Aggle Flaggle Klabble

Well... Christmas is over, and sadly, I'm glad. 

While Girl should have been amazed and astounded at the wonder of it all... or at least sugar-buzzed and over-excited, she wasn't.  The poor kid has been suffering from a nasty bout of the dreaded influenza, and though the fever has been gone for a bit, she's apparently not happy unless she's asleep.  Two days ago she was awake a grand total of 5 hours, and yesterday wasn't much better.  Today, however, being Christmas day, she didn't get a nap, (though, in the spirit of full-disclosure, she did sleep until 1pm) and it was a brutal day for us both.  She could care less about presents, or food, or decorations or candy.  She felt miserable and I felt miserable because there was nothing I could do for her.

I know this won't scar her for the rest of her life, and she likely won't have panic attacks come next Christmas, but it really makes me feel crappy.  She is such a fun and crazy kid, and this would have been some parties she would really have enjoyed!  Instead, she was happiest when I put her in her bed. 

It's really hard not to feel as though I should have done something better, or tried harder or somehow been given a Christmas miracle that would have made it all better. Poor kid.  Poor mom.  I know I'm just beating myself up for no good reason, and logically, I understand, but maybe the pregnancy hormones are also kicking in, because I'm pretty down and out.

I just want a do-over... but give us both a week to recouperate.

Open Letter to Girl.

Dear Girl,

I love you, but let's face it...  no matter how many times you say "I don't want my nap"  you're still going to get one.

That is all.

Sincerely...  your loving mother.

Yes, I am opinionated. I know that.

Let me say this right off the bat...  I am not a risk taker, so articles like this one make me uncomfortable.  I read about it on a pregnancy forum and there were definite mixed reviews.  I knew how I felt, and I knew what many of the comments would be, but I read them anyway.  The basic story is that there was a woman, who after having 3 c-sections, got pregnant and decided against her doctor's wishes to give birth naturally at home.  Miraculously, everything was fine... hence the article (and it's subsequent airtime on pregnancy forums everywhere).  There was a lot of praise for the woman for being "strong enough to stand up to her evil doctor"... those people who "felt uncomfortable" or thought the mom was lucky were quickly shot down and insulted.

Apparently the motivation was a sense of being "robbed" by being forced into c-sections.  The general consensus is "once a c-section, always a c-section" because scar tissue is weak, and previous scars can rupture.  This woman was unable to find a doctor within 90 miles who would entertain a "VBAC"  (vaginal birth after c-section), so therefore ignored all of their advice and decided to give birth at home. 

I know women have been giving birth at home for thousands of years, every home-birth advocate is quick to remind us of that... however, they are less quick to mention that until the advent of things like c-sections, hospitalized births, etc etc, childbirth was the NUMBER ONE KILLER of women (by a wide margin).  Now I think it's heart disease. 

I have a lot of trouble with people who talk about "doctors who'd rather cut you open than wait a few more hours for a baby to come out naturally".  I had a baby...  I saw the doctor a few times, but I think a c-section would have monopolized significantly more time.    Oh wait...  the fact that the doctor wasn't in the room the whole time is ALSO a bad thing.  Good grief.  Poor doctors.  They just can't win.  

First of all...  if your doctor is going to cut you open out of boredom or laziness... get a new doctor.  C-sections are major surgery.  I was stuck at 9.5 centimeters for 10 hours, and they did talk about a c-section, partially because I wasn't progressing and partially because there was an abnormality in the baby's heart rate during contractions.   I didn't have one.  They opted instead to have me take naps (ANNOYING!) and rest on my side in hopes that the baby would shift and that we could avoid surgery. 

I'm glad I didn't have to have a c-section, but not because I would have felt robbed of some rite of motherhood, I just didn't want to stay in the hospital any longer.   I always wonder why we don't give ourselves a break sometimes.  Ok, so, you had to have a c-section, big deal, your baby is alive and healthy and so are you.  (Likely not the case before they came up with this brilliant idea).  After my mom gave birth to my brother via c-section, they sent a counsellor into her room to help her deal with the grief of "not being a real mom".  She looked at them, square in the eye, and said "I don't care if you took the baby out through my nose, I am a real mom."

Isn't that the point of being a real mom? Being willing to make sacrifices of yourself and what YOU want because that is what's best for the baby.  I'm not a doctor... I didn't go to school for a million years and the deliver thousands of babies in a variety of different ways... so I think I'll defer to the experience of others.  (That, and unless my husband is a doctor, and I live across the street from a hospital, and I have a self- cleaning house, I would never choose to give birth at home). 

There are some risks I am willing to take... but guessing about the life of my baby and the life of my baby's mom is not one of them.

Every baby is different.

I think I swallowed a very large goldfish (or two) and they are trying to figure out how to get through my intestines.  Oh wait...  my intestines aren't there anymore.

I remember this, vaguely, but this time it seems so early.  I think I felt my first baby flutters at about 18-19 weeks last time, and here I am at 17, and we're well beyond flutters.  Husband actually felt some definite kicks last night, which he wasn't able to do until well past 20 weeks last time. 

It's interesting.  They say that second-time moms feel the baby earlier, mainly because they know what it's supposed to feel like and are better able to discern between normal digestion and the baby, but do the babies themselves progress faster?   I can't believe that's the case.  I suppose I can chalk it up to "every baby/mom/pregnancy is different"  which is pretty much the catch-all excuse for anything when it comes to babies.    Ok, so I do still have that silly little doubt that there is only one in there, but I'm trying to reform.

I have also, after much more severe morning sickness this time around, lost all of my normal gag reflex.  I tried to throw away some leftover veggie dip yesterday (it wasn't even mouldy or gross, just questionable) and it made me toss my cookies...  or my bagel, as it were.    Here's hoping Girl doesn't get the flu again...  sympathy puking at its best.

I'm going to be crooked again.  The baby has far surpassed the "1-2 inches below your belly button" point (where I'm supposed to be), and has also taken over my entire right side, pretty much to my ribs already.  It won't be long before my shoulders start to go a bit cock-eyed.  I have a doctor's appointment today, so I'm prepared to hear the normal battery of questions.  "How far along are you?"... "Are you SURE of your dates?"...  "Do twins run in the family?"...  aaaaah.  nothing like doctors to reassure you.

Two is company, three is a crowd.

I have a strange kind of superstition.  I don't know why.  No one else seems to understand it, so it can't be inherited.  I guess it's just something I came up with along the way. 

When I was pregnant with Girl, I was a walking contradiction.  I measured way too big, but wasn't showing much at all.  I was warned about twins and the whole time I hoped for them.  People thought I was nuts, but my reasoning was somewhat sound.  You see, I wanted 2 kids, and it seemed more my style to do it all at once.  Go big or go home!  Of course, but the time I had my ultrasound I knew it wasn't to be. 

Now, I fear I have set myself up for the ultimate "God-has-a-sense-of-humor-moment."  It's this time before the ultrasound that messes with my head (and it doesn't help that I somehow end up with late ultrasounds EVERY TIME!)  I'm too big again, which should be obvious, since it's the same as last time, but now, it just seems more appropriate for my type of luck. 

The thought of twins NOW is terrifying.   Purely the logistics of the situation are beyond me.  I couldn't even buy groceries without needing another person. 

Luckily, my superstition has another odd side to it.  I heard from my SIL yesterday, who had been speaking with a pregnant store clerk.  Apparently she was looking a little shell-shocked and mentioned that she just found out she was having twins and she had a 2-year-old at home.

AAAH.  Relief. 

Someone else came along and stole my scary destiny. 

All is well in Whoville!