Digital Epidural, Volume 8

The other night we were hanging out with our good friends, Becky and Evan, and we started talking about concerts -- who we'd seen, who we loved, who we'd like to see in the future -- and we all agreed that Coldplay was on our list of must-see's for the future.

To give you some background information, I think Coldplay is one of the greatest bands out there right now. I love their music -- great melodies (I learned about that term from Stephen although I probably still don't really understand it), great lyrics, and Chris Martin has an incredibly beautiful voice and their new album is absolutely incredible. When I ran my marathon, between about miles 20 and 24, I listened to Fix You about 7 times. I was so tired and so wanted to quit and that song kept me moving and kept me motivated.

So, back to the story, Evan told us he heard Coldplay was coming to Dallas in November. I made Stephen promise me that he would do whatever it takes to get tickets. I was so excited. It wasn't until a couple hours later on our drive home that I realized I'm supposed to have a baby in November. So as Stephen and I were driving home, we had this exchange

Me: "Do you think I'd be able to go to the concert eight months pregnant? I mean, I'm sure it will be at the AA Center so we'll have seats and you can't smoke in there, so it would be fine right?"

Stephen: "Um. . . I don't know."

Me (sulking): "Whatever, I'm asking my doctor. I'm sure it would be fine."

Since I don't go see my doctor for a few more weeks, I decided to do some internet research. Plus, since I think I may have already convinced her I could be a neglectful mother, I didn't want to ask her something that had an obvious answer. So, here are the two things I found out:

(1)
The Coldplay show is 11/19 -- only 8 days before my due date. There is a show in Oklahoma City in July but Stephen and I will be in Spain with my mom at that time. Other than the Oklahoma City show, the only other driving distance shows are Houston which is the day after the Dallas show -- not really very helpful.

(2)
People posting questions online concerning whether or not it's ok to go to a concert are normally about 5 months pregnant. I couldn't find anyone asking if it was ok to go at 39 weeks.

So, either the answer is obviously no or no one has faced the particular dilemma I'm in so it would be ok for me. I think I'll go with the latter.

Digital Epidural, Volume 7

Stephen went out of town for a few days this past week so I, of course, took the opportunity to do one of my favorite activities (and one of his least favorite) -- SHOPPING! Yippee!

As I was browsing the racks, I heard the thunderous cry of a little boy being carried outside by his mom -- "I DON'T WANT TO GO OUTSIIIIDE!!!!"

My first thought upon hearing the cries and seeing his obviously annoyed and frazzled mother was, "What am I doing? Maybe my child will be born without vocal cords!?!?"

After I quickly evaluated the option of never taking a child out in public before his 18th birthday, a story from my past came rushing to my mind.

Now I only know this story via the legend it has become, so the dialogue may not be exact, but you'll certainly get the point.

At some point, either before I was born or when I was just a wee tot, my parents took my older brother to a nice restaurant up in the mountains. Apparently my older brother Jim was misbehaving and generally being a child so my dad had the following dialogue with him:

Dad: "Jim, would you like to go outside and see the buffalo?"

Jim: "Golly gee, boy would I!"

So a wide-eyed and thrilled Jim went excitedly (and willingly) outside with my dad. It was there that he discovered there were, in fact, no buffalo. Instead, there was a friendly little spanking reserved especially for him.

Jim was kind enough to pass on the wisdom he learned that day to my little brother and me. That way if we were ever offered the opportunity to "see the buffalo", we would quickly turn it down.

Seeing that little kid last night made me realize how brilliant this little scheme was. All my dad had to say was buffalo and we sat at attention. My parents didn't create this little scheme so I would have a funny story to tell one day, they did it so they could avoid spanking us in public and attract the inevitable looks of disapproval from people who don't mind their own business.

Parents can be pretty smart.

Digital Epidural, Volume 6

This week has begun my "no more sleeping on my back for the next five months" stage of my pregnancy. To speak frankly . . . it has been an unhappy stage thus far.

Sunday night
I decided that I would be fine if I just fell asleep on my back and then rolled over to my side. As brilliant as this plan may sound, I quickly discovered that sleeping on my back now makes my stomach hurt. Joy of joys!

Monday morning
I gave sleeping on my side a shot. Unfortunately, my shoulder ached so badly I ended up getting up about an hour before my alarm went off because I couldn't take it anymore.

Now you need to understand: a pre-alarm wake up is not something I do . . . EVER. In fact, I typically calculate the number of tasks I can cut out of my morning routine so that I can snooze the alarm just one more time. (To ease any fears you may have: this never includes the omission of showering, deodorant application or the de-stinkifying of my breath via the brushing of teeth.)

Monday day
I researched some body pillows specifically for pregnant women but those things are absolutely massive. Seriously, check it:

Which reminds me . . .
When we moved into our house, Stephen wanted to get a king-sized bed. I, however, told him that we should get a queen because I wanted to be nice and close to him. In spite of his better judgement, he acquiesced. With that in mind, I don't think it's an option for me to now take up more than half the bed with my Amazon-woman height, a pillow that completely encircles me, and -- eventually -- my baby bump.

Monday night
Stephen and I went to Target and purchased a pillow that contours to my neck and, also, a run-of-the-mill body pillow. As we prepared for bed, I settled in with my new fleet of pillows and looked forward to seeing if they would help alleviate my side-sleeping-sorrow.

It started out OK, but then came the encore visit of my old friend: the shoulder ache -- which I don't think any pillow will deter.

So I tried to semi-sleep on my stomach with the body pillow kind of wedged under me. That would be a negative.

I just ended up pushing the body pillow out from under me and laying flat on my stomach . . . then my back . . . same sad result.

So, as a last resort, I turned over and faced Stephen's side of the bed. Before I knew what had happened -- he instinctively snatched up my body pillow in his sleep. It was actually pretty cute and made me laugh in my semi-sleep-state. One second I've got the body pillow between my legs and the next Stephen's got his body wrapped around it. I managed to wrangle it back from him, but by that point, I'd pretty much conceded this round to the sleep-deprivation-gods.

For now, I have resigned myself to the possibility of living on a lot less sleep until the baby joins us in the outside world . . . at which point I'll just go ahead and learn to live without any sleep at all.

Digital Epidural, Volume 5

I've been thinking about my dad a lot lately.

It's been almost six years since he passed away and I still think about him every day. The wounds of his death haven't healed per se, but they've started to scab over. They'll always be there, but they don't hurt quite as much as they did when I first got them.

There's been a few big moments in my life that my dad wasn't there to see -- my law school graduation, my first job, my Saturday soccer games -- but since he was there to walk me down the aisle, there hasn't been a monumental moment in my life he hasn't been there for -- until now.

I always knew my dad would be an amazing grandfather.

Spoling his kids was just one of his many talents. I guess that's why he needed to even that out with discipline -- so we wouldn't grow up totally rotten. But with grand kids -- he wouldn't have had to worry about that at all. That whole disciplining thing would be Stephen's and my dirty job to handle. He could just love them and spoil them without worrying about whether he had saved enough to pay for braces . . . or college . . . or who they were out with at night . . . or whether they were hanging out with the right crowd.

He never got to do that. And that makes me really sad.

This man -- the first man I loved, my hero, my dad, my coach, my teacher, my mom's husband, the man who taught me how I should be loved by the way he loved my mom, and, who was the first man to break my heart on his death -- will never be known by my children. These little people that Stephen and I create will never know his laugh; they'll never hear his voice or feel his touch.

Life just doesn't always turn out according to plan. It's not fair, but I have to roll with that and appreciate what it has given me and what I do have.

So, I'll tell my kids stories about my dad and show them pictures of him . . . and for now . . . that will have to do. But I have faith that one day we'll all be together. And on that day I'll finally get to introduce my kids to my dad and he'll get to be the granddad I always knew he would be.

Digital Epidural, Volume 4

I know that Stephen is the main author of this blog, so most people that visit here know him pretty well. However, since it's fathers day week, I thought I would share with you a little about my Stephen.

Stephen is . . .

The greatest husband I could ever ask for.
I know, it's a bit corny to say. But Stephen listens to me and understands me more than I even understand myself. He gives me everything I need and more. He is perfect for me.

My best friend.
In fact, Stephen is just generally a great friend. He loves his friends and has a genuine desire to always see them happy and successful. I think growing up without siblings made Stephen appreciate his friends even more. He's the only person I know that still keeps in close contact with all of his high school friends (some of whom he's known since he was only a few years out of the womb).

The funniest person I've ever met.
I think if Stephen had wanted to and tried to, he could be doing what Jack Black is doing now. I'm glad he's not though because the whole "acting" like you're kissing other women is not cool with me.

Expressive with his emotions.
Stephen loves to tell people how much they mean to him and how much he loves them. People that don't know Stephen that well or only recently met him sometimes confuse this expressiveness with his sense of humor and think that he's just being sarcastic. But, believe me, he means what he says . . . he really does love you that much.

Honest.
Stephen will always tell you the truth, even if you don't want to hear it. I never have to worry about whether what Stephen is telling me is the whole truth or some version of the truth warped to make him look better.

A great musician.
This one is one that frustrates me, because he doesn't believe he's great. For some reason, somewhere along the line, Stephen got it in his head that he's simply mediocre. I'm grateful for people like his friend James (who Stephen respects immensely as a musician) who also tell him how talented he is. I think it means more when it comes from someone who understands music in a way I never will.

Super smart.
The great thing about his intelligence is he can have a conversation with anyone without making them feel like a dunce. He's articulate and expresses himself well without needing to use five syllable words and reference dead philosophers to get his points across.

A great writer.
I've told Stephen on more than one occasion I think he should write a book. He's so great at conveying a story in a way that makes you feel like you're right there experiencing it with him.

Passionate.
Whether it's me or soccer or music or his friends, Stephen is passionate about the things he loves. He throws himself into them whole-heartedly and never gives up which is why he's so great at so many things.

And finally . . .

Stephen is going to make a great dad.
He has a youthful spirit that's infectious and an energy that children are drawn to and love. When he's around children, it never ceases to amaze me how well he's able to relate to them and understand what makes them happy and what makes them laugh.

And for those who know Stephen well, I'll leave you with a little of his special brand of humor. The other day Stephen asked me, "What if our kids hate me?" I told him that of course they wouldn't and that he would be the coolest dad ever. So, he said, "That's true. What if our kids hate you?"

Digital Epidural, Volume 3

Random thoughts:

1
I'd really like to know who "they" are. I keep hearing that "they" say this or "they" say that about pregnancy/childbirth/parenting but I'm not sure who "they" are. The worst part is I've caught myself talking about "they" and I still don't know who "they" are.

2.
Pregnancy is making me unable to orally communicate. I went to Chick-fil-A the other day to get some food for Stephen and me and after the lady at the drive through told me how much my order cost and to drive to the window, I told her "Thank You. Bye." . . . because I wasn't going to see her for another 10-15 seconds and ordering food from her had made us tight like that. Also, I am unable to correctly answer the question "what's up?" My response is always, "I'm good" which is neither correct English nor an appropriate response to the question.

3.
I have only one and a half more weeks until I have to start sleeping on my side because "they" (actually this one was "they" and my doctor) say that sleeping on your stomach can cut off the blood flow to the uterus. When I told my mom about this, she told me "they" never told her she had to sleep on her side during pregnancy. This makes me very agitated, as I don't know how to sleep on my side. Seriously, I went to the chiropractor once and she asked me to lay on my side for some adjustment and she laughed at me when I did. She told me I didn't actually have to lay perpendicular to table, but I don't know how else to do it.

4.
I have lost my taste for Mexican food. I am afraid that it will never come back. That would make food not worth eating anymore.

Digital Epidural, Volume 2

Last week Stephen and I went for my 12 week check-up with my doctor. This was weird since I was almost 14 weeks, but it had to be put off because my doctor had to perform a surgery the day I was originally supposed to do my 12 week check-up. I could have rescheduled with her PA for the next day but since I'd never actually met my doctor, I thought that would be a good first step in our relationship.

We got to hear the heartbeat for the first time which was really cool. Apparently the baby was moving around a lot because they would find it, then lose it, find it again, then lose it again. Since I haven't gained any weight yet and I can't feel the baby yet, it's good to have these little milestones to assure me that there's still a baby inside me.

After she did the examination (which was rather quick and did not require me to remove any clothing -- always a plus), she asked me if I had any questions. I did have a list of questions and felt kind of embarrassed about the last one:

Me: Well, I'm going to Spain in about a month, and . . . um, I've heard that maybe it might be OK. . . Well some of my friends who've had babies said their doctors said it was OK if, um, maybe you had, um, like, um, maybe a, um, glass of wine, um, you know, um, maybe once a week . . . weak laugh.

Doctor: Well . . . I normally tell my patients to abstain entirely from alcohol since we don't really know how much is too much but. . . I guess if you were to just have a glass very occasionally, it would be OK since you're out of your first trimester.

So, the first time I meet my doctor and now she probably thinks that:

(a) I don't care about my baby;

(b) I'm an alcoholic;

or (c) both of the above.

I'm smooth like that.

Digital Epidural, Volume 1

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about my fears about having a baby, and not really the typical, "Will I be a good mom?" type of fears. This post is hard because I don't have answers for any of these fears. I know that people with kids out there are will read these and think, "you'll be fine" and that's great that you think that, but I don't know that yet. I haven't gone through this before and no matter how much someone tells me "it's going to be fine" I'm still scared. So, here are some things that have been in the forefront of my mind lately (from the more serious to the more silly).

(1) The changes having a baby will cause to my relationship with Stephen.

Stephen and I have been a couple for 11 and a half years and married for 6. I can't think of anyone I know better or who knows me better. I have had more fun with him during these years than I could have ever imagined. He's my best friend and the person I treasure most in most in my life. We've been able to do so many things during our years of marriage and have had so much freedom that the thought of having a baby is pretty daunting. I know my relationship with Stephen has to change. I can't focus all my attention on him anymore, but I don't want it to. I'm scared of how it will change and how our life together will change.

(2) Being a working mom.

I want to work. I don't think God made me to be a full-time stay at home mom. In a perfect world, I'd rather work part-time than full-time, but this is not a perfect world so after my maternity leave, I will be back at my desk 5 days a week. This fear kind of ties in with the one above. I'm not really scared about feeling like I don't get to see my child enough. My hours are flexible enough that I should be able to be home early enough each evening to spend a few hours with him or her before he or she goes to bed and I never work on weekends so those will always be free for the baby. Plus, never having had a baby, I don't really know what it's like to miss a baby. But having had plenty to time with Stephen and my family and friends, my concern is how do I fit in time with the baby and time with them? My life is pretty full already, throwing in a newborn that is completely dependent on Stephen and I for its care is pretty daunting.

(3) Losing my soccer skills.

After all that heavy stuff, let's get to the more silly fears. I love playing soccer, and I think I've gotten to be a pretty good player. I'm scared that when I got back to play after having not played for 8 months that I'll forget how to do it. That would make me really sad. My face would be like this :-(

(4) Not being able to sleep in on weekends.

I am a sleeper (and so is Stephen). I don't understand people our age that don't have small children and get up before 10 on weekends. As far as I'm concerned, God didn't make Saturday mornings for being awake. He made them for sleepy time. I'm not sure how a baby wanting to get up and eat at 6 on a Saturday is going to work for us. Do you think God will send us a baby that understands weekend mornings are for sleeping?

(5) My clothes.

I love my clothes. Most people that know me know that. I'm a big fan of shopping and especially of buying. I love shoes and handbags and accessories, but I love clothes the most. I mourn for my clothes when I have to throw them away and I probably keep them longer than I should, always thinking that I'll want to wear that item again one day. And, as an antithesis to this love, I hate dirty, sticky things. And what are babies and children, if they are not dirty and sticky. I know I'm not supposed to "love" my clothes and so God will try to change my heart by having my baby spit up on my favorite dress or stick a lollipop to my favorite pair of pants. I'm considering investing in Teflon and coating all of my clothes with it.