Final Week- Law & Order style

I've never watched much if any of the series Law and Order in my life. But I am familiar with the intro and the famous sound bite played when transitioning from scene to scene.

If my current life was a TV drama (who am I kidding...I think it really is, but without the affairs/murders/cliff hangers) I could see a shot of me waking up each morning with the day of the week displayed below and the sound effect played each time.

This 39th week has been the LONGEST week to get through.

Almost like a prisoner waiting to get sprung from their sentence....watching the clock to strike midnight to take a one way bus ticket into a new life.

I've tried to keep busy in order to pass each day...doing some ridiculous things in the process. Hello reorganizing the linen closet and pantry! Throw in breaking down wooden pallets and using power tools to make a Pintrest wall mounted shoe rack and picking up free firewood from the roadside for the backyard neighbors firepit we crash most weekends.

Unless you have a specific high risk pregnancy and have strict orders to not do much if any lifting....when it's your 2nd plus pregnancy....you never seem to hear the doctor say to avoid any heavy lifting. Your 25 lbs. toddler isn't going to lift themselves in and out of the car/shopping cart/bath tub etc... You are now a veteran momma and have to just deal with it.

....and by deal with it...it might also include a bonus of your youngest figuring out out how to open doors. Which results in door knob covers to keep said little brother out of the bathrooms....including potty trained big sister :/ Not to mention, making her think little brother is "obviously" ready to potty train when he takes his diaper off when you're not looking.

Big changes a comin!

Prepping for Baby Rodeo #3

A special treat of a cheeseburger among family

Each pregnancy experience thus far has brought highs....lows....and what the heck!

1st Baby:
You registered as soon as you found out the sex
A carefully selected nursery theme was pinpointed and meticulously designed down to the light switch panel.
Lots of congrats from strangers when they found out this was your first
You weighed the possibilities of if going to a birthing class was best for you and daddy to be.
Your baby will not watch any TV until age 2

2nd Baby:
You may or may not even register depending if you are having the opposite sex
Negotiations with the husband are in effect as you try and convince that yet ANOTHER stroller is needed.
Useless baby gear you thought was needed is passed along or sold off
Old baby clothes are gone through for stains and/or anything gender neutral.
Memories of the first child wearing said clothes bring you to tears and remember how small they were once.
A 6th sense is developed for instinctively knowing when your toddler is going to crash across your tummy.
Curious George is your friend while cooking dinner or trying to get a cat nap in.

3rd Baby
You decide that room sharing develops character and don't bother with decorating a nursery.
The crib will be reassembled AFTER the baby comes.
You question if baby appointments for weeks 20-32 are really needed when time is precious already.
No matter the season, you know somehow the baby won't go around naked despite the season differences.
.....and the rest shall be continued later.    

As each child has come, there seems to be less and less work getting ready for the arrival, while the mess created by the older only doubles. It doesn't revolve around the latest and greatest baby gear on the market, but the basic necessities to survive. We may cloth diaper our kids, but I've come to giving myself a break and still use disposables when we are out and about from the house....if the budget allows it of course. Giving diapers and wipes as a baby gift may not be as fun for the giver when there are lots of cute clothes available, but I look at them as gold bars, knowing I won't have to spray the #2 off before hitting the wash. Cloth diapering toddlers takes changes to a whole new level of gross.

Wet Saint Bernards & Cat Doors

Someone once said that giving birth is like a wet St. Bernard trying to squeeze through a cat door. And I am sure most men who have witnessed  a vaginal birth might agree when they try and wrap their heads around the idea of passing something that large through their own loins.

After looking through all my available options and advice from my OB/GYN...we are going to go ahead and make this one a scheduled c-section.

No more induction...

Pitocin...

Back labor...

With many of the perks which come with scheduling your baby's birthday and making childcare arrangements.....outside of the longer recovery and pain connected with a c-section...it hit me a few days ago.

I'll never push a rectangular pumpkin out my hoo-ha again.

...and I got a little sad and had a hard time believing I even did it with Eliza. It seemed like forever to get to 4 cm, and I wanted my daughter in my arms NOW and the blasted back labor to knock off. Matt assured me, that yes indeed, I had in fact pushed her out on my own.

I could put my foot down and travel a good distance to a doctor who delivers at a hospital with VBAC options, and pray I could go into labor on my own...

But let's face it....

I am more closed up than a nun when it comes up to the delivering side of things. And I guess, a real challenge when it comes to epidurals being administered. The last thing I want to do is be in labor before hand and then an emergency surgery where I would be knocked out because my pain level can't be controlled (big gasp)...and be knocked out again for the birth.

....this time around though, I am going to insist on gentle cesarean birth, which gives the mother the chance to see her baby born and immediately bond while being put back together again. That would truly be wonderful this time around :)

2nd & 3rd Pregnancy Guilt

When you're pregnant with your first baby, you are blissfully unaware of the gift of free time to use during your more exhausting phases of pregnancy. You may be working, or staying home...but when you are home, you decide as to just how you want to spend it.

Napping....

Long peruses down the baby aisles as you dream about your nursery coming together....

Catching up with friends on the phone....

Crafting....

Experimental cooking....

Then, you decide to have another baby and reality sets in.

You now find yourself trying to balance the unpleasant side effects of pregnancy with chasing around a toddler in your time at home. The toddler desperately wants your attention all.the.time....and all you can think of is how much longer until you can realistically convince them it is nap/bed time.

Thoughts of your children's future success in school crosses your mind as you put on yet another popular Jake and the Neverland Pirates marathon off Netflix. You have no grandparents or other relatives who live near by to help out and you are not trying to thrive, but survive!

Graham cracker crumbs speckle your family room rug....

The laundry pile is coming close enough in size to challenging the right to vote...

The layer upon layers from the last week of meals on and around the dining table is becoming worthy of the worlds largest petri dish.

....and don't even get me started on the kitchen.

Living in small quarters with a growing family makes trying to do maintenance cleaning a real joke.

Some days we go from pajamas to pajamas, since there is no point in growing more dirty laundry when there are no plans to step foot outside the house.

I have to tell myself each day, "This is only temporary."

But guilt is a tricky thing, when you think about how your baby of the family will become the stigmatized middle child. How you should be making more of your time with just the two kids with crafts and creative play. I would be lying if I said I didn't have any pregnancy regrete. I was so certain that Nolan was to be my last baby as I layed in the hospital bed, recovering from a very hard birth experience.

The expression, "Be careful what you wish for", holds some real truth to it. Yet, God knows what's best and doesn't have second guesses, unlike our imperfect selves.