Hypnobabies, Home Birth and Naysayers



29 weeks



As I drag my gorgeous, luminous, beautiful (read:ballooning) body closer to my baby's ETA, I am starting to look forward to my second home birth.  When I was pregnant with Lucy, a lot of people looked at me funny when I told them I was having my baby at home.  They also looked at me funny when I said that I was planning a peaceful, comfortable birth with my Hypnobabies training.  A few helpful people even laughed at me.  Outright LAUGHED at my choice to birth differently than most people will tell you is possible.  Ummm...thanks for your support...?  When I told a friend of mine I was birthing at home she said, "I might have done that with my SECOND baby.  But never with my FIRST.  You just never know what could HAPPEN!"  Then I said I was doing Hypnobabies (which is, incidentally medical hypnoanesthesia - the technique they teach to people who have life-threatening allergies to anesthesia but require major medical procedures), and that I was training my mind to feel the contractions as waves of pressure rather than pain.  I said I was fully expecting a pleasant, comfortable birth experience.  She raised her eyebrows with an "isn't she cute?" smirk on her face and said "Whatever!  Good luck with that!"  And again...thanks for your support!

What is it with people who insist on telling first-time moms horror stories about birth?  Seriously?  I know people want to tell their stories.  This is how we connect - and the urge to connect and share is especially strong in mothers because birth is such a life-changing experience.  But the seed of fear is insidious and it can grow out of control.  Most of us are afraid of childbirth to begin with, and fear only exacerbates pain because you literally cannot relax if you are afraid.  It defeats the purpose of the fear in the first place.  You are supposed to be tense if you are frightened - that is how we survived as a species (Eh, there's a tiger coming to eat us.  I'm awfully scared, but I feel so RELAXED!  I'll get around to running in a minute).  However, tension and fear are completely counterproductive to helping the body open in childbirth.  And birth is not something to fear!  It is something to relish and enjoy and triumph in!  Yes, it is intense.  Yes, there is an incredible amount of power surging through your body while you birth.  And yes, it is probably the most challenging thing you will ever require of your body.  But it isn't scary if you allow the power instead of fight it.  And if you allow yourself (and train yourself) to think differently, it doesn't have to be painful.  Really and truly.  The human mind is incredibly powerful, and it controls the body.  THE MIND CONTROLS THE BODY.  Many wise people (including a certain Jewish carpenter) have said "As you believe, so shall you be".  Think about that.  As you believe, SO SHALL YOU BE.  Want something different in your experience?  Believe something different about your experience.  That is what I learned from my daughter's birth.  I didn't want it to be painful or traumatic or scary.  I taught myself to believe that it wouldn't be.  And it wasn't.  Now it wasn't a cakewalk, either, but it was peaceful and generally comfortable and pretty damn easy all things considered, especially in comparison to all those running-down-the-hallway screaming-type births that they insist on showing you in TV.  It was beautiful, and I can't wait to do it again!  I am not in denial, either.  I know things go wrong at births.  You hear about it all the time.  But that is why I have wonderful 2 midwives that I completely trust to tell me if something is amiss.  That is their job.  To make sure my baby is born safely.  If something looks like it is heading in a worriesome direction, they will say, "Hey, Jenny, let's take this to the hospital to have a doctor check things out".  And because I trust their judgement, I will say "You know, if you think it is a good idea, let's go".  The goal for everyone is a healthy baby and a safe birth - not simply a home birth.

And on that note, here's another thing that drives me nuts.  Why can't people just let women birth their babies where ever the hell they want to?  Why all the hullaballoo about home birth?  Women aren't stupid.  Home birthers are not choosing the "experience" of birth over the safety of their child.  People who believe that are idiots, plain and simple.  What do they think we are telling ourselves?  "The experience at home is so nice that I don't care if my baby dies"?  What kind of jackass says that?  The fact is, the research is there (and this link is just the tip of the iceberg).  All the credible research shows that PLANNED home birth with a trained professional birth attendant - for low-risk, healthy mothers - is as safe, if not safer than birthing in a hospital.  So quit telling me that I am irresponsible, irrational, foolish, or even dangerously putting my baby's life at risk and give me easier access to those trained professionals!  Good lord.  And while you're at it, can you please tell my insurance company to reimburse me for my low-tech, low-cost home birth?  "Low-cost" should be a HUGE selling point to insurance companies on home birth.  But certainly, we here in the US don't need to tweak our system at all.  Our maternity stats are some of the best in the world, right?  We have lower costs, lower maternal death rates, lower c-section rates, lower neonatal morbidity and mortality rates than the entire civilized world, right?  Why change ANYTHING in our sleek as a shark, completely efficient, evidence-based healthcare system?  Oh...wait...I was hallucinating again...

So...yeah.  That was a rant.  Sorry. 

So I am planning a second home birth.  A second Hypnobabies birth.  I am very excited about it.  Lucy was born in the water, and I am starting to imagine Muffin being born there, too.  I am starting to imagine holding him for the first time in the quiet dark of the middle of the night.  I am starting to imagine crawling into my own bed with my husband and my sweet little girl and my new baby boy - my beautiful family completed.  I am starting to get impatient to meet him and see who he will be.  

Ten more weeks.   

Third Trimester, Here I COME!

I had intended to do a better job documenting this pregnancy.  Something seems to have prevented me from being as active a blogger as I would like to be these days...I am not naming any names, but she's short, blonde, cute and her name rhymes wth Goosey.

28 week belly!

Anyway, this past Sunday, I crossed the magical divide into the third trimester of my second (and what I hope to be final) pregnancy.  Only 11 weeks and some change to go!  Some people say they coast through the second trimester, barely noticing they are pregnant at all.  This has not been my experience.  I thought I would LOVE being pregnant.  I really thought my body was built for it.  I come from a long line of women who popped out babies on an annual or biannual basis.  (** side note ** I had to look up "biannual" since I am never sure which one means once every 2 years and which means twice a year.  Interestingly enough, "biannual" can mean either.  And my mom and great grandmother both had twins, so it applies in either case).  The problem I seem to have is that I have super flexible hips to begin with, and pregnancy relaxin just makes them SO flexible that it hurts.  All those years of yoga...and I wish I were less flexible...

Anyway, I started to feel this pregnancy a lot faster than my first one.  I guess it is because I got so much bigger so much faster this time.  I sweat, at 25 weeks I was as big as I was at 30 week with Lucy.  And I have the pictures to prove it!  In my community care group (all the mamas in my midwives' practice that are giving birth in October meet once a month for these group prenatal visits), I am by far the largest belly there.  Now, granted, I am one of the earliest due dates in the group and most of the ther mamas are first-time moms (it makes me really happy that so many first-time mamas are choosing hom birth!!!), but at the last meeting, I was seriously out-bellying every lady there, even the one due a week before me.  I guess after you get everything all stretched out once, your body knows where to go. 

Speaking of all stretched out...if I call my stretch marks "racing stripes" do you think it will make them seem less tragic?  I was always so proud of my flat tummy.  Even if I was out of shape everywhere else, my tummy was always flat as a board.  Now I fear my abused abs will be covered by baggy, stretched out skin.  It was already a little droopy after Lucy was born.  I can only imagine the damage being done now by what feels to be the gargantu-baby currently populating my uterus.  Is the fact that my two children can't even share stretch marks a bad omen for how they'll get along later in life (you know, when they are both extra-utero)?  I mean, there was already a perfectly respectable (and well-hidden) crop of racing stripes covering the skin between my hips, but very sensibly not peaking up over the top of a bikini.  Now they are creeping up to belly button level and I am getting mad. 

They have managed to share pelvic girdle pain.  Thank you, kids.  When Lucy was born, she had her chin tilted up and her hand on her cheek.  This is not the most efficient manner to enter the world, and I felt like my legs were going to fall off when I walked too much for a few weeks after Lucy made her appearance.  They popped and swayed awful lot more after that epic birth.  My hips will never be the same.  And to prove it, I started feeling the same loosey-goosey hip feeling almost immediately after I got pregnant with the muffin man.  Now I am worried about my legs falling off before I even give birth.  I swear, my pubic bone is popping.  This is a really unnerving feeling.  I understand that the popping sound you hear in joints (think knuckles cracking or knees popping without any pain) is usually synovial fluid forming bubble and then bursting, thus getting the popping sound.  In your hips, it is often the result of your iliotibal band or iliopsoas, rubbing over a bone.  So what is it when your pubic bone pops?  There is no joint there, in the traditional sense.  The only time it supposed to move at all is when you are giving birth.  So what is that hrrible sound I hear eminating from my front pelvis when I get out of bed the wrong way?  Ugh.  I do not know.  I am not sure I want to, either.  I DO know that if this baby gets too much bigger, I am going to be sitting on his head rather than on my ischial tuberosities.  That is my favorite anatomical term.  That and phalanges.

Things that help with sacroiliac joint pain:
Getting out of the car with two feet at a time
Not standing on one leg (this is tough, since I teach yoga)
Tightening up the abs and pelvic floor muscles when rolling over in bed
Avoiding breast stroke-style kicks while swimming
Sitting with knees together (HA!)
Sitting on a birth ball
Keeping pelvis tucked under and pelvic floor muscles engaged while standing or walking

Anyway, other than that, the second trimester was lovely.  All things considered, I am feeling really well.  Now onto the third!  11 weeks and 4 days to go!

Before I go, I would like to clarify...I don't HATE being pregnant.  I LOVE the feeling of a little life growing inside me.  I love the mystery of what he will look like, who he will be, how the birth will go...obviously I don't love mystery enough to wait to find out the gender, but gender is only one aspect of this completely unknown creature my body is building.  It is just astounding on every level that I am MAKING another human being.  FROM SCRATCH!  I don't even make CAKE from scratch!  The human body is such an amazing machine.  So, I don't get morning sickness.  I don't generally get heartburn.  I don't get vericose veins or swollen ankles.  I weather the pretty incredible changes of pregnancy very well, considering how active my job is and how demanding it is to have a toddler and grow a baby at the same time.  I don't have much to complain about.  It just hurts in my hips.  Too bad you need them to walk.      

Boys vs. Girls

Last month, we found out we were having a BOY!  Woweee. I was (and to some extent still am) totally floored by this turn of events.  I am not sure why, but I REALLY was convinced we were having another girl.  I grew up in a house full of girls.  I have a daughter - not to mention a full 2 years worth of adorable, sweet, barely worn girlie clothes that will now never be worn in this house again (unless we decide to just put the baby in girl clothes...who would even notice?  Newborns all look alike anyway).  I don't know what to do with a boy.  Seriously.  What do you do with a boy? 

I am a little sad Lucy won't have a sister.  I am still getting over this, actually.  I remember a friend of mine was pregnant with her second and when they found out it was another boy, she felt like she was in mourning, since she really REALLY wanted a daughter.  I sort of regret finding out the gender, because after all the work of getting a baby out, I imagine would instantly fall in love with whatever was thrust into my arms.  Or at least instantly fall into relief at being done with the whole process of pregnancy and birth.  But there was always that little niggling fear that the first thought I would have as I discovered the gender was "oh, I wish it were another girl." (sort of like the dream I had that I gave birth to a cat - my first thought in the dream was "Oh, I was hoping for another baby...")  That is not that first thought I wanted to have about my child.


So I am letting it grow on me.  Boy.  Son.  Little BOY.  Baby boy.  Little brother.  Be nice to your brother.  Boy.  Boy.  Boy.  Boy.  My son.  Sweet baby boy.  Can you call a little boy pumpkin?  Or is that a girl nickname?  What about sweet potato pie?  Probably not princess...I'll have to come up with a whole new arsenal of pet names.  And I'll have to worry about him peeing in my face. 

He's awfully cute though, isn't he?

Sentence Structure and the Talkative Toddler

First let me preface this by saying I am going to brag about my daughter here.  I am going to unabashedly tell you how she is incredibly verbal and has an astonishing grasp of language for her age.  Before you roll your eyes at my first-time-momness, know I also have a little perspective.  I have been teaching kids age 18 months-5 years for a long time now, so I do understand that being verbal doesn't mean she is advanced...just verbal.  I know that just because she can talk a blue streak doesn't mean she is smarter or better than any of the other kids her age.  I am not planning on getting "Your Baby Can Read!" or "The Great Speeches of William Shakespeare, Toddler Edition" (I am sure someone makes this product) and drilling rote memorization into her sponge-like little noggin.  I am trying very hard NOT to be one of those "Montgomery County Power Moms" I often rolled my eyes at when I was teaching my mommy and me classes. 

MoCoPower Mom: Junior 7 months old.  He is very advanced.  He needs such and such, so his Nanny here will be with him during this class while I set up his Mandarin lessons for next session.  To which Nanny will accompany him as well. 

Me: Um...okay. 

MoCoPower Mom: Please don't use "um" in front of him.  I believe it stunts his linguistic develoment.

Me: Sure.  Your son spit up on your briefcase.

MoCoPower Mom:  See how smart he is!

Montgomery County is full of very competitive mommies.  I really don't want to be one of them.  I personally think Lucy is so verbal because Kevin and I are home together a lot during the day, so she is exposed to more adult conversation than many toddlers are.  Anyway, here ends the disclaimer.

Lucy has an amazing vocabulary.  I thought I was just being a typical "my child is so smart" kind of mom.  I mean, I know she is an early talker and would be considered very verbal for her age, but I recently taught a class full of 2-and-a-half year-olds that didn't have as many words as Lucy does at 21 months.  I feel like it is a real privilege to have such a clear window in her mind this early.  She'll be staring off in space, looking positively dejected, when suddenly she'll turn to me and say "Rode the carousel!  Horsies went up and down!  And zebra!"  So she wasn't sad or scared or worried at all - just really thinking about that carousel ride.  It is incredibly cool. 

She fearlessly grapples with words like "calendula" and "helicopter", and 9 times out of 10 coming out with a perfectly respectable and understandable version of these words.  Sometimes she gets a long word perfectly the first time - which is always pretty amazing - but then any other time she tries it is comes out like a mouthful of mashed potatoes - which is always pretty cute.  Calendula turned into "Angela" and then "calandrela..la..la".  Helicopter is now "heh-copter".  She'll be halfway through a completely intelligible sentence only to have it devolve into gibberish halfway through and then come out clear again at the end - like her mouth couldn't keep up with brain ("Lucy wants to eat spagelti grushitmut bybye the doggie?").  But by and large, she is fairly understandable and talks in semi-complete sentences almost all the time.  She climbs the stairs to the slide and says "Up the stairs, down the slide.  Here goes Lucy!"  Lucy looked at my husband this morning and said "Daddy is a peanut."  Kevin said "I am?"  Then she replied "Lucy is a peanut, too."  She picks a tomato off the vine and say "Tiny tomato is green! Lucy holdin' it." (this, despite the dozens of times I have told her that we wait till the tomatoes are RED before we pick them.  This little tomato picker is doing more damage to my garden than the bleeping chipmunks). 

The other day, I listened to her conversation with Elmo in the back seat as we drove home from the park.  It was quiet, then I hear "Want cookies."  I asked "You want cookies?"  More quiet.  "ELMO, you want cookies?  Yeah?"  The subtext was clearly, "Mama, I am not talking to YOU."  Then she went on, "You have a poopy butt?  Change the butt, Elmo?  Yeah?"  Then she erupted in giggles and squeals and gibberish that had me in stitches the rest of the ride home.

 Of course, this "advanced vocabulary" doesn't mean that she has a perfect grasp on language.  I will hear her talking to her her stuffed animals, giving a running commentary on what she is doing.  "Eating the kitty.  Banana?"  ("The kitty is eating.  Would you like a banana?") "Sitting the mouse?  Chair, mousie?" ("The mouse is sitting.  Want a chair?")  "Change diaper.  On the floor.  Elmo, change the butt!" ("Let's change Elmo's diaper on the floor!" The unfortunate phrase "Change the butt" is something she picked up from us before we realized how closely she was listening). 

She is currently trying out the use of pronouns.  This is incredibly cute, because she simply doesn't understand them, but hears Mama and Daddy using them all the time.  So using all 21 months of deductive reasoning skills, she applies them as they seem to make sense.  I can't tell you then number of times I have stood at the top of the stairs when her hands are full and say "Do you want me to carry you down the stairs?"  So now, instead of waiting for me to ask, she'll look at her arms full of stuffed animals and say "Carry you?  Yeah?".  She says things like "You want cookies."  I'll say "No, I don't want cookies".  To which she'll repeat "You want cookies.  PLEASE!"  Oh, YOU want cookies, I see.  Sometimes she'll start to squeal in frustration and say "HELP!!" and then whatever she is doing suddenly goes her way and she says triumphantly "You got it!".  It took me a few times of her saying this to realize that she thinks "YOU" is another name for "Lucy".  I will also frequently ask her "Do you want to come with me upstairs or wait down here?"  This morning I came back from the gym and said "I'm going to go take a shower".  Lucy comes running up to the gate and says "Come with me!"  So my name is "Mama", but it must also be "me", since I frequently refer to myself as "me".  She randomly applies "he" and "she", with no apparent rhyme or reason.  She looked at a picture of Abraham Lincoln and said "She's sad.  Give hugs and kisses."  Then she proceeded to hug and kiss the picture of Abe Lincoln.  I sometimes wonder if I should correct her, but then I remember that most children don't start to use pronouns at all until they are 2 years old.

She's advanced and all ;-)

In Memory of

Two weeks ago, a dear friend of my husband and I's died suddenly.  Carrie had a pulmonary embolism - a blood clot in her lung.  Her heart stopped on the way to the hospital.  Her husband was the one who called off the chest compressions after an hour of trying to get it started again.  My heart breaks for him and I hate that he had to make that decision when it was his beloved wife they were trying to save.

She was way too young, with a young family and a whole life of possibility ahead of her.  It seems dumb and random and utterly cruel for this to have happened.  I have been trying to process it and assign it some sort of meaning to try to make it okay for it to have happened.  But it isn't okay.  It IS dumb and random and utterly cruel.  Why is it fair for her 2 year old daughter to grow up without her mother?  Why is it okay for her sweet, wonderful husband to lose his wife so suddenly?  I haven't been able to even send a card to her family because I have been searching for words to say and I keep coming up empty.  Empty words of comfort.  Empty words of sympathy.  Not that I don't want to comfort or that I don't feel sympathy - because I do - but the words feel empty because I have lacked any conviction of a greater meaning behind this tragedy.   

 

But I have been giving it a lot of thought.  And in my own way, a lot of prayer.  I don’t pretend to know God’s will or plan or anything.  I don’t even pretend to know that it is all a part of a plan of any kind.  But I do know is that nothing in this life – good or bad or in between – has any meaning but that which one assigns to it.  So I guess that means I can choose to search for the meaning to this heartbreak or I can choose to give it meaning.  I can decide someone else has the meaning and believe them, or I can decide to give Carrie’s presence in our lives and her sudden, awful exit a meaning of my choosing.  I know most people don’t think this is the truth of things.  But I find that holding to this gives me a sense of power and direction to choose my path and rise above that in this insane life which seeks to drag me down.  But it is also a bigger responsibility than just waiting for an answer to come.  I truly believe God loves us and sees us and mourns with us and for us.  But I don’t believe He is a capricious and cold-hearted God that would steal away a beloved wife and mother on a whim, or even as a part of a grand plan we can never know.  Life has a flow, and things happen in that flow that don’t feel good and don’t make sense.  Sometimes they are completely unfathomable, but that doesn’t mean we can’t decide what they will mean to us and use it to help us to become the next greatest version of the greatest vision we ever had of ourselves here on this earth.

 

Carrie was so giving and thoughtful and loving.  I have decided to remember her when I think that I don’t have time or am too tired to do someone a kindness.   And I will do that kindness in her honor.  She was funny and warm.  I have decided to remember her when I feel the urge to protect myself from getting to know people better.  She was a true friend.  I have decided to remember her when I feel old friendships fading from time or distance and I will take the time to reconnect - because she would have done that.  When I try to think of the best ways to honor her memory, these are the things that some to mind.  She was a shining example of what a friend should be and I hope that I can be like her in this way.  I don't know if this is the meaning I have been trying to find, but it helps me to feel less sad.

Carrie was family.  Her family is our family.  Please take a moment to say a prayer for them as they try to find the daylight again.

To Test or Not To Test...

We got the first trimester screening done last week.  This is what they call the Nuchal Translucency Scan.  What they do is have a specially trained radiologist do an ultrasound of the fetus between 11 and 14 weeks.  The NT test uses ultrasound to measure the clear (translucent) space in the tissue at the back of your developing baby's neck. Babies with abnormalities tend to accumulate more fluid at the back of their neck during the first trimester, causing this clear space to be larger than average.  Having a thicker nuchal fold is a marker for Down Syndrome.  They also look for other things and check out the heart and such, but the main measurement they want it of that nuchal fold.  Then they do a maternal blood test to look for proteins and other blood markers that would further help identify babies with potential genetic abnormalities.  It sounds great, but it is only about 85% accurate.  This means that around 15% of women get falsely normal or abnormal results.  So everyone has the possibilities of having falsely normal results, since it is a screening test which only assesses the risk of having a baby with Down Syndrome, Trisomy 13 or Trisomy 18.  I was given a 1 in 5283 chance of having a baby with Down Syndrome and less than 1 in 10,000 chance of having a baby with Trisomy 13 or 18.  Those are excellent odds, yes, and I am reassure, but ultimately it doesn't mean anything.  We weren't going to get an amniocentesis to verify any genetic disorders.  We weren't going to terminate the pregnancy with any of the information we received.  Now we have the reassurance that we have a minuscule chance of having a baby with a genetic disorder...but it didn't rule it out completely.  So why did we do it? 

Kevin wanted to get it done to use the pregnancy to educate ourselves on a possible Down Syndrome baby.  We now know the chance is very small, so we aren't going to do that.  But what if...?  We might have considered giving birth at the hospital if it were likely that this babe would have heart troubles due to Down Syndrome.  But now we know that the chance is very small, so we aren't going to do that.  But what if...?  So really, what was the point?  I know that some people would have had an amnio to confirm possible abnormal results, but we would have just worried about it for 6 more months, for possibly no reason at all.  If I had been given a 1 in 12 chance of having a baby with Down Syndrome, how would I have spent the next 6 months?  Crying?  Stressed?  Worried?  Probably.  And I STILL might have had a perfectly normal, healthy baby.  Now I am happy and reassured, but I STILL might have a baby with a genetic disorder.

This is not to poo-poo the test.  I think it is a good tool in many cases, especially for women who either have a family history of Down Syndrome or are older mothers.  And it IS very reassuring.  But the genetic counseling they give you before the scan when you get to the ripe old age of 35 is a little frightening.  They show you this graph of exponential increasing risk as you get older.  It is scary and makes me want to not have any more kids.  And it makes you feel like you are old.  When my mom had my older brother in the early seventies, she was called labeled as AMA - Advanced Maternal Age - at 28 years old!  I must be having a positively geriatric pregnancy!  Well, actually, according to official definition, I AM!  GERIATRIC!  At 34 years old! Anyway, I digress.

This baby - like its sister - will be born at home. I will have a natural birth, possibly in a pool.  We are seeing lovely all-green midwives.  We cloth diaper.  I breastfeed (still breastfeeding my 19 month old).  What made us decide, amidst all this return-to-nature, keep-it-simple child birth choices and parenting made us decide to go all high tech for information that is, generally speaking, fairly useless? 

My question is - did you get the First Trimester Screening done?  Why?  Why not? 

I guess we DID get a great picture of the little nipper, though.  So that's something.

Early Pregnancy Again

February 1, 2011

Five weeks and counting.  I have a ticker for my pregnancy-obsessing buddy group on Taking Charge of Your Fertility .  Those pregnancy tickers they have on sites like Baby-Gaga and Pregnology and 500 other baby/pregnancy themed websites make me obsess about every day of the pregnancy.  Every day I look at my ticker and I see "I am 5 weeks and 3 days pregnant.  Only 242 days to go".  Then I see the little blob that is looking more and more like a teeny little human being - right now s/he has flippers.  FLIPPERS!  At FIVE WEEKS!



I like this one from Baby-Gaga.  I like that it injects humor into the process.  Right now, it says "Even though I'm only 3.5mm big, my brain is growing fast & I already have more brain cells than Paris Hilton.  I'm 5 weeks & 3 days old, only 242 days to go!  By the time this posts some time in March, it will be saying something about wondering if I have a hotdog or a hamburger.  Referring humorously to the fact that on an ultrasound girlie parts look like little hamburgers and boy parts look like hot dogs.  You can, of course get the straight developmental facts in the tickers.  But you can get the week-by-week development anywhere!  Give me the funny!

Because nothing feels funny right now.  I want to cry most of the time.  Lucy doing something cute makes me cry.  Lucy doing something frustrating makes me cry.  Stories on WTOP News makes me cry.  Baby Signing Time makes me cry.  Car commercials make me cry.  Burned eggs make me cry.  I can't turn around without something making me cry.

Also, I am crabby.  I want to bite everyone's head off.  Everything that comes out of my mouth is mean and snarky and acidic.  And I can't even use the "I'm pregnant, back off" comment.  We haven't told anyone yet, not even our parents.  I want to wait till I hear that heartbeat.  Which won't happen till 10 weeks or so.

Now, let me preface this next section by saying I love and adore my mother. She is wonderful and helpful and proactive and her energy is enviable.  But she drives me nuts sometimes. We haven't told them we are pregnant yet because of wanting to heat the heartbeat first, AND we have a fun surprise. Which I believe is ruined now. My mom and dad were here this weekend while I was away for work (I had a trip Sat-Sun, Kevin had a show last night while I was gone and then left today for his trip before I got home, so we needed coverage for Lucy).  My mom is a maniacal launderer.  She won't stop.  She digs through everything looking for dirty laundry to do while she is here.  That is lovely of her, yes, and it is nice not to have to do laundry. But Kevin doesn't want her to do his laundry (something about his mother-in-law folding his boxers...) and I feel bad having her do my laundry while she is here doing us a huge favor.  Plus I end up having to pick up and refold everything because my mom has some sort of thing against laundry baskets - everything is always stacked about 30 feet high on top of the bed, so it falls over in heaps before I get a chance to put it away. (God I sound ungrateful).  So I have told her as nicely as possible to not do the laundry...which she does anyway. So today I get home and, shockingly, all the laundry is done and stacked on the bed (Kevin's boxers folded neatly).   All of Lucy's laundry is done.  I don't really think anything of it other than to say "Please, Mom, you don't have to do our laundry!".  I go into my office after she has left and notice she has rearranged some things...probably searching for ONE MORE TOWEL to wash (though why it would be in my office, I do not know).  On my desk are all my positive home pregnancy tests.  I say "tests" not "test" because I have been obsessively peeing on things since 9 days past ovulation.  I can't stop peeing on things - just to make sure I am still pregnant.  Anyway, this sad pile of pee-soaked sticks - the proof of my obsession - has been moved...every so slightly.  And on top of Lucy's pile of laundry is the "I'm Going to be a Big Sister" shirt that I was going to wash and stow away until we were ready for the big reveal.  Folded neatly.  See the plan was to take a picture of Lucy wearing the shirt and send it to our family.  Or we were going to dress her in it, bring her over to their house and just wait to see how long it took for them to notice.  She didn't say anything when I got home, but I think she would have to be an idiot not to have put two and two together.  I am hoping she put on her Oblivious Hat and didn't even notice. 
 
If I weren't pregnant, I would be able to shrug this off, but I AM SO IRRITATED.  Or I was 20 minutes ago.  My mood changes with the wind.