Curls Gone Wild

Times have definitely changed in just a year. Little man is officially a fifteen-month old boy. I find myself accidentally telling people he is two. I just can't believe that my giant of a toddler is still considered a baby at his age. He's over three feet tall and over thirty pounds already. We are due for another check up, but with our move across the country, there is still some setting up to do.

Regretfully, we just had his hair cut last week. I find myself missing his adorable long, baby curls. It took me about a month to get used to the idea of cutting Brady's hair. I'd roll down the windows to let the breeze flow in our truck and the poor little guy had his bangs flying in his eyes. I just couldn't punish him for my fears of "losing" my baby. So we found the cutest barbershop for kids and scheduled an appointment. It seemed like the very day he was scheduled to go in, his hair cooperated. This is a typical event for me whenever I plan to do something drastic to my hair. Just seems natural it would be hereditary. Bman just had the curliest, blond-streaked, perfectly tousled hair I wish I had (the remorse is dripping off my words). He looked like a surfer dude.

Reluctantly, I held my resolve and met Kyle to get the deed done. Surprisingly, there were no tears. Not even from me. The barber bagged his locks and attached them to a certificate with a picture for us. I think the souvenir was more for me than for the young client. Sometimes I think he looks like one of the characters from the movie, "Dumb & Dumber", when his bangs form a straight line across his forehead. I guess it's partially my fault because I couldn't commit to crew cut like his dad's. Apparently, a lot of moms have trouble completely going for it with the first cut. I asked for a "longer" short style. When we comb it fresh from the bath it does look great, I have to admit.

It's amazing how the simple act of cutting Brady's luscious baby ringlets would make him look so much older. I try not to, but I find myself expecting more out of him. Strangely enough, he has been doing more. It is probably pure coincidence, but he's saying more words like "Daddy, Monkey, Doggy, Ice". To his own demise, he's climbing the stairs (and tables) with confidence. It's probably the appropriate age to start exploring and become more independent. Just worked out it was perfect timing with the transitional haircut.

Brady does tug on his hair from time-to-time. I wonder if he knows he's different too. I think he wants to grow up and be a "big boy". I'm okay with him growing up. I want him to be a thriving person in society. I just want him to do it at a steadier pace. At his rate, he will be reciting the Declaration of Independence and Pythagorean Theorem by age two. Maybe I will be okay with his accelerated growth if he grows his curls back...

I Need a Shot to Handle his Shots

My little boy had his six month check up today. I usually love to bring him to the pediatrician's office because I get to really show him off. This is the only place where they ask a million questions about my son and I get to gladly tell them all they want to know. "Does he roll from front to back? Can he sit up by himself? Does he giggle and coo? Is he on solids?" I love how in-depth the doctors and nurses are and how much they want to know about B-Man.

Brady is such a ham when it comes to pretty girls. He really can't help himself from showing off his two pearly white bottom teeth. The nurses and female staff get a dose of dimples whenever he makes eye contact. It's the male doctors that make him nervous. That is probably a result of being around me and my non-manly voice 24/7. I actually have finally moved out of his room at night, so I'm no longer with him 24 hours a day. That's a relief.

So the doctor visit went pretty well. He's 30 inches long, 20 pounds, 13 ounces. His head measures 18 inches around. Overall, for a six-month-old baby he's large and in charge. There were no major concerns. Brady's biggest concern was the five shots he had to have today. He received all of his required vaccinations and the flu shot. We will be traveling with him in a plane next month, so I figured it was better safe than sorry. He will get his follow up shot the day before we fly away.

Shots-time is the most difficult for me, and I am pretty sure most moms would agree. I find myself feeling so awkward. I don't know where to put myself. I want him to know I am there for him, but at the same time, I don't want him to think that I am hurting him. I find myself petting his belly and "oohing" and "aahing" at him to distract him. The first vaccination he received was a sugary-sweet drink. I'm not really even sure what it protects him against, but he's had it since his very first check up. He seemed relieved while he drank the liquid. The relief was short-lived. Once the nurse inserts the first shot and quickly moves on to her second and third, he's a ball of tears. I feel so bad for him. Today I actually witnessed some blood spill out from one of his shots. I almost cried. My poor baby. I always have to remind myself that it's better that he feels a moment of pain than a lengthy amount of time being sick.

Luckily, I thought ahead this time and dressed him before his shots. The last time we were at the office for his four month check up, I dressed him afterward. He was so upset, I couldn't get him to stop screaming, so he remained upset the rest of the afternoon. When the nurse was finally finished with his vaccinations, I scooped up my little man and held him close. I am so relieved he stopped crying shortly thereafter. He's napping now. He's probably exhausted from the amount of stress he was in this afternoon. My big, sweet baby boy.

Feeling the Empty-Nest Inside

This weekend was a little sad for me. Kyle and I had been debating on moving Brady to his own crib in his bedroom for a while now. We could tell he was getting a bit cramped in the bassinet and needed to have space to move about at night. His every stir woke me, and I'm fairly certain that my rumblings in the night woke him, as well. He's officially been sleeping in his room for a little over a week. I knew I had to move him, even though it really pained me. He slept so good in his bassinet by my side. My baby is graduating and officially moved out of his newborn bed.

You would think I should be excited about this important milestone. This means more sleep in my own quiet room and no more midnight feedings. Even my sister-in-law with twins, who are a month younger than Brady, have moved into their own room. I guess I am still clinging to the feeling of being needed. If my first son doesn't need me in the middle of the night, what do I do? I suppose I could just sleep.

I started to notice that he was waking again in the middle of the night for comfort, or just from confusion. From the beginning, we used his crib as his "naptime" bed, and the bassinet was his nighttime bed. I think he thinks every hour or so he should get up, so I'm there with his pacifier to soothe him back to sleep right away. I think that maybe the transition to a full night in his nap-bed will take a bit of adjustment. Or, maybe I'm the one who really needs to adjust to this situation.

So, in accordance to the official move to his own bedroom, I undressed his bassinet and put it in the garage for storage. I bundled up his tiny little mattress and tied it in a garbage bag. I also moved out his newborn swing and packed away the clothing that no longer fits him. I just can't seem to get over the fact that there are outfits that he never really even got to wear. I think he skipped the 3/6 month size altogether.

Kyle and I decided that our ever-maturing baby boy might need to start on having some solids. I consulted with fellow mommy friends and the consensus seems to be that we can start trying rice cereal slowly about this age. Brady is seventeen weeks old now and a "supported sitter". He receives food from a spoon and actually swallows most of it.

The only thing that stinks about our gradual transition to solids is the fact that he doesn't "stink" as much. I think that iron-fortified cereal might be stopping-up my boy. I've heard recommendations that I try to feed him pear juice. I also read that we should make his food soupier, and to try to feed him after a full formula feeding. The full-feeding makes no sense to me because when he's full, why would he want to eat anymore food? Now, I'm starting to read more things that say that he should be at least six months old. Regardless of the statistics, my gut says he's ready to try some solids. I'm sure that at our next pediatrician check-up, later this week, the doctor will state otherwise. I read this quote from a blog online that said, "I'd heard a rumor that the age to start solids has changed AGAIN - can anyone confirm? It was 4 months in 2001 and 6 months in 2004. I'd heard that it was now 4.5 months - is that true or just maliciousness of health care professionals trying to keep us in doubt about our ability to parent (OK a bit tongue in cheek there - but it is CRAZY :eek: - the babies haven't changed, just the advice)". I think I might be able to agree with that statement. Either way, we gave Brady a bit of a break on his solids and he has been "successful" once again.

There have been quite a few changes in our household. Little Brady probably has no idea what is really going on around him. He doesn't cry as much when he's hungry. I believe he knows we will feed him and he is not as stressed about eating as he used to be. He actually will cuddle when Kyle holds him now. He's learned to grip us when we carry him. Our little man has found his squeaky voice and practices gleefully screaming and playing with consonants. He seems to adjust with schedule changes pretty well and is more mature when it comes to family outings. I feel that he trusts we will take care of him, and we, as parents, are learning to trust our abilities. While I am glad that Brady is a healthy boy, I can see how parents get an "empty-nest syndrome" when their kids go off to college. I know I can't really compare moving from his bassinet to his crib to a teenager going off to college, but a move across the house will undoubtedly take a bit of adjustment--for me.

Learning to Live by the Boy Scouts Motto

Whoever said that a new baby will bring nothing but pure joy and sunshine to a relationship was obviously delusional. I'm not saying that I don't love my child or that I don't enjoy the new life in my family; I do. I cherish the ground he has yet to learn to walk on. What I'm saying is that no one ever really explains how trying a new baby can be on a young couple... especially with the very first child.

Before the birth of our first child we were both number one in each other’s eyes. Now that number one is the bouncing baby boy that we prayed so hard to have. This is not a complaint, I'm merely just stating that there is a huge adjustment. First, being the mom, I sacrificed so much sleep. I've learned to function on just three hours of consecutive sleep in the very beginning. Luckily, that short-stint of sleeplessness only lasted about three months. Now, I'm very spoiled and can sleep for seven to eight hours like every other normal human being on the earth. I can't very well say that Dad has felt the sacrifice as I had in the sleep department, but he also went to work every day while I stayed home. It's something we had to do just to make sure money kept coming into our home.

Speaking of money, no one tells you that it gets so tight. Well, it's said in passing, but I never really grasped how things would be when we went from two decent incomes to just one. We did not want to put a newborn in daycare and worked hard to find a way for me to stay at home with Brady. Groceries are still paid for and the bills are on time, but there is not much for discretionary spending that we had become accustomed to having our first five years of marriage. We have been perpetually cash-strapped for three months straight now. We did save some money for any unforeseen hard times we might come upon before Brady was born... and we are officially starting to tap into that savings. I guess it's good we were prepared. It's also such a good thing that I was offered a great job to work part time and bring the baby to work with me. That should help to really supplement our income. I'm truly grateful for that opportunity and look forward to starting that job soon.

The new definitions of roles are very fuzzy in the very beginning. Not only was I sleep deprived, I felt a little out of sorts. I had no real idea what my role should be. I felt guilty using the TV and having the computer on at the same time. It's a bit irrational, but I felt that if I used too much electricity then I was not helping out our household. I felt like I had to do the dishes, the laundry, and clean, then cook dinner, take care of the dog. All of this on top of being on Brady's beck-and-call. It was a very awkward time for me. I had been working since I was fifteen. It took a little while, but now I'm pretty used to being at home and realize my main job is to be here for my growing baby. All the rest of the chores come secondary. Going back to work part time will really help me to feel like I'm contributing to our household. Being a SAHM (stay-at-home-mom) has its glamorous connotations, but without friends who are in the same situation, it can seem very lonely. I know, cry a river.

One of the changing parts of having a new family is the fact that every morning the baby gets a warm smile and a kiss first. Kyle says hello to Brady when he gets home from a long day of work before he acknowledges me. Sometimes I think even our dog, Monkey, gets a greeting first. I know that I am not the best at welcoming Kyle home, especially if I just got the baby down for a nap. Our son has swiftly become the center of our world. I know that Monkey feels the pinch in his attention-getting as well. No finger pointing here, just realizing that our child brings so much joy, we will do anything to receive a toothless grin.

Sometimes it feels like having a new baby creates difficulties in doing things we want to do. It's not that we necessarily miss going out on the town and partying like it's 1999, but just everyday things can turn into major events. We really have to plan to do anything with a baby. He needs a nap every two hours, at least, and it's difficult to plan around those naps right now. Anyone who claims that life with a new baby is easy, and that they have to follow the parents' schedules, must not have had a baby in the past year, or are superhuman. I try my best to do things with Brady and try to be as prepared as possible. I've come to realize when push comes to shove, a tired baby needs a nap when he needs it, and there is nothing you can do to console him in public. I guess that just comes with parenthood.

I felt compelled to acknowledge the changes in our lives because I never really seem to hear from fellow moms about how the family dynamics evolve after a baby is born. Mom and Dad each need to be acknowledged for more than just being the breadwinner and the homemaker. I think it's important to remember that even though we love our babies, sometimes to a point of pure narcissism, we need to remember that it took two people to make the new family. As my sister quoted to me, "In love, both parties need to give at least 70% of themselves. If both are giving 70%, both are putting the other first, and both are getting their fair share of 100% attention". All we can do is try to do better every day. Babies truly bring bliss and happiness to a home. Everything is new and fascinating with a newborn. Sometimes we just need a knock on the head to remember that a baby can adjust to different environments with practice. Life as we knew it doesn't have to end, just move forward. I guess a little more planning ahead really never hurt anyone anyway.

"Be prepared for life - to live happily and without regret, knowing that you have done your best. That's what the Scout motto means."

The Fit's Gonna Hit the Shan

Tiny's hair is finally starting to grow back in. He had a full head of hair when he was born (the heartburn during pregnancy paid off), but it all fell out after just a couple of weeks. It's still got the charm of "old man" hair in the back and reminds me of Frank from the TV show "Everybody Loves Raymond". Part of me wants to just shave off the bottom part of his baldness, but realize I shouldn't. It will grow back... and it is... slowly...

His eyebrows are starting to darken and his eyes are changing, slightly, to a more brown/hazel appearance. Our hopes for a blue-eyed baby boy are fading with each day. Neither Kyle nor I have blue eyes, we just thought maybe our family genes would skip us and give him the dazzling sparklers. Oh well, he's just as cute with darker eyes.

Our little man is teetering on the brink of learning how to laugh. He smiles broadly at us and does a "huh-uh" sound. It's high-pitched and sounds like the start of a giggle. He just hasn't learned the follow-through. I am so excited at the prospect of his learning this wonderful baby skill. Baby giggles are the best! I tickle him at every chance I can, in hopes that he will bust an adorable gut.

He's rocking and trying to roll now, too. We will lay him on his back and he will rock himself from side to side. Tiny's little body will get most of the way rolled over, but his noggin will hold him back. I suppose it is larger than his body right now, so maybe it's heavy. We try to inspire his developing rolling abilities by placing Tiny on his stomach as often as we can. He is not too fond of the tummy time on the floor and would prefer to do that while laying on top of our stomachs and cooing at us. He just turned 14 weeks this past Friday, so I'm not in too much of a hurry to get him rolling. According to a child development book I skim, only half of babies can roll over by four months. So there is no need to push him, I only encourage.

This past week has been a really great week for Brady's maturation. He met his Uncle Jake for the first time and I was able to leave him with Jake for an hour or so at a time. He did not seem to care if neither of his parents were with him. It is refreshing to know that he is a calm baby even for people outside his immediate circle.

Tiny has recently learned to fall asleep on his own for naps in his crib in his own bedroom. We used to rock him to sleep in his bouncer with a pacifier when he needed a nap. Now, I've officially learned to watch him for signs of being tired. His threshold for alertness is 1 & 1/2 to 2 hours max. He is growing more able to stay awake for the longer stretches and sleeping for shorter spans. This is great for me. He officially seems to know that day is for play and night is for sleep. He can sleep eight hours at a time at night. He gets the bulk of his feedings early in the day and will eat every couple of hours before bedtime. I have learned to lay him down while he is still awake and happy. I notice if he blinks really slow and know that's a first signal of tiredness. If he starts to grab at his ears or ball his fists near his eyes, I know it's time to lay him down. He will usually also let out a little whimper. Especially if it coincides with the two-hour mark. He's been a tremendous sleeper for naps. His fussy time is shorter than ever. He fusses for maybe fifteen minutes a day. He's growing up so fast, I can hardly believe it.

Tiny is officially fitting into six month onesies. He seemed to totally skip over the three month sized clothes and he's only three and a half months old. I never really realized how fast babies really grow. There are some outfits that he never even got to wear. He just grew too fast! If our second baby is a boy, then it will be nice to still have new outfits for him. If the second little one is a girl, then the poor thing will be instant "tomboy", with or without her consent.

Our Brady is an active baby boy, bouncing in his chair and able to hold himself up for more time while he sits. His head is significantly less wobbly and he's so alert and communicative. He loves to "oooouuuuu" and "aaaah" and cough to get our attention. He does "super-fast-baby-kicks" with the help of his daddy and I have a feeling that will induce baby giggles in no time. I can not believe he has been a part of our family now for fourteen weeks. Sometimes it feels like he's been here forever and others it feels like just yesterday he was born. I still can't believe that someday in the future Brady will be on TV waving "Hi MOM", and that will be me. It is really quite an honor to have this role.

Bugs & Poo

Well the little one is fast asleep. He ate his usual two ounce snack of formula and had a fresh diaper before I understood what all of his wailing about. He's almost seven weeks old and I'm still learning what he needs. I think I'm getting pretty good at it. It's all a process of elimination.

On the subject of "elimination", you would think that since he cries over just a teeny bit of pee in his diaper that he would have been beyond upset last night. We were watching one of our favorite T.V. shows while Brady was smiling away in his bouncer. That thing is a true godsend (when nothing else can soothe him, that's our go-to). I leaned over to talk to Hubs and noticed a strong, foul odor rising from my tiny child. I looked at him and asked, as if he could reply, "did you poop?" Of course, he just smiled and cooed at me. So I did what any red blooded mom would do: I pulled the frills of the diaper by his leg to peak at the goods. Oh my goodness. Heavens to Betsey (insert any other exclamatory phrases in here). I have never seen so much poo in my life. Well, I have, but from a little human, it was incredible! It was oozing out of his diaper... it was like he had a mini bean bag coming out of his butt... and he was just smiling away, having a grand old time. I have no idea why this amount of poo did not bother him. I immediately pulled him from the bouncer only to find the poo had escaped and gotten on the cloth bouncer. Kyle was put on bouncer duty. Speaking of "duty", it even escaped on to his clothes. So I stripped that little boy and went to cleaning up his handiwork. He must've been proud of himself. That is the only explanation I have as to why he wasn't hysterical at the full diaper. If it wasn't so grotesque, I had even thought of taking a picture for future evidence.

I have been at home now, away from work, since Brady was born. I had no idea how this would be for me. I thought I would be bored. I guess I really just don't have much time to feel that way. Between trying to squeeze in naps when the baby is asleep, to cleaning the house, to the dishes, the laundry, getting dinner set up... all besides what I do for the baby: diapers, diapers, diapers, outfit change, feeding, soothing, etc. I just had always thought that if I stayed at home I would have nothing to do. Boy, was I wrong. I just can't seem to fit enough in my day. And this is all without leaving the house. When Kyle gets home from work, I venture out and "escape" then to Sam's Club and Wally World for groceries. It's not much excitement to shop for groceries, but I get out of the house for a couple of hours. We find ourselves learning to "live poor". Two incomes down to just one is quite the adjustment. We just don't do the things we used to. We don't go out for midweek dinners, I don't eat out for lunch, I don't use much gas in the truck, haven't done much for fun shopping. I've just been learning to figure what we actually need, instead of just what we want. When it comes right down to it, we don't really need much. I actually cleaned out my closet and had five bags of clothes to give away. These are things I have kept over the years that I haven't worn much in a while. That just shows me that I wasted money. Now, my goal is to try to buy traditional clothes, no trends. I will try harder to not buy on a whim.

Speaking of clothes, I am still bummed to find that I am much bigger than I pictured myself. I keep hoping that I will fit in my pre-maternity clothes. They are so small on me. I just can't believe how much I've grown. My hips are wider, my legs seem bigger. I know on the scale I have fifteen to twenty pounds to lose to get to my weight before I got pregnant, but I just don't see myself in the XL sizes I have to try on at the store. It could have been the particular stores I was at, or the brands I was trying, but L and XL have never really been in my clothing collection. Needless to say, I was completely dismayed after a shopping trip. I needed to get some capris and/or shorts to help with the summer heat approaching. Maternity clothes are falling off of me, and I can't fit in my pre-baby clothes. This transition really just sucks. I know that it will take a while to get back to normal and that I shouldn't be so upset. I did lose twenty five pounds since delivery, but 8 1/2 of that was Brady. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not whining, I'm changing things. I drink more water, I eat more vegetables, we are limiting fast food intake. Kyle was even so inspired with how upset I was at my weight that he jumped online to look for a treadmill. God must've been on our side, because immediately upon signing on Craigslist, he found a free treadmill. Kyle emailed the poster and got a quick response. Within two or so hours we had a treadmill in our garage. Thank goodness for an empathetic husband.

Another thing my husband is good for: killing bugs. He's very good at many, many things. Like taking the baby after he's been at work all day so I can have a mini break. He knows when I just need to get out of the house and will insist I go out and get groceries (I know that doesn't sound fun to most, but to a housebound mom, it's wonderful). In summary, my husband is a really great man and he's wonderful in many ways. There's just this bug-killing thing that he does that makes me appreciate him. And I do. Until the other night, I was brushing my teeth and he walks up to me with some news. He makes sure I'm listening and says, "there was a bug on your toothbrush, but don't worry I killed it." Now, do I continue brushing or throw the toothbrush away? This is how I know I've been around boys too long... I brushed anyway and thought to myself that it was extra protein. Does a body good.

Huggies for a Year Program

HUGGIES is giving away 4 one-year supplies of their new Pure and Natural Diapers exclusively to Ellen fans between now and May 29th! The diapers include natural materials like organic cotton, and all you have to do to win is click here and enter! To learn more, please visit www.HuggiesPureAndNatural.com.

In addition, HUGGIES is providing 5 bonus rewards points for Ellen viewers that can be used to win more fun prizes! Simply go to www.enjoytheriderewards.com and enter code BGZQZ-JCXFC-HZPGB.
Here are some more codes that I have found that will give points:

BBWBH-SDHFQ-CJPGB
ZQQGS-FLRLM-XBPGB
WPBXZ - RDDNS - PPPGB
TKHNF-RLPLS-TRPGB
rszng tjnph dhpgb
BBMRG-BFQGS-FBPGB

How to earn more points for Huggies:
http://sweetmama.ca/Huggies

http://community.babycenter.com/photoclubs/a6652875/adventures_in_parenting

http://www.facebook.com/login.php?v=1.0&api_key=25a1e39226da30cbcebb9d6dc591d1e1&next=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.circleofmoms.com%2Fzone.php%3Fentity_id%3D3%26entity_type%3DS&canvas

http://www.cafemom.com/group/102757

https://enjoytheriderewards.com/Default.aspx?page=earn&tab=poll&bhcp=1

https://enjoytheriderewards.com/Default.aspx?page=earn&tab=video&bhcp=1

https://enjoytheriderewards.com/Default.aspx?page=earn&tab=video&bhcp=1



Here is a site I found with lots of links to great coupons for formula and diapers:
http://familyfinances.suite101.com/article.cfm/baby_formula_coupons

I Go (Sleep)Walking After Midnight

I haven't had a full night's rest in months. I think I should be delirious and delusional by now. Brady has only been here for five weeks, so it's not all from midnight feedings. I could hardly sleep at all in my ninth month of pregnancy. That doesn't make my lack of sleep any easier to accept.

Speaking of "midnight feedings"... what a lie. They are more like, 1 A.M., 4 A.M., 6 or 7 A.M. feedings. I think we are slowly teaching him that nighttime is for sleeping and daytime is for play. We try to get him to "talk" to us and to smile and play during the day. He gets tired easily and overstimulated quick. He's young. We just aren't expecting too much from a 5 week old baby. Just taking it one day, er night, at a time.

I try so hard to get him to take his last feeding around eleven o'clock at night so that I MIGHT get to sleep until 2 A.M. It never seems to happen. He will take a half ounce here, two ounces there, until around 10:30 P.M. He seems to know my ploy, and he's not having it. Crafty little bugger.

It's going on a couple of months of little sleep and I am strangely finding it bearable. It's really not as difficult as it initially was the first couple of days. That could also be the missing R.E.M. talking. Brady likes to wake me around four in the morning, screaming like he hasn't eaten in weeks. I groggily get the usual 4 ounce bottle and he guzzles about two ounces. I burp him and offer the last half. Now that he's learned to smile on his own, that's when he shows off his dimples. He pushes out his bottom lip and sometimes even spits raspberries at me to show his lack of interest in more food. I have even resorted to turning on the lights and actually loudly speaking to him, "wake up, Brady". All to no avail. Five weeks of this, and last night I finally had an epiphany. Yup, I'm going to make only two ounces at the four o'clock feeding from now on. He will get more if he wants it. For some reason the lack of sleep makes me a bit slow on the uptake. But I'm getting there.

There are some articles I've read that this gets easier every month. Then I read babies don't sleep through the night until six months, or even up to a year. If I have to go through this for a year, I MIGHT go insane. No promises, I might already be there and in denial.

In the Motha' Hood

Motherhood has blown into my town in a flurried blur. I have officially been a mom for almost a month now. I want to say that things have been a sparkly journey and that things are great and full of flowers and sunshine. I can't really say that is true. There are a lot of things about being a mother that I was not really prepared for. Sure, I've read books and I go online to forums and chat sites. Sure, I pick the brains of my new-mom friends. I just have found that no matter how much I prepared for this role in my life, I was not really quite as informed as I believed.

Nowhere in the books does it say that you may possibly go through four diapers just to get your child into a clean and fresh one. This morning, as an example, I heard a big "explosion" in Brady's diaper. I figured, a good mom would not let that sit on his butt. The acid in the poo can hurt his behind and I didn't want him to get a diaper rash. So I started changing his diaper. (Kyle calls this green/blue/black poo "mortar poop". He claims that this stuff can hold together the Empire State building.) While changing Brady, the air sparked a "fountain experience" and not only was Brady covered in poo (he likes to kick his feet into it), it rained pee all over him. Luckily, I didn't have a new diaper on him yet. He likes to hum a very specific "Poo Song". I know this from getting to know him in the past month. It's very different from his content hum that he likes to do while he sleeps. This "Poo Song" is very deliberate and performed at a lower decibel. Usually while I'm cleaning him up from his first mess, he will begin a soft-serve-effect-poo during his "Poo Song". I waited for this song to be over. And diapered him. Three diapers later, I learned he likes to perform encores. Several minutes in between.

I learned that being a new mom can be so exciting and so new, while at the same time, really hurt. In more ways than one. I learned this when I decided to breastfeed Brady. From the beginning of my pregnancy I was fairly certain that I would not be breastfeeding. I figured since I was a formula-fed baby and so were my siblings, that it was perfectly fine to use a bottle. Even my mom was formula-fed. I liked the idea of getting help to feed the baby as well. I hate to admit this, and have admitted to a very non-judgmental friend, that I found breastfeeding really unappealing. Not to seem barbaric and ignorant, it just kind of weirded me out. I know it's a natural process and it's so good and wonderful. I just didn't think that it was the right thing for me. Until Brady was born. I immediately wanted to try breastfeeding. It just felt so natural. So I did it. And he was latching properly and he seemed content and I felt that I had finally found the perfect role for myself. Mom. I felt so empowered and enabled. It thrilled me that I could provide all things needed for my child.

Well, that feeling was short lived after my stay at the hospital. I was on a lot of prescriptions to help ease my pain. I guess it must've numbed my nipples as well. I had third degree tears in and out of my perineum from Brady's delivery. I couldn't even sit to urinate. I had hemorrhoids the size of a cluster of grapes. I know this for sure, because I witnessed them first-hand when I requested a mirror during the birth. I was physically tortured from top to bottom. Cracking nipples and all, I was determined to keep feeding my baby the natural way.

Then we had a check up at his pediatrician a couple of days later, and she said he lost an alarming amount of weight. We needed to supplement him. I know that most breastfed babies lose some weight (safely up to ten percent of birth weight) first before the milk comes in. He lost more than 8.8 ounces. I was just so hurt. My feelings of inadequacy and the hormonal "dumps" had me feeling especially sad. I was not only physically in a tremendous amount of pain, but I was unable to do what I thought was so magical and important for my child. I feared family and friends would say that my giving up on breastfeeding was just because of laziness or lack of perseverance. I know that if I continued to breastfeed I would have spiraled to a sort of depression. Being unable to sit and also having pieces of flesh sticking to my bra from soreness and tearing was going to make me feel worse emotionally as well. I truly believed that if I hadn't been sore in the perineum and bum that I could have muddled through the initial stages of breastfeeding. The pediatrician even admitted that some women are just unable to provide what is needed for their child. The milk just does not come in as quick as it needs to. So we switched Brady completely to formula. I felt that I did more than I planned to, as long as he got the colostrum, he got a lot from me. After struggling through much guilt and disappointment in myself, I decided to be satisfied with that.

Another part of motherhood that evolved, that I was unprepared for, is how mortal I feel now. I don't believe that I felt immortal before I had Brady... I just feel even more aware of how human I am. I am hyper aware of everyone while driving and with everything that I do now. I noticed that I stopped at a yellow light instead of blowing through it like I used to do. I'm aware that it's not just my life in the truck anymore. I have to protect Brady as well. I think I'm especially paranoid because I never really felt like I was needed before. Now I realize that Brady needs his mom. I also have a nagging fear in the back of my mind that I might drop him. Not sure if this is normal, but I find myself watching my footing at all times. Just to be sure that the pathway is clear. He's just so fragile. While I don't want to wish away his "baby" time, I do look forward to when he can hold up his head and feel a little less "new" in that way. He's just so tiny and defenseless. I have to be extra protective of him.

There are some things I worry about as far as being a mom. I worry that my identity will be lost. That I will be confused in the midst of dirty diapers and bottles. I hope to retain myself in this transition from just wife and daughter to mother. I want to offer Brady all that I have. I hope that he never wants for anything. That we can provide for him. Not only physical things like clothing and food, but love and support. I hope that Brady knows how much we love him. Now I know how my parents felt when they raised my siblings and me. The saying is true that you never know how your parents feel until you are a parent yourself. Now I know that my parents would do anything for me. That they love and worry about me. I know that is a feeling that will never disappear.

My heart has changed. It loves deeper than it ever has. I worry more than I ever have. I try not to let the worry consume me, I just accept it, and have faith that I will be the best I can be for my son. I know that I will not be the most perfect mother in the world, I do know that I will be the best mother that I can be for Brady. I'm okay with not being perfect. I hope to teach my son the same.

Can No Longer Hover 'Round

Everyday I am more in awe of the fact that I am going to really be a mother. Sitting at my desk right now, I really feel so ordinary. Then I feel a swish of movement above my hips in my belly and I remember, I am making a human. It still blows me away. Sometimes I will tap my stomach and feel a slight tap back. It's so crazy to me. There are even instances where Brady will haul off and kick my hand hard. If that's even his foot. It's so mind boggling.

At this moment, I really feel like just me. I barely notice my belly. I have to touch it sometimes to remember it's there. Other days, my back aches, or I get a Braxton Hicks contraction, and I remember, yup, it's gonna happen. I'm going to have a baby.

Last year, in July, I found out I was pregnant. It's now a quarter of the way through 2009 and I'm still pregnant. I guess when it feels like I've been pregnant forever, the 2008 and 2009 dates make it seem no less.

I am starting to grow out of my maternity clothes. I remember looking at those outfits in Motherhood and Target and thinking, "wow, I will never get that big". Now, my basketball looks a little bit over inflated and bigger shirts are snug and clingy. I only have one pair of jeans that are comfy (the others seem to dig right into my belly). My work pants all still fit, which is great, but I want to be able to lounge in comfort!! So I bought a pair of cargo pants yesterday from Motherhood. I had a leftover gift certificate, so I used it. I glanced at capris with sadness that I probably won't wear a pair again until after Brady is born. Luckily, a friend reassured me she got her ankles back within a day or so after giving birth. I'm trying to keep these puppies hidden as long as I can. It's inhumane to subject strangers to looking at them!

Just a little over four weeks to go and this "practice" event will be a reality. I will have a baby. It's so surreal to me. My "license to eat" should be revoked soon.. But it's so hard. I'm hungry all the time! Then I get heartburn. Must be punishment for indulging in so many McFlurries!

We went to Taco Bell this past weekend for lunch. Taco Bell is my favorite place. Take me there over any five star restaurant and I would be satisfied. Luckily the TBell we went to was not in my town, or I would have had to rethink that thought. We were about two hours north of home, to take a river tour with Kyle's brother Jakey, and Cuz. We stopped at TBell for some lunch. Granted, I wasn't wearing a very form-fitting shirt... but the cashier asked me when I was due. I told her, "in five weeks". She said, "WOW!! YOU'RE BIG!!". You should have seen her face! It was like she was in utter shock and exclaimed like I told her I was growing 8 babies like the infamous Octomom. So, I did what any self-respecting pregger would do, I thanked her. Then I stammered and tried to calm myself before I turned into a beet. Kyle wanted me to tell her that in five weeks I will be skinny again, she will still have a mustache. But I was not "on my feet" at that moment. So we proceeded to find a booth to eat our lunch. Feeling quite chubby, I slid, er, rather, tried to slide, myself in a booth. I crammed my belly into that booth and started to wonder how the heck anyone bigger than average can eat there! Apparently we found the only misshapen booth in the place. It must've been made for little people.. Kyle moved across the way and I followed and felt relieved to find breathing room. Yup, just another example of how wonderful it is to be 35 weeks pregnant and growing.

Another fun fact about the end of pregnancy; well, besides the blueberry-sized hemorrhoids that hang out, of course, is the lack of ability to hover. I can hover no more. I try so hard to hover over a public toilet and fall down. It's not pretty. I'm top-heavy now and wobbly. I've discovered that when I went to pick up something I dropped in the parking garage the other day. I leaned over like any normal person would do and found myself teetering off my hands to push myself back up before I completely spilled out onto the ground. My mission was always to touch as little landscape in a public restroom as possible. Now, I just check to be sure it is clean before I plop down on the seat. I have no choice. Besides, aren't there studies that prove public toilets are cleaner than desk keyboards? That's my defense, and I'm sticking to it!

Beware the Impending Waddle

Long ago were the days when I could simply suck in my gut to feel skinnier. Long ago were the days when I could look down and see my butterfly tattoo under my belly button. I remember the days when I could easily bend down to shave my legs. It seems like just yesterday I found out I was pregnant. That was in July of last year. Now it's a new year and the second month in... I feel like I've been pregnant for three years.

Just a month ago, I was saying that I don't mind being pregnant. I actually like it. I like the feeling of growing a baby, the shape of my bulging belly, and the attention that being "fruitful" brings. Now, with less than 8 weeks to go, I'm ready to stop feeling so mid-section heavy. I swear my belly leads the way. I've already warned people of the impending doom of my waddle. I'm trying so hard not to walk like a Weeble, but it's getting more and more difficult.

Doctor says I've only gained 28 pounds since the beginning of my pregnancy. I think she's just being nice. She knows the stress I've been under. I kind of wish I had never heard how low my number is, because now I think I subconsciously feel I now have a license to eat. I've been so good for so long... why not get some McDonald's fries?? So what if my butterfly tattoo looks more and more like a great Bald Eagle?? But I must stop myself. I've been blessed with no stretchmarks yet, I want to try to keep it that way.

It still feels so surreal that I'm actually carrying a baby. Some days I feel so average. I forget I'm carrying a baby... Not long enough to order a margarita, but long enough where I think, "dang, man, how much longer?"

We didn't do any birthing classes to get ready for this birth. It was going to cost $40 each to go, and quite frankly, with this economy, that was money we did not have. We've been watching "Baby Story" on TLC to get our knowledge up to speed. Yup, that's a scary show. Just like driving by a horrible car accident. It's so grotesque, but you can't help to rubberneck and look back at it anyway. This show has taught me that birth plans are useless: You never get what you want. Laboring women are handled like birthing cows. Doctors come in the room, barely say hello, shove their hand up the woman's hoo-ha, say how many centimeters, then leave. I just learned that a centimeter is about the width of a tip of a finger. I hope my doctor will have small fingers because I won't start giving birth until 10cm. Holy crap.

"Baby Story" has taught me that a lot of women try so hard to not have any drugs for their birth. I applaud their effort and admire their courage... but it is not for me. Especially when I see most of them "fold" and get the drugs they swore they wouldn't touch. I think that the drugs are here for a reason. I know people gave birth for thousands of years without drugs in our history. They've also had their teeth pulled without Novocaine. You won't catch me trying any of that. At least not this time. There are no extra gold stars in heaven for going through unnecessary pain.

I still can't believe that I'm going to have to give birth. I know that sounds kind of immature and juvenile, but I'm really in denial. I hope we can kinda skip the whole process and just put the baby in my arms. The big day is coming up so fast. I have no idea how to prepare. I'm not prepared. I think that even if we get our overnight bag ready, I have my focal point picked out, the due date is here, I will still be clueless what to do. I just hope that the doctors and nurses can direct me. I'm going to be like a deer caught in the headlights.

I hope to keep the birth lighthearted and try my best not to let any pain get the best of me. But that's a first-time mom with hopes that are highly unlikely. In then end, my birth plan consists of birthing a healthy baby. I don't care how it happens. As long as Brady is placed in my arms and I am doing okay, I don't care at all, how he is born. Until the day he is born, I will just sit here, in denial. Pretend that I just have to take a nap, they get the baby for me, I wake up, and my body is back to being just mine. That would be a nice dream...

Baking a Bowling Ball

Brady is now officially in his third trimester of growing. There are so many different ways to figure out how old he is and what month I'm in, I just kinda do my own thing now. First off, they all say you are pregnant nine months. Sorry, but it's ten months. 40 weeks can't be squeezed into nine months no matter how you try. I have some weekly emails that claimed when I hit 28 weeks that I was still just 6 months along. I know that when I divide 28 by 4 weeks, I get 7 months. So I went with that date. I feel like I've been "running this marathon" now forever. I have the right to "bump" it up when I feel it's necessary. And to have to stay in the six month range is just criminal.

Well, today I got an email that claims I have "officially" arrived into the third trimester. Two thirds done with this! Some days I really feel like this has just begun. Others days, I feel so huge and whale-ish.. and wonder what it was like to not be pregnant. I'm sure most women go through this at one point. I find myself even counting down the days until we meet Brady in terms of weeks. 11 weeks sounds so much sooner than 3 months or 79 days. Then, when I feel overwhelmed with how fast things are going, I make myself feel better and call it three months. I reflect back to how three months ago it was the end of October. That seems like forever ago now.

Apparently we are in the home stretch now. Time to iron out the baby registry and figure out what is still needed and what doesn't need to be on there anymore. Time to figure out work/baby care situations. Time to finish things up. Time to eat to fatten him up. He's still a skinny thing. Wouldn't know it by how hard he can kick, but he's gotta get more meat on him. Kyle and I were both 8 pound babies and we were both a week or so early (I was a C-section, he was naturally early). If we would have both gone full term, I wonder how big we would have been. My brother was a ten pounder. Gosh, I hope Brady isn't a ten pounder.. that's a bowling ball!

Parental Practice

I have a feeling that Boobies, our yellow lab, can tell that there will be some big changes soon. He has been acting really weird lately. We switched his dog food from a more pricey $35/a bag for forty pounds of Purina One (food he's had since he was a puppy, that we love to feed him) to $20/a bag for 55 pounds of Purina Dog Chow. I know we've downgraded his food considerably, and I feel horrible. But at the rate Boobies and Monkey eat their food, we go through it so fast. We really need to tighten things up with money before the baby comes.

We know that when it comes time to switch food for our dogs, that we must mix the old with the new to transition the change. They have sensitive stomachs and we are careful to not disrupt their digestion too much. It's been about a month since we've changed their food. It seems that just recently, Boobies has been really inhaling his food. We watch him and see that he actually is sucking in his ribs to eat. Then he hacks and wheezes and sometimes even throws his food back up.

I've been trying to feed him little by little lately. That seems to help a bit. I give Monkey his food first, across the kitchen, and then I feed Boobies a teeny bit of food at a time. I try to praise him when he actually chews. He seems so ravenous. I wonder if maybe our food doesn't satisfy him and he really is starving by next meal time? It's not like he's been losing weight. I would say he's got a good build. He's not too fat like Labs get, and he's not skinny. I know that Labs have a habit of being glutenous, but this is ridiculous.

I know he doesn't have any obstructions to cause him to throw his food up, because when I feed him slowly, he doesn't regurgitate. I read on some forums that dogs can feel stress. I wonder if maybe he can sense a new arrival coming and he's worried. I feel so bad for him if he's stressed. I don't feel that Kyle and I carry our stress of the upcoming change with us, but maybe Boobies can see right past our facade.

He went from being our only "baby" since he was a puppy, to being just another dog. Monkey came into his life when he was three and lost a part of his pedestal as the best dog ever. Now, he's been watching as we work on the nursery and buy baby things, and he's probably sensing another change coming. I wonder if we need to get him a new toy and pay extra attention to him? I don't think that Monkey is as affected by any possible changes as he still acts the way he's been since we've known him. As long as he gets affection and gets to snuggle with Kyle on the couch, he is satisfied.

I'm going to keep trying to feed Boobies slow and see if that helps any. There are some bowls out there with prongs in them to help the quick eater, and if I have to, I'll buy that. A friend also suggested that we get some toys that give him a "job" to do. Maybe a new Kong or a treat ball of some sort. She thought maybe if he was a bit more active with his mind, he will feel less stress. We do take the boys for walks after work before dinner.

This must just be practice for kids... We get so mad at him for doing "stupid" things like breathing his food down and then up-chucking it all over the carpet. It's not his fault he's doing this, if it's caused by emotion or stress. We have to get over our aggravation of his behavior and try to get to the root of it. Hopefully if we pay more attention to him and show him that we love him, he will feel more at ease... Parenting practice... that's how I look at it.

Glucose Girl & the Numb Butt

I took the day off yesterday to get my blood work done. Sounds like an easy day off, right? Wrong. It was the longest morning of my life!!

I had to fast from midnight the night before until my morning appointment. Luckily mine was at 8AM, but that didn't mean that they would be ready for me. I had to get the glucose levels tested for Gestational Diabetes. I've already taken a one hour test and failed it by just 16 points. This was a three hour test. Yay, me. This was going to be a torturous morning!

I arrived on time with a couple minutes to spare. I signed in, handed over my paperwork, and waited. And waited. After what seemed like three hours, I was called back to get started. My belly already started its morning rumble. My first tube of blood was drawn.. That wasn't so bad.. The technician handed me a bottle of Orange. It wasn't juice, it wasn't soda, it was just Orange. I had to chug it within five minutes. Sounds easy, doesn't it? It tasted like orange cough syrup; it was not easy. Especially on a very cranky and empty stomach! I told myself it was a liquor shot. I used to drink the grossest alcoholic drinks (before I was pregnant, of course!) and with no problem. This was harder because I knew I wasn't going to get a buzz.

It was already 8:30AM. Oy! I had to get my blood drawn three more times; once an hour. That means that I won't be eating any food til at least noon! I sat in the waiting room and was overwhelmed by people dressed in stale cigarette smoke and strong perfume. Okay, the wooziness was setting in. I found a 3 month old Parenting magazine and tried to focus on all the pretty babies. I tried to distract myself by texting on my cell phone. I hoped that would make the time pass.

It finally did. It was 9:30! I looked up and sent my subliminal message that an hour had passed. I overheard, "it's time for the Glucose Girl to get her blood drawn". Yup, that was me, Glucose Girl.

Back in my blood chair the technician pushed a needle in my arm. No problem... if I look away while it's going in, I don't notice the pain. Then I don't mind looking at the blood going into the tube. So I looked, and there wasn't any blood yet. What the hell? She started to move the needle around, in search of veins. OUCH!! She kept shifting the needle around, looking for gold. It was not going to happen for her. She apologized and tried my left arm. Yay. Luckily, when I looked away and then back at the tube, my precious red was flowing. Yippee. By this time, I swear my hand was turning purple. I started to see the world get floaty. I suppose that was the time the pure sugar I had the hour before was kicking in. Just about as soon as I notice the wavy surroundings, I felt my foot tap to a beat of its own. Yup, the sugar rush had officially started.

With this new energy, I was sent back to the lobby to wait another hour before my needle poke. I never felt so uncomfortable! I have decided that waiting three hours on an empty stomach with a baby kicking around in the belly would be the perfect form of torture! I felt Brady kick to his special beat; the one where he kicks the crap out of my cervix. He was probably as antsy as I was. I hadn't fed him since the night before. I repositioned myself and once again gagged on strong, over-priced perfume that hung in my nose from the stench in the room.

10:30 finally arrived and I went back for my third tube of blood. I complained to the technician that it really seemed unfair that a pregnant lady has to go through this. She told me that she had a woman who failed her first one-hour test by one point and had to do the three-hour test. One point! The technician and I agreed that if they had just told us to fast for the one-hour test, our results would be more accurate! I personally can smell a conspiracy. If they find that I do, in fact, have gestational diabetes, then this won't be all moot. But I have a feeling they won't find much more than the fact that I had Orange juice before my original testing appointment. Note to self: fast before first screening to avoid this experience in the future.

I was able to muddle through and survive the sugar crash before my final extractment at 11:30. It was so hard to not just pull up a chair and spread out and sleep. I almost asked if it would be okay to go to my car and nap. I survived though. The last vial taken, and I was a free woman! I called Kyle, told him to get ready, we were going to McDonald's!! What, did you expect something nutritious? Preggers needed some food NOW!

Hospital Tour

The much-anticipated hospital tour was last night. It surely wasn't what I was expecting, but at the same time, it was exactly what I thought it would be. After all, it is a hospital.

So we headed to the center with plenty of time to spare. It's only a fifteen minute drive from home, if we go the speed limit. I'm sure that when the labor time comes and we are speeding, we can cut that time in half! It was a little difficult to find close parking. We did manage to find a spot a few parking lots over. It's okay, pregger girl needs the exercise.

We went to the women's center and waited for the event to start. We were on time. That's rare for me lately, so that was nice. There was a wide range of people for this tour. There was the "perfect" red cardigan girl, we'll call her Red, who sat across from me. I think she was due in March. One girl was due in February and said she would have loved to schedule it for the upcoming weekend if she could, without having to have a c-section. Most women looked ready to "pop". I felt like I was touring a bit early in my pregnancy compared to them. There was a young couple with a belly barely 3 or 4 months. She barely even looked pregnant. I only have 12 weeks to go, I didn't feel so bad after seeing her. I figured it was safer than sorry to just get the peek at the hospital over with.

We start the tour and packed ten larger-than-life pregnant women and their significant others in an elevator. Fear of causing a crash did occur, but we were assured we were okay. We rode to the third floor and started touring the delivery rooms. I am relieved that all rooms have single beds. The tour guide mentioned that the dads can have a cot to sleep on and that they were pretty uncomfortable. Red's husband got brownie points from her for saying, "well, our discomfort won't even compare to what our wives are gonna go through". Gag me. Red proudly, or should I say, snidely, looked around to make sure we all heard what he had to say. We did, Red, he's great.

I was glad to hear that we are allowed up to three people in our birthing room. I plan to have Kyle, of course, and Cuz. They will help me to feel "normal" and will probably keep my spirits up. I like to crack them up and that will keep my mind off any pain I'm sure I will be having. Ours will be Cuz's first sight of actual birth. She has never seen her babies born or her grandbabies. It's so magical that she will see her first great grandbaby take his first breath! I'm just sure between Kyle and Cuz, they will be passed out on the floor while I am pushing. I'll be sure to bring my video camera for proof!

We moved on to c-section rooms and they weren't as pleasant. They had actual stretcher beds for wheeling into the operating rooms. As great as a planned delivery seems on paper, I think I would prefer getting over my fear of labor, because I know the healing process is quicker.

We toured the water birth room for Red. She "might" want to consider a water birth. How special. I do have to say the room was painted really sweet and I could really feel calm in there. But trade in granny-style wall paper and ugly borders in the delivery rooms for a water birth? No. That's right up there with the orgasmic birth for me. Might work for others, but a little to "new" for me. Let's just go old-fashioned.

Next, we went over to the postpartum area for moms and babies. We saw an adorably small baby in the nursery with his mom. She looked so tired and we were all giddy and gawking at her baby. Kyle felt so bad for her. But at least we were smiling at her. Intrusive? Yes. Cruel? No.

There is a great photography company that can do some pretty cute shots of the baby. I'm sure those will cost an arm and a leg, so we'll most likely pass. My digital camera will work fine for me. Gotta make sure to bring waterproof mascara. Don't want to look like a hot-mess in my pictures!

On our way back through to the delivery area Kyle hears a loud "PUSH, PUSH, PUSH!" to the beat of a ticking clock. I think I must have blocked that part out. He was a little white-faced after he heard that commotion. All I could hear was the wonderful shriek of a newborn's first cries. That was great for me. I'm really glad I didn't hear the "PUSH!!!". That would probably have had my nerves on end.

While waiting for an elevator for our herd, Red took a poll to see what everyone was having. We heard, "Girl", "We're having a boy", "We want it to be a boy", etc. Red counted that there were about four or five boys coming. I felt it was polite to ask her what she's having. I got an eye roll and a smug, "we don't know what we're having". I tried to keep the conversation going with, "oh, so you don't plan to find out until he or she is born?". I got a curt reply, "we want it to be a surprise". Her lip even did the snooty partial smile. I ended that conversation right then and there. Kyle said that he swears Red was giving me a dirty look the whole time we were there. Either I didn't notice, or I blocked it out, along with "PUSH". She was a special one, I could tell.

I got a good glimpse of how other new parents-to-be acted. A lot were very mushy. It was a bit over the top for me. We know how you got pregnant, we don't need a reenactment. We were on a hospital tour. It wasn't Disney World. Get a room. You might think I say this because I was jealous. I just don't see what is romantic about sterile hospital equipment and smelly cafeteria food. I know the event will be special and wonderful. I know that it will be scary and difficult. I know that it will be the best day of my life.

I'm really glad we went on the tour. I feel that a lot of my fears about where to go, where to park, and how the heck to we get to a room to give birth, have been put aside. I feel that now that the worry of the unknown is passed for location. Now I just have to prepare myself for the actual labor and delivery. Luckily I have a couple more months to get that situated in my head.