Patience

Yesterday was a milestone for me; after being on bed rest for 8 weeks due to preterm labor contractions, I reached the 9 month mark.  It is truly amazing how God can create a masterpiece in a day, a week, or 9 months.  It feels my heart with gladness and joy to know that I am carrying the most precious miracle inside of me, another human being, a living, breathing soul, a masterpiece from God.  Only three weeks and six days left until my little boy's grand debut's date.  I cannot wait to see what my little guy looks likes, feels like, sounds like.  I cannot wait to hear his first cry, see his first smile, and the look on his daddy's face.  I cannot wait to see the look on Jim's face when he holds his son for the first time.  I'm so excited!

In Sunday school last week, our teacher prayed for patience.  (Thanks, Mr. Jim)  Praying for patience is a dangerous thing because you are literally asking God to give you a circumstance where you will have to practice it.  I have learned to not pray for patience, but ask for peace during times of trials or tribulation.  I have learned my lesson about praying for patience.  Well, this week I have learned to practice patience.  I had a scare on Wednesday, thinking I was going into labor.  False Alarm!  Ever since Wednesday, I have been restless and unable to sleep because any minute now, my little guy can arrive.  (Thanks, Mr. Jim) 

A friend of mind told me recently that God sometimes prepares us in the strangest ways for what is about to come.  Well, I am definitely getting prepared for my little guy...no sleep, worrying about the smallest things, going to the extreme with cleanliness (I've been a neat freak, but this is OVERBOARD), and trying to stay calm around Jim, in laws, and outlaws about this baby. 

I'm not asking for patience, I'm asking for peace...it's a much better feeling! 

Pleasantly Plump? NOT!

Throughout my 35 weeks of pregnancy, I have enjoyed every week.  Yes, every week.  Even the weeks where I laid in the bathroom floor praying to the porcelain god that I could throw up.  Yes, even the weeks when I had uncontrollable contractions that made me worry, I have enjoyed.  Those days are history.  I'm not in love with being pregnant anymore.  In fact, I am down right miserable and it's time to complain. 

At 28 weeks, I was put on an IV pump for contractions.  I had medicine going in me every three minutes and large quantities every four hours.  The IV made my heart speed up and the medicine to help with the heart rate made me sleepy.  Around 34 weeks, I came off all the medicine and my doctor decided to let nature take its course.  Well since I've come off the stupid medicine stupid side effects have taken place.  I itch all the time.  People have told me it's dry skin and just apply more lotion.  Who has dry skin on their tongue, inside of their lips, their cheeks, the palms of their hands or the soles of their feet?  (Well, I have to admit, my heels are a little dry, but that's besides the point.)  I wake myself up itching, along with Jim.  On top of itching, my feet remind me of what my great grandmother's looked like, I have no ankles.  Bye-bye cute pregnant Amber.  Hello miserable, kankled, swollen, and waddling Amber.

I know all of these "gifts" will be exchanged for a remarkable gift, but in the meantime, I'm not pleasantly plump anymore, and just down right miserable. 

Daddy's Home

It's the neatest, unexplainable, most amazing feeling in the world to feel the movement of your unborn baby.  My little guy used to move constantly, punching me, kicking me, and doing somersaults in my belly.  Now that I have five weeks to go, his movement has slowed down quite a bit because he really doesn't have much room to stretch or play.  What I have noticed is that when Jim comes home and sits beside me, our little guy goes crazy.  Evidently, he loves his daddy!  Even at night when I snuggle up to Jim or when Jim puts his hand on my belly, the little guy goes insane with his wiggling and squirming.  I can't quite figure it out yet, but I'm elated that the two of them have already formed a bond before he gets here.  I have to admit, I'm a little jealous that he doesn't show out for me, but will show out for his daddy.  Boys will be boys!

Unsolicited Advice

Have you ever had a time when people think they know so much about what you are going through and they empathize or even sympathize with you?  Have you ever had a time when the more wise and experienced give you advice in which their parents or elders gave them?  What about a time when someone gives you random advice?  I welcome advice and even constructive criticism, but my recent pet peeve has become unsolicited advice.

So I'm new to the whole pregnancy and motherhood thing.  Every new mother is.  I often worry about the things I don't know, and as I told my mom, I'm going to look at this go round as a "trial-and-error" thing.  You never know until you try, right?  Recently, I have come across people who give their opinion on EVERYTHING I say, eat, sit, walk, dress, or do while I am pregnant.  I know that I am carrying precious cargo.  I know my limits.  I know how I feel.  I know what I really shouldn't do.  I get so aggravated when people tell me something over and over, or give their opinion when I really don't want it.  Being pregnant has definitely taught me to be patient, but my patience is running thin on people giving advice when they should keep it to themselves.  I know the right thing to do is be benevolent or amiable and smile, but my fake smiles and fake benevolence is running out.  If I want your opinion, I will ask, otherwise, keep it to yourself! 
(I guess I can always blame my emotions on my hormones!)   

Get a Grip!

I have become my own worse nightmare.  I am becoming one of "those" parents.  You know, the kind that makes you want to say, "Get a grip lady, it's not that bad".  As my nursery is starting to come together, I find myself being overly OCD about cleanliness in the nursery.  I'm a neat freak anyway and don't like germs.  This week I found myself Clorox wiping the blinds, the door handles, and the ceiling fan.  Because we have a lady bug infestation in the house right now, I am constantly sweeping the nursery to get rid of the blasted things.  Seriously, where do lady bugs go after their season has come and gone?  Anyway, today I found myself Clorox wiping the inside of the dresser drawers, the rod the clothes hang on, the clothes hangers, and the shelves that I will putting stuff on, too.

That's not the insane part.  After I wiped everything down, I decided that I needed to start washing and putting up the cute little clothes that Baby Rowland has gotten.  After the cute socks, onesies, jon-jons, and sleepers were washed, I saw a need to iron them because they were a little wrinkled.  Sitting in the floor with the iron, I just shake my head and think, "Oh no, I'm one of 'those' parents!"  Does it get any better?

Should you see me doing something that is really insane, please tell me.  Let me know that I need to lighten up!    

Private Property

I've never understood the fascination people have about touching pregnant bellies.  When my best friend was pregnant, I never once touched her belly.  It's weird.  Ever since my belly has expanded, I have had numerous people come and rub my belly.  Some go to the extent of shaking it a little to see if my little guy will move.  It's different if my mom or Jim wants to touch my baby bump, but they don't touch unless I offer.  I've had people at grocery stores, baby stores, and maternity stores rub my belly. Strangers I've never seen touching me.  Seriously, if I wanted someone to touch my belly, I would wear a shirt that says "Rub Me" or "Touch Here."  As tempting as it may be to touch or rub, my belly is private property.  So HAND'S OFF PEOPLE!  I'm sure I'm not going to have the little pats and rubs when my little guy gets here.

I'm Drowning!

Pregnancy comes with a lot of challenges.  Some deal with nausea, being lethargic, moodiness, stretch marks, swelling, cravings, insomnia, and sleeping too much.  All deal with the inevitable, weight gain.  Each woman is different when it comes to gaining weight.  According to the "experts" the ideal weight gain is 25-30 pounds.  Every woman's anatomy is different, so not all will gain the same amount. 

With me being so petite, I figured my doctor would tell me to gain close to 20 pounds, but I was wrong.  She said that she wouldn't get on to me if I gained up to 40 pounds.  40 pounds?!?  This woman has to be INSANE!  Note, before I became pregnant, I weighed 95 pounds, at 5 foot.  I know 130 may be the ideal weight for some women, but not for a petite person like me.  At 31 weeks, I have only gained 15 pounds, which isn't bad, considering I have a little one growing inside of me.

When I was told that I would be on moderate bed rest, my doctor told me to increase my fluid intake.  Fluids such as juice, tea, or Pepsi doesn't count.  Fluid means water, and only water.  Of course I could spice things up a bit and drink Koolaid, but that's it.  I was told to drink a gallon of water at 22 weeks pregnant.  As hard as that was to master, I did my very best.  With moderate bed rest and contractions still not under control, she increased my daily intake of water to two gallons. Yep, two whole gallons of water per day.  A gallon of water weighs 8.3454 pounds.  Multiply that by two, that's 16.6908 pounds of fluid intake per day.  Multiply nearly 17 pounds of water intake by 12 weeks, that's 1404.0272 pounds of water intake for the remainder of my pregnancy.  No wonder my doctor said 40 pounds was okay, heck, I'm to consume more than a thousand pounds of liquid in 12 weeks! How am I supposed to be on moderate bed rest when I dash to the restroom every three minutes? 

I'll be honest, I cannot drink two gallons of water a day.  The best I can do is a gallon and a half.  Go ahead, try and see if you can do it.  I dare ya!  When this little boy is born, bye-bye water, hello the good stuff!

Newbie to Pregnancy

So, I'm a newbie to pregnancy and parenthood this year.  Jim and I have been married for a little over three years now.  Before we decided to start a family, we wanted to travel as much as possible .  We've been to Aruba, Colorado, all over the South, and South Africa. 

Anyway, the first day of teaching this year, August 9, I found out that Jim and I were expecting.  We didn't know all what was to come with expecting.  We were expecting the unexpected, I guess you could say.  We were so excited, but waited six weeks to tell our parents, and another three to four to tell all of our friends.  We were told that our little bundle of joy was due on April 15, 2011-TAX DAY!!!

The first trimester didn't start out too bad.  I was still going to the gym as usual, running, boxing, and lifting weights.  I ate what I wanted and felt great.  I thought I was going to have an easy pregnancy since I'm healthy, exercised, and ate right.  My "high" of being pregnant, however, went down fast, very fast.  I found myself coming home every day after school and crawling to the couch to fall asleep.  I would sleep from 4:30-7:00 every day.  Jim would wake me up to eat supper, and I would find myself climbing back in bed, shortly thereafter.  I then found myself taking long naps at work, seeing as I had an hour and a half break before I would see students again.  I left a pillow and blanket at work where I could sleep under my desk.  Call me Linus, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do. 

I had not yet told all of my co-workers or students that I was expecting.  One of my students, bless his heart, told me that I was having "unacceptable mood swings" and asked if I was expecting.  I couldn't help but to laugh!  Of course, I had to tell him, and the rest of the class, my news.  Once my students found out, I often found "body guards" escorting me down the hall and down the stairs.  My previous students would come by every day to ask if I needed anything.  Too sweet!

Well, I thought that the sleepiness was the only pregnant problem I had, oh how I was wrong.  I found myself gagging at everything in the grocery store, the cabinet and refrigerator.  Watching certain commercials on TV even made me sick.  Often nights, I would lie in front of the toilet, praying that I could get sick.  What's worse than throwing up?  The feeling of needing to all day and can't.  I found that eating pickles and bread settled my stomach. 

As the nauseated lethargic era passed, I found that I enjoyed being pregnant.  My skin cleared up, my hair thickened up, and I smiled all the time.  I guess you could say I had a pregnant glow.  I had comments on how good I looked and that I was carrying myself very well.  Being so petite, I didn't actually start showing until around 20 weeks.  Out of no where, POOF, I have a baby bump.  Before my bump arrived, I could feel the baby moving around.  It felt like tiny bubbles popping in my belly.  Along with my 20 week bump that appeared, we found out that we were having a boy.

20 weeks, feeling great and getting bigger by the day.  Life was great, until 22 weeks hit.  I was driving to work and started hurting really bad.  I left a message with my doctor and texted a friend who recently had a baby and she said it sounded like I was having contractions.  I hoped she wasn't right, but she was.  I was admitted into the hospital and was given fluids and a shot of terbutaline.  After 6 hours or so of observation, the hospital released me and told me to take it easy for the next couple of days.  Bed rest?  What?  This can't be happening!  It was on Thursday, I figured what's the harm in a long weekend?

I went back to work, being very attentive to how I felt and had to "take it easy" yet a week after my first episode.  I didn't understand what was going on.  I did everything the doctor told me to do and here I was, having to take things easy.  I was even jealous of a co-worker; she and I are 10 days apart and she hasn't had any problems.

A couple of weeks past, and I noticed that I was having contractions on a regular basis.  They weren't painful, but uncomfortable.  I told my doctor and she wanted to observe me over night in the hospital, just to see what was going on.  At 28 week, scared to death, I was laying in a hospital bed, not knowing what to expect.  After my observation was complete, my doctor found that it was in my best interest to place me on a terbutaline pump until 34 weeks.  She also recommended that I not return to work for a week until I got adjusted to the pump.

A week went by, I was placed on the pump, and was adjusting to monitoring and taking it easy.  I found myself in the hospital once again due to contractions.  After monitoring for a couple of hours, they released me.  My doctor then decided that I didn't need to go back to work.  My contractions had spun out of control and was put on bed rest until the remainder of my pregnancy.  Taking it easy wasn't too bad, but bed rest for 12 more weeks?  That was insane.

So, here I am, 30 weeks and 6 days into my pregnancy and on bed rest.  9 weeks and 1 day to go until the little squirt is here, and 3 weeks and 1 day until I'm off of this crazy pump.  

Things I have learned thus far:

• I'm not in control, but God is!
• I have the most WONDERFUL husband! 
• Rest while I can
• Learn to accept help