Random thoughts

Alec is almost 6 weeks old.

I have finally come to the realization that I'm a stubborn ass. Ass as in donkey sense of the word. Sometimes, being stubborn has served me well, and has helped me accomplish things that I wouldn't have been able to otherwise. But other times....well...

I *just* called the lactation consultant at the hospital today. I explained that although I have been pumping steadily every 3 hours or so since the first week, my milk supply still leaves A LOT to be desired. By the end of the day, I'm lucky if I can collect a whopping total of 2.5 ounces from both breasts. Alec has only been latching successfully for about 2 weeks now, so he does get nursed (usually) before every feeding with formula. Unless we're out of the house, or when people are over at our house. What can I say? I am a new mum, and very shy and a little on the insecure side about mine and Alec's ability to nurse properly. Even with my mum in town, it was tough for me, as at that point, Alec still wasn't latching without the aid of a nipple shield.

After telling all of this to the Consultant, she basically just let me know that unfortunately, I am just stuck with a low milk supply. But she said to stick with the pumping because then I will give Alec whatever little breastmilk I can. What I can't fathom, is how in the world am I going to keep doing this, without losing my mind!? It's already starting to take a toll on me. I hate it that I can't provide nourishment to my child. I actually can't stand it. I asked her about Reglan (booster for milk supply), and she said that in my case, it wouldn't work.

Anyway...so that's my bitchfest for the week.

In happier news, we had Alec's one month check-up last Wednesday. Our Royal Tininess is no longer so tiny! He weighed in at 7 pounds, 9 ounces (remember, he was born weighing 5 pounds), and is now measuring 20 inches long. Alec changes and grows every passing day. He's now outgrowing some of his newborn-sized clothes....eeek! He eats really well, and is essentially a nice and chill baby.

4 Weeks Old! (well...almost.)

Tomorrow marks Alec's 4-week birthday. And Saturday, he will officially be one month old.

Time if flying here in our household. I don't even know where it's going.

Ok...well, I do. Kinda. Alec is all-time-consuming. Even though he's a VERY easy baby (so far...I'm hoping I don't jinx myself), he still has to eat every 2-3 hours, sometimes cluster-feeds (a/k/a eating every.single.hour...or more often than that), poops and pees a lot, and just generally is so adorable that I stare at him all day long.

Alec has 1,001 different facial expressions, and 1,002 different little sounds and noises he makes while crying, sleeping, in the middle of pooping, bath-time and his varying states of alertness. Mr. M and I were very fortunate to have been able to have a photographer take Alec's pictures when he was only a week old. Here are a few of the pictures.


As you see, Alec was very alert even though he was only a week old at the time these pictures were taken.

So many milestones to recount, and so many more to come. Alec loves his tummy time on Daddy's chest when he comes from work; he just cozies up to him. He's capable of holding his head up for quite a long time for such a Tininess. Mommy has learned to identify the sound of his cry when he's hungry, when he's pissy or cranky and just wants to cry...or when he's uncomfortable, cold or hot.

Just a sneak preview here, though. We're still getting used to having the camera at arm's reach at all times, and to Alec's timetable, as well as everything parenthood entails. It's difficult. It's rewarding.

And we wouldn't trade it for the world.

Surprise!!

Whomever said that nothing in life is a surprise anymore, is full of crap.

Lentil (a/k/a Alec Keith) was born on Thursday, September 30, 2010 at 6:19 a.m. He wasn't due to arrive until October 20, 2010.

Hmph.

As you all know, my doctor was beginning to have inklings that I may have been measuring too small for the timing of pregnancy, so he scheduled me for a growth ultrasound. During the ultrasound, the technician commented that Lentil's size was fine, but she was questioning the [lack of] amniotic fluid she was able to see. She sent us to the waiting room, and had a conversation with my doctor. In turn, we were sent for, and the doctor basically told us to go straight to labour and delivery. He mentioned low fluids, and the fact that he had no problem with delivering me that very night should the non-stress test at labour and delivery show any fetal distress or anything of the sort.

The longest 5 minutes of my life were spent going from the doctor's office to the hospital (right up the street) and actually walking through the doors of labour and delivery. There, they hooked me up to a non-stress test to monitor the baby's heart-rate for about 20 minutes or so. They then performed another ultrasound, and managed to find a few more pockets of amniotic fluid. All in all, they told us that although my fluids were very low, they were hesitant to induce me - my cervix hadn't even begun to soften or dilate yet; so labour would have very likely been a 3-day long induction. So they released me, with instructions to meet with a perinatologist the next day for another (more in depth) ultrasound and consultation as to induction.

Needless to say, Mr. M, who had been under the weather for a few days at that point, got the 'health' scared back into him. I think it was at this point, that we realized that we were completely unprepared for the tiny life growing inside of me. But holy crap! We thought we had a good three weeks left to finish all the preparations!

Tuesday morning, I think I became a mad woman. In a frenzy, I cleaned the bathroom, did all the dirty laundry, cleaned the kitchen, living room and bedroom. I went to Target to pick up a few last-minute essentials...you know, diapers, wipes, more onesies, etc.

Unfortunately for both of us, Mr. M wasn't able to attend the appointment with the perinatologist. The only time they had available to see me, was at the same time Mr. M had a meeting with a parent. So I went alone, and let me tell you: it was probably the most emotionally draining and difficult hour for me. They did another ultrasound. The doctor, who I might add was absolutely fabulous in his explanations, basically explained that I had little to no amniotic fluid.

Not just that. He added to the laundry list. Lentil was measuring very small...about 2 full pounds under the 'average' inside baby for 37 weeks. Oh. He also happened to mention that the blood flow to Lentil through the umbilical cord was horrible.

I called Mr. M and put him on the phone with the doctor for this news - I'm not that great at sharing bad news like that, and since I have no head for science, I knew I would most likely botch it.

At this point, the perinatologist ordered me (and yes, he ORDERED me) to go directly to labour and delivery. I told him I had to go home, and pack and meet Mr. M. He said ok - but wanted me back at the hospital within three hours.

I went home. Mr. M and I packed our hospital suitcase. We drove to the hospital and checked into labour and delivery by 6pm.

By 7pm, Tuesday, September 28, 2010, they had me hooked up to fluids, pitocin drip and on all the monitors imaginable to mankind. After giving me about two hours' worth of heavy contractions, they deemed Lentil to be strong enough to withstand labour, and threw the idea of a Cesarean Section out the window. Yes, they considered this, since he was so small. I had to let them know that I had been having Braxton Hicks contractions for months...contractions were nothing to Lentil!

They took me off the pitocin at around 9:00 p.m. that night, and gave me some kind of contraption to soften my cervix, since I wasn't dilated at all at this point.

I still had the monitors on my belly. They had to monitor Lentil's heart-rate, as well as my contractions. Lentil kept on kicking at the little thingies attached my tummy, moving around and making the nurses rush into my room because they had lost his heartbeat. Lemme tell ya. Sleeping in a semi-sitting position, with monitors on me, is a PAIN IN THE ASS. Not to mention, being checked every hour.

Enter Wednesday morning. Contractions were coming and going - not really painful, but perceptible enough to make me think or say "hmmm...this is annoying". At around 9 that morning, the doctor came in and checked me - I was 50% effaced, but only 1cm dilated. She took away the cervix softener, and an hour later I was back on pitocin.

Mr. M went home at this point, to grab a few things we'd forgotten as well as to pay attention to Apollo. The poor guy was supposed to go to our friends' house for a few days, but since everything happened so suddenly, it just wasn't possible! The Puppy was a trooper, though!

At around noon or so, I started to feel contractions again that were somewhere between annoying and borderline painful. They weren't regular yet, so the nurse came in every hour to check on me, and increase the dosage of pitocin.

By 6:00 p.m., when the doctor came back to check on me, I was only 2cm dilated, and 60% effaced. By this point, the contractions were coming fast. Fast and HARD. I couldn't sit still, I couldn't do my breathing because I would have started hyperventilating. They were coming 3-4 minutes apart...AND I had that nasty, obnoxious and abhorred back labour. I begged for something to take the edge off; since I wanted to wait until I was 4-6cm dilated to break down and scream for an epidural. Honestly, though, who was I bloody kidding? So, at around 6:30pm, they gave me Fentanyl. That was some good stuff. Mr. M took advantage and went to the cafeteria to get something to eat while I was floating in the nether from it. By 7ish, though, the Fentanyl lost its edge, and the contractions were getting more and more painful with each minute that went by.

At about 9:00 pm, I begged and cried for the epidural...and it was all over and done with by 9:30. In the middle of the stupid needle being inserted, the mother of all contractions hit, and I almost died trying to sit still! But? I got through it, and within minutes of everything being taken care of, I felt no more pain.

At this point, my doctor came in to check on me, and having found that I hadn't progressed effacement and dilation-wise, she decided to break my water. Well...whatever was left of it inside my uterus.

Once this happened, things started to move forward a bit faster. I began to dilate and efface a bit faster, and since they had me on the epidural, they decided to monitor my contractions and Alec's heart-rate internally. I managed to get a little more sleep.

That is...until the nurse rushed in at around 2:00 a.m. because Alec's heart-rate had dropped severely. She placed me on the oxygen mask, and made me move around in the bed. It was tough. I couldn't move my legs without assistance, and the first thought going through my mind was that they were going to throw me onto the operating table for a section. After a while of trying to get Alec's heart-rate back up, the nurse went and got the doctor who ordered that my uterus be filled up (again) with saline solution.

I take it that this made Alec go "ahhhh....I can swim again...I'm happy". Heart-rate back up, Mommy back to sleep. But this ordeal lasted a good hour. I had already woken Mr. M up, and so we were both worried about how this delivery would end up. Neither of us wanted me to end up with a C-Section, although we both wanted a healthy baby.

Towards 5:00 a.m., I started to feel the sensation that I was ready to push, and so the doctor came in to check on me at about quarter till six, and said that I was fully dilated.

They set up the room, pulled out all the machines (and yes, they are scary-looking!), took away the foot of my bed. I woke up Mr. M again. It was time.

At 6:19 a.m., Thursday, September 30, 2010, Alec Keith M was born. I pushed for a whopping total of 7 minutes, maybe three or four times. It was tough, trying not to push with my facial muscles, but with my abdominal muscles. But I did it!

It was an amazing feeling. I didn't feel any pain...just pressure. Mr. M, who had been adamant throughout the pregnancy that he would NOT cut the umbilical cord or look 'down there', did both. As Alec's head was crowning, the doctor, nurse and obstetrics resident asked Mr. M if he wanted to look at it. To this day, he swears that it was the fuzziness, the fact that he was just waking up that induced him to take a peek, but he did it. He was really surprised that what he saw was this head full of black hair peeking out! Not only did he do this, but when Alec was done being pushed out, the doctor just handed him the scissors and just asked him to cut the cord. Not IF he wanted to cut it...but just...'cut it, dude'.

Mr. M was given the chance to announce the sex of our first-born child. He will always be proud of the moment when he said "I see balls". He was given a chance to see a live birth in progress, one of the most beautiful things anyone can experience. I am so proud of him. He was there with me from the beginning of the induction till the end, with the exception of a few hours to go home to check on Apollo, and to take a decent shower. He held my hand when my contractions were enough to send me over the edge, and I wasn't sure I could go any longer. He stroked my hair, and lost sleep. He was my rock.

I wouldn't have been able to do this without him.

Due to the fact that he was born weighing a whopping total of 5 pounds (yes...5. Even), Alec was whisked onto the heating and check-out area immediately after birth, where he pronounced healthy. I didn't get to hold him until about 45 minutes after he was born.

Although I tried nursing him as soon as I was able to hold him, I wasn't able to. He did take a bottle of formula, though. After this, the nurse took him to the nursery, where they performed all the rest of the health testing. Mr. M went with them, while another nurse stayed with me, and helped me make sure I was capable of moving. They had taken out the epidural equipment soon after Alec was born, but they wanted to make sure I was able to walk without wobbling, and go to the bathroom. HOLY SHIT. That hurt. I was not aware that after almost 12 hours of being catheterized, it would hurt so much to go pee normally! But? I was able to walk. Perfectly. So I was able to walk down from Labour and Delivery to the Family Center. I felt so odd, but proud as I walked down the corridors wearing nothing but my hospital gown and slippers. I made it through labour and delivery, and was able to walk soon thereafter.

The rest of our stay at the hospital was pretty normal. Alec, being so tiny, was miraculously allowed to room-in with us. Every time they wheeled him out to the nursery for testing, or shots, I felt this heaviness in my heart. Neither Mr. M or I liked it when this happened. This is why we roomed in with him. We also felt that regardless of whether or not he was sleeping in our room, our sleep would be interrupted anyway, for feedings. I also think it was Night Number 2 with Alec, that we got peed on for the first time, and had I not been swift with the washcloth, I would have been pooped on, as well...all of this, at 3:00 a.m.

This past week has humbled me beyond reason. Alec has been taking his sweet time in learning how to latch at my boob, so I have to use what I call my 'third nipple' so that he can nurse for a little bit before we must supplement with formula. The most difficult part of this is, even if he latched on beautifully, my milk supply is horrible - and I mean HORRIBLE. Alec feeds for 5 minutes, and he's still starving. When I pump, I'm lucky to get an ounce of milk from both boobs. Alec is taking 2 ounces of formula at this point.

I have also managed to cry more frequently in this past week than I did my entire pregnancy. Everything and anything is making me cry. When I think about my milk supply, I cry. When I think that I can't be a wife to my husband, I cry. When I'm in pain because I'm still recuperating, I cry. When I realize that my physical limitations are far more right now than while I was pregnant, I cry. I cry out of sheer exhaustion.

I guess my most important crying is done while I sit there, with Alec in my lap or arms, and I marvel at the simple perfection that Mr. M and I have created. This life, this little bundle of love that was born, under imperfect circumstances due to unknown reasons, three weeks early. We call him our Royal Tininess. We loved him before he was born, and now that he's here on Earth, we love him even more.

36 weeks down, 4 weeks to go....

What are another 4 weeks of waiting for the wee one to arrive, I ask of thee?

Not much, actually. Time is flying by. But I did just give Lentil the green light to come as of now - we had our [surprise] baby shower last weekend (thank you, Mrs. C!!). Got some of what we need. Should I go into labour right now, the only thing missing would be Mr. M (I'm NOT driving myself to the hospital...can you imagine getting pulled over by a cop while you're in labour for speeding???). He's at school for their yearly open house, and meeting all the parents. Poor guy. He'll be home at 10ish, and he'll be exhausted. Good thing tomorrow's Friday, and the only thing we have going on this weekend is a puppy play date with Apollo's good buddy, Rook. Oh...and baby shopping.

Anyway. Lentil now has the green light. Both from Mummie, and the OB. Scary, huh? Car seat is installed - just have to get it inspected. We have what we're using as the bassinet. We have a few onesies and newborn gowns, socks and hats, and some mittens. We do have some wipes, and a few of the cloth diapers I wanted to try. We have a few bottles, and a Diaper Genie that probably won't be the best to use with cloth diapers (meh...oh well). We still need a lot. But most of it is stuff that can be ordered online for much cheaper than BRU anyway. And...thanks to my mum, we have a Sleep Sheep. Lentil's going to LOVE that - I love it...!

Onto the shower. I seriously haven't the slightest clue how Mrs. C pulled this off, but she did. She was in cahoots with Mr. M, his mother, my mother, and my step-MIL...supposedly, we were going to go apple picking...so Mr. M and I got there, and surprise! Everyone is in Mrs. C's backyard! It was a huge surprise, even though I had suspicions - Mr. M almost screwed up because of some phone calls the day before, and when we pulled up at her house, I saw all of these cars...my SIL's included. So...therefore, I was highly suspicious. Anyway, so a day that I wore my favourite green cargo pants (basically, the only comfortable article of clothing I own that isn't yoga pants), and my tennies, I had my shower! It was very exciting. I'm definitely not good at being the center of attention, but I tried my best! Mr. M was grinning ear to ear when he saw my face. That was actually priceless.

All in all, I would call the shower a great success. Still stuff to buy, but oh well. It's the nature of the beast. I honestly would have preferred to purchase our own cloth diapers, for example...and yes, I do have to point out that a breast pump is a pretty personal purchase, as are all the accessories for it. That is something that we do need to get ASAP, as I would like to try to pump as soon as I can...so that Mr. M can have that special bonding with Lentil, as well.

Oh...in case you're doubtful, I promise you, it's not a miniature watermelon I'm growing in my tummy. I guarantee that it's a human being...one who likes to poke and kick me everywhere, wakes up in the mornings with hiccups, LOVES Smarties, parks his/her butt right below my ribcage and has already decided to start descending.

Yup. Lentil is dropping...everyday, I notice a bit more breathing room...and less peeing room. And more space in my tummy to eat those Smarties he/she loves so much. We had our first of the weekly check-ups yesterday with the OB. I also had my first internal examination, which showed no 'progress'...which I'm fine with - basically, although Lentil is dropping, my cervix is still long, and closed. This is good news. Oh...and I've gained 4 pounds in the last 3 weeks. I also got to hear Lentil's heartbeat twice, since Mr. M arrived at the appointment late, the OB did another doppler check for his sake. Oh...I also got to hear my OB give Lentil a private rendition of Let It Be, by the Beatles. Strong heartbeat aside, the OB still wants to do a growth ultrasound...despite the fact that everything else seems to point to healthy baby. He says it's a precaution. So this will get done this coming Monday. I guess at this point, he'll make a decision with us as to what needs to be done, if, in fact, his hypothesis that Lentil is small is correct.

As some of you know, Mr. M and I had decided early on that we were going to do our best to use cloth diapers and try to avoid disposables. There's just a lot of crap in disposables that we're not too wild about thinking of being such close proximity to Lentil's butt and nether regions. Not only that, but the environmental impact, should we use our own machines to launder the diapers, in conjunction with detergents that are 'good' for the environment, is much lesser; as well as the economical standpoint. We are very fortunate to have our own washing machine and dryer, and although we pay for electricity, the water is included in our rent...and when the weather's clear, I do plan on line-drying the diapers - which is better for them, anyway, as for their absorbency, etc., and also intend on using a detergent that is pretty economical. All of this being said, we were originally going to use an actual diaper service. You know, the one that comes and picks up all the poopie diapers and leaves fresh, clean ones in exchange...once a week. I searched, and I searched. There is ONE service for the tri-state region of New Jersey, New York and Connecticut. Luckily, they charge a flat fee of $23.00 per week for the service we need. However, after doing the calculations for the rough guesstimate of 2.5 years before Lentil is potty-trained, hiring the diaper service would not make financial sense for us, since we will want to use them for the subsequent child(ren). So we (or better yet, I) decided that we would just suck it up, make that initial investment of a couple hundred dollars in a good set of cloth diapers, diaper pins (or snappies) and diaper covers. This way, we have them, they are ours, and this way, we can try out a few different styles, types and kinds and choose which ones we prefer. Mr. M was a tough sell. He mentioned all the organic disposables there are out there. He mentioned the upfront cost of cloth diapering. I fought back...teeth and nail. I mentioned the organic disposables have really shitty (no pun intended) reviews. I mentioned the ability to RE-USE the cloth diapers we OWN on subsequent child(ren), or the ability to either sell second-hand, give away, or just use them for dust rags. I WANT to cloth diaper. Maybe I'm a masochist who likes to smell poopie diapers, and stick her hands in the toilet to rinse out fresh poop. I really don't care! This is what I believe in, and at least I'm not asking him to do the work. And...for the reasons stated above, I believe in them, and think they are the best choice for us as a family. He finally gave in. Yay! I think he realized that there may very well just be a method to my madness. At least I'm not insisting on co-sleeping. He'd probably shit a brick if I mentioned that.

Lentil has decided to give me some pretty decent contractions tonight. I'm going to bed in hopes of them going away.

Thursdays....

Yuck. Why can't it be tomorrow yet?

If it were tomorrow, that would mean that Mr. M could come home from school, and curl up with me on the couch.

If it were tomorrow, I would be two more days closer to going apple picking with my best friend and her family.

If it were tomorrow, I would be four more days closer to meeting the pediatrician that is most likely going to be Lentil's doctor. And he's from Argentina. Sweet.

Or even yesterday. It was Hump Day.

Yesterday was also my very own 35/35 day. This means that I am 35 weeks along, and have 35 days to go until my estimated due date...for some reason, every instinct is telling me that Lentil is impatient to come out.

For the past few months, I've been getting those annoying little Braxton Hicks contractions, wherein my tummy feels like it's seizing up for a few moments. They don't hurt, they just kind of stop me in my tracks in surprise. For the past few days now, I've felt those same contractions, but they're beginning to hurt...along with cramping. These cramps are not that painful....yet. But they take me by surprise, and wake me up at times. I also feel 'off'. You know that feeling that things are just a little off-kilter? That feeling. Or maybe that's because my growing belly causes me to lose balance easily.

I get yelled at by Mr. M because I overdo myself. In turn, I get yelled at by the Step-MIL for overdoing it. I have these really strong urges to nest, to organize and to clean, but I can't. On Monday, I did the dishes, swept the floors, and made the dough for pizza. By the time Mr. M got home from work, I was on the floor. I could barely move, and contractions were coming fast. Seriously, if this is how the next few weeks are going to be, I want Lentil OUT. Ok. I take that back. I don't want Lentil out of my tummy. Lentil is NOT to come out of tummy for at least for the next 2 weeks when the doctor considers me full term.

But then, Mr. M threatens to tell on me to Mrs. C, my BFF, who will kick my butt from here to Timbuktu.

Anyway. Here's to hoping we have another few weeks of being Lentil-free. Apollo Puppy has injured himself, and is a handful.

Insanity

The Lists that I have been so proud of myself for keeping are beginning to drive me insane. When I think of something that needs doing, I put it on the list. The funny thing is, why don't I just go do it...right then and there? Wouldn't this kill the need for lists?

Not so.

Up until a few weeks ago, I refused to keep a list. If something needed doing, I just did it, no ifs ands or buts. Unless, of course, it involved something toxic to Lentil, or doing it outside in the extreme heat we've had in our neck of the woods this summer. Mr. M came home once to find me curled up in bed crying because I was so tired of being stuck inside in the air conditioning. I'm seriously done with this heat.

Ahh. Hold on. This is yet another bone I must pick with society in general. People seem to think that a pregnant belly is public property, and therefore must touch it. Do NOT touch my tummy unless I know you, and have given you permission. The only exception is if I broke this golden rule myself and touched your tummy without permission. I also have a HUGE problem with negative and pessimistic people who have begun telling me how horrible this last stretch of pregnancy (no pun intended) is going to be. Sample conversation:

Person: "So, Mrs. M, how are you feeling these days?"

Mrs. M: "Thanks, I feel great. Asides from the random heartburn, I can't complain. Take away the humidity, and I'd be outside in a jiffy."

Person: "Wow, just wait. You'll get to a point that you can't wait any longer to have this baby, and you'll start feeling fat and hot and miserable."

First off, who the hell said that pregnancy has to be one big dosage of Misery? I'm sorry if I offend you, but I have fully ENJOYED my pregnancy. First trimestre was tough with the lethal flatulence, peeing all the time and exhaustion. Second trimestre was great. Third trimestre is great, as well. Yes, I STILL have the same lethal flatulence. The heartburn can get really painful and annoying at times. I swell up a bit when it's humid outside. I forget almost everything. And....yes....my tummy is really big (although from what I've heard, it could be bigger!). I never even once got nauseated. Ok. I take that back; when I'm hungry, I get a little nauseated. But - I never threw up. Lentil has NEVER tortured me to the point that I'm sick. Lentil likes to retaliate for something he/she didn't like by giving me heartburn.

So. The moral of the story? I LOVE being pregnant. I can't bloody wait to do it again**.

**DISCLAIMER: Give us a few years, though. We want to be in a home we own, instead of rent, before we have Number Two.

So, people, please...kindly...I beg you...to stop telling me how much I'm going to suffer these last few weeks. Let me enjoy them. Let me bask in my happiness. I adore the little life growing inside of me who happens to be stealing my food, my nutrients, and also...making the moons in my toenails pink. This little life who loves to stretch out and kick/punch in the middle of the night - startling me into consciousness. I wouldn't trade this for the world.

Also. While I'm complaining about negative and pessimistic comments. Please stop telling me that I "won't be able to take the pain of labour". I don't know about you, and I don't know how painful it is (obviously), but I do know that I have a crapload of confidence in my ability to do anything I put my mind to. Don't forget, we have that Big Surprise of finding out if Lentil is a girl or a boy at the end of it all. For me, there will be a double light at the end of the tunnel. No, I'm not kidding myself into thinking that the pain will be non-existent. I know it will be painful. But to some it's tolerable, and to others, it was unbearable. But I plan on delivering Lentil without painkillers, and hopefully without a single 'medical intervention'. Mr. M and I have been preparing for this for a looong time. So please don't tell me I'm naive and going into this unprepared and all that. It's truly offensive.

While I'm on this tirade. STOP telling me that I don't know human suffering until I have a newborn. STOP telling me to sleep now because I won't sleep for 16 years once Lentil is here. STOP making yourself sound as though motherhood was the worst thing that happened to you. I obviously realize that newborns will be hard work. Motherhood is hard work. But I also realize that your situation is what you make of it. And to those who didn't sleep for 16 years? That sounds like a bloody personal problem. If parenthood were so physically demanding, the human race would have died out centuries ago. At the very least, we are so lucky to be parents in this day and age - with the advent of safety technology, medical science on our side and the internet; have all made parenting a lot easier, than let's say, for our parents. Babies and children haven't changed much in the last few generations - but what we know about them has changed.

I'm not expecting parenthood to be puppies and rainbows. If it turns out that we have an easy baby/child, then so be it, and we will count our blessings. But if we have a tough baby, we sure as hell won't be cursing the day I peed on a stick. We know that life will be full of ups and downs, difficulties and others. We don't need it permanently inked on our foreheads.

I guess the point of this entire post is: stop being a bloody pessimist! I can't stand being around people like that - and Mr. M is quickly becoming weary of them himself...and we all know he has the patience of a saint.

Life is what you make of it. Don't underestimate the power of personal choice. Knowledge is power. This is why I do all the research I can get my hands on. This is why I have written a simple, short and sweet birth plan for my doctors and nurses. This is why Mr. M and I have decided to do things OUR way. We have done the research, read the books. We take what we want, and mix it all together. Will we make mistakes? Hell yes. Plenty of them. But mistakes are meant to be learned from, and if we don't make them, how will we learn? Let us embark of this journey and adventure called parenthood as a unit, as a couple...suggestions will be welcomed, weighed, thought of. If we like it, we will try it out. If not, don't be offended.

Also. NOBODY other than Mr. M, the doctors and nursing staff at the hospital are to be allowed in our hospital room before I deliver Lentil. This will be OUR moment. We want it to stay that way. And please don't be offended should we wait a few hours to allow visitors once Lentil arrives. Let us have that bonding time as parents.

Random thoughts

There are a few different blogs I read - namely, they are written by fellow Bumpies. In case you're wondering, a 'bumpie' is someone who frequents www.thebump.com, and utilizes said site's message boards. A lot of times, we are the girls who swore by www.theknot.com while planning our weddings, and therefore, were on www.thenest.com after tying the knot.

Since Mr. M and I are not very 'normal', and it just so happened to be that we got knocked up before we got married, I first belonged to the Bumpie group, then the Knottie and will always receive email reminders as a Nestie, to remember my husband's favourite dish; as well as step by step instructions on how to host the perfect multi-family get-together.

These boards are a lot of fun, and the Bumpies have provided me with some much-needed laughter, support and sometimes correct information throughout my pregnancy. Unfortunately for me, sometimes I feel pretty isolated from the rest of the world since I live so far away from my friends, and have no family in the area...I see my friends every chance I get, but they have their lives and families - it's tough to ask for more.

Anyway, onto other matters.

I've realized that I need lists. LOTS of them. I have a to-do list for the little post-wedding get-together we're hosting this weekend. I have a to-do list for cleaning. I have a to-do list of things to ask our landlord to fix. I also have an All Things Lentil To-Do List. I have a Master To-Do List. This being said, I need to add a few things to the Master To-Do List: Apollo seems to have lost his rabies tag, along with his name tag...please don't ask me how. So I need to call the vet for a replacement rabies tag, go to Petsmart, and make him a new name tag, and then go to Town Hall to re-register him in our current town. If I don't have lists, nothing gets accomplished because if I don't write it down, I forget about within ten minutes.

In honour of Lentil being 6 weeks away from being fully baked, I will actually admit that Mr. M found stretch marks on my tummy the other day. I'm quite upset...and a bit curious. I've been pretty good throughout my pregnancy about rubbing cocoa butter on my tummy every day after my shower. I mean, the marks look like they may be pretty superficial instead of the deeper ones I've seen on other people. Let's hope they fade. People, cross your fingers for me!

Mr. M is officially back in school now, so this means I will more than likely be more available to blog. Here's to more blogging in the home stretch!