Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Baby Showers & Birthing Plans.

Last week I had the privilege of being a part of the San Antonio Blogger Baby Shower at The Twig bookstore, it was wonderful! Baby was super thrilled to be showered with the gifts (and food!), we both appreciate all the spoiling from the bloggers who joined in and made this night possible for us. Plus, who doesn't love an event that's hosted at a bookstore?! I had to practice some serious self control.
The moms/moms-to-be got spoiled with awesome goodies! I've been using my Belly Balm daily.

Onesie decorating station!
Baby's cousin designed her this special little number.
I'm thinking she'll wear it whenever we go somewhere extra fancy.
This picture not only shows my loot from the evening,
but also showcases my amazing photography skills! Ha.

A huge thank you again to everyone for making this possible and for making me feel so welcomed! You ladies are too sweet! Also, I should thank whoever brought the ABC Zoo Born book (the book peeking out with the baby koala on the cover)...I seriously flipped through each page and got weepy. By the time Baby gets to enjoy it, the pages will be tear stained and worn. (Is there anything cuter than a picture of a newborn sloth yawning?!)  

The book I couldn't pass up!
My life has turned into a whirlwind of baby planning. The nursery has been painted, the crib has been assembled, there's a stroller sitting against the wall by our stairs and a carrier sitting in the middle of the living room (it's also been snapped into it's car base. Don't ask.)
On top of the things I've been using to distract myself from what's at the end of this tunnel (it's labor, by the way. That's what's coming around the corner. At the speed of light), I've arrived at the time in my pregnancy when I feel like it's appropriate to start thinking about birthing plans. That's an actual term, birthing plan. You're supposed to give this actual thought and prepare yourself for it, because apparently, "Just get it out of me as quickly as you can, while I endure as little pain as possible" doesn't count. 
So The Deputy and I have been having conversations about the birthing plan on a semi-daily basis. That's just how I function. If something bothers me, I have to think and talk about it constantly until I've either resolved it or come to terms with it. So we talk. And then we talk. And then I go inside my head and talk to myself. And then I talk out loud some more.
What I've discovered is this: I know absolutely nothing and was absolutely not thinking this through at the time we decided to make a person that I would be in charge of growing and expelling from my loins. I did, however, spend a lot of that time planning how I would tell everyone the exciting news. Which went out the window approximately 5 minutes after the double lines appeared on the stick and I sent out a mass text message. So much for all of that overanalyzing. This discovery has greatly disappointed me. Not that I believe any woman actually wants to give birth, but I do believe that it just doesn't bother some women the way it's bothering me.
For example, my mother. I was only present at one of her births (and my memory of it is very hazy, seeing as I was just focusing on breathing air for the first time), but I imagine her births being similar to the way Lois gives birth to Reese in Malcolm in the Middle. If you've never seen Reese's birth story, you should watch it and think of my mom. If I have one ounce of my mother in me I'll be able to grit my teeth and deliver this child with minimal whining/feeling sorry for myself. If I have two ounces of my mother in me, I'll be able to push the baby out in a predetermined number of pushes (because I said you're coming out in 3 pushes and that's all I'm going to give you!) and cut the umbilical cord with my teeth. Thankfully, my mother will be beside me the entire time, so even if I find out that I was adopted and am biologically zero ounces my mom, something about her being in the room will help me through this.
My birthing coach will-of course-be The Deputy. Currently known as 'the guy who did this to me'. The Deputy has an unfair advantage because he can't speak from experience in this matter and my answer to everything is seriously:
But while I silently resent him for not having a uterus so we could have at least flipped a coin to decide which one of us got to keep our underwear on in the delivery room I also know I can depend on him for anything and he's going to be amazing at all things birthing and fathering.
The Deputy my spoiler alert in life. Which I know sounds mean, if you enjoy surprises and being unprepared for life in general. I do not. I'm the person who watches Big Brother episodes only after I've already read the recap so I know what to expect. I read the last pages of books before I start reading. I don't watch a movie without going to IMDB and I don't walk through my house without turning the lights on before I enter each room. So I see spoiler alerts as friendly little hints. They help you cautiously decide what to do at every turn, minimizing fear and disappointment. (That's right, I experience those emotions when watching Big Brother). But I also find that same kind of comfort in The Deputy. From the very beginning I've  known that he could and would be able to always take care of me (that's what I get for being the baby of the family). I love the security I have in him and I know that no matter what happens in the delivery room, he's going to get me through it. At the end of the day, when it's all said and done, when I'm tired and worn out, when I've given everything I have and our baby is with us, I know he will wrap us up in his love and take us home.
So my official birthing plan currently consists of: #1. Let's try this thing with no drugs, #2. Please let me be my mother's biological daughter and #3. For my coach: do not let this baby kill me.
I think it sounds pretty legitimate. We'll see how it turns out in 18 1/2 weeks. In the meantime you can find me hiding in my bed, reading my the baby's ABC Zoo Born book and crying myself to sleep. (Don't worry, the tears are mostly from the baby animals. Did I mention the baby sloth picture?!)

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