fall

Fall is my favorite season. I love the smell. I love picking apples and pumpkins. I love having it be warm enough to still go outside but cool enough you can cuddle under a blanket. I love wearing hoodies (when I'm not hugely pregnant and have hoodies that fit). I love the colors of the trees.

I've been waiting to take The Bear to a local arboretum to take some fall pictures, but the weather has not been cooperating. We did manage to take a few on Saturday when we went to pick pumpkins.

I think we have a little fall lover on our hands. I can't wait until next year when Hubby will actually be home with us in the fall to enjoy it with us.

God as a parent

Preface: I was raised in a Christian home. I attend church on an (almost) weekly basis. The Bear goes to Sunday School. Regardless of your view of God, I think this can be applied to any higher being you personally trust in.

I don't have the best relationship with my biological father. He might be a major butt head who has made some poor choices in his life. (I think that might be the nicest way to say that.) I never really liked the idea of God being our Father. My father was a bit like the Old Testament God - full of wrath and not someone I could easily approach with worries or doubts.

I read The Shack earlier this year, and I found it quite interesting. The character had issues with his father and so God appeared in a motherly form. It was what he needed then.

As I venture through this journey of parenthood, I have been taught many lessons. One of the greatest ones is realizing how God must sometimes feel with me.

"How many times do I have to tell you no?"
"It's okay. You'll be fine in a few minutes."
"Trust me. Do not do that."
"Come here. Sit with me and tell me how you feel."
"If you don't stop, you're going to get hurt."
"I know you didn't mean it. It's okay. I love you."
"I'm sorry I had to yell at you. It was really for a good reason."

I can only imagine the times in my life that God has sat there shaking his head wanting so badly to slap my hand but knowing the only way I'll learn is by doing it myself. Knowing that when I truly feel guilty for what I've done, he feels just as bad about it as I do.

What would God be telling you?

someone needs to work on their math skills

At my last OB appointment, the doctor had some concern because I was measuring small. If you haven't been pregnant, they take a tape measure and actually measure your stomach to see how big you are. A little old fashioned and weird, but it seems to work.

This is how they found The Bear had some issues when I was pregnant with him. This last appointment, I had officially fallen off the "normal" scale which meant I was more than 2 weeks away from my due date. People (including babies) all grow at different rates so they consider anything in a 2 week window to be okay. I was 32 weeks and measuring at 29 weeks.

I was scheduled for an ultrasound this morning to check Baby's size and the amniotic fluid "just to be sure." First of all, as a mommy this is enough to cause a panic attack. Add in the fact that we've had an IUGR kiddo and Hubby will still be gone when they would normally induce an IUGR baby and I was a ball of nerves.

The doctor still hasn't called me with the official results, but the ultrasound tech did share what she found. Baby is estimated to be a whopping 4 pounds, 15 ounces. No joke. The Bear was 5 pounds, 11 ounces when he was born. Baby is 32 weeks! That means there is probably another 8 weeks of growth to happen.

Baby's weight puts him where an average babe is at 35 weeks.

Just to recap:
Tummy measuring 29 weeks
I am 32 weeks
Baby measuring 35 weeks

How is that possible? No wonder I'm so uncomfortable. That's a lot of baby to cram in such a small place.

baby needs a name

Baby has a real name. I am obsessed with names. I needed to give this child a name since we knew he was coming.

Hubby tolerates me and knows when to give in. He finally agrees to a name while we were in Disney World at the end of August. We bought The Bear Mickey Mouse ears with his name on them. In my effort to be fair, I wanted to get a pair for baby.

He committed. Baby has a name. A name I LOVE. The deal was that if we found out the gender we wouldn't share the name until Baby was here. Our friends and family know Baby is a boy, but they have no idea what his name will be.

There are advantages to this. We told everyone The Bear's name and I got tons of "eh" and "I don't like it" responses. Now, everyone agrees the name totally fits him. I'm sure I would be getting the same kind of reaction to people this time so it is nice to save me from dealing with those people. No one says anything negative to you after the kid is legally named.

I need a blog name for Baby. Baby has worked so far, but it will only last so long.

battle of wills

The Bear has never been one to easily give in. I still remember the doctor telling me when he was born that he didn't want to baby-sit him when he was 3. No joke. Nothing about "it's a boy" or "congratulations". I was told my kid had spunk.

This past week, we've been transitioning him from his crib to his big boy bed. The crib is a convertible one which means that it goes from crib to toddler bed to full size headboard.

The Bear had been trying to climb out of his crib. He had gotten one foot on top of the crib and it was only a matter of days before he was going to end up falling on the floor. I wasn't in any rush to switch him before Baby came, but things rarely happen on my timeline in this family.

He LOVES being in his "new" bed.


The problem is he can get out of it. All by himself. Whenever he wants. He's normally okay once he goes to sleep. The battle is getting him to lay in it long enough to fall asleep. He knows he's supposed to lay in it. He'll stay put as long as I'm in the room and goes scurrying back in as soon as I walk in the room.

It took almost an hour tonight to get him to stay in. Most of that hour the furthest I could get in leaving was shutting the door before he would be yelling and out of bed.

I'm not sure how long it's going to take to get him used to this idea. Supernanny gets it all done in less than an hour. I don't yell or even say anything. I just open the door and point to his bed.

Not our last battle of wills, I'm sure. Here's to opening I have more persistence than a 22 month old.

family rules

I recently found a fantastic blog post on the pleated poppy. It was linked by someone, but I can't remember who. You MUST go over here to check it out. There are many other people out there copying this idea and posting their own family rules. Just check out the comments section.

I want to make this during this underway. I know The Bear is little (he'll be 2) and Baby isn't even here yet, but I'm going to do it anyways. I'm pregnant; I'm allowed to have moments like this.

Honestly though, I like the idea of having family rules. Rules that apply to all of us (including Hubby and me). Rules that just always have been there hence the making it when he's little thing.

What rules can you think of that would apply to your family? I love most of the ones other people have used, but I need rules that grow with us. She used 16 rules which is a good number to aim for. I love the "never leave angry" one. Something my parents stressed, and I want to pass on is to "Celebrate every day".

Any suggestions?

the lies we tell

We just said good bye to Hubby. Again.

It's not deployment (6 months), but it is a fairly long underway.

We met Hubby on the pier for lunch. I'm a sucker for pain. We always say good bye in the morning when we drop him off and then go through it all again at lunch time. Usually, I head down to the river to wave to them as they go out to sea.

When The Bear and I were walking back to our car after watching him go down the hatch, I lied to my son.

He was screaming and yelling "Bye bye, DaDa" over and over again. It's just what he does. I on the other hand prefer to quietly lick my wounds alone.

I was trying to shush him a bit. I told him that "Daddy will be home soon." I lied. It's going to seem like forever to me so I know it's going to seem like forever to a 21 month old. I know I was just trying to make him feel better, but I don't want to blatantly lie to my child.

Yes, this is not a deployment. Yes, we've gone longer with Daddy gone. But, it's almost 10% of his life so far.

Of The Bear's first 2 years of life, Hubby will have been gone for 49% of it.

I keep telling myself The Bear is too little to remember all this and it really won't have a negative impact on him emotionally or developmentally.

Maybe that's just the sort of lie I tell myself.

maternal

We had maternity pictures taken a week ago. I totally thought they were gross when I was pregnant with The Bear. This time, I'm a bit more sentimental about it all. I think it's because we've always planned* to have 2 kids, and this is "the last time" I'm doing all this.

I found a fantastic photographer through some friends. If anyone is in the Connecticut/Rhode Island area and in need of a fantastic photographer who is patient, wonderful and cheap, may I suggest Sara's Photography.

One of our last family shots as a family of 3

The classic heart shape on the tummy - with my hand and Hubby's

A soon to be family of 4

Not too much longer until we meet the little guy!

*I say planned, but we all know how plans work out for us. Hubby mentioned the other day that since Baby is a boy, if I wanted to try for a girl in a few years we could discuss it.

sweetest boy

Life has been pretty hectic around here. We're trying to get as much done for Baby and prepare for the holidays, too. I know I'm not going to feel like braving the stores when I'm either 39 weeks pregnant or when I have 2 little ones in the snow.

Sometimes, it shocks me how grown up The Bear is. He's had a rough patch adjusting to Hubby being home. He loves hanging out with him, but everytime Hubby leaves - either for work, a shower or The Bear has to go to bed - we had some full out temper tantrums. He doesn't get when he's leaving for a few minutes, a day or a month.

I've started a habit of giving his crib friends (the 3 stuffies that hang out in his crib) kisses good night.

Tonight, he gave good night kisses and hugs to all 3 of them and laid them down. George earned a prime spot sharing his pillow while the other two were put down by his feet. He tucked George in under the blanket. Then he sat down and rubbed the back of his head like I do before bedtime. After a few minutes, he looked at me. He put his finger to his lips and told me to "SHHHH".

Sometimes I just want to squeeze him and keep him little forever.

TLC and Babies

TLC is my companion when Hubby is gone or at work. After The Bear goes to sleep and the house is in relative order, I turn it on. Hubby doesn't ever watch it when he's home which is fine. But, I love it.

Right now, Multitude of Multiples is on. It's a new one for me. It's following families with large order multiples; think Jon & Kate Plus 8 or Table for 12.

A mom carrying quadruplets just found out one of her babies has IUGR. That's what The Bear was diagnosed with. Hers is a very severe case. She's only 28 weeks pregnant which is 12 weeks before the baby is due and 9 before the baby would be considered full term. The doctors told her that the best way to ensure the baby's survival is giving birth immediately.

However, every day she can keep the other babies does major things for their development and growth. When I was pregnant, the doctors told me that every day a baby remains inside the mom is the equivalent as 3 days in the NICU. So keeping the babes in a week longer shaves 21 days off of a NICU stay.

What would you do? Sheer numbers vote 3 to 1 to keep the babies in as long as possible. But, as a mom that just hurts my heart. Can you knowingly let one of your children die when there is only a risk of health issues to the other ones?

Is there a typical answer? Is there a right answer?


EDIT: She chose to wait 2 more weeks until she was 30 weeks. The little girl was stillborn.

In and Out

Hubby is very frustrated with work.

How did a 3 day weekend turn into a 22 hour weekend?

Breathe in. Breathe out.
Repeat.

My Labor Day

I wrote this just after The Bear was born. I am so very glad I did. While I'll always remember parts of it, I'm glad it's written down to really remember. It might be overly gross if you have not given birth.

But, this was my labor day.

We went into the hospital Thursday night, December 6th, at 6 pm to be induced. I was 37 weeks, 1 day. There were problems with the umbilical cord. They said he would be safer being born at 37 weeks than risking being inside me longer and being stillborn.

The put in the first pill around 8 pm. I was all hooked up to a million machines and they said I was having contractions that were about 2 minutes apart. (Made me feel stupid since I just thought my back was hurting) I had another pill inserted at 1 am and a third at 5:30 am. All this time, I was 1 cm dialated.

They came in to check me at 9 am and I was at 2 cm. So excited for change.

At 10 am, things got scary. I was having very strong contractions and The Bear's heart rate kept dropping. I wanted an epidural (the doctors said I was in the hardest labor it would be, but I was done). In order to have the epidural, they wanted to break my water to insert a monitor on The Bear's head to measure his heart rate (they can't do it for the 10 minutes or so it takes to get the epi set up). They did that and started to insert the epidural. They did it wrong - and had to come back later to fix it (my left side was still getting all the feeling). During all this, The Bear's heart rate was going crazy. They started some sort of fluid flow through the uterus since them breaking the water eliminated the cushion The Bear had had from the contractions. I was put on oxygen and given a shot to stop the contractions since they were now coming non-stop without any break between them. Hubby lost it watching me hooked up to so many machines and the room full of doctors (there were 7 doctors and 3 nurses in there at that time).

The shot didn't stop the contractions or really slow them down. It just made them more regular with breaks in between. After all this, I was at 4 cms by 11 am.

At 2 pm, I had this very strong urge to go to the washroom - like poop. The doctor came in and I was at 10 cm. I started pushing at about 2:20 pm (Hubby had decided to go get lunch at 1:50. He has great timing like that.)

The Bear was born at 2:49 pm. 5 pounds, 11 ounces. 19 inches long.

They checked him out and we were able to see him at 3:15ish for 20 minutes. Then, they took him away to the nursery since he was little and not breathing consistently. He finally got to back to us around 8 that night.

My favorite parts of it all -
The doctor saying he would never want to baby-sit. He said The Bear was too feisty for him.
We were put into room 6 - Dec 6th at 6 pm in room 6.
We had CMT on the TV during labor. The Bear was born during "It's a great day to be alive" played.

Holding my baby for the first time

Boys, Mickey and Baseball

Hubby has had a crazy schedule and we've been trying to cram in as much possible before he ships back out. The schedule now has him leaving soon and getting back JUST before Baby is due to appear. But, you know it is the Navy. So the schedule changes on at least 3 times a week.

We did find out Baby is a boy. The ultrasound tech actually said "Well, it's pretty obvious" and had his private parts up on the screen. No joke. Hubby and I both could tell. I'm loving the idea of having a house full of boys. We're working out the kinks of bedding and room decoration. By kinks I mean my overly high demands and an exhausted Hubby trying his best. I finally decided to make the boys' duvet covers, pillow cases and curtains. More details will be coming about that grand endeavor. Baby does have a real name now. Hubby wants to wait until Baby arrives to make the big announcement. The middle name is known; it's Hubby's grandfather's name who passed away in January as well as my dad's name. I love middle names that are in honor of someone. The first name is unique (but meets my crazy criteria). Now I just need to come up with a blog name for Baby.

We took a 4 day trip to Disney World. It was insanely exhausting, but we all had fun. The Bear did really well with the early mornings, lack of naps and late nights. He was the one jumping on the bed at 10 pm while Hubby and I were hoping for sleep.

I was surprised how many of the rides The Bear could go on. He loved the characters. He was surprisingly brave walking up to the characters himself and dolling out hugs. Chip & Dale were his favorites.


Hubby and I both had birthdays. Hubby had duty on mine. So even though it was a Sunday, we didn't get to celebrate together. Hubby's was Saturday. He had Friday night duty and the potential of working through his big day, too. Luckily, he got home just in time for us to go to the Cubs v Mets game which was his birthday surprise.

The Bear really does love baseball. It's amazing how into it he gets. He's learning so much all the time, too. He learned that when they pay the Da Da DaDa Daaa music he's supposed to say "Charge!"


I was able to take one of my all time favorite pictures of The Bear there.

What's too many?

I'm obsessed with TLC and thus am relatively well versed in the Duggar family. In case you haven't heard, Michelle is pregnant with their 19th child. No joke. The oldest is 21. 19 kids in 21 years is impressive. And, insanely scary. I guess now she has a slew of built in baby-sitters though.

I wonder at what point it was like well what's one more? I'm scared transitioning from 1 to 2. Is 2 to 3 bad? 3 to 4? I'm not going to get the far.

What is too many kids? Is there a too many? They're financially sound; much better than most people with no kids or even one child. She's not old - only 36. The kids seem well behaved and relatively well adjusted. (The whole not kissing until your wedding day seems that at least Josh has some social differences though.)

For some people, I could almost argue that one child is too many. Is there a point in which people should step in and say no more?

Really it's me

So we've running around crazy style. Between cramming as much in as possible while Hubby is in between underways and getting ready for Baby, I feel like the month has flown by.

The Navy decided they needed new uniforms. Why? To look more cohesive with the rest of the armed forces. That's what they say at least. I think they just needed a reason to help boost the economy. From my 2 seconds googling, I think there are about 400,000 personnel currently in the Navy. Why not have them all shell out gobs of money for new outfits. And, in case you didn't click on the link - the uniforms are less than attractive. You aren't allowed to tailor them so they just hang like bags.

Hubby needed me to call the 800 number to order some new undershirts for these snazzy uniforms. Only in the Navy does getting a new uniform also entail new boots, new undershirts, new socks and I wouldn't be shocked if he told me to order the official underwear for him. The uniform shop on base is small and lacking since everyone is scrambling to get everything all at once.

On base, they will sometimes ask you for your military ID. Uniforms are only allowed to be purchased by authorized personnel after all.

In order to prove I was in deed ordering for Hubby (what civilian isn't secretly trying to order these official Navy shirts that look exactly like blue t-shirts?), I needed to provide them with some information. Last time I called, they asked for his social security number and name.

This time I was asked for his: full name, rank, date of birth, social security number, full address with zip code, email and how long we've lived here. Seriously. For 5 t shirts. Is there that big of an underground ring of improperly buying and wearing solid blue shirts?

Someday life will be easy. Someday.