i'm my own midwife

Yesterday as I was huffing down the street I had that little tune playing over and over in my mind. These are my “official” prenatal records, in case you didn’t know. I usually record this info in a notebook for each child, but I can’t seem to ever remember where I put it. 

Of course, I have a wonderful community of midwives- friends- that keep their beautiful eyes on me from time to time, but for the most part, it’s just me.

I’ve hit those hard days of the last trimester. Crying for no reason, extreme exhaustion, insatiable hunger, hip pain, etc etc. I really thought I was going to lose it for a couple of days. I feel so guilty when I call Brent, who is contentedly doing his job at work- probably humming a happy tune- and have to sob into the phone some really pathetic thing that totally upset my day and has made me certain that I cannot continue. He’s a good man. He refuses to come home and “rescue” me. I can count on one hand…no, three fingers… the number of times he has come home early or called in to work because I was sick or feeling overwhelmed. I like it. It forces me to deal with life. The last time I could hear in his voice that he really wished he could come home and help (they get written up for leaving work early, even if they are sick!) but just couldn’t. He begged me to please stop crying and tried to help me get a grip. The really annoying thing is that in the rational part of my mind, I knew that there was nothing wrong. I was just tired (and sick). The kids were fine, life was fine, the sun was shining… I was just losing it. 

I made up my mind that something had to be done, so we made some rules. Rule #1:Kids are not allowed to drink from my water bottle or eat my food. Okay, so we really only made one rule. LOL

I’ve started taking a prenatal vitamin, because I just can’t get it all in with my diet right now. I’m trying, but it’s not happening, so my Plan B is a  prenatal. =)

It struck me the other day that I’m about to have another baby. I usually prepare for this as one prepares for a marathon. A good birth doesn’t happen accidentally very often, and  I like to try to have my body ready for the hard work of labor. SO, I’ve also just started walking every day. Today is the third day. I know, I know, if you are pregnant with your first or maybe second child you are probably wondering why it took 28 weeks for me to start walking. I did that with my first pregnancy. I did everything perfectly and looked at older fatter moms of many and wondered why in the world they didn’t take better care of themselves. Fast forward five years, and three and a half kids later, and I totally understand. “Yourself” comes last. Folks, I can’t even poop without some sort of interruption. My bottom hit the toilet seat at 6 a.m. yesterday. Prior to this event, it was peaceful and quiet in the house- no one was supposed to be up yet. As soon as I sat down, someone immediately began to yell and woke everyone else up. I could hear the pounding and banging through the ceiling as WWIII broke out above me. I’m not complaining, I’m just trying to give those of you who haven’t walked a mile in these shoes the idea. You think that it is as simple as planning it out, making room in your schedule, blah blah blah. It’s not. Take my word for it. It is downright impossible to work out inside your house because someone is going to hurt themselves just as you are striking the yoga position, and you are going to hurt yourself trying to get to them quickly. When your husband is gone for 9-10 hours a day, the last thing you want to do when he gets home is leave to get some exercise by yourself… but now I do. Just 30 minutes of walking. We have some perfectly slight hills, and as soon as Brent gets home I truck off in my tennis shoes. And gyms with nurseries are not an option. Germs and perverts- need I say more?!?

Anyway, my blood pressure was 106/64 last time I checked it, and baby’s heart rate was 152 last time I checked. (Which was several weeks ago since I loaned out my dopplerI was feeling all baby’s movements way down low, but since I’ve started walking they have moved to around the middle and into my ribs. Miraculous.  Walking is so good for mammas and their babies. My hips have started to hurt in the tell tale way that lets me know my bones are softening and moving to let a human being pass through them, so I’m trying to sit on that yoga ball more often to help facilitate that. 

Oh, and I’ve gained 43 pounds. I usually slow way down with the weight gain and start to gain more baby and less…ME… at this point, so I’m looking forward to that. 

I’ve started mentally preparing for all the changes and activity that will be taken place. Making lists in my mind of things I need to do before having this baby, things I will need to have this baby, and wondering with great curiosity what life with four little people will be like. I vacillate between being totally terrified and somewhat confident that one more baby isn’t going to make that big of a difference. Today when all three kids were loaded up in the van I started to talk with them about where we thought the best place to put the new kid would be. We all agreed that the new baby should sit in the middle aisle next to Arwen. Maybe this time I have a hope and a prayer of at least having someone to hold the pacifier in the baby’s mouth while we drive. (I usually do this WHILE driving. It works about as well as it sounds like it does. My babies don’t take pacifiers. I’ve tried every single kind. They just don’t take them unless you physically hold them in their mouths, and that defeats the purpose.  ). Charis is really excited about getting to see the new baby be born, and I’m going to talk to Brent about letting Arwen cut the cord this time, since he gets to catch the baby. I’ve explained to them all again, that Mommy is going to be making noises and moving and not to worry- it’s good pain that helps the baby come out. 

I’m also tinkering with the idea of setting up in the soap room. It’s such a big room, and it smells nice. LOL. However, it would put me further from the bathroom, and that is no fun, so maybe we’ll keep it in the living room after all. There’s still time to decide.

I’m off to find some protein.