The Worry Monster

As I was lying in bed this morning, desperately waiting for my little owlet to fall blissfully back to sleep, listening to the sniffs and snuffles of his stuffy nose, I started thinking about how much as mothers, and parents, we worry about our little ones. It made me wonder if other mammals worry about their young as much as we do. Sure they teach their young to avoid predators, or cars, or whatever, but at some point, their little ones, like ours, go off on their own. Do they worry about them? Do they listen to them sleep? Both relieved and frustrated when they start to fuss? For some of us, the worry begins before they are even conceived, as we worry about whether we even CAN get pregnant, and once we are pregnant, we worry that it won't last, and once we hit the 13 week mark (and can breathe a little easier, sort of), there's even more to worry about. Complications. Defects. Life Threatening Illness. That "S" word that keeps me awake at night, listening to him breathe.

I can't even imagine how much more I will continue to worry as my little Owlexander gets older, and is able to get into things, goes off to school, starts high school, goes off to College (shudder). My friend has a saying "love deeply, hold loosely." During times like this, a statement like that is something I should remember, as difficult as it is to "hold loosely." I think we worry so much because we love so much. I hope that when the time comes, that Alex will know that he's safe and loved as he goes off to explore the world, and that I'll be here, worrying away.

pain and joy

Alexander James has arrived, after much anticipation, and a very long and hard labor. 24 hours of long, hard labor to be exact. After 2 hours of pushing, it was determined that that monster head of his was stuck, so they had to do a c-section. I have never had surgery before, ever, other than some stitches when I was like, 5, but that doesn't count, so needless to say I was pretty freaked out when the doctor said I would need one. I'm glad that in a way I had planned for this in my mind, since my idea of a "perfect birth" was slowly starting to unravel at the word "induction." Seems my little man was quite cozy in his little home in my tummy and didn't want to come out, and the longer he stayed in there, the more the frustration, anticipation and anxiety I felt. The doctors and I talked about induction, they went back and forth on when to do it, leaving me hanging and more frustrated and anxious, they didn't want to induce too soon and have it end up in a c-section (oh the irony). So, the birth plan, that I had worked so hard on went out the window, as did my idea of a natural labor, since I knew that there was no way with the pitocin that I would be able to do my relaxation techniques that Phil and I had practiced and planned for, especially since I was strapped to the bed with an IV. Poor Phil, the man probably saw more in those 24 hours than he ever thought he'd see, but he is an amazing man and was incredibly supportive the entire time (and continues to be now that we're home.) But of course, it was all worth it. The fact that I couldn't get out of bed for a solid 48 hours, that I couldn't eat anything for 36 hours, and when I did it was lemon jello, the fact that my feet were swollen like marshmallows for days was all worth it when I saw that precious face. I shook for an hour after the surgery, feeling like I would never stop shaking, but when they brought my little one over to me, my body was calmer, and I couldn't believe that he was here, finally here, and finally in my arms.

And now that we're home, and slowly settling in to our routine (he sleeps all day, eats and poops, and then does it some more) I love this little man more and more and more. Every day he surprises me with something new, whether its a smile in his sleep or his grasping my hands when he's nursing or his contented little "ahhh's" when he's finished eating, I am so blessed that this little man is now in our lives, all of the little joys that he brings me numerous times a day is worth all the pain that I endured during labor. Although, if he wants to make it up to me, he could start sleeping a little more in between his nightly feedings.

sitting with not knowing

Not knowing is one of my least favorite things in the whole world. Ok, I'm sure there's plenty of other things out there that I hate more, but right now, 38 weeks and 5 days pregnant, with no sign of when baby Alexander will make debut into the world, the thing I hate most is not knowing. I've never really been ok with sitting with not knowing, just ask my supervisor, or my husband, but I especially hate it when it comes to this being I'm carrying around in my belly.

I've struggled with a lot of not knowing since the beginning of this pregnancy, before it, really, when we were trying to conceive for months. (and months and months!) I never knew when (or if) it was going to happen, and then when it did (finally!) was the sitting with not knowing of what we were having! All of that has seemed so minimal compared to this not knowing. Of course, I say that now, at the time not knowing if we were even able to get pregnant was a pretty huge thing. But now it's become this, like, thing. Like, everyone tells you that you should have everything ready to go by 37 weeks, "just in case." Well 37 weeks has come and gone, and everything's ready, except for Alex, it seems. Plus there's this whole thing of continuing to make sure the house is clean, and the fridge and freezer stocked "just in case." But WHEN are we supposed to do this? I had a major cleaning fest last weekend, and thought FOR SURE that Alexander would be making his world debut a few days after that, but nope. Nothing. Not a peep. It's hard to know when to get all of these things done so that you're "fully prepared," when no one in the world can predict when this little guy will make his entrance. Well, they could, if I was one of the millions (thousands?) of women who decides to schedule a c-section, even when it's not needed. (Of course if a c-section is needed, then I'm all for those women who have to schedule it, but don't get me started on the other ones.) It's also hard to know what all these things I keep feeling actually ARE. Is that weird pang a sign? Nope, it didn't stay long enough to start timing. Grrr. What about that weird cramp like feeling and that pain in my lower back? Nope, it went away and hasn't come back. Great. What exactly am I supposed to be feeling? Well, since it's different for every woman, it may feel like x or it may feel like y or because I'm me, it may feel like g.

I keep telling myself "he'll come when he comes, when he's ready," and as true as I know that is, he's getting rather heavy and uncomfortable to carry around inside my ever expanding belly. And it doesn't help when people I see everyday comment that I still haven't had him yet. Why, again, do people feel that they can say whatever they want to a pregnant lady? OF COURSE he hasn't come yet. OF COURSE I'm hot and uncomfortable and just want him out here already! Either say something sympathetic or helpful, (which, by the way, does not include a. your terrible labor stories or b. the fact that YOU delivered close to 2 weeks late (and then had a terrible labor), or the flip side of that, that you had your baby 2 weeks early or c. that most women don't deliver on their due dates and in fact that most white women with a private physician tend to deliver at 41weeks1day. ) or don't say anything at all. Please. Spare me your inane thoughts about my pregnancy.

the snowball in the fog

Pregnancy is really a wonderful, amazing thing. Sometimes I love nothing more than lying down and feeling little Alexander moving around inside my belly. Or watching my stomach suddenly turn into a waterbed as Alexander moves around, stretching and doing his daily aerobics. Sometimes, however, pregnancy is not so fun. Like the other day when I had a meltdown about how the house would never be clean enough to bring a baby into. I had this thought that I might as well be bringing my child home into a mud-hut surrounded by cows, chickens and goats with how disgustingly filthy I felt our house was, and how infested with spiders and other disgusting creatures it appeared at the time to be. I call this the snowball effect, and I think it's a pretty common side effect of pregnancy. See, earlier in the day I had been thinking about how much I still needed to get done, and how quickly our little owlette's due date was approaching. (as of now we have 6 weeks left, which means 3 weeks to get everything ready, since they say you should be "ready to go" by 37 weeks.) Inside I started to panic. That's 3 Saturdays to get everything done that needs to be done. And what, exactly needs to be done? Well, there's the fog. I have no idea what needs to be done, because as soon as I think of something, it gets lost in the fog of the other side effect of pregnancy: Pregnancy Brain. I'll tell myself to write down all the things I think of that need to be done as soon as they come to me, except they usually seem to break through the fog at the most inopportune time, such as when I am walking through Target, wondering what on earth I am doing there and just what I went there to buy, inevitably leaving with way more than I intended, and none of it being what I needed. (That's not so much pregnancy brain as the wonder of Target, but I like to blame a large portion of it on the foggy brain syndrome.)

Anyway, as I'm down on my hands and knees sweeping out the cabinet where we keep the trash and the dog food, it all just hits me, one tiny little thing snowballs into a bigger thing until I feel so completely overwhelmed that the mere thought of even starting a list of the things that need to be done seems far to daunting and all I want to do is curl up on the couch with a large bowl of ice cream. I'd like to say that that day was the last of the snowball effect, but with a mere 3 weeks left to get everything ready, and the fact that most days I start something and have no energy to finish it, I don't think the snowball is gone forever. And neither, sadly, is the foggy brain.

I did, however, manage to make that list of things to-do. I'm sure I've forgotten something on it though, and will remember what it is just long enough to forget to write it down.

The excitment (and the belly!) keeps growing

I have officially entered my third trimester. Well, I officially entered it a few weeks ago, but who's counting? We have finished our first of many classes on what to do with this little bundle of joy, this more recent class was on how to get the little being inside me OUT into this world, the next several will be on what to do with him once we get him home.
During several of our classes, as our teacher explained the wonders of the labor process (I'll spare you the details), she always ended saying "and then you will no longer be pregnant." I can't quite explain why, but that sentence always made me feel a little bit sad. I know, since it's been told to me many, many times, that soon I'll just want this kid OUT OF ME ALREADY, but right now, I truly enjoy being pregnant. Ok, I don't enjoy the sleepless nights or the aches and pains in my hips or the fact that it's getting harder and harder to see my feet or bend over, but really, I do enjoy being pregnant! I have wanted this for so long, and to think that in just a few short months it will all be over, makes me a little bit sad. Of course, what will come out of this pregnancy will make me incredibly happy, but still. There's a feeling of sadness there nonetheless. So, other than the things listed above, here is what I am looking forward to about no longer being pregnant (not including the bundle of joy that is soon to arrive.)

1. complete strangers no longer commenting on my pregnancy, and whether I am too small or too big, or that I have to suffer through the heat of the summer, or that I'm not carrying right to be having a boy, etc., etc. I know this will be replaced instead with them commenting on my parenting, or on how my son looks like a girl, or whatever idiotic thing strangers feel like they can say to new mothers. ***
2. MARGARITAS. I can't even begin to tell you how much I am looking forward to the salted rim of a nice tall margarita.
3. Coffee, assuming the smell no longer makes me feel incredibly nauseous. I truly hope that goes away.
4. Being able to see my feet again, although I am planning on using this as the perfect excuse to get myself a nice mani/pedi for my birthday this year.
5. Not having to pee every ten seconds.
6. Being able to eat what I want again, assuming that he's not allergic to whatever it is I feel like eating. Although knowing my eating habits, it will be largely the same that I eat now, just not as large of portions.

***seriously, what is WITH that? Why do complete strangers feel that they can say anything they want to a pregnant woman? It's like suddenly when a woman gets pregnant, all bets are off, we can comment on the way she looks with not a second thought? Really? I mean, I know that I look like I'm ready to burst any minute (or that I'm too small to be 7 months) but seriously. Did you know that pregnancy is technically a disability? It is. Would you walk up to a complete stranger with a disability and start commenting on it? "Wow dude, you're in a wheelchair. In the summer. That must stink."

Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, I am growing more and more excited everyday to welcome this little being into the world. We're slowly getting the nursery together, and it's making it feel real in a different way than all those kicks and wiggles from inside my belly have. Sometimes I just walk into the nursery and look around, imagining all the joy and love that will soon be filling the room, and the house, and our lives.

Tossing and turning...

...and kicking and punching and elbowing! Baby boy Armstrong is one active little fellow. I can't say that I mind it much (yet.) Often times I find it quite comforting to know that the little one is active and moving around in there. He seems to enjoy my cravings as much as I do too, which is fun. He loves Froot Loops, my newest craving, and literally gets a kick out of my morning pop-tarts. (I promise, parents, that I am eating healthy things too, but he likes the sweet stuff!) Even as I type this, he's kicking away, high on my right side.

While his little kicks and punches are soothing now, I know that in the very near future they will probably become less soothing and more painful, but I also know that it's all a part of the joys of motherhood. They're also not quite so fun when I am tossing and turing in the middle of the night trying desperately to get some much needed rest, but luckily that also doesn't happen too much. (Yet.)

Funny little story, I was in a session with a rather tough kiddo last week and the kid began yelling quite intensely at me. Of course, my heart rate instantly went up (as did my stress level) and little baby boy started moving all over the place, kicking me! It was hard not to smile feeling the little being in my belly moving around and it really brought me back to the moment, remembering to take deep breaths and take a step back for a moment. I was able to deal with the kiddo who was yelling at me (somewhat) calmly all thanks to this little being in my belly.

Raising an owlet?

Hello everyone! Being so far away from much of my friends and family, I have decided to start a blog about all of our experiences with being first time parents and all the wonderful joys that come with pregnancy, like the fact that my belly-button is slowly disappearing, and that I get to experience heartburn on an almost nightly basis, regardless of what I eat.

So, why did we name this blog a "guide to raising an owlet?" Honestly, I have no idea. It was cute, but not too "cutesy-wootsy." I wanted to name it "Baby Steps" as I feel that Phil and I will be taking baby steps into the world of parenthood in the very near future, although the more I think about it, we will most likely be diving in, head first, covered in baby spit, but Phil said no. And since I, as you may or may not know, have a thing for owls, it just seemed to fit. There is another first time mommy out there named Molly, who is also new at this whole parenting thing, and she has four little owlets to raise, so, if she can do it. so can I. By the way, if you haven't witnessed the unbelievable cuteness that is owlets, I suggest you go, right now to

http://www.sportsmansparadiseonline.com/Live_Owl_Nest_Box_Cam.html. Although our little one won't be covered in fluffy down, I am sure he will be just as adorable, in a different way.