I Did A Stupid Thing

NSB is kicking off the new year with a 

new guest blogger - Lia Capri.  She's a friend and a baby crazed confidant (on some days).  I'm delighted to share her relatable, witty perspective on deciding the right time to start a family.

Disclaimer: this post contains some graphic descriptions which  may make you question (further question?) your desire to procreate.  

First, a bit of background.  I've been with my husband for nearly 7 years, married for 2.  We are in love and quickly (too quickly) approaching 30.  We both love kids and want to have a family someday (maybe someday soon).  BUT none of our friends have had children and we've found one reason after another to put off trying.  "You can't be pregnant at Brian's wedding", "it would be a sin not to drink on our trip to Vegas", "let's wait to see if that transfer comes through with your job" and so the story goes.

But as the new year approaches (post written on December 30, 2011), I think of the greatest potential milestone I (we) could reach in 2012, a precious addition to our family (I'm speaking of a baby of course, not a pet or car).  And so I realize the excuses are no longer compelling and babymaking season is upon me.  Then, with curiosity and blissful ignorance of what is before me, I did a simple search on You Tube: Childbirth.

Pretty accurate portrayal of my expression watching the youtube videos

Oh the horror!  I will spare you the details of what I witnessed in the first video I watched (yes, this masochist watched more than one!) but I'll just say that there was a lot of blood, scissors, a very large infant head, and way too much butthole.  Fortunately the sound was not on in this video, which may have spared me additional trauma.

Now, excuse me while I reserve bottle service at the club in Vegas!

By Lia Capri

Three Months of Experience

Guest Blogger Alfie Toner is back!  And I'm so grateful that she is.  (Click HERE to read her first guest post)  As a seasoned mother of two, she has lots of parenting experience.  But, what about those first few weeks with her first child?  Even experienced mothers were inexperienced at one time.

Does three months of doing something equal "experienced"?  If you dig a ditch for three months, you can pretty much say you're an experienced ditch digger.  But, how about if you perform surgery or fight crime for three months - would you say you're an experienced surgeon or police officer?  If you play golf for three months are you an experienced golfer?

I recently reminisced with my sister about newborn babies.  Thirty some years ago, her daughter was born three months before my daughter.  I remember watching her with her newborn baby during the last three months of my pregnancy from the vantage point of a childless mom-to-be.  She let me try diapering my niece.  I was completely inept.  It was a disposable diaper, made to the right size and shape with sticky tab closures, but I struggled terribly.  Folding a piece of cloth and opening large safety pins near my helpless, wriggling niece would have been dangerous.  Meanwhile, my sister seemed able to change a diaper blindfolded.  I was in awe of her skill, confidence and ease as a mother.

We remembered nursing our babies together a few months later, when my daughter was a 4-week-old newborn and my niece was a fast growing 4-month-old.  My sister settled herself on a kitchen chair, lowered her top, unsnapped her nursing bra and let the baby lean in to latch.  Within a moment, mother and baby were happily bonding and nursing.  Meanwhile, I set up in a big arm chair and got pillows to prop up my elbows.  I put a cloth diaper in arms reach for clean up and burping, and made sure a clock was in clear view to track the length of time my daughter would spend on each breast.  I prepared a glass of grape juice to replenish my fluids and wondered how I would get to it without spilling if I needed to reach with my left hand.  I thought about the last feeding four hours earlier and remembered that I had started the baby on my left breast, so I should start her on my right breast this time.  I made sure my daughter was swaddled, then propped her up and fidgeted to unbutton my blouse.  A few minutes later, the actual nursing had finally begun.  I kept one eye on the baby and one eye on the clock.

My sister watched me as she sat contentedly bonding with her daughter.  Once I had officially settled, she asked what the heck I was doing?!  I explained that the baby book instructed me to sit in a comfortable place, have everything at hand and allow the baby to feed for a certain number of minutes on each side.  I was watching the clock because I didn't want to miss the moment when I had to switch my daughter to the other side.  My sister smiled and gently mentioned that strict adherence was probably unnecessary.

Laughing at this memory all these years later, I remarked at what a natural mother my sister had been as she comfortably guided me to relax and enjoy the bonding experience.  She told me that it only felt that way because she had a whole three month of nursing experience, she was three months ahead of me in knowing how to care for a baby.  Only three months or, perhaps, a whole three months.  I guess when it comes to some things, three months most definitely qualifies as "experienced".

Nine Month Abs

After a long hiatus, guest blogging is back today - with a BANG.  And an ouch two days later, from soreness.  W. Wilson has a degree in fitness and nutrition, owns and teaches at a gym and boasts a serious six pack.  She's also one of the funniest people I know.  In the world.  I'm so grateful for her contribution to Next Stop - Baby.

As a trainer, it is important for me to know the goals and limitations of my clients.  So when Brook, a 32-year-old recently married client of mine, confided in me that she was pregnant, I knew we had to make some changes to her exercise routine.  Her pre-knocked-up workouts were intense for anyone NOT smuggling a watermelon, let alone full blown prego.  However, against her doctor's orders (who said not to lift anything heavier than 5 lbs), I wasn't completely ready to trade in tire flipping and sledge hammer swinging for Zumba hip circles quite yet.

I did a quick search on www.mayoclinic.com (which has made me a complete hypochondriac by turning every symptom I have ever had into cancer) and found that they recommend 30 minutes of light exercise each day such as walking, biking, swimming, or rowing.  Unconvinced, I continued to www.webmd.com, my usual second opinion.  They believe that as long as you were active before pregnancy, there is no reason you cannot continue with your normal routine within reason.  In fact, they even said exercise could decrease backaches associated with pregnancy and build stamina needed for delivery.  Score!

Keep in mind: one should not let her heart rate go over 140 beats per minute.  The fetal heart rate is tied to your own.  If your heart is racing, so is your little one's.

One should also avoid exercises that my create impact, such as kettlebell swings, and exercises causing instability and risk for falling like gymnastics, skiing and horseback riding.  Of course, like every exercise program, you should consult your doctor before beginning.  Preferably one that does not look like this:



via http://www.bodyshapeshiftersonline.com


I went with Brook to the local Walmart to purchase a heart rate monitor and advised her to visit www.crossfitmom.com where she could find great modifications for exercises done pre-pregnancy.

via Cross Fit Mom
Using a box or a step for pushups leaves plenty of room for your growing belly

via Cross Fit Mom
Ring rows are a great substitute for pullups

Many times the movement does not have to change, just the intensity.  The trainer from www.crossfitmom.com (Andrea) also provides dos and don'ts categorized by trimester.

via Cross Fit Mom
This mom-to-be chooses a lighter weight instead of 9 months on the couch

Brook is nearly 5 months into her pregnancy now and continues to monitor her heart rate, taking breaks in her workout as necessary.  She finds that staying with her exercise program gives her more energy and makes her feel less bloated and "fat."  I would say it is working.

via Cross Fit Carolina Beach

via Cross Fit Carolina Beach

by W.Wilson

Trust Your Gut

It's time for a new guest blogger.  A new and wonderful guest blogger.  Alfie Toner comes from a perspective yet to be expressed on Next Stop - Baby, the perspective of someone who has actually been pregnant and actually had a baby.  She's a great resource for my outsider point of view.  Expect more to come from this experienced mother and fantastic storyteller.

So, since NextStop-Baby is blogging about smells and vomit...and since I have some small experience...I'm reminded of the sweet memory of my first trimester of my first pregnancy - might I add a much desired and anticipated baby.  It was a beautiful day in early November.  Sunny, brisk and clear.  I felt fabulous for the whole month of October since I found out I was pregnant, but suddenly I was nauseous and exhausted.  Side note: among my very strange friends, one of the common party questions to debate is whether you prefer to be nauseous or throw up?  This is very difficult one for me because I hate both.  But if I have to decide, I choose nauseous.  Ugh.

Anyway, on this early day in November I was nauseous and not happy.  The dad-to-be tried to console - ineffectively since he didn't and couldn't feel this part of the "WE are preggers."  Exasperated he urged me to call my mother.  She genuinely tried to cheer me up by reminding me how much joy this baby would bring, and that it would pass soon.

So, I pulled on an oversized sweater, grabbed an apple to munch along the way, and went for a short walk to the local pond.  I spent a few minutes watching happy moms play with adorable toddlers, and then rushed home and made it to the toilet just in time.  I didn't have to choose, I got to be nauseous and throw up.  I climbed into bed, watched some TV and fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up feeling fabulous!  Turns out it wasn't morning sickness at all, it was a stomach bug that came and went in 24 hours...and oh dummy me, I had rallied, and looked on the bright side and eaten an apple and gone for a walk...and it wasn't the pregnancy, it was a virus!!!  Moral of the story: Sometimes the pregnant woman knows best!

Your ever experienced,
Alfie Toner

P.S. I still eat apples, unlike raisinettes - but that's a story for another post.

Motherhood

My favorite southern belle, Ella Mae, is the guest blogger behind this fabulous post.  It is a poignant (and funny!) story about the question of whether one wants to be a mother at all.  I am so excited that Ella Mae has joined the Next Stop - Baby blog family and hope that she will write again for us...soon.  Maybe a little Mint Julep will assist in the encouraging?

I remember it like it was yesterday, sitting at my desk in Mrs. Kramer's 4th grade classroom.  We had to write down our future and then read it out loud.  My paper read, "I will be an actress living in New York City.  I will be married with no children."  The fragile boned boy who sat across from me said, "You're not going to have any kids?  That's weird!"

You see, I've never been cut out for motherhood.  I'm a daydreamer, a relaxer, someone who loves "Me" time.  Like my Father, I've been known to have a short fuse.  I don't like sports.  What if my child wanted to play a lot of sports?  Even worse, what if they were winter sports?  I hate the cold, anything below 60 degrees borders on unbearable.  I don't have an artistic bone in my body, so I would be virtually useless at helping out with elaborate school projects.  Lastly, I'm a terrible driver.  In fact I prefer not to if possible.  I would be that woman that all of the other mothers talk about for not taking a turn in the carpool group and for always being absent at PTA meetings.

The funny thing is I consider myself a mother.  Six years ago my now husband gave me the best birthday present I could imagine.  Charlotte, a small white Chihuahua with huge ears.  She's the most perfect 'baby' possible.  She doesn't get runny noses or talk back or leave toys lying around.  She loves to go for walks and I never have to be on "diaper duty."  However, on a beautiful September night this past fall while I was at the author of this very blog's wedding, my throat started to close, tears formed in my eyes and I felt a dull ache in my stomach as I watched the Mother and Son dance.  I could practically feel the bond and love between the two of them.  All of a sudden, I wanted to flash forward 30 years and be dancing with my son at his wedding.  It was then that I knew deep within my heart, someday, Charlotte is going to be a big sister.

By Ella Mae

Babies - Last on My To Do List?

From time to time, Next Stop – Baby will feature a guest blogger who offers a new and wonderful perspective on a topic relevant to the baby craze. Attorney by Day, Baby Dreamer by Night is the first of such guest bloggers and I am wicked (!) happy that she is. Enjoy her witty and modern take on wanting to be a mom.

For generations, women played a specific role in the world - we made babies (out of our husbands and reproductively) and took care of them.  Then, in 1873, the first woman attended college and, to the surprise of many, graduated.  From then on, women slowly but surely envisioned a life beyond the four corners of their kitchens.  We set goals, and established standards.  We became increasingly educated, and accordingly, demanded more.  When we met one goal, we set another.  

Flash forward two centuries, and here lies a new definition of a woman: highly-educated, well-versed, well-paid, sassy but single, confident but sensitive, globe-trotting professional, who has accomplished it all by the age of 28.  Surely, she could not want more.  She's got it all!  Wrong.  I've caught the bug.  No, not bed bugs (though I am increasingly suspicious as I go to bed alone every night in my over-priced New York City studio apartment).  No, I've caught the baby bug.  Evolutionarily speaking, I should have popped one out years ago.  Unfortunately, I was pre-occupied. 

Birth (check)
Graduate from elementary school (check)
Graduate from middle school (check)
Make the honor roll and graduate from high school (check)
Get into and graduate from great college (check)
Get into and graduate from law school (check)
Get a good job (check) ...

(3-year intermission) ... now what?  Oh.  Baby in a baby carriage.  Sure, why not.  Seems obvious, right?  Except for one problem - I was also too busy to engage in a stable monogamous relationship that would endure the test of time and my selfish behavior.  So here I am, single, screeching my way to 30, and itchin' for a baby.  Some say, I don't really want a baby - I've just run out of goals.  Accomplished too much too early in life, and now I'm bored.  Others say, it is my inherit female nature coming out.  My hormones are telling me, enough is enough - retreat to your purpose in this world.  You weren't meant to be a bread-winner.  You're supposed to be making babies, just like the other mammals in this jungle of life. 

Whatever the instigator, I can't help but envy the moms-to-be, praying that my day will soon come!  Til then, I entertain the thought of freezing my eggs to be on the safe side.  ;-)

By Attorney by Day, Baby Dreamer by Night