Two weeks to go...I can't believe it!

Thirty-eight weeks preggo. It really could happen any time now. According to my research, my former ob/gyn and my current mid-wife, a baby is considered full term and can be expected to arrive anytime from two weeks before to two week after the "due date." So here we sit, waiting for Junior #2 to arrive.

I've started drinking raspberry leaf tea, which is actually delicious and tastes like a nice strong black tea, only it's completely herbal and caffeine-free! Yipeee! The tea is not really supposed to bring on labor or anything, but studies have suggested that it might tone the uterus and cervix and prepare them for labor, as well as create conditions which will make labor shorter and more effective and with fewer complications, like excess bleeding. If nothing else, I feel that the placebo-effect may be all I really need.

I've been having day dreams and night dreams (sound like a Ronnie Milsap song?) lately about my labor and how I both "hope" it will go and "plan" for it to go. With this pregnancy, I feel that one of the most powerful things I can do to prepare is to prepare my mind. My last labor and delivery did not turn out the way I had hoped and planned, and in a way that is all right, because we got our precious Henry out of the deal. This time, whatever happens, we will also get our precious Eddie out of the deal. But that doesn't stop me from empowering myself.

When I have braxton-hicks contractions, I close my eyes and try to feel every place they are affecting me. I try to imagine them being stronger, more intense, and longer-lasting. And then I visualize how I will deal with such contractions. I try to hear how I'll breathe and how I'll focus my energies on delivering my baby. I picture the positions I will use for comfort and to encourage the baby into and through the birth canal. I picture how my darling hubs will support me and care for me during all of this.

And at the end of all my imagining I try to see what that sweet little Eddie is going to look like. Because, really, that's mostly all I care about these days! :)

Schedules

My husband and I are pretty structured people. We don't much fly by the seat of our pants and we don't often do things spontaneously or out of the ordinary. So it is probably no surprise that we have raised our son on a schedule and routine.

We didn't set out to rigidly rule his life or anything, but we took notice of his natural patterns regarding sleep, nursing, and later eating, playtime, cuddling, etc. and incorporated these into our routines. We found that this approach suited our parenting style, our personalities, and luckily...our son's personality.

However, we have a son who likes his routine and schedule so much that small changes can really blow his mind. When we travel, he doesn't sleep all that well even though he is a TERRIFIC sleeper at home. When we have company (as we've had the last 4 days) he can get off his nap, eating and nighttime sleep schedules and become hyper, cranky, or both. I know there are some people in our life who think we shouldn't have him on a schedule or routine that is so rigid (I know this because we hear about it all the time...) But when I think about it, the person who really defined our son's routine was him! He's just one of those kids who likes certain things certain ways. And because I'm that type of person, too, (and so is my hubs) we sympathize with him and let our life structures fit us in a way that make us happy.

Sure, it means that for 2 or 3 or 4 weeks out of the year (total...when we travel or have guests) things get harried and out of whack. But for the remaining 48 or 49 weeks we have a life that ensures great eating and sleeping habits, and keeps us sane and happy and healthy. I wouldn't chose for us to have an unstructured and unpredictable lifestyle and routine all the time just so our son was more flexible during those rare times we have a housefull of guests or head off to our cabin or some other place. I wish the naysayers understood the math and logic in this argument. :)

Being thankful

Today I am thankful for my wonderful husband. I am also thankful for our precious son who makes me laugh and smile and cry tears of joy every single day. I am thankful for family and friends who've always been there for me.

I'm thankful for the delicious feast we had today. I am even more thankful that my sisters-in-law did almost all of the clean-up. I am thankful that my mother-in-law makes delicious gravy, because mine is ALWAYS awful.

And most of all, I am thankful that I got out of getting up at 4am to go "Black Friday" shopping with my mother-in-law, sisters-in-law and niece.

:)

Telling, not asking

My husband and I are probably "over-thinker" parents. I admit this. We waited until we were "older" (in our late 30's) to start a family and I think that by itself put us in a position to approach parenthood from a more analytical perspective.

We didn't want to be freaks about it, but we were pretty well read and researched long before our first son ever arrived. But it's funny how parents can fall into little bad habits anyway. This post is about my own bad habit.

I've noticed it a bit and my husband noticed it this weekend that I have fallen into the habit of "asking" Henry things instead of "telling" him what I want him to do. There are times when I want him to have the power to make decisions, but there are many, many other times when I simply want him to follow my instructions. "Do you want to put your hat on before we go out for a walk?" Nope, he doesn't. "Wanna get into your seat for dinner?" Surprisingly, no. "Will you sit on Daddy's ottoman to get your shoes on so we can go?" Nada. "Does Henry want to sit on the potty before bathtime?" Not a chance.

In just one day of trying to notice my behavior and change it, I already see a change in his. This is not to say that I've got it solved, as I heard myself TWICE today asking, "Do you want to put on your hat before we go outside?" But I see the difference and that will (hopefully) make me more consistent with saving my questions for those times when I really am ready to accept whatever Henry's answer would be to my question.

Wishing away a pregnancy...

The first time I was pregnant, I was amazed at women who would tell me they "couldn't wait for it to be over" or that they were sick of being so huge and pregnant. I thought it was the most miraculous thing in the world to be pregnant and though I also couldn't wait to have my baby and be a mommy, I loved feeling the baby moving inside me. I loved knowing that he was growing and devloping because of me and depending on me. I liked being treated differently by people and having people strike up conversations that made them happy, thinking about the wonderful time in a couple's life when they have babies. I loved it all.

But eventually, I, too, reached that point where I was huge, uncomfortable, couldn't sleep, could hardly eat, was always panting because of the baby up against my ribs, was always going to the bathroom because of the baby up against my bladder. I started being one of the women who wished away the end of her pregnancy.

It was glorious to have a baby, but when Henry was about a week old, I was sitting home alone holding him and realizing, "I'm not pregnant anymore." It made me a teeny bit sad, to be honest. And I felt like I had rushed through the last days and weeks wishing it would be over and didn't appreciate it more. So I vowed to do things differently the next time.

Ahem. This IS the next time and I find myself doing the same darn things! I've just hit 36 weeks and I'm now in that uncomfortable part of the pregnancy where I am huge and uncomfortable and all the other things I just listed. Though I do love feeling the baby move inside me and one of my very favorite things to do in the whole world (this pregnancy and last) is to sit with my shirt hiked up and rub and rub and rub my big old stretched-tight-as-a-drum belly, I am still finding myself eager for the end. It's a funny situation, I suppose, and one that I think just requires trying VERY very hard to live in the moment. Every pregnancy will end. That is a fact. So instead of wishing it away, I need to just rub that belly some more and enjoy every moment that I am still pregnant. Who knows how many times in my life I will get to experience these wonderful and truly miraculous feelings. And before I know it, the baby will be here no matter what I do and I can sit and rub him! :)

Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!

Today I received in the mail my newly purchased set of snap pliers. They are the tool I need to put those adorable and handy little poly-resin (plastic) snaps on my homemade diapers and diaper covers. (I don't like velcro very much...)

While I can tell that these pliers would not work for someone making a LOT of items needing snaps (a snap press is much more heavy duty, quicker and easier to use, and about 3x the price...) they seem like they will suit me just fine and I could not be more excited about them! I put snaps on a wool diaper wrap cover and one diaper today and will tackle the rest of my pile tomorrow.

I have decided to sew velcro onto a few of my homemade dipes, for nighttime use. After thinking it all through, I've decided that I don't want to be fussing with diaper pins or aligning snaps in the near-darkness of changing newborn diapers every few hours. So I'll have a special night-time diaper stash made up with velcro for fastening.

But oh boy! Wait just a day or two and I'll post a pic of my newborn-sized diaper stash complete with fasteners. I'm so excited! :)

Reading really IS fundamental!

Henry is almost 19 months old. He's a bit precocious. An only child. The center of attention with almost everyone he is around. (Mommy and Daddy, grandparents, many friends, etc.)



And lately he has started counting to 10. Because of my "let them be as stupid as possible for as long as possible" theory on raising children (honestly, I really mean this, and I can explain later...) Henry's interest in learning throws me for a loop. He is HUNGRY for books. All the time. He wants them read to him almost every hour that he is awake. At the same time, if no one is available to read to him, he'll sit in front of his bookshelf perusing his books on his own. It's very cute. He has many, many number books. He has books that count using stories, others than only show numbers and pictures and a few with some combination of that. In addition, the times that we do let him watch television, it is often the "Brainy Baby" videos (I blogged about it before...I do NOT believe these videos make a child smarter...they only entertain...but after learning about numbers in his books, I believe he recognizes them on the screen.) which count to 10 or above using bright images, cute kids, and catchy music.



So now the other day we caught Henry laying on the floor in front of a stack of various toys and he was counting. "One, twoooo, thwee, fo, fiv-uh, SIX!, seben, eight, nine, ten!" (He seems to like six.)



As for my "dumb as possible for as long as possible" theory... I've long thought (since before I was ever pregnant and considering being a mother myself) that children are best served by spending their young years doing child-like things. I'm not a huge fan of kids on the computer, kids watching a lot of TV, kids taking "classes" to learn stuff. I've always thought that a kid should and would be perfectly happy playing with mud, rocks, sticks, balls, etc. But then we had a baby of our own. I still hold most of my original theory, but we adapted as we discovered things we thought would be helpful in our family. Exhibit A is sign language. We had read and heard that teaching babies sign language cuts down on a lot of tantrums in the toddler years, because children have more of an ability to communicate their wants/needs/desires/frustrations. This has been mostly true for us. For us, sign language seemed to be a gateway into Henry's brain, causing him to become an EXPLOSIVE talker at an early age. He doesn't use any signs anymore, even though we still try to encourage it. He knows all the words and is happy using them. I don't know if this early introduction to communication is also what caused him to be so interested in books, talking, and now counting.



But he is also still quite happy when we bust him loose from the confines of the house and he can go sit in a pile of mud, play with a stick, lick a rock, and pour water all over his brand new sneakers. And this, though messy, makes me very happy.



I suppose we are halfway between my original "dumb" theory and having some sort of scholastic toddler. Oh well. :) The important thing, we know, is just to let him do those things he enjoys doing, expose him to different stimuli, keep reading to him, keep getting him outdoors, and keep letting him have fun.