Tag Archives: Pregnancy

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And I Thought A Turkey Was What Everyone Wanted for Thanksgiving

It’s Friday again, and this week I decided to skip ahead and embarrass myself with the story of how the 18-year-old me told my family they were going to have another grandchild.

I had every intention of inviting my mother out to eat at the hotel I worked at to tell her. At first, I just got too busy taking every shift my bosses would let me take in every part of the hotel to make money that I knew I’d need for my bundle of joy. Then it was getting too late and I figured by avoiding it this long, I would’ve made the situation worse for us. Not only would I have shamed them from getting in that position to begin with, I hid it from them for so long. I knew I had to do it, but we were all young and stupid once.

Originally my first son’s due date was on Christmas Day. Soon they realized he was a month older than they thought and gave him the due date of November 29th, the day after Thanksgiving that year. In my gut, and I told everyone, that my son was destined to be born on a holiday. I knew he’d be that “look at me I’m here” personality. (I’d like to say, 10 years later he still is that personality.) I didn’t think women had instincts that were right about that, so I agreed to Thanksgiving dinner with my family and since my huge stomach couldn’t be hid at that point, I realized I could just say “don’t hate me, it’s Thanksgiving” and be done with it. Of course, that’s never how things work out.

At 4am Thanksgiving morning, contractions came 5 minutes apart for 2 hrs. After being examined I wasn’t ready and I just walked around, running up and down stairs before realizing I had to make the call. Shortly after something I won’t mention happened, but a sign you’re about to pop a kid out, I called my parents and while the conversation does sound like something out of a sitcom, I assure you it’s 100% true. Everyone still laughs at me for it, but I’m me.

“Mom, I’m pregnant, I won’t make it to dinner.”

“Well we knew this would happen, just come by and we’ll talk about it.”

“No, mom…. I can’t, I need to go to the hospital. He’s coming.” I informed her where and went off to face the culmination of these last 40 weeks happen.

It wasn’t the blow out I expected. I realized I was stupid in not just saying something sooner, and my mother held my hand when my first-born son came into the world. Aside from my brother considering killing my son’s father, nothing eventful happened. 1  hour after the phone call, there was a new child in the world unaware of anything that happened before that point in time. Thankfully, we all realized that nothing before that really mattered. Everyone was happy, and while my family still never let’s me forget my stupidity, I think they let it slide now that my son is running around amusing them. Plus, I did tell them pretty much as soon as I found out I was expecting again. Maybe that gave me brownie points.

I don’t regret it. He made me learn a lot even before he could speak. I learned that I wasn’t the settling sort, and did everything I could to make him proud. I didn’t want him growing up in a studio apartment eating rice and whatever food I could get from the state. I wanted him to be proud. Next week, my epiphany and how my life changed from there.

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The Advantages the Second Time Around

I’ve decided my midwife doesn’t lie to me. She told me “you’re going to show sooner, you’re going to be bigger, and it’s not going to be like your first pregnancy at all”. She was right, and I appreciated her honesty and not making me think that I was just getting really fat too soon. She tries not to laugh at my husband, who is guilty of being neurotically overprotective normally and more now that he’s responsible for keeping me extra safe to keep his 2nd child perfectly safe. I have to admit it’s a bit endearing when before I ingest anything, he goes on Google to “make sure” everything’s safe. I won’t complain, it’s this sort of neurosis that keeps me in massages and homemade fruit salad.

Lucky for me, I’m told the second time labor is generally much easier. I like the phrase “generally”. It gives me hope that maybe, just maybe, I can sneeze and there he is. My midwife informed me that if I could do it once without an epidural, the second time I won’t likely need one either. No, I don’t have a moral reason for not wanting one nor do I think anyone who has one is less of a woman or a baby when it comes to pain. My reason is more childish: I hate needles. The fact that I hate needles is only worsened by a lack of faith in a medical professional to be that close to my spine without either killing me or paralyzing me or some other unpleasant side effect because I happened to have the doctor who’s working off a hangover. Yes, I’m aware of how irrational and crazy this sounds, but you won’t convince me to change my mind. The unfortunate side of me being irrational and crazy is that I’m also incredibly stubborn.

The biggest advantage is that you know what you’re walking into. You know that your plan doesn’t always pan out the way you planned it, and you lack that anxiety of “what do I do now?” Even better, you don’t have that anxiety of “will I be a good parent?” If you didn’t kill the first one and they ended up basically decent, you’re in good shape this time around. That’s what I keep telling myself anyways. It comes back to you, every part of the labor and first year of being a parent though it sometimes comes back slowly. My midwife informed me when I told her I was afraid I’d forgotten the pain, that I never really forgot and it’ll come back to me quick. I hope she’s wrong on that front though, I would like to never remember how painful it was. If Michelle Duggar is still in pain with the amount of children she popped out, I don’t think there’s any hope for the rest of us.

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Maybe I Can Convince You Now Is A Good Time

I sympathize with people who don’t feel like the process of pregnancy is a blessing. The child is a blessing and worth it, however the process to get there is always less than ideal for most women. I repeat this a lot, and today will be no exception, but people who think pregnancy is a cake walk either is incredibly lucky or lying to themselves. Even the easiest pregnancy has issues, I saw this with my first pregnancy. It wasn’t too miserable, I felt mostly good, and aside from usual aches and pains I had no real complaints how it progressed. It wasn’t flawless, but it was easy enough where when my husband finally convinced me it was time to expand our family I hoped things would be just as fine.

Then it happened, and it wasn’t like the first time at all. The first trimester I’m pretty sure I just slept through, because I remember being that tired. The second trimester hit me, and it was a tease. I felt full of energy and things were good. I slept fine through the night, I kept up with my son’s baseball games and practices fine and things seemed pretty well. I think the second trimester only exists to give you a false sense of relief, only to smack you in the face the minute you enter into the home stretch. Then the third trimester hits and you’re big and only getting bigger. You can’t sleep, because who can really sleep well with a 20 lb. stomach that encases a child that thinks midnight to 4 a.m is the perfect time to kick you all night long. If you sit or lay down too long, every joint in your body feels like you’re 80 years old with arthritis. If you spend too much time walking around, your feet swell up so much you can’t even take off your shoes, and your knees and ankles feel like you’re 80 years old with arthritis. In fact, I’m pretty sure I constantly feel like an 80-year-old with arthritis lately. Also don’t discount how miserable those contractions are, and remember them because when you’re actually in labor they are a million times worse.

I understand the people who don’t quite feel the joys of pregnancy, because sometimes the pregnancy is more tiring than raising a child. Don’t feel bad for feeling miserable or feeling anger towards all your pregnancy books/websites for lying to you about how amazing pregnancy is. Don’t feel like you’re somehow ungrateful for the miracle growing inside your or that you don’t deserve it. Going through it is worth it, and sometimes it helps to remind yourself of that every time you wish that your child would just come now. That doesn’t mean you can’t try to convince your child now is a good time, I know I’m not giving up hope he’ll decide he’s ready or that the doctor was off by a month so I can get back to feeling like me.

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Things I Learned From the News Today

Before I get started, after some thought and convincing from friends, I’ve decided to tweak my format a bit. While I’ll still keep my Monday, Wednesday, and Friday format, the topics will be changing. Monday and Wednesday will still exist as usual, with whatever I feel the need to discuss that day with the recently new focus on current happenings in my life and as a parent/expectant parent. However on Fridays, I’ve decided to focus on my experiences as a teen and single mother. It was brought to my attention that I shouldn’t be wondering where a role model for people in that situation is; I should be someone to step up and be the role model. The only real way to make a change in the world is to be that change. I’ve preached it enough, I should stand by what I say and do it, otherwise what’s the point in asking other people to. My hope is that eventually after sharing my experiences I’ll have enough attention and readers where I can give advice to other people in that same position. With that said, if I do get attention of people in need of honest advice, I’ll be setting up an email for questions or anything else. I’ll answer to the best of my ability on my Friday blogs or a return email or both, depending on what the person wishes. I hope that this succeeds or even helps at least a few people who find themselves in a situation that still is looked down upon in our day of “acceptance”.

Now… to the post.

What I learned from the local news today: Apparently it’s been studies that spanking a child could lead to adult mental illness. I understand that real abuse can, that’s already something that has been proven. But really? A spank on a misbehaving child could lead to mental illness? I’ve done a study too about not spanking your kid. From that study I learned kids that didn’t get spanked also grew up with a mental defect: It’s called “entitled spoiled brat that doesn’t follow rules”. I was spanked, my husband was spanked, everyone I know my age or older was. We weren’t hurt, the sound was the scary part, and it was never done in anger. I think kids need the fear of God in their parents to stay in line, whether you actually spank them or just threaten them and scare them out of their behaviors. It does work. I’m definitely not saying that hitting your kid is something you should do often as a main punishment or to abuse them. But I also think when people complain about how out of control their kids are and how out of control these other kids are growing up to be, we need to reconsider something that has worked in the past. Besides, this could easily be one of those studies like “what causes cancer this week?” Eventually we’re going to learn that cancer is caused by something predestined in our own system as a result of our genetics, and likewise we’re going to learn that kids that were spanked once or twice growing up isn’t the reason they had mental illness but that they were just genetically short-sticked.

What I learned from Anderson Cooper coming out: I don’t think anyone’s shocked, and I’m certain that most people will still love him. I know I do. I also don’t think this is real news, we need to stop focusing on what celebrities are gay. It’s not our business anymore than it is our business that we’re straight. They don’t walk down the street and debate if I’m straight, why should I debate their sexual orientation. I do acknowledge that people like him and Matt Bomer who are normally private about their personal life needed to speak up to show they weren’t ashamed of who they are, but what does that say about our culture that they need to tell the world and be branded as the “gay actor” or “gay journalist” to get people to not be ashamed of who they are and get bullies to accept them.

What I learned from Fox News: This next bit doesn’t just apply to Fox News, all the news organizations are guilty of this. However, I witnessed this on that channel so they get credit in the title. They were doing a segment on a Syrian activist’s funeral in which the Syrian government may or may not have bombed. (It’s not my place to say either way, it’s irrelevant to the point.) They show a clip where the body is being paraded through the center in celebration of the activist’s work, when all you see is an explosion and smoke and chaos. I remember growing up and they wouldn’t even show the bodies that were uncovered in Iraq from Saddam Hussein’s genocidal regime. All the bodies were blurred out, and they spoke over as they scanned the area. The blurred images were enough to show how awful of a person he was. Flash forward to last Olympics when the luger died on impact hitting a pole on the way down his track. It was live, so seeing it once couldn’t be avoided. For the rest of the night and week, we rewatched this image so many times that it was stuck in our minds. When did we arrive at a time when the news was worse for our kids to watch than an R-rated gory horror movie with sex and violence? The news should be just that, a source of information for current events. They shouldn’t need to show us horrific images to get more viewers. Let’s get back to reporting the news.

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Some Things Always Stick With You

My last post took me back about 10 years ago, upon discovering I was about to become a statistic or rather a few statistics. As I mentioned last time, I don’t like to be labelled. But here I was 18 staring at a test staring back at me with the realization that I wasn’t going to be able to avoid any labels anymore.  To this day, I’m not sure if it was the label or the experience that terrified me the most though I’m pretty sure it was the label. I was fortunate that I had a stable enough job even as low paying as it was and was well liked, so they didn’t mind letting me work all the overtime I had the energy for both before my son and after.

What amazed me was that I went to look for books and articles in parenting magazines for something I could relate to, and I found nothing. What’s worse than thinking you’re alone, is realizing that you have nothing to prove you wrong. Logically, I knew even from school that I wasn’t the only teenager who ended up in this place of pending motherhood. I read magazine after magazine hoping to read an article about someone my age or even someone alone in the process to write something I could relate to. Instead, I found articles about how to include your partner or how adulthood changes when you become a parent. What about me? What about how much more difficult it is to be a teenager and become a parent, whether you’re 15 or 18 like I was. Or at least something that didn’t make me feel like I was less than every other parent out there wanting to do what’s best for their child. Even now all I really see is that you get a TV show about being a pregnant teen and realize that the “role models” are terrible for other teens that find themselves in that mess, and worse that it sets a bad example for those teens who step up and make something out of their situation. Why can’t they show that not all teen moms are train wrecks waiting to happen (or currently is). Some of us work our butts off to do the best we can and go to college and try to succeed in life. This applies to single mothers, they shouldn’t feel like they need to give up on their life and work minimum wage or not at all.

Even in today’s age, I think single and teen mothers are seen in a negative light. Prominence of them doesn’t mean acceptance. Someday I can hope that just because the situations aren’t ideal, doesn’t mean we should ignore it like it doesn’t exist. These parents need just as much relatable information as every other parent does without the fear of judgement about the situation they are in. They get enough judgement from people in the real world, they don’t need it from so-called parenting experts. I hope someday someone with the means to offer such a publication should reach out. I’m all for prevention, but sometimes even all the prevention in the world, you need to accept things do happen.

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From Behind Those Thin Walls

I remember having problems growing up with my “lady week”. Finally during a doctor’s appointment with my pediatrician, my mother asked her about it. Rather than referring me to the OB/GYN office, I remember the doctor saying “no need, she’ll never have kids anyways”. It didn’t shatter me as much as I’ve seen people on TV shows when they are told this. I never dreamed of being identified by who I was associated with. I wasn’t “_____’s girlfriend”, I was Brianne. So the idea of not having to be defined by who my children were or who my husband was, actually relieved me. Marriage and children weren’t a priority in life, it wasn’t something I aspired for. I aspired to be a writer, write some short stories and plays. If I got married and had kids, then fine. If not, I didn’t think it would be something earth-shattering to me.

Then, I had my first son and that changed. I realized my problem wasn’t with having kids; my problem seemed to be getting along with kids that weren’t mine. It does give a certain purpose, even if you’re 19 and a single mom. He was a blessing, and I treated him as a miracle because he was never supposed to have existed. Even though the doctor was obviously wrong, when my husband and I started talking about having kids I began to worry that maybe she was right and my son was just a miracle child. I made sure he knew that it might not happen for us, and 2 months after stopping the pill we were excited to announce that we were expecting.

Since then whenever I come across a show where people are having fertility problems or other complications with their pregnancy, I get sad and feel guilty. I wasn’t even supposed to have one, and now I’m on my second perfectly easy and healthy pregnancy. I’m reminded of this when I overhear things in the doctor’s office. When I see tears on a woman’s face because she was just told that he baby was either going to be born with problems or not even make it that far. Or the idea of having to terminate a pregnancy because of complications. This makes me feel guilty too, and I know it’s nothing I can control. But it doesn’t make me feel less guilty about the idea of “what makes me more worthy to have an easy time with it, when these nice seeming people have all these complications”.

I usually take a deep breath and decide not to question the good things. Every pregnant woman or mother or especially a combination of both has enough to worry about. Feeling guilty for things that are beyond  your control just adds stress to one of the most stressful times of your life. Plus, I’m sure they would rather not have “pity” for their situation either. We should just be thankful for the good things in our life, because it could always be worse.

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When Pregnancy Meets Summer

I’m a bit of a wuss when it comes to heat. I’ve fainted more than a handful of times due to the heat, and it’s not ever even all that hot. I’m fairly certain my body just slowly starts shutting down when it hits 75 degrees, and for every 10 degrees after that I become more miserable. I apologize, I don’t just get more miserable. I become incredibly intolerable as well. I’m a January baby, I love the cold. If whatever means controls the world had wanted me to be a summer baby, they would’ve made me a little less gingery and a little more into beaches and pools.

Last pregnancy, I wasn’t very big at all during the pregnancy only gaining about 10 lbs maybe at most. The summer only bothered me as much as summer normally bothers me. This summer I’m shamefully admitting being an extra 30somethinglbs of baby, and it’s not comfortable at all. In fact, I would rank it pretty low on my comfort scale. I think that my plan on having a child during a time when it can have a party it can enjoy without fear of snow or being too cold backfired on me. Sure he gets a pool party, but I get to sweat through all 5 of my maternity shirts and wish I could just sit around in my underwear in front of my AC, nicely nestled against my bed. Maybe I should get a mini-fridge for there too, so I could just stay in my bedroom all summer long and wait this fetus out.

I can probably take comfort that I’m not the only miserable pregnant woman fighting 90+ degree weather, but I’m a New Englander. I’m used to snow and rain and awful weather, while crying about how humid our summers are wishing to move to Alaska. I won’t go to Alaska though, I saw 30 Days of Night. There’s a political joke in there somewhere, but I’m not touching it. Just like I’m not touching a vampire. Twilight was wrong, vampires aren’t sparkly they just look that way as you transform into one of them. They are just as uninteresting as the movies make them out though.

So while pregnancy books all say “go out and swim and keep hydrated in this heat”, I’ll deal with this my way. I’m going to alternate between laying next to my AC and an ice tub filled bathtub, while wanting to migrate to Canada. If you nuts can go south for the winter to stay in summer heat, I can go north to frenchieland to keep winter. I’d take a fjord over a beach any day.

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A Letter To My Unborn Child

Dear Fetus,

Your father and I are overjoyed by the idea of your presence. I’m certain that it was an incredibly happy day when he found out he was going to be a father again. We’ve watched you grow for 29 weeks and it’s been a miraculous journey. However, it occurs to me you’re getting overcrowded in there and sharing a body with another person has become uncomfortable for me too. I would like to propose a small list to make these last few weeks more enjoyable for both of us, because I’m certain that your life will be miserable otherwise.

1) We need to discuss your sleeping. I know that I’m a bit of an insomniac normally, but since pregnancy I’ve grown used to sleeping at night. That was until you decided your prime time for activity occurs during my prime time for sleeping. I’d like you to consider changing your time of activity to daytime so I’m not too tired to feed us both. Cereal is not filling enough, and I’m too self-conscious to go for seconds.

2) I know we all have certain positions we like to sleep in. I appreciate that, except I don’t appreciate that your favorite sleeping position is on the major nerve on either side of me. I enjoy walking, I enjoy not having a searing pain shooting down to my toes. My theory is that this wouldn’t be an issue if you were to change the time of your sleeping. Let’s be reasonable, compromise is something all roommates need to work out.

3) Finally, no I don’t like pepperoncinis, buffalo wings, or artichoke hearts in oil. Don’t make me want them and make me regret ignoring you after, it’s not happening. This proves you already are your father and brother but since neither of them are carrying you, you’re going to have to just deal with it.

With these few requests, I hope that we can learn to live out these next 10 weeks in peace. I promise to continue to make sure your large appetite is well fed with food that doesn’t make me want to vomit. Let’s work in harmony to make this enjoyable for the both of us, because when you’re born I know that we’ll both live in chaos for the first few weeks. A nice, well-rested mother before labor will benefit us both.

Love always,

Mom

P.S. You can’t keep kicking people who “invade your territory”. The doctors need to hear  your heart and see you, and they think you’re a silly little ham of a boy. I think you’re just being a pain in the butt. Prove me wrong.

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Worst Expectations

I have a problem with expectations. Granted I have a problem with a lot of things, so that probably doesn’t shock you much. I blame this on the cynic in me, the part of me that believes the minute you allow yourself to believe something good that the universe finds a way to screw it up. The rest of me doesn’t fare better in this aspect, even the most optimistic part of me. Yeah, that optimistic part of me I pretend I have when things go wrong and I need to assure everyone else everything is ok.

What’s my problem with expectations? In truth, I think one of the worst things you can do in life is go into a situation with expectations. I’m not suggesting you go in with complete ignorance and end up surprised what you’re walking into. I would never suggest a surprise because I hate surprises. For instance, when you vote you’ll ideally know the candidate you want to vote for based (hopefully) on the informed decision you make. However, don’t expect he’ll keep his promises because he’s a man and they lie. (That was a joke.) The real reason is because he’s a politician and they lie.

The main point is expectations on pregnancy, labor, and the result: the child. The worst thing you can do is expect that “you got this” and go in there blind. Even worse, going in there and expecting “I’ve done my research, this is my birth plan and I’m sticking to it”. Why not? Because in life, you can’t expect anything because anything can happen. Sure you might go in expecting that the knowledge made you invincible and that because you’re informed, you can do it without pain medicine. You know what statistically is more likely to happen? You’re going to beg anyone who will listen for relief. If you go in expecting a calm water birth, you’ll probably end up with a scalpel cutting out your insides.

I know you’re probably thinking, “what’s your plan?”. I’m a “just go with it” type of person. I researched what medicine I’d want if I wanted it, and made sure I was ready for any situation that I could come across. Do I want an epidural? I managed the first time without it, I’d like to not have it this time either because I don’t trust anyone with a needle near my spine. In fact, I generally expect the worst. For instance, I imagine this one will be a colicky pain in my butt. If he ends up as angelic as the first one? Well I’ll be pleasantly proven wrong and I’m ok with that.

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Where Did The Time Go?

It seems like yesterday I was my normal skinny self starting my long list of Christmas baking that needed to be done, and on a whim based on my female dog Zoey acting funny around me, I took a pregnancy test without any expectations. Now, it’s 7 months and my husband and I have already established a sappy bond to this fetus we haven’t met yet. Then after all that excitement passes and you start seeing your collection of baby supplies grow, you get that moment of “oh crap” realizing you have 2 months to prepare if you’re lucky enough to go on your due date.

I sat staring at my assorted supplies and realizing that I’m not ready. Emotionally, I’m definitely prepared. I mean I’m not ready for it to actually be here, with 2 months it doesn’t seem like I’ll have enough time to get everything I need done. With my shower next month, I need to step it up. By that I mean, I have to go into crazy pregger nag mode on my husband to get stuff done. I’m not going to lie, I’m getting anxious with preparations of setting up the household to accommodate the new addition. That preparations are more unnerving for me than the real process of birth. Last time it was easier, I was smaller and more capable of doing grunt work. This time I can’t even tie my shoes or put on shoes that aren’t slip-ons. This time, I have no control over anything getting done and can only sit back and pray it gets done.

At least I have my birth plan all set. It’s pretty simple and straight forward: unless I can stick a needle in your spine with you hoping you don’t get paralyzed, you’re not doing it to me. It’s simple and to the point I think, and I’m praying since I went sans epidural the first time around that I can repeat this. Also, the fact I was only in active labor for less than an hour last time and they say the 2nd one is easier, that I’m going to just have him slide out. I know, it’s unrealistic, but sometimes you need to let us pregnant women hope. And let’s find a way to safely knock a pregnant women out for a c-section. I don’t like the idea of being awake while watching the shadows of the doctors pulling out my insides to retrieve a stubborn fetus., and I don’t think I’m the only one.

When you get to this point in the pregnancy, the lovely 3rd trimester unless it’s just me, that you’re less excited about the idea of the newborn baby in your eyes and alternate between “get this thing out of me” and “I’m not ready for this”. You can still revel in the fact that you can eat what you want, and if you’re lucky like me, take advantage of the massages your partner is willing to give. Just focus on what you need to get done, and then allow yourself time to sit back and imagine the newborn about to take over your life. It’s worth it, and after all you go through to get them here, it better be.