Prenatal Reality Check

The first time that I was pregnant, I kept "What to Expect when you're Expecting" by my bedside, along with other various pregnancy related books, and read them religiously. It makes sense, really. I didn't really KNOW what to expect since I'd never done it before. So I researched, I read. I soaked up as much information as I could. I knew to the day when my baby had ears and eyelashes and tiny fingernails. I knew when my uterus was the size of a cantaloupe and my baby the size of a kiwi fruit. I showed up to my prenatal appointments with lists a mile long, detailed questions to ask the doctor, questions out of curiosity, questions seeking reassurance. I took excellent care of myself - no caffeine, lots of fruit and vegetables, and prenatal vitamins every single day. After the baby was born, my precision and exactness continued. I documented the day that Jordan first ate rice cereal, first held a spoon, sat up, crawled, and took his first steps. I knew his age down to the week until it was utterly ridiculous.

"How old is your baby?"

"He's 73 weeks."

Um, what?

I don't think there is anything wrong with this intensely wonderful enjoyment of a first baby. There will always be something special about the first time...

But then, you have more. Maybe two more, or three. Or four.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who notices a difference.

When pregnant with number 3/4/5:

"How far along are you?"

"Um, not far enough along to have stopped barfing yet."

"How big is the baby right now?"

"Um, small enough that it's still making me barf."

"Do you have any questions before we end your appointment?"

"Yeah, can I have cherry coke in an IV?"

After baby is born:

"How old is your baby?"

"Let's see... one? two? Hold on. Let me count backwards till his birthday."

"When did your little boy start walking?"

"Oh my gosh!! Look at the baby! He's walking!!"

"When did you start him on solids?"

"Just recently, actually. The other day, I found him in the corner sucking on a pork chop, so I figured he was ready."

Sometimes I feel a little guilty about the obvious lack of attention that my subsequent children have received as compared to the first. But really, I think they actually have an advantage. Sam and Lucy were particularly susceptible to any deficiency because, well, they came at once and when you have two babies, sometimes you feel like each baby gets much less Mommy than normal. But my twins have each other. It's a special relationship, more than compensating for any one-on-one time they might have missed. And Henry? He has three other people besides Mom and Dad that are crazy in love with him. I don't think he's suffering at all, even if I can't tell you how old he was when he started to crawl.

One thing is for sure though, no matter how closely you document, no matter how much you do or don't pay attention to the little things... It is never NOT a miracle to have a baby. It is never not thrilling to feel those first stirrings of movement, or to hear the heartbeat for the first time. It is never not a miracle to see your baby for the first time, to hold them close, feed them, see their first smile, or hear their first laugh. And that's the common denominator. Every pregnancy, and every mother is different. Some may keep a running journal of every little thing baby ever does, while others make casual observations of milestones and nothing more. But it's always a miracle. Always, always.

I sat on the spoon!

And that means I'm having a girl. I'm serious. My sister-in-law believes it is fool proof, and three for three within the family, she's been right. You want to try? Put two chairs side by side and have your spouse put a spoon on one chair, and a fork on the other. Now, without knowing which utensil is on which chair, back up, and sit down on one of the chairs. You sit on a spoon, you're having a girl, the fork, and you're having a boy.

So, yay for me! Ultrasound is in less than two weeks, so we'll let the doctor confirm what we already know then. Honestly, I'm feeling pretty strongly that it is a girl. But then, I really felt like Jordan was a girl too, and uh, he was not. This time though, it's been a pregnancy unlike any other. I've been so much sicker, have felt so different than I did with my boys... it's gotta be a girl, right? Right?!

For the record, I have marvelous boys, and wouldn't be disappointed, but since this is most likely the very last time I will walk down this road, I would love for Lucy to have a sister. I cannot, even for a moment, imagine my life without my sister. I would love for Lu to have that too. So. Let's hope the spoon is right.

So, we've entered a new stage of toddlerdom around here. I've officially titled it the "No, me!" stage. Because that is what I hear Henry say four hundred times a day.

"Can I help you put your shoes on?"

"No, Me!"

"Can I open your juice box for you?"

"No, Me!"

"Can I fix you some cereal?"

"No, Mommy. I do it all by me aself."

Sigh. Oh, the joys of budding independence.

Speaking of independence, the nursery leaders at church on Sunday brought Henry to me just before church was over and said, "He says he needs to go potty."

Uh, okay. Even though he isn't potty trained yet, I thought we could give it a try. So we did. We went to the potty, and he totally went. Who would have thought? When we got home from church that afternoon, we put him in underwear and he did great all day. And then, Monday morning, he handed his underwear right back to me, and said, "No Mommy, me wike diapers."

Lazy little stink. I'm not in any hurry, though. I mean, you can't blame the kid, right? The entire idea of having to actually control your bodily functions... it's got to seem overwhelming to a kid. We'll try again in ten years.

This, That and the Other. And my new design!

So, blog giveaways make me tired. They didn't used to. They used to just be simple little "leave a comment" and you might win type deals. But now? Good grief, the list of things you have to do to enter is longer than my grocery list. Sadly enough, it's made me stop entering. If I can get one complimentary entry by leaving a comment, I will. But if it comes down to following, twitty tweetering, blogging about it, and other such nonsense, I generally think, "Meh." And then I click away.

I totally get the reason for the extra entries. I mean, something generally awesome is being given away FOR FREE! Is it really so much to ask readers to help spread the word a little bit? I don't know that I necessarily think there's anything wrong with it, but still. It makes me tired. If I have to read the directions on how to enter more than once in order to make sure I did it all right, it suddenly becomes not worth it. I need simplification in my life. It's why I love Pioneer Woman's giveaways. Simple, straightforward, one entry per person. If only you didn't have to compete with 17,453 other entries...

So, three very random posts that make very little sense may show up in your reader from me today... maybe not. I tried to turn off feedburner when I posted them, and date them retroactively so you wouldn't get them, but now that feedburner is back on, it may still pull them in. See, I've added a link bar across the top of the page - About MommyJ, Best of Mommy Snark, Contact Me, that sort of thing. Those links had to, well, link to something, so I had to write posts to fulfill the need. So that's what they are. In case you wonder why I suddenly felt compelled to tell my readers about myself. If you didn't get them, the links are available at the top of my brand spankin' new blog design.

I'm very excited about it. It's been a long time work in progress because I, in my pregnantly indecisive state, can't hold an opinion for longer than five minutes. But my blog designer, the ever so talented Leelou has been very patient and accommodating. (You should click over and visit Leelou. She has free blog designs, blog design packages and all sorts of things to look at. It's worth the click.)What with a few other delays, her sick baby, a trip out of town, and other various and sundry aspects of life... the anticipation has been building! But now, drum roll, please... it's up. Yay! You'll have to tell me what you think. Unless you don't like it. Then I don't really want to know.

In other blog related news, I've had to enable word verification for my comments. I didn't want to do it. Like I said earlier, I like things to be simple. But the comment spam is getting annoying. If I thought you, my readers, wanted to know about cheap places to buy Via*gra, I'd research it and tell you myself.

In not blog related news, yesterday I was in Wal-Mart with Henry, when completely out of the blue, he looked at me and said, "Mommy, you so pitty!"

In one sentence he absolutely guaranteed my undying love for the rest of his existence. Not that it was ever actually a question, but good gracious, could my heart have melted any faster? It makes up for the time my oldest said, "Mom, are you really taking me to school wearing that? I don't mind going in late if I can wait for Dad to take me."

I don't know what his deal was... I mean, it wasn't exactly pajamas. And I was wearing a hat to cover my crazy bed head. I mean, what do these kids expect?

Denial.

When I was a baby, home from the hospital for just a few weeks, my older brother was apparently so distressed by the presence of his new baby sister, he thought he would take my removal into his own hands. My mother caught him approaching the front door, carrying me in a headlock, my tiny baby body dangling underneath. Thankfully, my Mother came to the rescue before he was actually able to throw me over the mountain. But I'm pretty sure that's where I was headed.

Lucky for my brother, I can't remember the incident and managed to love him anyway. We're still close, my near death experience long forgotten.

I fear history may repeat itself when this next baby arrives. Now that I'm starting to show, we've been talking to Henry about the baby. I worry about his adjustment the most. The older kids have been through this before, but Henry? I'm thinking he's really digging all the one-on-one time with Mommy he's getting now that the big kids are in school. When another joins the mix? I see a full on one man revolution. So, we're starting early with the "baby on the way" conditioning.

It isn't going well.

A few weeks ago, when we told Henry there was a baby in Mommy's tummy, he said, "No, Mommy. Da baby is wight here!" while pointing at himself.

Right, then. Maybe we'll just let him be the baby for a few more months.

Additionally, I'm having to continually remind Henry that he has to be careful when he climbs on my lap.

"Watch the belly," I'll say. Today I followed up with a question, wondering if he's made any progress towards acceptance.

"Henry, is there a baby in my tummy?"

"No, Mommy. It's JUST ME!"

He's got an iron will, that one. And he is NOT excited about being a big brother. A lot can happen in 4 1/2 months. Let's hope his attitude improves.

In other Henry news... we're nearly ready to start potty training. Aren't you excited for me? I think he's ready physically, and he's about the age his brothers were when they worked it out, so I'm gonna try. Who knows how it will go. Right now he's hugely motivated by Thomas the Tank Engine underwear, and I'm hugely motivated by the possibility of having one child out of diapers before another climbs in.

Really, I'm just motivated by how cute this. Little boys in little underwear? How else can you say adorable?

Veterans Day.

I'm married to a veteran. Did you know that? Fortunately, he served in a time when the world was not at war. But I value his willingness to serve just the same. He isn't the only person I know that is a currently serving or has served in the past; a cousin, an uncle, a father-in-law, and many, many friends. Thanks to all of you.

You rock.

This song comes off of my new favorite album, Slice, by Five for Fighting. I didn't make the video, but I love the message of the lyrics. Give it a listen, then thank the veterans in your life. They deserve it.