A Pregnant Pause

So, it’s been a while. Trying to sum up all that has happened over the past month, since Oren’s birth, is totally daunting – like trying to run a marathon after being on bed rest for weeks on end. But I swear I’ll try my best.

I should start by saying that Oren’s birth was quite wonderful, despite the fact that I was unable to birth naturally, and had to have a second c-section due to low fluids in my uterus. My amazing doctor really took her time, and was incredibly careful and mindful in performing the surgery. My anesthesiologist was a godsend, and calmed my nerves with his incredible bedside manner. And my husband held my hand and talked me through the whole thing, making me feel loved and comforted and amazing. And then – best part of all, of course - Oren arrived - a big, beautiful, bouncing boy who weighed in over 8 pounds. 

My biggest worry, pre-birth, was that Em might be slightly traumatized by the situation – it was only the second time I had spent a night away from Emmy since HER birth, and I thought she might be thrown for an emotional loop when here mama and dada had to spend several nights at the hospital. All my worrying was really for naught. Em did so well – having “sleep overs” with her Baba and Grampy, and spending time bonding with my parents, her Sabi and Savtah. I was so proud of my girl, and how resilient she was to change, even when it came without much preparation or notice.

And now our lives are forever changed. It’s funny. After Emmy was born, I often tried to think back to what life was like for C and I in our pre-Emmy days, and it was REALLY hard to remember what it felt like and what we did with all our time! Now, just weeks after Oren’s birth, I try to remember what life was like when it was just the three of us, and I feel like I have amnesia. What were our evenings like when we weren’t running around the house in a constant state of semi-chaos, trying to meet the needs of TWO kids? Why in the world did we think THAT life was exhausting? 

I’ve got to be honest. The biggest, most overwhelming feeling I’ve experienced since becoming a mom of two (besides that sense of enormous, ridiculous love) is GUILT. When I spend time alone with Emmy, I feel so guilty about NOT spending time with Oren. I feel guilty that I am unable to give Oren the kind of attention I was able to give Emmy when she was a newborn and was our only child. When I spend time nursing and holding Oren, I feel like I am being a neglectful mom to Emmy, and miss the days when I could focus on her in a complete and total way. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. 

I’ve told C that this is definitely going to be the biggest challenge for me. I mean, I can manage the balancing act of feeding a two year old while changing a baby’s diaper and preparing dinner (kind of). But figuring out the emotional balancing act – how to be “ok” with mothering to the best of my abilities, and not beating myself up for not being 100% mom to each of my kids ALL OF THE TIME – THAT is going to be the real task.

There is much more to write of course. Many more details of how each of us is adjusting to life as a family of four. But I have to save some material for tomorrow’s blog post.

Any words of wisdom to offer? I would love to hear any advice, thoughts, etc.

T Minus 2.. or 3... or 9...

So, these last days leading up to the baby’s estimated due date have been quite the emotional whirlwind for me.

Of course, like every other mama on the brink of giving birth, I have been totally anxious to feel the beginnings of labor, or receive SOME sign that the baby has decided to make his way into this world. And like every other wishful VBAC mama, I have been especially anxious, hoping that this baby’s birth might be different from my first baby’s.  In search of giving my son the gift of a natural labor, I have eaten lots of pineapple, bounced up and down on a bouncy ball, taken several long walks… I have talked to the full moon, prayed, and given myself many a pep-talk about how I CAN in fact give birth.

I have also told myself that if push comes to shove (or perhaps, more well-stated, if push DOESN’T come to SHOVE), and I need to have a second c-section in order to birth this baby, so be it. It will still be miraculous, and amazing, and will still bring us a son (god willing) that we can kiss and hug and surround with love. We have a c-section scheduled for 8 days post due date. While doing this doesn’t give us the full 14 days post due date that my midwives would normally allow, it might (again, hopefully) prevent us from running into an emergency c-section scenario similar to the one I went through with Emmy.

So this kid is “on the clock,” so to speak. He’s got 9 days to get down and get busy, and help me bring him into this world. And I’ve got the same 9 days to stay positive and keep my mind and body strong.

I do know that if I make it all the way to next Wednesday night without having gone into labor, I am going to ask my husband for a few minutes (or maybe a few more than a few minutes) to myself so that I can have what I imagine will be a well-needed sob session, allowing me to get the sadness and disappointment at not being able to birth naturally out of my system. As much as I have tried to prepare myself for the possibility of needing a second c-section, I know that if it becomes an actuality, I am going to have some real, deep sadness about it, and I want to just give myself the time and space to feel it without hesitation. Then I will wash my face, and ask my husband to take me out for a nice romantic dinner so I can clear my head, relax, and try not to stress too much about the operation that will take place the next morning.

But maybe it won’t come to that. Maybe (again, hopefully) I can go into natural birth. Nine days is a long time. Anything can happen between now and next Thursday, really.

In an effort to not put too much stress on myself, and to help myself NOT focus on the ticking clock, or every little movement in my uterus, or the possibility of what may or may not be, I am trying to focus on the right now. I am trying to concentrate on appreciating the relative simplicity of being a parent to one child. I am trying to make sure I breathe in these last few days of being able to focus my mama love on Emmy. And I am acknowledging that as much as I cannot WAIT for this baby’s arrival, part of me will totally miss THESE days, where it is just me, my husband, and my beautiful little mooshkatoo.

Ugh, there I go, crying again. T-2, or 3, or 9… it’s just such an emotional time.

You Know You Are a Mama When...

 

You wake up in the morning and discover a glittery foamy sticker on your belly button.

Sitting at your desk, you discover yourself softly humming the opening number from the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse tv show.

The word “stiletto” is no longer in your vocabulary.

Your idea of a fancy dinner is one where you actually get to chew your food.

You start thinking “I gotta go potty” instead of “I have to use the ladies’ room.”

Your current hairstyle is “3 day old ponytail.”

You start wondering if there really ARE monsters hiding in the closet.

Your breakfast consists of the half-bitten pieces of muffin your child would not consume.

Your co-workers have sweetly nicknamed you “germfest.”

You spend much of your time daydreaming about creative ways to stain-guard your entire wardrobe.

Your grocery list is written in sky blue crayon, on yellow construction paper.

You current style icon is Fluttershy from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.

You have justified the marker lines on your living room walls as “post-modern art.”

You have more “toy food” in your house than real food.

You use the word “nirvana” and “naptime” interchangeably.