Welcome back

I just spent the last few minutes reading over my past posts. How life has changed. Nothing can prepare you for life with an infant. The past seven weeks have flown by, though sometimes just making it through the day can take an eternity. There have been moments of chaos. There have been moments of calm serenity. It's taken me longer to get back into this blogging thing than I imagined. Then again, nothing has really been as I expected.

So here's what I have in store for you, whoever is out there reading this. Expect complete condor. I do mean complete. It seems Brian and I have entered into some sort of secret society. How many times have both of us wondered, "Why didn't anyone tell me about this?" I am Toto, pulling the curtain back to show the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help me, God (to whom many parents, believers and non-believers alike, have prayed at three a.m.). Some of the things I'm sure I'll discuss include poop, puke, pacifiers, soul-crushing love, and breastfeeding.

I'm feeling pretty froggy after three cups of coffee, so let's start with breastfeeding. Go big or go home, right? Breastfeeding Nazi's can post all the hate mail you want. I care not. Because I hated it and life is so much better now that we're not doing it. I tried to like it. Every day for the last two weeks, from about eleven a.m. until six or seven in the evening, she ate every hour for forty five minutes. Have you done the math on that? It leaves an hour and a half TOTAL for me to get things done around the house. I began to fantasize about life with a formula-fed baby. The freedom to go out in public without worrying where I could "whip it out" inconspicuously. The time to cook a real dinner! And oooooooohhh how lovely it would be to take a shower with time to shave my legs.

Fantasy became reality two days ago at six in the morning, when Virginia was screaming for her third meal since four. I will pump (which takes about ten minutes) and feed her a bottle (another ten minutes). Angels descended onto earth from the heavens heralding songs of joy and peace. It is one of my best decisions: marrying Brian, having Virginia, giving up the boob. The order of precedence sometimes varies depending on the moods of those two people.

What strikes me as odd is the way the world seems to plot against women who choose to (horror!) forgo breastfeeding. I wasn't sure I wanted to even try it. It's a very strange thought to me. I imagined feeling like a cow. And I did. If I hear, "Breast is best!" one more time, I might have to climb the tower with a gun. I digress. How did this become such a hot topic? It's so prevalent, so pervasive, that even admitting I was unsure about it made me feel guilty. Notice how I spent two paragraphs explaining why I chose to stop? Why does everyone feel the need to push the boob on new mothers? Here's what "they" don't tell you:

1-It hurts. "Proper latch shouldn't hurt," according to every book written on the subject. Well, suck on your finger for forty five minutes twelve times a day and tell me it doesn't get a little raw.
2- It's time-consuming. I've already covered this, but felt the need to repeat.
3- No one can step in and give you a break. Wanna shower? Not if baby is hungry. Want to get sleep? Not if baby is hungry. Want to have a nice, leisurely dinner out? Only if you're comfortable whipping the girls out in public.
4-Formula manufacturers are in on the conspiracy. Written on the side of my Similac jar? "Breast milk is recommended." Good grief.

More power to all those who stick with it. I gave it my best shot. I don't feel guilty. You can't MAKE me feel guilty. Because now I have time to enjoy my daughter. Enjoy her I do. She is amazing. I'm sure some one, somewhere, has a grasp on language powerful enough to describe this love. I do not. She is my world.

A weekend with Mom

Thursday brought a little excitement. Without getting too graphic, I'll just say that I thought labor might be well on the way. Still no baby after almost 72 hours. Mom came up for the weekend. She wanted to take Friday off, and I told her not to worry about it. I would hate for her to take time off of work for no reason...not that spending time with me isn't a good reason for anyone to take off work, but let's be honest here. This baby is the root of the reason for her visit. And I don't blame her!

Mom and I headed to the farmer's market early Saturday morning. I bought my staples (pecan bars from Lana and cinnamon buns from Gammy O's) as well as some asparagus, carrots, and strawberries. We headed to the grocery store after that, and then home for some rest. Dad stopped by to check out the new-to-us Suburban. She appears to be in pretty good shape. All she needs is a few small fixes, like an oil change, tires, and a tie-rod, whatever that is. After he left, we struggled to find something on TV. Just so happens that Throwdown with Bobby Flay was a repeat. The repeat against Buz from a Richmond staple, Buz and Ned's bar-b-que. Brian and I watched, salivating, as ribs were rubbed, marinated, smoked, and devoured. We also promptly agreed on dinner plans. Mom must experience the "Flay Slayer," as he calls himself.

Dinner did not disappoint. I've never seen the place so crowded. Brian waited in line with our order while Mom and I claimed one of (maybe) twelve tables inside. I watched my husband as mom and I chatted, and could see his blood pressure rising. Brian isn't one for crowds. He returned to the table to announce that there was an hour wait for food. All I'll say about the rest of the experience is this...if you go to a restaurant, wait in line for 20 minutes to order your food, then an hour to get your food, and leave completely blissed out, you've found a great place to eat. I had half a rack of ribs, and was still claiming that I should have ordered a full rack when we got home. Man! They sure can BBQ!

All of us passed out relatively early last night. And that leaves me here, awake at 6:30, typing this blog. Miss Virginia is showing fewer signs of early arrival. I am contracting, but nothing painful or regular. Lots of pressure in my lower abdomen and my hips and back are pretty sore. She'll be here soon, I'm sure. All I can do is wait, and the wait is getting awfully old. When I'm alone like this, I can't help but wonder what she looks like. Will she get the pudgy "Earman" cheeks? A head full of hair? Will she be healthy? All in due time. And I'm not due for another 10 days.

Three and a half weeks

Eric Bowlin and his wife, Stephanie welcomed their new baby girl on May 21st. They are the first of a couple of my pregnant friends to deliver. Rachel will be next, on the 28th, to say hello to her daughter. And I still have a few weeks to go. Or do I? I've turned into a walking (waddling) fiend. Every night after dinner, I put on my sneaks and head out the door. Brian has joined me on a few trips. Some evenings are easier than others. Is it possible to walk a baby out of you? I'm determined to find out. At the very least, I'm doing something good for my body. That is something I've been desperate to do for the last eight months.

I've come to realize how much I've let myself go. Granted, weight has never been an issue for me. It's more my physical condition. I used to be the workout queen. Up before dawn, swimming at least a mile before work. All that stopped after the Navy. Can I apologize to my own body? I'm sorry I stopped doing the things you love and replaced it with the sofa and wine and cigarettes. I will be better once the baby is out. Just get me through this delivery and I will love you back into shape. I promise.

This pregnancy isn't the only thing that has me suddenly health-conscious. About a month ago, Brian and I got life insurance. His tests came back a little weird, and we finally got the results on Friday. High cholesterol. It scared me to death. We just got married! You're telling me my husband is at risk for heart disease in his early thirties? Something has to change. I love him too much to ignore it. In with the fruits and veggies. Out with the trips to Burger King. He wondered aloud the other day if he should just get on medication for it. My response? Get thee to the doctor, who will undoubtedly suggest a diet and lifestyle change before sticking him on a lifetime of medication. Brian isn't going to like it, but I'm forcing him off the sofa and out into the world. I'm not ready to lose my husband.

On a happier note, we spent Saturday at the berry farm in Varina. It was the 5th annual Strawberry Fields Festival. It certainly was the most family friendly thing the two of us have ever done. Kids and babies and pregnant women everywhere. Coolers were welcome, and a few people were drinking, but by no means was it the lets-chug-and-get-wasted kind of thing we're used to. It was nice. I packed us a lunch and we brough along our chairs and a blanket. We set up shop under a big tree and spent the day listening to music and watching kids play. Brian even picked some strawberries for us. Given that I've never been berry-pickin', I gave it an honest effort. For about 30 seconds. It just wasn't condusive to Pregnant's mobility. Next year, though. I'll berry-pick him to shame! :-)

That's all the excitement from our corner. Baby's still on the inside. Patience. Must. Find. Patience.

A morning at the market

Spring is finally here. It's not the warm weather that gave it away, or the high pollen count, or the blooming magnolia tree I saw yesterday. For me, spring equals farmer's markets and they're back in full swing! Richmond has quite a few. My favorite, by far, is the South of the James in Forest Hill Park. Every Saturday morning vendors unload their goodies in one of my favorite neighborhoods in town. I'm super jealous of anyone that lives close enough to walk. Brian and I went a couple of times last year, but I've learned that I can have more fun (dare I type it?) by myself. He just can't get excited about asparagus and radishes.

This morning, I made my way to the 17th Street market downtown. I found some nice Romaine lettuce, which is going to make awesome Caesar salads for dinner tonight. I completely flipped out over the strawberries at Amy's Garden. What more could you want out of life? I'm going to make my first attempt at homemade shortcakes for our dessert this evening. Yum! I just hope my husband can appreciate the effort. He's in love with the standard-issue sponge cake variety you can pick up at any grocery store. Good, but I can do better. Three huge tomatoes also found their way into my bag. They're not in season quite yet, but I made homemade bread recently and instantly thought about slicing those bad boys up and eating tomato sandwiches. There were list of other things I wanted to spend money on, but I was a good girl and stuck to my budget.

In other, non-foodie news, my doctors appointment yesterday went well. Miss Virginia has officially dropped. Dr. Lucas even said she might be a little early. That's when I told him that I love him. We're on a once-a-week visitation schedule now. Luckily, my weight seems to have tapered off (thank you, Jesus!). Dr. Lucas sent me away armed with his pager number, instructions on when to go to the hospital, and hope that the end is finally near! Maybe today I'll try to pick out which bottle of wine we'll open to celebrate her arrival....Mmmmmm......wine.

It seems like the holiday weekend is going to be gorgeous. We don't have any plans yet. I'm thinking maybe a picnic by the river. Brian didn't seem too enthused about the idea when I mentioned it this morning, though. Sigh. My husband is a lot of things, but romantic isn't one of them. Gotta love him.

Well folks, that's all I have for now. I need to try to find the recipe for those shortcakes. Hope everyone has a great weekend!

Time is on my side

Welcome to the world of the stay at home mom. I know I'm not officially a mother yet, but let's not get hung up on technicalities. I wasn't sure how I would like not working. It's been a week, and I have nothing to complain about. I've gotten quite a bit accomplished from my list. I'm thinking about adding some things. Then again, I'm (almost!) nine months pregnant. Who needs a to-do list when there are naps to be had?

Last Friday, I organized the closet in Virginia's room. It took a lot longer than I expected. I'm not sure how we've managed to accumulate so much stuff. Especially living in a two bedroom apartment. The spare room used to be a catch-all. Don't know where to put it? Throw it in the spare bedroom! About half-way through the organization war path, I realized we need a house. My Christmas decorations still take up the bulk of the closet. So much so that I'm considering getting a small storage space. We'll have to wait and see.

We spent Saturday afternoon at Jeff and Beth's house for a baby-frenzy cook-out. Good times! Brian's good friends Dan and Meg were there, as well as Ted and Katie, and Courtney and Aaron. Three toddlers and one very pregnant Kelly Sue probably convinced Dan and Meg that there's plenty of time to spend together before taking the plunge into parenthood! I love hanging out with everyone, though. It's nice to be around people who are in the same place in life as Brian and me. The light at the end of the tunnel, you know?

I woke up early on Sunday and drove to Newport News to spend Mother's Day with my mom. She mentioned a few weeks ago that she wanted a lounge chair for her back patio. I got her two hanging flower pots, a bird feeder with seed, and the chair. She was thrilled. We spent the morning sweeping off her patio and hanging her gifts, then we sat for a while and enjoyed the fruits of our labor. She called me last night to tell me, again, that she was thoroughly enjoying her presents. Job well done, Kelly Sue! I took her out to lunch and headed back to Richmond for dinner with Brian's mom, Rhonda. She chose to have us over to her house for a little cook-out instead of going out to eat. Brian and I stopped on the way for some steaks and flowers for her. Here's the big surprise....Brian cooked the steaks and they were wonderful! Perfectly seasoned. For those of you unaware of my husband's culinary abilities, let's just say this was a complete shocker! I'm filing it away as another reason for getting a house. Brian cooking ME dinner for a change on a grill.

The new week brought a house guest. One of my best friends, Lance, was in town for work at MCV and stayed with us a few nights. He brought some bittersweet news with him. He's accepted a job in Palm Springs. It's a great opportunity, and I know he's going to love it in California. On the selfish side, this puts all of my best friends on the west coast. Looks like I'm going to have to get used to flying. I'm super happy for him, though. If a little sad. Funny how stuff like this makes you realize that you have taken time with friends for granted.

I finally got our wedding pictures up on the wall in the hallway. It only took a year for me to get that taken care of! They look great. Or, looked great. I put them up on Tuesday afternoon. That evening, Lance and I walked into the apartment and the chaos with the dogs resulted in one of the frames crashing to the floor. Glass broken. Angry pregnant woman. It should have been an easy fix. I took the frame to Lowe's and had a new piece of glass cut. When I got home, I realized that the glass was cut to fit the back piece of the frame, not the front. The glass is about two centimenters too long and that prevents the back piece from fitting. Grrrrrrr! I blame myself. I should have checked it before paying for it. Lesson learned. It's still not fixed, though. Maybe Monday.

That pretty much sums up my first week of freedom. We head to the Shennandoah Valley tomorrow for Amber's wedding. I'm sure it will be beautiful. Hopefully the rain will hold off until the evening. I'll try to post some pictures. On the baby front, only four and a half weeks left! It's starting to hit Brian. He often says, "Holy crap. We're going to have a baby in here in a few weeks." She can't get here fast enough....I'm ready to share some of the baby responsibility. And I'm already contemplating which bottle of wine I'll open to celebrate!

Last minute list

In twelve hours, I'll winding down from my last shift at work. My life as a working woman will be over. I thought I would be upset about it. Instead, I'm dreaming up all the things I can accomplish before Virginia Lynn gets here. Some are necessary (find pediatrician) and some are frivolous (get hair done). I find a list to be in order.

1-Go through the closet in her room. Toss, donate, and re-home everything I can
2- Install car seat.
3- Pediatrician
4- Fix and freeze a few dinners
5- Hang wedding pictures in the hallway
5- Finish current knitting project
6- get hair done
7- nap daily
8- put last minute items into hospital bag
9- order birth announcements
10- find a rocking chair, night light, and mobile for her room
11. Celebrate a few more date nights with Brian

I think that should about cover it. I'm afraid to add too much to the list because I want this list to be achievable. Attainable. Doable. The last thing I want is an unfinished list hanging over my head when I get home from the hospital...

...with our daughter. The thought still blows me away. I can't believe I'm this lucky. I'm having a girl! Six more weeks until I can hold her in my arms. Sigh. Must. Find. Patience.

"Stuck in the middle with you."

It took seven months, but I'm finally able to articulate what I dislike about being pregnant. I'm talking about the real reason. The reason beyond all the superficial explanations I've been spouting off to anyone willing to listen. ("I'm fat. I would kill for a glass of wine. I'm fat. I can't get in and out of the car. I'm fat.") I've been miserable because I feel stuck.

I've spent the last seven months in limbo land between my old life and my new life. Brian and I were very much the couple about town. We now spend our evenings trying to find a television show we both enjoy. Work is getting difficult, but I'm not ready to give that part of myself up yet. I'm watching my tummy expand, but I can't revel in the changes being made in her. The nursery is complete, but no baby to watch sleeping in the crib. It's like I'm five years old awake in bed on Christmas Eve, straining to hear the sound of Santa's sleigh on the roof, watching the minutes tick by on the alarm clock, and morning just can't come fast enough. I'm stuck in the middle with my kiddo.

I dislike being pregnant because it's the ultimate test of my patience, something that's never been my strongest quality. Where's the "easy" button button for this? In my utopia, you take a pregnancy test, go to sleep, and wake up with a beautiful little baby. No time to stress out about expanding waistlines. No time to miss evenings out with the husband the way they used to be. No time to stress about the pain of labor, or the pain of the needle in my spine to prevent the pain of labor. Sigh.

I know this must sound pretty negative. Am I even excited about our baby? Yes. YES! That's the other problem. I want to hold her. I want to kiss her little feet. I want to watch her chest rise and fall as she sleeps. I want to listen to my husband read bedtime stories to her. What color eyes will she have? Whose nose (Brian's, I hope). Is she smart? Charming? I want all this right now.

So the good news? This won't last forever, this awful, stuck-in-the-middle land of waiting. Nine more weeks of waiting. Before I know it, I'll tuck her into bed on Christmas Eve and tell her she has to wait until the morning....and I'll pour my skinny self a glass of wine and put together her toys.