Sarah Fain Has Starfish Envy

Hello Again...

Just checking in to say all's well!

I really am sorry for disappearing.  I just can't make myself sit down and write in a coherent fashion, and whenever I try I seem to have computer problems that make me give up before I can even begin.

But Champ is doing great.  I'm 38 weeks pregnant, which is full term, so she could pretty much come any day now.  There's still a lot to do, but the important stuff is done.

Tonight, I had sit-downs with both my birth doula and my post-partum doula.  They're both lovely, smart, caring women, so I know I'm in good hands.  And I see my midwife tomorrow morning-- we have weekly appointments now.

My ankles are starting to swell more, and my fingers get puffy when I'm hot.  It's harder to sleep.  I pretty much have to pee constantly.  And I definitely have more frequent Braxton Hicks contractions.

But I'm not expecting Champ for at least a week.

It's so strange to think she'll be here, out in the world, one day soon.

I just hope she waits long enough for me to finish the blanket I've been knitting for her.

Because once she's here, somehow I don't think knitting will be my priority!

Oh, Goodie! A Goodie Bag!

Look what was sitting on my desk when I got to the office this morning!

A gift for Champ from WP!  

It's chock full of all the things I'm going to need for Champ, but would never think of. Like baggies for disposing of dirty diapers.  And gripe water.  And Boudreaux's Butt Paste.  And pacifiers.  And Aquaphor Healing Ointment.  And a bottle brush.  And a Sophie The Giraffe teether.  And a bunch of other adorably cute baby things.

Although my very favorite part is the monogrammed bag.

Champ has a pretty cool monogram, don't you think?

THANK YOU, WP!

The Nursery!!!

My dad and step-mom came to visit last weekend, and believe me when I say that two people have never worked harder.

They spent two and a half solid days putting things together, taking things apart, taking other things to Goodwill, moving things, washing things, ironing things, organizing things, repairing things.  Anything there is to do with any kind of thing, they did it.

Consequently, I am... knock on wood... officially ready for Champ to arrive!

The nursery is set up!

Champ's clothes are washed.  The stroller has been assembled.  The car seat is in.  The diapers are clean and organized.  (I'm using gDiapers-- check them out.  Environmentally friendly and super cute!)

Even her blankets are clean and organized.

There are still some pictures left to be hung, and some shelves to get in order...

But in general... if Champ came early (I'm 35 weeks now!  Yikes!) there would be no crazy, hectic rush just to get the basics in order.  The basics are all ready, and waiting for her arrival.

The real questions is... am I ready?

TIme Warp

Sorry I've been so absent lately.  

My only excuse-- other than that I've been working a ton-- is that I'm tired.  Bone tired.  Muscle tired.  Brain tired.  All over everywhere tired.

It started at exactly thirty weeks, and it just keeps goin'.  I'll be thirty-four weeks on Tuesday, and happily my workload is soon going to become... well, not less.  Just more flexible.  I haven't been able to do a lot of napping for the last couple of months.  Starting next week, I should at least be able to take a half-hour nap when I need one.

Which I look forward to with a longing I can't even describe.

Even this weekend, which wasn't ALL about work for the first time in ages, was totally napless... for happy reasons.

Saturday, during what would have been my naptime, I had a (wonderful and reassuring) birthing instructor come to my house for a two hour birthing class.  And Sunday's nap time was filled with a three hour infant care class.

I now know all about the many stages of labor, how to breathe during all of them, what to expect immediately after the baby's born, how to give baths, take care of the umbilical cord, and get tricky clothes over baby's head.

You'd think I'd feel more comfortable with the impending birth of my child... but mostly I'm just terrified that she's coming so soon!  Six weeks!  Not enough time!  I have waaaaay too much to do!  

Aaaaaahhhhhhh!

And breathe.

I know it's all going to be fine.  

The nursery is thisclose to done.  I only have one more box to unpack from the remodel.  Work is going smoothly (knock on wood, fingers crossed).  WP can handle anything I can't, so nothing's going to slip through the cracks.  

Everything is going to be fine.

I just wish I had a few more weeks.

Remember when I felt like my pregnancy was going so slowly?  Remember how I wanted it to go faster?

Well.  I'd like to feel a little of that now.  

Instead, I feel like things are moving at the speed of light, and Champ is going to be here in two blinks.

And as much as I want to meet her, and see what color her hair is, and find out if she's as feisty as I suspect she is...

Later would be better than sooner.

Of course, a month from now, when I can't breathe anymore and my reflux is even worse than it is now (everytime I cough I almost puke-- not cool)... I reserve the right to change my mind.

And that's not a complaint-- I really have loved being pregnant.  More than I ever imagined.

So maybe I can eek out eight weeks instead of six and a half?

What do you think, Champ?

This one's pretty much up to you...  

The Kind Of Mother I Would Like To Be

I would like to be the kind of mother who sees and supports the best in my daughter.

The kind of mother she can laugh with.

Who encourages her.

Who honestly knows her strengths and weaknesses, but doesn't dwell on either.

I would like to be the kind of mother my daughter wants to spend time with.

The kind of mother she wants to share with when something amazing happens.

And the kind she wants to call for comfort when the other shoe drops.

I would like to be the kind of mother who exposes my daughter to a wealth of experiences; a multitude of people, places, and things.

Who teaches her tolerance and kindness and generosity and openness and compassion.  

I would like to be the kind of mother who doesn't judge-- my daughter or others in front of my daughter.

I would like to be a positive force in my daughter's life.  A refuge.

I would like to be the kind of mother who teaches my daughter that there is nothing she cannot do.

That happiness is important.

That she is valuable.

That she is special and unique, and that she deserves love and kindness.

And that, except on rare occasions, fear is just something to get through-- not something to stop her.

I would like to be the kind of mother who accepts my daughter, exactly as she is.

I would like to be the kind of mother who puts my daughter first.

Who considers her feelings.

Who listens to her.

Who hears her.

Who treats her with respect and love, even when I don't understand or like her choices.

In short, I would like to be the perfect mother that I know my daughter -- and every daughter -- deserves.

Most of us don't get that perfect mother... and I'm sure, in many ways, I will fail.

But this, at least, is a good place to start.  

Thirty-Two Weeks and Superstitious-ing

For the last thirty-two weeks, I have been wearing the exact same jewelry.

On my right ring finger-- my grandmother's wedding ring.

On my left ring finger-- my "Faith, Action, Yes" ring.

On my right wrist-- the two diamond bracelets I got myself for my 40th birthday. 

And around my neck-- my starfish necklace.

Each of them has a specific meaning on my fertility journey.

I got the "Faith, Action, Yes" ring about this time last year, when I was feeling really low and like I would never get pregnant, and I needed a constant, physical reminder to keep going, even when I thought it was hopeless. 

And when my mom gave me my grandmother's wedding ring last July, my nearly two years of bad fertility luck turned around almost instantly.  I've written here before about how I feel my grandmother's presence in connection with this pregnancy.  When Champ is born, her middle name will be my grandmother's name.  (It's not a great match with Fain, or it would be her first name.)

As for my 40th birthday bracelets... it took me so long to figure out what I wanted to get myself, that I didn't get anything until the middle of September.  When, about five hours after an IUI, I finally got my bracelets.  

That IUI was my ninth-- and the only one that worked.

Finally, what with the title of this blog and all, the meaning of the starfish necklace is clear.

Basically what I'm saying is, obviously my jewelry is responsible for my (knock wood) successful and easy pregnancy.  

And now I have this fear that if I take off my rings/bracelets/necklace for more than the duration of a one hour pregnancy massage, something terrible will happen.

(To digress, I'm also using the rings as a gauge of both weight and swelling.  The fact that I can still comfortably wear both rings, tells me I haven't gained too much weight.  And several times a day, I slide the rings off and back on to ensure that I'm not yet turning into a giant mass of bloat.)

Anyway.  

I'm already trying to mentally prepare for the day when I slide off my rings and can't slide them back on again.  It's bound to happen at some point in the next eight weeks, either from basic third-trimester weight gain or general third-trimester swelliness.

And when it does happen, I am not going to totally freak out.

I'm going to handle it like the non-superstitious adult that I am.

Unless I totally freak out.

 

 

Time For A Name Change

I am pleased to announce that Little Girl will, from this moment forward, no longer be known as "Little Girl."

I mean, I'll admit... "Little Girl" was a first-thought kinda nickname, requiring absolutely no cleverness on my part, and having no regard for her actual personality.  It was easy, yes, but it's never felt quite right.

After all, "Little Girl" is diminutive!  Cute!  Downright reductive!

(Not that she's not going to be cute.  I'm sure she will be.  Cute as a button.  Cute as a basket of bunnies.  Cute as the cutest little cute thing you can think of.)

But, in addition to the cuteness, this kid has spunk.  

She's not a lounge-about kinda chick.

She has places to go, things to do, people to see.

And she reguarly smacks the bejeezus out of my insides.

She's a kicker.  A puncher.  

And there's POWER behind it.  (Just ask my bladder and my ribs.)

So.

From now on, "Little Girl" will be known as...

Champ!

As in, Heavyweight Champion of the Womb.

If the ocean-like undulation in my belly is any indication, Champ approves.

Can We Make Days Twenty-Six Hours Long?

Question for those of you out there who have given birth: how did you prepare?

I had this silly idea that I would spend an hour a day meditating.  And that I would listen to Hypnobabies affirmations in my spare time.  And watch birthing videos.  And do squats every day.  And practice breathing.  

And WHATEVER ELSE THERE IS that I'm not doing.

My utter lack of preparation is kind of freaking me out.  A lot.

I mean, I'm tired.

I have a lot going on right now.

And it's not that I'm not trying to mentally prepare for giving birth and being a mom.  I absolutely am.

In the ten minutes a day I have to think about it when I'm not completely exhausted beyond description.

Thoughts?

Suggestions?

Kind words?

Help?

My yoga teacher and my midwife keep telling me that I need to start resting and stop pushing myself... but that's really hard to do when there's an endless list of things that Must Be Accomplished in a timely fashion.

How big a deal is it not to put a bunch of mental preparation into giving birth?  And keep in mind that I'm planning a natural birth.  No epidural.

Just me.  Breathing my ass off.

It's possible that I'll have a tiny bit more time, once the next few weeks are over.

I just hope this kid doesn't come early.

Progress!

The new nursery closet!  Not traditional, perhaps, but exactly what we need. 

It still needs to be painted, but the knobs are already in place...

I admit, I am making no attempt whatsoever to be gender neutral in my design choices.  If I think it's cute, I'm getting it.  If Little Girl turns out to hate butterflies and flowers, that's totally cool.  We'll change it.  In the meantime... I couldn't love this room more.  

Unless it were bigger.

Bigger would be nice.

Especially since I got the coziest glider I could find... and by cozy, I mean gigantic.

And, yes, the top of the side table is shaped like a flower.

Because THAT is how I roll.

Thirty-One Weeks! What???

Tomorrow I will be thirty-one weeks pregnant.

And I'm happy to say, I'm still feeling pretty darn good.

A bit tired.  A bit cumbersome.  But overall... pretty darn good.

And thank heavens for that.

Because I still have a LOT to do to prepare for this baby.  Some of it's baby-specific, and some is just house-stuff I'd really like to have done before Little Girl arrives.

Fortunately, all of it is managable... although I must admit that since last Tuesday, when I turned 30 weeks, this pregnancy is a whole new thing.

Before 30 weeks, I felt so normal that now and then I would actually forget that I'm pregnant.  Working 17 hour days was a drain, but not impossible.  I could get around as easily as I did in my pre-pregnancy life, and clambering into a high director's chair was no problem.

Then, suddenly, 30 weeks happened.  

No more director's chairs.  At least, not the high ones.  Tying my sneakers requires a trip to the floor.  And the reflux!  Holy smoke.  If I don't sleep on a stack of pillows, I wake up a couple times a night with bile rising in my throat.  That's if I'm not already awake, since I pretty much have to pee constantly.

To be clear, I'm not complaining.  

I'm actually extremely grateful for how easy this pregnancy has been.  (Excuse me while I pause to knock on every piece of wood within reach.)

Despite my fears, I didn't get gestational diabetes.  My blood pressure (so far, and please let it continue) has been normal.  My ankles are puffy, but not badly so.  I'm not overly tired.  I haven't gotten sick.  (Although I do have a scratchy throat today, which is making me nervous...)

I know, of course, that there's no way to know what the next nine weeks hold.  

But I can hope... and I do... that this pregnancy continues to be as blessed as it has been for the last thirty-one weeks.

And that nine weeks from now... I will have an equally easy and blessed labor... and, finally, a healthy, happy baby girl.

.

Before I sign off, I want to thank you all for the kind words about Daisy.  I was touched and comforted and I'm deeply appreciative.  xo