's going to break in - and trash the place. Which would really suck because we left it in decent condition. And left all the appliances. And fixtures. And real wood blinds (yeah...I was tricked into that, but whatever). Ugh.

When we made the decision to do this, I was prepared for the damage to our credit. The frustration of moving from a house back into an apartment. I was unprepared for the heartache I would feel walking through our abandoned house...checking to make sure it hadn't been pillaged. We really love/loved that house. I got to pick out all the interiors...and painted most of the rooms. It's just heartbreaking to walk through it now...and see it empty and forlorn. I really hope it sells at its next auction date (this upcoming week) and some family gets it...and can enjoy it as much as we did.

3 posts yesterday...

Does that mean I'm off the hook for today? Maybe...but I think I'll try to keep up the good habit of daily blogging just in case.

I have so many blog topics swirling in my head when I'm away from the computer...but when I sit down to the composer page...they suddenly vanish. What is that?

Let's talk about my current PhD-related activities. I have few. I did recently work up a powerpoint presentation to share with a new student who will be working on the project in my absence this semester, and one of my committee members who will be doing a presentation at a meeting at the end of September, that were I not to have recently expelled a small human, I would have been going to and doing the presentation. Basically, it was to sum up my last/latest efforts on the project, what I was thinking and where I was planning to go next. I already sent it off to Advisor and she said it looked good and was informative. Excellent, that was the goal. The funny part is that I spent a good 8 slides using the wrong word for one of my major topic points. They both started with a "p" but the meaning was quite different. Go, go baby brain! At least I caught it before I sent it off.

And I'm not sure it's "baby brain" so much as tired-brain. Sleep is such a precious commodity at this point. I basically am unable to sleep before midnight. No matter what time I lay down. I just lay awake, fidgeting. Which isn't helping Mr. Random's sleep. Then, once finally drifting off...I wake up every 1.5 to 2 hours to pee. Around 4-4:30 am I find myself rather hungry...but still tired...so usually manage to fall back asleep after a little while. Then around 6 something Mr. Random gets up for work...sometimes I'm hungry enough to get up...sometimes I still sleep - at which point I wake up right before 9am. Like clockwork. And then I am definitely hungry. So I get up and start my day!

But let's look at that - how much sleep am I getting here? About 6 hours total...not too bad! And I understand this is good "training" for what's soon to come.

Ah Family

So - as I was warned and am personally noticing - families get a little crazy when a new baby is on the way. Especially when said baby is the first grandbaby for either side. It sure makes life interesting.

For instance....

So, we live here in the southwest. And about 98% of our family (both sides) still reside in the Pacific Northwest. All over, the Pacific Northwest, but pretty much within about 7 hours of each other all around. Now - my family have expressed interest in visiting after Random Jr. is born...and we're good with this. We've asked they wait until after mid-September so that we know we'll get the first week to figure out stuff ourselves, but after that, all family are welcome to visit to meet the baby. So far....just my family are taking us up on this. Others don't have the time/money/it's too hot. That's fine. (well, the first 2...the last one is a bit lame, but alrighty)

So, in light of this, we've been saving every month so that we can afford to fly up for about 10 days around Thanksgiving. Have I mentioned yet that money is going to be very tight these next 5 months? Because it is. I'm not working. (thank you dept.) And, well...it's do-able, but it'll be tight. Yet, we're scrimping and saving so that we can fly up. Honestly, I think this is pretty damn nice of us...to not only spend OUR money, but also to attempt flying with a 2 month old, so that THEY can meet said 2 month old.

And don't get me wrong, everyone's expressing excitement. But...the drama...it's already beginning. Sigh.

Let's introduce the players...I have a large family. They live in one part of the state. Mr. Random has a large collection of extended family and his mother about 3 hours north of this. His father lives about 5 hours away, across mountains. The rest of my extended family about 2 hours further than that, also across the mountains. And...we thought we'd go at Thanksgiving, because Mr. Random gets that Thursday and Friday off, meaning we need fewer vacation days to stay longer.

Now, in discussing ideas for the trip...not plans, we're no where near plans yet, with my mother...I brought up the idea of trying to get both sides of the family in one location for a big bang out Thanksgiving. Plus, it would make it easier on us, so we don't end up driving all across the state, spending 2 days here there and everywhere so everyone can meet Random Junior. I thought this seemed reasonable...I mean, we're spending hard-saved cash to fly up...they only have to drive several hours depending on where we do this - everyone wins!

Well...not quite. Mr. Random's dad doesn't do Thanksgiving...and well, it'd be awkward for his mom and dad to be at the same event anyway. They were fine with each other at our wedding...but, it's just not going to happen. Okay, so we do Thanksgiving with his mom and extendeds, my family and extendeds...then go for a few days to Papa Random's...see our friends that also live in that area. Call it a good trip!

Well...not so fast. See, where would we have this big shindig? My parents house is kind of small, and definitely doesn't have the room for anyone to stay the night...it'll be tight fitting us in with the baby. It seems unfair to me to make all of Mr. Random's family get hotel rooms...when we could do the shindig at his mom's overly large house, that has quite a bit of room for my family to stay, and all his extendeds live nearby, and wouldn't need the room OR a hotel. Makes sense right?

Well, my parents aren't overly keen on the idea. (I think it's because they're homebodies and it puts them out of their comfort zone) Immediately, they start going on about the weather and how it's likely to snow and we won't be able to do our plans. Uh huh. Well...it MAY snow. Sure. But we're supposed to what? Not plan on seeing anyone just in case? Should we come next spring then? And if the alternative is we're driving all around the state to see everyone individually...well how's that help the snow situation?

Then I find out my extendeds INSIST on having Thanksgiving at home. Which is fine, it'd be a 7 hour drive for them.

Meanwhile, we floated the idea past Mr. Random's mom of having a big shindig at her house to see if she was open to it. Not only is she open to it, she now has her heart set on it. So we've got Mama Random's heart set on having nearly everyone to her house for a big Thanksgiving dinner. My parents predicting doom and gloom for driving conditions. My extendeds insisting on not coming...and everyone still "so excited" to see us when we come visit.

Ah yes. Meanwhile, the more we have to drive around to see everyone, the more this trip will cost us - as we'll be putting a lot of gas into a rental car. Sigh.

The kid's not even born yet, but it's already begun.

These dramas are part of the reason Mr. Random likes living 1,000 miles away. And doesn't want to move back too close. And yet, in some ways, if we lived closer (close enough to drive, not fly let's say) it seems like it might be less drama. Plus, then we might be able to break it up and see family in different parts of the state in a few separate trips. Instead of trying to do a grand tour.

Anyway, I am still looking forward to the trip. It'll likely be exhausting and mildly stressful. But I think it'll be fun too.

Also

*WARNING: the following mini post will definitely be TMI. But I think it's funny and have no where else I feel comfortable sharing so much.

May I just say, that pooping at 9 months pregnant is a whole new experience? I mean, after 27 years of fairly regular experience with that particular activity, I assumed I'd more or less been through the range of possibilities.

I was wrong. Pregnancy goes and throws a little surprise in there for ya.

That is all.

Interesting...

So, the day Mr. Random decides he's going for it - the master's program - and that teaching will be the career for him, the very day folks - he gets a call from 2 of his police buddies. The department...is hiring again.

It'll be invitation only. The former hiring guy who Mr. Random was in good contact with...has been re-assigned....so it could be like square one. No idea how many they're hiring...but it probably is not many. And there are likely to be hundreds of applicants.

Have I blogged on here about Mr. Random's attempts with policing? I feel sure I have but can't remember. Let's just say it's his DREAM job. He has a passion for it, and nothing else...which is why he's had a hard time finding another career...or forcing himself to move into another career. He's been applying with departments for 3 years now, and basically, it seems like something keeps happening to prevent him. It feels almost unreal, the things that have happened.

And then there's the timing of this. We're both sitting here asking each other and God, but what does it mean!?! I mean...come. on! The guy has been so torn up about not getting hired. So frustrated. He finally, finally, sits down, thinks long and hard about other options, and the day that he finally puts both feet into another career path...his Dream Job sends out a request for applications? What is that?

I'm torn, personally. I want this for him. I want him to finally be happy - truly happy with a job. I want it all to work out. I just worry it won't. And once again, he's going to get his hopes up, get yanked around...and then trampled into the ground. :( Sigh. And then he'll be left wondering even more what it all means. If anything.

Meanwhile, he's still going to go ahead and apply for the master's program. Based on past events, he doesn't want to put that off for what seems a very slim shot at his dream job. I think that's good.

I did pray about it last night. I've been having personal issues with God and religion (more religion) for the past 6+ months, so it's been awhile since I've done that. I felt compelled to look up the liturgical readings (raised Catholic). So I did that this morning. The end of the Gospel reading for today was this: "many will be invited, few will be chosen." Now this was in reference to the Kingdom of God...but it applies so well to our current situation. It's an invitation only test - many will apply, few will be invited, and fewer still chosen.

Well, we'll find out soon enough. The applications are due on the baby's due date. They'll notify applicants in early September. We'll soon get the joy of experiencing the miracle of childbirth...perhaps we can have 2 miracles in a short span of time?

Back to School

It's Back to School time here in the Valley, but that's not what I actually want to write about. Instead, I want to write about Mr. Random. He's thinking about going back to school. The truth is...he's not happy. He hasn't been happy. And it doesn't look like he'll be happy in his current job, no matter how long he sticks it out. Yeah, the pay is super nice. The benefits great. The company, really, treats him quite well. But...he's not happy.

What will help him to be happy? Hah. The hell if I know. I've been encouraging counseling. He's definitely in a funk, and to be honest, I'm not sure going back to school will be the solution. I think it will help. And if he's happier as a teacher, then gravy. I'm all for it. He'll get summers off, which could be of great benefit for our travel plans...you know...one day...when we have money and figure out how to travel with the little burden baby.

So, yeah, he'd be going back for a master's in education - with certification. So he could be a secondary teacher. The catch? Well, his undergraduate degree was in history...there seems to be small demand for history teachers. So, he'll likely take extra math classes on top of the master's course, to get ready to take certification in both history AND math, as there's more demand for the latter category.

And then...hopefully...get a job as a teacher. How does this fit in with my schooling? What's this mean for us financially? haha! Yeah. As far as fitting in with my schooling, it could work out pretty slick. The program he's looking at starts in January and takes roughly 17 months...so he'd graduate May 2012. I'm looking to graduate May 2013. Which means, he'd get his degree, then could teach for a year...and then we'd move! Where he'd probably have to get re-certified in whatever new state my career wings us to. Which, shouldn't be TOO bad. Then he could teach in the new state...and viola, he has his career by 30. He's starting to worry that he'll be turning 30 in 2 years...and well...still not be in a "career" he wants to stick to.

So, it sounds like a good plan. The financial aspect is a downer - we'd be living on student loans and my piddly stipend for the year and a half he's in school. Which, is definitely not ideal...but...there are worse options. I think.

Really, the big question in my mind - is if he'll be happy doing that as a career. Or if it's just another bandaid to get him through a year or two, and he'll still be miserable, and still not know what to "do with his life".

Back again

Once again, I want to do better. I want to post at least one thing a day. I am stating this here as a visible goal, hoping that will help me accomplish such a thing. At the very least, I need to keep writing in some sort of coherent fashion so that jumping back into the grad school ring after being a stay-at-home-mom isn't as shocking. So here I am.

PLUS, I really had wanted to document my thoughts and feelings during this time of my life. As it's a pretty life-changing time. But alas, I just haven't brought myself to do it.

Well, better late than never?

So my feelings currently?

apprehension. excitement. trepidation. curiosity.

What does each feeling apply to? They all apply to everything! Labor/delivery. Being a mom. Who is this baby? How will we handle this change? Will I really be able to keep the little one happy and healthy? Or should I just hope to keep it alive!?

I wonder if the baby's a boy or a girl. And what will we name him or her!? We've got lists...kind of. We don't have a fore runner. Well, we do. But every time we more or less settle on a "top pick"...I find a reason I might not be able to stomach it! I've already blogged about loving the name Isabelle - I believe - but hating that everyone and her sister are naming their girl Isabella from Twilight. I do NOT want the association with Twilight. (gag me) And I wasn't keen on the popularity - though it turns out, that while Isabella is #1 for 2010 girls...Isabelle is #100. My rule of thumb is anything below 15-20 on the list is fine. So...technically, Isabelle should be fine. Technically.

Then there is the trouble of a boy's name. For a long time I liked Aiden. Also super popular. One of you kindly informed me this came from Sex and the City. That doesn't bother me a whole lot as the show is off the air and I never watched...but it's still REALLY popular. When you take the 3 most common spellings it's the #1 boy's name. Which...clearly doesn't fit the rule of thumb. So, back to the drawing board, I started really liking Camden. I still really like it. Mr. Random does too. And then...we were watching Jumping Jack Flash - Stephen Collins is in that movie. And I was like, oh that's...what's his name, and before Stephen Collins came to mind, Reverend Camden came to mind. You know...from 7th Heaven. Oh Lord have mercy! I never much cared for that show, least of all the dear "reverend" and now, gah! My beautiful boy's name. Is it ruined? I haven't decided. Some googling to see what people think of when they hear the name didn't help much....7th Heaven didn't come up, but a crime-ridden ghetto-tastic town in New Jersey apparently comes to many people's minds. Damn. I still really like the name...

So...the name thing is still up in the air.

Then there's the trepidation surrounding the actual labor and delivery process. Yes, I know millions of women have done this before. My own mother has gone through it five times. But, there's kind of extra pressure...because I'm all determined to go "natural". And, it's more just fear that I won't be able to handle it. And that if I can't, I'm letting Mr. Random, Random Jr. and myself down. Sigh.

I worry about how we'll handle parenting. If it will weaken or strengthen our relationship. Probably both...

And I worry how I'll like being a mom. I mean...this is a forever change here! It's in no way temporary. And I start to feel like I'm too young! I've told Mr. Random...but I'm just a kid! And I do feel that way sometimes. At the same time, I realize that 27 puts me over the national average for first time mom...and, really, age is less important than maturity...and I'm probably more mature than many 27 year olds. Probably. Maybe I'm just too generous in my self-evaluation.

Hodge Podge

I'm sitting at the Honda dealer. My car is getting its oil changed and tires rotated. Yup, we take our cars to the dealer for these things - you know why? They always have coupons going that make them about the same price, but we actually trust them 1000 times more than the "other" places. We've never had a problem here. We have at those "other" places.

Truly, the only problem I have with the dealer is their tv selection that's left on in the waiting room. There's some doctor show that I've caught the last few times I've been in. And I can't. stand. this. show. These so-called "doctors" seem to be rather uneducated, but are passing on their opinions as medical fact! And it's on TV, so I know there are tons of people out there taking their advice instead of actually going to a doctor. Ugh. It's just...well it should be criminal. The last time I was in there was a question about fertility.

Now I'm far from an expert, but I am a good little learner, and feel that after my many hours spent on infertility blogs and googling, I have some idea about the topic. And the advice this show gave simply shocked me. Basically, the person writing in was a woman, 34 years old, and wondering if she should freeze her eggs because she wasn't ready for kids yet, but wanted kids in the future. The advice given: nah....don't worry about it! With medical technology today, you'll be JUST FINE.

Excuse me? IRRESPONSIBLE!

Ugh.

Anyway, that's not what I wanted to post about. I've had lots of different post ideas over the past week or so...just have been keeping to busy to actually sit down and write them out.

For now, I'll end with a funny. To help balance the first part. I recently was on campus to square away maternity leave stuff - which basically meant adding a profile for another student to my computer, and backing up my computer as it won't be "mine" for the fall semester at least and possibly not again after that. (sniff! I Lurve this computer! sigh) I also went over to financial aid to ask a few questions. It was when I was walking back from that building that I encountered a few tour groups of the new freshman and their parents.

And boy - did they stare. You'd think I was walking around a Catholic high school or something! It was like they'd never seen a pregnant woman before! I'm pretty sure some of the moms were looking on in horror.

When I told Mr. Random about it he said I should have shouted "Freshman year was awesome!!!" Then, when I was sure I had everyone's attention, I should have rubbed the baby bump and declared that I "even got my own souvenir". haha!