Nesting. It's kind of a sickness.

So this weekend I had my first real surge of "nesting". I said this to Matt who demanded to know how that differs from every other day of my life and I refused to acknowledge that.

Mostly because he's right, and we can't let him think I'm slipping.

But the other day I got to wondering where my boxes of things I kept from Olivia and Jackson's first few days home. I could mentally picture the boxes- hers was pink and his had stripes and a green top. And I know I wouldn't have misplaced them, I'm pretty diligent. So I looked in my closet.

Not there.

Weird.

So I looked through my scrapbook stuff.

Not there.

I went to the basement and may or may not have tore the place up.

Not there.

I won't say panic set in, but it was pretty close. But then. THEN I remembered that when we moved in there was a weird, random box I didn't unpack because it wasn't dire and I put it way in the back of the closet in my office/scrapbook room under the stairs.

And I was right. Conveniently labeled "baby keepsakes". I kind of am a genius.

And when I opened the box, I found two boxes I was originally looking for AND I found my photographer's album from our wedding, a random plate with our wedding date on it and the stand, and a picture from my elementary school baton days, not sure why I even have that as it was on the wall at my mom's house.

But then I figured it was probably something the kids dragged home. Every time they go to my parent's house, they bring random things from there like little hoarders.

The important thing was these boxes. And then I absolutely had to open them up.

I mean, I'm nothing if not thorough.

Olivia's box had a LOT more stuff in it. I had her coming home outfit, which was Classic Winnie the Pooh theme (like her nursery) and it said, "Are you friendly, little bees?" on the top. I had her first rattle, which was a Piglet one. Her first winter hat and mittens, her hospital hat and bracelets (and mine). Her ultrasounds, first footprint, random pictures, a sweater and matching hat Matt's grandma had made her, her first birthday candle, her first pacifier and her first pair of teeny tiny yellow duck socks. Oh, and the Dr. Seuss book I was originally on the hunt for. More on that tomorrow.

Jackson's didn't have as much stuff but then he was a far easier baby and didn't require a pacifier or rattle and the like to keep him happy. He just wanted snuggles and food. Which, coincidentally, is very much like he is now. But his box included his coming home outfit, also a Classic Pooh ensemble because his nursery was the exact same as Olivia's. His hospital hat and bracelets (and mine), pictures, a sweater Matt's grandma made him. The little sign Olivia insisted we buy for his door. And the blue sweater someone from Matt's family's church made him that he wore until he was 3 (I'm not kidding- that was the miracle sweater that stretched!!). The best part is not only did it have his name on it (though I would have preferred it to say "Jackson" and I get pissy when people call him Jack because that is not his name.), it zipped in the back AND  the zipper started at the top of his hood. Basically made it the easiest sweater in the world for a little boy who liked to run. I could zip one handed and run with him.

I so wish I could remember who made this for him because I would love a sweater like that for Penelope. Seriously. He couldn't wear this until he was about 6 months old, and it was a bit big, but it was the best thing I had. I can't ever get rid of it. All of my favorite memories of him at the park for the first time include him in this sweater.

Which brings me to nesting, phase 2. In my tearing up the basement frenzy, I found a box of his old clothes. A few of each size, just a random box. Probably left over from a yard sale or something. But I had started folding it nicely thinking I'd sell it on a garage sale site on Facebook and then couldn't. On Saturday, in my dining room, I had a bit of a breakdown not being able to part with any of it. No, none of it would be Penelope worthy because it's all very boyish, but still.

What if I decide to get CRAZY and go for a fourth baby and it's a boy? What if? I can't rule that out yet. I don't know how I'll feel once Penelope comes. Maybe she'll get here and I'll be like, woah- three really IS company and we are done. But maybe I'll feel like we're still missing someone.

Of course, my absolute luck is that the next pregnancy would be twins, we'd then have 5 and we'd be uneven, not to mention, completely out of freaking room. Seriously. I have NO idea where I would house five children. None. I mean, Matt and I literally might have to move to the basement, which I would absolutely not want at all. Logistically, five kids would be a nightmare for a lot of reasons. So it'd be a real roll of the dice to try for four because nothing in my life works out nice and even like that.

But still.

What if. That's all I keep thinking.

So the box is neatly packed, back into the basement.

Just in case.

25, 26, and 97

I'm not Rain Man, but those numbers do all make sense, I swear!

25 weeks, with Olivia and Twinky

So last week I was 25 weeks pregnant. And the only notable thing about 25 weeks is being exhausted, literally all of the time. I don't know how I did it being pregnant with Olivia and Jackson and working full time from beginning to end, but I did. This time I'm only working 15 hours a week and I can barely function. Most days, the act of getting out of bed is only happening because my bladder is so full and I just really don't want to pee my bed. That and I have to get the kids to school. I swear, if I didn't have to get them to school I don't know that I'd be able to wake up and do anything. Never mind the fact that I'm not even working three solid hours each day. I work a half hour in the morning when I drop them off, come home for about three hours, and then I go back and work 2.5 hours and then bring them home from school. Which is kind of handy because I have that three hours to run errands, work on blog things, do book reviews, clean, etc. 

But let's not kid ourselves, I spend most of that three hours watching Law & Order SVU on Netflix and eating my lunch in the recliner. 

And even still, I am so exhausted I don't even feel safe to drive back to work some days. And when I get home? Forget it. It's a constant war of what time is reasonable to go to bed and still sleep through the night, or at least not end up wide awake at 4 a.m., but then being dead tired at 7 a.m. 

But this week I am 26 weeks pregnant, and there are a few things that are kind of terrifying that snuck up on me: 

• It's officially my LAST week in my second trimester. That means next week? I can say I'm in my last trimester and it's like the home stretch kind of. 
• Which makes me wonder why I never got a second trimester second wind, and I feel cheated. 
• Then I realized that as of today (Thursday), I only have 97 days until my due date. That's double digits, folks. 
• Double digits mean my anxiety over not being ready has kicked in. 
• Which is ridiculous because my nursery is basically completed except for a few things to be hung up. 
• I'm only a few weeks away from my baby shower, and I'm so excited for that. Because I love baby things and I just want all of the things. 
• I also mostly can't wait for organizing all of the new baby things. 
• Heartburn hates me. It's official: Penelope is going to be hairy. I hope she doesn't end up with that rare disorder where the person is covered with so much hair they almost look like an ape. But my fear is real because heartburn is no joke. Literally not one over the counter thing approved and OK for pregnancy has done a thing for me. WATER is giving me heartburn. Literally everything gives me heartburn. I had really awful heartburn with Olivia and she had a full head of dark hair that never really fell out. Not much heartburn with Jackson and he only had a little fuzz that didn't make it past day 3. But this time? Woah. It's to the point where I've almost thrown up because of it. I've definitely never had that issue before. The only positive here is that I never get heartburn, unless I'm pregnant. So the end is near.
• I'm still tired in week 26. Like even more. I told Matt honest to god, I don't know if I will even be awake for the birth, I'm that tired. 
• OH! Braxton Hicks. I have also NEVER had them before with either Olivia or Jackson. My stomach never got tight, or uncomfortable, etc. I actually thought maybe that Braxton Hicks wasn't a real thing but a really easy thing pregnant people could use as an excuse to take it easy. 
• Turns out? It's totally a thing. My stomach is hard for almost the entire day. I'd say the time that it is not rock hard is maybe a full hour if you added up all the short spans of non-hardness. It's literally hard as a rock all of the time. It's really not a pleasant feeling, but I figure if this is the worst I'll have, not the end of the world. It's like squeezing your abs while exercising, except never letting the squeeze go. That on it's own is kind of exhausting. 

So that's the update, straight from the uterus. I didn't take a week 26 picture because not a lot of growth, belly wise, has happened. It looks basically the same. So don't feel like I'm not providing accurate belly pictures. You're as up to date as you can be. 

The Grown Up's

Some days I don't feel like a grown up at all but then having two kids remind me they need lunch money like, three days ago, snaps you right back to reality and you realize that you absolutely are a grown up and you have no idea how you actually got here.

The Grown Up's - Robin Antalek

From the author of The Summer We Fell Apart, an evocative and emotionally resonant coming-of-age novel involving three friends that explores what it means to be happy, what it means to grow up, and how difficult it is to do both together

The summer he’s fifteen, Sam enjoys, for a few secret months, the unexpected attention of Suzie Epstein. For reasons Sam doesn’t entirely understand, he and Suzie keep their budding relationship hidden from their close knit group of friends. But as the summer ends, Sam’s world unexpectedly shatters twice: Suzie’s parents are moving to a new city to save their marriage, and his own mother has suddenly left the house, leaving Sam’s father alone to raise two sons.

Watching as her parents’ marital troubles escalate, Suzie takes on the responsibility of raising her two younger brothers and plans an early escape to college and independence. Though she thinks of Sam, she deeply misses her closest friend Bella, but makes no attempt to reconnect, embarrassed by the destructive wake of her parents as they left the only place Suzie called home. Years later, a chance meeting with Sam’s older brother will reunite her with both Sam and Bella - and force her to confront her past and her friends.

After losing Suzie, Bella finds her first real love in Sam. But Sam’s inability to commit to her or even his own future eventually drives them apart. In contrast, Bella’s old friend Suzie—and Sam’s older brother, Michael—seem to have worked it all out, leaving Bella to wonder where she went wrong.

Spanning over a decade, told in alternating voices, The Grown Ups explores the indelible bonds between friends and family and the challenges that threaten to divide them. 

I loved this book. I really did. Normally there's at least something I didn't like about one of the characters or how it was written when a book spans across so much time and gives you the point of view of several characters. The really great thing is that even though you may not have dedicated points of view of a lot of the characters, Robin Antalek writes so incredibly well that you know these characters. You get it. You get what they feel, why they are doing the things they are doing, and it's like you actually know these people and you've grown up right with them.

The story is mainly about Sam, who after falling into a boyhood lust with Suzie, kind of finds himself adrift in life. Suzie moved away when they were still in high school bu can read more abut not without revealing something kind of catastrophic to a teenage boy. Not only that, Sam's mother abruptly leaves him, his brother, and his father behind and so while reeling from Suzie's departure, he's now dealing with his mother's unexplained escape. Sam's older brother goes to college and Sam... well he kind of makes it. He finds himself in a relationship with Bella, one of Suzie's best friends, and though it's a comfortable, predictable, and non-demanding relationship, it's also not as exciting as what he had with Suzie. Though he'll never know for sure if what he felt for Suzie was reciprocated, he's not sure what to do with any of it. And then when Bella's mom dies, Suzie unexpectedly returns for the funeral.

Easily, one of the best lines out of the book was this:

"They were here now, all of them. Relationships slightly rearranged, but still together. That was more than any of them would have imagined years before. They had watched their parents stumble and vowed never to do the same, only to fail one another in different ways. They experienced love, but they also caused disappointment and sorrow. They felt fear, and they knew loss. They ran away, only to return."

I mean, can't we all relate to that in some way? The great thing about this book is that every single character goes through something that we have all been in. Marriage, divorce, death, financial problems, college woes, feeling unsuccessful and unsure in life, Feeling like a disappointment and confused when your parents don't regard you as such. Watching parents age, and then sometimes die and questioning if you had been good enough of a kid all along, if you should be doing more, but also being afraid to do more because it makes their impending loss from life seem more real. 

I'll be honest, it was a bit of a slow go at first. I thought immediately I was going to hate some of the characters, but then I got hooked. I think it was right after Bella's mom died because I could empathize with how she felt as her mother was dying and then how she felt immediately after. And then, I just fell in love. If you are someone who has life long friends, maybe they come and go in  your life, but you know that no matter what, they'll always be back- this is definitely a book for you. 

You can read more about Robin on her website or on her Facebook page. This review is part of a blog tour and you can see what other bloggers are saying on the TLC Book Tours page. But if you want to skip all that, and just buy the book, you can do that at Amazon, IndieBound, and Barnes & Noble. 

January 18.

I wasn't sure how I would write about it, I wasn't sure if I should, but then I thought it would be weird if I didn't acknowledge it, because it was a tough day.

So way back in June, I suffered a miscarriage. I chronicled what it was like to lose it in the days after. It would feel strange to not say anything about what it's like for the due date to come and go and you realize at that very moment, you could have been holding a newborn.

But you aren't.

And it's tough. It's really tough because I've gotten kind of a mix of responses to my posts.

1. You get the people who are absolutely, 100% sympathetic and kind and wonderful. They are there when it's tough and they don't try to minimize what it means for you to be going through it.

2. There are the "Oh, yeah- I've had those too. You'll be fine." group. I don't think they realize how awful that sounds, and they are probably trying to be really supportive and let you know that hey- shit happens, and you'll actually be fine.

3. Then there are the people who say nothing. Or they think I shouldn't share it, that it's something that should be handled in private. I don't really understand the reasoning on this point of view, and I wonder if it's only because it makes them uncomfortable, for whatever reason.

But here's what I learned: that it's important to share good things, and it's important to share bad things. There's always that fine line on social media where you hear about every terrible detail about a person and you realize you know more about the marriage of some loser you went to high school with than you do your best friend because it's just out there all of the time. Then there is the other end where people are practically pooping rainbows and they have the BEST kids and the BEST husband and the BEST everything and go on the BEST trips, several times a year, and Jesus did it all for them because isn't he just the BEST?!

I'm here to call bullshit on the rainbow poopers because I happen to know Jesus doesn't pay your bills, you're probably in debt to your eyeballs, your husband has days where he's a jerk too, and your kid is probably going to be a mean girl in high school.

So after mulling all of that in my head, I decided to share with you what it was like to see my due date come and go. Because it's all part of the process.

It was hard.

It was really hard when I realized that this was it. I knew it was coming and somehow I kind of spaced it out the couple of days before. I wasn't feeling very well and my level of exhaustion was high and I was already feeling low on life. I woke up that morning, feeling sick as hell, having contractions, and I hadn't had my blood pressure medicine in three days because I didn't have money for it, but it was my niece's baptism, so I was trying to rally.

I managed to rally and get the kids and myself to the baptism and while sitting there, I realized that it was January 18. And I started to tear up. I could feel Penelope moving, and I had Olivia and Jackson on either side of me. I left as soon as I could, and thankfully when I got home, Matt was just getting home. He got the kids some lunch and I went upstairs to lay down.

And I just cried.

It's weird how all of these months later and it feels all the same. It feels like I just lost that baby. The only solace I've had is that I've got my little Penelope just baking away, seemingly perfect in every way. I have nothing to be sad about. But it was hard. I think the worst thing was that Matt didn't even say a word. It didn't even occur to him that the day held any significance. I tried to talk to him about it but he's kind of an emotional mute when it comes to this kind of thing.

The nice thing is that every day it gets better. I know I won't always feel sad about this. I know someday, I will maybe not even acknowledge the due date. Maybe not the day I lost the baby. Which also makes me feel guilty, I feel like if I don't acknowledge it, it's like I'm saying that baby isn't worth it. Like it didn't mean anything, so easily forgotten.

So I am going to scrapbook the ultrasound photos I do have. I don't want that baby to ever be a thing forgotten. For the rest of my life I'll have to acknowledge that I had a miscarriage on medical forms. But it'll be OK. I'm going to be OK. Pretty soon, my days (and nights) will be so full of Penelope it won't hurt as much. Heck, with her due in May, maybe I'll be too exhausted to acknowledge the one year anniversary of my miscarriage? There's some optimism.

Why am I crazy and talking about hypnobirthing and such?

I got two really good emails from readers that asked if I had two good experiences giving birth, why am I looking to do something that could be considered to be radically different?

And that's actually a really great question.

Anyone who knows me knows I am the furthest thing from a hippie. I enjoy processed foods, I think fresh fruit and vegetables tastes weird, I like pain medication, I think breastfeeding is definitely not for me because I like my sleep and dad should have to do something, and I have given my kids Happy Meals when they were one. Yeah, I gave BOTH of my kids Happy Meals since they were one.

The good news is we're all alive, healthy, and fans of chicken nuggets.

But this time around I watched the documentary The Business of Being Born which is kind of Rikki Lake's baby. Mostly because it was free on Netflix that weekend and I vaguely remember it being kind of taboo at the time and something about seeing Rikki's nipples.

(Side note: you do see Rikki's nipples. They are huge. Good lord.)

Anyways.

So I go into a lot of these hippie things with an open mind but I'm also very practical and I just think there are some people who go the all natural route just so they can lord it over other mom's like they accomplished something far more noble than just birthing relatively pain free. Same with the breastfeeding moms, not all certainly, but there are a few who just inherently think they are better because they do it and are exhausted all of the time. For me, I tried. I tried with Olivia but it became clear that I was going to feel like a dog laying on my side letting a baby have its way with my boob and I would get next to no sleep while Matt sleeps soundly. No, I'd prefer to make him do his duty as well.

Anyways.

So I watched the documentary and surprisingly enough, I really agreed with a lot of the highlights. I'll be honest, I still really feel like I got great care both times I've gone. I have a great OB who answers my questions and I really enjoyed almost all of my nurses and medical staff. I say almost because I totally had a bitchy, awful nurse when I came in for Olivia who was just rude and you could tell I was a pain in her ass at 1 a.m. Like how dare I go into labor. Which, I get it, I also was annoyed because I was tired and I'm not at my best when I'm tired. But overall, I really had positive experiences. Something mentioned in the movie was that no matter what, a woman will never forget her experience while delivering her child(ren), good or bad. And that's so true. I'm 9 and 7 years out and I can remember every detail of both births like it happened yesterday.

But what prompted me to try for something different was the piece about how, while in labor, your body starts delivering oxytocin to your brain and that basically is what signals your mothering instinct, so to speak, but it also gives you this natural high to help get you through the most crucial pushing phase but also this elation at the end.

And I feel a little cheated that I haven't had that.

With Olivia, I got my epidural as soon as I could because I was absolutely certain I was going to die. I had been dilated to 3cm at my last appointment (38 weeks) and I went into labor right at 39 weeks (on Labor Day no less!). So I was pretty excited to know that I didn't have to wait it out, I could get an epidural right away. I also wondered why would anyone willingly go through pain when you can be pain free? I slept through all of my labor, and then I was threatened with Pitocin because the nurse apparently never checked me and assumed that my peaceful sleep meant nothing had happened. Fortunately, Olivia is a champ and this uterus can get things done because she was crowning when they checked me and she was born minutes later. But I had NO idea what I was doing and she was a vacuum assist, and when they handed her to me I just felt... tired. I really just wanted to go back to bed and I wasn't sure why everyone on shows were all teary and emotional. I was just tired and annoyed that it was such a big deal.

I also then had a little more than a year with post-partum depression.

With Jackson, I ended up being induced on my due date with him because he wasn't moving as much as I felt he should (turns out he's just lazy) and they said because this was my second baby, I could just induce. Which was fine by me, I was ready to be done. But being induced is intense and I'll be honest, I would never do that again unless I absolutely had to.Those were hands down, the worst contractions ever. I got an epidural again and it was super. For an hour. Then that somabitch wore off. It wore off.

It wore the fuck off.

I delivered Jackson not longer later with no epidural helping me and I fully understand now when women scream that it burns and I know why there is mention of a "ring of fire" in pregnancy books. Because it honest to god feels like someone has lit your vagina on fire.

But the thing about his birth was that even though I was pretty drugged up, I felt a lot different than I did with Olivia. I was weepy and reluctant to hand him over and I felt like finally- I get, I get these cry babies on these shows because I am a cry baby!

This time my whole premise for going as intervention free as I can is because I really want to feel like I did it. That I told my uterus who is really the boss and feel like I've accomplished something. I want to feel what it's like to be high on love immediately after pushing a little bean of gooey cuteness out.

The only thing I'm really worried about is that the fact I'm already in a hospital will make it easier for me to just scream for an epidural when it gets tough. I really wish I could afford a birth center because I think that would really set me up for success. Sadly, I can't do that and they don't accept payments. I also can't afford to hire a midwife or doula to help me, so I'm stuck with Matt.

So that's my reasoning. It's not that I'm turning into a hippie. Don't worry. I am still going to be that mom who has her husband smuggle in french fries and Pepsi immediately after I give birth, rules be damned. I'm also going to utilize a nursery at night because this chick is already counting down the days of TWO NIGHTS of uninterrupted sleep, meaning I won't hear Matt snoring or have pets sitting on my face, etc. It's like a vacation. I'm so excited just for that. Even if my girl parts are drippy and sore for weeks. I mean, it evens out.

Where Have I Been All My Life

Here's a book I was surprised I was interested in, but then found myself completely intrigued.

Where Have I Been All My Life - Cheryl Rice

Where Have I Been All My Life? is a compelling memoir recounting one woman's journey through grief and a profound feeling of unworthiness to wholeness and healing. It begins with the chillingly sudden death of Rice's mother, which is followed by her foray into the center of mourning. With wisdom, grace, and humor, Rice recounts the grief games she plays in an effort to resurrect her mother; her misguided efforts to get her therapist to run away with her (or at least accept her gifts); and the transformation of her husband from fantasy man to ordinary guy to superhero. In the process, she experiences aching revelations about her family and her past and realizes what she must leave behind, and what she can carry forward with her. Poignant, tender, and sometimes hilarious, Where Have I Been All My Life? is Rice's universally relatable story of how she found sustenance for the difficult but vital journey toward love and wholeness in an unexpected place: herself. 

It's kind of self help, self discovery, but it is absolutely and completely easy to relate to. It starts with Cheryl losing her mother to a really quick bout of cancer. It throws her for a loop, especially when it becomes her mother is basically over it and ready to go to wherever we go when we die. Cheryl has basically had her entire life revolve around her mother so losing her left her in a tailspin- who was she as a motherless person? I think none of us are ever really to lose a parent, much less a mother. No matter the relationship you've had with your mother over life, it's still a bit jolting to one day realize you no longer have her.

So Cheryl decides in order to save her marriage, which kind of starts waffling as Cheryl is working through grief, she starts therapy.  Except she starts falling for her therapist and of course, that's no ideal considering she's married. I really don't want to tell you more because it does kind of ruin the book for you, but know that you reading the chapters, which felt more like short essays, make you feel like you are on this journey with her. It felt wrong to laugh during this book because this is a woman who is clearly trying to find herself and is struggling, but I did. And Cheryl feels like that one friend we all have who always says they need to find themselves and we roll our eyes because who has? What does that even mean? Well reading this kind of brought that to a more concrete understanding of what that is, though I do still feel like it's a bit hokey.

Perhaps the most useful thing I took away from the book is to appreciate what I have, right now. Not worry so much about what I am missing from life, and not give any more time to things that don't matter. Basically, not dwell on the things that have been upsetting or have prevented me from living a good life now.

Cheryl has a website and actually leads seminars and you can get more information on that HERE. Honestly, if you are looking into a book that helps you look into yourself and not be too lofty but as an easy, fun read? This is easily it. It's under 200 pages, I whipped through it in an afternoon because she writes about heavy topics with grace and humor and makes it fun to read about her struggles. Which sounds terrible, but that's the best way to describe it.

Relaxing is hard.

Do you remember I mentioned I wanted to try hypnobirthing this time around? Well I've ordered a book, which hasn't gotten here yet but I expect it to this week. In the meantime, I have a mp3 file of a hypnobirthing relaxation exercise that a friend told me was really helpful for her. So now that Matt has gotten it into my iTunes, I figured I would give it a shot tonight.

And it's really hard.

I decided the best place for me to do this and not fall asleep would be in Penelope's room and sit in the rocking chair with my feet up on the ottoman. I had the lights dim, the door shut, kids in bed, Matt was out walking the dog, and things were quite in the house. So I listened to the introduction, which seemed pretty straight forward. I then went into part one of two, which was getting yourself relaxed. Part two is supposed to get you more relaxed and help you while you are actually birthing.

It was actually a really soothing thing to listen to.I was really enjoying it. And then I realized I can't stop thinking about things. I can hear sounds in the house, pets running down the hall, Olivia's radio down the hall, the sound of cars outside, etc. It's really hard to just concentrate on relaxing. I'm wondering how the hell am I supposed to maintain this calm while I'm in a hospital bed, having contractions, nurses coming in and out and people talking? I will keep trying, maybe this gets easier the more and more that I do it?

In other news, at my appointment last week, I had asked if going to a labor and delivery class was worthwhile considering I have already had two kids. My OB laughed and laughed and said yes, absolutely go because enough has changed in labor and delivery practices in the seven years since I had done this that it certainly wouldn't hurt. SO, I grabbed a calendar and had Matt sit down with me to figure out when we could go. Ideally, we'd do the 9-5:30 Saturday class but since there isn't one in March, the one in April is really late. Late enough that I'd be beyond 37 weeks and could already be in labor. That leaves us with the two night class that goes 6-9:30 each night. Conveniently enough, this is during the kids' spring break, so I am hoping Olivia and Jackson can spend two nights at a Grandma's house so that we aren't having them stay up late waiting for us.

Also not awesome? The class takes place on my birthday and the day after. So... party. I hope the other preggies aren't offending if I'm eating cupcakes during the class. HA!

In other preparation news, I have started watching YouTube videos of births and people's commentary on birth and different techniques they used. And you know what I've learned? They are all horrifying.

If I was a first time mom, this would be the absolute worst thing to do. Thankfully this is my third time around so I do know what I'm in for. So I feel like my job in the next 16 weeks is to seriously work hard at preparing myself. The other thing is I feel like my labor team kind of is lacking. I do know that Matt really sucks in stressful situations and despite being my partner for 13 years, has absolutely NO clue how to read me or determine what I need. I've decided that isn't something you can even teach a person either, they either get it or they don't. So that's where I'm at. I'm basically going to try to get myself ready to birth alone, essentially. Sure, people will be there, but I'm going into this thinking I am basically on my own. Which is kind of daunting? So we'll see how this goes. But I'm hoping that once the book comes, the whole hypnobirthing concept will make more sense to me and I will be able to do this whole relaxation thing.