the smartmouth mombie - Weblog Archives

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December 19, 2004

This is my friend Rick's birthday. I wish I could beam myself out west for a visit. I miss you, Rick, I hope you are having an amazing day.

I keep meaning to update here but the little guy seems to have a sixth sense that lets him know when my attention wavers from him. So I'm having trouble finishing meals, taking relaxing baths or getting writing done. But hey, he's only 4 weeks old, so we have time to work these things out.

Right now I'm typing this while he 'sits' on the edge of my desk between me and the keyboard resting his head on my chest. I guess he likes being so close to his food at all times. Perhaps I should start sleeping in the kitchen cupboards, save myself time during late night snack trips.

I thought I should really clarify something. I mentioned in early November that I was afraid of having another premie but then, when I did I didn't make much of it. You see, the thing is, when I had The Boy he was so premature that he had to stay in the NICU for two weeks and I stayed in the hospital for a week, and then spent the next week running back and forth between the hospital and home so I could nurse him. I didn't want to repeat that experience, and make life really difficult for The Boy as he tried to adjust to a new baby brother, Mommy being gone all the time etc etc etc. Luckily, Little Guy arrived at 35 weeks so he could home with me. It wasn't the prematurity I was dreading it was the feeling torn between my first born and my newborn. I still have that to a degree, of course, but it is not as drastic as it would have been had I had to spend a lot of time in the NICU.

I have a lot of things I should write about but I figure Little Guy will start wigging out once I'm halfway through. So I'll just make a list and get back to the topics later.

1) Crazy lactation consultants and why they should learn to listen.
2) The Boy's reaction to Little Guy.
3) My goals for next year

December 10, 2004

I am really tired. Really , really tired. Not tired like 'haven't slept more than three hours in two and a half years' but tired nonetheless. I had forgotten how physically exhausting looking after a newborn can be.

November 29, 2004

So here's how it all went down: Tuesday the 16th, I saw my obstetrician and she informed me that a) there was no reason I wouldn't go to term and b) Jack was over 6lbs. Wednesday the 17th I had my 34 week ultrasound (v. cool, could actually see what the baby looks like) and I had Dan's b-day party here in the evening. I had to visit the case room on the 18th because of stealth contractions that would hit me out of nowhere and leave me clinging to a wall for support while I tried to breathe through them. The news from the case room : weirdo contractions suck but all is well. Again , a problem for me not so much a problem for the baby.

Friday the 19th, I wrote my Mother Shock article for Deborah at Chicklit and then generally lazed around hoping I would feel better soon. I also nursed a massive case of guilt for not managing to have enough energy to visit my friend Krista on her birthday. Saturday I taught my drama class and co-ordinated a murder mystery dinner theatre. Sunday I woke up feeling super-awful. I spent all morning in non-specific misery, trying to sleep, having weird dreams, wondering if I was going to have to put myself on bed rest if my obstetrician wouldn't do it.

1pm on Sunday I started having contractions 10 minutes apart. By 7 pm on Sunday they were 7 minutes apart. Feeling like the dame who cried wolf I headed to the case room again. Apparently I was in 'latent' labour but not active labour so they sent me home at 11pm and told me to take Tylenol. TYLENOL! For contractions. I was having real, actual early labour strength contractions and they advised TYLENOL! I had horrible imaginings of 5 weeks of 10 minute apart contractions and trying to fight them with headache meds.

I was up all night. By 5am I woke The Man and told him not to count on going to work today because I was either having the baby or we were camping out in the case room until they gave me something so I could sleep. The contractions were 6 minutes apart for 3 hours and my water broke around 7am. At 8:20am we headed for the case room again, by the time we got there the contractions were 4 minutes apart. Apparently I had 'that look' because the nurses had sent someone in from admitting before the doctors had had a chance to examine me.

I moved to a birthing room, I breathed through contractions until they got to the point where they were so full-body and painful that I couldn't think clearly enough to breathe through them anymore. I had a lovely Demerol/Gravol cocktail, with a nitrous oxide chaser, made it through the last part of stage one labour, through transition, pushed flike I had been training for it (where did that energy and determination come from? I don't know but for that hour or so I felt like a conditioned athlete) and Jack arrived at 2:22pm on the 22nd.

Apparently I just don't DO the last month of pregnancy. And you know what? I'm fine with that.

It turns out that a 'natural' birth is much easier on the brain and the body than a c-section is. And so far the transition from one kid to two is a lot easier that the transition from no kids to one.

More later.

Mark - Happy Birthday on the 26th. I hope it rocked. Oh, and welcome to the dark side!

October 17, 2004

So I've been spending a lot of time working on Phil's film lately and it's been taking me away from my other projects. Don't get me wrong, it's not like Phil is expecting me to make the sacrifice and no one has forced me to do this stuff but since I'm not feeling very inclined to write these days when something that feels urgent comes along, it's easy to shelve my writing and sweep myself up in it. This, of course, is facilitated by the fact that the film has become a Hydra and every time we cut off one of its heads two more grow in its place. But we are determined to win this battle, perhaps once my charioteer figures out how to cauterize the neck (s) of the beast, the battle will turn in our favour.

I'm 30 weeks into my pregnancy now, and I'm really hoping to go the distance. The Boy was born at 33 weeks, so if this baby follows his example I only have three weeks left to go. But seeing as I don't have any complications and nothing specific caused The Boy to be premature, I may have up to 10 weeks left to go (that's right folks, only 10 weeks until Christmas!). What I'm really hoping for is another 7 or 8 weeks, so I have lots of time to get organized for a new baby and to prepare for Christmas but I don't have to worry about being in hospital for Christmas itself. That would be yucky.

Well, they are filming right now so I cannot use the film to distract me any further, I should go and do some work on an essay.

October 6, 2004

If you are trying to think of fun things to do, DON'T try having a cold while toddler wrangling while you are seven months pregnant. It's not the sort of party that it sounds like. In fact, it's not really all that fun at all.

I had another obstetrician's appointment yesterday and all is well, except that Jack is wrong way up. Now I know that baby direction isn't really a concern at this point but dammit I just have this feeling that I going to have a re-run of last time, with a breech baby and a c-section. And if I'm going to have a c-section I'd just as soon schedule it now rather than have it happen at the last minute.

I'm trying to decide whether to bother to do a prenatal class. The Boy was born two weeks before our scheduled class last time so I didn't get to tour the hospital or anything before he arrived. And now I feel a little dumb doing a class. I mean, I trust that my body knows what it's doing and I've read lots of stuff about labour so I know how to breathe and all. The things that make me inclined to take a class are things like the tour of the maternity ward, finding out what I'm allowed to bring with me and learning what sort of procedures the hospital has for a normal (non-c-section) delivery. Of course, I might get all that from just taking a hospital tour and not have to take a class.

I think the problem is two-fold - a) I'm lazy and b) I feel like my time is so short right now that I don't want any more of my week taken up with planned activities. I know that the second thing is more perception than reality but it's hard not to feel rushed and crowded by all the things I HAVE to do let alone by adding in new things that I'm not inclined to do. And I'd have the hassle of trying to find a babysitter one night a week. Bleh. Well, I'll let it sit for a few days and then decide.

I talked to the obstetrician about my mental/physical fatigue issue and she told me to take it easy and not be so hard on myself. Essentially, at this point in my pregnancy, I don't need to distinguish between the two and if I don't feel up to exercising for any reason I shouldn't worry about it.

This is all rather ironic, considering that my article advocating prenatal exercise was in the paper on Monday. But hey, I never did say that everyday was going to be a prime exercise day.

And I think that some of my fatigue of late had to do with the cold I came down with on the weekend, so I may get past this yet. The obstetric nurse told me yesterday that my fatigue may also be related to the time of day I was choosing to exercise (i.e. the morning) and today I took The Boy outside in the late afternoon which was v. refreshing and then I did some exercise after supper which also felt good and not the least overwhelming. Perhaps, I just need to shift my schedule a little.

Now that I have my readers all good and bored, I'll sign off - I have an essay I want to edit.

October 2, 2004

I'm really enjoying my new design, even though so far I've had to go through evry single linked page three times and change colours and whatnot. I need to make another run-through and even some stuff up but my brain won't take it right now, so maybe I'll give it a week or so.

I had drama class today and the kids were absolutely crazy! I don't know what gets into them sometimes but I feel like I spent more time getting them to calm down than I did actually teaching drama today. Thank heavens for Chantelle who helped me stay calm just by being there as a witness to the crazy. I think we're going to have fun working together and she is such an amazing actor that she's a great example for the kids.

I'm working on an essay to submit to an anthology that Andi from Mothershock is putting together, called It's a Boy! . My essay is going to be about the profound weirdness that I experience when I discovered that the baby I was carrying was The Boy. Most of the ideas in the new essay are related to the ideas in this essay that I posted here a few months ago. I really hope it gets accepted, not only for the thrill of being published in a motherhood anthology but because that would mean that Andi liked something I wrote. I've read a lot of her essays in her book Mother Shock and I can't wait to order a copy for myself. I wish it had been on the market when I first had The Boy because her fears and concerns are very similar to mine and that would have been a comfort.

September 30, 2004

This pregnancy is kicking my ass.

If there is one thing that drives me crazy, it is not having information that I need and that I could have and my body is witholding information from me on a regular basis these days.

I don't like it, not one little bit.

Before you start thinking I'm crazy (too late, I know), the problem is that I never know what I'm going to be able to do from minute to minute. I can't tell if going swimming with The Boy in the morning is going to knock me out for the day or if it will be just one fun thing in a day chockablock with activities. And I can't tell if my malaise at any given time means that I shouldn't exercise or that I'm just feeling lazy. I know that pregnancy is a day by day thing but this is getting ridiculous. I don't want to let myself away with laziness, but I also don't want to push myself too hard either. And I honestly can't tell if my tiredness is mental or physical.

My theory on The Boy's prematurity is that it was the result of the cumulative effect of work stress, new house stress and contractor-working-on-new-house stress, plus the physical stress of moving (I didn't lift that much but I still gave myself a workout). I'm not blaming myself for his prematurity, perhaps it would have happened anyway, but I don't think the rest of that crap helped any.

So in the event that my body has an inclination to keep pregnancies short, I've been trying to keep my stress low and my body in good shape in order to maximize my chances of carrying to term. But that's a real challenge when I can't tell whether me end of day fatigue is normal, or if it is a result of overdoing it. And if it is a result of overdoing it, did I overdo it mentally or physically?

September 29, 2004

So yeah, that whole posting to blogger thing? Now that I've developed a portfolio type page (see the clips and the like link at left - that' s a work in progress so there's not much there yet, though) I don't need to worry so much about how this page comes across.

But I did decide to revamp it a little. I liked the bulletin board style but I could never get it the way I wanted it . So until I have time to develop further design skills I decided to simplify the layout of the site. Like this.

Now I just need to go through all the linked pages and make them look like this. No problem. GAH.

September 23, 2004

You wanna know what's a challenge? Doing yoga with a (almost) three year old.

As if it isn't difficult enough trying to do yoga poses and accommodate my almost 7 months pregnant belly, I get my balance further compromised by The Boy's insistence that I am a doghouse, or a fishbowl or whatever my current pose suggests to him. It's hilarious and frustrating at the same time. I fail to understand why they can't produce some sort of prenatal fitness video with a picture in picture of Franklin or Little Bear or something. Or perhaps have a Pregnant Mommy and Me exercise video. That wouldn't be that hard would it?

Of course the upside of doing yoga with a toddler is that he has learned some of the poses and does those along with me. I'm not sure why it's so cute to have him practice downward facing dog pose but it is, and I'll take it.

September 19, 2004

So I was checking on The Telegram website tonight to see how other writers make use of their source's quotes and I came across a story about a grandmother who is mourning her grandson. And now I can't shake it.

I don't want to get into specifics here, but basically the child's mother was accused of murdering his father and she drowned herself and her child rather than face extradition. Or at least that's what seems to have happened.

I can't understand this.

I can't understand how any parent would think their child better off dead than alive, how they could willingly cause their child pain, willing cause them to suffer. It's one thing to take your own life but to take your child with you?

Obviously we are talking either extreme selfishness or an extremely warped view of the world, a mental illness. I'm going to assume the latter which makes me very sad rather than very angry.

I just can't imagine how you could have no hope for your child, no hope that things might turn out okay. I mean, I'm not naive, I know that some mental illnesses will do that to you and I know, on a separate level, that there are some situations so incredibly desperate that perhaps killing yourself and your child would be the only logical route. I mean I know those things intellectually, abstractly, but I can't identify emotionally at all. I guess that makes me lucky.

I just know that I can't bear to think of my son needing me and me not being there for him and I can't bear to think of losing the trust he has in me by deliberately causing him pain. I can't even think about the bewilderment that poor child must have felt as his mother was carrying him into the water. I hope he was too young to understand, and too young to feel betrayed. I hope he thought they were swimming and then that everything happened quickly. I hope he is in a good place now, perhaps reunited with his Dad. I hope someone, somewhere is taking care of him and pretecting him like he trusted his mother to do.

I think I'm going to go hug my kid, thank the powers that be for my mental health and my support systerm, and then maybe have a little cry.

September 13, 2004

This is my most writerly day EVER!

My first published article is online at Natural Family Online. You can see it at www.naturalfamilyonline.com/4-edu/49-school-drama-club.htm

And I received an email this morning from an editor at The Telegram accepting my proposed article on Prenatal Fitness! Now I just have to write the damn thing.

WHOOT!

September 11, 2004

So I find myself at a loss on September 11th. I feel like I should mark the day in some way, yet I don't know what is appropriate for someone who was not directly affected by the events of that day to do. Obviously, September 11 is not about me so doing anything too elaborate would make a mockery of the real pain so many people must still be experiencing. So today, I mostly went about life as usual but my mind kept wandering to those people for whom today must be very painful.

I remember spending September 11, 2001 fielding calls at work, trying to load up news sites, listening to CBC, trying to find out what was going on. I eventually loaded up the (now-defunct) Hissyfit Boards and got my news from there. There was one good thread of news and condolences and one thread full of morons who wanted to talk about how the US brought the situation on itself. The second thread had to be started because the morons were cluttering up the thread of care and concern with shoot from the hip explanations that ignored the fact that average people, not policy makers, had lost their lives. It was unbelievable.

Sure, you may disagree with US foreign policies but there is a time and a place for objective debate, and a thread full of anxious posters trying to make sure that everyone had the latest news, and that the New York posters and their relatives were okay, is not it. Wading into an emotional situation like that with debate techniques is not wise and is going to make you look like a heartless ass. Someone who can't find their husband during a terrorist attack is not going to be open to a discussion about the ramifications of US foreign policy.

I went home and watched the same footage of the towers falling over and over again, and I ached for those who were watching in New York, knowing that relatives and friends might be inside. I was six months pregnant and I kept talking to myself wondering what kind of world I was bringing a child into and I felt bad because I was powerless to help. Then I felt bad for feeling bad because this situation was not about me, it was about the victims and their families.

So three years later, I'm six months pregnant again, thinking about that day, feeling for the families of the victims. The only real thing I did in commemoration was to send an email to Sarah at tomatonation, the only New Yorker I know - and I don't really know her, except through her site. On September 11, 2001, she was the first person I thought of, I thanked the powers that be that she was in Toronto not New York only to discover that she had returned home in time to be there as the whole thing unfolded.

Like on November 11, I feel a need to commemorate this day in some way but I don't know what to do so in lieu of action I'll say a prayer to the powers that be in honour of the victims and their families, and I'll hope that some of the anger in the world can be calmed by words instead of in vengeful, wasteful, horrible action.

But seeing what went down in Russia lately, I don't hold out a lot of hope.

September 6, 2004

First things first, I put the wrong link in my last entry, my new essay is here not in the link that I had there last week. Mea Culpa.

So The Boy has a cold, and the worst thing is that the cold is following on a two day fever, so no one in this house has had any sleep since early last week. It's hard going. The Boy is whiny, I'm clumsy and confused and The Man - well, he's actually pretty normal, just tired. Sick kid is no fun, you want to be patient because he's sick but realistically there is so much whining you can listen to before you need to stomp off to a quiet place and curse a little.

Anyway, that's all I've got energy for today.

Janet (and Julie) : Happy Birthday!

Ange and Phil: Good Luck with the apartment!

Danielle and Darryl: Good Luck with the house.