Oh, I do feel pregnant

My last post on this page, had me discussing not feeling pregnant. Well, I feel pregnant. In fact, it wasn't but a week or so after that post morning sickness hit--not too bad, the typical, oh, I must be having a boy sickness. I am glad I did not have the stomach emptying nausea of a girl pregnancy, and yes, there will be one more little boy running around here. Wasn't my choice, but I guess I wasn't really given a choice, except maybe not to get pregnant. Oh well. Sometimes it still catches me, a sick feeling of disappointment, but life's funny that way. Sometimes you just have to take what you get.

I am tired now. 28 weeks pregnant. Big. Sometimes I forget I will actually have this baby, and see this stretch of early exhausting mornings getting everyone ready for work and then going to work, and then coming home to be a useless slug on the bed for the evening. This is no way to live. But it will end. I will have maternity leave for a while, I will not be so tired forever.

I am trying to decide whether I should return to work next year. Financially, it's a no-brainer. We are struggling now (our debts have really creeped up on us), and not working just seems ridiculous. But I also feel like this is my last chance to be "be who I am supposed to be." At home, homeschooling, relaxed. But I would have to earn money. I have thought about infant care. There are pros and cons. I like little ones, but it can be unsteady money. I can gloss over things when I am trying to convince myself and others of things. I get SO lonely at home. How will I save for retirement? Is it the right thing to do? Is it the fair thing to do? Will I feel fulfilled at home? Do I really want to keep writing IEPs for the rest of my life? Do I want to keep passing my kids on and rushing out the door for the next several years?

It will likely come down to the hard facts. Eventually, I will really sit down and figure out the money. Going by how I feel isn't helpful. Feelings CHANGE. Opportunity cost is REAL. I will lose and gain something no matter what I choose.

I am lonely now, though. I mean, I enjoy going to work and chatting, but it is all just shallow coworker chat. Maybe that is the most I can hope for. I am who I am, after all. I am not popular or highly sought after. I am slow to laugh and the last to get the joke. I am very opinionated and have high expectations of others. I like to be different. Maybe I am, after all, destined to be a recluse. But when I work, I can pretend that isn't true. I can build up shallow relationships and call them enough.

I hate making decisions. Where is my knight in shining armor?

Pregnant?!

I just don't feel pregnant. Other than my face looking puffier and redder than usual, that is. Part of me worries, is the baby okay, and part of me remembers what a NOT having a baby will do for me, real vacation for Karl and me, maybe next year, not having to pay for daycare, no labor/childbirth struggles. I want a homebirth, but I want  pain relief. If I do unassisted, then I don't have to pay a huge bill, but there would be noone to sign my forms for short-term disability after the baby is born. But ultimately, it would probably still be cheaper in the long run. If I hire a midwife, they want to be paid prior to the birth, and I could still be transferred which would be a killer financial.Double hit. I would have to get prenatal care for my own peace of mind, even if I went unassisted, because *I* want to know the likelihood of complications-is there a defect that might need immediate medical care. It is important to me to know this as much as possible beforehand. But then that means the pressure those last few weeks, when the doctor starts worrying about size and going too long. Nevermind that this doctor once said I had the pelvis for an 11 pound baby. She still backtracks and says doesn't want too big of a baby (no, I have not yet had gestational diabetes). So, you know, the trust issue. Or last time with Gabe, she told me he was breech, and then the next time, didn't say a thing. I asked her, and she said, no, felt fine. And I wondered, is she just full of it? Wouldn't she know I would be worried about that. I don't want abdominal surgery. If we are about to die, sure, but not for her convenience.
Ooh, the trust issues. Noone should feel bad about their birth experiences, hospitals are formidable places, and let's face it, they are in control. But, I WANT to have this baby vaginally, I think it's medically important if at all possible, and going to the hospital always means, you are ultimately in their control. And they don't care about your emotions and memories. They care about lawsuits.

And nurses. It's really luck of the draw. When we went for the labor that stopped with Liam (I was at 5 cm, but the contractions stopped as soon as I hit the hospital), the nurse was amazing, but we went home. When we went back a couple days later, I had the nurse from HELL. Bossy, judgemental, and kept giving her political opinions. I WAS IN LABOR. Shut the hell up!

When Gabe was born, we had a quiet, professional, kind nurse, who left us alone most of the time, which was fine. But I would prefer someone warm, like the first, who I felt comfortable with and cared for. Is that too much to ask?

I hate these feelings.

So now I am just like-whatever.
New person in family? Maybe. Right now, I feel like it is the little Oliver that Gabe should have been (but noone liked the name). It has to be Oliver. But I want a girl, of course. I love dance lesson, and cheer, and frilly dresses, and shopping, and, oh little girl, I hope it is you.

Obviously at my age, I worry about Downs. But that is determined already, so worrying won't change anything.
And I worry about miscarriage, and I feel guilt, because if I do miscarry, I am just not going to do this again. I feel that shows a lack of commitment to bringing this soul to earth. Yeah, I am weird.

Party today. I wish I wasn't sick. I hope I can talk by then. I hope I have the energy to help get the house in tip-top shape. Karl did a LOT of work yesterday, and we had the downstairs carpets steamed, but still. So much left to do.

And since this is my kids' blog, and you have seen all my worries and rants over Liam, he got into Wings, the gifted program. In the end, we did not medicate him for ADHD, because there was still the question of whether he was just bored or not. And when his teacher told me he disturbed everyone during storytime, but still knew the answers, I stopped worrying quite so much. He just needs an understanding teacher who can keep him occupied and gives him some breathing room,, so he doesn't rebel (because it goes down hill quick, then).

Love.

A New Baby??

So this is likely to be full of feelings and feminine issues, so if that is a problem for you, you should probably just go now:o)

I. can't. sleep.

First of all, I have never found out so SOON I was pregnant. Usually it is somewhere around at the 28-29 day that I get a positive test. I got this one on the 24th. I think this is because I am getting older and my cycles are getting shorter, as my body just does weird desperate things in a last ditch attempt to get pregnant.
But it also scares me. What if the test was wrong? What if both were faulty and defective?

Reasonably, if that happened, I would cry a bit with disappointment over the person I would not be meeting, and then life would go on, much more financially stable than the other route.

It's weird. I have been on and off the fence about a baby for a couple years now. I like babies. But they cost a lot. I also like going out with my husband. I don't like paying for daycare, and I can't afford to stay home. The absolute minimum we need to pay our bills each month is 3000 take home. Karl doesn't make that. It is going to be tight. A couple times we have tried in the past couple years, then freaked out and hoped nothing would happen.
Then two weeks ago, Karl just said, Let's just let what happens, happens. And of course, something happened.

So now I have all these conflicting emotions. I am already getting older, but now I can't even convince myself I am slightly attractive(who is attracted to a pregnant woman?). I don't want to be broke. I don't want to be in debt. I don't want labor pains. I don't want a hospital birth (but that is the cheapest--or rather, it allows you to pay over time).

Am I cheating poor Gabe who is overshadowed anyway?

And what if I have a miscarriage. I am sweating half the day, and then when I cool down and stop, I worry the little person has died, and now I have to face telling everyone. Well, facebook would take care of that, I guess.

A couple weeks ago, I prayed and told God I was ready for our new family member. Why? I don't know. In my imagination, the little one must have been whispering from the spirit world, waiting to enter my body and start human life. Nudging me towards the path I wasn't sure I wanted.

I want a nicer house someday. I want another car. You get it, right? I am American. I need my things!

And the time. The 255 days left until little one is due. How can I wait? My mind is already preoccupied and distracted. The thought is always there in the back of my mind. Prepare. But most things are on hold until the sex is determined. And that can't happen until august or so. Maybe September. And I am afraid if I contact my old OB/GYN she will be horrified that I am pregnant again. Is that crazy?
There is a birthing center that also does homebirth, but you have to pay up front, and I am wondering if their transfer rate to the hospital isn't a bit high.
I guess if everything was going well, I could purchase a birth kit and have it alone, like Taryn, but oh, the labor.

We'll see.

The excitement. The fear. The self-centered analyzing of every twinge in my body.

And my oldest is getting married soon:o).

Thoughts on Liam

I have deleted so many blogs, this is an incomplete record. I just..put it all down, and then worry how it will be taken, and take it all back in.

Liam. Sigh. I love Liam. But he is still quite challenging. We are currently seeing if he has ADHD. Everyone thinks he has it, although, to find out, people just fill out checklists. I fill them out for students, but I am not good at that. I hardly ever check the extremes, preferring to stay with the safer options of occasionally and sometimes. Nothing is ALL the time.

I'll be honest. I feel a bit cheated. I mean, I wanted this baby, and we had this amazing, smart, funny boy, who just can't seem to mind and control his impulses. I have a little guilt for feeling cheated, but it's just societal guilt, because we moms are supposed to feel guilty if we feel anything less than perfectly blessed, right? But it is wrong. Now I feel like people think we are doing something wrong, and who knows, maybe we are, but....until you have been here, you have no idea. Caleb was hard, too. But Caleb is his own can of worms. Caleb with his sensory issues. Caleb did get overstimulated, too, and act out (he was a biter), but Caleb was different, and Caleb did well in school. He could reign it in. Caleb went through angry phases when he was young, depression, and struggles. He just didn't fit in, I guess. The game is hard for some people to pick up on. Even with me, I hear myself saying something, and part of me knows, they will think I am weird, but I feel compelled to share sometimes, even if, or maybe because it will make people think I am weird. Who knows? And now that I am older, I can see what I could have done better with Caleb, but the problem is, that shyness and discomfort he has, well, I have that, too. Every activity  I could have forced him into (and let's be clear, athletics were never for him), meant I had to go along and make the dreaded small talk. But I could have done better. I should have been more invested, more organized. Some women can do the single parent thing, but I am not so great at it. But...here we are. Time moves on, there's no room for guilt, only learning and doing better.

But, Liam. He is like this big bundle (big, because his appetite far outweighs his desire to run around) of firecracker energy. Nonstop talking unless he is on the computer, and sometimes even then he is talking. Trying out the words the speaker is using, memorizing the things he likes. He has a great memory.

And his teacher and principal don't like him. I know they question me and what is going on in our house. I know. I get it. And there are issues. I am not organized. We haven't participated in any spirit week things, because I forget to read the many papers that elementary students get. And let's be honest, I have been here before. It's not new and exciting to me. But, still, I invite any of them in to see what is actually happening. To see that we do have healthy food, we do bedtimes, and stories. We struggle with every behavioral alternative we can think of to work with Lima Bean. And mostly, that he is not bad. His principal said he showed no remorse for hitting kids on the bus. And damn it, I know my kid. He might be stubborn and hide his feelings (where would he get that), but he is smart, and can understand, once he is calm. But that one statement, just make me sick. He is not going back into love. His teacher probably dreads him on the days when he is there. And I know how mean teachers can be, even when they believe with all their heart they are being fair. I have seen it and felt it. I get where they are, too. They need compliance. They need him to keep his hands to himself. Of course, he doesn't have the right to trample on the other kids. He doesn't know how to make them like him (Caleb was different. Caleb made friends well, until he was in second or third grade. I dont know what happened then-and maybe that's part of it. Maybe something DID happen. Something I don't know).

So anyway. I guess if the sheets come back high in ADHD-like behavior (and let's be honest-I have felt he was different since he was kicking all the time in pregnancy. I talked about the differences), then we will try the blood pressure medicine that is supposed to slow his thinking down, since he is too young for stimulants. But despite my wondering frequently why parents don't give their kids meds to help them fit in, as a parent, let me tell you, IT MAKES ME SICK. It makes me sick and heartbroken to consider giving my child drugs to help them make it through the day. And THIS is where the guilt lies.

Because I believe, as his mother, I should step up, leave my job, and pull him out of the round hole we are trying to shove him into. I should value his welfare and health over my desire to see other grownups and buy nice things. I shouldn't worry about a retirement fund, when my biggest duty is struggling right before my eyes. And I am choosing economics over love. And it MAKES ME SICK.


That's all folks. I'll numb to it. Adjust. Push it back. Because I want to fit in, too. I don't want to always feel like the poor girl in hand me down clothes. I want my things. And if we have to keep chiseling away at the edge of Liam, so I can have it, then..That's what we will do right?

Sixteen--or mushy mom musings

Nearly seventeen years ago I was sitting outside on the swing in our front yard of base housing in Hawaii. My husband at the time came outside. He had been on the phone with some friends from when we lived in Maryland, and they had just had their third child.
"We should have another baby," I said (or something to that effect). And though it was day 22 of my cycle, and not likely, we gave it a go right then (well, we went inside and locked the bedroom door), and lo and behold our third child was soon the way. At least that is how I remember it now. It was a long time ago.

I had a lot of morning sickness with Taryn. Not as much as with Tierney, but to the point where I was sick of throwing things up. Peanut butter and hardboiled eggs were especially bad. I was happy she was a girl.

As you probably know by now, Taryn was born at home. I had been getting midwifery care at Tripler (sp?) hospital, but I had bought a birth kit, because I really wanted a home birth. Taryn's dad read the book "Emergency Childbirth" to be prepared, and I waited to see how I would feel on THAT day.
It was a busy day. I had a nonstress test in the morning, because it was one week past the due date. That was fine. I took the kids to the beach in the morning, and then Tierney to afternoon preschool (that lasted two weeks or so. I guess I have always been a bit soft, plus I really wanted to homeschool). As I was picking Tierney up from preschool around four p.m., I noticed painless contractions about 30 seconds to a minute long. I took both Tierney and Caleb up to the playground, and let them play, I had to pick their dad up at Kunia, which was about a 25 minute highway drive at five or five-thirty (I can't remember), so I we had some time time to kill before then.

The contractions continued, painless, but coming every three minutes or so. As I was driving to Kunia, they started to become more painful. I let my husband drive home. By time we were home (six?) they hurt. I tried taking a bath, but the tub was hard. I got out and then I got in and tried again. I decided it hurt too much, and had my husband call the hospital to see if I could get an epidural (being in the midwife program meant I was supposed to try to avoid epidurals), but come on, the pain. They wouldn't answer definitively, and I saw no other reason for going. I shut myself in my room, and my visiting mom watched the kids. I buried my face in my pillow at times to keep quiet. Finally, at one point, I decided I was done, and I was pushing her out!
So I started to push. The pushing lasted about in my mind about 15 minutes, but it could have been 30 or 45, I had no real concept of time. She would come down, and then after the contraction, slide back in. I remember crouching and feeling her head. I remember thinking I needed to stay upright and let gravity work. I remember worrying that if I pushed too soon, my cervix would swell, so I guess I was more reasonable than I give myself credit for.  Finally I lay on my side, pulled my right leg straight into the air, and out slid baby girl. Her dad caught her and placed her on my belly.

The next day we took her to the ER to be checked. She was about 8 and a half pounds. she was my smallest baby. She was in perfect health.
She was born around 8:15 p.m.
I have always loved retelling Taryn's birth story, because it has always been such a natural and pleasant memory for me.

But the story doesn't end there. The story is of a sweet, goofy, serious girl. Taryn was never a difficult child (stubborn at time, like not wearing her retainer, but I guess she will have to deal with that. She has also never been thrilled about me getting pregnant with Liam and Gabe, but she is a good sister). She has had her moments, but overall she has been fairly easy to reason with from a young age (unless it involved shoes). She always loved clothing. She has a good sense of humor, but has my slow manner of processing and taking things in before reacting. Taryn is an artist. With words, with pictures, any canvas she has chosen to apply herself to, she has been successful. She can dance. She said it doesn't come naturally, she has to work harder than most, but when she gets it, she is lovely She has her dad's slender bones, and coppery brown hair. I have always thought her beautiful.

Taryn is smart and reflective, a vegetarian, and already a better cook than me (not that I set the bar high, but she NEVER rushes). She isn't sure what she will do in the world. She wants to write. Whatever it is, I am sure she will use her quiet, confidently-independent grace to reflect the world in some intriguing way.

Birthday Party

The party is done. It was a bit of a flop to me. I didn't have the time (or rather I did, but I managed it poorly) to do what I wanted.and it didn't look a thing like pinterest. Haha. But thanks to Karl and Tierney and Taryn, we got it done. 

Tierney, bless her heart, is my mother incarnate. So she was generous and helpful, if outspoken and well, not caring of the "rules" of society. Gotta love her. Karl was exhausted. Taryn was amazing. She not only watched four small kids this morning, but also prepared most of the snacks for us. Caleb did not participate. Five kids came which was exactly what I hoped for, and Liam seemed happy. But Liam was happiest with the cake. He likes the other kids, but is still very much in his own world. I can't really define it. I have a lot of swirling thoughts for my personal blog, angsty stuff probably not best suited for a birthday party post!

I didn't get many pics of the other kids, because I always worry that that's weird, you know? I DO KNOW I will NOT mix a family and school party again. Ever. It's too awkward for me. 

:o)

Moving on Up!

To a bunk bed, that is. Yesterday Karl's parents gave us $500 to get the boys new bed (or get one more, since Liam already has one). We opted to get inexpensive wooden bed ones which could be taken down into two beds. The hard decision was between white (which matches their room now) and darker wood (which will be more "masculine" as they get older. Since the beds were fairly cheap (200), I went with white. They will need something else by the time they are late elementary anyway.

I also bought another mattress, and bed sets. Now it's hard for me to have mismatched bed sets, but I know it isn't about me, but them, so I did it! Go me!

Here's a preview:

I won't bore you with the mattress.

For Gabe:

and

And for Liam:

Looking forward to it!