Ess-En-Oh-Double-U.

Best Two Weeks, Ever.

I almost feel like I should explain myself after my last post. But I don't think I will.
I had a c-section, and it was my choice, not just lack of info, and it's over and I've been healing famously. And I'd happily tell you all about it if you asked...the why's and what-for's. I just don't really feel like delving into it all again in blog-post-form at the moment. And I get to do just exactly what I want on this here bloggity blog...so there. Ha.

I don't really know how to explain why the past two weeks have been SO awesome. There's been all sorts of reasons for them not to be awesome. But I really think there's got to be something about the arrival of a brand new life...a spirit so fresh from the presence of our Father in Heaven...that could buoy up even the lowest of spirits in the hardest of times. Something about how Baby-Rae likes to shove her little finger into her little brother's tightly clenched fist, and just stand there "holding" his hand. Something about how she just can't restrain herself from giving him kisses whenever she sees him. Something about watching a daddy and his new baby snuggle up on the couch together for a snooze. Something about that baby smell...the smell of my baby...that I get to breathe in every time I cuddle him close.

And there's something about having the man I love, the daughter I adore, and the son I couldn't imagine living without....close enough to hold all at once....that makes my heart explode into a million pieces, like fireworks.

Definitely the best two weeks, ever.

Worst Friday, Ever.

I beg your pardon as I use this blog post for some major catharsis. Really, forgive me. It's pretty pitiful.

Don't ask me why I was referred to an OB/GYN specialist in my 39th week. I'm pretty sure that if it's supposed to happen, it's supposed to happen before then. In fact, my family doctor had me convinced that she was going to be the one delivering, the way she spoke about my upcoming delivery and by the pictures of her in hospital garb with new and wrinkly babies all over the walls in the clinic. Old pictures? An elaborate hoax? Either way, I was duped.

Soooo....when she told me that I had an appointment with the ObGyn that week, I was a little baffled. And slightly confused. But I went with it, putting together the pieces that no, my doctor was not delivering, and yes, I still needed to see the obstetrician...at least once(?) before she delivered my baby. Fabulous.

I'm sitting in the small room of the obstetrics clinic, waiting for my new doc...with Baby-Rae in tow, I might add, who's opening all the cupboard doors she can find....and the nurse pops her head back in and asks if I have my operation report from my previous C-section. Umm..nope, I sure don't. Does my family doctor? I have no reason to think so...she's never asked me enough information to lead me to believe she might have requested the record from the hospital where I had the operation. Oh, I really need that? The Ob/Gyn enters to explain why. She can't "counsel me appropriately" without it. Great. Okay, I'll wait out in the waiting room again while they see if they can fax away for it and get it in ASAP. No, I've got nothing pressing as far as plans, just a restless 15.5 month old. Thank heavens they have an awesome slide in the waiting area that she can go up and down five hundred times by herself whilst I watch.

An hour later. Baby-Rae's just about had it. She's ready for a nap. They haven't gotten any info back from the hospital yet, and I was right about my family doctor not having it either. What should they do with me? The doctor says she'll visit with me for a bit and "do the best she can" without that information. Great.

In detail, she explains that she needs to know what kind of incision they made in my uterus in the previous c-section in order to "counsel" me as to whether or not it's safe to deliver naturally. What? There's a possibility that I might not be able to? News to me. Well, mostly. And bad news, at that. She says that if they had to "T" the incision at all, she can't counsel me to labour...because the chances of my uterus rupturing in labour are high. When she hears about Baby-Rae's delivery, she says that there's a very real possibility that they might have (T'd the incision, that is), because she was so far down the birth canal before she went into distress and had to be delivered by emergency c-section. In the next few sentences, she tells me that without that information, they have to be safe and assume I'll need a repeat section... She says "they" referring to obstetricians in general, because she continues to make it clear that no doctor in their right mind would just let me go ahead with a labour without knowing the details she's talking about. And I feel like I've just been kicked out of a moving car. No wits, no wind left.

So... we just need to get the info and they'll see everything's okay for me to go ahead with a natural delivery, right? Not so fast. She's wanting to get me in to have a c-section right away. If I went into labour spontaneously, I would have to have an emergency C-section anyway...because of the lack of info...and an emergency c-section presents more risks...including the fact that I might have to go completely under for speed's sake...and miss the first moments of my baby's life. I added the last part in my head. My due date is coming up too quick for her comfort. She wants to schedule me for Monday or Tuesday. She asks if I "have my heart set on delivering naturally." Um, heck yes. To have the opportunity to go through labour with my D-Hubby which is such an incredible bonding experience, to be able to recuperate quickly and avoid weeks of pain and minimal movement, to be able to pick up my Baby-Rae and not just my itty bitty baby, and to let my body just do what it was made to do: just a few of the many reasons I had my heart set on it being different this time. But all she's getting out of me is a resounding yes. She offers me some sliver of hope when she tells me that if we get the information in time,  then we can always cancel the section. Yes! I ask if we can schedule as far out as possible so the chances of the report arriving before said date are more likely. I can tell she's uncomfortable with anything beyond Monday or Tuesday...doesn't want me going into labour before then. The office schedules my section for Monday afternoon. I wish I were more with-it to protest, but I'm just numb and frustrated. No one's around the hospital on the weekend to fax anything back to us, so my only hope is that the report shows up Monday morning. That's the only chance I get. Everyone else around me is blaming someone else for this mess so I don't have to. My doctor that should have referred me earlier so we could request the information sooner is the one who gets the brunt of it.

On the way home, I buy a caramel Oreo McFlurry. And an extra-large fries. And eat my feelings.

I get home to the phone ringing. Could it be? They've gotten it already!? Nope.
The hospital has to see me THAT afternoon. As soon as I can possibly get there. They usually are given more time to schedule someone for a pre-assessment for a c-section. They've only got this afternoon. That's the only chance they get to get me prepped for my impending operation on Monday. Luckily Darren is on his way home and can watch a finally-napping Baby-Rae. Off I go to be assessed. And while the nurse pops in and out to get various information from me, I can't help but let the tears spill over a little bit. She's confused, I can tell. All the paperwork she has me read over and sign is referring to this as an elective c-section. And I feel like I elected to have it about as much as I would choose to have someone poke me in the eye.

The whole time I'm sitting on that sterile white bed, I'm trying to remind myself that it's not that big of a deal. The pros are that I would know when I'm having the baby...a bonus for my visiting Mama who would know exactly when and why she's needed. It would be a relaxed operation, not rushed and panicked, like my last one. I'd be having a baby, for heaven's sake! My sweet little karate-kid would be in my arms so soon! And I suddenly feel selfish for being so inflexible when there are so many out there who would take a baby anyway they possibly could. I try to tell myself all these things, but I'm still on the verge of all-out bawling. And still trying to awkwardly wipe my face dry every time the nurse comes back in and looks confused again. I blame hormones. They're not especially famous for giving someone great perspective. Maybe later I'll be able to remind myself of all of these things with a little more success. Maybe after I have a beautiful little baby in my arms to snuggle and smell.

I manage to make it home in one piece. D-Hubby had to leave town for the weekend, and was already making the trip much later than planned. I managed to squeeze in a few minutes of falling apart in his arms and him helping me feel a bit better before the demands of the weekend whisked him away with our only car. And with me stuck with a Sunday doctor's appointment at the very time when almost everyone I know is in church. I'm trying to keep from collecting too many pity-me's but those dang hormones are making it tough. I bury myself in Baby-Rae and we finish out a fun evening together. A sweet note to end a bitter day.

I know that whatever happens, it'll be okay. At least, I know that in my head. My heart will listen up soon, I'm sure. As soon as those hormones ebb a little.

And next time I have a baby--provided that all is okay with incisions and such--I'm getting a midwife.
For. Sure.

An October Day.

I am so thankful for warm autumn days. They make the impending winter seem manageable, do-able somehow. If only because I can walk outside without a coat in the middle of October. Though that may just be because I'm pregnant and hot. Haha.

I'm thankful for a D-Hubby who likes to takes pictures. 

All. The. Time.

(A favourite Sunday afternoon family pastime, in fact.)

And thankful that we soon get a new baby-sized model around the house for him to take pictures of. His favourite model, his Baby-Rae, reaches her posing limit pretty quick these days. I think he's looking forward to one that sits still for a second.

Diapers of Cloth.

"They're better for your baby's bum."
"They stink up your house"
"They still cost the same anyways, because it's extra laundry"
"They save you money and are better for the environment"
"What a hassle! So much extra work!"
"SOOO awesome! Just find your groove, your routine, and you'll be fine!"
And.
So.
On.

I can't even count the varied opinions I've heard on the topic over the past couple months...as I've researched making the plunge into the cloth diapering world.
Actually, for the most part, it seems that people think well of cloth diapering...just steer clear of it for some reason or another... reasons usually delivered either self-righteously, like they were trying to win a war..("yeah, they're great and all, but it's not like it's worth the hassle. It's not worth the hassle, ya hear!?"). or with darting eyes, like they were trying to rationalize stealing a chocolate bar from the gas station.

Kind of strange.

My look into it hasn't been all that objective, in all honesty: I reeeeally wanted to try it, and had pretty much decided that I was going to do it...I just needed the final convincing nudge and the know-how to go ahead with it. I wanted...and still want...to blame my inner flower-child for the drive towards a practice that promotes a cleaner earth. I grew up in the Land of Tree-Huggers and have a wide, green streak in me...
...BUT...
I couldn't even tout that as my main reason for wanting cloth diapering to work for me. There's another little bum entering my world soon...and two kids in diapers is an extra 100ish dollars a month, an amount that could be hacked to a quarter of that, at least!....if I used cloth.

So my big reason is not as noble as I wish it were.
(sigh.)
Tree-huggers everywhere are disappointed in me, I know.

And although the greeeen thing does make me feel good about doing it, I am pretty sure that it would not have been enough to keep me sticking with it through my first few weeks of trying it out. My determination to save the money, however....
As per my frugal reasoning, I went with the cheapest option...the flat, prefold diapers. I got a stellar deal on them and some covers that had never been used, and I figured that I'd start with the nitty gritty basics of all cloth diapers.

At the beginning, diaper changes took way too long for mine or Baby-Rae's liking...and I could never get the diapers completely dry in in dryer or hang-drying them inside...and it did kind of smell sometimes...and I had to change her more often than with disposables....and Baby-Rae wasn't sure how she felt about all this bulk all-of-the-sudden that she was lugging around on her bum and between her legs, and not being able to move quite the same as before....and D-Hubby was still mighty skeptical, so I was flying solo on this experiment.

All a little challenging.

But I was bound and determined to give it my all. Luckily, I survived.
I've since gotten much faster at changing, thanks to practice...we've had some awesome weather lately...weather that lets me dry diapers on the clothesline in our backyard, in the sunshine and breeze that gets them awesomely dry...and I've figured out how long diapers need to actually get dry if they're in the dryer....and I've figured out the smell situation...and I've gotten used to changing her more often...and learned different folds that aren't so bulky that she moves around in just as freely as a trim little disposable...and D-Hubby may not be comfortable changing those cloth diapers on his own, but he's more supportive of my efforts....and I've hit my stride with my laundry routine for keeping them washed and ready to go. And I'm feeling good about it all. Good, good, good.

We got off to a bumpy start, those cloth diapers and I. But now, I think we're finally friends. If anyone asked, I would tell them that...hands down...disposables are just easier. But if you're looking for a little challenge, and to save lots of dollars, and to appease your inner tree-hugger that just looooves some good green action...then go for it, with all you've got.
Now, it's plain ol' fun. I've acquired a new skill and I'm saving my family money. I'm doing good by the earth, and by my babies' bums. And who's excited for the added bonus of babies likely potty training earlier? I am!
I haven't sworn off disposables 100% yet, I'm not that brave. Vacations and lengthy outings are disposables' territory. Maybe someday. But until then, I'll enjoy my new-found groove of cloth diapering 90% of the time.

...And did I mention that Baby-Rae might potty train sooner as a result?

P.S. A while back I found this website that advertised patterns for making your own pads...like feminine pads...that you could wash and re-use time and again.
I think I'll be drawing the line at those, thank you.
But that's just me. Thoughts?

My Beef.

Alright. Who's teaching my kid around here?

Like, how to dip her little pieces of grilled cheese sandwich into the dime-sized amount of ketchup I put on her plate, just to see what she'd do about it. Suspicious: she knew exactly what to do about it.

And how she knew exactly what to do when I put the laundry basket under the dryer door and opened it. She walked right over and started shoving clothes from the dryer into the basket. Well, I never...

And who, might I ask, taught her how to pick up her baby so gently, hold it up on her shoulder, and pat-rub its back in that heart-melting way? Or go sit beside the bed with her hands folded and head bowed, talking quietly until someone says amen?

Whoever you are....thanks. I appreciate it. Really.
While you're at it, do you think you could teach her not to scream like a banshee when she's not getting what she wants? My head just might explode soon.

Otherwise, I think I'll take it from here, thankyouverymuch.

Ode to D-Hubby, 2 Years Mine.

This past Sunday was our second anniversary! Ya-hoo! 

And I am warning you riiight now that this post is downright mushy. No way around it. Just have to barf it up. ...Just be glad our anniversary is only once a year...

So...two years.

And it's weird. Because it doesn't feel like it's been that long...and at the same time, feels like we've lived three lifetimes since then. Maybe it's because we have lived Baby-Rae's whole lifetime since then...or maybe it's because we've moved three times. Or fell in love all over again more times than I can count. Interesting fact: did you know, that out of the 24 months we've been married, I've been NON-pregnant for a mere 7.5 months??? Let's give D-Hubby a big round of applause for living with a pretty much constantly pregnant wife for the past two years...seriously.

If I even tried to describe my D-Hubby, I couldn't. I think it's one of the things I love most about him...I can never quite seem to figure him out...and can still read him like a book at the same time. I tease him often about how nobody taught him how to talk to a woman...because this man of mine is always just saying exactly what's on his mind. He doesn't really know how to "soften" his words or say things "in a different way" (women, everywhere, know exactly what I mean. Ha!)... He just doesn't know how to be anybody but himself. 

And I love it. 

Because what I get is pure, unaffected him, 100% of the time. It's always real. And I always know how he actually feels about the outfit I'm wearing... :) Sometimes, when I'm feeling especially female, he'll say something that I could totally take in the wrong way. And when I stop him and ask if he could please say that in a different way, he gets it. We both get it. We both laugh about it. And he tries again, for me. 

And sometimes, when he tells me what he thinks about my hair and I tell him what he actually needs to say to make me smile, he says it. Rolls his eyes, maybe. :) But says it...honey, you look good not matter what your hair is doing...for me.

I love that he's not a team-sports fanatic. Or a video-game guru. Even though sometimes I think he wishes he were at least one or the other, for the sake of conversation with other man-folk. But he looooves him some mountains. And all that comes with it...the camping, the hiking, the climbing...the adventure. He loves photography. And he loves to create. Monotony bores him, and I'm glad...because he loves rearranging the furniture as often as I do. He's always looking for something new to learn, a new skill to acquire, a new way to do what he's already done.

He's so silly. And so serious. He drives me nuts. And makes me laugh. He is always a surprise. And he is a phenomenal father.

I sure love my sweet D-Hubby.