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.

The Feminist Homemaker

The homeschool generation has a very interesting dichotomy when it comes to feminism.  Half of my class has been raised in the idea that being a stay-at-home and homeschool mom is the only option.  If you choose to work instead, then you might as well be sacrificing your children.

Then there's the half that grew disillusioned with homeschooling and are rather embittered by the thou-shalt-homeschool attitude.  Like most "ordinary" people, they plan on having 2-3 children after waiting 4-5 years while they enjoy their lives as young married couples and get their fill of the career world.  Then they may or may not homeschool - that's a decision they will make depending on how their careers are going.

I was talking to an old college friend last month and I got the distinct impression that she viewed my decision to quit my job with a "yep, you've been brainwashed" attitude.

Neither side of the coin really seems to be interested in the choice.  Even the more "feminist" among them don't really care about what I *want* to do - they just assume my choice is due to family and social pressures.

I like my job.  And I'm really good at it.  In the past year I've made huge improvements to our office and I know that I could go far in the job world.  I have the highest recommendations.  For only having been in the working world for two years, I have a wide variety of experiences and knowledge and I am confident that I could learn other skills very quickly.

But you know what?  Being part-time has shown me that I really prefer the homemaking.  I love planning out our budget and pinching pennies so that we can pay off student loans as quickly as possible.  I love talking over our long-term spiritual, financial, and family goals with Josh, and coming up with ways to meet those goals.  I love planning for baby on a budget, cutting up old t-shirts and using them to sew re-usable wipes and little hats and mittens.   I like freezing big meal batches for later and packing Josh's lunch and stocking my pantry and having a sparkling bath tub.  I like going grocery shopping and surprising Josh with cinnamon rolls when he comes home after a long night in class.

At work, I do a lot of the same things.  I work within a budget and pay bills and play with numbers and look for ways to save money within the office.  I go shopping for office supplies and plan office parties once in a while and get resourceful with things we bought years ago and never used.  I make sure the office stays clean so that  our volunteers are comfortable.  And I enjoy it.  It's for a good cause.

But it's not for the people I love most.  Same type of work, but the pride I feel in having a clean desk space is not the same pride as when Josh is greeted with the smell of his favorite meal when he gets home.

I despise mopping and dusting.  I don't mind doing dishes, but someday I would really like a dishwasher.  And I know especially when baby comes there will be frustrating days, sleepless days, days when I feel trapped.

I have those days at work, too.

At work I can't cuddle with the two loves of my life to make it better.

So call me a feminist, because I made a decision based on what makes me feel best.  That just happens to be staying at home.  Or call me a victim of brainwashing, whichever you prefer.  Then I am quite happy being ignorant and "wasting" my talents to benefit my family.  Rather than earning an income, I can manage my home well.  I think that for our family, the financial benefits are actually better long-term.

If staying at home is a decision that would make you feel trapped, then by all means, you don't have to stay home.  You will only make your family unhappy.  But don't stay in the work force if you don't love it, just because you feel like it's the only way to maximize your potential.   I don't think the empowerment of women was supposed to mean grand careers.  It was meant to provide women with an option.

And I've chosen mine.

It's for Real!

24 Weeks

Life Update (and a Baby Bump-ish Picture!)

Sometimes it seems like our lives are changing so quickly in so many ways that I forget who I've told what.  So a quick summary of all the happenings in all of our lives...

Josh: got his clearance in January, started working full-time, and is now crazy busy.  Last semester he had the luxury of working part-time, so he could leave early in the afternoon to get to class and not have to make up the time.  Now he leaves home earlier in the mornings to make up the missed time.  Still, he's amazingly pleasant and patient with me, considering the many demands on his time and the late nights and early mornings.  He's a trooper.  :)

I went from full-time to part-time a couple weeks ago, and it's been wonderful.  Last semester we were scrounging peanut butter and jelly sandwiches by the middle of the week, because both of us were out late on Josh's class nights and didn't get a chance to cook.  Being home a few days allows me to clean the house, menu plan, pay bills, and make dinner/pack lunches before Josh gets home, so his time at home is free for sleeping or studying or spending time with me.  :)  Plus, fewer late nights for me.  Additionally, I gave up the part of my job I like less (administrative and mailings), and kept the part I like more (financial and data management).  Win win win!

I'm also apparently lucky enough to be one of those women for whom morning sickness continues throughout the pregnancy, but it is much less frequent and I'm able to eat a greater variety of foods now.  Since it's worse when I'm tired, the part-time work schedule has really helped, and I no longer make myself motion sick just by walking out to the mailbox.  Woohoo!   Rich, sugary foods and onions still set me off, but when I told my midwife that, she simply nodded and said "oh, that's great."  Thanks for the sympathy.  :-P

Baby Kekoa: is a boy!  I'm still bummed that I can't put all pink stuff on my baby registry (well...I could, but I don't think either of my two Josh's would appreciate that very much), but we are both excited to meet him, and I know his pack of uncles will train him well in sports.  We're calling him Kekoa (first part of his Hawaiian middle name) to distinguish him from Daddy.

The ultrasound revealed that Kekoa's measuring a bit ahead of average (crossing my fingers for an early birth here.....), and I started feeling him kick around 17 weeks. Josh felt him kick for the first time at 18 weeks, and just last week I started seeing his movements from the outside, which was completely weird.  Suddenly all these milestones started hitting that made everything a bit more real.  This is week 20 for me, so halfway to meeting him!

20 Weeks!

^ That is the highly elusive and extremely finicky beginnings of a baby bump, of which I am very proud.  I'm still in the annoying people-can't-tell-if-I'm-fat-or-pregnant-so-they-stare-awkwardly-at-my-abdomen stage, but at least we're getting somewhere.

And...as a family, we've started the hunt for a place to live come August when our lease expires.  We would love to stay here, but we want more time for Josh to sleep and to be with our little family.  So we're looking for an affordable place closer to his work, preferably where we could stay until he finishes school.

So that's us in a nutshell right now!  Now everyone (at least everyone who even knows I have a blog) is on the same page, and caught up with the various and sundry changes in our lives.  Many more to come!

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.