Two and a half weeks early, my daughter decided she wanted out this past Saturday morning. Beautiful, healthy and 7lbs, 8oz and 19 inches long.
We named her Stephanie.
I'll write more when I'm less sleep-deprived. But everything I complained about in the last 9 months?
Totally worth it.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
I'm ready.
Last week, I wasn't ready. Everything was so overwhelming. I felt that as long as I still had unfinished projects at work, as long as I wasn't packed for the hospital yet, as long as I wasn't emotionally ready yet - that my body would understand and not put me through it yet.
But everything is done. Granted I do still have those projects to finish, but everything on the homefront is done. The nursery was finished a few weeks ago, all new cribsheets, onesies, bibs, and the like have been washed, and the hospital bags are packed.
And I'm ready. Really ready. I am fully prepared to wake Ken up in the middle of the night and say, "Let's go." I'm fully prepared to make a hospital room a temporary hotel room. And I'm fully prepared to leave as two and come home as three. And everything in between.
And most importantly, I am ready to sleep comfortably again. I'm ready to have my long awaited glass of wine and plate of sushi. I'm ready for my energy to come back, especially now that Spring has begun in New England. I'm ready to stand up, look down, and see my feet again.
And I'm excited about seeing her. Being a mom and learning from her and seeing her personality and sense of humor develop and hearing her laugh. Reading her books and hearing her voice for the first time and what toys and cartoon characters she'll connect with.
I'm probably delusional in thinking that I'll have more time to blog after than I do now. And maybe I won't. But as the days are dwindling, I'm staying offline and enjoying the last moments of hanging out with my husband before life becomes hectic.
Have a wonderful rest of April. Get out and enjoy the weather. Take a walk. Go on a daytrip. Read a book. Buy a vase and some fresh flowers.
Wish me luck.
Last week, I wasn't ready. Everything was so overwhelming. I felt that as long as I still had unfinished projects at work, as long as I wasn't packed for the hospital yet, as long as I wasn't emotionally ready yet - that my body would understand and not put me through it yet.
But everything is done. Granted I do still have those projects to finish, but everything on the homefront is done. The nursery was finished a few weeks ago, all new cribsheets, onesies, bibs, and the like have been washed, and the hospital bags are packed.
And I'm ready. Really ready. I am fully prepared to wake Ken up in the middle of the night and say, "Let's go." I'm fully prepared to make a hospital room a temporary hotel room. And I'm fully prepared to leave as two and come home as three. And everything in between.
And most importantly, I am ready to sleep comfortably again. I'm ready to have my long awaited glass of wine and plate of sushi. I'm ready for my energy to come back, especially now that Spring has begun in New England. I'm ready to stand up, look down, and see my feet again.
And I'm excited about seeing her. Being a mom and learning from her and seeing her personality and sense of humor develop and hearing her laugh. Reading her books and hearing her voice for the first time and what toys and cartoon characters she'll connect with.
I'm probably delusional in thinking that I'll have more time to blog after than I do now. And maybe I won't. But as the days are dwindling, I'm staying offline and enjoying the last moments of hanging out with my husband before life becomes hectic.
Have a wonderful rest of April. Get out and enjoy the weather. Take a walk. Go on a daytrip. Read a book. Buy a vase and some fresh flowers.
Wish me luck.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Countdown to Baby
Four and a half weeks.
That's it.
Last night I had a few false labor contractions, which are completely normal, and it freaked me out. Actually, Ken freaked me out. I thought nothing of them until...
"I'm timing them and so far there have been 2 within 10 minutes. If this keeps up, we're calling the doctor." And he continued to stare at me, watching my every expression. I didn't admit many more after that one. They stopped after about 40 minutes.
In our childbirth class, we were told to call the hospital when contractions come every 5 minutes for an hour. I didn't think anything of them until Ken reminded me of that. It made everything more real and I instantly thought how unprepared I was. I mentally packed my hospital bag and wondered how long it would take me to pack it for real. What would I bring the baby home in? Where are my nightgowns? What snacks can we take? What else are we forgetting?
But I'm not ready yet, and yet I am so ready.
What I'll miss about being pregnant:
Being able to eat foods that I never eat and not feel guilty about it.
Being able to nap midday and not feel guilty about it.
Not having to carry laundry downstairs or take it back upstairs.
Smiles from total strangers.
Feeling little kicks and hiccups coming from my belly.
Having an excuse for my forgetfulness.
Shopping. Whenever Ken complains about the credit card bill, I reply, "It's for baby," and he's okay with that.
What I won't miss:
Walking through clothing stores and seeing all the cute clothes that I'm too fat to fit into.
The lack of energy.
Hormones. I sometimes cry for the dumbest reasons.
Getting up every hour or two throughout the night to either change positions or pee.
That "kicked in the crotch" feeling we have due to explanding ligaments, which makes walking/standing/rolling over in bed painful as hell.
My swollen feet.
Caffeine withdrawal.
That's it.
Last night I had a few false labor contractions, which are completely normal, and it freaked me out. Actually, Ken freaked me out. I thought nothing of them until...
"I'm timing them and so far there have been 2 within 10 minutes. If this keeps up, we're calling the doctor." And he continued to stare at me, watching my every expression. I didn't admit many more after that one. They stopped after about 40 minutes.
In our childbirth class, we were told to call the hospital when contractions come every 5 minutes for an hour. I didn't think anything of them until Ken reminded me of that. It made everything more real and I instantly thought how unprepared I was. I mentally packed my hospital bag and wondered how long it would take me to pack it for real. What would I bring the baby home in? Where are my nightgowns? What snacks can we take? What else are we forgetting?
But I'm not ready yet, and yet I am so ready.
What I'll miss about being pregnant:
Being able to eat foods that I never eat and not feel guilty about it.
Being able to nap midday and not feel guilty about it.
Not having to carry laundry downstairs or take it back upstairs.
Smiles from total strangers.
Feeling little kicks and hiccups coming from my belly.
Having an excuse for my forgetfulness.
Shopping. Whenever Ken complains about the credit card bill, I reply, "It's for baby," and he's okay with that.
What I won't miss:
Walking through clothing stores and seeing all the cute clothes that I'm too fat to fit into.
The lack of energy.
Hormones. I sometimes cry for the dumbest reasons.
Getting up every hour or two throughout the night to either change positions or pee.
That "kicked in the crotch" feeling we have due to explanding ligaments, which makes walking/standing/rolling over in bed painful as hell.
My swollen feet.
Caffeine withdrawal.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
We're one big melting pot. Accept that.
I saw Crash, and loved it.
I work for a company that has stores all over the world, and part of my job is to look into complaints filed against these stores.
Friday afternoon I was asked by someone from the midwest if we had any stores in his area, because the one closest to his location "is run by Pakistani's" and so he refuses to go there.
I hate that. I seriously hate ignorant people. And there was so much I wanted to say to him, but I kept my mouth shut. For one, I wanted to tell him that I was a Pakistani, just to hear the uncomfortable silence on the other end of the phone. But being at work, I can't take the time out of my day to convince a person to be less of a racist and read the news more, because last time I checked, we weren't at war against Pakistan. And further, anyone could be a terrorist. Ten years ago, Timothy McVeigh blew up a Federal Building in Oklahoma, and John Walker Lindh, considered a bright kid from a middle-class family, went to Iraq to join the Taliban. Both are as white as this caller from the midwest, but he ignorantly chooses to ....
okay, I'll stop. But you get my point.
I understand people have their stereotypes. Otherwise, Crash wouldn't have done so well at the box office and wouldn't have deserved all the awards it received. But keep it to yourself. Don't volunteer the information. Especially to someone you don't know. Am I Pakistani? No. But I what if I was?
If you want to complain about a company, by all means make the call. Send an email. Write a letter. But as soon as you bring up ethnicity, you have just lost all credibility.
I work for a company that has stores all over the world, and part of my job is to look into complaints filed against these stores.
Friday afternoon I was asked by someone from the midwest if we had any stores in his area, because the one closest to his location "is run by Pakistani's" and so he refuses to go there.
I hate that. I seriously hate ignorant people. And there was so much I wanted to say to him, but I kept my mouth shut. For one, I wanted to tell him that I was a Pakistani, just to hear the uncomfortable silence on the other end of the phone. But being at work, I can't take the time out of my day to convince a person to be less of a racist and read the news more, because last time I checked, we weren't at war against Pakistan. And further, anyone could be a terrorist. Ten years ago, Timothy McVeigh blew up a Federal Building in Oklahoma, and John Walker Lindh, considered a bright kid from a middle-class family, went to Iraq to join the Taliban. Both are as white as this caller from the midwest, but he ignorantly chooses to ....
okay, I'll stop. But you get my point.
I understand people have their stereotypes. Otherwise, Crash wouldn't have done so well at the box office and wouldn't have deserved all the awards it received. But keep it to yourself. Don't volunteer the information. Especially to someone you don't know. Am I Pakistani? No. But I what if I was?
If you want to complain about a company, by all means make the call. Send an email. Write a letter. But as soon as you bring up ethnicity, you have just lost all credibility.
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