Announcing Kekoa! (a week later)

He's here!  And he arrived raring to go - if his birth is any indication, this kid is going to be a busy little guy.

My labor was full of surprises and I'm really quite thrilled with how it turned out.  I was braced for a late baby and a long first labor, and amazingly enough neither turned out to be true.  I always swore I would never post anything so personal as a labor story on the internet, but then, I also swore I would never post a belly pic so ... I thought I'd share my story with a little help from Kekoa.  You know, for those who care.  Everyone else can stop reading.

Part One: In Which I Reach the End of My Rope

My mom flew in on a red-eye on Wednesday, June 20th.  She brought some gifts, predicted that the baby would come late because I looked far too comfortable, napped some, and then she took me to my midwives' appointment.  Once again, the midwife expressed concerned about my size (my measurements hadn't changed and I hadn't gained any weight since May) and ordered yet another ultrasound.  She told me that she wanted it done as soon as possible, so I should schedule it for Friday or Monday.

Well, I was getting rather tired of the whole size thing.  It's not like Josh and I are huge people, so a large baby would be strange.  Plus, we had an ultrasound to check growth at 33.5 weeks and everything was fine.  I really didn't want that ultrasound.

That night when we got home, Josh and I took our nightly walk through the neighborhood.  "You know," I said, "until today I was okay with him coming on time or even a little bit late.  But now I really, really need this baby to come tonight."  But of course, I knew chances of him coming early were incredibly slim - it's normal for first-time moms to go late and I wasn't sure whether his size would affect things.  Physically, I felt great.  But as I went to bed that night, I was emotionally drained.  I felt like just lying down and doing this:

Part Two: In Which I am Very Bad at Estimation

That night, I dreamed that I had a contraction and my water broke.  I heard my mom's voice saying, "That's the real thing."  When I woke up, my water hadn't broken, my mom wasn't there, and I was having just another Braxton-Hicks contraction, which had been waking me up for weeks.  Nothing special about it.  It was 12:08.  It felt like this: not painful, just surprising.

I had another BH contraction seven minutes later.  I wanted to be in labor so badly that I was too hyped up to sleep, so I spent the next two hours going to the bathroom incessantly out of pure restlessness and reading every material I had on labor.  Meanwhile, the BH continued.

At 2:00, I started to notice that my back was aching during certain contractions - not enough for me to say that it was painful, but I was vaguely uncomfortable.  By 2:30, I started to think that perhaps they were labor contractions, because I felt like this:

I snuggled up to Josh and told him that he may not be going into work that morning, but I wasn't sure.  He kissed me, timed one contraction to find they were six minutes apart, and then went back to sleep.  An hour later, he came out of bedroom to find me doing the dishes, folding blankets, and packing the hospital bag.  "I'm going to take a shower," I said, "and then maybe we should try timing them for more than just one."  I estimated that they were still about six minutes apart, for about 30 seconds each.  But once in the shower, they started to be more like this:

The midwives' instructions were to call when contractions were five minutes apart for over an hour.  In the first half hour of timing them, they were consistently three minutes apart - half the time I thought they were, and double the length.  At 4:30, I called my mom and told her I thought we might be going to the hospital soon.  At 5:00, I called Paula, the midwife on duty.

"They're 3 minutes apart?  Has your water broken?"
"No."
"And it's been five hours?"
"Yes, since midnight"
"Have you had a contraction while I've been talking to you?"
"Yes."
"Hmmm.  Well, if you lived ten minutes away I would tell you to stay at home and keep me updated on your progress, but since it's 40 minutes...well, it's up to you."

So we stayed at home.  But I started to have a sneaking suspicion that perhaps we should think about leaving soon.  My mood was changing.  Mom came, and while I was in the bathroom I heard her tell Josh that she predicted a 4:00pm birth.  "She's still smiling," she said.  Well, I might be smiling on the outside, but on the inside I felt like this:

And then...transition started.  One hard contraction hit and I found myself crying - not because of the pain, but because I had just realized that I had an hour-long car ride ahead of me.  I had this feeling that my body was nearing the end and we were nowhere near the hospital.

As we left around 7:00, Mom said, "Here, let me take a picture."  Inwardly, I knew that this was a sort of test.  Mom figured that if I was *really* in active labor, then I would be too serious to smile.  But I didn't want an awful  picture to remember labor by, so I gave a half smile (no luck...it still turned out to be an awful picture). Even as my lips curved I knew that Mom and Josh were of the opinion that I had hours ahead of me.

I didn't care - we were going to the hospital NOW.  And if it turned out they were right, then I was definitely going for that epidural.  I could handle the pain for an hour or two, but if you've ever been through transition...well, I think if all of labor was like transition, there would be very few natural births, and most of those would be "didn't-make-it-to-the-hospital-in-time."

Part 3: In Which I am Too Nice for My Own Good

I won't say too much about that hour-long car ride.  Kekoa says it much better:

But for all the discomfort, the car ride went quickly.  That was the thing about my labor the whole way through, actually - it really didn't seem that long.  Time just flew by. We got to the Birthing Inn, and I told the receptionist I was checking in.

"Has your water broken?"
"No."
"Okay, have a seat."

Inwardly, I was thinking, "Have a seat???  You want me to have a seat???"  She disappeared for what seemed like forever.  FINALLY she came and took me to Triage to be checked.  I told my mom that I would send Josh back for her once we got settled in a room.

We got to Triage.

"Has your water broken?"
"No"
"Okay, have a seat and we'll see if someone's available to check you."

Are you serious??  Do you WANT me to have the baby in the hallway???  But I took a seat and fortunately, the wait wasn't too long.

Paula called to let me know she was going off call and wouldn't be available by cell phone.  "How are you doing?" she asked.  "I'm doing fine," I said.  Which was true - I was at the hospital, and that's really all I cared about at this point.  "You sound fine," she said.  "Courtney's on call now, so after you've been checked the hospital will call her.  Good luck!"

"Thank you very much," I said.

The Triage nurse - her name was Natalie, Josh tells me - finally got around to checking me.  She instantly pulled out her phone.  "Call Courtney at the midwives now.  I've got her patient here and she's an 8."  She turned to me.  "Can you walk?  We need to get you to L&D.  Let me know if you need to push."

The Birthing Inn has beautiful labor rooms, with tubs and squat bars and lots of space.  We had brought an exercise ball and a back massager and my favorite peaceful music for the labor process.  I didn't get a chance to use any of it.  They starting shoving paperwork in my face (I am ashamed to say I didn't even read half the papers that I signed).  My memory of this time is a little surreal and slightly disembodied.

 Natalie asked me how my pain was on a scale from 1 - 10, and quite irrationally, the XKCD comic from my last post popped into my head.  *sigh* Another test, I thought.  I decided when I read about William Tyndale that burning alive would be the most painful way to die.  And although childbirth hurts, let's not be melodramatic.  If I say something middle-of-the-road, she won't take me seriously.  But this is not like being burned alive. "Um, I guess a seven?"  She nodded and continued monitoring my contractions.

Only Natalie and Josh were in the room when I said I needed to push.  She put in a call to upstairs: "I need you on standby.  We have a patient of the midwives down here needing to push and I don't know if Courtney will make it in time."  The next contraction hit, and she hit the callback button.  "On second thought, we need you here now."

She told me not to push.  Which is like telling a person, "Here, stand in the middle of these train tracks and when the train comes, stop it."  I tried, I really did, for her sake.  But my body and I generally try to work together.

Dr. H arrived, but because I wasn't her patient, they continued telling me not to push.  Whatever.  And then everything happened at once.  Courtney rushed in the door, and about two minutes later my membranes ruptured and there was meconium in the fluid.  Then they were rushing to get peds in the room in case the meconium was in his lungs, and there was a sudden flurry of people, and then Courtney finally, finally looked at me and said, "Your body knows what to do.  Just go with it."

And two contractions later, he was born.  It was 8:41 - less than an hour after arriving at the hospital, less than forty minutes after Courtney was called in, and just 15-20 minutes after she reached L&D.  I've never been so happy to see someone in my life.

The flurry of people all started chattering.  Natalie was apologizing to Courtney: "I really didn't think she would be an eight so I was just taking my time!"   One pediatrician commented, "Wish I had caught that on videotape" (at which my thought was "Ummm, ew.").   Kekoa quietly submitted to the cleaning and dressing, and the other ped cooed at him that he must take after his mom.  "Next time, you should leave for the hospital sooner," one nurse told me.  Gee, ya think?  Courtney wrapped up things and then stood up.  "I have to go admit you to the hospital now," she said.  The nurses all laughed.  I sent Josh to go get my mom, who had been left in the waiting room while we "got settled in a room."  Kekoa and I both just felt like this at that point:

So that was my labor.  In one sense, it was nothing at all what I had expected.  I have no idea what pain management techniques I'll want to use for my next labor, because I didn't really have a chance to try anything but breathing.  I was hoping for a natural childbirth, but I wasn't closed to the idea of an epidural - but in the end, it wasn't really my choice.  There was no time for an epidural even if I wanted one.

But on the other hand, it was way better than anything I expected.  I felt mostly relaxed the whole way through, which helps labor progress.  And I had heard often that labor often makes you act in ways you wouldn't normally - a time when quiet women scream, sweet women curse, and loving wives snap at their husbands.  But I never once felt like the pain transcended my personality, and I was in control of what I said and did.  That, I think, was the biggest relief and relaxant of all.

Since coming home, we've been trying to do as much of this as we can...

...though some of us are more successful than others.  My mom has been a great help in helping me squeeze in those naps, so I feel pretty good and almost back to my normal self.  I went for a walk yesterday and was exhausted in just a few minutes, but all in good time.

Yes, I would say life is good.

40 Weeks

So according to What to Expect When You're Expecting, "today marks the official end of your pregnancy."

Which I guess means I was officially pregnant until today (and I guess that also means that if you go overdue, then you're unofficially pregnant until the baby is born.  Bummer).  So the only logical thing to do was to post a picture of myself at 40 weeks pregnant.

Banner made by friend Abby :)

You can read my mom's version of my labor experience here.  Maybe someday I'll post my view of the labor experience, but until that happens, this is a pretty good summary:

1) This:  http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/pain_rating.png

2)  I'm terrible at estimation.  I will never win the "guess how many jelly beans are in the jar" contests.

And with that, I'm off to enjoy the fruits of my labor.  :)

Almost there....

Taken at 38 Weeks

All systems are a go...now we're just waiting on the little guy.  I finally stopped procrastinating on finding a pediatrician -- I guess I figured that as long as there was something majorly important left to do, then I wouldn't go crazy waiting.  Car seat is installed, bed has sheets on it, baby clothes are sorted, folded, and re-folded, silverware drawer is organized by type, weight, and size of utensil (wait, what do you mean that wasn't a baby essential??).   

I feel great.  Josh and I have been walking consistently and I feel like I'm in the best physical shape I've been during this pregnancy.  So bring on the labor.

Also, please note the tan.  Thank you.

FAQs

I thought I'd be helpful and post a list of my top 15 FAQS (and their answers...).  So here goes:

(1)  Q:  So, are you ready and excited for baby to come?
A:  If you have to ask, you've probably never been eight and a half months pregnant.  I'd be ready for baby to come if we lived in a shack with no bed and had not a stitch of baby clothes.

(2)  Q: Kekoa?  What kind of name is that?
A: A cool one!  The other day I saw it written down and thought, "Hey, I really like that name!"  Good thing....
  But seriously, it's the first part of Josh's middle name, which isn't actually Kekoa's middle name because he actually will have four names: first, first middle, second middle (which contains "Kekoa"), and last.

(3)  Q: Are you *sure* it's a boy?
A:  Yup.  Confirmed by two ultrasounds of our little exhibitionist.  Let's just say we're gonna have to work on the whole modesty thing with this kid.

(4)  Q:  Are you *sure* there's only one baby?
A:  Ha. ha. ha.  You probably think you're the first person to make that joke, right?

(5)  Q:  You don't look eight and a half months pregnant.  Are you *sure* your due date is right?
A:  *sigh*  How can you ask question 4 AND question 5 in the same breath?

(6)  Q:  So...enjoying being pregnant in this heat?
A:  If you're asking this question, then you know how heat affects pregnant women.  Which means you've either (1) been pregnant during the summer or (2) been married to a pregnant woman over the summer.  Which means that (3) you're really mean for asking this question.  A far better question would be: "Can I get you some ice-cold water or lemonade?  Or better yet, a swimming pool?"  In that case, the answer is yes.

(7)  Q: Have you done all your shopping and decorating for your nursery?
A: hahahahahahahahaha.  Shopping and decorating?  What's that?  For a ... nursery?  I do not know this word of which you speak.

(8)  Q:  Have you washed all your little baby clothes/sheets/slipcovers/burp cloths before using?
A:  ROFL.   You're funny.

(9)  Q:  Why cloth diapers?  Isn't that, like, disgusting?
A:  You can just call me Scrooge.

No, okay, serious answer because some of you really want to know: because Josh and I have three goals. (a) Get through grad school without debt, (b) have a healthy happy marriage at the end of grad school (i.e., one that's not strained and stressed over finances), and (c) have more children in the future without compromising the first two goals.  Cloth is my contribution.

(10)  Q:  I've been to your apartment.  How exactly are you going to fit a baby in there?
A:  We're all just going to love each other a little more.  And I enjoy getting rid of stuff.  So he'll fit.

(11)  Q:  No crib??? 
A:  Refer to question 10.  There's room for a baby or a crib, but not both.   I choose baby.

(12)  Q:  So do you like your midwives?
A: I like them enough.  Out of the four delivery midwives that rotate, there are two that I would love to attend my birth because I like their frank and honest styles, one that I don't know very well but like what I've seen, and one that I'm convinced thinks I'm about 15 years old.  While I'd prefer one of the others be on call when I go into labor, I doubt I'll really care much when the time comes.

(13)  Q:  Please, have more food.
A:  That's not a question.  But okay.

(14)  Q:  Here, wouldn't you like to sit in the biggest and comfiest chair we have?  Just let me kick this sweet elderly lady out first....
A:  Actually, I'm most comfortable on hard wooden straight-backed chairs and cross-legged on the floor.  But for some reason, it makes people uncomfortable to have pregnant women on the floor....why is that?  It's really the only position that doesn't make my hips and back hurt.

(15) Q: So have you chosen a parenting style?
A:  Uhhhhh......mine???  I suspect I will use a mix of attachment parenting and the baby whisperer, but mostly we'll do what works.

Happy Un-birthday to Me!

I had to laugh when a childhood memory popped into my head one day.

Baby Philip was just that, a baby.  We were at our homeschool group, and one of my mom's friends asked how old he was now.  Mom replied, "Five weeks."

The VERY NEXT DAY, we were at Costco.  A lady came up and asked my mom, "Awww, how old is he?"  And my mom answered, "Six weeks."

I was insanely jealous and outraged over the injustice.  *I* only got birthdays once a year.  And when I tried to sneak in an extra one by proclaiming that I was, in fact, five and a half, the adults would just chuckle at me.  But it seemed like baby Philip got a birthday practically every. single. day.  Next he would be two months, then ten weeks, then three months...and I was stuck being five for an entire year.

And people gave him things too!  Blankets and clothes and stuffed animals and toys.

It just wasn't fair.

The third trimester of pregnancy is kind of like being a baby again.  Before that, you have a few pregnancy milestones: end of first trimester at 14 weeks, the 20-week (halfway!) mark, the 24-week viability point.

But once you hit the third trimester, it's like having a birthday every single week.
28 weeks: baby has a 90% chance of surviving if born now without other complications.
30 weeks: the WOOHOO LESS THAN TEN WEEKS NOW! point
34 weeks: baby is considered "late" pre-term if born now (i.e., probably not a long stay in the NICU)
35 weeks: eight months down, one to go!
36 weeks: doctors stop talking about pre-term labor signs and start talking about the real thing
37 weeks: full-term!
38 weeks: less than two weeks
39 weeks:  HE COULD COME ANY DAY
40 weeks: officially due (a.k.a. I'm going to lose my mind if this baby doesn't come soon)

And then of course there are the other milestones: the "we're in the month of my baby's due date," the "baby has turned head-down/dropped" realization, the various signs that your body is not just growing a baby anymore, but preparing for labor (aching hips, anyone?).  Literally, every week is like a birthday.   Except so much better, because instead of you getting older, it's your baby getting closer.

Have I mentioned I really love the third trimester?

Of course, only other women who are/have been pregnant really know or care about the difference between 35 and 36 weeks.  That doesn't change the fact that when someone asks me how far along I am now, in my mind I'm like that five-year-old, standing up just a little bit straighter and saying, "I'm five... and a half."

Because everyone needs a few more reasons to party every week.  :)

36 Weeks (i.e., no more pre-term labor concerns!)

A Few Pregnancy Lessons

So as of week 30, I'm officially going by the quarterly system rather than the trimester system.  It sounds sooo much closer to say you're in the final quarter than it does to say you're in the final trimester.  And I am all for closer right now.

Also, some lessons I've learned:

1)  Baby hiccups are the most adorable things ever.  But entirely distracting when they are happening inside you for the entirety of your Easter church service.

2)  Online product reviews are a fabulous way to suck your time and life away, all while creating a personal crisis wondering if you are going to be a terrible mommy because you chose Johnson & Johnson over Aveeno and didn't register for a baby bath.  Bottom line people: not all products are created equal, but all car seats on the market HAVE passed the crash safety test.

3)  Ditto for parenting style books.    Pick a style that works for you and don't feel guilty --or smug -- because someone else disagrees.

4)  Always look camera ready, because people love taking your picture when you're pregnant.  In fact, a simple rule of thumb:
                       -Where you will be the only expectant momma, take a little extra effort with the make-up.
                       -If there will be one other pregnant woman, wear your most flattering jeans because there will be a belly bump comparison pic.
                       -If there will be multiple pregnant woman, practice posing for the "ooh, everyone line up so we can take a picture of all the mommies-to-be!" picture.
                       -If visiting with a single friend, you can relax - they will probably feel too awkward to ask to take your picture (does not apply to visiting with multiple single friends).
                      -Most of these pictures will disappear into the abyss that is camera memory cards, so don't forget to take your own pictures too so you can show your darling bundle how he abused your body.  I take them on weeks corresponding with my doctor's appointments so I don't forget.  And label them!  Or at least hold a sign in the picture itself with the week number.

Point: I took this picture at either 7 weeks, 12 weeks or 16 weeks.  But who really knows?

5)  You can pack away your cute tiny purses at the same time you pack away your cute tiny non-maternity clothes.  In fact, you might as well pull out the diaper bag now.  Tiny purses just aren't big enough to hold any decent snack.

6)  I miss my belly button.  Or perhaps more accurately, I miss having the opportunity to miss my belly button.

7)  It's amazing how quickly things can become "normal."  Sometimes I forget that I used to get up from a chair without using my arms.   Or that just seven months ago I never would have mentioned my belly button on a blog.

8)  "Healthy" means a million different things, depending on who you are and how your body reacts to its environment.  Healthy weight gain, healthy amounts of exercise, healthy side effects or symptoms.  So don't compare.

9)  Set visitor limits ahead of time.  If you want just family the first two weeks, then make that clear before travel plans are made.  If you will need time alone while people are visiting, pick those dates and times now and help them make plans to go sightseeing or on a picnic.  You know your personality - for example, I am a grouch when I'm tired or not feeling well, and those are both definite certainties.  So why set myself up to snap at the people who most love Josh and Kekoa and me?

10)  My new #1 tip for brand-new expectant moms: do your budget research early.

In January we started to set aside our estimated baby monthly expenses: diapers, medical, seasonal clothing, toiletries, cost of extra utilities.  Each month we use part of that amount to stockpile diapers and wipes and for pre-natal care.  The rest goes into a one-time purchase fund for anything we still need by the time baby comes ...and sometimes a little extra in the food budget :P

It's made us tighten up for sure - babies don't have to be expensive, but they aren't free.  But we both feel great that we won't be blindsided into overspending the first two months because we're too tired to revamp the budget.  And as a mom-to-be, I love the security of knowing that there is a little reserve fund especially for one-time baby purchases.  I won't have to wait on the adorable bouncer seat because the cost of gas keeps going up.

And finally, I leave you with....feet!  Just admire those long Hawaiian toes.  This kid is gonna need the XL booties.

28 Weeks

Bad news: our camera broke.  We took it with us when we went to visit our brand-new niece and nephew (!!!), but when we pulled it out, it wasn't working.  We had brand-new batteries with us, but thought they were defective.  But we bought new batteries this week, and they don't work either.  And the camera lens isn't working.  :(

We will definitely be getting a new camera by May, before Kekoa comes.  But in the meantime, I didn't want to *not* document the third trimester, so we experimented with our webcam last night.  Which led to this:

 
And many, many other videos and random snapshots.

Oh, and this:

Unfortunately, the webcam can't get my head in the shot too...but oh well.  You'll just have to trust that it's me.

Some other random Kekoa facts:

-the average baby is around 2 pounds (think the size of a Chinese cabbage) at this point.  Up to this point, most of the focus has been on development, but by now most of his major body functions are working and he's putting on fat to protect his organs.  His brain and lungs still have a way to go, though.

-his eyes are open and he can now blink.

-at 28 weeks, he'll be considered full-term in just 9 weeks and is due in 12 weeks.

-with his ravenous appetite, he has single-handedly managed to increase Mom's likelihood of making impulse buys at the grocery store by 6.5%  However, he has increased Dad's likelihood of making impulse buys at the grocery store by 19.6%.  He has also decreased the statistical likelihood of leftovers to close to 0%.

-Daddy enjoys feeling him kick, but he tends to behave much more when Dad's around (unless Dad has cold hands).

And that's the start of the third trimester!

Pace Thyself

Pacing myself has never been my strong suit.  When I could roll over, I wanted to crawl.   When I could crawl, I wanted to walk.  When I could walk, I wanted to read.  When I could read, I wanted to rule the world.

Just kidding about that last one.  I never wanted to rule the world (at least not publicly)...too stressful.

The point is I’ve never been good at setting a steady pace.  Even when I was little, my approach to saving money for a particular goal was “oh, I don’t need to buy clothes for another couple years…that can wait.”  (come to think of it…I’m still that way.  I credit my mom and SILs for keeping me clothed somewhat respectably, especially during maternity :P ).  I’d pinch every penny I could trying to madly rush to my goal.  And then when that wasn't enough, I'd buy 10 cent popsicles at Costco and sell them to my brothers for a buck whenever they'd hear the ice cream truck (hey, in their minds it was a bargain!).

  

And that’s how I came to be two years out of college, married, and with a baby on the way at the ripe old age of 22.  Josh isn’t any better...he crammed four years of college into three to graduate the same year I did.

This pregnancy has been a major reality check for me.  You can take 10 college credits in one summer, or squeeze the life out of every penny so you can take horseback riding lessons, or do a couple extra lessons in your English curriculum so you get more time to play later on.

But there’s not much you can do to hurry along a nine-month pregnancy (and it's not that I really want to…although Kekoa, if you’re listening, you should know that you’re technically considered full-term at 37 weeks.  Just something to keep in mind).

Nope, we’re in this for the long haul.  Literally.

And I find myself, here in the waiting period, jumping ahead to the next stage.  Buy a house.  Get a car with fewer miles on it so my parents can stop worrying about Josh’s uber-long commute.  Get Josh through school and our new place needs at least three bedrooms so we have room for the next kids and…..

*deep breath*

I have to remember that I am 22.  Most of my peers are finishing up their senior year of college.  And while we’re emotionally ready enough to make those big decisions for our family, Josh does not need that extra stress as he finishes up his semester.  Isn’t being a student, full-time professional, and soon-to-be daddy enough? 

I don’t have a sewing machine.  On my days off, I’ve been cutting up old t-shirts and pajamas and Snuggies and whatever random scraps of fabric I can find and making re-usable wipes, nursing pads, little hats and mittens.  It would be a million times faster to use a sewing machine, and probably more durable.

But I’ve found that the hand-stitching is perfect for me right now.  I take an hour in the afternoon – usually around the time my mom calls – and put my feet up and stitch away.  I can keep my hands busy, which relieves that restless energy that apparently was pent up inside me at birth.  That urge to go, go, go.  I can stay away from number-crunching spreadsheets and parenting advice on the computer and just be still.

I sometimes feel lazy.  At work I’m Miss Efficiency, and hand-stitching baby wipes would NOT pass the “capable co-worker” test.  But I have to remind myself to rest, to enjoy the moment, to let the time move more slowly.  To talk to my baby and feel him kick, and to remember that there's plenty of time to accomplish those other goals.

But these moments, just baby and me...those are the moments I will never have again.

It's for Real!

24 Weeks

Why We're Not Having Twins

We have been asked so many times, "So, are you having twins?"  We were asked enough simply because Josh was a twin, but then when his sister-in-law announced that they were expecting twins, the questions multiplied.  I went out to coffee with a friend the other day who said, "Well, you'd better watch out...apparently you're going to have twins next!"

So...let's do a little twin myth-busting, shall we?

Fraternal twins are more likely* in women who have the gene for hyperovulation (or who have undergone fertility treatments, in which case there's nothing genetic about it at all).   A female fraternal twin is likely to have twins herself.  A male fraternal twin, however, may pass this gene down to his daughter and have twin grandchildren, but his own chances of having twins are no higher than anyone else's.

Sooo...even if Josh were a fraternal twin, then my chances of having twins would remain exactly the same.  But if we had a daughter, she could have twins (which, btw, is how the myth got started that twins skip generations).

However, Josh is NOT a fraternal twin.  He is an identical twin.  Identicals are completely random (as far as doctors know - they have no idea what causes eggs to split, but haven't found any sort of correlation between identical twins in families), and actually are technically a malfunction of the normal process.  Neither female nor male identical twins are more likely to have their own twins.

So, in other words, my chances of having twins are about as good (or bad) as anyone else's for three reasons:

(1) Josh is an identical twin rather than fraternal, meaning there's nothing genetic about it and I don't even have a good chance of having twin grandchildren.

(2) I do not share my sister-in-law's genetics, which may or may not be the cause of her twins in the first place.  In any case, her likelihood of having twins has no relation to mine.

(3) As far as I know, there are no fraternal twins on my side of the family, so my chances of carrying the gene are pretty low.

So there you have it.

*Obviously, there are other factors involved and a woman having fraternal twins may or may not have this gene.  But any relation between multiple sets of fraternal twins in a family is usually due to this gene.

Pregnancy is like planning a wedding...

...everyone who has ever been through one wants to tell you their stories.  Which is fine, and cute, and it's a good bonding experience (once the bride/mother-to-be learns to shrug off the well-meaning but completely uninformed advice).  But there's just one problem:  no wedding story will ever come close to a pregnancy horror story.  Your cake might have toppled over, or the best man fainted, or the rings might have been forgotten in a hotel room.  Maybe your veil even caught on fire from lighting the unity candle.

But no, none of those even come close to beating ANYTHING close to "oh yes, after 96 hours of excruciating labor my abdomen was sliced open and then ...[insert groteseque details here]."  Or almost worse, "I thought for sure that once I was past the first trimester we were good to go, but then I miscarried at 19 weeks with copious bleeding and had to be rushed to the ER.  *pause*  Wow, you're pretty far along to not be showing even a little bit...are you sure everything's okay?"

News flash:  I don't need your help coming up with ways my pregnancy could go wrong.  Trust me, my body is coursing with hormones.  I have fully considered every possible thing that could go wrong - food poisoning, lack of nourishment, seatbelt trauma in a car accident, having a 19-pound baby, freak genetic incompatibilities that result in our child being born with a full-length beard, and the chance of being picked off by a sniper on the fifth floor of the office building in our local grocery store parking lot.

[I might have woken my husband up in the middle of the night crying about that last one.]

And I've taken the reasonable precautions for them.  Prenatal vitamins, a healthy diet, frequent (but not too frequent) exercise, safe driving, and pricing bullet-proof vests long enough to cover a protruding belly (we decided that probably a crib was a better investment of the money, although I sure hope we don't live to regret that decision).  And so I've reached the point where there's really nothing I can do about it.  We just wait and pray that everything turns out...and we keep my favorite comfort foods stocked for the days when the hormones take over.

So when the next person eyes my still very flat belly and make a comment like "Gee, you don't seem to grown at all...are you sure the baby's all right?", I will look them in the eye and say very, very sweetly:

"No, it was just an elaborate hoax to see how many people noticed after six or seven months.  Congratulations on catching on so fast!"

And then I will start working on my list of horror stories to tell the next pregnant woman who comes along.

Second-borns are the best

It has become apparent.  It is very obviously second-borns that are the most loved.

You see, when a mother decides she wants her first baby, she really doesn't know what she's getting into.  She doesn't understand the desperate need for twenty pillows propping up her back.  She hasn't considered the loss of her favorite wardrobe - possibly forever.  She has never experienced the utter indignities that pregnant women are subjected to at the doctor's office.

And so, she desires that first child in ignorance.

Oh sure, I love my firstborn without a doubt.  But anyone can walk into a torture chamber willingly, if they don't know what it is.  But a mother choosing to have a second baby is walking into the torture chamber with her eyes open, with full knowledge of what is to come. 

Therefore, I, as the desired second-born, am quite obviously the most loved.  Thanks, Mom.

P.S.  Don't worry to those of you who are concerned about my firstborn's self-esteem.  I'll delete this post before Jiblet can read, which will be sooner than you think because I had a an obviously prophetic dream that she was a child prodigy with far superior mental capabilities and a sunny-sweet, always obedient disposition and an absolutely fabulous mother. Like every firstborn, right?  But then, in that case, I don't think you have to worry about self-esteem issues.

P.P.S.  For you firstborns reading this, really, I'm kidding.  It's okay.  I'm sure your mom loves you very much.   This post is really just a way for me to complain without sounding too whiny, so don't get bent out of shape.

Goodness Gracious, I have a Blog????

Hello blog.  :)

I am posting on you because I don't want to become one of those women whose facebook becomes a pregnancy discussion board.  I mean, people can choose to read my blog.  They'd have to block my newsfeed to avoid seeing my posts.  And you don't want that, do you?

Of course not.

Besides, there's people who actually WANT the details (Hi, Mom and Dad).  So now they can read if they want.  But they don't have to.  Plus, I get to keep a record of pregnancy, so that when that little bundle of joy is in my arms and my brain magically forgets about all the inconveniences of the past nine months, and I turn to Josh and say, "Awww, I just want 20 more of these," then I have a reminder that no, I actually don't want 20 more of those. That I might melt when I look into little Jiblet's eyes, but I really don't want to do this 20 times and ten or less will suffice.  And I don't want to do it with multiples, either.


So blog, I will try to not turn you into a pregnancy log, because the internet does not need to have access to whether my ankles are swelling or info on how difficult it is to sit up in the mornings.  But most likely pregnancy will come up frequently.  Sorry about that.

When I was talking to a dear friend, she asked me what I was learning lately.  I peered the morning sickness induced brain haze and found a recurring theme:

My utter, complete dependence on the good grace of others.

It's easy to appreciate the grace of God.  I mean, no matter how you try, He's perfect and you're not.  But humans are a little different.  They're imperfect, you're imperfect.  You show them grace, they show you grace.  It's really easy to take that for granted, or to take it as "I forgave you, so now you forgive me."

But I found myself in the throes of morning sickness, and therefore, etiquette and social norms went out the window.  My college roommate invited me to a party the first weekend after the morning sickness hit.  I had RSVP'd yes.  But then the day of, I simply couldn't go to a party where there would be food.  Which pretty much describes every party.  So I blew it off.

And then there was the time my boss showed a great act of kindness and ordered pizza for our whole office.  Now, normally I'm a supreme pizza kind of gal.  But onions have declared themselves as my mortal enemy, in any form.  And then one of my co-workers suggested that we get a Supreme pizza, and everyone else very quickly agreed.  I mean, I'm the only girl in an office of guys!  Supreme is the thing to get!

One of my co-workers must have looked at my face.  The face that was plainly conveying the thoughts in my head.  The thoughts that ran something along the line of, "Onions?  On pizza?  That's like the equivalent of bringing in roadkill to the office and dishing it up"  And that kind co-worker very graciously jumped in to suggest a different kind.  When the others said that no, they were absolutely sure that supreme was what they wanted, kind co-worker jerked his head in my direction to remind them of my "condition".

So that was the time when little Jiblet vetoed an entire office to get the kind of pizza he wanted.  Who says children don't have sin natures?

And the list goes on.  My boss brought in his daughter's homemade fudge, very proudly showing off her skills.  I politely took a piece, took a bite, and promptly exited the building.  How can I tell him she did a good job after that?  I didn't eat the dishes that my guests brought to Thanksgiving.  I left church to eat a snack because Jiblet was hungry and goodness knows won't wait for anything.  But that was actually an improvement - I actually went to church that week, despite the 40-minute car ride over the mountains.

And then there's Josh.  As he puts it, I have a different stomach every day.  What sounds great yesterday, and of which I made a week's worth of servings, suddenly becomes a monster in my fridge.  The first week of the sickness, I wanted potatoes.  So we bought a five pound bag of potatoes.  But three days later, I could no longer look at potatoes.  And what's worse, I could no longer wash the dishes of any meal that included potatoes.  So Josh's meals have been reduced to the food I can't look at.

So what I have learned in the last two months?  First, I learned that the first trimester is really awful, and I really hope that the morning sickness disappears completely soon (it's hard to imagine being able to eat anything, though!).  But more importantly, I am completely dependent on others to extend grace, no matter what manners or social customs I ignored.  To still be my friend, even if I leave the lunchroom when they bring in their food.  To still include me in their plans, even though I cancelled last minute the last time because of carsickness.  To be kind enough to overlook my social transgressions.

And that's grace.