less than 10 weeks

Can you believe it? In approximately 9 weeks and 6 days my family of three will become a family of four. Things have been crazy around here as the reality sets in. We are wholly unprepared (I think I mentioned this last month too), some great people have offered us some great things and it is about time I took up all the offers I can. Baby shower planning needs attending to, I need to make a list of the things we need so that if people want to buy us anything they can get us something we'll use, and lists of our friends need to be given to the right people so that they will be invited. I am actually really excited for this party - last time around I didn't know nearly as many people, have as many friends or have a clue what I was in for.

Andrew and I have a long, long list of things we want to get done pre-new-baby. Neither of us are deluded enough to actually think much of it will get done now, but there are a few key crafts I want to do (make baby quilt and knit booties) and one big thing I hope Andrew can do (paint the kid's room).

I had a discussion with a good friend of mine about neighbours and home birth. We had not planned on telling our neighbours until shortly before the birth, our thinking being that they would have less time to get frightened about the prospect. Her thoughts are that we should tell them now and give them an opportunity to decide how they feel about it. My argument, and fear, is that I don't want anyone else to dictate my birthing choice. I just don't think someone else's fear of what might be should mean I have to give birth in an environment I am uncomfortable with.

During the conversation I had trouble articulating much past my fear - my fear that someone else was going to get to make this very personal decision for me, again (homebirth is not covered in Alberta - you go to a hospital or pay through the nose). Homebirths have been shown to as safe as hospital births and require fewer interventions, I will get to be in a familiar space and be surrounded by only the people I want. Top this off with the knowledge that this will be our last baby, we are not having more (really) and that makes this my only chance to experience a home birth (at least from the unique perspective of birth mother). I do not want that taken away, unless medically necessary.

Following the discussion I was confused and distraught, I could see my friend's very valid point, but I wasn't ready to conceded. Andrew and I talked at length about it and found ourselves just going in circles - what to do? What to do???

I posed the question to an online prenting group I belong to and was blessed with some first-hand experience:

We had a homebirth. Our landlord, who lives upstairs, would also have had serious issues with it. Not that he would have worried specifically about the place getting messed up, etc, but just the whole automatic fear that comes up about homebirth for uninformed people. I didn't want to deal with his fear or having him constantly worrying about it. Anyway, we decided not to tell him beforehand. I was also really quiet for my first kid's birth and expected to be this time. But, the best thing we did was a few weeks before our due date, we called him and said, just wanted to remind you that we are due soon so if you hear any loud noise, don't worry about us, we just might be in labor. That way he wouldn't come down to check on us or tell us we are being too loud or something dumb like that. (We just left out the part about "we won't be leaving to go to the hospital.") Even if you were REALLY loud this time, for all your landlord knows, you are having a really difficult early labor and just haven't left for the hospital yet. Don't know if this approach would work for you. The labor for us did indeed end up very quiet (with dd sleeping in her room right across the hall) and it only lasted 2 hours. We went ahead and told him after the fact, but I don't suppose we needed to. Somehow, it wasn't even an issue when we mentioned it. It's like he was almost proud that a baby was actually born in his house.

I was also gifted this gem:

why it is either your landlord's or your neighbors' business that you are having a homebirth. You pay rent to live there - and unless it is in your lease to inform them of possible homebirths, I'd say don't bother telling them. KWIM?

After talking with Andrew again we have decided not to tell them. The reality is we would be home for the long part of labour anyways, last time around we were turned away and told to come back hours later - and the pushing bit will be over before anyone knew what hit. I double (and triple) checked with Andrew and he assures me I was a quiet labourer (except for the low moan I attempted to release while pushing that the ass-faced nurse told me to hold in contrary to everything my own body was telling me to do).

sunshine and daydreams

The sun came out and we spent the bulk of our day finishing our move. If all goes as planned we will be completely moved (including cleaning and painting the old place - which we are painting because Sebastian used the walls as his personal canvasses on more than one occasion) by the end of tonight.

Andrew and I split duties well today - in the morning Sebastian and I cleaned and played at the old place while Andrew brought a car-load of stuff to the new house; in the afternoon Andrew and Sebastian washed the car and Sebastian napped briefly while I did the down and dirty cleaning (like behind the oven... EW). At about 3:30 we were done all but the painting. We came home and decided that rather than unload the car we would play on the lawn - *our* lawn.

I am so in love with our new place - even while I am surrounded by mountains of unpacking and facing drawbacks like no storage (wasn't a problem until we got the christmas tree and camping gear in the house... now we have some serious thinking to do). We can tell Sebastian loves it too - he has all but forgotten about watching TV and will now happily play on his own while I get mama things done.

I have actually lost some weight since my last weighing ("officially" 239 last month w/ my midwife, but was generally hovering around 237). This week I got my trusty scale from the old place and excitedly stepped on only to be shocked when the digital readout told me I had plummeted to 230. I checked it four times - twice in a different room - and kept getting the same number. Now I needed to remind myself it was early morning and I had yet to eat or drink anything - nor was I clothed, I went back this evening and got a much less worrisome 235. I don't really worry about not gaining any weight this pregnancy because I am a) already "above average" and b) know I am eating good food, but a loss of nearly 10 pounds at this point (15 weeks) frightened me a little.

After stepping back and assessing things I have decided, however, not to worry one bit. I will continue to eat well and perhaps add a healthy snack, like the banana, bran and soygurt I just consumed, and take care of myself and trust that if anything is out of balance my body will let me know. I have been walking WAY more - an average of 30 minutes/day compared to... almost nothing, so I have a feeling that is a factor in all this. I feel fantastic! We've been going to the park (two blocks from a great coffee shop), we've been walking to the store, we've been playing and running and having such a great time. Sebastian's behaviour is still challenging, he is a spirited and stubborn child. He is fucking brilliant which is a blessing and a curse, he is so good at communicating what he needs/wants that when he does have difficulty it is traumatic. I am learning (finally) how to read when he is tired or hungry and how to behave when those factors are getting in our way.

It is odd to me - he and I are so close and had this fluid, effortless relationship for so long and when we lost that I had trouble adapting. Actually this whole last year has been a series of painful adaptations. I got to a point where I just gave up, why bother trying when everything was always changing. I hadn't begun to find my community yet, I was lost and lonely and depressed. We were always out trying new things, trying to find "our thing" and the pace of that really got to both of us.

This time around (as we have just moved away from our old thing and I am not willing to make the commute one or twice a week to get back there) I am going to take the search more slowly. It is spring now and the sunny days are coming more often - we're going to spend time at the beach (35 mins by bus), going on adventures (the farm, the aquarium, the pool) and otherwise we're going to hit the nearby parks and meet as many other families as we can nearby, so that when the rains return we will have all the playdates we could need. And if nothing else Sebastian and I plan to have a blast this summer as it will be our last as a duo.

My point is this time, with this change being as permanent as we can foresee, I am being more patient with Sebastian and am being rewarded with the gift of being able to better understand him. Andrew and I haven't been getting along nearly as well, but we're trying - and that's a step. I am being a pain-in-the-ass pregnant mother and he's being a pain-in-the-ass husband of a pregnant mother. I am hoping that once we're settled in things will even out. I have to work harder at not being a raging bitch - he very wisely walked away from a completely irrational argument over a lack of hot water and who had the right to shower. We then spoiled ourselves with a dinner from Capers (I would kill to eat their soup and salad every night); uncovered Sebastian's hidden love of quiche (YAY) and his distaste for pakoras.

On the potty front - we've not had a second success, but brought over his toilet seat ring from the old house tonight and he got a real kick out of sitting on it! He's so excited about the prospect of being out of diapers and now just needs to get past the learning curve. I am not pushing it on him - he'll be trained eventually, it looks like sooner rather than later, and I want to do what I can to keep this a positive and exciting experience for him.

Enough blathering - I need some tea and my bed. (Sometimes when writing I think of the Monty Python philosophy - if you don't know how to end a skit just blow something up. I wish I could figure out a clever way to do that with prose. Until then I will have to settle for the occasional, abrupt, enough-is-enough ending and tonight I give you one of those.)

*boom*