Take a Bite out of Boob Class

I went to "Breastfeeding 101" last night with a dear friend of mine who is also pregnant, sparing my husband from such details as cracked nipples and cabbage leaves. However, when we were walking up to the classroom at the women's hospital, by the sheer numbers of men in the room, I was sure we were about to walk into the wrong class, like "childbirth" or something. But no, it was correct. And my surprise didn't end there! No, it didn't! Not only were the men vigorously taking notes on things like how long a woman has colostrum and when it turns to breastmilk, and details on the La Leche League, but most of the people asking questions were actually the men! I was astonished! And I can't help it, but part of me was even a little jealous. Then I thought about it again and decided I really don't mind owning the information myself and not having my husband standing over me with his notebad saying "Honey, I think you're doing that wrong."

But there were times in the class when I knew full well that it was best that I went with a girlfriend rather than my husband, because we probably would have been kicked out of the class for being the most immature adults in the room. Like, say, for instance, when the instructor brought out the little stuffed boob that looked like a burger with a nipple on it. Complete with a pull-cord which I must admit I spent half the class wondering what on earth the pull cord did, like did the boob say something when you pulled it? Or did it vibrate? (Later, I found out when you pulled the cord, it inverted the nippy to show what happens when a woman with inverted nippies tries to breastfeed -- kind of a boring toy now, but definitely useful). Anyway, that's neither here nor there. It was when she was demonstrating the latch that I know my husband and I would have completely and immaturely lost it. Because she likened how an infant tries to latch onto the boob to how an adult would eat a burger, and proceeded to turn the flat stuffed boobie sideways and take a bite. I'm still laughing thinking about it now.

So yes, my friend and I were the only ones in the class who already had kids but were taking the class anyway. But I had a lot of questions this time around because I didn't get a chance to take the class last time before Aidan was born because he was early, and I wanted to prepare better for breastfeeding this time around and try to go a little longer than I did with Aidan. Although I still have a slight problem with the idea of a person who has never given birth or breastfed teaching a breastfeeding class. This was the case last night and it was the case as well during our childbirth class. But I guess there's enough science behind it to for someone to teach that part of it. Still, I always feel like it's like a journalist reporting about a hurricane while standing in the sunlight under a bright blue sky rather than being knocked over by the sheer wind and rain.

Well----It's a .........

So...I promise I won't "bury the lead" as we say in "news-speak" so here it is.

IT'S A BOY!!!!!!!!!

And if you look closely, there is no question about it. Of course, I added a few arrows to the picture to help make seeing "everything" a little easier, but even with the arrows it really is hard to make out. Without further adieu, here's the view from the bottom: (Sorry, Baby #2, for putting your twig and berries out there for all to see, I hope one day you'll forgive me).

So sorry it took this long for this post, but as you can imagine, it's been quite a day. After the barrage of phone calls to tell our family who was completely busting all morning, I had a lovely migraine that kept me leveled for the most of the day so I had to postpone my own excitement. Absolute elation I should say. I couldn't sleep a wink last night. Not because I wanted today to go one way or the other, I just really wanted to know. With Aidan, it was a joy knowing there was a little boy in there; he had a name and everything, and a little tiny personality. I knew his wakey times and his sleepy times, and he kicked me darn hard. I knew exactly how he was going to turn out and I was right. This one, already, is a bit more demure; very active, but not as boisterous. I think this will turn out to be an asset for him as he battles his big brother. I am just too excited about my little boy having a little boy to play with and grow up with. It just makes me melt thinking about it. Because they're so close together, Aidan will never, ever, have a memory that doesn't include his little brother, and I love that. My best friend's little boys are just a little closer in age than mine will be, and they look like twins. I'm excited to see what this one will look like. And to those in my family, take a look at that profile below! I think I see a little bit of that famous "Hill" overbite!!!!

Actually, these profile sonogram pictures are my very favorite. I just love seeing that tiny nose and head from the side. (Melting again.) And can I just state for the record, that asking a pregnant woman to fill up her bladder so the sonogram can come out much more clear, then making her wait for an hour for the appointment she was on time for is just pure cruelty!? It's even harder to sit and do the pee-pee dance than it is to stand and do the pee-pee dance. FYI. Though the appointment was a busy one, including the sono, the actual doctor's visit, and of course, the weekly butt shot, migraine included, almost everything was good news. The one iffy thing, which I am told is very common, is that my placenta is a little further south than it should be. It's not far enough to be considered "previa" (where it's covering the cervix), but it is further down than is comfortable. But it commonly makes its way northward naturally when the uterus expands, and it already has started making that trek. We will have another sonogram in a month to make completely sure it has done that. I will not worry. Instead, I will pick out nursery decor. (If you're the praying kind, if you could just put a word in for me in your list of prayers every once in a while for the next, oh, say, 20 weeks, I would so appreciate it. Not a night goes by that I don't pray to go another day, another week, another trimester, with this baby. I have resorted to begging. I suppose if the guy above hears a bunch of people asking Him for the same thing, he may be gracious enough to give me a hand and nudge me along to a nice, fat 41 week baby.I've always been a big fan of the "rally".)

Other than that, Aidan didn't quite understand that he's going to have a baby brother, but he does point to my belly when I ask, "Where's the baby?" and say "Dat!" Sometimes he points to my boobs, but I don't blame him. Mommas got a few little bumps to choose from and a little baby can't always discern each bump from the other. Ahhhh. I'm so excited. This is going to be a ride.

Aidan Walking!!

Here he is!! Proof of walking!! He still doesn't walk by default, but he's gaining confidence with every step. Yay Aidan!!!

The Group Thing

Two years, I've been with the same OB office now, and I am still undecided about the whole "group doctor" thing. There are 9 in my practice. I have met all of them, and like all of them except one; the one who, when I was bleeding in my 8th week, told me (coldly), "Well, you'll just have to wait it out for the next 72 hours to see if you miscarry," and hung up. Without a goodbye, or a "I realize it's not easy for you to hear this..." or something a little more cushiony. (I need cushion. Sugarcoat away.) The funny thing is, the more I seem to not like her, the more I seem to keep getting an appointment with her. The practice is uberbusy, and they really have to work at getting you in for an appointment. You can request a doctor, but if you're looking for a certain time, you gotta take what you can get. My group has a really good reputation and the women's hospital is down the street. But I've found that not all of the doctors in the practice have the same opinion on everything. So now it's kind of like a personal joke to me, I poll the doctors at every appointment, asking them all the same questions I've asked the others, because I am interested to know all their different answers. Some are passionate about certain foods, others couldn't care less. I've found that two out of three believe whole-heartedly in the progesterone shots I am taking. One said it probably doesn't matter. At my last visit, I found out I was now considered a "high risk" patient because I saw the big red letters splashed across every page of my chart. That's funny, because when I asked the doctor I had in the previous visit if I would be considered "high risk", he said, "No. We don't base a high risk pregnancy on previous pregnancies. And since there are no problems popping up right now, you're ok." I asked a different doctor after seeing my new label on my chart if it was simply because I started the shots, and she said, "No, it's because you had a previous premature birth and you were pre-eclamptic last pregnancy."

Hmmm.

So, as a journalist, I can appreciate the group thing because it is like getting a free second opinion at every visit, and from this, combined with my own research, I can flush out my own opinion. It's important to be your own advocate, after all. And it's a little scary to wonder that if I had one doctor, with one opinion, forever and ever, would I be getting the right care? On the flip side, that doctor would know me very well, instead of the nine doctors who randomly get me and have to see my chart to remember my name. And again, on the flip side, I could know my one doctor really well, but on "labor day" he/she could be unavailable and I would deliver with some doctor I've never met ever. Oh the quandry. I just can't figure it out. I do like the intimacy of just one doctor. But I do like the fact that no matter what, in a group, I will know my delivering doctor, whomever I get. I guess I wish that as a group, they were more unified in their answers and views, even on things as simple as which herbal teas to avoid.

So here's the question, because I am so curious to find out what you other mothers out there think.

Do you prefer a group practice or one doctor?
	I had a group practice. Loved it!
	I had a group practice. Hated it!
	Just one doctor for me! Loved it!
	Just one doctor for me! Hated it!
pollcode.com free polls

Please leave me a comment and tell me what you think!

Thank you ma'am may I have another!

In addition to grass day, don't forget, yesterday was also "butt shot day". Yes, how exciting for me. At least I had a new yard full of green grass to look forward to when I got home from my Dr's appointment. I am happy to report that the shot, as scary as the crazy ridicu-needle is, (have I told you how long this thing is???!!!) did not hurt one bit! It actually hurt more to get blood drawn for tests later on in the appointment. All that worry for nothing. I have no problem whatsoever, driving in every week to get that shot. None. It was almost a pleasure. As long as the needle is, it's actually very skinny, and the skinnier the needle is, the less it hurts, no matter how deep it goes. I hadn't thought of that. But honestly, when a doctor calls a shot "painful", you start to panic. Doctors are known for saying "This won't hurt a bit". So when they actually say the word "painful" you're looking forward to a kind of torture. But no pain whatsoever. Very excited about this fact. I also was happy to learn, that despite my growing chest, which has hit the "d" mark by the way (yayyy!!! Pregnancy is great!!), I actually lost two pounds. How can that be? There is no shortage of Klondike Bars in my freezer, I can tell you that much. My little weightloss means I have only gained 3 pounds this pregnancy. Sweet! I have found, though, that when I eat my meals the same time I feed Poops, I'm so busy prepping and cutting for him, and eat my meal in between feeding him, that it takes me longer to eat and I get full much faster. I wonder if that's it. He's been using the fork very well, but it requires me to "load" and "reload" it for him. I remembered a few weeks back thinking that I have really embarked on the "mom eats last and when she does, it's cold" phase of life. Like in A Christmas Story, when everyone keeps asking for seconds and the mom doesn't get a bite in edgewise. (Ralphie says something like, "my mom hasn't eaten a hot meal in years".) I have already had that experience when we were at a gathering a couple weeks ago where I was so concerned about everyone else eating that I made a plate for everyone else, but by the time I got up to go fill up my plate there was nothing left. Oh the joy! I digress.

We find out if it's a boy or a girl on July 11th!!!!!!!! Three weeks!!!! Holy crap!! I'm really excited. I guess I have a feeling that we'll see a tiny little "something" between its legs, but I can't figure out if that's because I'm so used to everyone in my life saying "it's a boy!" or not. But either way, I have nursery-theme contenders for both, so I am really excited to get started on that room. Of course, it would really be nice to be able to buy the beautiful dresses I see in the little girl's department around Easter time (cute little tiny shiny shoes and hats and tights my God!) but if not this time, I can wait. If it's a boy, we'll probably go for the tie-breaker. But any way it goes, ever, we will be blessed. Happy First Day of Summer everyone! Here's to a very, very, slow-slash-non-existent Hurricane Season!)

I Can't Believe Our Walk is Saturday!!! Already!!

Well, our fundraising efforts for the March of Dimes are winding down. That was quick! The walk is this weekend and we are up to more than $540!! I set a really large goal of $2,000 and we didn't make it quite that far, but what we did raise so far was still a great accomplishment, so I am not disappointed. How could I be? I have some wonderful friends, relatives, and friends in the blogging community who have reached out to sponsor us. And I sincerely thank everyone who did, I just cannot begin to tell you how much it means to me that you supported a cause that has become so near and dear to my heart. (By the way, if you haven't sponsored us yet and you feel so inclined, please, by all means, feel free to click on the button with the little tiny baby Poops right there on the top of my sidebar to contribute! It takes you straight to the March of Dimes page.) Again, hugs and kisses to all of you.

Poops' birthday and this walk both really round out an eventful, emotional year for me. Today, I finished a scrapbook I've been working on of only the time we spent in the hospital NICU after Poops was born. Pictures of him in his incubator, his visitors, our hospital and NICU bracelets, an Easter card he got from a volunteer group, his discharge papers, footprints, the NICU handbook, all of it. I started working on it a few months ago because I thought it would be therapeutic for me and I couldn't have been more right. When Poops turned about 10 months old, I remember hearing someone say, if you don't move on from something traumatic in your life, you are literally punishing yourself day after day after day. Punishing yourself so that you remain in that day or period of your life and you live those days over and over again. The person called it "self abuse" and what you have to do is forgive yourself, thank God for the experience of it and move on. I wasn't sure if I was ready to move on at that moment, but I did realize that hey, that was me. I was stuck in that two-week period and I had to do something. That is the week I began to let it all go. I began the scrapbook. I joined the fight against prematurity by fundraising for the March of Dimes. And I had a dear friend of mine who also had a premature baby and by helping her, I realized I was also actually helping myself. This literally all happened within the same week. And I stopped crying every day. The fog lifted and I finally felt like celebrating. My healing had finally begun! Now, the same month Poops turns one, I am walking for prematurity and would you believe, I have also finished the scrapbook. Such a fitting end to a chapter of my life that I will always remember as a difficult blessing. It all seems to be coming to a close at the same time, and a new chapter is beginning, complete with another new life on the way! It brings a tear to my eye, but it is a happy one this time. So, I also found a couple other pictures while digging around in the files for the scrapbook and these I haven't seen since the week Poops was born. It brought back so many memories and was such a lovely surprise to see them after all this time. The one below is of Poops under the lamps that helped him with his jaundice. He had to wear this awful little purple cap and goggles that he couldn't see through and he hated so much when the nurses put it on him. While he was under the lamps, we literally only got to hold him for about 15 minutes every few hours, just to feed him, because he had to go back under the lamps. And we would flee the NICU quickly afterward because I couldn't bear the sound of his cries when the nurses put the headgear back on. The one below that is just us having a moment.

My Heroes

I should be napping right now because I'm exhausted and my eyes are closing involuntarily, and the little tantrum-thrower is sleeping soundly. But I'm blogging. Because I cannot contain my excitement for the season of Heroes starting again tonight and I have one main request to you, Heroes producers, directors, staff and actors: Please do not kill Peter Petrelli!!! He's my favorite character and last season we left him mid-scene with the bad guy, Sylar, beginning to saw his skull open in order to kill him and take his superpowers. Yes, it's gross, and if it's as gross tonight, I will have to watch some puppies and kittens frolicking across the tv screen afterward so I can sleep nightmare-less. My theory is that Peter will use one of his superpowers to become invisible and disappear, thus confusing Sylar, and saving the Indian professor who's pinned to the ceiling with an arrow, then using another superpower to take the professor and FLY FLY! If you're not a Heroes watcher, does this not intrigue you?????? Literally the most brilliant, genious show I have ever seen in my life. I am borderline obsessed.

So I will try and squeeze off a nap until I hear Poops stirring in the monitor. He has actually been a lot less tantrummy since the weekend and for that, I am quite thankful. Maybe he's getting over his bottle breakup. Maybe that was it, and he's done with tantrums now! Hey, everyone needs a fantasy.

Heroes. Tonight. NBC. 9PM!

My Kids Are Going to Rule Me and I'm Scared.

Sometimes I like to picture what it would be like if, in the real world, adults screamed their heads off when they were hungry, rubbed their red eyes and endlessly, erratically wailed when they were tired, or when they became frustrated, just tore up papers and broke things in complete, irrational anger. Or whined, "Noooooo, I want thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat one!" Or grunted over and over again wanting whatever someone else has. In business meetings. Or in the middle of the grocery store. Or in a restaurant. I think to myself sometimes, what if I just lost it right here (tearing at my hair like Kramer) because I am so hungry? Or I so desperately needed a nap and in the middle of a conversation just started rubbing my eyes and whining for no reason. In true, child fashion.

I introduce to you, the tantrum. I do not know from whence it has come, or why, but it has arrived and I'm none too happy. Mostly because when it happens, I have to figure out why it is happening. Is it because we gave up the bottle completely this week and he has lost his comfort and security in a sense? Is it because he's hungry and/or tired? Or is it because at age one, he is beginning to assert his independence and is trying to establish himself as a person? He is only one. But I swear, he is already a different boy. I try one tactic: completely ignoring him mid-tantrum. This makes him louder, more pissed off, and I ignore some more until it goes away and another one breaks out two seconds later. Or my second-string tactic, distracting him, giving him another toy, which he tries to rip up in frustration and anger. Or finally the third tactic. Throwing my hands up and giving up, surrendering and letting husband take over, or if he's not here, the good old Aquarium Swing. I feel like I am flailing out of control and he is going to own me and I see it coming and I am in a complete panic. He is only one and he is about to own me. He is about to plant his flag and stand on top of me like he has just conquered mom and he is only one.

Argh! I don't want to view this as battle. I want to view this as going into another stage, a journey, with all our supplies on our backs, going side by side, in a partnership, yet, with a clear, level-headed leader. This is my wishlist. But it's hard to be level-headed and patient when there is a clear melt-down standing there before your eyes and you just want to say, "Get ahold of yourself, man! We're going to make it through this!" But the meltdown continues, like we're both about at the end of our tether, chapped and frostbitten in the freezing cold of Mount Everest and the only option left is one of us eating the other one.

Maybe this is just a quick preview phase, gearing me up for a serious, even more scary phase two. Or maybe he is just lashing out because of his loss of the bottle, which makes me want to regress and take that lovely bottle out for his comfort, but alas, I will trudge on. This too, shall pass. I will continue my aforementioned tactics, even if I continue to feel like I am losing my grip. I will dig my heels in, for I shall not be conquered by a one-year-old. And I shall not regress, myself, to childish, tantrum throwing in response to a one-year-old's tantrum throwing. I shall maintain cool control and patience in the face of a meltdown. But seriously, all kidding aside. I WANT MY MOMMY!