Super Mom

Being a mother of two is a tough gig. (Stop the presses! Breaking news!) I continue to feel pulled in all directions. I love my toddler but he does not react well to being told to wait. To give me a minute. To share his time with his sister. Really, I don't know a lot of adults who do well with patience so it's not that surprising that he struggles. But, it's a rough transition for all of us. I have less sleep and less serenity than I would like. I don't respond very pleasantly to whining or temper tantrums when I am crabby (or well-rested, for that matter).

Part of me is starting to wonder if some of this stress is self-inflicted. Yesterday, I wrote about getting to sleep in but then having to rush like crazy to get the kids out the door so the tot could be on time for preschool. As I was speeding (yes, speeding! With my two children in the car!) it occurred to me that my husband had offered repeatedly to take Ben to school. That had I taken him up on the offer, I could have had more time at home to get ready for my doctor appointment, feed the baby one more time, and still have plenty of time to make it to preschool pick up. That I might have been able to do my hair AND my make-up instead of picking between the two. Heck, I might have even gotten a shower or been able to finish my coffee! 

I don't know why I feel "less than" if, heaven forbid, I allow my husband to take the kiddo to school once in awhile. It's as if my letting him take over the school drop off somehow signifies that I have failed for that day. That I have not met all of my "mom objectives". That I can't hack it and have dropped the ball where so many of my fellow moms are succeeding. I can't explain why or where that comes from. But today I realized that sometimes I need to take the help when it's offered. There are plenty of times when I am wishing I had help and it's not available. I need to be able to accept the assistance with gratitude instead of guilt. Getting help from my co-parent doesn't make me a slacker mom or a bad mom. In reality, if it keeps me from snapping at my two year old for whining, it might even make me a better mom. 

Not enough hours

Try as I might, I can't seem to find the time to blog as much as I'd like. Our days are flying by in a whirlwind of nursing, napping, family visits and trying to get the every day things like showering accomplished.

But, I am blessed enough to wake up to this every morning:

And (with God's grace) to go to sleep looking at this every night:

I hope that soon I will be able to squeeze more than a few words in between those two events!

Now We Are Four

Our days have been filled with nursing, diaper changes, spit-up, preschool runs, toddler tantrums and (when I am really, really lucky) naps. I have jumped full force in to being a mother of two. It's not what I thought it would be at all. It's harder, more tiring, louder, brighter and more exciting. 

When I was pregnant this time around, I had all these goals - I was going to do the "baby wearing" thing. I bought a Moby from a friend and a Mai Tai from a store. I wasn't going to use that nasty nipple shield - I was going to do the straight nursing thing. I was going to be patient with my toddler who would obviously be having some adjustment issues and remind myself that he was going through a transition rather than losing my temper and screaming like crazy at him when he started acting out. I was going to get up very early every day on little or no sleep and get showered and rearing to go so that I could get the kiddo to preschool on time, get my errands run, and clean my house. 

Let me just say that NONE of that is happening. Not a single thing I had planned for or anticipated has gone as I planned. The baby hates - HATES - the moby wrap. She cries as soon as I try to "wear" her. She is addicted to the nipple shield which I succumbed to using in a haze of hormones and fatigue at the hospital. I have tried repeatedly to wean her from it and she refuses to let it go. When she does latch, I am pretty sure it's incorrectly as it feels like she's about to pull my nipple off. I am weak - at this point, I prefer the shield! As far as the temper, mine runs rampant. I feel guilty constantly because my two year old is acting like, well, a two year old and I am frequently exhausted, losing my cool yelling at him and threatening time outs like there's no tomorrow. I keep trying to remind myself that this is a huge transition for him and he's struggling with sharing his space and (more importantly) his mommy, but in the heat of the moment it's hard to remember. And I don't even want to talk about how hard it is to get myself up and out of bed on the days of little sleep in order to get dressed and get the kids fed and out the door. 

So, being the planner that I am, you would think that all of this upheaval would make me miserable. Only it doesn't. It's not what I planned or pictured, but it's a different kind of wonderful. The baby is so small and soft and reminds me so much of her brother who now seems indescribably large by comparison. My toddler is struggling with this new arrival, but he shows a great deal of compassion and care for this new little person. He frequently orders me to "Go get her!" when she cries and he gives her his toys to try to cheer her up. I have explained the purpose behind burping the baby and why she gets fussy when her tummy hurts and he says to her "I am sorry you have bubbles in your tummy". I struggle to find one on one time with each of them, but am so glad for all of our together moments. I love our family. Our messy, loud, disorganized, fun family of four. 

The Stump

The baby's umbilical stump is mocking me. I know it's only supposed to hang out for 1-2 weeks but we are already at the ten day mark and it's still there. Everyone says how great it looks. It will surely fall off anytime now. And yet, there it still sits. Preventing me from using all the cute onesie/pants combos that are washed and hanging, waiting uselessly in the closet and the drawers. Keeping me from rolling out the tummy play mat to help my daughter work on her head and neck muscles as well as getting those air bubbles out of her tummy.

But you know the weird thing about the stump? I almost don't want her to lose it. Because she's that much bigger the day it falls off than she was the day before that. I am tired. I have been up every night for at least a couple of hours and sometimes for more than half the night. I get frustrated and cranky but I am in no hurry for the sleepless nights to be over. Because the day they are - she is that much older and grown that much more.

You see, I am pretty sure she is our last baby. We have a girl and a boy. What more could you ask for? Not to mention that being pregnant is kind of hard. Delivery and recuperation is even harder. Having a child who is sleeping through the night, able to do all sorts of cool activities, and becoming a fully functioning little kid and then having to hit the "reset button" to go back to the start with a new little one is one of the toughest parts. I am glad to have the opportunity to have all of these experiences a second time around but not sure I could swing it for a third or fourth time. Not physically, not financially, and probably not emotionally.

So, that means this is our last umbilical stump. Our last time to wake in the night and nurse and snuggle. My last time to see a baby roll over for the first time or catch her first smile or hear her first laugh. Every single moment feels meaningful and important and something to be savored rather than pushed past or wished away. So, Mr. Stump, you can stay for as long as you need to.

She's HERE!

So this happened last Monday:

It was amazing. It was a completely different experience from the first time and still completely unforgettable. I was able to be present for the whole procedure which was unbelievable. It was simultaneously terrifying and breathtaking. Seeing my daughter for the first time is still indescribable. I am determined in the next few weeks to find a way to put my thoughts on paper if only to be able to capture the moment before it is fogged by the process of time.

We are all still in transition mode in this house and that coupled with family visitors has prevented me from having much time to blog. Though I strongly suspect that having two children to wrangle will also be keeping my blog time to a minimum. On the plus side, midnight and 3AM feedings have afforded me the ability to keep up on reading other people's blogs which is better than I could do before. I strongly suspect that my night time periods of consciousness are only going to increase for awhile. It's unfortunate that I can't figure out a way to breastfeed and blog simultaneously.

The Cat is Leaving the Bag

This baby has been named. We had picked a name actually weeks ago and started referring to her by it to "try it out". Somewhere along the line the name we were trying became the actual name and neither of us could think of any alternative on our list that we liked better. We have also been referring to her by name in front of the tot and he knows her name. He calls her "Baby Sister (insert name here)".

But we are not telling people. I don't know why. I guess it's in case we don't stick with that name and decide to change it at the last minute? Or maybe it's because we don't want to hear "Really? THAT'S what you are naming her?" or see anything other than elation from friends and family when we announce her name following her arrival. Or maybe it's just that it's a personal decision and something we want to keep private and just "ours" for as long as possible.

In any case, our very smart toddler has apparently decided it's time to share. Last night, his wise music teacher asked "What is your sister's name going to be?" and he blabbed without hesitation. My husband said she looked to him for confirmation and he was so surprised by the sudden sharing from our son that he didn't know what to say. He ended up awkwardly admitting that yes, that was in fact her name but no, we aren't actually telling anyone. I guess we should have told that to our toddler...

The Longest Morning

You know what you get when you eat cookies before your glucose test? An invitation to take another one! Another, longer, fasting version with many more blood draws. Joy, joy! I had to have the husband stay home with the tot for this one so I got up especially early in order to be at the hospital right when the lab opened. Unbeknownst to me at the time, the 3 hr glucose test doesn't actually start until after your initial blood draw comes back from the lab. So despite arriving at 7am rearing to go, my actual test didn't begin until almost 8am. At which point, I had to chug down the same sugary orange drink and then wait an hour to have my blood drawn...again.

Did I mention this was a fasting test? So I had not eaten anything since 8pm the night before. For some odd reason, where I was sitting just happened to be the area where every nurse, orderly and visitor had to walk through with their boxes of donuts and trays of cookies for patients and staff. I tried to go to the gift shop and browse at one point, only to find that the register for the gift area was closed and if I wanted to buy anything, I had to pay for it in the cafe. You know, right next to the freezer case filled with pudding parfaits and brownies? By hour three, I was starting to hallucinate, I actually got to the point where I would see women carrying in bags that I could swear held birthday cake and cookies but ended up only being clothes on a second inspection. (I can't imagine what these women must have been thinking walking by the wild-eyed, enormously pregnant lady who was drooling at them).

Finally at 11, I had bruises in both arms and was done with the last blood draw. I was also famished and wishing fervently that I had thought to bring a snack in the car. I did the next best thing and hightailed it to the nearest drive-thru to pick up lunch. I rarely eat fast food, but that didn't stop me from finishing most of my fries before I got in the door.

Thankfully, I passed the test with no trouble at all. Which means I can go back to my nightly habit of double-stuffed Oreos and milk. It also means that I will be mentioning all of this torture and suffering to my daughter when she is at the "I hate you" stage of adolescence and complaining about how I never do anything for her.

Finally!

Let it not be said that babies don't follow their own plans. At least not by me. Given that I have waited an additional 8 weeks to find out the gender of this baby! But finally, FINALLY, we know!

Saturday we went to have a 3-D sonogram done. Part of the draw for this to me was that there is this service that allows family from far away to watch the sonogram on the internet. It seemed like a good way to get the grandparents involved when they couldn't be there. Also, they encouraged me to bring the toddler which I had been warned against at the doctor's office (because of the cramped quarters and the darkness - little ones don't appear to enjoy or understand the experience). So in addition to finding out the gender of this baby, there were a lot of good reasons for trying this service.

But let me just say, if you've never had a 3-D sono done, they are a little odd. It's interesting to see the baby's movement, the details that you'd never be able to discern on a regular sonogram, to know things like this baby snuggles up on my placenta. But the actual images? Well, they were a little creepy to me. Still, the whole experience was worth it because within minutes of getting slathered up on the exam table, the tech asked "are you ready?" and pointed at some vague object in the vicinity of the baby's legs. She typed on the screen - "It's a girl!"

I was stunned. And tearful. I think I might have said "Ben, you have a sister!" to which he looked up at the screen for a brief moment and went back to playing with his cars. (It turns out my doctor's office is correct - toddlers have absolutely no interest in this process). As soon as our appointment wrapped up, we went to Target to buy odds and ends. And girl clothes. Not a lot but a few. Because they are pink! And little! And cute! Bring on the pink ribbons and bows!