Finding Patience

It’s crazy how I can go from one day wanting Charlotte to come right now to the next day hoping that she doesn't arrive until closer to her due date. What has changed exactly? Let me explain . . .

It’s no secret that I've never been a patient person. Therefore, when I went in to see my midwife this last week, I jumped at her offer to check if my cervix was at all dilated. Come to find out that although I've had a decent amount of false labor, it hasn't done any work—my cervix is still closed. I was slightly disappointed at the time by this knowledge. She let me know that the dilation of my cervix at this point isn't telling of when I’ll actually go into labor—she's seen women who are not dilated at all go into labor the next day, as well as women dilated at three centimeters that have not gone into labor for weeks following. Upon leaving the appointment, I had to call my mom and let her know about the lack of news (she was also excited about the possibility of my progress).

My mom gave me advice on what things I should be doing to make sure little Charlotte isn't born too long after her due date. I've been walking the dogs twice a day, so this is good, but mom recommended that I should be having sex every night. Easy enough . . . it’s like going back to how things were before I was pregnant, exhausted and uncomfortable.

Why is it so important to me that Charlotte comes around her due date? Besides the obvious reason being that I’m beyond excited to meet my little girl, I also have a goal of laboring completely naturally without interventions or pain medication. In this day and age, an expecting mother almost has no choice after 42 weeks except to be induced. I want to avoid pitocin if at all possible, because that causes stronger unnatural contractions and the possibility of all the other interventions that I’m hoping to avoid.

I still hope that Charlotte comes sooner than later, but while I was praying for her any day now arrival, I’m now hoping that she waits until closer to her due date in a week or so. There’s a good reason for this—I'm 38 weeks pregnant and yesterday morning I woke up with a sore throat. By the time I woke up this morning my biggest pregnancy fear came to life—I'm sick with a cold and have the following symptoms: sore throat, stuffy nose, watery eyes and body aches.

I can’t imagine going into labor feeling this way. Not only am I going to need all my strength and ability to focus to get through this labor successfully, but I also really want to be completely healthy when I first meet little Charlotte.

All I can do now is get as much rest as possible, eat tons of Amy’s Organic Vegetable Soup and keep extremely hydrated, all in the hopes of getting better before my little angel decides to grace us with her presence.

I’m pretty sure once I’m healthy, I’ll go back to wanting her here yesterday, but for now I’m hoping for at least a couple days of recovery time.

Me Time - Mom Time

Treat Yourself to a Massage Regularly—Pregnant or Not

Tonight Josh and I attended our hospital tour to check out where little Charlotte will come into the world. The tour started out with an informative video about breastfeeding. Of course, Josh was cracking jokes throughout the whole video just like he did when we'd watch videos in our childbirth classes. It may seem immature, but I really do appreciate his sense of humor, because it keeps me from breaking into tears every time a newborn comes on the screen.

Anyway, this video was informative because it validated the reality that it is going to be pretty difficult to find time for myself once my little bundle of love has arrived. Newborns should be breastfed 8-12 times a day! This is great news for my future of burning calories, but it will be hard to get away when the little bug depends on my body for nourishment. However, I'm determined to make sure that I'm able to make some time for myself once Charlotte, Josh and I have settled into our new life.

In order to ensure that this "Mom Time" happens, I've been utilizing my last couple months of freedom to get myself in this habit. Going out of my way to take "Me Time" at least once a week has been fantastic. This has consisted of pampering myself in any way possible by having breakfast at my favorite restaurant with sisters and friends, getting prenatal massages, manicures and pedicures every other week, going shopping and even getting a haircut (something that usually happens less than once a year). These small outings may seem insignificant, but they often proved to be the highlight of my week.

The goal of this blog is to keep me in the habit of writing every day, especially because I'm not doing so for work at the moment. While writing is definitely something I enjoy doing, it's going to be important to get out of the house to pamper myself with a friend or sister as well. Whether or not this actually happens is not something I'm currently concerned about, I think for now it's the thought that counts.

Whether or not you're a mom, make sure to you set time aside to do whatever it is that makes you happy at least once a week. You'll thank yourself later.

If I Had a Nickel . . .

Me at 24 Weeks Pregnant—Far From Full Term

I think every expecting mom has ran into random comments from friends and strangers that came off as rude or uncomfortable, even when that was not the original intention. Here are some of my personal favorites.

Due Date Prediction—Unless you're a medical professional performing an ultrasound for a pregnant woman, don't try to predict her due date.

When it first became apparent that I was in fact pregnant and not packing on a beer belly, I was excited for the people I saw on a regular basis (like the check out woman at the grocery store or the mail carrier) to notice my baby belly. I actually went home and wrote in my journal about the first time anyone took notice to my baby bump—the clerk at Vons up the street asked me when I was due—I was so excited! It was when random people that I didn't know started to notice and make comments that situations turned to awkward. One time I was out celebrating with friends, and one of a friend's family members, who I had never met, asked me if I was due the following month. This would've been fine if this situation happened last month, but it was back in October. There I was, not even 24 weeks pregnant, and mistaken for someone who was about to pop. I laughed it off and informed them that I wasn't due until late February, while inside I was in shaking my head and possibly cursing a bit.

Predicting the Sex—Attempting to predict anything about a pregnant woman is just a bad idea. Avoid it if at all possible.

One morning at work, one of the weekly delivery drivers came in early and started a conversation with me about my being pregnant. He was asking me a lot of questions about how I was feeling, while sharing personal stories about his wife and young daughter. This was early on in my pregnancy, before I knew the gender of my baby. However, I was in luck—this guy apparently knew the accurate way to determine the sex of my unborn child simply by the way I was carrying her. I know there are old wives tales in every culture, but this guy was exuding confidence about his knowledge. He informed me that I was undoubtedly having a girl because I had a "chubby belly." Hmm . . . I thanked him for his prediction and carried on with my morning, reminding myself that English is not his first language—he must have used the word chubby for lack of a better word (or so I hoped).

Not Funny—Okay, so maybe I'm just a tad more sensitive than I used to be.

There have been multiple occasions where people close to me have called me fat in a joking way since I've been packing on the prego pounds. Any time this has happened, I've been sure to inform them that although I'm pretty comfortable in my ever-changing body, it is still hurtful and probably inappropriate to make jokes of that sort. In fact, I've said a couple times that the nicest thing you can say to a pregnant woman is that she's "all belly." Although the stretch marks on my legs tell a completely different story, I still appreciate the kind words.

In the end, I've never been one to take the personal opinions of others to heart, especially because most people say things that are hurtful without noticing. I've mastered taking obscure comments with a grain of salt, and being able to laugh about things that would otherwise make you cry is a skill that will come in handy no matter what you're going through.

I hope these short stories have sparked random memories for some of you of things that would have been better left unsaid. If so, feel free to share!

Nested

I've only been on maternity leave for a little over a week now, and I'm nearing the end of my to do list. Not only am I nearing the end, but I'm sure my fiance and I haven't left any backup chores to do once the tasks on list are checked off. We've organized every closet, room and cupboard in the house. We've swept, mopped, dusted, vaccuumed and laundered damn near every inch, and today I cleaned my bathroom beyond recognition.

Charlotte's crib is set up with beautiful lavendar and dark purple bedding. The shelves of the changing table hold storage cubes that are jam-packed and organized with a million different baby items we received from our shower. Her little closet area is filled with hanging and folded miniature outfits that have already been washed in the finest baby friendly detergent. Not to mention, her clothes for the next year of her life (both new and hand-me-downs) have been washed, organized and stored away in clean, labeled containers. It's safe to say that my only job now is to relax my swollen ankles, eat, exercise and wait for my little one to decide to grace us with her precense.

If Charlotte decided to come a little early, I'd be busy with chores to do—bathing, feeding, diaper changing, cleaning . . . at least I can be sure that my future will be quite busy. Until then, I sit here with my cute little pups wondering when I can justify sweeping the entire house again.

Bringing Home the Bacon

The term bringing home the bacon has never had so much meaning to me—especially when you take into consideration that I've been a vegetarian for over 10 years. However, this popular phrase has been on my mind a lot lately, because I am learning how to adjust to no longer being my own bread winner.

At 37+ weeks pregnant, I would be blatantly dishonest if I were to say that I haven't been enjoying my maternity leave. While it's unfortunate that in the United States we're not offered significant compensation when expecting a child, I am currently taking advantage of the little benefits the state does offer. Therefore, I've applied to collect disability for the four weeks prior to my due date, as well as six weeks following the birth of my first child, Charlotte. My partner and baby's father is willing to support me in my time of transition into making less money (or maybe none at all someday). Although I'm extremely grateful, I will surely need to adjust.

It wasn't until I was talking to a friend that I realized how common it is for strong-willed and independent women to find it difficult to surrender their power and trust over to the earnings of their partners. I'm 25-years-old and have worked since I was 15. I have worked full-time, lived on my own and supported myself financially without help since the age of 18. My parents have instilled in me strong work ethic and the confidence that I am more than capable of taking care of myself. It was my dad's wish after seeing his mother stuck in an abusive relationship because of financial dependence (among other things) that his four daughters would never have to rely on anyone but themselves for a roof over their heads and food on the table. Considering my upbringing, I've always been proud to provide for myself, and being somewhat of a control freak at times, knowing I'm capable of earning a decent living has always brought me a sense of comfort.

My fiance and I have been together for almost four years, and he has always been attracted to my self-sufficiency and independence. We're very similar in this way, and I think it may be one of the reasons we're so compatible. Although we have lived together for basically our entire relationship, we've maintained separate bills and bank accounts, and we each take care of different expenses. In 2012 I successfully completed my Bachelor's Degree in Philosophy and have since pursued a career in my passion for writing and editing. Although I've made a decent living, pursuing my dreams did require me to take a significant pay cut from when I was working as a retail manager. I'm grateful that my partner has helped by picking up the check when we go out to dinner, go grocery shopping and other things.

When we found out that we are expecting a child, my fiance and I were both really excited. We immediately began changing our lifestyles in preparation for our baby's arrival into this world. Discussing every plan and option considered when expecting a babe, childcare and working came into the conversation. It was decided that since my hourly wage was not much higher than what we will need to pay someone for childcare, the best option is for me to stay home full-time once the baby is born. This way I can avoid working just to break even once paying for childcare. While I still plan on continuing with my freelance writing careers, in which I can work at home less than part-time, bringing home a check from working 40 hours a week is now going to become a thing of the past—starting now.

As much as this is the best option for my family both financially and personally, I began to feel extremely nervous and unsure about making this huge change in our lives. It wasn't that I worried we would struggle financially—my fiance makes good money, and we live within our means. My biggest fear was that I would no longer be in control of my own finances. My parents may have prepared me to take care of myself, but I was not at all prepared to give my livelihood—my power over to my partner. However, this is what is necessary, so I've been adjusting my attitude towards the situation.

A couple weeks ago, I was chatting with a friend on a sunny afternoon. Our better halves were downstairs installing a car radio for hours, and we were enjoying girl talk in my bright living room. She has two daughters, so we were discussing the expectant arrival of my little girl, and I was asking her a million mommy-to-be questions. She has been a stay-at-home mom for about 10 years now, so I found it the perfect opportunity to include her in my most recent fears of powerlessness. I explained to her how I knew that my partner would provide the family with everything that we need, and that I would be given the freedom to make financial decisions with the money that he was bringing home, but that even after considering all this I was still terrified about relying on him financially. She immediately broke into tears—I had certainly struck a cord.

She began crying softly, wiping her eyes and explaining to me that it can indeed be challenging. Her advice was to talk about my fears—she told me to share how I was feeling with others and she solidified how important it is to let it all out. Right on cue, both the men returned from installing the stereo, and we both sat there in an emotional state trying our best to not look guilty. For just a moment, we were able to share something that I never even knew existed before this changing time in my life—the helplessness that comes with being supported.

And here it is. I've taken her advice—I'm sharing how uncomfortable I am with the idea of being taken care of. However, this discomfort is overpowered by my desire to stay at home with my infant for at least the first couple years.

How do other independent and strong-willed mothers cope with this transition from working full-time to being a full-time mom? Please feel free to share your stories!