The Second Baby

It was about this time last year - about 11 pm - that I realized that the contractions were finally getting stronger. I had been having them sporadically for weeks - through the blizzard! - but after a long day of work, 36 hours before my scheduled C-section, I was in actual labor.

I woke up my husband, we grabbed our bags and the kid - after all, my mother-in-law wasn't driving up until the morning- and got in the newly acquired minivan. We drove in to the city, to my office, so I could get my computer. After all, my labor barely progressed the last time, so I had plenty of time.

We got to the hospital, got checked in, and waited. They were getting me ready for a C-section - next, after the doctor finished another surgery. I was at 3 centimeters. My daughter, then 3 (and a half!) held my hand during the bad contractions, telling me it was all going to be okay. My friend came to sit with her. It was about 2 am.

They gave me an epidural. It worked for a little while. But then, like last time,  it stopped working. They prepped me for surgery. And then we waited. And waited.

Just after 5:30, they wheeled me in to the OR. They took one look at me and told me nevermind. I was ready to push. I said, "I can't do this." I was unprepared. I spent the entire pregnancy planning the easy non-traumatic birth I had been denied the first time, and they were taking it away from me.

They wheeled me into L&D. And, apparently, I could do it, just like generations of women have for all of history.

It all happened so fast: the baby was in my arms by 6:40. My handsome, healthy son was an unplanned VBAC. I should always remember that the universe just laughs while I'm busy making plans.

I was up walking within hours instead of days. My milk came in and I nursed. (Heck, I'm still nursing this hungry baby.). He stayed next to me the entire time, We were home in 2 days.

This baby. My second baby. My last baby. My son.

On the eve of his first birthday, he is about 21 pounds - so much bigger than his sister! He has the goofiest six-toothed smile and a contagious laugh. He has a sparkle in his big brown eyes that warns me when he is up to no good. He loves his dad, worships his sister, and makes friends wherever he goes.

Mostly, though, he is mine. And he doesn't know it yet, but he has healed me in so many ways.

Appellate Jurisdiction

The other day, the kiddo was watching TV (Disney Junior) and saw something she wanted on a commercial -- I am not even sure what it was, but I can guarantee that she already has something similar, in the piles of toys that have eaten the family room. Whatever it was, she told me she wanted it, and I said, "Do you have money to pay for it?" She said, "No, but you do. Buy it for me."

I stuck to my guns and said no. I don't remember exactly what she said after that, but the gist of it was that she did not believe me and wanted to appeal my decision to a higher authority. I told her she had two choices: Santa Claus or Grandpa. 

Of course, the smart kid says, "I want to talk to Grandpa's face!"

On the one hand, I think it's great that she wants to talk to my dad.  On the other hand, he will probably buy her what he wants.  He used to be really good at saying no, but with the grandkids, seems to lack the same resolve.

Now I just have to teach a 75 year old how to use Skype.

And this, too.

There are one or two amazing things I forgot to write about in my earlier post.

A few days ago, she got a scratch on her leg, and I told her that I would kiss her boo-boo all better.  She loves that.  Now she asks for me to kiss her boo-boo every day, even though you can barely see anything.  And then, this weekend, I had a scratch on my chin.  She pointed to it, said, "Mommy boo-boo.  Kiss?"  And then she gave me the biggest, wettest kiss.

In our new family room, we have a blue striped throw blanket.  Every evening, when she starts to get tired, she brings me the blanket and says "Baby."  That means that she wants me to wrap her up in the blanket like a little swaddled baby and cuddle with her.

Add caption

I love these things so much.  I hope they never end.

Two

It's been a long time since I've written.  So long that the baby is not a baby anymore -- she turned two last month.

At two, she is a bona fide toddler.  She runs and she jumps and she climbs and she talks and she squeals and she laughs and she throws the most ridiculous temper tantrums.

A few weeks ago, we were in a chain restaurant near our new house -- yes, a house! in the suburbs! -- and after a string of me telling her to stop doing things -- no climbing, no squirming, no throwing food, no kicking mommy -- she wrote me a song.  "Mommy, no!" is destined to be a hit, someday.

She knows what she likes and what she doesn't like.  She loves matchbox cars, peeling the paper off of her crayons, anything from Frozen.  We were in Walmart right before her birthday, and she saw a whole display of Elsa dolls.  I tried to walk past them, but she is too quick.  "Oooh, Mommy!" she squealed.  "Let it gooooooo!"

She now has one of those dolls.  How do you say no to that?

We go to gymnastics every Saturday.  She loves to tumble, to climb on things, to swing from bars and rings.

This child has almost no fear.  A few weeks ago, I would have told you that she has no fear, but a few tumbles down the stairs have changed that.  She is now averse to the stairs.  She stands at the landing and cries, "Mommy, carry!"  It doesn't matter how full my arms are -- or how empty Daddy's arms are -- she only wants me to carry her.  No amount of scooting or crawling or handholding will do.  Only carrying, and only Mommy.

I'm sure I will miss this when she is a teenager and hates me to the core of my being.

This weekend, we went to the grocery store.  While we were waiting in a long checkout line, she lost it.  Not even stickers from the cashier would make it better.  So, I took her out to carry her, her diaper bag, and, two heavy bags of groceries.

Finally, we made it to the car -- on the second level of the parking garage, of course. I had to put her down to find the keys.  I stood her up between my legs and told her to put her hand on the car.  Instead, she ran.

She only got a few steps away before I caught her.  When I did, she gave me this look -- you know the look, the look you give someone when you are taunting them, when you are waiting for a reaction.  In that moment, I could see the future teenager that is going to challenge me on everything.

I was so scared and angry; I gave her a whole speech about running away from Mommy in a place where there were cars, and she could have gotten hurt, and NEVER DO THAT AGAIN.  She laughed.  I told her that I was so angry with her that we couldn't listen to Frozen in the car for the rest of the day.  Her reaction changed.  "No, Mommy, no!  Let it go!"

Indeed.

Almost-Mother's Day

It's been a long time since I really celebrated Mother's Day. For the past four years without my mom it's been hard -- a reminder of what I've lost.

But this year was the start of something new for me, my identity as a mother and not just as a daughter and granddaughter. Even though the baby is not-quite-here yet, I am already her mommy, and she is already my child, my daughter. There's just so much to look forward to in that.

L sent me lovely flowers, and informed me via text message that the baby helped pick them out. I'm not quite sure how that works, since I'm fairly certain that the only one she communicates with is me, and it's through kicks and punches.


Over the past few months, with the pregnancy, my mother has been back in my dreams, a lot. I mostly just remember bits and pieces of them, but I have a vivid recollection of one dream from a few nights ago. Mom and I were arguing about the baby's name, and who to name the baby after, and the argument escalated until it ended with me telling her that she couldn't tell me what to name the baby, because she was dead and I had to name the baby after her.

Sometimes I wish I just had sex dreams like everyone else.

It's official! We're having a baby!

Today officially marks 14 weeks -- the start of the second trimester.  And so, we started to share the news over the past few weeks -- and, after telling my boss, I posted it on Facebook on Tuesday.

Now that everyone knows, there are a few things we can share.

1.  How we found out.  We really didn't think it would happen so fast.  L and I had pretty much decided that we were going to get married and have kids, but were in no real rush to do the former.  But, because we're over 35, we knew that we probably had a limited window for babies, at least the old-fashioned way.

For some strange reason, we were convinced that it was going to take us a while to actually get pregnant, and so we came up with the clever idea to stop trying to not get pregnant.  And then, a few weeks later, early one Saturday morning, there it was, on the pregnancy test, clear as day.

So I did what any normal girl would do:  I went out to the sunroom to check my email and process the information while L made breakfast.  (We were doing a low-carb diet at the time, so it was eggs and bacon or something of the sort.)  When I came back into the living room, he hugged me, and I said something to the effect of "Oh, by the way, we're having a baby."

Nice, huh.

2.  How pregnancy has been so far.  In a word, crazy.  I mean, since we've found out, it's been nonstop doctors, discussion of risks, weird test results, food (and smell) aversions, sheer exhaustion, and a non-functioning immune system -- combined with work stress, holiday stress, family stress. . . .  Oh, and we managed to elope in the middle of it -- wedding stress.  (Well, sort of.  We do realize that by eloping, we saved ourselves about 99% of the stress of a "real wedding."  But we probably would have eloped anyway.)

Still, it's been worth it:  according to all the tests, we have a healthy fetus.  So there's that.

3.  The worst part.  Not telling anyone was pretty challenging for me.  I mean, I wanted to call my Nana the second I saw the positive test, but I didn't want to get her hopes up.  Every day, I would vacillate as to whether I should just call her and tell her.  I needed to tell SOMEONE.  And lucky for me, one of my friends was getting coffee with me when I got a call from the doctor's office with some of the weird test results.  So I had someone to tell.

But really, that wasn't the worst part.  The worst part has been not having my mom here.  She would have been ecstatic.  And then, one day, when I was really really sick -- with the cold that still won't go away! -- I said to L, with tears in my eyes, "I love you, and don't take this the wrong way, but I really want my mommy." 

4.  Why I love my husband.  Well, there are so many reasons.  But a really good one is that he talks to the fetus.  It melts my heart -- and I'm not the sappy one.

Oh, and you should have seen his face the first time we heard the heartbeat, and then, when we saw the baby on the ultrasound.

5.  Why I love my baby already.  Again, so many reasons.  But during the ultrasound, he or she kept doing all these super-dramatic things with his or her arms -- and then, right at the end, he or she showed even more attitude by flipping over and mooning us. What a little jerk!  I am so proud.