"The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life."- Richard David Bach
Friday, September 14, 2012
Little Bit of This and That
I've fallen by the wayside with my weekly, even semi daily blogs. No excuse why. Maybe because I'm busy? Maybe because my life at this very moment is too boring to document? Regardless of my reason, I'm here this early morning with my thoughts. No pictures this time, just a little bit of this and that.
We have a name for our baby!! Oh goodness! It was rough, but Steve and I have decided on what to call Boy Hayes.
We were on our way up to Tamarack for our overnight date when I put the pressure on him. I told him we needed to get this boy named. I wasn't going to be "that mom" who took an un-named baby home from the hospital.
So as my husband was rounding the unknownst corner of our destination; me carsick at this point, we stumbled upon his name. And even his middle name too!!
For now, even to our family, kids included, he will simply be called "Baby D." Unless my husband "happens" to slip to Grandma Collie or to the kids, our name will be under wraps until his big arrival.
Which leads me to discuss that topic.
I have ALWAYS been against women having any form of inductions when it came to delivering her baby. Unless it was medically necessary and her or her child's life was going to be at risk. Getting to choose the day your child is born simply because you want to? Or because your Dr. will be out of town? Or better yet, because it's just easier on your schedule? Ugh, give me a flippin' break here moms!
Okay, I'm back....I had to wipe my mouth. Yeah, I was just eating a little something. Nothing big. Just my words...that's all.
I have decided to be "that mom." Yep, I'm going to do it. Baby D is scheduled to arrive December 28th. Too close to Christmas for this gal right here. Too close to chaos in this house. And too close to not knowing what his arrival will do to me mentally. So I've decided to be induced on the 21st.
I WAS completely against any form of induction until I spoke with a gal who has had three of them. She just so happens to be the kids' pediatric nurse. While in the Dr.'s office last month, she explained to me how wonderful it was. We also happen to have the same incredible, awesome Dr. (kudos to Dr. Hodges...you ROCK) She explained how smoothly everything went, she had childcare for her other kids, she wasn't stressed, and if having to make the same choice again, she'd go for it! I mean come on...the thought of walking into the hospital on a Friday morning at 7am, having your water broken, epidural in place (aka: piece of paradise) and then holding your precious cargo by lunchtime? Who wouldn't dream of that scenario?
Problems associated with my new found choice? Well since this being my fifth delivery and I have yet to have any form of complications (knock on wood, knock on wood) my chances of having anything go awry are very, very low.
Now, the only thing that would put a Craftsman wrench in the deal, would be if Baby D comes early and strictly on his own. Hmmm, he wouldn't think of such a thing.
As far as my weight gain. Yes, I feel compelled to discuss this topic once again. I'm up 20 pounds already. And I still have 13 weeks to go. They say at this point you gain a pound a week. Add 13 more pounds to my 20 and 33 overall pounds sounds pretty darn good. Yeah, if you're getting some exercise along with it maybe! But this gal is beyond sedentary.
The last two evenings I have ventured out into our neighborhood to take a walk. No, more of a stroll. I say stroll because a walk would make me sound more physically fit, which I am currently not physical nor fit. After my stroll (30/40 minutes) I can barely make it into the house. My lower back and butt cheeks are throbbing, aching, and in need of a massues' strong hands to remedy my pain. So I usually head into the house and straight for the couch, where my pain seems to get worse. Or better yet, I head to the fridge or pantry and gorge. It's strictly emotional eating at that point. I'm so distraught over being so out of shape and whale-ish, I can't handle it. A bowl of cereal, a cookie, or even chocolate milk fixes my worries. Then I crawl into bed an hour later and wonder why I feel whale-ish. And the cycle continues.