The baby needs a place to sleep!

If you've ever been pregnant before or even known someone who was expecting, you may have heard the term "nesting" being thrown around during their third trimester. Nesting is a term often used to describe a pregnant person's instinct or urge to prepare their home for their newborn. This may translate into excessive cleaning, stocking up of infant clothing, or even home remodeling as the expectant mother aims to provide the ideal living environment for their soon-to-come tiny bundle of joy.

For me the nesting instinct arrived with the ringing in of the new year. On that January 1st morning, I woke with a single thought that struck panic throughout my mind: I'm having a baby this year! Before the new year I had postponed such ideas, thinking, of course I have plenty of time. But with the the new year came the realization that the baby was coming and coming soon! Were we ready? Absolutely not!

The next few weeks did little to calm my fears. The question on every one's lips was the same: have you finished the nursery yet? My reply was always the same as well, " Oh no, but we have lots of time for that". Although seemingly calm, my palms would immediately start to sweat as a feeling of dread invaded my mind from every angle. Done with the nursery?? We hadn't even started!

Many people (ahem men) have trivialized nesting as a fantastical idea created by women to explain hysterical behavior that may or may not occur around the last couple months of a woman's pregnancy. Biology, however, tells a different story, that nesting is indeed real, and in fact, many animals go through such a phase. For instance, rodents often will show their nesting instincts by seeking the lowest sheltered spot available right before delivery. Similarly, dogs will seek to create their nests with blankets and stuffed animals before delivering their pups, and birds will stay as close to the nest as possible right before laying their eggs (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nesting_instinct). Although humans may nest differently than the animals listed above, behaviorally they exhibit the same characteristics of the nesting motif.

Similarly, the urge to nest for me led to the profound urge to prepare the nursery where my little one would eventually sleep. "After all," I told my husband, "If I went into labor tomorrow, where would the baby sleep??!!" Although my husband gently reminded me that if this were to occur, the baby would most likely sleep in the hospital for a period of time due to him only being a mere 32 weeks, my 'placental' brain would hear none of it. I needed to prepare the nursery and no amount of logical talk would change this.

Step one: paint the room. Many of you may be thinking that it's crazy for a 32-week pregnant woman to be painting anything. I will reply by saying that for one, my husband was a tremendous help and did the majority of said painting, and for two, crazy is a relative term. Thus our nursery is now a beautiful sky blue. This weekend we will also be adding key pieces of furniture such as a crib and changing table. The baby will finally have a place to sleep!

But, alas, as my fears of a crib-less baby are calmed over the coming weeks, I have no doubt that new nesting urges will take over. As animalistic as it may seem, nesting is just a normal part of pregnancy. As pregnant women we can neither control these urges nor be talked out of of the craziness that accompanies them. And I'm ok with that.

Pitty party of 1

I had a mini-meltdown at the drugstore a couple of days ago. After waking up feeling utterly horrible on Saturday morning, I set out to find at least one decongestant that I, at 31 weeks pregnant, was aloud to take. The information was confusing at best. Some sites said not to take anything; other sites listed certain medications that have not "been proven" to cause any side effects for pregnant women. I finally found a list from a trusted site that said I could indeed take Tylenol Cold medication.


So off to the pharmacy the fam and I went, but after looking through the extensive medications available on the cold/flu aisle, I realized that this particular pharmacy didn't have any Tylenol products. I dragged myself up to the pharmacy desk and told the pharmacist my predicament. He stared at my pregnant belly and then went to the back to "consult" another pharmacist. When he returned he said "I really wouldn't recommend anything but Tylenol and fluids." I replied to him that I had read that Tylenol Cold was an ok medication to take while pregnant, and if he would just direct me to an alternative medication since they didn't seem to carry that one, I would be on my way. He looked at me and again replied, "I can't really recommend anything for you." Really?? Nothing?? I was getting a little teary eyed at this point. I hadn't the energy to argue with him so I simply bought a bottle of generic Tylenol and got back in the car.


Once in the car, the tears started flowing. My husband, used to these hysterics at this point, just rubbed my shoulder. "I just want to feel better," I sobbed. What I really wanted to say was, "I just want this baby out of me!"


I don't feel like I'm normally a complainer, but lately that seems all I'm able to do. Between the lack of sleep, the swollen ankles after a 10 hr work day, the painful braxton hicks contractions, the utter exhaustion, and now not being able to relieve my cold symptoms, I am sooo over this pregnancy. I told Shad this the other day and he reminded me that I still had two looonng more months to go. Well thanks hun, I had forgotten.


I should be relishing every minute of this pregnancy, this being the last time I will ever experience this. But instead I'm counting down the days when I can reclaim my body. Don't get me wrong, I want a health, full term baby. If that means this kiddo needs to stay incubating for 40+ weeks, so be it. But every night I pray the same prayer, "God, if this kid is done cookin then please for God sake, get him out of me." That may be wrong of me, but hey that's pretty much how I'm feeling these days.

It's the most wonderful time of year!

Well the holidays are almost over, and although I'm going to miss all the beautiful Christmas decorations that have been present in my home for the past month in a half, I will also be glad to be getting my life back to normal over the next month. I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but the holidays are STRESSFUL. Between the decorating, the baking, the present buying, and the party go-ing, the holidays seem to bring on a certain amount of pressure that can make even the most easy-going person loose it.

For our family, one of the most stressful parts about Christmas tends to be money, or specifically the growing amount of money we feel we need to spend each Christmas on the kiddos. I blame Santa. After all, that old man sure does perpetuate the idea that if a child is really, really good, anything the eye desires could be awaiting for them on Christmas morning. And what choice do parents have, really? If your little one asks Saint Nick for a present that may be a wee bit out of budget, do you break their hearts or break your bank??

This year, we were determined NOT to break the bank during the holidays. Instead of paying off Christmas for the next 12 months of the year, we decided a novel concept would be to NOT overspend. So we planned and we saved, and when the kids began to make their Christmas lists, we used our powers of influence to "suggest" items that they might want to ask Santa for. For instance, when Solomon said he really, really wanted a new Nintendo DS from Santa, we "reminded" him how much he really needed a new bike instead. The fact that the bike was $100 less than the DS was just a little bonus for all of us.

We also decided that instead of overwhelming them with gifts from mom and dad, we would leave that to the grandparents. As for their gift from us, we used the money we would have spent on presents and surprised the kids with a trip to Great Wolf Lodge in Concord. We had a fabulous time, and I'm 99.999% sure the kids didn't miss the presents they would have gotten. But I'll let you all be the judge. Here is a few pics of Christmas morning and our trip.

Santa came and brought Solomon a BMX bike and Sebastian a "robot talking dinosaur" (his request- I won't get into how hard that one was to find).

Slushy Magic!

The boys, clad in their Christmas sweaters, open presents for grandma.

Mirror, mirror

While in the grocery store the other day, I passed the normal gossip magazines and saw at least two cover articles about Jessica Simpson's suspected pregnancy weight gain. One article was titled "How much will Jessica gain?", the other "Jessica Simpson hires personal chef to control weight gain." I have to admit that I, like the rest of the world, am fascinated by celebrity news. Anything from weddings to babies to affairs- celebrities have virtually no privacy and I love it. But after seeing these two cover titles, my first thoughts were that they (aka the paparazzi) should give that girl a break. Or even better, give that girl a cheeseburger!

It may have a little to do with my current condition, but I couldn't help but think that criticism over celebrity pregnancy weight gain has gone a bit too far. I mean poor Jess- getting criticized about her weight during the one period in a girl's life when weight gain should be expected, even celebrated. If the average celebrity can't gain a few extra plans during this most magical time, then what does that mean for the rest of us??

I have to admit, during this pregnancy I have not been my own best critic when it comes to topics of weight gain and body image. During my first two pregnancies I gained the expected 35 pounds like a champ. I look at pictures of myself from those past pregnancies and think, ick- why didn't someone warn me I looked like that?? Fast forward to this pregnancy and 25 pounds later (yes, that's 25 pounds in 27 weeks) and my self-esteem is less than spectacular. I look at photos of myself and cringe at the double-wideness of just about every part of my body. My husband, bless his heart, still tells me I'm beautiful all the time. I figure that is a husband's job, though. After all, this is half his fault although I have reaped all of the "benefits".

From what I've learned by seeing friends go through pregnancy (as well as from my daily reading of parenting blogs), I'm not alone when it comes to being self-conscious during pregnancy. I realize there are two types of women in this world in terms of pregnancy and body image. The first type relishes what pregnancy does to their bodies. They see themselves as sexy, developing curves in all the right places. They find their ever-growing belly to be an amazingly beautiful. You will know said women by their propensity for showing off their "budding" bodies in such ways as wearing a string bikini on the beach while 9 months pregnant, taking a multitude of pictures of themselves in pregnant form, and even posing nude for a magazine cover while with child (ahem... Brittany Spears) .

The second type feels a little less secure with their growing physiques. Their newly enhanced curves are more likely to make them don a sweater than a string bikini. For these women, myself included, pregnancy brings on a certain set of insecurities that can range from slightly self-conscious to outright mortified. Hiding from the camera tends to be more of the norm than showing off in front of it. I mean, do I really need a memory of looking like Jabba the Hut? I don't think so!

Don't get me wrong, I do find growing a life in side of me to be one of the most amazing things my body has or will ever do. I try to focus on that life instead of the growing amount of stretch marks on my stomach and hips, or the size of my ass on any given day for that matter, but this is not easy. I blame the media for their coverage of celebrities like Jessica Simpson. After all, the media has taught us that our bodies must look a certain way, and pregnancy is no exception. You can't just be pregnant-pregnant, you now have to be thin-pregnant, or at least the latest gossip column would have us believe. Gaining 35 pounds is no longer acceptable. 20 pounds is now the desired amount of weight to gain for a 9-10 month period.

Looking at Jessica Simpson, I think she looks beautiful, glowing even. And if I think this of Jess then maybe, just maybe, I have to admit that I may be being a little too hard on myself. 20, 30, or 40 pounds heavier, pregnancy should be a time that we can celebrate our woman-ness, our divine ability to grow another human being inside of us, our bodies' ability to grow to gigantic proportions and shrink back down again (hopefully) all within time.

So with that said, I present to you a picture of myself, 25 pounds heavier and ever growing. Enjoy. And now I might just go eat a cheeseburger :)

The real baby blues

Two months ago Shad and I were given the news that our newest bundle of joy was indeed going to be a card-carrying member of the XY variety. In short, we were destined to add a third boy to our brood. Shad overjoyed by the news- what father wouldn't be after all?? Me? Well I was a little less overjoyed. To be honest (since that's what I'm going for these days), I was crushed. I love my boys more than life itself and I couldn't imagine not having them; but when the ultrasound tech pointed out the little tiny penis on the screen and wrote the words "IT'S A BOY!" at the top, a little piece of me died.

Now I know what some of you are thinking- "How dare she! When so many people cannot have babies; when so many babies are born with fatal anomalies! She should be glad she is pregnant and that the baby is healthy!"

Let me say that I completely agree with you. I know how lucky I am to never have struggled in the fertility area. I see everyday the devastation of children who are born sick and will never recover, and I am extremely grateful that I've never had to deal with something like that.

The piece of me that died that day was simply a dream of having my own daughter. A dream of frilly dresses and pink baby bonnets. A dream of ballet classes and mother-daughter outings. A dream of all things girly really. This dream may have been completely unrealistic but it was my dream, and the news that it was never going to happen was quite sad.

Recently, I've been wondering how many other women share similar experiences from when they found out the sex of their baby. I know most women tell people, "Boy or girl, as long as it's healthy" but how many of those women really long for one particular gender? How many of those women are secretly (or not so secretly in my case) devastated when they find out that their little bundle of joy is not what they expected?

Apparently this topic is not so popular and tends to incite both appreciation for those who openly discuss it and rage at those who admit to having similar gender-favoring dreams/longings such as my own. On one blog I was reading, the author, who had openly admitted that she wanted a girl but got a boy instead, was accosted with all sorts of rageful comments. One person even referred to her as "sick and disgusting." Sick and disgusting, really?

My reaction to that ultrasound didn't last long. It took a couple of days but eventually I got out the funk about everything I was going to miss out on and realized everything I would be getting from being the mother of sons. Boys are A LOT of fun and A LOT less drama. I wouldn't have to worry about the girl drama that ensues at even the earliest of ages (as I'm told by my friends who have little girls), and I wouldn't have to deal with the I-hate-you-because-your-my-mom phase of raising a teenage daughter. I'm having a 3rd boy, and while sometimes I still get a little nostalgic when I see little baby girls all dressed in pink, I know this baby will be loved- most emphatically by me.

I had a dream and I had to mourn the loss of that. I don't think that makes me a bad person, or "sick and disgusting" but hey, maybe others do. At least I'm being honest about it.

Long time no blog?

It's been a while since I posted. I could use the excuse that I've been really busy, which I have, or that there hasn't been anything to post about, which is absolutely a lie, but the truth is, it's much easier to write about happy things that occur in one's life than the difficult things that occur along the way. When I started this blog, I wanted to write about what it's like to be a wife and mother of multiple children while still working and attempting to maintain some sort of a social life. I wanted it to be funny, light-hearted, but more than anything honest. But honestly, life isn't always funny and light-hearted. The past months have been filled with joys but also sorrows. Life-changing things have occured which I wasn't exactly sure I wanted the world (or at least the few of you that read this) to be aware of. Honesty, it turns out, comes with a price and that price is exposing one's deepest emotions to what life throws at us. So from here on I will try to do just that- talk honestly about the good, the bad, and the in between. Because that's my life.