Unrealistic expectations.

In our lives, there are times that we are thrown into situations completely out of our control. I believe, as human beings, that we crave that sense of control in our everyday lives to a certain extent. Personality tests and quizzes reveal that there are some who would like to control more than others, while the general population sits somewhere between OCD and lazy. There are many things in my life that I like to have control over, and where loss of control makes me feel a little chaotic and crazy.

Take having a second baby who spent the first 10 weeks screaming 18 hours a day. Chaos at its best, and it drove me absolutely bat-shit crazy. (Where did that expression come from, anyway?) What you have there is a prime example of a situation where we all lack control: our children.

U is for unrealistic expectations.

Okay, so maybe I had painted this beautiful, unrealistic picture in my head of what things were going to be like after Seedling arrived when I was on bed rest. For 8 weeks. Why not, right? All throughout my pregnancy, people kept telling me, "Oh, you'll never have another one like Sprout. She was the perfect baby! This baby is going to give you a run for your money!" WHY?! Why did everyone have to keep saying that? I persevered my whole pregnancy, responding with, "Well, you never know! Maybe this baby will be even better and I'll get some kind of respite from all the shit I've gone through this time around!" In my mind, I thought that I somehow deserved to have a good baby again, and that there was no way I was going to end up worse-off afterwards than I already had been for 36 weeks. Apparently I was wrong.

Here's where the control issue comes in. I expected to be able to control everything once Seedling made his yowly little debut: my body, my emotions, my husband, my house, my life, my Sprout, and, of course, Seedling himself. Highly unrealistic, but maybe part of it was from the whole 'Supermom' stigma that the media has created over the past 5 years. I felt like I had to be a Stepford wife, and that in itself is completely unrealistic (and ridiculous).

I recently joined a postpartum support group that has proven to actually be supportive (surprise, surprise), and went to talk to a local psychologist to gain some perspective on why it is I 'need' to control everything, and why I'm not seeming to cope as well as I 'should be able to'. Here's what I have learned so far:

- Since I got pregnant the time before Sprout, I have basically been dealing with pregnancy, miscarriage, loss of a close family member, the emotional fallout of becoming a first-time parent, pushing myself to pump full-time for Sprout for 8 months after not being able to breastfeed (she was a chomper-see previous blog postings), getting pregnant when she was 9 months, carrying through a horrible pregnancy, 8 weeks of bed rest, 5 separate pre-term labour episodes with 2 hospitalizations, a crazy baby who screamed almost 24 hours a day for 10 weeks, a sick baby who ended up in the hospital himself with severe reflux and choking issues, a mother-in-law who lived with me for 7 weeks and caused major emotional issues between my husband and I, the guilt that I've been carrying around about both Sprout & Seedling, and my poor little Sprout, who went from being this sweet little thing to having some intense behavioural issues that we still have yet to curb. (Best run-on sentence, ever. Eat that, grammar police.)

The psychologist I saw took a deep breath after I vented all of this at her in our first session, and said, "You know...I don't think this is postpartum depression - in the classical sense, anyway. Have you ever taken a look back at everything you've gone through and realized that you might just be recovering from a fairly traumatic past 3 years? Your son is only 2 1/2 weeks past the whole screaming thing...don't you think you should give yourself a little more credit, and a little more time to recuperate?"

Oh. Never really thought about it that way.

So I guess I'm not completely crazy, I just put waaaaaay too much pressure on myself and everyone around me (husband and kids included), and was desperately trying to control everything that was out of my control for a reason. I have also been way too hard on Sprout, and have had very unrealistic expectations in regards to her behaviour as well. She is also going through a tough adjustment period. It has been 14 weeks since Seedling was born, and for the 8 weeks before that, her little world was turned upside down with Mommy on bed rest and in and out of the hospital. That is 5 months out of a 21 month-old's little life. Of course she's going to be acting out! She is also almost 2, and a very precocious toddler. The phrase of the past week? "No way, Jose." She's also started 'exploring her voice' (screaming, growling, etc). Fun, huh?

I am determined to try and let a lot of the control issues fall away, but it is definitely difficult. I'm not saying that I shouldn't be in control of my own life, or that I am not trying to be a good parent, or wife, or friend. What I am saying is that I need to take a step back and let myself breathe and recover, however long that takes. Admit that I've had a rough time, and start rebuilding myself to try and get back to who I am. J, the psychologist, said that it is probably going to take at least 2-3 months for that shift to happen, and that it's not going to happen unless I let it (and let others support me while I'm taking those steps).

So if I've blown up at you, barked at you, yelled, cried, screamed, ignored, seemed quiet, withdrawn, or rude in the past few months, please forgive me (Sprout, Seedling, & husband included). It's getting better, but I know there were days when all I felt like doing was shoving a rag in everyone's mouth, putting earphones in, and blasting some old-school Nirvana. Or Hole.

Now for some awesome news: Sprout is 5 days into full-on potty training, and we've had ONE accident that proved to be very traumatic for her (the favourite 'rainbow' embroidered jeans got wet with pee and had to be taken off to get washed...she bawled for a half hour about it). She has over 40 stickers on her potty chart, and has been dry overnight for all but one night so far! I honestly couldn't be more proud of her for taking this huge step. I think it gives Sprout her own sense of control and makes her feel extremely proud of herself, which in turn makes me so happy. And hey, it's something out of my control, right? Take the diapers off, and I could have run her to the potty as many times as I wanted - if she wasn't telling me she had to go, or she didn't know how to 'hold it', it wasn't going to happen.

I am SO PROUD of you, my big-little Sprout! And Seedling, you too! Giggling, holding your head up, bouncing in your jumperoo, and just being generally so good during the days and nights...you're both growing up so quickly - another thing out of my control that makes me just want to freeze time some days! I love both of you with all of my heart.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Trouble, Tests, and Time.

This blog has been long overdue, and I have felt like I was going to burst recently if I didn't vent somewhere and let it all out. Let me just start by saying that it's been a hellish last 10 weeks, and things are just finally starting to fall into some semblance of a 'routine' that doesn't involve 18 hours of screaming and crying per day (myself and Sprout included).

T is for Trouble

I blogged about Seedling's reflux the last time I wrote, and since then, things have finally gotten better. He has grown a ton and started gaining weight again after a scary week or two on the Prevacid where he was losing weight and really not getting any better. Our ped has him on Losec now (Omeprazole), which is working absolute wonders. He still refluxes quite a bit, but he's not screaming when it's happening, so life is a little bit less deafening around here. Interestingly enough, my GP recommended trying Seedling on a probiotic drop called BioGaia, and that has been absolutely wonderful - after a few days, it pretty much eliminated his issues with passing gas and bowel movements, and they are much more regular. I have finally been able to enjoy having him around and interacting with him, and so has Sprout. That leads me to the next 'T' word of the day.

TESTS.

Why do all toddlers feel the need to test their boundaries. I know they're just learning about the world they live in and the crazy parents they have, but seriously...I've been about ready to snap the last little while. Sprout used to be this happy-go-lucky, super gentle, loving little bundle. Lately (I'm sure she's just rebelling because of the extra attention we've had to give Seedling), she has started acting out - BIG TIME. The kicker is, it's only happening when I am around. If I send her to Auntie's house for a day to play with the kids, the day is practically incident-free. What kind of 'incidents', you ask? Let me give a couple examples.

1: The Park.

While playing on the playground equipment (with me right there in case she falls - she's still such a klutz because her feet keep growing at astounding rates), she hauled down another little girl, younger than her, by her pigtails. No remorse, nothing. She didn't even get angry or throw a fit when I grabbed her and practically ran to the vehicle. No 'sorry' to the little girl or the mom, while I frantically kept apologizing, realizing that Sprout was that kid at the playground.

2. Auntie's House.

Sprout has a cute little friend that my sister watches who has very quickly become her favourite, and vice versa. Somewhat surprising, considering Sprout attacks her every time I am around and she is there, yanking handfuls of hair out of her poor little head, shoving her, pulling her clothes to haul her down, scratching and clawing at her face. Oh yeah. It's pretty terrible.

Now, I'm sure it's just a phase, but I've been having a really hard time finding disciplinary action that actually works. Verrrrrrry frustrating. I've been the good guy, the bad guy, the mean one, the sweet one. I've counted to three, stuck her in time out, taken away privileges, taken away toys, and only once, I actually pulled her hair (not hard, I definitely don't believe in spanking or violence as a mechanism for discipline) to try and show her that it hurts. All that did was make it into a bigger deal and now she talks about it all the time like I was the one who showed her how to do it. Total guilt trip from a 20 month old. Seriously ridiculous.

Speaking of guilt trips, the last part of this blog has to do with me. Yep, not talking about my kids anymore - think you can handle some real-life, crazy as shit, second-time-mommy-meltdown talk? Bring it on, you say?

Tick tock tick tock.

Everything gets better with time. Funny, my husband has been using the Trevor Project's "It Gets Better" slogan a ton lately in our house. That phrase really can be attributed to a lot of situations, mine included, but it sure doesn't make it easier when you're in the midst of all the craziness. I absolutely thought I was going crazy about a month ago. Certifiably, stick me in the nuthouse kind of crazy. I went through an entire dictionary's worth of emotions: sadness for not being able to do anything to stop Seedling from crying, anger that I couldn't stop it, angrier still that he would not stop, guilt for feeling angry because it's not his fault, resentment and feeling like I didn't want him anymore, crazy guilt for that - who doesn't want their own baby (apparently it's actually a more common emotion than I thought, especially with a difficult second child), guilt because of how much my bed rest and consequent high-maintenance new little brother have affected Sprout. The list could keep going on and on. I spent most of the time in tears, and still do occasionally. I have moments where I seem to have absolutely zero patience, and I have yelled at not only my toddler, my beloved Sprout, but at a helpless infant, my little sweet Seedling, who just laid there and screamed back at me with sad little tears rolling down his cheeks. That time, I definitely cried. Hard.

I completely understand now the feeling of picking up a screaming baby and thinking "I know exactly how someone could lose it and get out of control and shake their baby." It's terrible, and I know it is a fine line between the thought and the action, but believe me when I say I could NEVER actually do that to my child. What I am doing is trying to do things to help myself. It took a good 8 weeks plus for me to convey exactly how I was feeling to my husband, who kept on brushing it off and ignoring me when I said that I needed him to really see the big picture and understand that if he didn't start helping me more, I was going to fall apart. Things are finally getting better in that area, which is extremely helpful.

One of my biggest issues was my thyroid, which I didn't take care of for 6 weeks after I had Seedling (I was supposed to have it checked a week post-delivery). I have a disease called Hashimoto's Thyroiditis - check Google if you want to know more details, but it is basically an autoimmune disorder where my body attacks my thyroid as if it were a foreign object, and therefore suppresses its function enough that I need to be on synthetic thyroxine (Synthroid). When I was pregnant, my dosage increased to almost double what I take when I am not, and for 6 weeks, I was still taking that high dose daily. What can taking too much Synthroid do? Cause anxiety, jitters, irritability, bowel and stomach issues, mimic signs of depression, and cause heart racing/palpitations. Check all of those off in my case. My GP isn't convinced that I have full-on postpartum depression, and we're waiting until my thyroid regulates to see if she thinks an anti-depressent med is necessary (which I am open to if she decides it is required). In the meantime, I have sought out some help for myself. I joined a mom's group and have met a few new friends, I am attending a postpartum support group starting next week, and I have an appointment set up for some private counselling as well. I am not the type of person to shy away from admitting when I need help - I have not been coping well, and I know it.

Things do get better with time, and they definitely have improved from where they were. I feel a lot more balanced and less irritable since starting a much lower dose of my meds, and now that Seedling's meds are working well, life for everyone in the house is a little less chaotic and frantic. Take tonight, for example. Both my kids were bathed and in bed by 9:00pm, even though Sprout was sick today with a fever and slept until 6:30pm during her afternoon nap. I am fortunate to have a great support system of family and friends around me, and a loving husband who puts up with all the crazy and the somewhat sane, but I know there are a ton of women out there who don't have anyone to turn to.

If any of you are reading this now, please know that you're not alone, and you are by no means crazy. You're not the first person to feel how you are feeling, and you're not the only one who is going through it at this precise moment. It is absolutely normal to feel anger, frustration, resentment, guilt, happiness, sadness, and love all at the same time towards your baby, whether they are the first, second, third, or more. The thing is, you have to know what to do with it. If you're not doing well, be the first one to admit it. Hiding your emotions and bottling them up will do nothing good for you or your baby, or your marriage or relationship for that matter. I can see now that the right combination of difficult baby, terrible-twos toddler, and postpartum depressed mom could have the potential to ruin a perfectly good marriage/relationship. Find someone to talk to, even if it's not someone professional. I have even discovered that a friend of mine with a baby born close to the same time has been going through a lot of the same things as me, by being open and talking candidly about how I have really been feeling. There is no good reason to go through something like this alone. Call your public mental health unit and ask to speak to someone there if you think that you might be suffering from PPD, or go and talk to your family doctor if you have one. There are so many avenues that you can go down for help. Just make sure you seek out help before you get out of control.

Sigh. Okay. Now I feel better. Venting is so good. Ahhhh.

So there you have it. I'm going to go and get ready for bed now, seeing as how it's 10:45pm and both my kids have been sleeping since 9-ish and the tiniest one is asleep in his crib (yay!). Sprout and Seedling, please know that you are my reason for living. Even though some days it seems like Mommy doesn't have a fraction of the patience I usually do, it is in no way a reflection on how much I love you. My beautiful Sprout - you have grown into such a little lady over the past few months - I barely recognize you with your long golden curls and your sassy 3 and 4 word full sentences. Your memory and cognition continue to astound me every single day, and I absolutely love to watch you dance and sing to your favourite songs (Dynamite, Tightrope, Umbrella, Sugar Sugar, Hey Baby, Oh My My, and Single Ladies). I can't wait to start dance class with you in September. And you, my sweet tiny Seedling...where do I even start? You are such a bright, beautiful little boy. I couldn't have dreamed of a more perfect little face, and when you smile, it lights up my heart more than I could have ever imagined when you were fighting to stay in my tummy. Both of you make me so proud to be your Mommy, and I can't wait to see what the next year will bring. I know that time goes by quicker than I always expect, and that every day, week, and month will bring exciting new things for all of us. I love you both with all of my heart. Thank you for giving me this time to vent - Mommy will be a little less crazy tomorrow now. Sleep well, tiny darlings.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Surprise! Well, not really...

A whole bunch of crazy things have happened over the past couple of months that I definitely need to spill about. In my last post, I recounted the tale of the beginning and middle of my bed rest prison and the events leading up to my being stuck on the couch. Today, I will fill you in on...well...everything else.

S is for SURPRISE!

So I continued to go into labour every 2 weeks while on bed rest for a full 7 weeks. The last time before the time was at 34 weeks 6 days, and I was having full-blown labour, including dilating to 4 cm and having regular, painful contractions. If you're following, this was the DAY after I last blogged. Ridiculous. I got shipped off again to a different hospital in Edmonton, and this time was sufficiently disgusted by both the unkempt room that I was given (the amount of sticky crud on the bathroom floor and in the shower was enough to make me gag), and the nurse who told me I was actually only 3 cm dilated after she stuck her fingers about an inch into my vag...I don't know where she took her training or what she was 'measuring', but it certainly wasn't my cervix. Those of you who are female and have had children or just a pap will understand what I mean when I say that you know when your cervix is being examined. Needless to say, the contractions dwindled and an extremely grouchy and frustrated mama got sent home. I got extremely tired of hearing "Oh, good! You know, every day is better for the baby!" There comes a point in time, people, when although extra time may be good for the fetus involved, those extra days are extremely detrimental to the mental, emotional, and physical health of the mother. So please, the next time you talk to someone who has gone through a similar situation, the correct thing to say would probably sound like "You must be going crazy with all of this going on. I hope that it's all over soon and you have a healthy baby to take home." Because once it gets to the point where the baby is big enough that he or she may not spend time in the NICU at all...when you've been dealing with PTL (pre-term labour) for 7 weeks...believe me - you're ready for it to be over.

That being said, I'm glad my little Seedling held on for as long as he did. I certainly wouldn't have been happy with him arriving back at the 29 week mark, or even at 31 weeks. Dealing with visiting a preemie in the NICU with my Sprout having to live with being bailed on by Mommy time and time again would have been much more difficult. Instead, we got to go home just over 24 hours after Seedling was born. When was that, you ask? Well, surprise, surprise...

Not really. On Friday, May 13th, when there were 4 planets aligned (which hadn't happened since 1910), exactly 8 weeks since the date of my first PTL from the stomach flu, I started feeling a little different. I had been having regular contractions for 3 days prior, and finally that evening decided that I should maybe have my husband take me in to have a non-stress test done to make sure my little guy was dealing with it all okay. When we got to the hospital and got put on the monitor, my contractions were erratic, but strong. They regulated shortly thereafter, and the nurse in assessment proceeded to check my cervix and tell me that I was between 4-5 cm dilated and that I would be getting admitted because I was in labour. For the first time with the whole PTL thing, I was actually shocked! I stayed around the same for contractions, etc overnight, and then in the morning, a new nurse came on shift. I don't know what it is, but I seem to attract really grouchy nurses during the days. I had awesome nurses on the night shift, but my daytime nurse that day (the 14th) was awful.

After putting me on the monitor and poking me with a couple fingers at the tail end of a contraction, she went and wrote "Patient is having mild contractions and doesn't seem to be bothered by them. Is texting through contractions." Okay. A matter of opinion, I suppose, but I don't think that pushing buttons on a cell phone while having to breathe during my contractions is really the same as 'talking' through a contraction. She then proceeded to come in and lecture me about how Braxton Hicks contractions could be really strong, and that since I wasn't dilating, I wasn't really in labour and would probably be sent home. I just about lost my mind and threw my cup of ice chips at her. Apparently going from 2-3 cm up to 4-5 cm doesn't count as dilating, so I wasn't in labour. Thank goodness the OB was competent, because she came in and proclaimed that I was already well over 5 cm and asked if I wanted to "get this party started" (aka break my water). I wish I could have taken a photo of the 'oh shit' look on the nurse's face when she walked into the room to find the OB poking at me with the giant crochet hook - again, if you've had kids, you probably know the tool I'm speaking of. I will never peel an orange or crochet ever in my lifetime without thinking about that thing.

My water was broken at just after 11:00am, and when the OB left the room, she laughed and said "I'll see you at 1:00pm for delivery...", to which I chuckled and said "Oh yeah, for sure!" Ahem. Before my labour got too crazy, I grabbed my toiletry bag and proceeded to do my makeup. Weird, I know, but I have pictures of myself after my first labour and delivery, and I was determined to look at least a little more human this time around. My contractions picked up just after 12:00pm, and I went from 6 cm to 8 cm in a matter of 4 contractions...and then things got super crazy after that. I don't remember much (I had a completely natural labour, no epi, no drugs, no gas, etc), but apparently I started pushing at 1:15pm at the start of one contraction...and delivered my son at 1:17pm at the end of that same contraction. Yeah, that's two minutes. No big deal or anything. I'm pretty proud of that one. Best part? No tearing, no stitches, no swelling. I used one ice pack, and took a couple ibuprofen for the cramping during breastfeeding, but that was it. Recovery after a super fast labour and delivery were nothing this time around. I thought it was easy with Sprout, but this was ridiculous! Plus, my beautiful little boy looked like a c-section baby - hardly any birth trauma, and a perfectly round little head!

The stupid nurse only pissed me off a couple times after that, which I didn't really care about, because I had my little man, and he was healthy and perfect, and I was filled with love. She did make some snarky comment to another nurse when filling out my chart about whether she should write down that the OB breaking my water was induction or augmentation, because I "technically wasn't in labour". She's lucky I was breastfeeding, that's all I have to say.

Seedling was born at 36 weeks 5 days, and was 6 lbs 13 oz, 18 1/4" long. He only had a couple issues with keeping his blood sugar levels up, but was otherwise totally fine and able to come home the next day. I'll blog more about it later, but we're dealing with some other health issues now (reflux...). Still, he is a healthy boy, and at 2 weeks 6 days old, he is already 8 lbs 11 oz. Boy am I glad he came early!

Sprout has transitioned so well - I am so incredibly proud of her. She loves her little brother to pieces, and is always asking to check on him, or kiss him, or hug him, or hold him...and lately, she keeps asking me to help - she wants little jobs to do, like pat his back when we're burping him, or handing me a diaper or wipes during a change. She has also gotten to the point of being almost potty trained - most days we catch almost all the pees, and all of the poops! I fit her entire head of hair into a ponytail yesterday and just about cried. I'm glad I've got my Seedling now, because my Sprout is growing into a beautiful little toddler, with so much personality. She's putting together 3 and 4-word sentences, which is unbelievable, and her comprehension still blows my mind every day. My favourite new trick of hers? She's obsessed with the movie "Happy Feet", and does her Mumble dance impression around the house while yelling "Tap dance, Mommy!" Needless to say, we've got her enrolled in a dance class for the fall.

I feel so incredibly blessed to have such a beautiful, healthy family. I don't know what I ever did to get this lucky, but I am certainly grateful for everything in my life right now. I couldn't be more proud of you, my not-so-little Sprout, or more in love with you and our tiny Seedling. I feel more complete now than I ever have in my life before. It's true what they say - you have a hard time picturing what it will be like to have a second child before they arrive. I know I wondered if I would love this baby the same, or how I could possibly have enough love to go around. The answer? Absolutely. Life has changed for the better, in every way. Sure, it's challenging having an 18 month old, stubborn little princess, and a fussy, refluxy, noisy little man, but so far I am enjoying even the rough days, at the end of it all. I can sit back at the end of every day and be proud of where I am and how far I have come and grown as a parent and as an individual, and be just as proud of my children and my husband. Love is all around.

Sprout and Seedling, I love you both more than I could ever express - especially when I am grouchy and sleep-deprived (let's work on that, shall we?). Thank you for choosing me as your Mommy, and for being exactly who you are. I will never try to change you, and I hope that I do a decent job in your eyes of bringing you up in this world of mass chaos. All I do, every day, is for you both. I love you.

Good night, sleep tight.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Revelations.

The title of this blog has absolutely nothing to do with anything Biblical, although the book of Revelations is probably the most disturbing and unnerving portion of the Bible, in my opinion. No, my own revelations have come to me over the past six weeks that I have spent laying on the couch or in my bed, only being allowed getting up to walk the short jaunt to the bathroom. That's right, folks. I ended up on complete bed rest this pregnancy. This blog is brought to you by the letter 'R', which in this case stands for...

Rest and Regression

I'll get to the regression part later. First of all, I need to rewind back six weeks and fill you all in on exactly what happened. It was a Friday morning, and Sprout had finally started perking back up after a trip to the Stollery following a wicked bout of gastroenteritis (stomach bug). I woke up feeling a little strange, and then began vomiting myself by around 8:30am. I didn't start feeling terrible until around 2:00pm, and then it really hit hard. By 6:00pm, I noticed that not only did I have anything to throw up anymore (especially when it was happening every 15 minutes), but I was also having contractions. Lots of them. About 6-8 per hour. I called the hospital and was informed that I needed to get there ASAP. My mom came out and brought me to the hospital, while my husband stayed here with our still-recovering Sprout to wait for any news.

The hospital trip was fairly uneventful - I was pumped full of IV fluids (a 3-bag bolus) immediately, given a medication called Indocid to try and slow my contractions, injected with Zofran (the miracle anti-nausea drug), and checked for cervical dilation. Seedling's heart rate was jumping up over 185bpm and then decelerating to around 75-80bpm during and between contractions, and my own resting rate was over 12o. I had dilated to 2 cm, lost my mucous plug, and the contractions were steady at every 2-3 minutes apart. It was soon decided that I needed to be at a hospital that could facilitate delivery at 29 weeks, should my body not decide to cooperate and kick Seedling out early.

I was taken by ambulance to the RAH, where they have a full NICU and neonatologists there all the time, and admitted into their labour and delivery unit. Luckily, something kicked in, and my labour started to slow down, followed by my heart rate lowering, and Seedling looking a little more cozy and less freaked out by what was going on. I was transferred to the antenatal unit, and taken for an ultrasound the following day to make sure everything was still okay with Seedling. Side comment about the new Lois Hole Hospital for Women at the RAH - unbelievably beautiful building. The unit where I had my ultrasound done was gorgeous, and I got to watch the entire ultrasound on a 46" flat screen TV mounted up on the wall across from where I had to lay. So awesome. It was at that ultrasound that I found out my cervix, which should have been at least 3-4cm long at that point, had shortened to 1.8cm following the stress of labour. What does that mean, you ask? Cervical shortening is one of the leading causes of preterm labour and preterm rupture of membranes (water breaking). So...I was put on complete bed rest. I spent 5 days in total at the hospital still contracting fairly regularly with a very irritated uterus before I was finally released and able to come home.

I'm not going to whine about the terms of my bed rest, but I will give a quick update. When I left the RAH, the OB I saw there predicted that I wouldn't make it to 34 weeks before delivering this baby. As of today, I am 34 weeks and 5 days. They will not stop my labour anymore (I've had to go in twice since I was released to have them stop contractions), and the baby is over 5lbs according to ultrasound measurements, which is a very decent size. Larger than average, actually. I am officially off bed rest in 3 days - SO EXCITING! The most difficult thing about bed rest has been watching Sprout regress in so many ways, and trying to 'fix' all of the problems that she seemed to develop in those 5 days I spent away from her in the hospital. That, I will talk about.

Sigh. Do you know what it feels like to have to sit back and watch someone else try to take care of your child, while you're in the room and can't really do anything to help? Or to have your normally sweet, cooperative little girl suddenly decide that if Mommy isn't changing her diaper, putting her to bed, feeding her, taking her to the potty, or playing with her, she's just going to scream, refuse to eat, refuse to nap or sleep at night, and start acting out for attention? I have to say that I felt completely torn in half already by my two children. On one hand, I had to stay on the couch for the safety of Seedling, who still needed more time to develop and grow inside of me, but on the other hand, I was sacrificing everything that Sprout knew to be normal, and she definitely noticed. Heartbreaking to hear your daughter screaming 'NO! Mommy!!' when someone else takes her to bed. I spent a lot of nights awake crying because I felt like I had completely failed and let both of my kids down. How could my body betray me (and them) like that?! Just because of a stupid stomach virus.

After six weeks of 'rehabilitation' and adjustment, we are finally back to eating normally, sleeping well (in her toddler bed, no less!), less tantrums, and a generally happy little girl, who talks and acts like she is 2 and a half, instead of 1 and a half! Her vocabulary astounds me - and it's not only the words she knows, because she is a parrot and will repeat anything - it's the comprehension and the retention. She got a pretend doctor kit from my mom the other day, and I only had to tell her the names of the 'tools' and what they were for ONCE. Then, she proceeded to tell all her animals to 'say AAAHHH' so she could look in their mouths, listened to their hearts and told me they sounded like 'boom boom boom', checked their temperatures under their arms (some had a 'fever', some didn't), and gave them 'medicine' from the syringe. Unbelievable. Not saying my kid is a super genius or anything, she just blows me away every day, and it was so hard seeing her so very unhappy and not herself. She can now tell you what sounds the letters A, B, C, D, H, L, M, N, O, P, R, S, and Y make (she figured that last one out herself...somehow), and a word that goes with each letter; she knows and will point out red, blue, purple, yellow, orange, green, pink, black, and white (if she's not too preoccupied), and she can almost count to 10 steadily. She likes to start with 'One, two....one, two...five...seven...nine...ten!' but if she really focuses, she knows the rest of them as well, in order. At this age, she really is a little sponge. She seems to fully retain every last tidbit of information I give her about anything, and loves to ask questions and wants to know more all the time. At this rate, she will be just like my smart little niece, who is currently completing kindergarten...but working on grade one material and reading at a level even above that!

I am so proud of her, and can't wait for everything to come in the next weeks. Every morning, she says 'hello' to her baby sibling, and gives my belly a snuggle, a pat, and a kiss. She loves to feel him/her move, and listen to the heartbeat if I take out my doppler, or the antenatal nurses are here to run a non-stress test (tomorrow is their last visit, but they've been seeing me at home for the past 5 weeks). Her most frequently asked question about the baby is if he/she can come 'out', but she always follows it up by saying 'No...too small...', which I told her when I came home from the hospital.

Life is going to change in so many ways, Sprout. Mommy can take you to the park next week, and pick you up for snuggles (finally!), and hopefully be able to spend some quality time with you before Seedling arrives. And when he/she does decide to make an appearance, it is going to be such a wonderful thing to see you as a proud big sister, which I already know you will be. I love you with all of my heart, and I hope you know how much it has been absolutely killing me to watch all the wonderful things you've been doing and not be able to be right there with you on the floor, playing and helping you learn. You are such a big girl, and I can't express how proud I am of you.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Questioning.

I find myself often stressing about things that really shouldn't matter, in the grand scheme of life. I think we all do it - we discover that something is out of place or not happening as it should, and we freak out. Why do we do it? Does it really matter if the laundry is piled in baskets on my bedroom floor instead of put away in my closet and dresser? I had a bit of an epiphany today about my house and its lack of tidiness. Not that I am not a clean person - my house is always clean (especially my floors - I do have a toddler and a dog) - but there always seems to be clutter around and odds and ends that never seem to be finished (ie. Laundry, dishes, mail sitting around, etc.)

Life is too short to constantly spend all of my 'spare time' cleaning. If my house was completely spotless all the time, it would be because I never took any time out for myself during the day. Maybe I take too much time - there were a few weeks where supper (not for Sprout, she always gets fed healthy and nutritious, yummy meals) was...lacking. I'm not going to lie, a few boxes of KD and cans of Alpha Ghetti were greedily devoured by my dear husband and I. Not the healthiest thing when I'm pregnant, I know. I usually take time during my day to ensure that I at least snack healthily (apples, peppers, cucumber, oranges) and take my vitamins.

All that chatter brings me to the letter 'Q'.

'Q' is for Questioning

So I'm questioning my constant need to be stressed out about what people are going to think if my house is a little cluttered and the dishes aren't done. Sure, it's a lot more functional when it's clean, but I honestly don't really notice it when it's not. Again, I'm not talking about keeping the counters, floors, toilets, sinks, etc. clean. I'm talking about the fact that my bookshelf has been taken over by a shelf of diapering supplies, another shelf of photo boxes in front of books, another shelf with random 'stuff' on it...sigh. I'm tired of looking at it and thinking I should do something about it, so I've finally decided to give in to what I know - I'm not an organized person. Clutter is a part of my life, and a part of my home.

Part of me feels guilty, because I should be setting an example for Sprout as she gets older, but maybe it will prompt her to want that kind of organization in her life. My mother and sister are both crazy cleaners. Everything has to have its place, everything has to be put away, everything has to be cleaned. All the time. Now, I'm not saying that's a bad thing, it's just...not me. My husband and I are a bad combination, because he grew up in a super cluttered house - and not even just clutter...things got...well...a little bit hoarded. It's gotten better even in the last 6-7 years that I've been around to witness things changing, but I know that he grew up with having to do the basics: laundry, dishes, bathrooms, kitchen. Just the things that needed to be done to make the house clean, not necessarily looking spotless and organized. My MIL has a sign in her house that says "My house is clean enough to be healthy, and dirty enough to feel lived in." I love it.

Do I ever worry about Sprout eating something she has dropped on my floor? Absolutely not. The dog's paws get wiped when she comes in the house, and I am constantly battling my hairball/dust bunnies with the Norwex mop and the Dustbuster (have I mentioned how much I LOVE my Dustbuster? Couldn't live without it.) so my floors are fairly germ and dust-free. Stress isn't anyone's friend, and I find that when I start to stress about things that really don't matter, it affects everything: my relationship with my husband, my patience with Sprout, my ability to kick back and enjoy this pregnancy and life in general.

I'm raising a glass today to all the moms with cluttered houses who can honestly just give in to the fact that their homes will probably always be cluttered. A toast (of sparkling cider) to all of you who can join me in taking an afternoon break to read a book, eat a bowl of ice cream, write in a journal, or watch a movie or daytime TV show - anything that you can do to just enjoy life and the small things that contribute to our overall happiness. I feel like a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders, and I actually feel a little more motivated to make something better for supper (last night was actually really tasty...and healthy...except for all the garlic and butter!)

Enjoy your nap, Sprout. Mommy is kicking her swollen feet up on the couch to eat some ice cream and bond with Seedling, who is happily turning somersaults this afternoon. I'm sorry if I am a poor role model for you for tidiness, but I hope that you will learn something else from me: sometimes you just need to relax and enjoy life. We all spend so many years working our asses off both at work and at home, and stress about everything in our lives. For what? That's the question I'm asking you today. I love you with all of my heart, Sprout, and even the time that I'm taking out for myself is really for you, so that I can focus my energy on being a better, more relaxed, more patient Mommy. Sweet dreams.

xoxoxo

Mommy

Par-tay!

Sprout at 12 months

Sprout at one day old!

Yummy birthday cupcake!

Beautiful Owl Cake

Daddy & Sprout in her birthday girl outfit

We've come to the letter 'P' finally, and after an agonizing 2 months of trying to blog my way here, I can finally write about Sprout's first birthday party! Birthdays are so bittersweet now, after watching my first child have her first special day. You're so proud of all of their achievements and accomplishments in their first year, but it's one of those double-sided things. You want them to keep learning and changing and growing, but you want to hit the pause button for a while and just stay with them in this adorable phase of cuddly, stumbling, talking cuteness.

Owls have always been a huge part of Sprout's first year. Her nursery is decorated in an Enchanted Forest (check out www.lambsivy.com for the bedding and nursery set) theme, and from the first day we brought her home, we took a picture each month with her stuffed owl that belongs to the nursery set to mark her growth. So it wasn't a huge surprise that we decided on a pink and brown owl-themed party. A wonderful friend of my mom's from work made the most beautiful cake for Sprout, and I made cupcakes with pink and cream frosting with little owl cutouts on toothpicks stuck in the top. She wore an owl sweater, black leggings, and a pink pettiskirt. The only downsides to the day? The weather was awful, and both Sprout and I had come down with a horrible cold. She woke up in the morning and laid on my chest on the couch and cried for the first 20 minutes. Thank goodness she is a resilient little thing - cake, treats, and presents really perked her up!

I was extremely proud of the fact that I did NOT cry at her party. I did cry on her actual birthday, and I definitely had a good cry afterwards. The first year goes by so quickly, and the fact that she has a brother or sister coming along in only 4-5 months just makes it even more meaningful. I wanted to hold on to the baby phase for as long as I could, but she just flew right past! She was a spoiled, but very well-behaved little owl at her party, and I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful turnout of close friends and family. So nice to be able to celebrate with so many people. The only thing that she didn't cooperate with (which we had practiced for weeks beforehand, and which she asks to do with my house candles EVERY day now) was to blow out her first birthday candle, which I stuck in the top of her cupcake. She just stared at me like "what do you expect me to do with THAT?" I think she was confused, because she knew it was supposed to be a treat, but I was asking her to do something weird with a cupcake. Why would you have to blow on a cupcake?

Anyways, so another two months has passed, and Sprout is almost fully walking (I don't know if she'll ever toughen up and stop being such a chicken. She'll walk to me, and if I keep backing up, she will walk around the whole house! Little turkey.), and says well over 50 words on a regular basis now. She came up to me yesterday with the manger from the Little People nativity scene and the angel, and said "House. This (points to angel). On. Pleeeeeease." She blows my mind. The manger has a little peg on top where the angel sits, and then when you push it down, it lights up the star and sings "Silent Night". The fact that she can already structure that kind of sequence of words and express what she would like me to do (WITH manners) absolutely blows me away. I think my favourite new development (other than saying please and thank-you without always being prompted) has to either be her naming all of her colours, or the fact that she says 'love' now and gives herself a hug when you tell her to say 'love you'. And then blows a kiss. I am so thankful that I get to spend every day with her at home, watching her constantly learn and grow. I can't wait for the next stage of our family life, when this new little Seedling joins us and Sprout, and our lives change yet again.

I hear you talking to Iggy and Monster up in your crib...I suppose naptime is over, even though it hasn't been 2 hours...

Can't wait to throw your next party, Sprout. I'm already in the planning stages!

xoxoxo

Mommy

Oh...

It's been a long time again between blogs, and although I do have a few excuses (pregnancy, flu, baby measles), I still feel guilty. I should be making more time to do the things that I enjoy before I am completely bombarded with a newborn and a barely-toddler!

I'm stuck at home on a Saturday night with a sinus infection (thank you, flu) by myself (my husband is having a drunken slumber party with my brother-in-law and my cousin-in-law), and can't think of anything to do OR write. This brings me to the letter 'O'. What the heck starts with that letter? I can think of some particularly inappropriate ones, which would probably be deemed appropriate seeing as how my blog has 'uncensored' in the title. Ah, well. Maybe...this...

'O' is for 'Olfactory'

Yep. Another one of those nerdy medical words I picked up in school. Do you want to know what's weird? Not being able to smell or taste ANYTHING for days on end. I could literally be eating a piece of dog shit and not know the difference if I was blindfolded. It could be a brownie. Yuck. Even thinking about that makes me want to barf. Pregnancy is supposed to make your sense of smell extremely heightened, which it absolutely was before I got sick. Now, I can eat things I normally don't enjoy (but are good for me...), but who knows how long it is going to last.

One good thing about not being able to smell? Poopy diapers!! They don't normally bother me much, but sometimes...phew! It has been great to be able to change them without making a face or having to hold my breath. That's about the only good thing though. No sleep, not being able to eat properly because I have to chew with my mouth open...those are all things that make me look and feel REALLY classy.

Okay, so this blog officially sucks. I will try to blog more often in 2011, but with the way things have been lately, I think it will be on hiatus again for a little while. I'll think of something clever to write for the letter 'P'. I PROMISE. (Tee hee.)

Sorry, Sprout, Mommy's losing her touch. Maybe it's that sibling of yours eating my brain cells, or all the snot in my sinuses, but either way, I'm feeling a bit moronic myself lately. Time to make some popcorn and enjoy my solo Saturday night pity party. See you in the morning, Sprout.

xoxoxo

Mommy