Climb On Board, Honey

Thank you all for the registry advice and suggestions! Based on your thoughts and recommendations, I finally feel like I have a bit of a handle on the issue and have begun the click-and-register process. I must admit, the thought of having those items in our house, and imagining using them, is pretty exciting stuff.

Yesterday my DH and I attended an all-day prenatal class. It addressed the pregnancy, labor, and delivery process and touched briefly on breast feeding, anesthesia and post partum. Overall it was a really good class with a great group of expectant parents and an engaging instructor.

Know what's kind of funny though? hee hee hee.

Several weeks ago when I told my DH that I registered for these classes, he made the off-handed comment that he'd go with me if I wanted, but suggested that he didn't think he'd really be involved in anything (or have to learn anything) until after the baby arrived.

Yesterday's class gave him quite a reality jolt. Goodbye 1950, hello 2010.

The class included a ton of information about the partner's role during labor, delivery and post partum. I honestly think my DH was in shock.

Ohhhhhhh.....the partner can be timing contractions during early labor, can assist mom in focusing, remaining comfortable, providing massage, offering cool (or warm) compresses, and giving lots and lots of verbal support and encouragement. The partner can give guidance in breathing, and of course, help mom in her birthing position (grab that leg, honey).

What? Not just stand by and watch? (hee hee hee....I had lots of silent, to-myself giggles yesterday).

We came home and my DH wanted to get his hands on that reading material and go through it again. There's a lot he has to know, after all (hee hee hee). And he is serious about this.

But really, he was very attentive during the class, I saw him nodding a lot to himself as he took in the information, and I know he wants to do everything he can to help me get through this and to help bring our baby safely into the world.

Everything except pull the baby from my womb, that is.

One of the videos we saw showed the father helping "catch" the baby as it was born, and as the baby was finally free of the mom's body, the father, with a slippery baby in his hands quickly said to the doctor or nurse something like, "Oh, here, get him, I don't want to drop him." My DH was horrified at the thought (remember that initially his hands trembled like a patient with Parkinson's when he had to give me the Delestrogen shots). I assured him he did NOT have to pull the baby from my body. He is so relieved.

Anyway, the bottom line is that the light has finally dawned on him that he has a huge role in all of this. And he wants to be prepared and do his best. Which makes me very happy. He even said something like he realized he will have to help me through most of labor until it's actually time to push.

Oh - one funny thing. He asked me whether I might want to have his sister, Wacky P, there for the birth - to help give comfort and support. I looked at him and said, "Hell no, I can't handle her when I'm half tanked, you think I want her there when I'm giving birth?" He just mumbled an "Oh" and let it go.

Yeah, right, let's all envision this: How about having my mother (giving advice but usually thinking of herself first), Wacky P (with her know-it-all superiority complex) and my MIL (asking me a million questions an hour) in the room while I give birth?

Ha! Heck no. I'd rather give birth by myself in a cornfield. (Yay for 2010 when a woman gets to make choices about what's best for herself during birth!)

So, there is still a lot to do, a lot to prepare for and a lot to think about. But at least I've finally got my DH on board the baby train! Wooo Wooo!
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Time to Register and Shop...But for What?

Thank you all, for the shoulder to whine on and the pats on the back. My outlook is better today and I'm just moving on and doing what needs to be done.

So the online registry process has begun. I am overwhelmed.

The simplistic me says, hey, all you really, truly need is a baby, a breast, a few diapers, some clothing and a safe place for him to sleep...everything after that is fluff.

But when you go through page after page of stuff, two questions keep coming up:
(1) what DO we really need? and
(2) of those items, which are best/safest?

Any suggestions/recommendations would be most appreciated.

I will share the one fact my research revealed that I found to be crucial. Do NOT use common crib bumpers. A baby old enough to turn over (but not old enough to realize he/she ought to turn back) can land face-first into those soft, plush, fabric-covered bumpers and suffocate. You can buy breathable, mesh bumpers that will keep tiny limbs from falling between crib slats but that will allow your baby to breathe.

I have added to my registry some of my favorite story books, baby music, some infant toys, receiving blankets and bedding. But I am stymied about bottles (glass, plastic, sterilizers, breast milk freezer bags, bottle warmers and so many brands!). When I was a pediatric nurse, this was never an issue. We used the one type of plastic bottle the hospital provided, and there might have been 2 nipple choices. Everything was disposable.

And after the bottle question, my questions, confusion and indecision mushroomed. Is an infant tub a necessity? A baby sling/carrier? There seem to be 8,000 strollers out there with all kinds of bells and whistles.

Wow. Help?
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Not Holding My Breath

Re: my previous post:

Yes, that's grass in the back yard. Not very pretty in winter - brown spots, soggy, etc. We've had bleak weather lately to boot. But having grown up in upstate NY, I just say, "At least you don't have to shovel bleak."

Thanks for the suggestions about skin tags. And I've decided to forgo the wall mural. I liked that "moon outside the open windows" thing, but I realized it's too big for the room.

More recent news:

I looked at my blog ticker and it seems I barely have 2 months to go! Or, as Lorraine, at Elderly Ovary pointed out (after a very scary episode and trip to the hospital), sometimes things happen before you intend.

So, life is getting busy.

I signed up for some prenatal classes and last weekend my DH and I took the maternity ward tour. It didn't amount to much more than walking from L&D to the post partum ward and listening to the super-cheerful guide tell us how the beds worked, where to park and where to enter the hospital when we arrive in labor.

I have spent a ton of time painting. The baby's room walls, the closet, the chair rail, the touch-ups. I have breathed enough paint fumes to last me a long while.

I researched cribs (thanks, An Offering of Love!) and we went shopping to look at a few. I then researched the particular cribs we liked for recalls, safety issues and reviews. We are actually ready to make a purchase!

My co-workers announced that my office baby shower will be February 3rd. I need to go online Friday and get registered for baby things! I need to do a little research and make a list first, since I really have no idea what the important items are (other than the obvious big items - car seat, swing, bouncer, etc).

I have the name of a daycare facility located a few blocks from my office. I have yet to call them, but it's on the list of things to do.

I signed up for a breastfeeding class that I will go to next week.

I spoke with the folks at doggy daycare to let them know my due date and made sure they'll take the dogs when I get admitted to the hospital.

Do you see a pattern here?

Yes, the pattern would be that I am doing everything and my husband has not lifted a finger to help.

Oh, he went with me to the materinty tour and baby furniture store. And he sat next to me while I went online to get a furniture price quote. He emptied the dishwasher the other day and he rolled the garbage can to the curb.

But I feel like this baby is, and has been, my project, start to finish. And I have to admit, it's a little disappointing. I haven't asked him to do much, but one doesn't always want to have to ask.

One wants their partner to notice them swooning from toxic paint fumes and rush in to offer to finish the final two square feet of wall.

One wants to ask their partner if he wouldn't mind spending 5 minutes spray lacquering 4 little pieces of wood trim and get a "Sure, honey" response, instead of "Well, I'm going to be pretty busy today."

One would like if their partner noticed the fact that they spent 5 hours online after work researching baby safety issues, and ask if there are any other issues that he could help research.

One would really like if their partner noticed the gray film attaching itself to the bathtub and offer to scrub it with bleach so that his pregnant wife doesn't have to choose between breathing more fumes and showering amid gray film.

One would faint from shock if their partner actually purchased a baby item on his own. Any item. A single diaper even.

One would be grateful if their partner would, just once, have dinner ready when she got home from work.

You know? One just would hope.

Yeah, I'm a little frustrated tonight. There's a lot to get done and I can see who will have to do it all, plus work full time (and, BTW, the big litigation case did not settle. It's back on.).

Now you know I LOVE the idea of shopping and nesting and preparing for my baby boy's arrival. I even loved the painting although it eventually ceased to be fun and ultimately became tedious. And I know there are women out there who would give their pinky fingers to be in my position. I am eternally grateful for this pregnancy and wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

I just would like to see a smidgen of interest and involvement from my spouse. In the work that it takes to get things ready. I'd like to feel like I was truly half of a partnership preparing to bring a baby into the world. Not a single mom with a roommate in the back of the house, doing whatever it is he does, which inevitably amounts to addressing his own needs.

I'd like, just once, for him to ask me if there is anything he can do to help.

Just once. You know?
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30 Weeks [with update at bottom about wall art]

Welcome newest followers!

I am now 30 weeks pregnant. The time seems to be going by in the wink of an eye.

Today I had an OB appointment. My OB group has 7 docs. Today's visit was with the doctor who first referred my DH and me to an IF clinic 3 years ago (the dreaded OMC, of all places!). It was the first time I'd seen this doc since then. I had a wonderful visit with her.

Baby boy is measuring right on target. My weight gain is currently at 22 pounds. The doc was happy with that. I've been having some low cramping that feels like good ole AF-is-about-to-arrive cramps, but no bleeding. The doctor said this is fairly normal when the baby has turned head down. So she wasn't worried a bit. I often feel like baby boy is huddling low in my pelvis.

I also showed her the "nipple that grew a nipple" which she said is just a skin tag and can be removed after I have the baby (I actually suggested that I might tie a thread around the tag to cut off the blood supply and she said that would be fine - but I should wait till after the baby is born because it'll bleed like crazy during pregnancy).

I met with someone from my office's HR department yesterday to talk about maternity leave. Turns out, I'll be able to receive 50% of my pay for 6 weeks post partum (or 8 weeks in case of C-section). Hey, it's something. My DH and I would like for me to be able to take 6 months off, and I think we'll be able to manage it.

I'm still working on the baby's room. I'm leaning toward staying with the current color scheme. I found a really sweet wall decal. I have not decided on it 100% (good grief - nearly $90!) but I think it is adorable. The first picture is the decal itself and the second is part of the advertisement showing how it would look.




Physically, I feel good for the most part. I often wake up in the morning with a sore back, but it generally feels much better once I am up and about. Although two morning ago I woke up thinking baby boy was trying to kick out my left kidney.

I am a little short of breath with minimal exertion.

I am having to use my left hand (non-dominant) to shave my left leg because I cannot reach the left side of my left leg with my right hand (I have a shaving obsession and cannot go more than 1 day without shaving my legs).

My belly button has become quite tiny.

We are signed up for prenatal classes (at last!) that will take place over the next few weeks.

All in all, it's a really beautiful time in my pregnancy.



--------UPDATE------------
I was so excited about the wall decal I didn't read the description very well. It is not a decal at all. It appears to be more like a wallpaper mural - that has to be pasted to the wall. Hm. I wish it was a decal. The company/website is called "Decorating Heaven" and the page for this particular mural is here http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.decor.net.au/images/rooms/baby-01-07.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.decor.net.au/c/b-and-n/b-n-murals.htm&usg=__khcVYe8yC3Ud7HOm0EnMsSPNW_s=&h=455&w=455&sz=31&hl=en&start=35&sig2=qnKjOU8WVMMPXOZlTrWXfg&tbnid=I0dMjOJx7q5iFM:&tbnh=128&tbnw=128&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dnursery%2Bmurals%26gbv%3D2%26ndsp%3D20%26hl%3Den%26rls%3Dig%26sa%3DN%26start%3D20&ei=lHVFS7fBG5zIMqbJsIcD

Door Number 1, Door Number 2 or Door Number 3?

I have this memory of my Dad taking my two sisters and I to a toy store once. I would guess that I was between 8 and 10 years old. He surprised us by turning into the toy store parking lot, and said each of us could choose a toy (I'm sure he imposed a dollar limit, but I recall it being fairly generous).

My sister M went and found the doll she wanted in no time. Holding the box in her hands she peered at the doll's smiling face through the clear cellophane. My younger sister, T, chose one of those toy sets that included plastic high heels, a bracelet, a necklace and maybe even a ring.

Me? I wandered from aisle to aisle, shelf to shelf. Maybe this? Maybe that? Maybe a game? Maybe a doll? Maybe a stuffed animal? Maybe a card game? I couldn't decide!

There were a thousand choices, and I realized that once I committed to one of them, the remaining options would no longer be available to me. How could I give up on all those possibilities?

So, as long as I did not choose, I could have anything. But once I made a selection, that would be it.

I was stuck in this crazy dilemma. I mean, I was a kid being offered the chance to choose a toy! C'mon! This is what childhood dreams are made of. And yet, as I looked at and considered item after item, possibility after possibility, I began to loathe the idea of sacrificing everything else by choosing one.

My sisters were becoming impatient.

"C'mon BWUB, just pick something!" M whined.

"How about this nice stuffed doggie?" little T suggested, pointing to a very cute stuffed animal.

My eyes grew wider. I was being pressured to choose. They urged me more and more (although my sweet Dad, the most patient man on earth, just waited, following me from aisle to aisle as I tried to decide).

Ultimately, I made the only decision I could.

I turned to my Dad and said quietly, "I don't think I want to choose anything."

"Nothing?" he asked, a bit incredulous.

"No. I don't see anything I want." I replied. Now that wasn't entirely true. I did see things I wanted, I just couldn't bring myself to choose one above the others.

He paid for my sisters' items and we left the store. I remember thinking about it all the way home - the fact that I couldn't bring myself to decide. I swear this is a true story, and I was honestly relieved that I didn't have to choose.

// And so......... //

I'm not sure I like the colors I painted the baby's room. Blue and yellow. I'm not sure they are the colors I want to choose. I'm having a hard time deciding.

Yes, even after I taped and painted.

Today I was googling nursery murals, and now I'm thinking, hm, a mural might be kind of cool. I mean, check these out:




Okay, I can't do anything too fancy or intricate, but even if I did something a little simpler, most of them have backgrounds that are pale - like oatmeal color. Which means I'd have to re-paint, or find some way to incorporate a one-wall mural into the colors I have.

Or maybe I should just finish what I have, put things on the walls, get the furniture into place and say "What a nice room I made."

Oh, choices, choices. How to decide?
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Blue?

Nearly two years ago when my cousin had a baby girl (her second child), my mother groaned and complained to me that she (my mom) did not like the baby's name. I remember thinking (and I even posted about it), who cares what the name is....she has a baby!

Well, that's how I felt. But now, you see, I do care. I care about my baby's name, and about other things. I look at it like this: I am getting ONE chance in this life to have a baby (I hope and God willing). I want his name to be something I like. I want him to wear baby clothes that I like. I want to pick the color of his room. You know?

Imagine you've just gotten engaged, and it's time to plan your wedding. You begin to think about all the fun things....trying on wedding gowns, picking the colors for your wedding, choosing the food for your reception, tasting cakes and picking the design, flavors and frosting for your cake, will you have a live band or DJ? Where will the wedding be? The reception? What sort of fun favors will you give your guests? Yeah, these things are costly...but they're fun. It's your one wedding, and even if you don't have a big budget, you can't wait to start the planning.

Now imagine your mother, ever-so-well-intentioned, says to you, "Don't bother trying on wedding gowns, because - HERE - I'm giving you this gown." And when you start dreaming of your colors, and you mention to her that you are thinking of "blue," she nearly bites her tongue off saying, "Blue?! What shade of blue?!" Because, you must realize, that your color choice will have to meet with her approval, and she is suddenly gripped with fear that you are thinking of some gaudy, too-bright, horrible shade of blue that she will be compelled to tell you makes your skin tone look like death. And when you tell her that you've chosen XYZ as the location for the reception, she can't seem to stop suggesting that you consider ABC, then DEF, or perhaps GHI.

Welcome to my life with my mom.

I told her I was going to look at paint colors for the baby's room. "Oh, what color are you thinking of?" she asked, ever-so-casually (but I knew what was coming).

"Blue" I said.

"Blue?!" (you'd have thought I'd said neon pink). "What shade of blue?!"

"Oh, something really horrible and dark and gruesome" I said flatly.

"I"m just asking" she replied, hurt.

Well, yeah, maybe she was just asking. And maybe (more likely) she wanted to be sure she approved and that I wasn't about to make an irreversible mistake in painting the baby's room Midnight Cobalt.

Sheesh.

We've chosen a first name (to be revealed upon his birth). I mean, we've chosen. My DH and I refer to him by his first name now. My mom? She's still tossing names out there for us to consider.

"Did you know Joshua is one of the top ten names? I like Joshua. How about Jake? I always liked the name Jake. I also like Taylor. What about Andrew?"

I mean, she knows the name. Apparently she does not entirely approve of it.

Remember my analogy of the wedding gown given to the bride, with instructions not to bother trying on gowns? Yeah. My mom actually told me not to buy baby clothes. She told me to save our money to buy diapers and bottles. She sent me a 20 pound box full of newborn clothes. Do you have any idea how many outfits it takes to make 20 pounds?

This will be my one newborn baby. Might it occur to my mom that I - the baby's mother - might want to buy my baby a few outfits? That it's fun to shop for baby clothes in the way it is fun for a bride to go try on wedding gowns? Apparently not. Let me tell you, there are more baby clothes in the box my mom sent than could possibly fit in a closet and dresser combined. More than the baby could possibly wear before he outgrows them.

I cried when the box arrived. My DH, bless his heart, told me that we could store the box out in the garage and I can go buy whatever baby clothes I want. I haven't opened the box again since.

It's not that I'm ungrateful. And my DH pointed out that it's good that my mom wants to be involved (despite the fact that the baby is not the precious granddaughter she wanted). But he also told me not to let her hijack this experience from me. Hijack. That's just the word he used. I know she's trying to be helpful, but it was beginning to feel like I was being hijacked.

So today, I painted the baby's room. I wanted a soft, pale, blue/gray/violet color. Not yet dry, it looks a little too violet and not enough blue. And if I don't like it, my DH said "Paint's cheap" and I'll go buy another gallon that is more blue.

Although my quads are already aching, my back is sore and my hand is cramped from rolling/painting, I enjoyed every minute working on his room today. After all, this is my one chance.
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Happy New Year

Happy New Year!

As I write this post, my DH and I are watching the Tw/ilight Z/ one Marathon. We've done it twice a year since we met. It runs for a couple of days during the July 4 holiday and again at the New Year.

It's a bit nostalgic for us this time because the last time we watched the marathon, in July, we were in the hotel room where I was on strict bed rest immediately after my FET. Waiting and wondering if the transfer would work. Watching the episodes we again watch now.

The difference is that now, 6 months later, I have a baby boy wiggling in my belly.

This weekend I am making homemade scones. We'll go look at paint colors today for the baby's room. Maybe even look at some furniture. If I find paint I like, my DH might start painting. Otherwise, it will be a low-key start to 2010 for us.

I hope that this new year brings joyous change to your life. I hope that in December 2010, you will reflect back and smile with a full heart, remembering the wondrous blessings you experienced and the dreams fulfilled.

Have a wonderful first day of the year.
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