Is it Praise or Encouragement

In this new wave of parenting we're told not to praise our kids saying good job or yay  good for you when they do something right. Really, it's something that we all do. I can't help but do what I know it was my parents did. This is a new era, perhaps he wouldn't feel lied to like the rest of the nineties kids like me do. But was I really lied to? I have a good job, I have a house, I'm not drowning in student debt , I have a child and I'm married.
Back to raising said child. What else am I supposed to say, nothing? Even if I am telling him that he's doing a good job, doesn't that at least reinforce he's doing what he's supposed to do. Or would he just figure that out on his own? Sure I could read the umpteen blogs on the matter but really, I don't care what other people think or what the "experts" say. Why wouldn't doing what works for me apply on this matter? Maybe I want him to grow up believing he can be anything so maybe he can be more fearless than I was, which really, when came to change, I wasn't very fearless. He's growing up in a whole new world. While I ended up being overwhelmed with the options maybe he'll be more directed in what he wants to do.

What No One Tells You About – Showering, you sociopath, you.

              It wasn’t something I really thought about that much, how am I going to shower once the baby is here? Didn’t cross my mind once. How do put a baby to bed? How will I know what he needs? How do I take care of a baby? Those things plagued my mind for weeks before my son’s arrival, but showering, no didn’t cross my mind. I like being clean but I don’t really like actually taking a shower. It’s a very weird dichotomy I know. Once I was home from the hospital I figured I would shower while my husband cared for the baby. Unfortunately in the beginning this was a difficult thing for my husband to do because my son is very much a mama’s boy, meaning that if he got upset, I was the only one who made it better. This was a major source of frustration for my husband and me.

In the first few weeks I was lucky to shower once a week, disgusting I know. I wasn’t thrilled about it, like I said I don’t like to be stinky, but what was I going to do? Sure my son took 2-3 hour naps during the day but it wasn’t something that I thought about doing. If I did think about it, I filled with dread. What if he wakes up? What if he fusses his way out of his swing and hurts himself. Better to be safe than sorry. (Yes I’m one of those mom’s who’s relied on the swing to get him to sleep through the night and doesn’t sleep in his crib yet). Eventually I got brave and would jump in the shower quickly hoping he wouldn’t wake up when I was in there. Only a small handful of times have I been successful with this venture. Eventually as he got a little bit older he would fall asleep on his nursing pillow on the couch and I would take my chances hoping he wouldn’t wake up. Even then I had such anxiety through my whole shower, what if he rolls off the boppy onto the floor? What if something else happens? What, I had no idea.

            Several times I’ve taken a 20 minute or even 10 minute shower, once the dripping ceases I hear his wailing, quickly toweling myself and run to his side. It makes me feel like a sociopath, how can I be so inconsiderate to shower and leave you unattended?! Hopefully you can hear the silliness in that sentence. Though it’s a hygienic need to be freshly showered at least every other day, I still feel horrible when I find him all clammy and red. I know that I’m not a sociopath, I’m a mom, I’m doing the best I can. I NEED a shower.

            Things improved when my son was about 2 1/2 to 3 months old I could sit him in his little chair in the bathroom while I showered. I’d set my ipod up close to him so he could hear some music. Sliding the door open to check on him a few times, I’d see a content baby eating his hand, perfect. I don’t feel like a horrible mom and you’re not by yourself. This is great. I eventually got on track showering regularly but really, a heads up would have been nice.

The 10th month struggle

Tomorrow I will be 39 weeks pregnant. In my head I'm two weeks past when I was due. My doctor had hoped for my sake that my son would be born early because we found out at 30 weeks that his head was in the 97 percentile for size. That's not something a first time mom really wants to hear. I held onto the idea that he could be born early, in fact since I was finishing up my bachelors degree and my dad was getting married the same week, I was thinking I needed to relax so he didn't come too early. As if I really had any control of it at all. Though I did think the stress would send me into labor sooner. I was wrong.

The "due date" my doctor and I had set came and went. That week at my appointment I didn't have any further progress from the week before. I got in my car and cried. I felt like he would never come. I knew that was silly because clearly he can't stay in there forever and he will come out. In this last month though, it's really hard to reconcile the knowledge and the feeling. Maybe it's a first time mom thing, I don't know, but it's something I think one must experience to understand. The only encouraging news I had after this appointment was that I could be induced when I was a week over. Granted some people may gasp at having to wait that long but I understand why. They don't want to push induction sooner since if it doesn't take and something happens where I would have to have a C section. While I've made peace with the possibility of having to have a C section, it would be nice if I didn't have to simply because they tried to induce me too soon.

Everyone says to enjoy this time since once the baby is here everything will have been changed forever. That's easy for people to say. You have what feels like a cement cantaloupe bearing down on your pelvic bones night and day and tell me that you're "enjoying" the time before the baby gets here. It would be one thing if I had a surrogate and I could drink or eat whatever I wanted before the baby got here. Hell it would be great to have crazy sex and be comfortable enough to sleep in, but when you're actually pregnant you can't drink or eat whatever you want and sometimes sex isn't very comfortable, especially at this point and forget enjoying sleep.

Yesterday I made it my goal to get him to come out. I didn't try every trick in the book but I did a few. I had a spicy dressing on my salad, I walked all over Babies R Us with my husband finishing the registry shopping, and I even tried nipple massage. Nothing worked. The spicy dressing had no effect at all. The walking just gave me excruciating pelvic pain that made me cry every time I moved or tried to walk. I  barely contracted with the nipple massage.  He's just not ready.

I've been saying that for the last few days. He's just not ready to come out. As bad is my singing is when I'm in the car I'm a bit surprised he doesn't try to get away from me and come out. Otherwise all I can figure is that he's very happy in his cushioned womb. In between frustrated tears and meltdowns I try to remember this and not be so upset. I know he will come out.  Perhaps not knowing when is what makes it so hard. Maybe it's the physical discomfort. Maybe it's both.

I have found this to be, by far, the most difficult month of my pregnancy. It's been chock full of emotions and disappointment, not to mention stress and frustration. I really have to thank my husband for hanging in there with me. I've cried about everything from disappointment that he didn't come 3 weeks early to pelvic pain so bad I asked him to put my legs on the couch for me. He's really been very helpful and encouraging during this very difficult month. I know it's hard for him to wait too. He's been such great support to me and I'm sure he'll be great in the delivery room too, once we actually get there.

The Fourth Chapter: Waiting.

What I always had a hard time grasping about my friends' pregnancies was the end, the anxiety they described waiting for the baby to come. I wasn't sure if this was an anxiety like I had experienced before with an upset stomach and my thoughts racing. Being pregnant myself, I realize it's nothing like that. For me personally I've found that it's this anxious hope that each practice contraction will turn into something stronger and more painful. Yes at this point in pregnancy you want those painful contractions. What had actually occurred to me the other day is how many stages of waiting there are when you're at the end of your pregnancy.

Stage 1) Actual contractions.
As an expectant mother you hope for contractions that feel more painful than the mild contractions you've experienced where your stomach is just hard and slightly uncomfortable. You may even hope for cramps. Once these real and painful contractions start to happen, there's yet another stage of waiting.

Stage 2) Real labor.
You have to wait to see if these contractions become stronger and come consistently. Otherwise you're likely experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions. They're painful but they're irregular and don't get stronger. Great, because I want to keep waiting.

Stage 3) Your contractions are coming at regular intervals, they're strong and painful! Now it's time to go to the hospital! You're half way there!
Now I do want to mention that if you're one of the supposed 8% who's water breaks, you skip stages 1 & 2 and go straight to this stage when it's time to go the hospital.

Stage 4) Labor in the hospital.
I've been trying to wrap my mind around the fact that labor is long. It's long waiting before you go into the hospital (unless your water breaks) and it's a long time in the hospital waiting to dilate, get your epidural (if that's what you decided to do and depending on when you want it) and pushing. Which brings me to my next stage.

Pushing!
Yeah you don't actually push for say 5-10 minutes (unless maybe this is your second or third or fourth child etc) and then get to hear that cry and hold your amazingly perfect baby in your arms. No, you can push anywhere from 30 minutes to 2 hours, if not longer. WHAT?! Who in the HELL decided that was OK? Well no one but that's just how it is.
[side note: It's very irritating that Hollywood has given us these unreal expectations about labor and delivery. However, it is Hollywood and isn't everything supposed to be better there? Besides this isn't about Hollywood.]

What I'm learning is that this is an practice in patience, knowing that your baby will come when he or she is ready. Obviously as soon to be moms or those who have done this before, we think we know when that would be best. Well, we don't get a say in that, just like we don't get a 100% say in what our kids will be like.

It really doesn't help either with all kinds of old wives tales saying to have sex, eat spicy food, get a pedicure (it's thought that there are trigger points in the feet that will start labor), or whatever you've heard that will get labor to start. Mine was pressure changes that come with storms and new or full moon. So, of course, when I saw thunderstorms and a new moon together one week I was thinking, yes this is it! He's going to come on one of those days. And of course the rain and storming comes and nothing changes other than having to pee three times that night instead of two.

Even though deep down I knew that it was really just wishful thinking that he would come because of the rain or a new moon, it was still disappointing to think I knew something and find out that I was wrong.

I think this really hits me hardest because I used think I had a 6th sense about knowing things. That is until I got pregnant. I was totally convinced through the entire first half of my pregnancy that I was having a girl. Totally convinced, despite the fact that the majority of babies born in my husband's side of the family were boys, no way, it's a girl.
I know.
I didn't know.
I was wrong, it's a boy.

I spent the next few hours bawling my eyes out. It wasn't that I didn't want a boy, it was that I had been wrong. I didn't have a 6th sense knowing things anymore. I was totally wrong, obviously I had a 50/50 chance so it wasn't like picking winning lottery numbers but when you're pregnant you think, I'm a mom, I know things. No, not yet you don't. Or I thought because  I was always so in-tune with my body that I would know what sex the baby was. WRONG. I freely admitted to the world that I was wrong and my husband was right. Which really, he's right about most things, so in a way it worked out because I learned to trust him more. However, it was still very disheartening.

Now that the pregnancy is nearing the end I'm hopeful about knowing what's going on once more, but what's the point? No one I know has said, oh he's coming on this day, or I'm hoping he's coming on this day and been right, so why should I be the first one?

My cousin had her baby 6 months before I was due and I asked her how she made it through this last month. Her advice, stay busy. I knew she was right, but damnit I don't want to!  I want to be in labor I want to be busy with that! Why bother planning things?! My baby is coming! Yeah, he could come tomorrow and he could come in two weeks. So settle in, pop Plants Vs. Zombies: Garden Warefare in the Xbox and chill out. May as well settle in while I wait.