Wive’s Tales and Folklore, Let’s Have a Baby!

In an effort to have this baby before my Doctor goes on vacation August 1st, I am willing to take any and all advice about inducing labor.  Here is what I have been able to glean from the Internet.

Eat: Lobster, Spicy foods, Pinapple, Pizza from Geraci’s (local Italian Restaurant)

Drink: Castor Oil and Orange Juice (YUCK)

Do: Sex, Nipple Stimulation, Acupuncture, stepping up and down off of a curb, walking up and down stairs.

What have you heard? What worked for you?

Happy Feet!

I was going to call this post, “Pedicure II: Electric Bugaloo” but decided against it.  (Read about my White Trash Pedicure here!)

Thanks to my friend Megan, I had the best pedicure of my life at Ladies & Gentlemen Spa and Salon at Legacy Village in Lyndhurst, OH.  Thanks also to my pedicurist Amy who did a great job of making me feel relaxed.  I have no clever and/or snarky comments to make.  This pedicure was well worth the price ($64) and a definite must for any pregnant woman who can no longer see, let alone take care of her feet.

Thanks Meggy!

My Thrice Rejected Article About My Second Pregnancy

Below is an article that I submitted to Plum Magazine, Babble and Literary Mama.  All three rejected it   So I shall post it here for your enjoyment and wonder! It was written at the beginning of my second trimester.

Why I Don’t Like to Tell People I’m Pregnant…Again.

When I was pregnant with my first child, everything was so magical. Every single day there was a new milestone to celebrate. I would pour over information in magazines and on the internet about the growth of my baby and my changing body. I wrote in a journal daily to the small bean-sized fetus in my womb. I joined mothers-to-be online chat groups. I spent hours shopping for maternity clothes, baby toys, and accessories. My husband and I made sure that every cute little detail in the nursery was just right. We didn’t want to know the sex of the baby, because it was such a miracle. My joy and ignorance kept me in that “glow” that is so often talked about. I had no idea that there would be any negative side effects of the pregnancy or of the post-natal experience. Sure, the baby would hurt when it came out, but after three or four hours of natural child birth, my midwife would lovingly place the tiny babe to my breast, and he would immediately begin to suckle. Thus my perfect life as a perfect mother would begin perfectly.

Fast forward seven years to my current pregnancy; I have put off maternity clothes until the absolute last minute in the hopes that people think I’m merely getting fat and therefore do not begin defining me by my pregnancy. The journal I tried to start for the newcomer only has three entries. I refuse to get on any chat group that includes expecting women who think it’s cute to put pictures of angels and flowers in their posts or who type on and on about how much they love their husbands (which basically eliminates them all). I have a shirt that states in big letters “I ♥ Epidurals” even though I haven’t worn it yet. And most importantly, my husband and I have made the decision to find out the sex of the baby in order to plan accordingly.

What I did not know, and what nobody talks about when you are pregnant with your first child, is that the first month of being a new mom sucks, and the first year of being a mom can be the hardest of your life. They don’t tell you about just how utterly exhausted you will be or how gross your body becomes. They don’t tell you that you will feel absolutely void of energy or beauty. You will cry a lot, and worry more. You will feel like you live outside of your body. Then as the months go on, you will either snap out of it, or you will be like me and feel less and less like the old you and more and more like the kind of person you never ever wanted to become.

It took me nearly three years and a move to our old stomping grounds to feel like myself again. I had to lose 40 pounds, get new friends, go back to work and rediscover who I was before I was truly happy again. Finally, I feel like super mom and super woman. Why would I want to spoil that?

I remember a couple of years ago when a friend of mine was trying to decide whether or not to have a second child. She had just turned 35 and her daughter, Amy had just turned five. She said to me one day while we were pushing our adorable only children on the swings that she thought she should just get it over with and have another one. I couldn’t believe my ears! Get it over with? Is that really a “good” reason to have a baby? I remember ripping her to shreds behind closed doors with my husband. How could anyone say or think such a thing? If she doesn’t want a child, then don’t have one, but don’t have one because you feel like you “might as well.” There are thousands of couples who would kill for that kind of ambivalence.

Now that I am pregnant with my second, seven years after my first at age 35 I understand what she was saying. She knew that it would be better to have the child now than later. She looked ahead to the sleepless nights, the leaking breasts, the milk machine, the post partum blues, the baby weight, the loss of independence and knew that she certainly didn’t want to do THAT at age 38, 39, or God forbid, 40! So she made a conscious decision to “get it over with” in order to get her life back by the time she turned 38, 39 or 40.

It’s very alienating to feel this cynical about my second pregnancy. I know that when people ask me, “Are you excited?” I’m supposed to say, “Of course! My husband and I are delighted. We’ve been trying for so long and now it really is happening…again.” But what I end up saying more often than not is, “Sure,” and then I get the hell out of there. This is because I’m simply not excited, and my husband and I haven’t been trying for a long time. I know what’s coming, and it terrifies me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not unhappy. We made the choice to have another baby, and know we are very lucky that we had no problems conceiving right when we wanted to, but it’s such a different feeling; more tentative and subdued.

I’m truly thankful for my son, who actually is excited. This is his first baby, and although it probably won’t happen, he envisions long nights of playing Star Wars in the back yard and tons or wrestling on the couch. He pictures he and his brother (because he is sure it will be a boy) doing all kinds of boy stuff that includes superheroes, fort building and hole digging. I try to remind him that he will be seven years older, but he doesn’t seem to care. His excitement knows no bounds. He will spend time talking to my belly, telling it secrets and thinking of more and more ridiculous names for the baby. Right now, he is thinking of naming it Boba Fett.

I’m glad he is excited and know it will rub off on me soon, perhaps when we actually get the ultrasound done that lets us know if the baby is a boy or a girl. In the mean time, I’m going to let my son be excited for all of us. I think it is important for other mothers out there who are considering their second (or third) child after a long break from diapers and nursing to know that you are not alone. It’s ok to feel ambivalent about the pregnancy, as long as you are still taking care of yourself and your baby. Of course when she’s born, you will love her and say, I can’t imagine why we waited so long. But for now, it’s ok to not glow. Don’t let others judge you or your feelings, and certainly don’t feel guilty for thinking, “Why am I doing this again?” Eventually, the reason will be crystal clear.

Post Script: It’s amazing what one ultrasound can do. We saw our beautiful baby girl. She was moving and sucking her thumb, kicking and waving. Now, I am finally getting excited to welcome her to our home. My son, however just got the blues.

Baby Name Poll Results

I thought you’d like to see the results of my poll.  Also, a little explanation of why each name made it to the list. Here they are!

Other (see below) 25%

Boba Fett 21% (My son wanted to name it Boba if it was a boy)

Bailey Catherine 17%  (Actual name contemplated and then discarded)

Hannah Elizabeth 13% (A combination of my Mother and MIL’s name picks from my last pregnancy)

Megalynn Clairisa 13%  (The names of my four friends combined)

Dorothy Jean 8% (My grandmother’s name. I never met her)

Veronica Ann 4% (My dad’s name is Ron, so I was thinking about how to name her after him. Unfortunately, Veronica is the name I used in college when I went out to bars.)

Beulah Carol 0% (My great Grandmother’s name and my MILs name)

Faye Christina 0% (Tina Fey!)

Other Answer Votes

Carol Anne, Bernice Lynn, Daisy May, Bacon McButter, Summerfall Winterspring

White Trash Pedicure

Have you ever gotten a pedicure? For me, it is a rare occurrence.  Very rare. Because these wonderful indulgences are so few and far between, I must admit that I expect a lot from them.  Not only should my toes be soft and cute afterwards, but the experience has got to be wonderful too.  Otherwise, I’d just paint my own freakin’ toes and put some lotion on my feet, right?

I decided for my 35th birthday, I’d get a pedicure. Since I’m pregnant, and it is increasingly harder to see my toes, let alone paint them, it seemed like a good idea.  I decided to add a haircut, take a half day off of work and really pamper myself.  I even decided to call my old salon which is miles and miles away because they feel like home to me, and the last time I got a haircut and a pedicure there I was extremely happy with the results.

So off I go, away from my very, very talky coworker to the Salon (which I do not want to dis because this is the FIRST time I’ve had a bad experience here). At first it is as I expect. I have to wait a bit. I talk to the staff. They remember me. They ask me all the right questions about me and my family and my bump.  I’m scheduled for a pedicure at 2 and a hair cut at 3. 

So it begins. I am instructed to go back to the spa room, where the water is ready for me. I go, take off my shoes and dunk my feet. I’m alone for about 2 minutes. No,  had I known that this would be the most relaxing part of the experience, I would have savored it more, but I did not know this.  The woman came into the room, and I knew I was in trouble when she stated loudly, “You look like that and you’re pregnant. I look like that and I’m FAT.” She then plopped down and started to tell me WHY she was fat. She apparently decided to stop smoking and drinking (good for her!). So far, I’m not too upset, but then she goes on.  The following is inspired by her dialogue as I cannot remember it word for word, but you get the picture:

“I stopped drinking because I gotta new man in my life. He don’t drink, so that’s why I stopped. He’s a PROFESSIONAL paint baller! Have you ever heard of such a thing? I went to his website. He’s legit, and he is so hot. He is bald and muscular (add gross mouth/tongue gesture here). He also works for Harley Davidson. And he is so great to my two sons. My one son, I call him the “Spawn of Satan. ” He’s a horrible child. His dad is a cop. I was married to him for about five years. He’s such an asshole. He won’t even let me see his new baby daughter. His wife is great though, but anyway. Do you know when the new Fast and Furious movie is coming out? It’s this weekend right? I can’t wait! Do you like Vin Diesel? (No) What? Well, I ain’t rubbing your feet no more. Oh my god, if that man was within 20 miles of me, I’d need a restraining order because I would go right up to him and ask him if he wanted to f@#k me, then they’d probably lock me up. Which my ex would love. He’d just love to send me to jail. He should lock up that lazy ass son of his. All Spawn of Satan does is play X-box all day.”

It went on like this for a LONG time, so long in fact, that the girl who was supposed to cut my hair at three came in and asked if she could cut my hair now and my pedi could be finished afterward.  So that’s what we did. I put on some flip flops, got my hair cut and then went BACK to the spa room.  The second half of the pedicure was longer than the first, because now she had TIME to talk. 

As my mom said when I told her this story, “When you go to get a pedicure, you want someone to rub your feet for a half hour and shut up!”  Indeed.  So, my relaxing, birthday indulgence day did not go as planned. My toes are cute, but at what cost?  I will never get that two hours back. Hopefully, I can get a more relaxing end-of-pregnancy pedicure elsewhere.

 

Watch the hilarious SNL commercial mocking Fast and Furious!

I’m Telling!

When one finds herself knocked up, one is immediately confronted with the immeasurable task of deciding who to tell, in what order, and when. It is truly an art that I admittedly am not very good at.  Because I am a person who generally likes to be open and honest with everybody, I am not used to keeping secrets. I am horrible at it. I want everyone to know my opinion, my past, my advice and/or what is going on with me, now!

When I was pregnant with my son, I couldn’t wait a day!  NOT ONE DAY. I called my friend Lynne right away. Then my husband and I were going to wait until we went to the doctor to tell our parents, but I couldn’t wait then either.  I told everyone immediately.  To some, it may have seemed like the longest pregnancy ever, because they knew about it from conception. I will never forget Jeff’s grandmother’s response when we told her, I think I was maybe 8 weeks along, and she said, “Well you can’t be so sure yet.”  Thanks Ruth! You are the sweetest.

So when I discovered that I was pregnant on December 1, I was again hit with the big question. Who do I tell, in what order, and when? This time it was not so easy. I am seven years older now. The chance for complications is a little bit greater. Also, Christmas was coming! What a great time to tell our parents! Could I wait until Christmas to tell everyone? That was the plan anyway, and again I failed miserably.

Of course, I told my husband right away. The next day I told Lynne. Then I was good for a while, but felt guilty that I hadn’t informed my other friend Megan yet, so I told her after a week. On December 12th, I told my other friends Claire and Lisa.  On the 15th, I told a random person at work.  I don’t know why, it just came out.  We told our son on the 18th, because my husband, who is WAY better at this than I, wanted to tell his best friend that night when they went out for drinks. He refused to tell anyone before he told our son. (Again, he is much better at this than me!) And finally on Christmas day, my parents and my husband’s parents and brother & sister-in-law were informed. On New Year’s Day, I told the one friend I was putting off telling, mostly because she is trying too and because I actually felt guilty about BEING pregnant before her.  All this activity before my first doctor’s appointment in January.

Not telling people at work has been the hardest. This is because, currently all I do at work is yawn. I am SO tired. Exhausted! I want to tell people, “Well in my delicate condition, I can’t help but be tired.” Then all would be forgiven. I might even be able to nap! People would perhaps bring me my very own cot! What bliss. What complicates things is that my boss is also a very good friend.  So I WANT to tell her, but don’t want to tell her.  I’ll tell her the day after my appointment, which is finally tomorrow. Wish me luck.  (Oh and Carin, if by some extremely odd chance that you are reading this before Tuesday, I’m sorry you had to find out this way!)