My sweet child and me.

My kids both used to struggle with changes. New school year, new camp, new anything was a little tough and needed some extra love and support during those times. It has been a while since I have noticed they needed this extra support, them being nearly 13 and nearly 16. This week though I noticed my youngest might have been struggling.

We were on our way home from lunch after his camp was over and he just seemed off. Being an empath I am extra sensitive to this and I consider it my superpower. When I am right and the person confides in me it is an honor and assures me that this ability truly is a gift. 

So I said it seemed like he had something on his mind and wondered if he wanted to talk about it. After a few I am fines he said he just didn't want to talk about it. Not wanting to push too much I backed off. Although now I knew my sense was right, and that something was bothering him.

You see this was a particularly hard week for me. I experienced a couple of really brutal rejections. I won't go into the details not to be intentionally vague but instead because it doesn't really have much to do with this story. Basically I threw myself into the arena and it did not end the way I hoped it would.

I saw this post on Instagram and as an Enneagram 4 it really resonates with me. I process (i.e. overthink) my rejections not as a way not to control the situation (maybe?🤔) but mostly to truly try to process my feelings. This processing happens a lot when I run.

I always know I will get to that last step of knowing the meaning behind the experience but if I don't go through this processing it can become weeks of darkness and shame, with an unbelievable amount of negative self-talk. 

I was pretty stuck in that first one. I know myself well enough to know that I would get to that last piece of finding meaning eventually but I sure was hanging out in that "intense emotional processing" aka "overthinking" place for a while. 

After backing off on the conversation with my kiddo for a few minutes I looked over at my boy and took a chance. I said:

"Do you know what shame is?

"Oh sure. It's when... well... it's actually hard to describe."

"Yes it is hard to describe. I think of it as when we do or experience something embarrassing and that we are ashamed of."

He nodded.

I went on and channeled Brene Brown's work, "Do you know what's crazy about shame? We think that by being quiet and holding it in that we are staying safe. Maybe staying safe from further embarrassment and more shame that could come from telling someone what happened. But the thing about shame is that when it is silenced it spirals. When we hold it in it goes deeper and deeper into our minds and can rip us apart. The thing about shame is that it cannot survive in the wild. When we share our shame with a trusted person it shrinks and lightens. It's the opposite of what we think."

"I think I better talk about it then."

He went on to tell me what was on his mind. Like the details around my struggles this week it isn't really important. What is important is that this sweet boy in my car was struggling internally and it was eating his gentle heart alive.

He is a deeply feeling highly emotional kid, which is one of my favorite things about him because he reminds me so much of me. But in this world we live in, people with these types of big beautiful emotions are at risk of so much hurt and rejection. It's what causes us to armor our hearts and be terrified to risk the thought of going through that feeling again. We close off the world and those who mean the most to us out of fear and self-protection. I do not want this for my boy. I do not want him stuffed down into his darkness and shame. 

It is through the sharing of the hurt and shame that we feel that frees us. After this talk with my son I called a dear friend who listened intently, validated my feelings, gave me some requested advice and even challenged some of my thought patterns and viewpoints.

The conversation was the final step for me to be able to accept that these rejections have meaning and are either keeping me on or putting me on the path to where my story will go next. Were it not for my friend I may not have made it to that place. At least not as quickly. I am not sure about doubling down on my uniqueness. Maybe that's what this blog is for 😄

After he shared with me what had happened, and I validated his feelings around the rejection he experienced, he said to me:

"I imagine it was probably for the best, and I can trust that it wasn't meant to be."

Way to find that meaning in the experience, buddy.

I also wonder if perhaps his drumming helps him process his feelings like my running does! 

We are cut from the same cloth, my sweet child and me 💖

The Vomit War of 2020

Alternately titled: That One Time the Stomach Flu Made My Son Shit His Pants and the Dog Run Away In the Middle of the Night.

There is a lot of chaos going on in the world right now. COVID-19 (Coronavirus) is wreaking havoc on the world, our country, and my little community. I told this story on my trail run this morning and my friend said I should write a blog about it. I haven’t blogged in a while so I thought, why not? Let’s all have a common laugh over bodily fluids and midnight antics, shall we?

So N has been traveling a lot for work. He left Monday night and we did all the things on Monday and all the things on Tuesday. I fell asleep on the couch at like 8pm, so I woke up at 8:30pm to put the boys to bed. Bedtime is the best time in our house. We snuggled and goodnight kissed and I went straight to bed myself feeling sleepy from the long day. I was prepared for the full night of sleep I am accustomed to now that my boys are so much older.

Then, at about 11:30pm I got the nudge…”mommy, I threw up”

Ugh. “Okay buddy let’s go get cleaned up” We walked into the hallway, he went into the bathroom and I went into his room. I am not sure I was fully prepared for what I was about to see. I clicked on the light to see more vomit than I have ever seen. It was everywhere. The bed, the floor, on his books, on his carpet, on his slippers, under his bed. It was freaking everywhere.

I started cleaning it up not really knowing where to start. I got some cleaning going and walked back into the hallway to see him standing in the bathroom kind of frozen. I turned the light on to see that he had vomit all over his face and hands. He had been standing there for who knows how long, likely unsure of what the heck just happened to his body.

I helped him wash his hands and face and we decided a bath was in order. Then, he turned toward the toilet and vomit came flying out of his face again. At least he’s facing the toilet, I tell myself. Then I saw it. The splashing, so much splashing! The toilet seat was down. For the love.

I grabbed the trashcan to catch the rest but the damage was done. Vomit was everywhere. Again.

I started to help him take his clothes off when he said so quietly, “mommy, I think I pooped my pants.”

Poor little buddy. This virus was sending itself out of every possible hole it could in a massive attempt to escape his little body. I cleaned him up in the true pre-bath style and got him set up in the tub.

It was around this time that I saw the animals milling around his room and the vomit I had yet to clean up. I decided to let the dog outside since he was losing his mind about why we were all awake at this hour.

With the dog outside and the boy in the tub I knew what I had to do. Clean up as much vomit as possible so the boy and I could get back into his bed.

Towels, paper towels, strip the bed, wipe off the books, trash bag for the book casualties of the vomit war of 2020. Make the bed, add some towels, dry the boy off, get him a bowl, back in bed.

Oh crap, the dog!

Back when I thought he was a good dog.

It’s about 12:15am or so by now, so I go outside and the dog is…gone. Freaking gone. We don’t have a fenced yard but it is tree-lined and the dog usually stays in the yard. Not tonight though, of course.

I put a glowing collar on him at night and he is nowhere to be seen. I put my shoes on and start walking back toward the woods, whisper-yelling his name. I hear nothing. No crunching leaves, no other dogs barking. It is silent and he is freaking gone.

I go back inside to be sure the boy didn’t vomit in his bed again. I look outside to see if the dog came back. I look at the front door to see if he’s waiting. Nothing. Back outside, whisper-yelling his stupid name and asking myself, why do I love this dog??

About an hour goes by, yes an HOUR!! I wonder if I should go out and drive around to find him but decide a lost dog is better than repeating the great vomit war of 2020 because I wasn’t in the boy’s room to catch round 2. Finally I look out the front door and the dog is there, looking quite proud of himself likely because he found his way home from his big adventure.

I went back into the boy’s room and thankfully, there was no vomit yet. He would go on to vomit about every hour on the hour until 11:30am the next morning. Poor guy was so sick.

So there it is, friends. Just another Tuesday night/Wednesday morning in the Z house when N travels, LBZ has the barfs and the dog runs away.

The End.

This is Seven.

I'm not sure what I did to deserve the honor of being this boy’s mom.

He teaches me how to really hear music, how to let loose and have fun, how to be genuinely satisfied with what life offers, and how to love with deep and unapologetic emotion. He continues to be a little ball of blonde sunshine and a bright light in this world.

Happy 7th birthday, little LBZ.

Chicken Pox + Chiggers = "Chicken Tenders"

Lu has a rash on his body from what I figured was something he got into while on our hike yesterday (it is). His teachers felt strongly that it was chicken pox (it's not) and insisted we see a doctor. While in the office waiting, Lu had the following conversation with Nate on the room phone:

"Hi daddy! What time will you be home? Well, I'm at the doctor right now. You know those mosquito bites on my body? Well, they're not mosquito bites actually. They're chicken tenders."

He swims. He skips.

I am not typically one for new years resolutions, but this year I made a few.  One was to blog once/month.  Yeah, that hasn't happened.

I do miss blogging.  I know that this time with our boys is so precious, and the days months and years are just flying by.  I will look back and wish I had documented it more.  I'll wish I held onto these moments in more ways than juts my mind.  I know my mind can't hold them all!

These boys bring such light into my life.  We haven't done too many extraordinary things since my last post.  We're just living our lives, spending time in nature, nurturing our relationships with each other and growing together as a family.

BBZ has lost so many teeth!  His permanent teeth are growing in, and he seems to look so much more like a big boy than he has in the past.  He seems like a teenager in some ways, yet still a little boy in others.  He had an accident at camp that required 3 staples in the back of his head.  He was so nervous about it, but he stayed clam and handled it much better than I thought he would.

He is loving camp, and loving reading!  We're not as good about ensuring his summer reading as we should be, but he reads in his natural environment so well!  He reads the signs all around, and is interested in how words are spelled.  He was invited to be in the gifted program at his school, which will start in August when he starts 1st grade.  I'm so glad that he will have some extra support to use his mind and explore new ideas.

He insisted on doing sports camp this year, which I was a little concerned about because of his lack of interest in sports overall, but this has been wonderful for him.  He has tried lots of new activities that I don't know that he would have tried before.  He is taking more chances, and learning more things about himself and about who he wants to be in his life.  It's an adventure and a ride that I am so happy to be along with.  Plus, he's starting to tell me that he can go off on his own without me (he's right) and I'm learning when to back off and support his independence.  I love each time he reminds me that he can do it, that he is in charge of his life, and that he can make many of his own decisions.  I just love being a part of his growing up.

And he continues to LOVE to swim!

BBZ at the JCC pool 6/2015

Then there is my sweet littlest boy, LBZ.  I know that all parents think their children are amazing, and I am no different, but I have this strong sense that there is something quite special about my youngest son.  It seems that everything he touches turns to gold.  He loves music and can play the guitar and drums and sing better than most 3-year-olds I know.  He loves to draw, he loves to swim, he loves to play and listen to music, he loves to read words and sound out what words start with and end with.

And he loves to skip.

For the last few weeks or so, he skips everywhere.  Imagine for a moment what it is like to be with a little person who skips everywhere he goes.  He exudes happiness and light.  He has his moments like all of us of crabbiness or unhappiness, but overall, he is a ray of sunshine in what can sometimes be a dark and sad world.

LBZ's drawing, 7/1/2015

Like his big brother, LBZ also likes to swim.  He loves all sports and has excelled at every one he has tried.  If he had to choose, I think he would choose baseball, but he also loves soccer.  He has 2 metals for the sports he's tried so far (soccer and baseball) and he keeps talking about when he will get one for football and basketball.  He tries just about anything with gusto, and doesn't seem too concerned about how good/not good he is.  He is out to have fun and enjoy life, and it is beautifully contagious to all of us around him.

So I'm just checking in to say that we are here, we are doing well, and we are enjoying life.  We are taking a nice little vacation this week before the school year starts, so hopefully I'll have some fun photos to share when we return.

Dentist woes, and hope.

In 4/2014, I took BBZ, who was 5, to a popular and busy pediatric dentist office because one of his teeth looked broken. It turned out to be abscessed and needed to be pulled. He also had issues with his teeth in all 5 sections as they define them.  They created a treatment plan that included baby tooth root canals, silver crowns and fillings that would take 5 different visits.   (side note, why don’t doctors explain when a child should go to the dentist for the first time? I follow most recommendations, and the early dental visit was not on my radar, apparently)

This was our first experience with a dentist for one of our boys, so I took their word on basically everything. We did 3 of the 5 visits, and then he just couldn't do anymore. He fell apart during a visit and refused the treatment. I felt the dentist was not patient, and did not give him the respect to be involved in his care. Yes he is a child, but once I asked when he began to cry if she could give him a break, and she said that if she did he would learn that if he cried she would stop, and she didn’t want him to learn that. To me it felt as though she needed to stay on her schedule. They pressed me to have the final 2 areas of his mouth addressed, and finally talked me into doing general anesthesia to address the rest of the decay all at once. I researched it and contacted my insurance company, and determined that this would cost our family more than $1000.

Feeling apprehensive, I decided to wait. In the mean time, I took LBZ who was 2 for his first cleaning without x-rays and they found no cavities.  Then in 11/2014, when I took LBZ for his second visit, they did x-rays and found decay between the teeth and wrote a treatment plan for crowns and fillings, which would happen over 2 visits.  I made the appointments, then cancelled them out of fear of creating the same kind of dental fear my oldest experienced.

I went for the follow-up to LBZ’s visit and they were very pushy about treating the cavities. I held my ground, but they were clearly questioning my choices for my child, and adamant that I schedule the appointments to place the crowns and fill the cavities. It reminded me of the fear mongering that happened in the hospital when I was making my own choices about birthing them.  I made the appointments for the work again to avoid the issue, and then I canceled them.  Frustrated and hoping for another option, I asked around to some friends who recommended a small private dental office that had treated their child since he was small.

I went to that office with BBZ today, and brought the entire file, which included x-rays, treatment plans, behavior notes and all.  This new dentist did the cleaning herself, and they also did their own x-rays. She used a tool to check the teeth for cavities, rather than relying on the x-ray alone. She said that the cavity on the tooth that they hadn't treated yet did not change much since the original x-ray last year, so she wants to watch it and wait. She did not mention fluoride treatment, and said we could talk more about the recommended sealants as he gets more comfortable with her. The whole experience felt calm, and patient, and comfortable.

I do not think that the original office I went to was necessarily wrong, but they treated me as though their plan was the only option, and anything besides that was basically me neglecting the dental needs of my child. The other dentist was not a naturally-minded dentist necessarily, but she was a second opinion, and one that I feel much more comfortable with.

She also has a more laid back approach to meals and snacks. We have avoided juice and fruit snacks and candy since his first appointment over a year ago. When I told her this, she said that people are exposed to naturally occurring as well as processed sugar when they eat meals, so limiting the frequency of snacks in between meals can make a big difference in the longevity of the exposure.  That makes so much sense!  My boys are snackers, too.

I feel so much better about the state of their teeth.  Sure, they will both likely need some kind of treatment in the future, and I hope that she is patient with them when that is necessary.  I have a strong feeling that she will give them the time they need to feel comfortable, which is what personalized care looks like to me. Even if they don’t have fancy TVs in the lobby or cartoons on the ceiling.

My sweet LBZ, you are 3.

It's so hard to believe that you, my sweet littlest boy, are now the same age your big brother was when you were born. I cannot picture you as a big brother, which I suppose is a sure sign that we are, in fact, complete with our family of 2 boys.

Not that I don't think you would be a fabulous big brother, I'm sure you'd rise to the occasion, but you are a typical youngest bro, and fit into the role quite well. 

You are such a sweet and beautiful soul, Lu-bug.  I describe you as a big ball of blonde sunshine.  You are forever happy just to be alive.  You sing when you wake up, and talk to your stuffed guys as you fall asleep.  You have your moments of sadness, but you are full of positivity and light, and are an absolute joy to be around.

You say some of the best things.  Such as:

"I'm juss kidding"

"Well, that didn't work"

"You said the wrong word"

"Are you kiddin' me?"

Someone recently said that you talk as though you've been here before.  And that sure seems true.  You are an old soul, and will entertain yourself for hours playing with your toys.  You particularly love minifigures of any kind.  You like Dora and Diego, Handy Manny and all things boy.  Although you do love the color pink, which I think is wonderful.

You are a boy's boy and love roughhousing with your brother and your daddy.  You like wrestlers like Brock Lesner and John Sena, and really love music.  You love "Airplane" by Widespread Panic, just like your mommy.

Being your mama brings such joy to me, my sweet littlest boy.  You are my little sunshine, and I can't help but smile when I am with you.  Even when you are challenging, you are full of love for life and a zest I haven't seen much in this world, and I hope you hold onto that for your whole life.

I love you buddy.

Love,
Mommy.

Is he STILL taking a bottle?

I was thinking the other day about when I should take away LBZ's night time bottle.  Yes, he is 21 months old.  Today, actually.

No one actually asked me this question, but the whole thing got me thinking about when I wrote this post about BBZ still nursing...and I started to recognize the similarities.

No one really knows he still drinks a bottle at night.  He won't even really take one if he isn't at home.  And even when N puts him to bed when I'm not there he isn't really that into it.  It is definitely our thing.  And selfishly, I really like it.

He is independent in 1000 ways.  His independence is so incredibly different than his brother's.  BBZ is independent too, but snuggling at night, not letting go of nursing, wanting us to help with dressing and shoes, etc, those are things that have been and are a part of BBZ's life.

LBZ on the other hand, wants to do everything himself.  He wants to be put to bed awake and have some time to himself before he falls asleep.  He shows us numerous times throughout the day that he is capable of doing so much for himself.  So this little bit of his baby self hanging on is alright with me.

Plus, it still feels like our own special thing we do, like nursing was with BBZ.  I didn't get that as long with LBZ, so I am soaking it up.

I did decide last night to start reading to him before bed, with the hopes that when he transitions into his toddler bed he will be bottle free.  He won't need to be rocked then, and we will be able to snuggle in bed and read books together as we do with BBZ, if that's what LBZ wants.

I am slowly talking myself into just going for it.  He would probably be fine drinking his warm milk from a sippy cup, but what's the difference then?  It might as well be a bottle until we're done having anything at bedtime in my opinion.

I am slowly, but surely, getting close to being ready to let go of this.  Clearly, this is a lot about me.  I'm not afraid to admit that.  This night time bottle is what allowed me to be ok with ending nursing.  This bottle is how I continued to bond with my littlest boy when I didn't think there would be a way for me to do so.  This bottle is more than just a bottle.

But like all good things, it will come to an end.  He will move into his toddler bed and a new routine will begin.  I'm looking forward to it, while also cherishing this baby-ness of his that will very soon be a distant past.

So yes, he is still taking a bottle.

Some things LBZ is doing that I don't want to forget.

He nods to answer everything.  This has been an unbelievably great tool for communicating with him.  He doesn't have as many words as his brother had at this age, and it has proven to be more difficult for his daddy and I to figure out what he needs.  Until about a week ago, he would nod yes and be happy with whatever we asked him and handed to him.  He is more picky now and will nod yes, but yell at us when we had whatever it is to him.  I think we sort of distracted him before and now he is getting more honest with what he actually wants.

When it is time for bed or for nap, I will pick him up with his blanket in hand and ask if he is ready to go night-night.  He immediately looks around the room and starts waving goodbye to everyone.  It is the cutest thing!  The boy loves to go to sleep, but struggles staying asleep.  Besides a few random night recently, he has not slept all night in four months.  No, I'm not kidding.

He sings.  Not with words, but with sounds that are a perfect melody for either the name song we sing to him or the ABCs that we sing while reading a particular book to him.  He doesn't yet have the words, but he has the melody and the notes and it just melts my heart.

He also still rocks back and forth when I say it's time to leave the bathtub while he sings the bye-bye water song we sing each night.  He also loves to brush his teeth but doesn't understand why he can't use his brother's toothbrush as well as his.

Books, books and more books!  He loves for us to read to him.  He will have us read the same book over and over again.  He also loves balloons.  He loves for N to blow them up for him and let the air out or to tie the knot and play with it around the house.  I have a cute video of him chasing a balloon all around his room.



He also loves to stack blocks and stackable toys.  He makes huge towers!  Then he loves to knock them down :)  Here is a video of BBZ at the same age LBZ is now.  LBZ loves this toy, too.  I need to remember to get a video of him stacking it too!



He is getting to the point now where he wants to do or have anything that his brother is doing or has.  I can no longer say that he doesn't notice and get away with giving BBZ something, I have to have something for LBZ too.  In the morning, BBZ likes to have a snack in the car.  If I don't have one for Lu, we're all in trouble.

He is so incredibly happy in the morning!  I took this video one morning after listening to him talk and coo and make all kids of happy noises before I went in to get him.  He still doesn't really stand up and call for me.  He just sits and plays and talks in his crib for a while.  His teachers also say that he doesn't get off of his cot until they come over and get him after his nap.  Could that be a good sign for when he moves to a bed?  That would rock.



He is such a little guy.  He's very clearly in 12 month clothes, but all off BBZ's hand-me-downs for winter are 18 months.  He is gaining though.  And besides skipping dinner the last few nights, he eats like a horse!  I can no longer make a fourth helping and save it for my lunch the next day.  I am now making 4 full servings for all four of us.  Everyone is growing up so fast :(

It really doesn't make me sad though, I love watching both boys learn and grow and develop.  It just goes so fast, I'm afraid I won't remember these details!

It's already hard to remember BBZ at LBZ's age.  I can easily picture LBZ doing what BBZ does now, but the opposite is really hard.  They are both such amazing little people.

Experiencing a Nursing Strike.

Alternately titled:
Ripping My Heart Out of My Chest and Stomping On It.

Also alternately titled:
A Lesson in My Littlest Son's Independence I Hoped Wouldn't Come Until College.

This week was a bit strange from the start.  I was home with the boys as usual on Monday, but their school was closed for teacher meetings on Tuesday and Wednesday, so N and I took turns staying home.  I worked in the morning and stayed home with the boys in the afternoon.

Wednesday evening I planned to go have dinner with some friends.  I nursed Lu at about 5pm and figured he'd be up around 11pm to nurse as he'd been doing for weeks now.  N said that he went to bed fine, although it was later than usual.  I got home around 9:30pm and got excited when he started stirring around 10pm because I really missed that bedtime nursing.

I went into his room and picked him up and started to try and nurse with him.  He would try and latch on but would turn away.  He has done this only once or twice before and it was when his tummy hurt and he had to poo, so I figured that was it.  I put him back into bed and he didn't cry and fell back to sleep.

He woke up around 5:30am on Thursday and I went in planning to feed him since I was pretty full from skipping his nighttime and overnight feedings.  He screamed and pulled away and arched his back.  I tried numerous times with this same result.  I realized that this probably wasn't going to just pass.

I felt terribly rejected.  The one thing that I thought caused him the most comfort was now the absolute last thing he wanted.  I tried to have N hold him so I could pump, but he screamed at that too.  He wanted me to hold him but didn't want to nurse.  I was confused and hurt and in pain from being engorged.

N eventually was able to distract him enough so I could pump.  As I pumped I started reading articles I could find on nursing strikes.  I was pretty sure that is what was happening, but I also had noticed that he was slowing down on both nursing and taking his bottle, so I also wondered if this was weaning.

I took him to school and drove to work, feeling sad and scared and completely unsure of myself as a nursing mother.  Why didn't he want me anymore?  Is this the end?  I'm not ready to wean yet.  Do I have to be ready?  Isn't this about him?  But it is about him.  He needs this milk to be healthy.  Should I just give him the bottle from now on and call it quits?  I don't want to stop.  It's not all about me.  Am I being selfish?

Ugh.  The emotions were running rapid.  I really did feel like someone ripped my heart out and stomped on it.  I felt angry at LBZ.  Every time he laughed I wondered how he could possibly be happy about anything with our nursing relationship in shambles.  I wanted him to feel rejected like I did.  Some mothering, huh?

Once at work I spoke with a few nursing-friendly co-workers who encouraged me to stay positive and keep my milk up in case it is just a short strike and that he might regain interest.  I felt a bit more hopeful and hoped that maybe he would nurse when I picked him up from school since it was the longest stretch that we had been separated in almost a week.  That didn't happen.

On my way to pick him up, I prayed.  I don't often pray, but yesterday I did.  I didn't pray that he would go back to nursing, although that is what I really wanted.  I prayed for my own peace in whatever he did.  That I could accept his rejection as nothing more than a single act and have strength to make it through that feeding, if he did refuse.

Well, he did refuse.  He started to put his mouth on and decided he didn't want to.  I gave him a minute, tried the other side and when he refused, I accepted it.  We went home and I tried a few different positions, none of which were successful.  I again felt angry at him.  I didn't understand why he didn't like to nurse anymore.  BBZ started acting up and it was just too much for me to handle.  N was home by then and I just ran into our room and cried.

I don't think I can adequately put these emotions into words.  I was angry, hurt, sad and worried.  I had no idea what to do next.

I found a LLL meeting that I thought I'd go to, but then LBZ started crying and neither N or I could calm him down.  I decided at that moment to take him to the doctor.  I had planned to see how the night went, but this made me not want to wait.  I packed him into the car and ran off to the urgent care.  Diagnosis: "really bad" ear infection.

I was simultaneously relieved and upset by this diagnosis.  Now I understood why he was refusing.  Clearly, he is in pain.  I stopped and got the prescription and filled it on the way home.  I gave him a dose and tried to get him to sleep.  He was happy and playful, until I tried to get him to nurse.  I tried every position imaginable.  He was just not having it.  I finally gave in and gave him a bottle.  He sucked it down and passed out about 5 minutes later.

He woke up at 5:30am again this morning and would not nurse.  He went to latch on, but turned away and arched his back and cried.  While I still felt hurt from his rejection, it was different.  I understand why he doesn't want to nurse right now and I want to support him and his decision.

And there lies my dilemma.  My son has made this decision to no longer nurse.  Is it forever?  Maybe, maybe not.  But I am completely torn between what I want and what he wants.  While I realize that many children return to nursing following a strike, but why?  Do they eventually give in to a persistent parent?  Do they decide they still want to?  I have read about strikes that last for weeks, how long do I let this go on before I finally give up?

And is it giving up or would I be following the baby's lead, as so many breastfeeding resources say to do.  I feel very confused about what the next few days or weeks may bring.  I will continue to pump and offer for now, and who knows what will happen next.

I realize that my mothering life will constantly be lessons in learning how to balance my sons' need for independence and my needs as a mother.  While I know how beneficial nursing is to him, I also want to respect his decision if he no longer wants to, even when I so desperately do.

I have also decided to call the ENT and explore the possibility of tubes.  I feel very disappointed about this as well, but I feel it is the right thing to do at this time.  I have not made the complete commitment to doing them, but I am going to explore this option.  At least I can go into this saying that I tried other things.  I am going to say that diet changes combined with the chiropractor got us an extra 5 months.  He would have otherwise had tubes placed months ago.  And if this ear pain was enough to cause him to stop nursing, I have to do something more than what I've done so far.  It's just time.

I will keep all of you updated as we head down this path.  No matter what is to come, I can feel great about our nursing up to this point.  I can continue to pump and give him my milk for his health.  While I do hope that he will return to breastfeeding, I can also prepare myself in case that isn't our path.  Only time will tell.

One son is and one son isn't: How we came to our circumcision decision.

I would like to begin this post by saying that this is a very touchy subject for some.  It's one of those hot topics that people are often passionate about.  This is simply our family's story about circumcision.  I share it because of my own struggle with this decision in hopes that others will do what they feel is right for them and their sons.  Whatever that decision might be.

When we found out BBZ was a boy in April of 2008, we were over the moon with excitement about our sweet baby boy.  N and I both desperately wanted a boy, so we were thrilled that our dream was going to come true.

Surprisingly, there were only two people who asked me what our plan was for circumcision...my mom and a friend from work.  My mom wondered if we thought much about it and let me know about some extended family members who decided not to circumcise.  I thought about it some and didn't like the idea of circumcising, but N seemed to think we needed to and I kind of went along.  I really didn't think I had much of a choice about it.  It seemed like it's just what people did.

As it came closer to BBZ's birth, I became more uncomfortable with the idea of having him circumcised.  The few times I spoke with N about it, he continued to feel that we needed to do the procedure.  Unsure of how I felt I went along with it.  N didn't press the issue and neither did I.  Looking back, I felt an enormous amount of social pressure to circumcise, even though my gut told me not to.

The day after he was born, my OB said that she would do the circumcision the next day, which was to be the day we would take him home.  This concerned me because I realized I would be taking him home with an injury.  I somehow thought that he should have the procedure done that day in case something went wrong.  I suddenly felt like I really didn't want to do it, but I didn't say anything to anyone.  Not even N.

The next day I had to give consent for the circumcision and reluctantly did.  When they brought him into the room and I saw what I had consented to have done to my perfect, natural little boy, I nearly vomited.  They literally cut the top of his penis off.  Because I asked them to.

As the new mom, I felt an incredible need to care for what I saw as an injury, so N did very little of the care in those first few weeks.  Care involved covering pieces of gauze with A&D ointment and covering the top of BBZ's penis with the gauze at each diaper change.  This was so the diaper would not adhere to his healing penis.

At his 1-month appointment, his doctor showed me that his remaining foreskin was adhering to the part that was cut.  She had to pull the foreskin down, which exposed red skin that also needed to be covered with ointment in order to heal.  For the next four months, I had to pull the adhered foreskin off of the top of his penis and apply ointment periodically.

I realize that this is not typical for a circumcision, but this was our experience.  The guilt I felt at each diaper change was horrible.  I realized that what was done was done, but I really beat myself up for not following my gut for months following his birth.  Even now, I am so angry at myself for being so influenced by societal expectations that I couldn't stand by my own views.  I was ashamed and embarrassed and ultimately angry.

As we started to think about having another baby, I wondered how I would handle things if we had another boy.  When we found out LBZ was a boy in April of 2011, and after I celebrated the fact that we were going to have 2 sweet little boys, I immediately wondered whether or not to circumcise.

N and I talked a lot about it.  While I felt very strong about not circumcising, I wanted to explore N's ideas as a man and also take into consideration what it would be like for brothers to grow up looking well, different.  Different not only from each other, but one different from both his brother and his dad.

I posted a message to the LLL board I belong to and asked to hear from people who had an older son who's circumcised and a younger son who wasn't.  I was pleasantly surprised to get a response from at least 7 families who had this scenario.  I spoke with most of them about how they came to their decision, what their husbands thought, and their concerns about the boys being different.

Most of the moms didn't think much of the circumcision with their first child, but decided to make a different choice with their second and subsequent children.  Many of them also dismissed the concerns about the boys looking different because of the many other ways they would look different.  None of them had a negative view of the decision they made.

I also started doing research.  The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) does not make a stance either way on the issue.  The exact statement can be found here.  I found one study that looked at instances of baby boys acquiring urinary tract infections (UTIs) and compared boys in the UK with boys in the United States.  The study found that boys in the UK (where circumcision rates are much, much lower that in the US) UTIs were about twice as likely to occur in the baby boys in the UK.  The study stated that the results did not prove causation.

N and I spoke at length many times as I perused online information and spoke with the other moms who experienced it.  I also found a blog post written by a man who was the younger son in a family of two boys where he was uncircumcised and his older brother was.  He talked about his comfort level and his experience being "different" from his brother.  He talked very personally and positively about his experiences.

N summarized it best the day we finalized our decision.  Parents who do circumcise do it for cosmetic reasons and for possible health considerations.  Parents who choose not to circumcise do so in order to avoid possible pain to the infant.  That's a pretty simple explanation.  I wanted to do anything to avoid any pain to my second son, especially after the difficult time his brother had.  N recognized my passion for the issue and agreed that we should not have LBZ circumcised.  My opinion is that he was indifferent about the issue and since it meant so much to me, he supported me.

I can't really explain how confident and happy I am about our decision to not have LBZ circumcised.  It was so easy to not do anything and to care for him just as he was when he was born.  He looks just perfect to me, the way he should.  The biggest concern is making sure that anyone who watches him knows to never pull the foreskin back during diaper changes.  Everything else is as natural as he was meant to be.

I realize that LBZ might have questions about why he looks different than his brother, but the truth is that we learned something after BBZ was born and decided to make a different decision this time.  I am confident that I will be able to explain this to him one day, should he have questions or concerns.

The biggest lesson learned for me is to trust myself and not be influenced by others' opinions.  Just as the AAP states "To make an informed choice, parents of all male infants should be given accurate and unbiased information and be provided the opportunity to discuss this decision".  Knowledge is power. 

Many new soon-to-be-parents I know have watched a circumcision video on YouTube as a part of their decision making.  I cannot bring myself to watch it as I still carry some guilt for putting my 3 day old infant through what became a 4-month issue.  The people I know who watched it found it to be beneficial when making their decision about their infant sons.

Like I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I do not pretend to know what is best for baby boys.  I just know what was the best decision for MY baby boy.  And I feel great about our decision!

2 Weeks and 3 Days

We are having so much fun!!

LBZ certainly is as much work as any newborn, but we are seriously enjoying every minute with our new family member.

He is nursing like a champ.  I am so happy that our nursing relationship is going so well.  BBZ and I had such a great nursing relationship, I hoped to have as good of one with LBZ, and so far so good!  He nurses about every 2-3 hours around the clock and sometimes surprises me with a 4-5 hour stretch, but it is rare.  It's difficult, but I'm managing.

Sleep is such a funny thing.  Sure, I need it, but I am operating ok on how much less I am getting than before.  I have not been feeling well, which has been wearing me down.  I have a bad cough and have a dr appointment this afternoon.  Hopefully he can let me know why whatever this is keeps hanging on.  LBZ has a cough too, but luckily no fever or anything that would force me to take him to the doctor.  I hate that he has this cough, but luckily his immune system is keeping it at bay.

We had BBZ's 3rd birthday party this past weekend, which was so much fun!  I was super tired afterwards, but BBZ had such an amazing time, I'm really glad we still had the party.  N basically did everything for the party anyway.  He did the menu, shopped, prepared all of the food and even did most of the clean-up the next day.  It was a lot of work and he pretty much did it all.  I love him so much.  He has stepped up in so many ways around here lately.  I'm one lucky lady.

My mom left yesterday after being here for one day short of a month.  It was so great to have her here and I miss her already.  I hate that they live so far away.  Especially with the boys being so little and changing so much so fast.  She will be back after Thanksgiving to watch LBZ for 2 weeks when I go back to work.  I wanted to wait a while before sending him to daycare, so since she is coming in town, he will be 3 months old before he has to start.  That sure seems so young though!

I am already a little nervous about going back to work.  It's still a while away, but the idea of being away from my sweet baby boy sucks.  The best thing is that the boys will be together.  BBZ is super excited about having his baby brother at his school, and I know and trust this place so much it won't be as though we are leaving him somewhere brand new, but it is still a scary thought.

I'm feeling very anxious about my baby weight.  With BBZ, I didn't know how I would lose the weight.  I didn't know how long it would take or if it would be easy or hard or anything.  It was all unknown.  This time, I know I lost it all pretty quickly last time and expect the same now.  I am so tired of wearing maternity clothes and sweatpants!  I realize that it has only been 2 weeks, but I am getting impatient.  I found a post that said I still had 10 pounds left when BBZ was 6 weeks old, so that gives me an idea of where I should be, but I still have 20 pounds to go, and I can't wait to wear real jeans and put my ring back on!

I did manage to squeeze my ring on my finger today for a few hours, but it got tighter and uncomfortable, so I took it off.  Hopefully in the next week or so I'll be able to wear it all the time again.  I miss my pretty ring!

Overall, we are doing so well.  LBZ fits just prefectly in our lives and BBZ seems to love his new role as big brother.  I am smitten with my boys and loving life!

Here are some photos from the hospital and the early days as a family of 4!

My girlfriends who visited us in the hospital.

My sweet boys :)

Laura took some beautiful photos for us...

Newborn Photos!

My very dear friend, Nikki, over at Purple Lemon Photography, came by last week and took some amazing photos of our little-bit-bigger family.

Click here to check out the preview!

LBZ's Birth Story

On the morning of Wednesday September 7th, I had strong contractions that were 6 minutes apart.  I was awakened by them around 3am, got up and moved around, gathered some things I wanted to add to my hospital bag and then it happened again.  Everything completely stopped.  I crawled back into bed and cried.  N was so sweet and caring and supportive.  He said everything would happen when it was meant to and while I didn't want to hear it at the time, he was right.

Contractions picked up again on Wednesday and came every 10 minutes like clockwork from 11am-8pm.  These contractions while strong enough to stop me in my tracks at times, were not bad enough to interrupt too much of my day.  N's sister and family came over with some gifts for us and for the boys and shortly after they left the contractions stopped.  I fell asleep early and woke only a few times to use the bathroom.  Even BBZ slept all night and slept in.  I ended up getting 10 total hours of sleep, which I hoped was gearing me up for some action.

Thursday I did absolutely nothing.  I didn't feel like leaving the house and needed some emotional support.  I posted a message on my LLL message board and got some kind and positive words from other women whose children were past due.  Friends on Facebook sent messages of support and concern, which was so unbelievably wonderful.  Every time my phone chimed with a message from Facebook I got excited and felt better after reading it.  People are so kind.

Friday morning was my appointment with my OB.  I was having contractions again and hoped that he would shed some light on what all of these contractions were doing in there.  He hooked me up to the monitor which recorded contractions every 4 minutes.  I tried not to get excited, but part of me hoped that he would come back in, check me and tell me I was in labor.  That didn't happen.

He came in and seemed unconcerned that I was having these contractions.  He checked me and I was still at 3cm, which I had been all week.  I tried not to feel let down, but I was again, disappointed.  He did an ultrasound and my fluid levels and his heart rate looked just fine to let things keep going.  He said he would induce me if I wanted him to and I declined, although it was a little bit tempting.  He actually said I could go all the way until next Saturday, which would be 42 weeks and 3 days.  I was surprised, but also pretty hopeful that I wouldn't be pregnant that much longer.

When we left the office I felt a new level of power to push on.  Now that I knew that contractions I was having weren't doing anything, I decided to completely ignore them.  No more timing, no more packing those last minute things.  As long as the contractions were not stronger than the ones I had while on the monitor, I planned to go about my day as though nothing was going on.

BBZ is home with us on Fridays now, so N and I headed home and picked up him and my mom and headed to the Zoo!  It was such a fun day.  It was hard walking around because I was a bit uncomfortable, but emotionally it was the best thing I could have done.  I also think that having the confirmation from my OB that things were fine to keep going was a bigger relief than I anticipated.  Part of me worried how a baby could handle 2 full days of contractions, but since my doc was so confident, it too gave me the power to push on.

Friday evening was quiet as usual and I headed to bed around 10pm.  I was still having the same contractions I had all day, but I was able to fall asleep despite them.  At around 12:30am, which was then Saturday morning, I awoke to a very confused and disoriented.  I thought I had a contraction that was crazy strong, but since it woke me up I wasn't sure if it was a dream or not.  It was a scary feeling.  I got up and moved around and felt another one that was quite a bit stronger than the ones I had been having, but not scary strong.  I calmed down a bit then.

When a few more came I felt that it was time.  I didn't even really time them because the feeling was so much different than it had been.  I called the exchange and let them know we were heading to the hospital.  I grabbed my last-minute things and let my mom know what was happening.  I was remarkably calm, yet eager to get to the hospital.  It was an odd sensation to really want to be where he would be born.

We noticed as we drove to the hospital that it was about the same time of night as when BBZ was born.  We got there around 1:30am and talked with the nurse until I was taken into a labor and delivery room around 2am.  The hospital was apparently very crowded, so the triage was done there.

The nurse hooked me up to the monitor in the room that I would later deliver in.  I wasn't very happy about being confined to the bed and voiced this.  She said she needed to take a look at him and as long as things were going ok, I could be unhooked soon.  I was feeling trapped and held down by the bed, but I managed.

I really wanted to have a heparin lock instead of an IV like I did with BBZ so I could move around.  She started to push why I needed the fluids and it seemed as though she wanted to do the IV instead.  N and I talked and agreed that I could probably use the fluids too and agreed.  The funny thing about this is that she did end up doing a hep lock after all.  I'm not sure where the breakdown of communication went, but that wasn't the only time it happened.

The fluids did help me a lot, but laying in the bed was really starting to frustrate me.  She unhooked me from the monitor once so I could use the bathroom and I had a contraction on my way back to the bed.  I held on to N and swayed back and forth and felt 1000 times better about the pain.  It really is amazing how much harder it is to labor in a bed.

When she came back I asked if there was any way I could please move around and that my hope was to have an unmedicated birth and the bed was proving to be really challenging.   She said, "would you like to sit on the birthing ball while on the monitor?"  Um, yeah!  Why she did not suggest this earlier is beyond me, but at least she finally did.

I sat on the ball and faced N who was sitting on the bed.  The contractions really started to pick up and I began to vocalize through them.  Sometimes I would hum, other times I would giggle and have a sing-song sound come out, and other times it was a louder way to let the pain escape my body.  I started to get scared and said to N that I didn't think I could do it.  He told me that however the baby comes is fine and that I should do what I needed to.  The word epidural came out of my mouth.

At about 3:30am or so, she said that the baby looked good enough for me to stop the fluids and get off of the monitor.  I asked her to check me and I was at 7cm.  The pain was really, really intense.  I vocalized through the contractions and I think I did pretty well during the actual contraction, but in between was when I felt I couldn't go on.  Just like in other areas of my life, during the crisis I knew exactly what to do and saved the freaking out for afterwards.  I did not mention the epidural to her although I was constantly arguing with myself about whether or not to get it.  It was like this thing that kept hanging over my head.  She said she would be back around 4am to check on me.

The time between her visits were really, really intense.  I kept moving around and changing positions.  At one point I ended up on my knees facing the back of the bed.  I'd lay my head on a pillow in between the contractions and almost fell asleep a few times.  I was pretty sure that this was the transition phase of labor.  N massaged my hands during the contractions which helped me refocus the sensation.

The nurse came in around 4:10am and I asked her to check me again.  Still at 7cm, I asked for the epidural.  I know it had only been 45 minutes or so, but I was frustrated by no progress.  While we waited for the doctor, I said that I wasn't sure that I wanted the epidural and the nurse asked if I was changing my mind.  I didn't know what to do.  Then the contractions took a turn that I had never felt or expected.  My body took over and I couldn't control any part of it.

The urge to push was like nothing I had ever felt.  A friend told me that the urge to push during labor is as intense as the need to push your bowels, but this urge was way beyond anything I have ever felt.  I could not stop the force to push.  When you have to move a bowel, your body can say "wait, stop, not yet wait until you get to the bathroom".  This urge was absolutely out of my control.

I was very aware and vocal about what was going on with my body and confused about what to do.  The nurse told me to not push and I tried to tell her that I had to.  She asked if I wanted her to check me again and while I did, the thought of laying on my back for her to do it was terrible.  Reluctantly I did and when she put her hand in to check she broke my water.  She said there was meconium in the water.

Around the same time the anesthesiologist came in and couldn't find a table to set up the epidural.  The nurse said to him "forget the table, find the doctor!"  I felt  him moving down the birth canal.  It was an unbelievable sensation.  It's like I knew exactly where in my body he was and how much farther he had to go.  She had me pant hard during 2-3 contractions when all I wanted to do was push.  I focused my eyes on some small marks on the ceiling behind N and held both his hands while I tried to fight with my body about pushing.  The urge would sneak in and try to take over, but I suppressed it.  I know this probably doesn't sound like the right thing to do, but strangely, it made me aware of the control I did possess over what was happening.  I was holding him in until it was safe to deliver him.

The doctor (not my OB who was still on his way) came in and said he would deliver just as I was laying, which was somewhat crooked on the bed.  I pushed hard and the nurse asked me if I wanted to feel his head.  I reached down and felt it.  I pushed again and he must have crowned.  Then the weirdest thing happened.  The whole room went silent.  I was completely calm.  I was strangely aware of everything going on as we all patiently waited for the next contraction to tell me when to push.  It was a peaceful and surreal moment that I will never forget.

The next push was hard, but I knew his head was out.  They asked me to look down and see him, but I couldn't over my big belly!  There was another moment of peace and one more contraction, and with that one I pushed, and there he was.  He landed on the bed and still had part of the bag of water wrapped around his head.  He was wet and slimy and perfect.  It was 4:52am.

I couldn't believe that I actually did it.  I was full of emotions and loved hearing his sweet little cry.  I didn't feel a huge need to do skin to skin contact or to hold him for a long time right away.  I didn't feel disconnected to him the way I did with BBZ, but I also didn't feel a huge connection that I expected either.  What I felt was real, and it was ok.  I understood everything that was going on around me and well aware of who was there and what was happening.

Shortly after, my OB came in the room.  Since he got the message at 2am that I was at a 4 and at a 7 at 4am, I guess he figured he had time to get there, but apparently my body had different plans!  He shook my hand and apologized for not being there.  I really didn't need him there though anyway.  I chose him for his philosophy about natural pregnancy and birthing, but really only needed him if there had been an emergency.  Luckily everything went great and it didn't matter who caught him on his way out!

My OB then did an exam to see if I had damage to my perineum.  He said I had a small tear on my episiotomy scar that would require a few stitches.  I said that my last tear was 3rd degree and he said this one was no where near a 3rd degree.  That was such great news considering the issues that arose after my last experience.

One thing I hoped to gain from this birth experience was a healing from my last.  I wasn't sure how or if this was possible, but what happened next made a huge impact on the way I viewed my last experience.

He used a local anesthetic to numb the area for the stitches.  He began to stitch and I felt the same sensations I felt with BBZ's birth.  I felt everything.  I felt the needle, I felt the string, I felt everything.  The difference?  My OB was very concerned about what I was feeling.  He was gentle and sensitive and apologized for the discomfort.  He gave me more anesthetic and tried to make it as comfortable as possible.  Not only did this show me that I was not crazy when I felt the stitches last time, but I also realized how the reaction of my old OB was so different.  She never acknowledged that I felt the pain.  Almost as though she didn't believe me.  I felt like I had done something wrong or that I was being dramatic.  The fact that I felt the same sensation was reassuring, empowering, and healing...even though it was painful.

If there was one thing I would change about the whole experience, I would have stayed away from the hospital.  If I were to do this again (which is highly unlikely) I would do whatever I could to not have the hospital birth.  Just having the epidural as an option caused me anxiety.  I think that if the option had been completely off of the table, it would have been an even better experience.

The recovery from this experience has been wonderful.  I have a lot of energy, I feel in tune with LBZ, breastfeeding is going wonderfully and I have only been taking Motrin for engorgement and some aches.  I have no back pain, I'm not swollen, and I feel unbelievable for having a baby 3 days ago.  Everything about this experience is better, and I know it's because my body did what it was built to do.

Another thing I would change is that everything was so fast and so intense, we didn't take any pictures of the birth at all!  After he was born I had to remind N to get the camera out!  I wish we had taken some, but oh well.  The best pictures are in my mind and now a permanent piece of who I am.  I am a woman who birthed my child exactly the way I wanted to.  I felt him move down my birth canal.  I felt him stretch my body physically and emotionally to a point that I never knew I could go.  I felt his body slide out of me and saw his first reaction to the world around him.  I did it.

Welcome to this world...

Little Brother (Luther) Z!!!

At long last,

after an amazing,

empowering,

healing,

unmedicated birth,

My baby boy is here, and my sweet family is complete.

I will share the beautiful story of my second son's birth very soon, but for now, I'm going to go snuggle with my baby!

Disappointment

Yesterday was my birthday.

Yesterday was the hardest day yet.

After waking up at 3am with pretty strong contractions, I couldn't go back to sleep. I got up to use the bathroom a few times and unofficially started to time the contractions. From 3am until about 6 am they were steady from 8-10 minutes apart, lasting about a minute or so. I figured this was it.

I got up, ate some food, let N know what was going on and took a shower.  I was sure this was it.  At about 7:30am, things started to slow down a bit.  N and I decided to take a walk and took a super long one.  The contractions were steady the whole time, but manageable.

Once we got home around 8:30am or so, I had to use the bathroom immediately.  After that, I had 2 contractions and then nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  It was as though the whole morning never happened.  I was absolutely devastated.

I thought this was going to be the perfect birthday for both him and me.  That we would go to the hospital and he would be born in the same exact place I was 32 years earlier.  The disappointment I felt cannot be put into words.

I spent all day sad.  I couldn’t break away from the sadness, and I really didn’t have an interest in trying to feel better.  I guess this is what depression feels like.  I had no interest in doing anything.  Not even playing with BBZ, which made me feel even worse.

Luckily, N is an amazing husband and he just took over.  Our niece was spending the day with us, so N took her and BBZ to the park.  He called around lunchtime and said BBZ wanted Steak N’ Shake and wondered if I wanted to come.  I didn’t want to move, but a milk shake did sound delicious!

We went and ate lunch and I still didn’t feel much better.  I felt completely deflated.  I’m not sure if it was the fact that the labor took my energy or that emotionally I just couldn’t cope.  Either way, I laid around the house the rest of the day feeling sorry for myself.

At some point after dinner, I got my strength back.  I felt positive again and ready to push on.  N and I ran to the grocery store for our weekly fruit trip and he had the best idea in the world.  He says “if we, and by ‘we’ I mean mostly you, have to have a few more rough days, we should buy some junk food to help us get by.  It will make the days much easier”.

Now let me explain that N and I are very health eaters.  Sure we have the occasional cookie or ice cream and what-not, but we do not buy foods with HFCS or lots of sugar because we don’t want it in the house and we really just don’t eat it.  He made a good point though that if there is ever a time that we want to throw rules out the window and just try to make life a little more tolerable, now is the time.

Throughout this pregnancy, I have been eyeing those toaster things that have the icing on them.  I loved them when I was younger and have just had a taste for them.  I have exercised restraint though and avoided such sugar-filled snacks and opted instead for fruit or another healthy alternative.

Well, we have those delicious toaster things in the freezer right now.  We also have chocolate donuts and candy corn, two of my favorite snacks in the world.  That N sure knows what he is doing.

So today I have new energy.  If the week and my mood swings continue as they have, it means that tomorrow will be another bad day, but we’ll have to wait and see.

I’ll see my doctor this afternoon and am looking forward to finding out how long he will let me go without inducing.  Neither of us has brought it up, and I assume that 42 weeks is the magic number, but I’m not sure.  As much as I want this baby to be born, I really do not want to be induced.  Hopefully he will come on his own before we have to do any interventions.

Tomorrow is the magic 7^th day, which is how late BBZ was.  Will this boy be just like his brother?  Will he try to out-do him and go even longer?  Or maybe he’ll show up today and surprise us all.  Who knows, but I am glad to be in a better place today and hope that I will be holding my sweet baby boy very, very soon.

I put the swing in mood swings

Wow, going past my due date is an insane roller coaster of emotions.  I can't believe I was so naive to believe that it would be better this time since I was a week late with BBZ.  One day I feel great and like I could go all the way to 42 weeks if needed, and the next day I am contemplating (only halfway seriously) induction.
This is so hard to explain to someone who hasn't experienced it.  As much as I want to and planned to take the pressure off of this one day, going past it is pure torture.  I go from feeling completely confident in nature to being sure that I have some control over it and must not "want" him to be born enough.  This is all just downright irrational.

But I suppose that is to be expected with the amount of hormonal activity going on inside my body right now.  I've been through this before, but that doesn't make it any bit easier.

Thursday, 9/1 I spent all day having contractions that ranged anywhere from 8-30 minutes apart.  I was sure it would turn into real labor and kept waiting for that.  At one point I asked my body to turn into real labor or just stop and so it stopped.  Not the answer I wanted, but I was at least able to sleep a while that night and wake up rested.

Friday was super hard as I expected contractions to restart and they didn't.  Some friends were throwing a surprise 35th birthday party for another friend at a bar that had a Panic cover band playing.  N had planned to go all along unless the baby was here and I had no intention of going either way.

At around 5pm as I laid down on the couch feeling sorry for myself, N suggested I go along too...so I did!  We went to a friend's house first and hung out, then headed to the venue.  It was so great to get out of the house, hear some awesome music and spend time with friends.  It was just what I needed.

Yesterday I felt on top of the world.  My best girlfriend came to visit, BBZ took a 3-hour nap, and I really felt ok about being past my date.  The thought of going to 42 weeks while scary didn't feel like the end of the world and I felt ok about things.

Today, not so much.

Today I am feeling sorry for myself again.  I know all of the rational thoughts but feel all of the hormonal emotions.  I know he will come when he is ready, but I want him to be ready now.  I know I will not be pregnant forever, but I don't want to be pregnant anymore.  I know he must not be quite done, but I feel like he's not being born because I'm not wanting it enough.  I know I have no control over when he is born, but I feel like I do and I'm not doing enough to make it happen.

See rational thoughts and hormone-induced feelings.

Tomorrow is my birthday, and I am hoping that I get a sweet baby boy for my birthday, but I guess we will have to wait and see.

I'll end on a positive note that physically, I still feel amazing.  I can't believe that I feel this good this late in the game.  I am not swollen at all and other than the occasional ache or pain, I feel awesome.  It's kind of crazy, so I guess I should be thrilled about that!

(40 Weeks, 3 Days)



I'm off work, LBZ's still cookin', I might as well blog!

Well, my due date is literally right around the corner.  Tomorrow to be exact.  And in all honesty, I still can't believe how good I feel!  Sure there are uncomfortable times and aches and some pains, but overall, I really do feel pretty great.

I have also noticed that when I relax, take a deep breath, and become ok with possibly being pregnant for another week, I feel much better.  I had some pretty serious practice contractions over the weekend that made me think I was perhaps closer than I was.  Sunday was a super hard day for me.  I think I really convinced myself that he was coming and was really let down when he didn't.

I am back to realizing that this baby will likely be born in September, which is something I really want anyway.  My birthday is in September, BBZ's is too.  It is probably my favorite month of the year, followed closely by December.  It is a fabulous month for a birthday.

Plus, I am delivering LBZ in the same hospital where I was born!  My birthday is 9/5, so how cool would it be for LBZ to be born in the same place I was exactly 32 years later?!  What would be even cooler is if he is born on 9/3 and I am home by 9/5, but since I cannot choose when he will arrive, I will just sit back, enjoy my vacation, and wait.

That's another mind trick that has helped me.  I was struggling with being on "maternity leave" already and "wasting" it by being home without a baby, but I decided to look at this week as vacation since I technically took vacation time and save the "maternity leave" talk until after the baby comes.  The mind is a very powerful thing.

My mom is in town, which is awesome company!  We have been bumming around town and taking it easy.  She watched "The Business of Being Born" with me yesterday and I think she really grasped the reason I want to have a different experience this time around.  I am so glad that I watched it again so close to the birth.  I am so ready to experience this again.

I'm behind a bit in picture taking, but here is the most recent one I took...

(39 Weeks, 1 Day)

I still feel like I am smaller than I was with BBZ.  I am running about 10 pounds or so lighter, which is quite nice.  I am not swollen at all, which seriously blows my mind.  My hands are and I haven't been able to comfortably wear my rings in months, but with BBZ my feet were huge and I always felt swollen and uncomfortable.  Not this time!

BBZ had a fund raiser at our local children's museum last Sunday night and we had a blast!  They rented the place out, so it wasn't too crowded and all of the money went back into the school.  We bit in a silent auction on artwork that the kids in his class did and won a huge basket of baby toys in the raffle!  See!



Everyone thought it was pretty cool timing to win this right before the baby comes.  We really didn't need new toys, as our home is overflowing with them already, but it sure is nice to have some new things just for LBZ.  He doesn't have to have all hand-me-downs after all.

Today we have some walking planned and I see my doctor this afternoon.  I am wondering if he will want me to do a non-stress test like I had to do when BBZ went past his due date.  I have decided not to have pelvic checks with this pregnancy.  I asked a few weeks back if it was medically necessary and he said it was not.  He said that most women are curious if anything is happening (dilation, effacement, etc) but medically there really isn't a reason, so I declined.

I remember being dilated and effaced with BBZ and still waiting a week for him to come.  Plus, what if I am 4 cm dilated now and don't know it, then when I am in active labor I labor at home for as long as I can, go to the hospital and am dilated to 5cm.  If I didn't know I was 4 already I would htink that is awesome!  I was 5 cm when I got to the hospital with BBZ and thought that was pretty awesome.  I don't want to know too much, ya know?

So that's what's up with me.  No baby yet, but he will be here soon!