A Lesson on Adoption and another Baby Shower

A few posts ago I mentioned my New Teacher Support Provider, Sharon, who happens to have been be a kindergarten teacher for something in the neighborhood of 20 years. Today after school we were talking about how one of the reasons I am sad to leave my job is that I get to see the same kids year after year as they progress through the grades. In just the two short years I've been in Vista I am constantly amazed at how my students grow and change. Sharon commented, along those same lines, on how many of her Kindergartners come back for visits year after year.

These students nearly all ask her the same thing. They ask her if she still does the thing they all, apparently remember best. The ask her if she still hatches chicks at the end of the year.

The answer to this, of course, is yes.

I have no idea how it started but each year Sharon gets the incubator out and few dozen eggs from a local farm somewhere. Then, together with her students waits patiently until they hatch. For the last few weeks of the school year the children have several peeping classroom pets to look after before they eventually go back to the farm to meet whatever fate might happen to chickens on farms. (I find its best not to think about that part.)

This year, however, something was wrong with the eggs and they never hatched. :(

No worries. Sharon decided to make it a teachable moment. She explained to her kids that sometimes there are people who want very badly to be mommies and daddies but are disappointed, just as they were disappointed when none of the eggs hatched. Then she explained that there are also sometimes babies or children who for a lot of different reasons NEED a Mommy or a Daddy to take care of them. The class talked about the reasons why children might need a Mommy or a Daddy before learning that when these children are taken in by new parents it is called "adoption."

Sharon explained to her students that after the eggs did not turn out, she decided she should adopt some chicks for the class instead.

And here they are:


I love that she turned her yearly chicken process into such an amazing lesson for her young students. I'm sure, just as all the kids who came before, this year's class will never forget the baby chicks they adopted.

And of course, you all know me, which means I had to get some cuddles in.



I might not have any idea what to do when this baby is born, but cute little animals I can handle. :)

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In other news, the teachers at Beaumont threw me a baby shower this afternoon.

Because I have a sweet tooth, (or rather a whole mouth full of fillings as a direct result of having a whole lot of sweet teeth)here is a picture of the cake:


Not really sure if there are really yellow storks, but I figure that MUST be what that is because if it were a yellow chick the beak is all wrong and that would just be a weird thing to have on a baby shower cake.

Here I am showing off the visor they had made for me. It is decorated with little baby booties and bottles and rattles and stuff.


I also feel the need to point out that the dress I am wearing is NOT a maternity dress. It is one of several baby doll style dresses that I had hanging in my closet from the good old days when I actually could see my feet. These days I find myself wondering why all the dresses I owned before were cut so perfectly for pregnancy.

The gifts at this shower were mostly very different than my previous shower. It was plainly obvious that the gifts were from teachers as Baby and I received MANY children's books. The fifth grade teachers went one step further and focused on my own field giving us an early music education gift set:


I think it is just about the cutest thing ever.

Sadly I don't think Matt is nearly as excited about the impending noise as I am. He won't even let me open the packaging yet.

Just call me Shamu, Shamu-moo-moo!

I'm not really sure why it didn't make the news, but yesterday down at Torrey Pines State beach there was a beached whale:



Can someone please tell me how it is possible that I have 6 more weeks left to get BIGGER?

Ew.

To further my point I asked Matt why he put me so far to the left in the frame. He said that he wanted to make sure my whole belly fit.

Har. Har. Har.

And to think he asked me this morning why he was all sun burnt and I'm not. Karma can be a bitch sometimes.

The Latest and not-so Greatest

I suffer from a personality flaw. Well, more than one, actually, but this one particular issue has reared its ugly head lately and has caused a little bit of a stir.

You see, I have this almost compulsive NEED to let people know when they can look better. Man does that ever make me sound like a bitch, and I'm sure many of you would agree, but really I do mean it out of love. The thing is I, by no means, think I look perfect all the time... no, its definitely NOT that. But if I'm walking around with spinach in my teeth or my hair is completely messed up or my jeans make my butt look like a semi-truck, I REALLY, REALLY hope somebody will tell me.

Reversing that logic, you can pretty much always count on me to let you know if you are suffering somewhere in the area of your looks.

I do try to be nice about it.

But apparently "nice" has never been my strong suit.

For the record, when my brother and I had our falling out a few years back there were a whole slew of reasons. However, my brother did cite my brutal honesty as a major cause on his side. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now.

Anyway... if your wondering what one Earth I'm talking about head over to this post on Lori's blog (where I started the whole mess) and check out the comments section. Then, for the rest of the story, see her responsory blog post here and of course, be sure to check out the corresponding comments.

*sigh*

For the record Lori, I did mean it out of love and I didn't mean to embarrass you or hurt your feelings. The whole thing is sort of funny, if it did make me feel like a big meanie. Maybe the Internet isn't the best place for fashion advice.

Life's a lesson you learn as you go.

(Or something like that.)

****************************

In other news, as I've been laying on the couch this morning typing this the baby has been hiccuping non-stop. This is by no means news, except for WHERE I am feeling the little jerking movements. According to a variety of Internet sources if the hiccuping movements are felt down by my pelvis that means Baby is upside down in my belly and all ready for the big arrival. According to many of these same websites, by this stage in the pregnancy (which for means me 33 weeks plus 6 days) Baby is not supposed to be able to turn again.

This morning, for the first time ever I felt Baby's hiccups on my left side. Up until now I've only felt movements down near my pelvis and off to the right side near my ribs, which I took to mean Baby was upside down, though perhaps leaning a little to my right.

This morning as I felt the hiccups on on the left side of my body I reached the Internet inspired conclusion that my little one is decidedly sideways and therefore, NEVER coming out.

Great.

****************************

One more thing. This past week has been a bit of a killer. Last Friday was the first of my four school's Spring performances. The weekend went way too fast, since Matt had to work all day Saturday and when Monday rolled around I was by no means prepared. Especially since Wednesday morning I had to conduct the second school's Spring performance.

As soon as the kids were done singing I wanted to go home and go to bed. Of course this wasn't possible since I had an entire afternoon of classes to teach ahead of my after school was the end of BTSA Spring Colloquium.

If you're unaware of what BTSA is, well, its Hell. No, I'm kidding. It's not that bad. Basically its a two year mentoring and induction program for new teachers in the state of California. Its supposed to help ensure that new teachers get the support they need and have a system of checks and balances that ensures those new teachers are taking care of business so to speak. It is a giant pain in the butt. Any program that give new teachers extra work is stupid if you ask me, but nobody ever did. The only good thing about the program is it matches you with a mentor like "support provider" who is a an experienced teacher you can always turn to when you're struggling.

Anyway, last Wednesday night was the end of it for me! Yea!

The only sad part about completing BTSA for me is saying goodbye to Sharon, my Support Provider.

Sharon, is amazing. She's been teaching Kindergarten for like 20 years and has children my age. There is really absolutely no reason why she should have been assigned to me, since she knows practically nothing about music but she took me on anyway. For the last 2 years she's guided me, not so much as a teacher, but as a person. She has let me cry on her shoulder over my students and the other teachers, and the principals, and the entire deployment and she's always been amazing and listened and pointed me to God. I can not even really put into words how amazing she is but I am tremendously grateful to have had her be a part of my life.

I know this is weird, but the best way I can describe her is she's like "Mokey Fraggle."



I'm sure if you never watched Fraggle Rock in the '80s I just lost you but Mokey is the older, wiser, calmer Fraggle. She's the one that gives helpful advice and a hugs when her little Fraggle friends are stressed out. She's like, the heart at the center of that shows' furry little cast and without her everything just might fall apart.

That's kind of what Sharon has been to me.



(She even somehow manages to look just a little like her Muppet counterpart.)

I can only thank God that He brought her into my life.

Medicated

It's apx 10:15 on Saturday morning and I just woke up.

(For those of you who knew me in any previous version of my life you probably aren't surprised by how late that is. If anything you're thinking it's pretty early for me.)

So what's the big deal? Well.... two things really. Since I get up at 6 during the week these days, the latest I normally sleep on weekends is some place between 8:30 and 9:00.

Also, there's the fact that I went to sleep last night at 8:00.

Holy crap I just slept for 14 hours!!!

(Although technically I did wake up somewhere in the neighborhood of 742 times to go pee.)

(Also, on that note, I fell asleep in front of the fan on my husband's side of the bed- which is closer to the bathroom, and at some point in there I found myself rolling over looking for him and I almost fell out of bed. Matt apparently left me where I was when he came to bed because I've been complaining about waddling around the room every time I have to go potty. I'm not sure if switching sides so I can be closer to the bathroom door is going to work if my body instinctively goes to the left looking for him and I fall out of bed in the process.)

So, getting back to my mini-hibernation last night, what happened?

Last week at the Doctor I was complaining about the constant itchy skin stretched across my baby bump. It's been driving me NUTSO since about the 4 month mark. On several occasions I've managed to bruise myself from the scratching and no amount of lotion or cocoa butter or ointment really seems to help. So my midwife looked at my nearly translucent stretched-out skin and noted a slight rash "developing." She said it might be the early signs of Pupps or maybe heat rash (which I do tend to get on my stomach pretty often if its hot,) or, it might be something else entirely. She decided to prescribe me some help.

Thursday I was finally able to find the time to swing by the pharmacy and pick up her cures. First there is a bottle of this amazing lotiony stuff that works kind of like Ben Gay and cools/numbs my entire tummy. (Unfortunately it also smells something like gasoline, but I guess you have to take the good with the bad.) There is also a bottle of small pills. She mentioned that the pills would help with the itching. She also said they'd likely help me to calm down sleep better. At the time I assumed she meant I would sleep better because I wouldn't itching and scratching.

No, in reality that is not what she meant at all. When I read the prescription facts and paperwork I found that the pills are a mild form of an anti-anxiety drug that also sometimes helps to reduce itchiness.

Hmmm.

Now, maybe I'm being a tad bit sensitive about this, because I've been on various anti-depressants and anti-anxiety pills in the past, but I'm trying to figure out if my mid-wife, having listened to me stress out about everything baby-related over the last 8 months, just made an executive decision to "trick" me into going back on meds.

Anyway, since she has assured me that these pills are safe for Baby, I started taking them Friday and the result was I slept for 14 hours. I'm not sure what I think about that, but apparently they're working

I do however know that since Matt had to work today, Brutus seemed pretty happy to have his Mommy home in bed with him. When my eyes popped open he was asleep next to me with his head on the pillow and his body half under the covers. He is, like, the most ridiculous dog ever.

Doing what's "breast"

I've mentioned this briefly in passing before, but I need to seriously address something. Here. Now.

I have a tremendous, overwhelming, completely irrational fear

of

breast feeding.

(duhn, duhn, DUHN!!!!)


Let me start by saying that I was not breast fed and I tend to be one of the healthiest people on the planet. Sure, there is also the fact that I NEVER really got along with my mother (not even when I was a baby... supposedly I didn't like her holding me while I took my bottle) but there is absolutely no proof that the bottle feeding had anything to do with that.

So, as a result, I always just worked with the assumption that I would bottle feed my own children, if, at some point, I ever got around to having any.

I never really thought there was any issue with this. Yes, I am aware that medical science definitely comes out in favor of the breast, but I also always thought it was my choice.

Now that I am pregnant, well, I've found this to be completely false.

Everyone, and I do mean everyone, seems to think that if I choose not to nurse my child I will be severely ruining our ability to bond and surely damaging him/her for life.

By now you are probably thinking, "so just do it, what's the big deal?"

Well, let me try to tackle my issues in an orderly fashion:

1. My Body Image
I am EXTREMELY self conscious about my chest. Seriously. It's small, it's always been small and I am very embarrassed by it (even now, with pregnant boobs.) I barely feel comfortable letting my husband see or touch my chest and have absolutely no idea how I'm supposed to allow a small little creature to suckle off of it. Plus, when you first start nursing there are supposed to be all these lactation specialists getting all up in your business inspecting your work and your form and trying to ensure you're doing it right. Frankly, the mere thought of this makes me wanna die.

2. Pain and Suffering
My ta-tas, if you will. are VERY sensitive. This being the main reason why my husband is not really allowed to touch them. All I can say is OUCH. This is not even bringing mention to all the apx. 7000 women who have told me to start roughing up my nipples now (with everything from a rag or towel to a loofah) to prepare for the pain and cracking or whatever later. As if I'm not struggling enough with this already.

3. Privacy
This child, no doubt, is, at some point, going to want/need to eat someplace other than the privacy of one of our bedrooms. So, right, I'm supposed to cover up with a blankie or something, whip out one of my girls, attach my baby too it and then go on about my business or my conversation or whatever in PUBLIC?!?!?! Wait a second, forget public, I can't even imagine doing this in front of Matt or his mother or my Grandmother (who are supposed to come to help when the baby comes) in my living room.

4. Two words: Breast Pump.
Yes I realize that this is a necessary part of successful nursing, especially if I am ever going to have more than like 4 hours of Independence once this kid comes, but... ACK! Who even invented those machines. They look like medieval torture devices.

5. Regarding Bonding
I'm about to make some enemies, and probably offend a lot of people, but I have to, no, I NEED to say this:

Women who talk about how nursing makes you feel like a mother, and is the most amazing thing ever and how they never wanted to stop and how its JUST the BEST FEELING EVER really bug the crap out of me. And scare me quite a lot.

Now, I certainly can't speak for myself yet, because I'm not there, yet.... but based on my feeling regarding the matter so far (see items #1-4) I am inclined to doubt, highly that I will feel this way. In fact, I feel that I am more likely to resent the poor child for torturing me with the struggles to nurse and the pain, and everything. And, THE LAST THING I EVER WANT TO DO is resent my child.

As far as the new born bonding goes, again, I'm not there yet, but I already feel pretty bonded with my child. With ever kick we grow closer. With every set of hiccups I love this baby more. I imagine what his/her thoughts are any time my belly changes shape. So, I already feel we're very connected.

And, you know what I think.... screw all that bonding talk anyway. What about mothers who CAN'T nurse or about adopted children? The notion that those women are in any way LESS connected to their children is frankly, RIDICULOUS.

6. A Healthy Baby.
So, apparently, according to, well, everyone I've EVER met, nursing is, like SOOOOO much better for baby's health. My breast milk can help the baby build up immunities and stuff. If I nurse baby is less likely to have allergies and be overweight. Etc, etc, etc.

Trust me. I hear you. I get it.

But in the face of all this reason I have my own sanity to consider. Here's the thing. I WANT to do what's best for my baby. I really, really, really do. But, first of all, there is NO guarantee of a healthy baby EVER. Breast Milk or formula. And, I do have my own needs to consider as I'm sure becoming a new mother will have enough challenges all on its own with out my having sore-boobie-induced nervous breakdowns.

A few weeks ago I was talking to a teacher who has a severe peanut allergy. I asked her if she'd had it as a child or if it had developed later in her life. This woman actually had the nerve to come right out and blame her mother for not nursing and "giving" her the allergy. A few days later I was having a conversation with some Special Education teachers about my Autistic cousin Chris and someone asked if my Aunt had bottle fed him. As if that might have "caused" it.

Pardon me, but what a bunch of B.S.

But...
What if I bottle feed and then this kid has a severe allergy. Or autism? Will I ever be able to believe it isn't my fault??? I'm literally making myself crazy here.

7. Baby Weight
Many women I've talked to swear that nursing their babies has enabled them to loose all the baby weight and get skinny again quickly. This makes a fair bit of sense to me, as it would tend to burn a lot of calories to produce food for your offspring. A book I read also said something about the lactation process shrinking you uterus faster.

These 2 pieces of information, honestly, sound like some of the best news I've heard in, well, 8 months. Call me vain, call me selfish, but I WANT to be skinny again, after this baby.... ASAP.

Of course then there's those other women. The ones who did nurse and stayed fat.



*******

So where does all this leave me?

In the beginning of this pregnancy I believed firmly that I would give nursing the good, honest, college try. My goal would be 6 weeks. If I made it to 6 weeks I'd try for 3 months. After 3 months, I'd try for 6. Etc.

However as my due date looms closer, I'm really loosing my nerve.

Last week after our 8 month check up, Matt and I were discussing the birthing plan. When I got to the breast feeding questions I started to cry. Sitting there, at my kitchen counter considering my options on drugs, delivery positions, and whether or not Matt would be cutting the cord suddenly made this whole thing very real. And in reality, when I considered nursing my infant, I started to cry.

This can't be a good sign.

I don't know what to do.

Because I honestly do believe its best, and I do want to do what's best.
I just really don't know if I can. It literally freaks me out.

And if I decide I can't, am I going to be able to fight off the Breast-Feeding Nazi Nurse (AKA-lactation specialist) in the hospital???

Maternity Photos

My good friend who also happens to be a photographer was out visiting this past weekend.  She took some awesome shots of me in all my, um, maternal splendor.

Here are my favorites:

(She told him to kiss my tummy and instead he blew a raspberry!)

Conflicting Wills

Today at work a friend of mine told me that when she was expecting her daughter she made it to 41 weeks with out any signs of labor. At her weekly doctor's appointment she'd said something about how apparently her baby wasn't ready to come out yet. In response to this, her doctor told her that going into labor has absolutely NOTHING to do with the readiness of the baby to be born, but has everything to do with the mother's body being ready to deliver.

Hmmm.

And suddenly a new irrational fear was born into my mind.

What if my body is never ready to deliver???

I mean, even with 9 weeks to go I'm certainly ready to be done being pregnant. I WANT my body back. However, if I think about that too much I'll start to have a little nervous breakdown because I know that the only way to get my body back is to deliver the baby, and as much as I want to meet my child, I suddenly feel very unprepared to be responsible for another teeny-tiny human being. Not to mention the fact that as my due date looms steadily closer, my fears about the delivery room grow and grow.

With all that being said, and me being a strong believer in mind over matter, what if my mind never let's my body go into labor?

I'm going to be pregnant FOREVER.

*sigh*

On the other hand, last week I was talking to another teacher who has two children, both of which were the happy blessings she received after torturous, bed-ridden, pain filled pregnancies. Her second son, as it turned out, was born 10 weeks early due to the complications in her pregnancy. (Thankfully, he has since grown and developed into a nice, healthy, rambunctious toddler these days.) She says her husband still "accuses" her of willing that baby out of her early.

So..... Why can't I do that???

(Aside from the growing fears and mini-nervous breakdowns I mean.)

I mean, I'll wait a few more weeks to ensure my child will come out good and healthy but the idea of being this humongous or even humongous-er for the next 2 months, OR EVEN MORE, hurts me to think about.

Just call me little Miss Impatient-Pants.

And, here's the thing, my Aunt had her daughter something like 5 weeks early. She had the easiest labor of anyone I've ever heard of. She had a nice, small 5-ish pound baby, who has since grown to be a nice healthy, well rounded pre-teen. So if you can have your baby a month early and that baby can be completely healthy and fine.... WHY wouldn't you??? You get to be pregnant for a whole month LESS.

I wonder if my desire to not be pregnant any more can over-power my newly forming fears about getting the baby out and actually being successful as a mother?

Or, I need to just pray for a healthy kiddo and allow God to do his thing determine the timeline. (Why can't it be easier to trust Him?)

Baby Shower

Thursday after school some of my teacher friends were nice enough to organize a baby shower for me. I have to admit I was pretty excited, since I never had a bridal shower, but also that I was completely nervous. As outgoing as I tend to be, I don't like being the center of attention, especially not when I am humongous in the middle.

A few days before the event it occurred to me that since it was a co-ed shower and teachers from each of my schools were invited, that maybe Matt should come. Now, believe me when I tell you that I did not expect him to WANT to come, but I really wanted him to be there. He is the Daddy after all, and he is generally pretty wonderful and I wanted to show him off some. Also, if he was there he would undoubtedly goof around enough to take a great deal of the attention off me.

I pestered him about coming for a few days, but as of Thursday morning I had yet to get any official word one way or the other from him and I was beginning to doubt whether or not he was even going to ask for permission to leave early in order to come. As I drove to work that morning it occurred to me that I could ask for him. Surely his superiors would never turn down a very, polite, pregnant wife... would they? So, when I got to work I typed up a brief email, choosing my words very carefully mind you so as not to offend my husband's Captain or Executive Officer, asking if they would send him my way in time for the party.

About an hour later I received a response from the Captain saying he was happy to oblige. I felt very glad.

However, about an hour later the Executive Officer (AKA, XO or second in command who normally would make decisions about whether or not people can leave early) responded as well. He is known to be a bit of a kidder and was pretty much shocked that I'd had the nerve to go over his head to the Captain with my request. He was taking it upon himself to embarrass Matt as much as possible for my "appalling" behavior. He also thought Matt was pretty ridiculous for even considering attending my baby shower.

So Matt was taking a pretty good ribbing. Then randomly Kevin, one of the guys who used to work on the ship but now works for the Commodore (AKA, Matt's Captain's boss, or the guy who is in charge of not only Matt's ship but about six others) happened to call on the phone and hear about the good fun everyone was having making fun of Matt.

Kevin, took it upon himself to take the joke a step further. The Commodore, working upon Kevin's request, called over to the ship feigning anger and demanding to speak to someone who know who Matt was and WHY his wife was calling him begging that her husband be allowed to get of work early. Matt's bosses passed the phone to Matt and my poor husband just stood there in shock getting yelled at wondering how on earth I'd even known who his boss's boss was to be able to call him.

Eventually, the Commodore cracked and let poor Matt off easy, explaining that Kevin had set the whole thing up. Unfortunately by that time I think Matt had had enough because when I called him a short while later he refused to talk to me.

Oops.

But of course, he had no choice to attend the shower since everybody now knew about it. And thankfully, somehow, on the 50 mile drive from the base up to Vista he managed to calm down enough that eventually he did enjoy the party (although I'm sure he'd never admit it.)

So anyway, getting back to the Shower itself, my friends REALLY outdid themselves. Christina COMPLETELY rearranged her fourth grade classroom and her party planning partner, Maria allowed all of Christina's classroom junk to be put into her room to make it work. It was honestly so much more than I ever expected. I don't think I can even use words to do it all justice, so here, instead, are some pictures.

To begin with, the cake (apparently made by Sam's club) was Gorgeous!



When I first saw that little gum paste baby on top I almost cried. I also have to confess it was hard to resist a humongous urge to lift up that little bottom covering leaf and peer at its little baby butt cheeks....



After the party we ripped the whole baby piece off the top and saved it. It's sitting in my kitchen right now, and Matt is eagerly awaiting my permission to bite the cute little baby head off.

I've heard of and seen diaper cake centerpieces for showers before but after finding out how much they cost I certainly never expected one at my own shower. I guess I should have known better than to underestimate how awesome teachers can be, because apparently, Christina took it upon herself to make one:



She did a great job!

(Unfortunately, upon getting the diaper cake home I found my fat cat choking on one of the ribbons he had decided to try to eat and I was forced to dismantle it and pack the diapers away for safe keeping. Silly kitties.)

Our school counselors organized a few games. Here we are playing a fill-in-the-blank Nursery Rhyme game. Also notice in the background the adorable clothes line of baby items used to decorate the wall. :)



Inevitably, there was the guess how big Mommy's tummy is game which Maria (a young mother herself) took very seriously:



Here is Christina measuring me to find the winner:



And of course, the event was complete when I was buried under tissue and wrapping paper from all the presents:



I am so lucky and blessed not only to be having this baby, but to have amazing friends and coworkers who throw a great party and very obliging husband who made an appearance as well.