Fortunately, the non-stress test and the ultrasound we had this week show that the baby seems to be doing fine, so at least I don’t have to worry about that point (and he’s still a boy, which is also good to hear). But as we get closer and closer to Monday — the day they’ll want to induce me — I’m starting to get more and more anxious for labor to start on its own.

The really annoying thing about not going into labor by your due date is that people constantly feel the need to comment on it or ask about it. I know they’re just being nice, but I really don’t feel like talking about it since I’m frustrated enough with the thoughts in my own head. While I like my neighbors, I purposely tried to avoid them (unsuccessfully) on my walk today because I just didn’t want to talk about how I haven’t had the baby yet. I hate feeling so anti-social, but I really am getting sick of answering questions about how late I am and all that.

Not surprisingly, all of these things are making me rather cranky as Adam can attest. I know I’m taking things out on him sometimes, but, to be blunt, he should consider himself lucky for not being on my end of things. To have uncomfortable and painful contractions all day, to feel big as a house, to have a nasty cold, to be exhausted because you just can’t seem to get enough sleep, and to be worried about how long it’s taking for this baby to get the show on the road is much worse than having someone crab at you. While he has lost his patience a few times, he’s been taking very good care of me and deserves a medal for managing to stay positive.

It’s funny… during this pregnancy, I put so much thought and concern into what would happen when I was in labor (what I wanted, didn’t want, etc.). It never occurred to me that going into labor period was going to be the major issue. At this point, I just want to have a healthy baby and I don’t care what it takes to make that happen. I’d really rather avoid a c-section, but induction is actually starting to look appealing, even though it would probably lead to a cascade of other things I don’t want (like an epidural, which scares the living daylights out of me, being a person pathologically afraid of needles, especially those going into one’s SPINE!). #1 for me right now is meeting my baby and I will accept whatever it takes to make that happen.

By Friday night, though, I felt much more ready to have the baby. And maybe that made a difference, because I started having contractions Saturday night. They started coming every 20 minutes, then 15, then 10, and after about 6 hours (at 3am-ish), they were 7 minutes apart. For a good part of the night I couldn’t sleep as I was so excited (it was like that “night before the first day of school” feeling you get when you’re little), but I tried to force myself to sleep around 4am, figuring that I needed as much rest as possible, and as the contractions became more intense, they’d wake me up. When I woke up around 8am, I was still having the occasional contraction, but they were random, less intense, and much more sporadic. Boo.

Flash forward to Sunday evening, when I started having much more intense contractions, 15 minutes apart, for over 3 hours. These were so painful that sometimes I couldn’t even stand up during them. I figured, ok, these really hurt, this must be the real deal. Adam and I decided to try and sleep around 10:30, since we figured we’d end up needing to go to the hospital in the early morning hours. When I woke up to use the bathroom around 2am, I was having some contractions, but they were really mild and randomly spaced; nothing like the ones before. Sigh…

I don’t mind waiting for Reed to come. I can be patient. But this is driving me nuts. To get all revved up and excited, thinking this is it!, only to find that it isn’t, is incredibly frustrating. I know the contractions are doing something in that they’re making my cervix more dilated and effaced, but it’s definitely a let-down when it doesn’t progress beyond that. I won’t get my hopes up tonight if I have more contractions. Probably when I’m really in labor, I’m not even going to believe it. It’ll be like the boy who cried wolf. Until my water breaks or we see Reed’s head, I’m not going to buy into the contractions.

I’ve tried most of the things people suggest you try to stimulate labor (though nothing will make me go near castor oil) and the “baby chicken” was apparently a bust as well. I think I’m just going to focus now on relaxing, eating healthy, and not worrying about going into labor (or not going into labor). Reed will come when he’s ready to come and if he doesn’t in the time-span my midwives say is acceptable, I’ll just have to accept the medical interventions I did not want. Again, it’s not in my hands, and I feel like all of these old wives tales about what stimulates labor only have the effect of making people feel like there’s something they can do, which consequently makes them feel like failures when those things don’t work (or they believe they worked when really, their labor would have started then either way). Every legitimate scientific thing I read tells me that something the baby does stimulates labor, so the ball is completely in Reed’s court, and I’m just going to make myself as comfortable and relaxed as possible until he decides he’s ready to make his appearance.

When I exclaim in wonder about their coming to the same restaurant, the waitress says to me “oh she must be the one ordering the ‘baby chicken.’” The what now? Apparently, they have this chicken dish that isn’t on the menu, but has supposedly made a number of women go into labor after eating it. I guess at 9 days overdue, Toni is ready to try anything to get that baby moving (though my mom went 9 days overdue with me and everything turned out just fine). So our wonderful meal ended up being even more wonderful with Toni and Allen sitting next to us. I just can’t get over the coincidence that we both chose to go to the same restaurant at the same time and that the restaurant I chose almost randomly has something called a “baby chicken.” What are the odds?!?!?

The meal was seriously delicious (the restaurant could hold its own anywhere in the country, including Sonoma), and while I didn’t have the “baby chicken,” we did make another reservation for Friday in case I haven’t delivered by then.

Some days, I feel ok with waiting a while for the baby to come. If I’ve slept well and am not in too much discomfort, I figure I could be happy going for another week or so. Last night though, with the baby deciding to use my bladder as a punching bag for 2 hours in the middle of the night (and I can’t even begin to describe how jarring that pain is), I was definitely feeling ready to evict him. But most of the time, I don’t feel desperate to get this baby out of me! like some women do.

Friday was my last day of work. I’d saved up 9 vacation days since I wasn’t sure how I’d be feeling or how prepared we’d be for baby towards the end. While we’re prepared and have Reed’s room just so (at least we think we do!), that last week of work was brutal. I was so uncomfortable and exhausted that I can’t even fathom how I could have done another week (given my theory that my due date is actually this Friday). I know some people take part of their maternity leave a few weeks before the baby is due, and I was definitely torn between wanting to rest before baby and wanting to maximize my time with him. So having those 9 days to pack in before my maternity leave officially begins (April 17) was a good idea. Then, even if the baby is very late, I’ll still have 8 weeks with him before I start going back 2 days/week.

My midwife suggested wine, spicy food, pizza, and sex to spur on labor (along with walking, but it’s been cold and rainy for days now). If that isn’t the best prescription I’ve ever been handed by a medical professional, I don’t know what is! We’re going out for Thai food for lunch, so that will definitely cover the spicy. And I just had my first glass of wine in a very long time (we sprung for a really delicious Acacia pinot noir that we hadn’t had in years and years). I’m just hoping that people don’t treat me like a watched pot, because it will drive me nuts. My colleague was due 9 days before me (and hadn’t given birth as of Friday), and every day, I had people at work asking me if she’d given birth yet. I didn’t want to bug her every day, because I knew how I’d feel if people did that to me. I told the folks at work that Adam would post to this blog when I was in labor so people could just check here to know if the baby was on the way. So no need to wonder — if there’s no news on this blog, then you can assume there’s no news.

People keep asking me if I’m “ready.” I’m not even sure what that means. Do I have diapers and the basic things a baby needs? Yes. Do we have 2 weeks-worth of food in our freezer? Yes. Do I feel ready to have my life change? Yes (it’s not like we have a wild and crazy lifestyle to give up). Do I feel ready? I guess I’m ready as I’ll ever be, but it doesn’t mean that I actually feel ready. Not having much experience (read: any experience) with babies, I know that first month is going to be really hard. I’m lucky that Adam will be home with me and plans to do as little with work as he can during that first month. We’ll also have a post-partum doula come a few times in the first couple of weeks just to provide help and encouragement. I think it’s just fear of the unknown and not knowing how I will deal with everything (with crazy hormonal changes AND a little person completely dependent on me) that makes me feel less than ready. But I know that we’ll get through it and after a month or so it will all become routine. Again, it’s the not knowing that gets me. Were I doing all this without Adam, I’d be a basket case, but together, I know we can do anything.

Off to our Thai lunch in Montpelier. Maybe this will be it! Or not. Stay tuned…

The whole “having a baby” thing has definitely become more real this week. We installed Reed’s carseat bases on Friday and last weekend I packed our bags for the hospital, wrote up my birth plan/preferences (the term birth plan seems ridiculous to me, as it’s clearly something you can’t plan out), and created some checklists for Adam to make sure we have everything ready before we leave for the hospital. While I’m definitely ready to evict Reed from his cozy little home, the whole idea of being a mother still seems so strange and foreign to me. I was never one of those people who always wanted to be a mother. I love kids and have always related well to them (probably better than with adults!), but I never felt that huge desire to be someone’s mom. I also wasn’t totally against having kids either — I probably could have gone either way. It was being married to Adam that made me want to have a family, but it was so much about my love for him and my certainty that he’d be an amazing dad than from some ticking clock/biological desire thing. I feel so much love and protectiveness for Reed already, so I know that bond is there and will be there when he arrives on the scene. It just feels weird to me that I will be someone’s mother and that someone will be completely dependent on me and Adam for everything. I’m sure the first few months will be an intense and stressful time, but I know we’ll get into the swing of things. Having an amazing husband definitely makes me feel more confident in our ability to make it through that adjustment period.

I have absolutely no idea what to expect with the whole birth thing. My mother had fairly short and easy labors with both me and my brother, so I’m really hoping to take after her. There are just so many unknowns and for someone who likes to control for the unknowns in her life, this is going to be an interesting lesson in surrendering to whatever happens. OMG, so NOT my thing!!! My awesome massage therapist is training to be a childbirth educator (for which she has to observe lots of births) and offered to come to my birth for free and provide comfort, massages, etc. I was sorely tempted, since she is really sweet and a very calming presence, but ended up deciding not to. While I know there will be hospital staff coming in and out throughout the whole thing, I feel like this is a very special time for me and Adam as a couple. And I just don’t know if I’d be as comfortable with someone else there the whole time. On the other hand, a friend of mine is looking to pay someone (a doula) to support her during her labor and delivery. And other women want to be surrounded by lots of friends and family when they deliver. Go figure. I guess it’s all about how we view the birth experience. To me, it’s all about me and Adam and our love for each other, and I’m such a private person that I know I’ll only be able to be myself at that time with him. He is a calming presence for me and I know he’s going to be a great support.

I feel like all of this will be a good learning experience for me. I’ve done so many things over the past few years that have scared the living daylights out of me (public speaking, writing a book, teaching, etc.) and all have made me stronger and have led to better and better things. I know this will be the same, but losing control (over my body, my life, etc.) is really terrifying for someone who has difficulty giving up control even over small things. Were I to analyze my behavior over the past months, I’d say my relentless research on baby products and my getting Reed’s nursery just-so is a last-ditch effort at asserting control, but I am fully aware that I will have very limited control over what will happen in my life over the next few years. It scares me, but just like everything else that has scared me over the past few years, I really do welcome the change, because it comes with so many good things too (like a baby!) and I know I’ll be a better person for it.

Before my disaster, though, I was having the best weekend! I took a half day off Thursday and all-day off Friday to spend with family. Adam’s parents, sister, her kids and her boyfriend as well as my parents came for the weekend for my baby shower. Adam’s best friend from childhood and his wife and adorable daughter also came. It was so nice to see everyone, though definitely a bummer that I couldn’t run around and play with my niece and nephew as much as I could before I got pregnant. It just felt nice to be surrounded by the people I love so close to my due date — it was a warm and wonderful experience.

The wonderful ladies who planned my shower

The shower on Saturday afternoon was so much fun! My mother-in-law, sister-in-law and niece planned the whole thing and since they are masters of style, everything was gorgeous and perfect. When I heard there would be games, I got a bit nervous, having been to a shower once where we were forced to sniff baby food on diapers to guess what the food was (yuck!). But these were cute, light-hearted brain-teasers — perfect for a group mostly made up of librarians! My nine-year-old niece, Maddy, was a terrific master of ceremonies (she is the smartest, friendliest, most amazing 9-year-old in the world). The party really exceeded all of my expectations. Before the shower, I was feeling disappointed that a few friends who didn’t have kids decided not to come, but it didn’t end up making the party any less fun. The people who did come were awesome and it was perfect.

It was definitely a bummer that three hours later I was throwing up and couldn’t enjoy the big family dinner going on, but no amount of sickness could have spoiled what was a wonderful time with family and friends. I might feel like hell at the moment, but I’m extremely cognizant of the fact that I’m a very lucky girl.

This weekend I’m laundering the baby’s linens and newborn and 3-month clothes and putting things in place in the baby’s room. I’m also ordering some shelving and a fridge for the mudroom so we’ll have some extra storage space. Adam’s painting our bedroom, something he’s wanted to do for ages. It’ll be nice having a non-white room and the color we chose is a really soothing blue that should be conducive to relaxation. There’s still a lot to be done, but I’m trying to focus on individual tasks rather than the big picture so I don’t feel overwhelmed.

It’s just hard to believe that we’ll soon have a little baby! When I think about the baby, the thing I’m getting most excited about is having the opportunity to teach him things as he grows and watching him learn. He’s going to be coming out into a world he’s never seen before. Everything will be new. It’s sort of like E.T. only cuter and he probably won’t be able to make my bike fly. I can’t wait to watch him experience things for the first time and see his reaction. I can’t wait to show him things and teach him things and watch him take it all in. I know it’ll be a while before he’s really able to explore the world on his own, but even those first few months are just one developmental milestone after another. I can hardly wait.

Still, I have a hard time picturing what life will really be like with a baby. I keep getting these offers to speak, teach, write, etc. and I’m turning everything down (other than ALA Annual since my in-laws live in Chicago) until 2010 becuase I just can’t imagine how it’ll work. Do I really want to fly to California with a 6-month-old? Probably not. I agreed to teach a class for San Jose State starting in January 2010, but it will require a lot of prep work prior to that, and I’m a little nervous. I assume I’ll be able to juggle it all (lots of people seem to manage), but not knowing what my life will be like with a baby makes me a little apprehensive to take on much responsibility beyond my day-job.

Honestly, I have no idea how I’d have made it through this pregnancy without Adam. He’s been such a gem. He’s taken over nearly all of the housework since I’ve been so exhausted. He’s always willing to pick me up food I’m craving or rub my back when I’m feeling uncomfortable. And he’s been there for me emotionally. The other day when I came home from work, I found roses on the table, a sweet card, and a romantic dinner being prepared. When you’re feeling big, uncomfortable and crappy most of the time, having someone make you feel special can make all the difference. No matter how stressful a day I have at work, I always get a smile on my face the minute I turn onto our street because I know I get to spend the rest of the day with Adam. I am so lucky to have him and I hope he knows how much he means to me.

Break’s over. Back to the laundry!

I actually had a chance to try out my hypnobirthing techniques last week. We were in the car, far from home, and I was having excruciating acid reflux (so bad I could hardly breathe). While Adam rushed us to the nearest supermarket to get me some Zantac (a godsend for pregnant women, let me tell you), I closed my eyes, relaxed my breathing, and went to my “special place.” I focused intensely on everything I was seeing, hearing and feeling in this special place and found the pain from the reflux lessening significantly. When a woman in the car next to us in the parking lot slammed her door, I lost focus and the pain immediately came back. But I was blown away that I could actually use my mind to lessen the pain I was feeling. I’m definitely a believer.

It helps a lot that I found a “special place” I could connect to so easily. In our first class, we were asked to go to a kitchen we remember well from our past (not the one in the home we live in now) and focus on the details of it. I realized that the details of the kitchens of all the houses I lived in growing up were very hazy — I couldn’t remember what the decor looked like, where things were in relation to each other, etc. I even had trouble picturing the kitchen of the house my family lived in from when I was in middle school until 1998, which seems really odd to me. But what I could picture with great clarity was my grandparents’ (mis abuelos) kitchen in the Cattskills. I could feel the texture of the linoleum floor under my feet. I could see the grain of the wood of their cabinets. I could feel the pointiness of the tops of the chairs in the dining room. I could picture their drinking glasses and taste the spring water they collected from a local spring. Every aspect of their home came to me so vividly and allowed me to go there in a way that is very conducive to pain relief.

And what that made me realize is that my grandparents’ home was my special place. It was the place where I felt happiest and most relaxed; from my earliest memories through my college years when I would often drive up on weekends. I was really the only one in my family (other than my grandparents of course) who liked it up there. My parents and brother found it interminably boring. Whether I was picking berries, playing in the creek, taking a walk, or reading a book, I always felt a peacefulness at my grandparent’s house (and with my grandparents) that I never felt anywhere else. In spite of the fact that I was extremely allergic to their house (it was damp and moldy), I always told my mother that I wanted to buy it one day and live there. But it wasn’t really the house. It was my wonderful grandparents. I don’t think I realized until now how powerful a role model they both have been for me. From their loving and companionable relationship to how nurturing and supportive they were towards me and my brother, they really have influenced my views on marriage and how I want to be as a parent. And their amazing and crazy life stories taught me so much about being strong, independent, and not letting anyone tell you what you can’t do.

My abuelo passed away almost two and a half years ago (hard to believe — it still feels so recent in my mind and heart), but my abuela is in her 90s and lives in South Florida right near my parents. I feel so lucky to have her in my life and I can’t wait to take my own little boy down to visit her next Fall.

So, even if hypnobirthing had not worked at all for me, which is far from the case, this realization alone would have been worth the price of admission.

Actually, it is probably true.  I’ve got dozens of lame excuses, but the reality is I’m just not as expressive as Meredith.  

With a new baby on the way, I think Meredith was hoping it would cause a surge of emotion that would clear my writers block and compel me to write my deepest thoughts in this most public of spaces.

So far, no dice.  I’m really excited about being a dad, but I haven’t felt a great need to talk about it online (maybe that’s a guy thing? or just an Adam thing?)   Besides, there’s no way I could say it as well as Meredith!  Just look at the size and depth of her posts! Incredible.

What has impressed me though is the sheer amount of preparation that it takes to get a house ready for a baby.  Seriously, I had no idea.  I was born in an era where cars didn’t have shoulder-belts and “car seat” meant “milk crate”.  Sticking a knife into an outlet was considered a learning experience… like a pre-school science class or something.

But 2009 is different.  After a quick look around it was obvious that our house was child-unfriendly to the max.  It contained (among other things):  

• Unsecured, heavy,  tippy furniture 
• Highly charged and unstably-placed computer equipment strewn all over the house.
• Weights that were barely adult-friendly, let alone baby-friendly.
• A 13-year old car that blew so much smoke it probably shaved a decade off my life,  and airbags that may or may work.
• No bedroom suitable for a baby.  

So, despite being very comfortable with our deathtrap of a house, this past couple of months I set out to be the best dad possible & make real changes.  

The Nursery
The space formerly known as Adam’s Office.  Needed to clean, paint, add new window treatments (and all the furniture.)  Turned out OK, only took a couple of days to do

Nursery: Before! Blech!

Nursery: After! What a difference some paint & carpet makes.

Adam’s Office

Since my office became the baby’s room, I decided to repurpose part of the downstairs as my new office.

Had to build a wall downstairs to enclose the office

The resulting space needed some help.. it was dingy.

More scrubbing, moving, and painting! And they say pregnancy is easy for a man! (BTW, the color is Behr Restful 400F-4, in case anyone got here from a search engine trying to figure out what it looks like on a real wall.)

 

 

Next step:  Fix up the Bookshelves of Death. That’s for another post.   Man, does my back hurt…

I used to be a child and family therapist and dealt with a lot of families where parenting style (or lack thereof) was the biggest problem. Of course that’s not what they’d initially come to me for, but more often than not, fixing their parenting style was the solution (of course, I did have clients who were truly mentally ill, but so many of them weren’t and really didn’t need to be on meds). I’d hear these stories from parents that their child or children are out of control. When I’d ask about discipline there would either be none or it was all emotionally based (screaming, spanking, etc.). Frequently, when I’d visit them in school, I’d hear from the teachers that the kids were doing well. More often than not, the kids were reacting positively to the structure at school and negatively to the lack of structure at home. When the parents were willing to try new ways of parenting (rather than requesting that I wave my magic wand and “fix” their child), there were usually good results. I remember working with a mom who’d been a victim of domestic violence (and felt extremely depressed and hopeless) to implement the 1-2-3 Magic program with her three sons. It was amazing how much her children’s behavior had changed in just a month, and also, how empowered she felt by having the tools to better manage their behavior. It was hard initially, because she wanted her kids to like her and imposing limits pissed them off, but it was worth that painful early effort in the long-run.

I grew up in a home without a lot of structured discipline and, from what I’ve been told and what I remember, I was very independent and a boundary-pusher. Boundary-pushers need to be confronted with consistency and limits so they can learn to regulate their own behavior. Most kids crave those limits and that structure, even if they don’t know it. This is why I did so well in school — because the rules, consequences and rewards were always extremely clear. I never got in trouble there because I could always see what it would take to get into trouble and would studiously avoid crossing that line. At home, I pushed and pushed because there were no clear boundaries. Sometimes I’d get punished for something while another time I would just get yelled at. Sometimes, I’d get punished and then let off shortly afterward, making the punishment rather pointless in terms of teaching me not to do the same thing again.

I’m not saying my parents did it all wrong. My brother and I are both successful in our chosen fields and in our personal lives, so it’s not as if their way of parenting left us scarred for life. They did a lot of great things that I certainly plan to incorporate into the way I parent. The first and most important thing they did was to read to us from Day 1. Almost all of my earliest childhood memories involve books. I can remember my brother and me laying on my parent’s bed for hours at a time while my mom read Tom Sawyer to us. They instilled in me a love of the written word. My parents also encouraged our creativity in so many different ways — from providing clothes for playing dress-up, to providing a video camera for us to make movies, to attending all of our recitals (both at school and the ones we created at home ourselves), to getting us lessons in whatever creative endeavor we were interested in at the time. With their encouragement, I was writing creatively outside of school by the age of 6 (at which time I remember writing a song which was to be sung by Jem and the Holograms! I believe it was called “Kissing in the Sheets” — ok I was precocious!). Also, when I was a teenager, my parents didn’t play the over-protective card. They let me make my own choices and my own mistakes. And I made plenty of mistakes. But, by the time I went to college, I had a pretty good head on my shoulders and avoided a lot of the mistakes friends of mine were making. Many of my friends who’d been really reigned in by their parents during high school went absolutely wild in college because they’d never had any freedom. I’m a big believer that teens who are trusted by their parents are more likely to do the right thing because of that trust. When someone believes in you, you want to prove them right.

But the reality is that I’ll need to tailor my approach to my child. Will he be uber-independent like I was or a “momma’s boy” like my little brother was? If I have a child like myself, I’ll need to work a lot more on setting boundaries and having consistent positive and negative consequences for behaviors. If I have a child like my brother, I’ll need to do a lot more encouraging of his independence, helping him to make his own good choices and not rely on me and Adam so much. If my child doesn’t look to me for guidance in everything he does, I’ll know I’ve done a good job. It’s nice to be needed, and of course a baby needs their parents completely, but I hope to encourage my child to be his own man and make smart decisions for the rest of his life.

More important than anything else is for my child to grow up in an environment full of love, and that’s pretty easy when I’m married to someone I’m even more crazy about now than I was when I first fell in love with him six years ago. My parents fought all the time when I was growing up and it definitely impacted me and my brother negatively. Sometimes people stay in bad marriages “for the kids”, but I don’t believe that children can grow up as healthy if their parents are not happy. I want to raise my child to know what a healthy, loving, affectionate relationship looks like so that he can one day be a great husband himself.

I think you can have all of these ideas set in your head about what sort of a parent you want to be, but the most important thing you can be is flexible and tailor your approach to the child you have (still knowing what sorts of things you want to encourage in your child). When I was a therapist, I never used one treatment model with every client I had. I was always eclectic, tailoring my approach to the individual, their situation and their goals. You can’t decide how to treat someone before you even know them, and I think it’s the case with kids too. So, while I’m glad I’ve given more thought to this than my parents did 31 years ago, I’m definitely ready to be the sort of parent my child needs, whatever that may mean.