Movin' Right Along

I haven't documented my pregnancies or births with any of my children and I feel a little sad about that.  But, I also feel a little sheepish about recording it here on my very public journal.  I recognize that people aren't necessarily interested in sentences that begin with..."Well, my uterus...."  or "The doctor said...."  

But I feel that I have a story to tell.  Every woman does.  I have my own pioneering journey to motherhood that is uniquely mine.  One that maybe my daughter might gain strength from one day. (I'm not silly enough to think that my boys will have any desire to go back and read the "pregnancy posts" when they are grown.  They'd probably rather eat broccoli.)  I won't record it all.  I don't want to be responsible for anyone reading this passing out with boredom.  But I'll record some. 

I'm at the 27 week mark now and feeling (and looking) every bit like I am 37 weeks pregnant.  If you were to visit my home you would see the tell tale signs that a large and cumbersome pregnant lady lives here.  There are various pillows in all sizes littering the floor next to my side of the bed.  I start out with 2 and end up with 3 and sometime in the middle of the night I fling them all off the bed in uncomfortable disgust.  I've not been able to come up with the right ratio of pillows to belly; therefore, comfort eludes me.  

I've also reached the stage where rolling over is like unto a 4 point turn.  Grab headboard, hook leg on side of bed, maneuver belly and finally twist body to final resting position.  It won't be long until I reach the stage of having to wake up the man who got me into this state and requiring that he push me onto my other side.  I think it is the least he can do.  (Well, that and paint my toenails which are out of my reach.  He's getting decent at it but shouldn't quit his day job.)

I might not bend down to pick up the clutter on the floor, but if I drop a cookie I'll certainly put forth the effort to retrieve it.  Since bending at my non-existent waist is not possible, I gracefully do a plie in second position so that my fingertips can grasp the tasty morsel.  I've gotten pretty swift at this maneuver so the 30 second rule still applies and I can eat my cookie with confidence.

There is a wisdom and resolution I've gained through my four pregnancies that have taught me to be grateful for the goodwill that is shown to pregnant ladies instead of having to show everyone that "I can do it".  I allow people to give up their chairs so I can take a load off and I'm thankful for the rest.  I leave the heavier objects (except Kai) for others to carry and can do so without feeling like I'm lazy.  

I'm finding it easier to ask for what I need and learning to say no without feeling guilty.  My desire to make the birth of our last child one that is joyous and happy and as peaceful for our family as possible (despite the tumultuous birth and recovery that is to come), has led me to organize and plan so that we won't have any clutter (physical or mental) standing in our way.

I am finally able to embrace the ever changing emotions that come as a result of this roller-coaster ride of hormones.  I can throw my hands up in the air and say, "Bring it on!" instead of feeling like I'm not a strong woman if I shed a tear or two.  Oh, and there have been tears!


So here's to the last 9 weeks.  May they be uneventful, happy and (dare I wish for it?)...swift.

Boys, Interrupted

*This was written back in June after we had the first of many (and many more to come) ultrasounds.  

We interrupt our regularly scheduled program of blue and red, polo's and plaid, and cargo's and khakis.....to bring you ruffles and ribbons, pink and purple, and tights and tutus.  Girl things.

It is a girl.  We're having a "little miss."  

So ingrained in my vocabulary these past 6 and half years is "buddy" or "mister."  As in...
"You did a good job, buddy!"
"You better stop throwing your bowls off the balcony, mister!"
Or my favorite: "Young man!  When I catch up to you, you aren't going to like it!"

Now it might be....
"Hold still, little miss, while I attach this utterly frivolous and extremely feminine explosion of pink ribbon to your newborn hairless head with something sticky:  honey or K-Y or Karo syrup or Elmer's glue should do the trick."
"Young lady!  Stop calling your older brother Katherine and chasing him around with my perfume and lip gloss! And NO!  You will not get a sister, little miss!"

When the ultrasound tech put the magic wand on my gelled up belly, the first thing she said was, "Well, you're having a girl."  All nonchalant like.  And then she swiftly moved on to measuring the baby's stomach and bladder.

"Wait a minute!" I said.  "You have to go back to the parts that clearly denote that this squirmy little thing in my tummy is indeed of the feminine persuasion.  GO BACK!"  I demand.

Sure enough, the technologist found the pertinent parts and pointed them out to my satisfaction.  And then I had her re-point them out.  You would think that I was staring at an alien from the dethroned planet of Pluto. I was just so shocked and not ready to start thinking pink.  But there it was in black and white. 
 
I sense a shift in paradigms.  For me and our boys.  I'm bracing myself now for a whole different world of "issues."  Perhaps I'm more ready for it than I think?  After all, I do have some experience with girls.....seeing as how I am one!


But, if truth be known, I had a pang of worry this morning about my world being turned on its navy blue ear.  I awoke to a very cheery and bright eyed Owen two inches from my drowsy, sleep smashed face.  He gently said, "Good morning my prettiest princess!"  Then he gave me a kiss and went on his merry way to play demolition derby (or something of the sort).

I had this very selfish thought......"Am I about to be de-throned?"  Is there room for two prettiest princesses in this testosterone filled palace?  

I'm currently in the process of making room.  (Her's will be in our closet.  But that is another tale for another time.)