Dear Baby M

Dear Baby M,

Right now I'm on self-imposed bed rest. I have a cold so I have Kleenex stuffed up my nose, a tub of Vaseline next to me, and each cough worries me that I'm going to set off labor.

You're two days overdue, and we are now in the danger zone. If you decide to arrive now, I will miss my birthday party. Who plans a birthday party for the week of their due date anyway??

Your dad is being a busy bee in the basement. We have a musician coming to play in our backyard tomorrow night and he has a few humble green room requests so your dad is making sure the guest room is all set for him. I love when your dad really takes on a project, because he does things with such care and precision.

I have been a maniac this week. I have been praying and begging for labor, have cried each day that I dropped Maxwell off at Nana's, cried in the shower at the discomfort of my body, cried in the middle of the night as my stomach gets Charlie-horse cramps....then, your due date came and went, and I went from feeling hopeless to feeling invigorated. I'm sure your dad was happy to see that crazy train park. I had a great appointment with my midwife and we made an induction plan for this weekend. The sun kept shining on our backyard and I started to realize that still being pregnant was now a blessing and not a punishment.

I tell ya...the final moments of pregnancy are not pretty for me. I'm a disaster. Bless my village (your dad, Britt, and Jocey) who just know what needs to be done and know how to somewhat manage me and my brain. 

So now, I lay on this couch, propped up by a million pillows, and I wait. I think good thoughts and hope that each cramp is just because of how I'm laying and not a sign of labor.

I remember that a beautiful baby boy is on his way and I am so lucky to have this life and these "problems". Tomorrow all of my best friends will be in my backyard  enjoying a musician who's music has framed my 20's. Life is so good. No matter what.

So little guy, the story of your birth is already interesting! Thanks for keeping us on our toes. If this is an indication of your personality, well shoot-I can't wait! I love you so much already. Now just stay cozy until tomorrow night, then there are a few people who want to meet you 😘

Love,

Mom

Public Service Announcement: This is what 39 weeks pregnant looks like

On Saturday as I ran errands, every salesperson or store employee I encountered had something to say about my body. Most were pleasant and offered congratulations or their blessings, which was wonderful.

However.

Two notable comments make me feel like I owe it to the community of future pregnant women to share this PSA:

This is what 39 weeks pregnant looks like.

No, I'm not having twins. This is what 39 weeks pregnant looks like.

No, I'm not carrying a watermelon. This is what it looks like when you are carrying a fully developed human baby inside of your body.

I understand that all women carry differently and some don't even look that pregnant throughout the 40 weeks. But for those of us who look pregnant, take note. There is nothing abnormal going on, nothing to find an explanation for: this is what 39 weeks pregnant looks like.

Please share the word and for the love of God, stop making dumb comments. Do you really want to be the person who makes an emotionally fragile, extremely pregnant woman cry? Probably not. If you MUST comment, it's acceptable to say you look amazing and tell her congratulations. No need to try out new jokes or lines. 

Got it?!?! Great. 

Pay-it-forward backfire and birth experience expectations (subtitle: I'm annoying)

We pay Max's babysitter in cold hard cash, and so whenever I need to break a $20 to give her correct change, I hit up Starbucks.  Today, I needed change, so I headed to my trusty drive-thru. When I got up to the window, the barista told me that the car in front of me had paid for mine. "Awwww," I told her, "that's never happened to me before!" Then I realized I still needed to break my $20.  Ashley-panic set in: Do I just ask her to break it? Do I pay for the car behind me? What if they ordered a crap ton of junk? I needed to break my $20 with something for less than $5, otherwise my whole system was ruined and I'd have to get more cash out (which by the way, I lost my debit card, so I'd have to actually waddle in to a bank and have a conversation with a human). I didn't have much time to debate this. I went ahead and forced myself to "pay-it-forward" and felt a wave of relief as she told me that their total was $5.29. I fished $.29 out of my wallet and then felt like crying as I drove away, for the following reasons:

1. I shouldn't have to force myself to pay it forward, I should just want to pay it forward
2. I am dramatic and this annoys me
3. I am losing my ability to cope with daily activities and this annoys me

I know I only have two weeks left of walking around like a python that just ate. I know there are much bigger problems in the world than my physical discomfort and my lack of coping skills. But I am consumed by thoughts of inadequacy and annoyance, and I just want to get to the part where I am holding a sweet newborn and they're presenting me with my certificate of honor for most dignified birth experience of 2015.

To add to my crockpot of emotions, I also am back-peddling on this baby's name - I don't know if I will ever be able to say his name showing possession and not question myself (did I say that right??) "That's Miles's".  Errrrmmm?!?!  Just as I was driving today, before the pay-it-forward incident, I pretended to officially decide that his name is actually Mayer.  But who am I kidding, I am not in any kind of position to be making lifetime decisions at this point. Does anyone have any insight? I really am all ears.

In addition, my midwife called to tell me I am GBS+, which I know, I knowwwwww, is not a huge deal, but will require 4 hours of antibiotics before he's born to be fully effective, otherwise he'll have to be monitored for 48 hours after. According to my birth fantasy, I will not be at the hospital for 4 hours before he's born, so that does not work for me!!  (I actually plan to be in the parking lot of the Pepsi Center, having just left a life-changing Garth Brooks concert. Perhaps I can start carrying a few vials of penicillin around in my purse just in case?) I think this gives me the most sadness because when Max was born, he wasn't instantly placed on my chest in a bloody mess.  They had to take him away and check him out, so it was really like 30 minutes before we actually got a good look at him. I want this next experience to be dreamy and magical and make up for all that. I worry that this GBS+ situation will add a new complication and my dream of my sports bra being ruined from snuggling a messy baby won't get to come true.

I have read of women who mourn their birth experience, and I'm totally setting myself up for that to happen again.  But come on, I am with my brain all day. How do I not let it wander into the what-ifs and the fantasylands??

The last month of pregnancy, women should be allowed to sit at home in seclusion to watch Netflix and wash baby clothes. Who's with me!?

Lately, Mike and I call him "Kip" from Napoleon Dynamite..."Yes, I love technology...not as much as you, you see...but still I love technology..."

Let them eat popcorn

Over the weekend, I saw a photo posted on Instagram of a cute little boy (maybe 15 months?) eating popcorn with his grandpa.  The second I saw it, I knew there would be comments about the dangers of popcorn.

One woman commented how her friend's 3 year old had choked on popcorn and died. Another woman said that even as an ICU nurse, she had a hard time helping her child when he choked on popcorn.

Ironically, just that morning, Max had found his way into the pantry and pulled out the bag of popcorn kernels, and then pointed at the popcorn maker on the shelf. I was just too proud of him knowing that much about the popcorn making process to reject his request.  While we snacked away on it, I thought about the days of not letting him have popcorn because I was too scared he would choke on it.  Now that he was almost 2, had the risk of him choking gone away?  Probably not. But I guess I just understand the bigger picture. Terrible, terrible things happen...but if we restrict ourselves based on every tragic story we ever hear, we'll be left to lay in our beds and stare out the window for the rest of our lives.

I've been haunted by the story of a local boy who was in a stroller, crossing the street with his mom (in the crosswalk, with a walk signal) and was hit by a car.  We can do everything right, and it can all go so wrong. In this digital age, we have access to every story in every community across the globe, and we are SO AWARE of what goes wrong, and we feel so compelled to warn others of the dangers we've experienced, even though these warnings can end up robbing us of simple moments that are creating lasting memories.

When a sweet little boy wants to eat popcorn with his grandpa, let's just go with it. When Max wants to squeal with excitement as the air popper fills the bowl, I'm going to savor that moment! Could they choke? Sure. But cancer cells could also be forming.  A plane could lose control and crash into our house.  I'm speaking to myself mostly when I say, let's be carefree but not careless. Don't let the freak accidents rob us of our simple, special moments.