In defense of my birth plan.

I'm having a scheduled C-section. There. I wrote it. I'm working on actually saying it with as much gusto in the face of people asking me what the plan is. For some reason, I feel a little sheepish when I tell people that I'm having a second C-section instead of a VBAC. Maybe it's because most people ask me whether I'm attempting a VBAC and then I'm automatically on the defensive. The fact is, unlike a lot of women these days, I trust my doctor. No, I haven't scoured the internet for all the reasons why doctors are "pushing" C-sections and I haven't done hours of reading up on statistics or watched documentaries on birthing as a business. But I've had the same OB/GYN for 5 years who is familiar with my medical history and I trust that he knows better than I do when it comes to childbirth. Many women claim that they know their bodies better than any doctor could, and I believe that is true for them and they are welcome to make their decisions accordingly, but only having been through the birthing process once and having been pregnant only twice, not to mention having had trouble conceiving both of my children, I am more comfortable referring to the medical authorities on issues like childbirth.

Granted, my doctor isn't one who performs VBACs. Not many in Las Vegas are - I've heard as few as 3 actually perform them. I suppose I could seek out a new doctor, but I've been seeing mine for 5 years now and have developed a relationship and I feel confident in his decision-making ability. I have heard wondering things about one particular doctor here in Vegas who performs the majority of the VBACs here, mostly because he sleeps at the hospital "just in case" he's needed on a VBAC. I know he's married with children and it breaks my heart to think about how much time he's having to spend away from them - Brandon's dad is an OB/GYN so I know he has an idea of how much he's away from his own family.

Like I said, I haven't done hoards of research (or much at all) but there must be a reason that only 3 doctors at select hospitals actually perform the procedure. My doctor told me that Nevada requires a doctor to be "immediately available" for a VBAC, but doesn't give any more specific parameters on what exactly "immediate" means. It could mean 1/2 an hour and if something goes wrong with a VBAC, it goes wrong in a matter of minutes. I would rather have a calm and collected team prepared to perform a C-section at a certain time than labour (again) and panic when something goes wrong and have 10 minutes' notice that I'm going to have major surgery. 

Home births and midwives seem to be all the rage these days, but it's not a trend I'm interested in entertaining in the least. Especially since Teagan required an emergency C-section, I shudder to think what might have happened if we hadn't been at the hospital. I am glad that Brandon and I are on the same page when it comes to birthing plans and I'm not fighting him to be at home and he's not pushing me to do anything I'm not comfortable with. I think it must be difficult as a father to have such a minimal role in the whole pregnancy thing. They can be supportive and loving, but they never really know what it feels like and can only hope and trust us to do what's right and best for their baby when it comes to taking care of them and ourselves. Even when I'm too exhausted to make it to my bed and awake all night with heartburn, I don't envy them having to stay on the sidelines and observe with little to no control. My husband trusts me to make the right decisions when it comes to both myself and our baby and I think it's important to remember the baby in all of it. Sure, a VBAC would be wonderful so I can actually experience the process that my body was intended to endure, but is my baby's safety worth my pride? Last I checked, there were no medals given for home births or VBACs or natural births without epidurals and I shouldn't be any less proud of myself when I wind up in birthing conversations with other mums. For me, bringing a baby into the world safe, healthy and loved is all that really matters in the end.

I'd like to submit a name for the Naughty List.

Remember that destructive phase Teagan's been in? The stakes got higher. I've been looking for my glasses for a week now and have been relying on my 7 year old pair that requires me to squint oh-so-slightly. And apparently I will be doing that for a while. 

When Teagan was struggling with bedtime, she busied herself in her room painting her dolls, ripping library books and unbeknownst to me, pulverizing my glasses. 

 

Not sure what caused him to notice - perhaps a gleam of light reflecting off the lenses, now completely separate entities - but I'm so glad for whatever it was that made him crouch to take a closer look at the garbage in Teagan's room. I'm going to try to find the silver lining here and point out that she disposed of the garbage in the appropriate receptacle. Of course, there wouldn't have been any garbage if it weren't for her, but I'm trying not to think about that. There's also the fact that she clearly isn't an evil genius, since she didn't think enough to dispose of the evidence elsewhere and frame her brother. That will come, I suppose.

I explained to her why it was wrong and that I couldn't see anymore and she may have even felt a twinge of regret. I woke the next morning to find my 6+ year old back-up glasses tenderly placed next to my bed. The thoughtful way she placed them on the bedside table for me almost made up for the fact that she demolished my good glasses and took my spot in my bed last night. Except that it doesn't. At all.

An Idaho Vandal

Teagan's in a destructive phase. It makes me regret laughing so hard at Brandon's cousin who had a little boy with a taste for revenge. His sister did something that he didn't like, and in retaliation, he sat quietly in the corner, snapping each crayon individually. Funny, right? Funny until your daughter peels the paper off a board book...that belongs to the library!

Two years. That's how long we checked out books at the library in Las Vegas without an incident. Imagine my surprise when I stumbled upon the sad remains of a book we'd borrowed against my will. The irony of her destroying the "Tips for Parents and Caregivers" page is not lost on me, but I don't find it funny quite yet. It was an inane book about handwashing and germs that didn't even rhyme or tells us anything we didn't know. It was meant for children much younger than her, but she insisted we check it out. I try not to say "No" at the library much, since I have to say it so much at the store. And in the car. And at the park. And in the house. 

'Here's an opportunity for a lesson in doing the right thing' thought I, and sat the vandal down. We had a discussion about respect and consequences and I explained that we would be going to the library to apologize and see what we needed to do to make it right. 

I called the library to ask how they handled things like this, to make sure that I could prepare her for what was going to happen and learn a valuable lesson in respecting things - particularly things that don't belong to us. They told me they wouldn't yell at her but would assess the damage and see what we needed to do - monetary, mending, what have you. So I explained that to Teagan and off we marched to the library, only to find out that the person responsible for assessing damage was out of town and would just charge my account once she'd looked at the books. So while I had Teagan apologize, the lesson didn't really compute because we couldn't do anything right then to fix the problem.

So, they charge my library account $8 to replace the other book that had one tear in one page. I don't understand the logic, but I hope that replacing an $8 library book now might deter her from destroying much more valuable property later. At least that's what I'm praying for tonight.

Happy Birthday, Face!

To know Mason is to love him. To be related to him is the only way you'd sit through more than 15 minutes of highlights from his first year of life. Don't feel obligated to watch, I just needed everyone to know that, against the odds, I actually made one for my second child. And it's longer than his sister's so he can't complain.

Of note is the fact that YouTube chose the photo of Mason and my Grandad who passed away in June as the thumbnail. And it's absolutely perfect.

Happy birthday, Mason! I hope next year is as cute and fun (but maybe quieter) than this one was.

The Big One.

If there's one thing I've learned as a parent (let's face it, I haven't learned much) it's that parenting cliches are cliches for a reason. This year has flown by. I still think of him as my baby (perhaps because he isn't walking and still has only two teeth) but the reality is that he will be going to nursery in 6 months. Yikes!

If I've learned two things, it's that people put entirely too much effort into children's birthday parties. Particularly one year olds. We tried to keep things simple, as we knew he'd be more excited about the packaging than the presents and gave him some essentials - like a booster chair that forces him to stay in one place for more than a few seconds (he may not be the one most grateful for that one) and a snowsuit (thanks, Grandma & Grandpa!) and threw in some fun things like a football (clearly he's obsessed), Weebles (I wanted them) and TMNT pajames (one guess who voted for those.) He enjoyed the leftover Halloween candy (as one is wont to do when one's birthday falls the following day), allowing him his first taste of peanut butter. And peanuts of the styrofoam variety as well. We're nothing if not thorough. No allergies there.

We tested the new booster (he's like Houdini in a high chair) and his manliness at the same time. Boy loves a chicken leg. Probably happier than if it had been an ice cream cone. He's his father's son.

The Golden Birthday is something I was introduced to in college, and as someone born on the 23rd of November, I could appreciate the extra fun. When your birthday is November 1st (yes, 3 of our 4 birthdays fall within a month of each other) you don't enjoy it quite so much. But I thought the family might get a kick out of Mason's Golden Birthday and grabbed some Reese's and Rolos. I was right. We had them over again (so many birthdays!) for cake and ice cream and they were sweet to make such a fuss of the birthday man. No - the birthday baby. I need this.

Grandma Richards made the perfect cake for the little man and he loved it.

Like I said, he loved it. Nothing cuter than a half naked, roly poly baby double fisting chocolate cake. Love him.

My dearest, darlingest Mace Face,

I cannot believe you've been in our lives for a year. It has both sailed and crawled - though crawling isn't really an accurate visual in your case because you bear crawl faster than I can run. Seriously, you beat me to the toilet nearly every time. You love playing in the toilet and don't take kindly to those who pull you out. Trust me, you'll look back and thank me. You love to be outside, and it's teaching me to appreciate the outdoors more. It's just a shame that we are looking at a very long winter for a very outdoorsy little man. You know you're adorable and use it to your advantage, climbing people's legs, flashing your dimple and beautiful blue eyes - and in the rare instant that doesn't work immediately, you scream at them. Persistence is what I like to call it. While you've done my head in a little this past year, your snuggles more than make up for it. You can be very cuddly if you want to, and it's been known to brighten people's day. You are a smart little man, and while I've been trying to teach you to sign, you will just say the word at me, making me feel foolish. You've got "all done" down pat and because you don't like to take the time to eat, tell us you're "all done" (both with sign language and out loud) before we've even buckled you in. If you have to eat, meat is your favourite thing and you've spit more veggies out at me in your short lifetime than any young man should. You're finally sleeping through the night and in that weird one nap isn't enough but two naps is too much phase that makes me want to weep - could you decide on one long one, please? We'll both be happier - I promise. I know a lot of mothers think their baby is the cutest one on the planet, but I have a lot of people backing me up when I tell you that you are. Which helps with the kicking and screaming and demanding attention at all times. We couldn't imagine our lives without you and are so grateful to have you on the team. I can't tell you how many times I have squeezed your chunky legs and squished your enormous cheeks so far, but I can tell you that it will never be enough and I'm worried that I'm going to become the mother that thinks no one is good enough for her son. I promise to try. Love you, Little Man!

Love,
Mummy

12 (Gah!) Months of Mason

 

To coin a familiar phrase: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." But we made it. Mason is one and I can't believe it! The year flew and the year dragged. Our emotions ebbed and flowed. And here we are, with an adorable little man we love to call Face, Mace Face, Faceman - for obvious and not so obvious reasons. Face rhymes with Mace, so that one was easy. Clearly, he's a looker, so he's the Faceman of our A-Team and it sounds like a weird take on Mason. Perhaps for these reasons, he is partial to faces. He can often be found pulling at beards, inserting his fingers into noses, poking eyes with gusto and slapping faces left and right. Lay down near him and he will facepalm you with every ounce of strength he possess in his tiny, adorable being. And it's hard to stay made at a Face like that.

He, quite literally, is the most handsome boy I have ever laid eyes on. People left and right tell me he should be the new Gerber baby and that he is the most beautiful baby they've ever seen. I quite agree, but never know what to say apart from "thanks!" Anything more than that sounds a little conceited, especially considering it's the genes I was born with. Here's a random update on the world's cutest one year old.

• He has started blowing kisses, complete with "Muah" sound, so an adorable boy has become irresistible.
• He says HI (at appropriate times), Buh-bye, Baby Ball...yes, he's all caught up on B sounds. His little voice is so darling when he's not yelling.
• Which brings me to his yelling. Constant. All the time. While he can say a couple of words, more often than not, you will find him at your feet, climbing up your leg and yelling at you to pick him up. If he wants something you're eating, something you're watching, or simply wants to be where you are, he will loudly and forcefully let you know. It would be cute if it weren't so constant.
• He bear crawls 95% of the time and it's still hilarious. He's gotten absurdly fast ("crunning") so beware when you open a door - he will be through it before you know he's there and into the toilet. Yes, the toilet. 
• Despite his demanding nature at home and abroad, he is surprisingly content in the car. We have a basket of toys next to him and a mirror in front of him and he hardly every complains. Unless I get Teagan out first, in which case he panics that he'll be forgotten and freaks out. Some people just don't learn.
• He is super ticklish and I love to grab as much as I can of his thighs (there's more than I can grasp) and squeeze which always makes him giggle.
• Whenever he's upset, a little round of "This is the way the lady rides" on your knee will more often than not solve his problem. And if one round doesn't do it, he will hold your hand, look you in the eye and bounce just to make sure you understand that he's after some more. The Grand Old Duke of York is a close second. 
• He LOVES meat. Such a carnivore. When I spread his food in front of him like a trough for barn animals, he immediately takes inventory and gobbles the meat first. He went from slightly anemic at a 9.3 a few weeks ago to a 12.7 (normal is 10-13) at his most recent doctor's visit and handled the finger pricks like a champ. I credit the former to the fact that he appears to be a carnivore and the latter to his tough guy lineage.
• He still only has two bottom teeth (really half of two bottom teeth) but he makes them work. His smile is still so delightfully gummy I forget that he's almost one. I love it.
• He is obsessed with footballs. He sees his bigger cousins tossing them around and longs to be part of the action. We've tried offering him basketballs, baseballs, whiffle balls, but it has to be a football. We went somewhere with his cousin Mike and he put his football in Mason's stroller. Mason cuddled it like a stuff animal and Mike had a hard time getting it back.
• He has just discovered the TV. It's difficult to get his attention if it's Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Doc McStuffins. He will lean around you if you're in his way and completely zones out - we try to limit it - it's a little disconcerting!
• Along those lines, he is in love with all things 'i'. iPads, iPhones, iPods - you can't use them within 10 feet of him or he will scream the place down. Bless Grandma's heart, she lets him "play" on hers and he just beats on it, knowing it will make things happen, but it makes things disappear, getting him worked up and frustrated. So screen time around here has to be on the sly.
• He doesn't love getting his diaper changed and will kick with both legs in a sort of breakdance style to get loose. But if I sing Taylor Swift's "We Are Never, Ever, Ever Getting Back Together" he laughs and lays still. It's bizarre.
• He uses surfaces to help him stand and then lets go - mostly to clap - and looks around the room for approval and praise. If you're not clapping, you'd better start.
• He got up to standing on his own on his birthday for the first time (that I'd seen.)

He's exhausting in the best way possible. He craves attention and thanks to our recent move to be near 13 cousins, 6 aunts and uncles, and 2 grandparents, he hardly ever comes up short. It's when it's just Teagan, he and I that he gets a lesson in sharing the spotlight. And that's my one year old in a nutshell. A really cute nutshell with platinum hair and dimples.