34 weeks

So after all that worry about how to keep B from coming into my room in the middle of the night, I took a chance and just left his door closed. I figured if he got really distressed it would take me about two seconds to get to him, so why not try it rather than letting him crawl into bed with me, only to lug him back into his room? 

So I left the door closed. Guess what? Right on schedule I heard the pitter patter of little feet at 2:30 AM, then heard him stop at his closed door. He cried for maybe three seconds, then I heard his little feet patter back to his bed. And...that was it! And even better - the next morning he didn't get up until almost eight! Woo!

So this counts as the next on the list of things I freaked out about that turned out to be not a big deal. I have left his door closed all night the last couple of nights, and it's been just fine. In the morning he just cries for half a second and I come get him and that's it. I probably should have just left his door shut all along. 

So in honor of making it to 34 weeks, I would like to comment on things I am looking forward to saying goodbye to once I am not pregnant anymore:

Totally annoying insomnia.

Feeling the absolutely desperate need to pee almost all of the time, but then you do and you pee maybe a teaspoon worth. Good times.

Horrid, acid-y heartburn. I'm tempted to say it's not as bad as last time - but maybe I'm just tougher!

Pants constantly falling down, pulling my underwear and shirt with them.

Bad vision! I am so farsighted at the moment, as I was last time, too. Hopefully this will return to normal.

Never being able to find a comfortable position, whether it be standing, trying to sleep, sitting, driving, etc. It all sucks.

Being short of breath all of the time. There's a suffocating feeling that's very unpleasant. Put that together with constant congestion and I spend most of the day (and especially night) feeling like I can't breathe.

Not being able to wear anything cute - I rotate the same frumpy mom shirts and couple of pairs of pants and sensible shoes every week. But that's more being a mother of small children than being pregnant. Do I really want Bumpus' grubby little banana-y fingers on my Anthropologie white linen blazer? Not so much. Those things are just going to have to stay on the shelf for a while!

So those are my physical complaints, which as you can see are really not a big deal. I definitely feel better over all than at this point last time. Six weeks to go and I still feel pretty good, all things considered. I can't even imagine what 40 weeks will feel like...!

For now the tentative plan is to have my sister come out on my due date (3/14) if I still haven't popped. This way childcare will be covered; then I just have to get to the hospital, which at this point I am considering just cabbing it, especially if it's the middle of the night. There's just no one I feel comfortable calling at 3 AM. But we'll see how I feel as I get closer.

My intrepid babysitter is down for watching B for as many days as it takes if I go early - but that plan has issues. She's three hours away, and what if right when I need her she's about to start a job for someone else? She said she'd keep a light schedule around my due date, but I definitely need to be prepared with lots of backups for looking after B, just in case I don't make it to my due date. 

So the plan is a) make it to due date, b) continue to be healthy and not have to schedule something, and c) need to get to the hospital in the middle of the day rather than the middle of the night.

I know these things are a tall order, but just putting it out there!

Relationships

I read somewhere (Malcolm Gladwell no doubt) that the human mind can only keep track of 150 relationships. So that's your family, and their spouses and children, and some of their friends, and your coworkers and some of their families and friends, and your friends and some of their families and coworkers. After that I guess we just kind of max out (although Facebook has probably upped that number considerably!).

As a single parent I am so entirely focused on my relationship with my one son (no significant other in the way) that it's hard - indeed, almost impossible - for me to fathom bringing a third dynamic into this house. Right now it's just me-Bumpus. But very soon - in just six weeks! - it will be me-Bumpus, me-Theo, and Bumpus-Theo. I'm haunted by many of the concerns women about to have second children have: will I love the second as much as the first, what if the second is a handful, what if the two boys bond together and shut me out, what if I bond more with one of the boys and shut the other out and break his heart? But honestly I've read enough and talked to friends enough that I know none of these things will happen - I know that your heart expands for all of your offspring; I know that your kids should bond since one day they'll only have each other. So these are fleeting concerns at worst. 

Still, B and I have been having a pretty good time lately (now that the hitting crisis is over!) and a lot of snuggly time, and it is very bittersweet, knowing these are the last days of "just us". He won't remember it, and I'm sure I barely will, years from now when life without Theo will be unimaginable.

The last three nights B has done something he's never done before - gotten out of bed in the middle of the night and crawled into bed with me. It's because he's been sick, awful congestion and coughing all night (only seems to be at night, and no fever, so I'm just keeping an eye on it), and I can tell he just needs to be comforted, so I've been indulging him. But I know I'm going to have to stop it - it makes sleep for me utterly impossible (sleeping with a two-year-old is no bueno) so I'm exhausted, and once the baby comes, that's his spot. So I have to figure out how to handle it. I could just keep his door closed - but I don't want to scare him (I know he'll just scream until I come and get him); I think I'm going to have to gently put him back in his bed, letting him know the days of crashing mom's room at 3AM are officially over. He'll still scream but it seems nicer than just keeping him trapped. I'm just doing everything I can to make sure a habit doesn't suddenly change when the baby arrives - I don't want him to associate anything negative or any "shutting out" with Theo showing up. So, got to nip this one in the bud, I'm afraid. 

A shower for Theo

Today's shower (or "sprinkle" as it was called) was perfectly delightful. I attribute this to the good friends who took the time to throw together this party for me...and me going in with what I'd like to call "managed expectations".

Showers are a funny animal. Existing entirely in the realm of the female, they exist to celebrate two of the major milestones in a woman's life - marriage and childbearing. Since usually they have to be thrown for you and you can't really ask someone to do such a thing, you are in the awkward position of waiting around for someone to volunteer. You may supply the guest list, but usually you have very little control over what happens - no clue as to who's actually showing up, what activities are planned, food served, etc. One sticking point for me was the fact that the person in charge of invites had decided to not include my registry info on the (emailed) invitations; when enough people had asked me if I needed anything and did I have a registry, I innocently asked the invite person if they could just email everyone with the link to my registry, assuming it had been forgotten. She responded that it "just wasn't done" for a second shower and that she would tell anyone who asked and to not worry about it. Hmmm. 

As the weeks went by I was still getting lots of emails, texts, etc from people saying, "there's no registry, right? You don't need anything right?", so I decided to take matters into my own hands and email everyone the registry info myself. Before you think me a grasping whore, keep in mind the following: I am the poorest I've been in 13 years and can't even pay my bills at the moment, and I gave away all of my baby stuff, like really important, not cheap stuff like swings and breastfeeding pillows and bouncy chairs (like a idiot). I also have massive, giant tubs of baby clothes, and the idea of everyone thinking I had no registry and so instead buying me outfits was enough to send me into hysterics. So, that's a little background on that.

Then in the last week I personally had gotten so many "sorry, I can't make it" emails, texts, etc from people that I really began to wonder if anyone was going to show up. It just sucked because I had cut the guest list so severely at the request of the organizers - and wasn't able to include any of my new friends I've made since B was born; SMC friends, mommy group friends, etc. Had I known how many people would ditch out at the last minute I wish I could have included some more people that I really wanted there. 

So I got myself all worked up about it this week. You have no idea. I scarcely wanted to mention it for fear of sounding selfish and ungrateful - I've seen what happens to women who complain about their showers on my WTE app; they get torn limb from limb! But I think it's ok to admit I kind of freaked out a little bit this week. The whole thing just had this "it's your second kid, who cares" feeling about it and it was bumming me out. 

However, a little attitude adjustment on my part (much like when I go into one of my lesser attended dance events, I make a promise to myself to honor and appreciate the people who did care enough and make the effort to show up, rather than being bitter over those who didn't), and the day turned out to be really lovely. Yes, a lot of people weren't there - but a lot were, and it was beautiful and charming and everyone mixed well and the gifts weren't completely overwhelming and I did feel very loved, which is what showers are (supposed to be) all about. 

Being broke, as mentioned, I was unable to get gift cards and make nifty little gift bags for all the organizers (I spent over $200 on this last time), but I did write heart felt thank you cards and made jars of chocolate covered coconut balls as a thank you. I even colored them pink to make them all fancy. 

There are lots of photos that will be sent to me later, but for the sake of expediency I will just post the ones I took (or are on my phone). We had an owl theme and I am positively buzzing from the Trader Joe's fruit chocolates on the tables. Zzzzing!

33 weeks

I should make this post all about vomiting, but for all of your sakes I won't. Suffice it to say, I was sick Saturday night, took Sunday to recover, but then still felt really lousy and run down Monday and Tuesday. I was beginning to worry maybe pre-e had reared its head again, or I was having some other pregnancy complication as yet undiagnosed; until I spent all night Tuesday night throwing up again. Good times! So I either just hadn't really rid myself of the stomach bug, or caught it a second time, or caught a different one, or was just run down. Who knows? Fortunately B has not been sick again (knock wood!) and after taking the day to just lie in bed all day yesterday (it wasn't easy, but we pulled it off), I actually feel normal today for the first time in about a week. Or, normal for being eight months pregnant, anyway!

I have my midwife appointment later today, and fingers crossed all still looks good. I'm now 33 weeks, the point at which a lot of my pre-term friends started delivering. I'm pleased I've made it this far - but am also exasperated that even at 38 weeks this baby could be not fully developed, could still have respiratory issues, etc. It's still a long slog before it's really safe to have this baby. But still, I'm delighted by the following: with only seven weeks left, other than this stupid stomach flu, I am still able to operate at full capacity, which is more than I'd expected at this point; still no signs of pre-e (yay); I got my medical card so I think it's safe to say I may just not have a bankruptcy-inducing birth this time thanks to the ACA; and my weight will probably remain manageable at this point (I am up about 26 lbs, and can put on 7 more probably, but at least I'm not looking at huge gains from now on). 

The biggest things on my mind right now other than all of us staying healthy are getting my event launched Feb 1, my shower coming up this Sunday, and preparing for taxes at the end of Feb. I am cutting it so close with the money this year, it's a little frightening - I am having to put off all my debt payments until after Feb 1 (not a problem since they're not due until then, but I'm one of those people who prefers to pay bills the minute I get them), and am not even sure I'll have enough in the bank to pay my mortgage. I am counting on a big opening night like last year, but experience has taught me that results can be all over the place - one year I got one person signing up on opening night! This year unfortunately a couple of other events have decided to make their opening night the same as mine (or the night before, etc), so that may affect me negatively. I also haven't been able to announce my instructors because they've been giving me an unprecedented runaround, which makes the event look unprepared. But man, I need to make a lot of money, and fast. It's going to be a real nail biter this time.

Stomach flu, part II

I'm sad to report that B's vomiting episode Weds night was no fluke. I started to feel queasy Saturday and threw up all night. It was just awful. As another blogger posted about her recent bout with this nasty bug, I discovered much to my chagrin that throwing up this far along in pregnancy also means simultaneously wetting your pants. Good times, huh?

Thankfully B was not sick when I was - but I did have to deal with a spectacularly poopy diaper, making breakfast, and entertaining him while still feeling like I should be hovering over the toilet. It was pretty awful. Thankfully it was Sunday and I already had B booked for the Baby Kennel so I could go to an SMC meeting (which I of course had to miss), so I was able to drag our butts over there, drop him off, and spend the day lying in bed recovering. 

I'm still not 100%. I went to a meetup today that involved a child-friendly restaurant, but I just couldn't manage any food. I hope B doesn't get it from me and we just keep trading it back and forth. Two episodes of stomach flu in two months is a bit more than I can bear, really. 

Right now I'm in the middle of three loads of laundry and have about four trips up and down my front stairs to take out the mass quantities of garbage. No rest for the weary, eh? 

32 weeks

I am officially eight months pregnant...even though I technically have two months left to go. I'm pleased to announce that unlike earlier in the pregnancy, I have almost zero fear about the birth; it's so inevitable now that there's no point in being scared of it. It's better to just get geared up and prepared. I also do really believe now that this one will be different/aka better. And even if it's not - I never have to do it again! So there's that.

I've stayed off all week because I kind of wanted to see how my "Wake Training" would go before giving a full report - but it's kind of been all over the place. I did the hallway thing for two days, and it went ok - minimal crying, and at least I didn't start our long day together angry and flustered. But then late one night as I lay in bed I heard B wake up and start throwing up; considering how many people I know who are making their way through their second stomach flu of the season, I braced myself for a long night. Thankfully it was a one time thing, but I let him in my room to cuddle the next morning, and have ever since, and it's been ok. No hitting or throwing of things. Instead he now comes in and dumps his stuffed animals all over my bed and crawls in next to me to cuddle. Has he somehow figured out this is a better way to get mom's attention in the morning that smacking her in the head with a remote? Is this just a fluke? Who the hell knows. But I'll take it. 

I have been making more of an effort to be "present". Even though I'm with him 24/7, I figured it wouldn't hurt to play with him a little more, sit him on my lap facing me and sing a little more, etc. It's hard to remember these little beings really need us, especially when they only seem to want to run away from us all the time, and my main objective in life is to encourage him to be independent of me. Well, if it stopped the hitting, great. Whatever it takes, really. Because I couldn't take one more minute of that BS.

I broke down and put him on the waiting list for the preschool that is part of the baby kennel. I don't know why I didn't do this before; I guess I didn't realize they would have a waiting list. As it is I'll be lucky to get him in by summer - but I thought it couldn't hurt just to have his name down. It's not expensive but it's not cheap. I could never afford it right now - but in six months? Maybe. And the best thing about it is he knows and likes the place (I'm taking him there in about an hour) so I would think the difficulty transitioning would be minimal. 

We are in a weird spot with both of our health insurance where our old policies have been canceled but we've gotten zero confirmation on a new policy. I called Kaiser and they said mine was "in processing" but B is through MediCal now technically and I have not gotten a word from them. I will call Monday, but it sure is nerve wracking. What if we have an emergency? This thought crossed my mind the night he threw up; with his policy canceled technically dating back to Jan 1, I have no medical card for him and no idea even where to go. This whole insurance thing I'm sure will all get ironed out for us and end up way better than what I had before, but right now it's a bit of a mess. Just stay healthy and accident-free, Bumpus, is all I ask!

Wake Training

Today I met with my doula. Wow, these ladies really want you to have an unmedicated birth. I did not have the balls to point out how manipulative I thought her paperwork was; I was honestly too distracted and exhausted to care (see reasons later in this post). But she did want to warn me about all of the dangers of epidurals again, despite my stated preferences, and at one point said the one thing she feels really strongly about is the introduction of narcotics in labor and told me all the horror stories around that - until I pointed out I'd had morphine during my labor, nothing bad happened, and it helped me survive what turned out to be two more miserable days of excruciating induced labor that, had I not had any pain relief, would have absolutely resulted in a c-section. See, you just can't tell a second-timer that kind of stuff and get away with it. Anyway. Believe it or not despite all this I do not feel the need to find someone else. I think we understood each other that I know what I want and I will not be swayed. 

It brings me back to a question I posed before having B, though - why do women consider natural childbirth a "goal"? Why is "seeing how far you can get without an epidural" considered something to strive for? I mean, man, that pain is unreal, and can go on for hours, even days. In the old days women had no choice but to suffer. Why on earth would anyone choose that if they had an alternative, unless their head was full of those one in a million bad reactions? I just don't get it.

But anyway, back to me being exhausted and distracted. As always my mind is full of B, and especially how our home life, and particularly my life, has deteriorated to absolute shit over the last few weeks, and is getting worse and worse by the day. Why? Because B won't stop hitting me or chucking things at my head. That's why. 

He's not even doing it to be a brat. He doesn't do these things when angry, tired, or frustrated. He does them when we are having a nice time together playing and he gets all riled up and wants to have more fun. It is maddening. Yesterday I attempted to take him up to the playroom in the afternoon after I'd run myself ragged at a playground all morning and just couldn't face running around chasing him at yet another playground all afternoon, too. Did he play with any of his toys up there? Nope. He just kept climbing on to the daybed and hitting me. Or throwing toys in my face. I kept telling him no, no hitting, no throwing, and dunking him on the floor, sometimes explaining why, sometimes not. He would cry for half a second, not liking being on the floor, and then climb back on the bed and immediately start hitting me again like nothing just happened. This went on for hours. I finally just stood up and put my face out of the skylight to breathe, completely fed up and not knowing what the hell to do in the hours still left before dinner. I took us downstairs and sat in the kitchen staring into space, since we can't go into the living room anymore because he no longer listens to me when I tell him to stop touching things, and again just climbs onto the couch or chair with me and starts hitting me. 

So I stared into space for two hours just waiting for time to pass while he played around me. Then this morning it all started all over again - comes into my bedroom at 6:30 (after I've had about four hours' sleep), climbs on the bed, and starts hitting me. I try to redirect. I tell him no a thousand times. I dunk him on the floor. I explain over and over why he's being put on the floor. He cries. Then climbs on the bed and hits me. When he chucked both heavy TV remotes right at my head, I just snapped. 

I just put him out of the room and shut the door, so he would only have access to the safe hallway and his room, also safe. But not my room. And he cried. And I didn't care. Not one bit. I laid down and for the first time in weeks didn't have to worry if he was about to get hurt, hurt me, or destroy something. I was so tired I just didn't give a shit about anything. 

When I went out to get him later, he was asleep on the carpet. I woke him up and took him in for breakfast and it was like nothing ever happened. He was his usual jolly self. 

And you know what? I might try this again tomorrow. Anything on earth is better than being beaten up by your child for hours while you are eight months pregnant, horribly sleep deprived, and facing another day of chasing him around playgrounds all day just so he can get out his energy. 

So I'll change his sodden diaper. I'll dress him and give him snacks and drinks. I'll give him tons of safe toys. I'll give him hugs and kisses. But I will not give him the opportunity to throw things in my face and hit me again and again. Short of beating the crap out of him, which I refuse to do and which will no doubt not accomplish anything anyway, this is what I need to do to survive. In the mornings he just has to be somewhere else. And I really don't care if he likes it or not. I'm over it. It's either this or pop out of bed at six AM, immediately get us up and fed and dressed, and immediately get out of the house so he can run around all day from 7 AM until 5 PM. No, and no. And especially no when there's a new baby!!!

If I cared about his comfort level we would still be co-sleeping and he would still be keeping me up all night nursing every hour on the hour. Disbelieve all you want - I have a friend with a two-year-old who is in just this situation. It can happen very easily if you don't put your foot down.

So I am going to call this Wake Training. I have no idea if I will be successful in any way. But I have to do something or I will literally lose my mind. And this kind of thing - Bumpus rough housing around and being dangerous - is going to have major ramifications when there is a fragile newborn in the house. 

Just in case you're wondering I have done extensive googling on this issue, and much to my mixed pleasure/disappointment, this issue is very common. And it always is right at this age - just shy of two - and often has nothing to do with being frustrated because they can't communicate, or need attention, etcetera. They are usually just playing and pushing boundaries. So he's not a sociopath or a bad kid; he's completely normal. And it's almost always something that only happens at home when he's bored. And guess what - pretty much all of the anecdotal evidence I've read about this phase says there's really nothing you can do about it. Say no, of course. Distract, remove, all of that. But most women have found, like me, that nothing works. It's just something you have to power through, and can drag on for months. So for now I need to just limit the situations where it can happen. And be glad that right now I am his only target. 

I hate the toddler phase with the heat of a thousand suns.