Yes, actually I would like a little cheese with my whine.*
I have decided that one of the first things I am going to do when I get to heaven is track Eve down. I am going to march right up to her and say, 'Hey thanks a lot for eating that apple.' Not that I might not have been tempted myself, but I wasn't offered a tainted apple.
Here is the good thing about pregnancy and consequently,child birth. The baby. The end.
I understand that there are women out there that would suffer through much more pain to have a child come from their womb. I sympathize with that, and at one point I was right there with them. I am still right there with you, doesn't make childbearing and birth, again, thanks to Eve, any better, but I just want to encourage you in the fact that the plan for you is greater. Could you just imagine? We were right there, saying well obviously we aren't supposed to get pregnant to raise a child, let's explore other options, and BAM, pregnant with Kendall. This my dear friends, let me tell you, is my challenge and purpose, this girl was given specifically to me. No doubt about it, chosen with humor and purpose. 'Ha Ha, you asked for this!' Not that Kendall isn't a wonderful child, and that I don't love every single ounce of her, she is just Kendall. Simply put; she is just Kendall. I have a strong faith in the fact that the desire to be a mother is not overlooked, the means may be different for each person, but it is there for a reason, and will be fulfilled if you are seeking actively to fill it.
However, with that said, the chosen method for me after much doubt that it would ever be this way, is through child bearing and birth. Not without its challenges and heartaches, which you can read about in my past blog entries, but none the less, this is the means to our end, our little cherubs. Does not mean in any way that it makes it any easier. Does not mean that I won't whine, because I will. Give me a podium, I will go on for days.
But I mean come on, 8 months pregnant with a sumo wrestler? This is just not funny anymore. I will be getting an ultrasound to check the size of this child within the next two weeks. My doctor asked me what my cut off was for vaginal birth. 10 pounds, I guess? My She-ra friend Trista says that I can do it, no matter what the size. Uh, yeah, have you seen the size of my children's heads? They themselves weigh 6 pounds at birth. She also seems to think that breastfeeding is a wonderful thing. Not knocking it, because I haven't tried it, but I think I am going to with this one. However, it does not help that every single thing I read about breastfeeding lets me know that it is very painful. One woman went as far as to say that it was walking around with a paper cut on your boob that is constantly being irritated and then sucked on producing liquid that makes it sting. Awesome. My friend Cherie says that once I clear the 3 week mark with it, I will be fine. Excuse me? 3 weeks? How about the 3rd time, or the third day? Does she not remember not sleeping more then maybe 2 hours a day for a month, and then to top it off you get to have your breasts tortured?!?! I don't know people. Specifically, I don't know you la leche leaguers, I might fail you big time. And don't even try it, don't even say it, 'oh you are setting yourself up for failure.' Just shut up. Every time I am in Target that aisle with the formula just says to me...'this will make your like one million times easier.' If it makes me a wimp, well then, I will take getting picked last in gym class. I am going to try it though, alright? I invested in books, Cherie gave me her pump to use. But calloused nipples? What in the world?!?? But I swear if it doesn't grant me some weight loss, I am so selfish sometimes.
I must though confess the greatest selfishness in all of this. During your hospital stay you have the option of taking the baby to the nursery through the night. Now if you are a formula feeder, they feed the baby every two hours through the night. You get where I am going with this right? Before I had Kendall a piece of advice was bestowed upon me, 'since you are going to be bottle feeding, send the baby to the nursery at night so that you can sleep, because once you are home, there is no nursery to send them to.' They of course bring the baby back to you at 6 am, before the shift change, but just the same, the drop off happens at 10 p.m. So with this knowledge, Andy and I dropped Kendall and Ethan off both nights we were there for their first sleepover parties. I am certain that the nurses were like, 'lazy mother,' in complete honesty, I could care less. If you breast feed, this option is still open to you, but since your boobs aren't velcroed on, SURPRISE!, the baby is delivered to you each time it shows that it is hungry. And then you actually have to ring the bell and actually tell someone that they can take the baby back to the nursery. I don't think I would have the balls to do this, and so guess what? A wretched breast feeding beast is formed. Hey, I told you it was a selfish confession, but having gotten home with Kendall and having 3 sleepless nights in a row right off he bat, I was thankful for the sleep I got in the hospital.
So you know, breastfeeding sounds like fun...
Right now I am in the end stages. I waddle worse then a duck. I am not sleeping at night, because when you get to this point you have to rotate sides to be comfortable thanks to the hip pain about every hour or so. I am out of breath when I simply just walk across a room. I seriously pant like a dog. When this child is growing I immediately feel it, and he wants to be fed. Last night I was up at 2 a.m. feeding it cocoa pebbles. Nutritious. And I get to hear every time I see someone, 'Wow you are bigger then the last time I saw you.' Just what every woman wants to hear. It's really uplifting. And the charlie horses, oh the charlie horses! They are worse after I work, obviously, because I am on my feet anywhere from 8-16 hours on a shift, yeah, that's right,now you all know where I will most likely go into labor. But anyway, the other night I seriously thought that someone was taking a power drill with the biggest bit attached, and going straight into my calf. I woke up screaming and crying, if I could have moved I would have torn the place up since that is what I do when I am in pain, I kick or throw things that are near me. That is why an epidural is pretty important. Otherwise Andy would have forceps flying towards his head in the delivery room. I have to be paralyzed. Andy of course, tried rubbing it, he actually leapt out of bed, I think he thought I was in labor, but just the same, it was bad, and they don't get any better until this child comes out.
And that is my piece. My venting.
Again, you can run Eve, but you can't hide. I am on to you.
Pictures are proven evidence that I am as big as a small house with room for 3, and giving birth to a super size.
at 10:21 AM