Little Luka

So I never really blogged about Olivia’s birth, I started a post but like so many aspects of my life I didn’t really follow it through and finish it. Maybe I will sometime, probably should if I intend to write about Lukas’ birth…seems only fair right? So little boy is a little over a week old now and I could not be more in love with him. I find myself just staring at him or caressing his tiny feet remembering that I could always discern those feet when he was still inside me. The little nudges and pushes of those little baby feet making weird temporary lumps on my pregnant belly.

I am not someone who you would say is very in touch with my body. I get grossed out easily and especially when I was pregnant with Olivia anytime she would move or roll or nudge me with elbows, knees or feet I would kinda just throw my hands up. I didn’t want to touch my belly when she moved…it was weird and it grossed me out to think of her rolling around squishing up all my organs! I would not say it was THAT much different this time…except for the exception that I knew with a certainty that this time it would be over sooner than I thought. Then the option to touch my belly and feel out feet and bum and elbows would be gone, and I didn’t want to miss out on that. So in a way I think I connected to this pregnancy in a way I didn’t have the first time. I knew all along this baby was a boy, I just knew…and I was hoping I was wrong. Even up to the day of him being born I still had not wrapped my head around the fact that I was going to have a son. I mean don’t get me wrong I guess I always wanted to have both a boy and a girl but I just wanted another girl this time so bad!

We waited a while to find out the gender. Mitch’s older brother and his wife had decided to be surprised when their baby was born and Mitch was convinced this would be a fun endeavor. At about 25 weeks I told him to forget it, I had to know for sure...boy…or girl? And even before the ultrasound lady said anything I saw it on the screen…I saw the little boy parts and even though I expected it, I felt stunned. Not happy, not sad…just blank. And I felt guilty about feeling this way but all I could think about was how I was not going to get to name my baby “Penelope“, how Olivia wasn’t going to have a sister, how I wasn’t gonna be able to pull out all of Olivia’s baby clothes to outfit this child in all those cute clothes Olivia outgrew way too fast. I mean 2 sisters named Liv and Penny…how cute is that!!!! SOOOOOO CUTE!!! And to make matters worse Mitch and I could not agree on a boy name to save our lives! He liked the original boy name we had…if Olivia had been a boy and I just didn’t like it anymore. He also liked some kinda weird and off the wall names which everyone in my family who we told the names…mocked them and made fun of them.

Urghhhh and then of course to add insult to injury it was shortly after finding out the gender I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes…which was D-epressing. I honestly was so depressed about that for probably the whole first month and then spent the last 2 months just really annoyed and angry about it. Great, I’m having a boy, Mitch lost his job and I can’t even have ice cream anymore! I mean looking at it now, the diabetes…it wasn’t SOOOO bad…but I mean at the same time it was, lol…if that even makes sense? At first it seems impossible and then you go into a place where it feels manageable and then the last phase is just frustration and annoyance. I was looking forward to the last trimester…Mitch was all recovered for the most part from his heart surgery and I could just focus on being pregnant and excited. Well that didn’t happen obviously and after my last posts you can see that the last weeks of pregnancy were so chaotic for me. Non-stress test after non-stress test, hospital monitoring for blood pressure, blood work, lab work…you name they were afraid I had it. All the tests were always fine…but that didn’t do anything to calm my frazzled stressed out pregnant soul…I just wanted to cry and I did cry a lot in the end. The last doctor’s appointment before he was born landed me once again at the hospital for testing and as I left the office and got into the car I just broke out in heaving sobs…this was like the 6^th time in 4 weeks I had been sent to the hospital and the constant scare of something being found in the tests or labs and having to be induced and inevitably have some really crazy emergency type situation. Where the induction drugs caused my baby to go into distress and then resulted in a c-section or something was terrifying…did I mention I had been watching a lot of documentaries about home birth/natural birth vs. hospital births and I had in my mind the idea that when it comes to a hospital birth I would not have a lot of say in the matter if something did go wrong? This of course did nothing to help my fears. And I had a hospital birth with Olivia and that was a really positive experience so why I had all of a sudden had become afraid of the labor and delivery doctors and nurses…didn’t make a lot of sense.

I think it stemmed from the fact that I had a different doctor this time. Well a different practice is what I would say because there are something like 6 doctors and 3 midwives on staff and I never saw the same doctor twice. Which at first I didn’t care and it didn’t seem to matter but when things started getting worrisome in the end and I felt like I had no relationship with any of the doctors and they certainly didn’t make me feel like they knew anything about me other than what was written in my chart I felt like I should just change my name to “High Blood Pressure Gestational Diabetic”, because that’s who they made me feel like every time I came in. I just didn’t feel like I trusted them and therefore I went into all those tests and hospital monitoring feeling like I wasn’t even sure why I was there and terrified each time that they would tell me that this time I wasn’t going to be leaving the hospital…that they were going to induce me. They ironically had told me at my last dr. visit that I would be induced at 39 weeks…they didn’t ask me or even discuss it with me…THEY TOLD ME. And guess who went into labor the day before my official 39^th week mark? And guess who was born in the morning of the first day of my 39^th week? Guess who didn’t have any problems maintaining my blood sugar or blood pressure during the birth and didn’t have to have any of their stupid pitocin and even had her water break all on it’s own? ME!!!!! The only medical intervention I had was an epidural. While I was curious to see if I could last longer this time than the first without one, the nurse kept telling me that I was progressing quickly and second babies come faster. I was terrified of the option of the epidural being taken away if I waited too long to ask for one…I didn’t need to be a hero by any means and I am in no way shape or form a fan of pain. But let’s start at the beginning…”The rest of the story” as Paul Harvey would say.

So Sunday September 16^th I woke up feeling crampy. I had started to lose my mucus plug (I promise the story won’t get more graphic that the word mucus plug) like 2 days before so I knew we were getting close to baby boy. I got up and went to the bathroom which made the cramps feel worse to have an empty bladder and something in me remembered the last time I was in labor and thinking that it felt like period cramps in the start and how this is exactly the same feeling. Still I was hesitant to make a definite announcement that “I’m in labor”. You see with Olivia I actually went to the hospital the day before she ended up being born thinking I was in active labor only to be sent home feeling like a crazy overly anxious pregnant lady…I did not want to be “that girl” again. Also I knew they wanted to induce me at 39 weeks, although nothing was scheduled yet, and I was afraid if I went in with false labor and they called the doctors they would just keep me and induce me right then…since I was 39 weeks the next day and I was already there. As I said before induction seems really scary to me and I wanted to avoid it, if possible. All day during the contractions Mitch would ask me “is this real, or is this Braxton Hicks” and I would inevitably say “I don’t know, probably false labor…but I don’t know”. The contractions started to get stronger and longer and then closer together. I had spent practically all day on Facebook fishing for opinions as to whether or not I should go into the hospital, whether or not this was “real”. Most people seemed to think it was real labor…I was still not convinced…I had still not even packed a hospital bag or even had any clean clothes to put in the bag since I had not done laundry in like weeks at that point. Too exhausting to haul myself up and down the three stairs into the garage and then have to shimmy my way through all the crap in the garage to get to the washing machine.

I had talked to both my mother and Mitch’s mother throughout the day. My mom, of course as usual, said it was probably false labor (remember you have to have half your brain spilling out of your head for her to admit you might have a problem) and Mitch’s mom seemed a little more certain that this was probably the real deal. I think my mom might have been trying to psych me out…get my ass in gear and get my bag packed…but I don’t know. I think what I was waiting for, subconsciously, was for Olivia to be in bed for the night. I wanted that last night with her. I wanted to know the exact last moment we were just a family of three. I wanted to read to her and sing to her and remember this was the last night she was still my only baby. I also didn’t want to leave her in some sort of panic where she was confused as to what was going on. I wanted to leave her in bed to go to sleep like she would any other night and when she woke up in the morning she would have the surprise of not only Auntie Allison being there but also a baby brother waiting to meet her. I cried during those stories, I couldn’t even get through our usual nightly songs. We always sing three songs…the first 2 alternate between a bunch of songs but the last one is always “Baby Mine”. I sobbed and held her feeling guilty. I was changing her whole life and she didn’t even have any idea and I wasn’t sure how she would react to not being the only baby anymore. As if on cue as soon as she was in bed the contractions started to get rough…I finally admitted that we should call Allison so she could come over and get my Mom here and head to the hospital.

We got into Labor and Delivery triage around 11:30. Mitch and my mom had to go move their cars out of 15 minute parking and left me alone in the room. Thankfully the nurse returned to check me while they were gone…nothing like checking “dilation” to make a girl feel uncomfortable and I didn‘t need to be on display to mother and Mitch. I was expecting her to say “Oh you are barely dilated, maybe you should head home”, but that’s not what she said…”You are about 5 cm…looks like you will be staying with us tonight”. And with that I finally admitted to myself that I was 9 months pregnant, that this baby was coming tonight, that this baby was a boy, that it was almost over. And I hardly even took any pictures of being pregnant….urghhhhh!!!! This was all I could think about as I walked my way down to the delivery room. I always thought I had time…well time was up it seemed and really the only pictures I had pregnant were candids taken in Tahoe and a few wearing some ridiculous vintage maternity shirts that were my maternal grandmother’s. I wanted some “nice pictures”…now I’m wearing that ugly hospital gown and feel rocked with pain every 3 minutes…I’ll be all sweaty and gross…FANTASTIC!

So we made it into the delivery room at probably close to 1 AM. The nurse got an IV going with what I doubled checked probably 20 times wasn’t Pitocin, but fluids. The IV was quite the fiasco and I still have a giant bruise to prove it! The room was pretty huge and Mitch and my mom both sat pretty far away from me…now that I think about it…which was fine because they were both kind of irritating me, lol. They just get into little religious or political discussions and while that annoys me on a normal day…try having contractions and having to listen to it…I think I told them to shut up a few times, lol! The first time with Olivia every time I had a contraction I called out to my mom…like she would be able to stop the pain or something…This time was so much different. I wanted to be left alone for the most part. Mitch and Mom could keep their distance and I could just bear the pain alone…The nurse filtered in and out checking me here and there and kept reminding me that things were progressing and second time babies can come really fast without any real warning.

This got me a bit un-nerved. I remember my sister telling me that with her last baby right at the point where she didn’t think she could stand any more pain and she asked for an epidural they told her it was too late, it was time to push. I did not want to have that happen to me…I wanted a choice in the matter and I was fairly certain I would be getting an epidural…it was just a question of when. Well I think I made it to a 6.5...when I said “I think I’d like an epidural now”. Knowing that the last time I asked for the epidural I actually had to wait because the anthesiaologist was with other mothers…I thought I had more time before he would arrive in my room but he was there in a flash. I didn’t remember how icky the epidural feels. How it almost feels like they are pushing air into your spine, yuck. And this time the epidural took on both sides however it was not as strong as the one I had with Olivia. I still felt A LOT of pressure and also somehow felt like I had to pee and I think I even might have peed, lol. They did not give me a catheter like I had with Olivia and I thought maybe they had forgot? I called the nurse to ask about it and tell her I felt like I had to pee…she said she would empty my bladder but wasn’t going to leave it in, which was fine by me. Right then my water broke and I suddenly realized the feeling of pressure and the feeling like I had to pee was actually my water getting ready to break…every contraction I could feel like something was about to happen down there, something was going to burst…I just figured it was having to pee. They had to break my water with Olivia. Then things moved fast!

I started to feel like the epidural was wearing off a little and they had explained to me that they used a less strong epidural so I could still feel pressure and still know when to push…but they would give me a little more so I could hopefully sleep a little before it was time. I wanted to sleep but I felt too anxious, too ampted up, too nervous that everything was happening already…remember I woke up that morning convinced it was all in my head. The nurse dimmed the lights and told me to rest but to call her if I felt any pressure, like I needed to do a “number 2” kinda pressure. Well I felt pressure all right but not like pooping kinda pressure…just pressure I tried to ignore for about an hour. Finally I decided maybe I should tell the nurse about this “pressure” just in case. A different nurse came in and explained mine was on break for another 3 minutes “do you want me to check you, or can you wait 3 minutes”. I said I was fine, I could wait. Then she asked “so you feel pressure” and I said “yeah every time I have a contraction I can feel like the head pushing“…she looked alarmed…”You can feel the head pushing out, I better check you”. So she did then she said “Oh my the baby’s head is right there. Turn over to your side and don’t push I need to call the doctor right away”. It apparently was “go” time. My nurse came back just then and she got the room ready and the little doctor appeared…not one of my doctors but the doctor on call that night…which was just as well since I didn’t know my doctors or trust them anyway. And this guy seemed very nice and quiet and peaceful and  well, Asian. Little Asian people for some reason have like a calming effect on me…they are so reassuring in a quiet calm way. He told me his name was Dr. Zhang and he would be delivering my baby tonight.

After that it feels kinda like a blur. It happened fast and like I said, the epidural was not as strong as the one I had with Olivia so I could feel more than I did with her. Not so much pain…but an insane amount of pressure compared to Olivia’s birth. I could feel him coming out of me. With Olivia I pushed for about 25 minutes and she was out. But I really had no idea what was going on because I literally felt nothing…I pushed when they told me to push and I pushed like I had to poop like they told me to do and she came out. This time I could feel him there and I needed him out, I needed to relieve that pressure and I was so tired. I pushed for about 10-15 minutes and then had the oddest sensation when his head came out…it felt like a pop, like opening a sealed jar, snap…and there was the head. I didn’t even feel aware of  Mitchell or my mom being there, I just felt so “in the zone” to get him out. It’s funny to think about what I remembered most about my first moments with Olivia compared to what I remember most about Lukas. I think because I couldn’t feel anything with Olivia what stands out in my mind was how warm and wet she felt against my chest, how earthy she smelled, how that was literally the best feeling I had felt in my life. With Lukas it was just like a strange sensation of relief and pressure being relieved and then just LOVE…I don’t recall anything about how wet or warm he felt. The nurse had explained to me earlier that after the babies are born they are placed on the mother’s chest and they stay there for an hour without anyone else interfering or picking the baby up…not even Dad.

They placed him on my chest and started to dry him off and he was crying a little but nothing like a strong hearty cry. He was just kinda whining and whimpering. The nurse started to rub on his back pretty vigorously. “Do you hear how he is just kinda whiney like a cat, we want a big strong cry to clear his lungs, so I’m trying to make him angry”. At first I found this cute…thinking he was just a mellow little guy. Then after several attempts to “make him mad” didn’t produce much of a difference I noticed the nurse walk over to the phone and she was calling someone and I got very nervous. A respiratory nurse came him and tried the same things to produce a big cry with not much of a result but they assured me that he was pink which was a good sign but they just needed him to cry to clear those lungs. Then a respiratory therapist showed up and after it was determined that what they were doing wasn’t working they told me they were going to take him out to the hall and try a few more things. If that didn’t work he would have to go to the NICU and do something having to do with bubbles, I can’t remember exactly what they said to clear out his lungs and get him breathing more regularly since he seemed to be slightly struggling. Mitch and my mom went out into the hall with him and I was left alone with the nurse in my room. I think she could tell I was freaked out cause she asked me if I wanted her to open the door so I could hear him. I said yes…then proceeded to ask her a thousand questions about what exactly was going on and if he was okay. She told me not to worry, he was pink and he was breathing he just needed some extra help to clear his lungs. I guess according to Mitchell they determined they were going to have to take him to the NICU to do whatever the “bubble” thing was and right as they were about the hook him up to some oxygen he let out a huge crying wail and he stopped making the “cat noise” and with that apparently he was fine to come back to me.

And there I was the mother of a baby boy 7 pounds, 14 ounces, 21.1 inches long born September 17, 2012 at 4:35 AM and I was in love with him. He was/is perfect. With Olivia it was all so new and nerve racking and I was afraid of breaking her. Every little noise she made had me nervous, I loved her and was just as in love with her but it was different being a “new” mother. This time it felt so peaceful, I felt I had a better idea of what to do when he cried, I didn’t feel so inclined to ask the nurses for help with everything. He was just mine and I didn’t want to put him down, I didn’t want to take my eyes off of him. And of course he was a boy…a boy was perfect!

Then there was the issue of the name…he still didn’t have a name and was labeled as “Baby Boy Larsen”. Everyone who came in, nurses, student nurses, doctors…they would all ask “Oh what’s his name”…and the answer was always the same, we don’t know yet. Monday night Mitch came in armed with the baby name book and literally went through every name in the book, he left late that night and I just felt even more frustrated, we were never going to agree on anything. He was still pushing for Julian and I was still really pushing for Leo but neither of us wanted to give in to each other on those names.  So how did we arrive at Lukas? Way back in the beginning of my pregnancy Lucas was discussed…but Mitch said he didn’t like the nickname “Luke”, which was most likely what people would call him. Then Mitch saw that “Lukas” with a “k” was the Greek spelling and Mitch is part Greek. He randomly just said “Okay how about Lukas Anthony Benveniste”. I reminded him that he didn’t like “Luke” and he said “well we could call him Luka or Lou or Louie for short“. In my head I could hear Olivia’s little voice saying Lou or Louie which would sound more like Wou or Wouie and I said “really are you serious”. He said “yeah, I think it’s good, I think I like it…Lukas Anthony Benveniste”. At which point I burst into tears…that was his name! All of a sudden it just seemed like his name all along, like we always called him Lukas. So a mere 10 minutes before we were discharged from the hospital “Baby Boy Larsen” had a name…FINALLY!

We went into the hospital Sunday night close to 11:45, he was born at 4:35 AM Monday morning and we left the hospital on Tuesday around noon. It all seemed so fast. I think technically I could have/ was supposed to stay another night but I asked when I could go home and they said I could leave as early as Tuesday. When Olivia was born I never wanted to leave the hospital. It was so nice to just be the three of us in that tiny private room and I knew once we left all of a sudden Olivia would be thrown into ring of the Benveniste family. She would not just be my little baby…we lived with them and everyone I assumed were going to swarm her like ants to a picnic. It wasn’t exactly like that but this time with Lukas I had my own house to go home to…my own little family. I had a baby girl to come home to and this hospital stay was only the second time in her life I had spent the night away from her and I missed her. So we brought our little boy home and as we were driving away from the hospital with my little bundle of boy in the back seat Mitch looked over at me and said “I feel like a grown up…this feels like a real family now”…I couldn’t agree more!

And herein lies the problem....

Let me ask you a hypothetical question. If you are stressed out or worked up or worried and someone tells you "Hey calm down"...does this actually calm you down? Okay let's apply this to my life recently. First let's establish that once again my doctor's appointment yesterday landed me at the hospital for yet another blood pressure monitoring and non-stress test. If you remember about 2 weeks ago I was at the hospital for exactly the same thing. Okay so pretend you are me yesterday going to your doctor's appointment knowing they would be taking your blood pressure, knowing that if it was high they would freak out and probably do something crazy like send me to the hospital again. So there I am driving to the appointment freaking out telling myself to be calm, think about the baby, think about Olivia's face, be calm, have a low blood pressure. As I exit the freeway and the light turns green I start out into the intersection and some old man is barrelling towards me in his Toyota Landcrusier..."Is he going to stop, OMG he is going to hit me, OMG how do I brace myself, he is going to hit me right in the baby"...he, by some grace of God, realizes he is running a red light and stops just in time to not hit me. So I am all shaken up and flustered and get to the doctor's office knowing full well I am going to have a blood pressure reading through the roof. I get into the exam room and the physician assistant person tells me "Oh the doctor is going to do a pelvic exam, so after we take your blood pressure and weigh you go ahead and change into the gown"....this does nothing to help my already frazzled nerves, a pelvic exam? Urghhhhhh really? Gross. She takes my blood pressure and as can be expected 140/102....AWESOME. "I'm really nervous right now" I tell her. She says "oh well that's pretty high, let's check your weight and then we will do another reading". As expected it came down a little, but not much 139/100. The doctor comes in a bit later and asks me "So with your first child did you experience high blood pressure towards the end of your pregnancy".

So I can see where this is going. You see I have what they call "White Coat Hypertension". Which is just a dumb way of saying I don't like doctors and doctors offices, I hate having my blood pressure taken it grosses me out to feel my arm pulsating and I freak out, thus raising my blood pressure. With Olivia the doctors were always trying to find something wrong, put me through tons of blood tests, urine tests, 24 hour collection of my urine tests convinced they would find some other problem besides my nerves for my high blood pressure readings, they never did find anything. They eventually had me taking my blood pressure at home where my readings were always totally normal. For some odd reason my blood pressure up until 2 weeks ago with this doctor were normal, I think it might have something to do with the fact that they take the blood pressure the old fashioned way instead of with one of those machines that makes you feel like a cobra is sucking the life out of your arm. Also since Mitch's surgery he has had to monitor his blood pressure at home and I have been taking mine as well just out of curiosity and again, always normal and actually lower than it has ever been. Maybe I have just become more calm about the whole thing...or so I thought until 2 weeks ago. I mean I used to freak out about my blood being drawn but after all the blood tests I had done with my "high blood pressure" with Olivia's pregnancy it doesn't really faze me anymore.

So after like the fastest pelvic exam in history, which btw was just fine with me, the doctor says "Well it may be nerves but this close to the end of your pregnancy we worry when the blood pressure rises and we don't want to take any chances. You are gonna hate me, but I am sending you to the hospital". GRRRRRRREAT!!!! Urghhhhhhhhh oh and of course he adds "and if the blood pressure stays high...you may be having a baby today". So I head home to get Mitchell and figure out a place to send Olivia for a few hours and we head to the hospital. Where once again I am strapped up to the monitors for a non stress test and they take my blood pressure every 10 minutes for like 2 hours and once again everything is fine. I mean it was kinda nice to be Olivia free for a few hours and get to watch TV since we don't have cable...and I got a pretty good chicken caesar salad out of the deal. But now what? I know myself very well...I know this blood pressure thing is going to stress me out and therefore cause it to be high every time I enter that exam room! And since I am officially 9 months pregnant I will be going to the doctor once a week. Are they gonna send me to the hospital every time? I mean honestly if I am gonna have to go through all this hullabaloo every time...why not just induce me already!!!!

But not until after my baby shower and my mother gets home from visiting Idaho...and not on September 11th....for obvious reasons!

So many things I don't remember

First let me say.....I'm exhausted!!!! Again I realize there are far many more people than me that have been pregnant while already having way more children when I just have the one...but geez seriously, I AM SO FREAKING TIRED!!!! I don't know how it's possible to be pregnant and also have to be a parent to more than one child cause Olivia is wearing me out!!!! Some days, like today, I feel myself silently praying to whoever might be listening "Please grant me the serenity to not murder my three year old today!!!!" Okay not actually murder but you know three is a rough age and she is driving me off the edge of sanity it seems within minutes of her waking up in the morning! She is what you might call a very "spirited" child. She asks thousands of questions, she never stops talking, she is very needy, she is dramatic, sensitive, bossy, she is demanding and impatient and definitely her father's daughter. Don't get me wrong, she is extremely smart, very funny, lovable, and can be very sweet...but she is sooooooo precocious and definitely a handful!!!! Huh sounds just like her father now, lol. But the point being I don't find myself with an abundance of patience these days...wow I wouldn't even go that far...I DON'T FIND MYSELF WITH ANY PATIENCE these days is probably a more accurate description. And I find myself so baffled by so many things with this pregnancy. So many things I don't remember from the first time. And here they are in no specific order;

1. I don't remember feeling so completely exhausted in the last trimester. I mean I'm sure I was...but the level of exhaustion this time around feels cruel and unusual.

2. I don't remember waking up in the last month feeling like I must have drank an entire liquor cabinet. I feel hungover, EVERYDAY!!!! Blah, achey, headachy, nauseated, hot, sweaty...you name it.

3. I don't remember feeling like all my internal organs were falling out of me by the end of the night. Seriously by 7 pm it feels like not only could a baby just drop out of me at any time...by the entire contents of my body!!!

4. I don't remember my belly feeling so itchy!!!! My skin feeling like it was on the brink of tearing apart!

And here is what is the same, the things I do remember

1. The peeing

2. The heartburn

3. The back ache

4. The feeling like a turtle stuck on it's back when trying to get out of bed or off the couch

5. The feeling like you can't breathe, the diminished lung capacity.

Man I don't want to complain but then again it's my blog and so you are probably fairly used to my whining, bitching and moaning by now...But I'm so tired. I just wish I would be put into some sort of medically induced coma until little guy is born. Because even in the times when I could be sleeping I am so uncomfortable I can't sleep anyway! That and I don't know how I will ever be pregnant again because then I will have two little energy sucking vampire children to contend with...not to mention the one in utereo. Dear whoever is in charge of assigning personalities in children....PLEASE LET THIS CHILD BE MORE MELLOW THAN HIS OLDER SISTER!!!!! I mean he doesn't even have to be that much more mellow...just generally less intense than Olivia cause she is crazy, lol!!!!!!!

It's the final countdown!!!!!!!!! Really can you believe that at the most this baby boy will be here in like a month and at the least like 2 weeks.....

2 FREAKING WEEKS!!!!! Okay seriously I don't wanna go to 40 weeks but 37 weeks seems too soon....how about 38 weeks...or 38 and 1/2 weeks?

The Home Stretch

So we are almost done with being pregnant...Hooray!!!!!! I can't say that I enjoy being pregnant...I want to enjoy it, I really want to be one of those people. I really tried this time to enjoy it because I didn't enjoy Olivia's pregnancy at all and still feel guilty about it. But there was so much going on during this pregnancy that it almost didn't even seem real until like May/June. And then mid June is when I found out about the Gestational Diabetes and that definitely put a damper on the whole thing. The first trimester I felt really tired and crappy and no one knew I was pregnant except for my mom and Mitch. Then by the second trimester we were dealing with all the Mitchell's heart surgery stuff and Grandma died. Then the third trimester has been "highlighted" and "defined" by DIABETES. I guess such is life. Things don't just stop and appreciate you because you feel like something special is happening. It would have been a little nice to feel like something was about me for a change. Does that sound like whining, very middle child-esque? Well whatever I don't care, it's my blog lol. NOTHING IS EVER ABOUT ME!!!!!!! Which most of the time I'm okay with, I don't like to be the center of attention...but man, not that this pregnancy was a planned thing but I was really hoping this time it would be different. And I guess it has been different than it was with Olivia...but I don't know if it was different in such a way to classify it as better?

With Olivia it was all about being freaked out that my parents were going to kill me or disown me and daily doses of guilt from any family member who talked to me about how I needed to get married before she was born. Mitch's family was very excited and supportive but at the same time everyone over there had this undertone of "worrying about Mitch". Not overwhelming him, oh the stress he must be under that is causing him to, at times, act less than thrilled and supportive about the whole thing. "Oh poor Mitchell". Even I worried about not stressing Mitchell out, not overwhelming him. He had just graduated from college he was having trouble finding a job, we moved in with his parents when I was 6 months pregnant and he definitely was not expecting to be having a baby at that point in life. However, either was I and it was "happening" to me only at that point. I didn't know what to do with my own stress about it and held it in most of the time. Once and a while I would have some sort of emotional breakdown in front of Mitch to which I would be rather insensitively called "crazy", "psycho"...you know any sort of cliche about female hormones. I would find myself often being the one to apologize by the end of it...you know as to not "stress Mitchell out". I think because of Mitchell's heart problems as a baby/child and then dealing with all the stress of his ADHD growing up, his parents are super protective of him and gets away with a lot of unsavory behavior he wouldn't otherwise. Thus the whole effort to "not stress him out too much", not laying down any sort of hammer to "man up", so to speak.  Looking back at this now I feel really torn between feeling angry that no one really cared or asked how this whole thing was affecting me and also feeling sympathetic to all the stress a guy must feel to automatically be the "breadwinner" and "provider". I also feel annoyed with myself that I felt the need to appear ambivalent and stoic about the whole thing..."don't let anyone see how really freaked out and scared you are, somebody has got to be calm about it". I mean Mitch and I had been together a long time but at the time I got pregnant things were not exactly in the "honeymoon" period...so the idea of just getting married just because I was pregnant was the last thing on his mind and was only really on my mind because of all the pressure I felt from my family.

It was a stressful period of time and in retrospect moving back to Sacramento and in with his family did nothing to help our already shakey relationship. It was nice to not have to worry about rent and food and being able to afford things, it was more than generous for his parents to have provided that for us. But I had a good job and I would have kept working until close to the baby being born and I'm sure Mitch would have found something eventually. We would have had to find another place to live for sure and it would have been really hard but when you move back in with parents...it kinda makes you act and behave like a child again...which didn't help that we were supposed to be "adults" having a baby. It would have been better to have stayed in Santa Barbara and worked it out ourselves because having parents involved, little sisters involved, anyone in earshot involved in any fight or argument or anything and everything really was a NIGHTMARE...and not just for us, I know it was a nightmare for the rest of the people living at the house as well.

Anyways so when I found out I was pregnant this time around I was a little apprehensive to tell everyone....I mean we are still not married but at least we are living under one roof and supporting ourselves and have been for the past 2 1/2 years and we were in a much better place as far as our relationship goes. I mean it wasn't planned to get pregnant especially in light of hearing back in October Mitch would be having some serious medical stuff going on in the coming months...but I think we both wanted to Olivia to have a sibling relatively soon. And not a whole lot was being done to avoid pregnancy. We also both knew we would be married "sometime" in the future. At this point it just feels like a huge pain in the ass that we are not married yet and the how, what, where and when is still pretty exhausting to think about. The pregnancy was still a surprise but not a shock like the first time. I was nervous but happy and excited that maybe this time things would be more normal and I could just be pregnant and happy. And for the most part things have been pretty pleasant...but I would not say the past 8 months have been normal by any means. Most focus from October until April was on the surgery Mitch would be having and doctor appointments and stress tests and blood tests and all kinds of things...then afterwards it was all about recovery and how was he doing/feeling etc etc. He couldn't do a whole lot and so it was up to me to take care of everything around the house and with Olivia which was fine and I was used to for the most part anyway but lugging Olivia around in my second trimester was getting harder and more back breaking since Mitch couldn't lift her.

Once things started to go back to normal with what Mitch could do he got layed off his job before he could even go back to work, then Grandma died and then came the diabetes and then a whirlwind of Benveniste events...Graduation, baby showers, baby being born, someone else announcing pregnancy, a wedding. Things have been GO! GO! GO! Which since becoming a more intimate part of the Benveniste family some 4 years ago...really this seems to be the way things go with them. Probably because there are so many of them...that there is always something happening...rarely a lull in activity, whether it be happy events, sad events, stressful events. Which is fun and exhausting and at times stressful and definitely something that takes getting used to having grown up with only 2 siblings spaced far apart. Other than definitely knowing when Dad was in a "bad mood"...the whole neighborhood probably could hear his "bad moods"... we were pretty much sheltered from any sort of stress my parents may have been dealing with personally, they still keep most of their strains and worries to themselves even though we are all adults. Anyways there has been so much going on that a lot of the time I don't think people even remember I'm pregnant, lol. Which is fine I don't need to feel worshipped or honored or anything, especially since this is my second pregnancy...but it would be nice to at least feel that way by Mitchell once in a while.

I mean I don't want to bag on Mitchell...and I know I tend to...but anyone who knows Mitchell and knows him well knows that he is just sort of oblivious to a lot of things most of the time. I don't feel like it's bagging on him to point it out, especially when anyone I might "bag" on him to knows him and knows exactly what I'm talking about. He has ADHD, he takes no medication for it, can't take any because of his heart and it really does cause him to be rather self-centered, forgetful, and clueless a lot of the time. I'm not making excuses for him and anyone who doesn't believe ADHD is a real thing just needs to spend like a week with Mitchell to know that IT IS VERY VERY REAL. He can control it, it's not like he's some out of control weirdo. But he has to be reminded of a lot of things, asked to do things cause he doesn't just do them unless it's something for himself and I am not exaggerating when I say that at times it really feels like I have 2 kids to deal with...not just Olivia. He had gotten better but I would say most of the time the fact that I'm pregnant, like heavily pregnant slips his mind. He will still try to tickle me or jump out and scare me or see me struggling to clean something or pick up toys and doesn't really offer to help unless I ask...I'm tired of asking!!!!

I guess as I am nearing the end of this pregnancy I feel a mixed emotion of "Thank God it's almost over I'm tired of all this pregnancy crap" as well as "I can't believe it's almost over and I don't feel like I cherished it at all...I didn't take pictures, I didn't take time to feel amazed by what was going on inside me, I don't have much time left I need to appreciate it now".....appreciate the last month of pregnancy....HA that is laughable!!!! It's like the worst month!!!!! Also the world is nicer to pregnant women...I feel like I have not gotten my fair share of adoring looks from grandmothers and doors held open for me. It's like once that baby is out...everyone forgets that YOU WERE THE ONE WHO DID ALL THE WORK TO MAKE THAT BABY AND THEN SQUEEZE IT. All of a sudden it's all about the baby...which I suppose is good, people are less likely to notice your flabby belly and spit up stains all over your clothes and your shirt looking all unkempt from pulling it up to breastfeed.

So I guess in the meantime I am declaring to the world;

APPRECIATE ME, NOTICE ME, ADORE ME WHILE YOU STILL CAN!!!!!!!

LOL

"I'll carry you home, tonight"

So are you familiar with the song by the band FUN called "We are young". I remember hearing it on Glee like a million years ago and thinking it was kinda a strange song...seemed almost like a song you would hear in a play or something, at least covered by Glee. So the other day on the way to a doctors appointment all alone driving in the car the song came on the Radio and I thought, "Oh yeah I really like this song"and began to sing along. About a minute into the song I start tearing up and then crying and then sobbing...full blown sobbing while driving on the freeway. Now being close to nine months pregnant it doesn't take a whole lot to make me cry...whether it be from sentiment, happiness, tiredness, anger, frustration, impatience...tears are really easy to come by in this pregnancy...more so than with Olivia. Then I thought, "why am I crying"...then I thought this isn't the first time I have cried when hearing this song...what is the deal?

Then I thought I hardly ever hear this song on the Radio in Sacramento...but it is on constantly in the Bay Area radio stations. Having been back and forth so much to the Bay Area in the last 5 months I know the radio selections pretty well. I mean it's a good song, I like it...I get excited when I hear it on the radio at home...which isn't all that often because I hardly ever drive myself anywhere alone and Mitch hardly ever plays the Radio in the car. Why am I so familiar with this song? Why does this song make me emotional? Then I remember the times I heard it the most and it was driving back and forth to the hospital in San Francisco when Mitchell was recovering from his surgery. I remembered the first time I drove myself all alone up to the hospital to spend the entire day with Mitchell, just me and him after his surgery was over.This was probably day 2 after the surgery and Sue had said she would take Olivia for the day so I could stay with Mitch the whole day. I was really excited to see him even though he would probably sleep the whole time. Just seeing he was okay even if he was asleep was reassuring. I don't like to be emotional in front of other people...which doesn't mean I didn't get emotional in front of everyone that week. However all alone in the car while that song played on the radio a wave of emotion unlike anything I have probably felt in my life washed over me.

Relief, sadness, worry, exhaustion, love...the sum of all the emotions leading up to the surgery in the months before just poured out of me...in long sobbing heaves. I couldn't believe it was over, I couldn't believe it had happened, I couldn't believe everything turned out so well, I couldn't believe I had experienced something so intense with someone I loved, I couldn't believe it...that's just how it felt, shock. It felt like since the moment "open heart surgery" had been layed out on the table...I had metaphorically been holding my breath and the crying, sobbing tears was like finally catching my breath, finally taking in air for the first time in 7 months. It's so strange to have so much time leading up to the surgery and then having it all be over in a matter of 3-4 hours. In a way it feels like "that's it, it's over, he's still alive. All these months I have been worried and anticipating this huge event and now the doctor is telling me it's all done"...it kinda feels like that can't be it. And in reality it's not and it wasn't because recovery is a process but the main event....the feature presentation so to speak, was done and it just feels too quick and easy to be true. It's like just because the surgery was over it takes a while for you to mentally keep up and realize it's all done. Even now when I think about the surgery and seeing him after the surgery I can't help but get emotional...it still feels too quick to be over with.

(Mitch about 3 days after surgery)

So I guess Fun's "We are young" will forever be my anthem of Mitchell's surgery. I guess it brings out emotions that are easy to forget about with everything that has happened since and everything that is happening now and everything that will be happening in the next 4-5 weeks! We are having a baby!!!! It's crazy right? And even when he is driving me crazy because he is just being "Mitchell"...I can't say I don't love him with all my heart and I am so thankful that his heart is beating!!!!

I love you Mitchell forever and always...even when you leave dishes on the counters, or are being an obnoxious back seat driver, or shoving me in the middle of the night to tell me I'm snoring, or just generally being your crazy self...I can't imagine sharing my life and my children with anyone else!

"Lucky Me"

So I have been avoiding talking about this for a while...for nearly 2 months now I suppose. It's nothing crazy or tragic or too life altering...well I guess it has altered my life a bit...well a lot. It's more of a nuisance and an annoyance and a frustration than anything else. Well anyone who has been pregnant knows the joy of the glucose screening test. And by joy I actually mean pure hell. The test I took with Olivia wasn't nearly as bad cause I only had to do the one hour test and wasn't required to do any fasting beforehand. Not the case this time, I'm sure you can see where this is going. My doctor this time around tests everyone over 30 with a 2 hour fasting test, thankfully it wasn't the three hour test! So basically I couldn't eat for 8 hours beforehand then report to the lab to have my blood drawn....drink the sugary nasty concoction which is twice the amount of the 1 hour test and therefore twice as sugary and disgusting and you have to have it all down in 2 minutes. Then you get to sit around for an hour then they draw your blood again and you get to sit around for another hour until the draw your blood the third time.

Mind you I hate having my blood drawn and was already stressed out from my ultrasound the week before where the tech told me my baby was kinda big and asked had I had my glucose test yet. Now I don't pay much credence to these ultrasound size estimations or technician opinions. According to them Olivia was going to be lucky to be born at barely 5 pounds when she was a completely normal 7 and a half pounds. But all the same I felt worried about some giant baby ripping me apart during birth or worse needing a c-section. Anyways back to the test...I seriously felt like I was going to die the first hour. I started sweating like crazy and for the second time in my life, the first being seeing Mitchell after his heart surgery, felt like I was going to faint. The blood people kept asking me if I wanted to lie down but I just kept taking frequent trips to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face and neck. It was terrible!!! The second hour went better but I still felt pretty crappy and by the time it was over I just wanted to go home and lie down and not get up for the rest of the day...which is basically what I did. Then the doctor called a few days later with the news I did not want to hear. "Your fasting number was normal and your last number was normal but the second number was a bit borderline high, so the doctor is referring you to a diabetes dietitian and counselor". FAIL!!!!! I asked "well does that mean I have gestational diabetes or just that it was kinda high"...She didn't really give me a definitive answer only that "it was better to be safe than sorry" and to just wait to hear from the diabetes people.

A week or so went by and I still had not heard anything and in the meantime felt so stressed out about what I should and should not be eating and whether or not I was doing some sort of irreversible damage to my baby. I mean I am neurotic and I am a worrier and everything to me is the end of the world. I couldn't take it!!!! I was so sad and depressed all week...I didn't really know what to eat so I just didn't eat most of the time which certainly didn't help feeling awful and depressed. Thankfully a girl I knew from church growing up had expressed on Facebook a few months ago that she had it so I emailed her and she was able to give me ideas on what to eat and what to do and that I wasn't going to hurt my baby and basically to calm down, breathe and I would be fine. Which I was extremely grateful to hear from her and she made me feel a lot more supported about the whole thing. Even so I felt ashamed, alone, like a failure, like maybe had I not eaten so much ice cream or drank soda maybe this wouldn't be happening to me. Most of all it just felt like why? WHY NOW? WHY ME? As if the last 6 months had not been trying enough. Mitch's health problems, his surgery, losing his job after his surgery, my grandmother dying, the fact that we were broke, the fact that my pregnancy with Olivia was less than ideal and I just wanted to enjoy being pregnant this time...it just seemed like one more thing to push me over the edge of the already shaky grip I had on any mental well being. Maybe this sounds dramatic and like it wouldn't be a big deal to you...but it was a big deal to me and still depresses me at least once a day, if not most of the day.

Anyways since it had been a week and I had still not heard from the diabetes place I called the doctor and they gave me the number to call. However once I did make contact with them I was told that I would be scheduled for a class where I would learn all about the whole thing and what not but the classes are so full that I couldn't even get in for another 3 weeks. THREE WEEKS!!!!! It had already been like 2 weeks of unguided confusing hell what am I supposed to do in the meantime? The nurse who scheduled my class was like "Oh your numbers aren't bad...just borderline so you know eat healthy and don't go crazy"....oh thanks because I really know what you mean by "don't go crazy" and also do you know who you are talking to? I am already way past crazy about this...I mean I felt completely insane!!

So left to my own devices I barely ate much for the three weeks...trying to follow the carb counts of what I should be eating on some gestational diabetes website I found online and actually ended up losing 5 pounds in those three weeks and seeing how I had only gained about 15 pounds so far at 7 months pregnant it did seem a bit alarming but I had a doctor appointment in there somewhere and they assured me that I was fine and the baby was growing?!!!! I still have been the same weight for like the last 2 months!? My belly is getting bigger so how I am not gaining weight doesn't really make sense to me. I think a lot of people, myself included, think that only overweight people develop gestational diabetes. I mean I was no Kate Moss by any means but I wasn't overweight before becoming pregnant and I didn't gain a bunch of weight while pregnant so again the whole thing baffled me. I am however really not all that active or into exercise...so I don't know. Mitchell had been pretty supportive for the most part, helping me pick out meals with small carb counts and he is on a sodium restricted diet so I guess on some level can sympathize. However he is also Mitchell and there has been a lot of unwanted teasing about the whole thing..."I told you not to eat so much ice cream, maybe it was all that soda you drank when you stopped having coffee, well you know you don't have the best eating habits, blah, blah, blah".

My mom on the other hand...well she never thinks there is ever anything wrong with anyone so any talking with her was pretty frustrating. She would just tell me that I was being dramatic and that she bet when I went to the class they would tell me I was fine. All this did was make me more mad. Yes I know I am probably being a bit crazy and obsessive about the whole thing but they wouldn't be making me go to the dumb class if there was nothing to worry about, if it was nothing. You literally have to be bleeding out of the skull with your brains falling out for my mom to admit that maybe there was a problem, and that's still a big maybe, lol. Which probably explains why I always had perfect attendance in school, there was no getting away with faking anything with her growing up. I mean I don't feel singled out by this cause she is this way with everything and everyone..."Oh it's fine, you're fine, life goes on, stop being so dramatic"...you get the idea.

So last week was the big class. The three and a half hour class. Where they explain what gestational diabetes is, why pregnant women develop it, how it can be controlled with diet, how it goes away after birth of the placenta, how stress can raise your blood sugar, about how it is mostly about hormones blocking the production of insulin in some "lucky women", and last but not least how to check your blood sugar 4 times a day which is required. Ughhhhhh I had to prick myself 3 times before I got enough blood, I was so nervous...I hate blood, the sight of blood and now I have to do this 4 times a day! The class was helpful and the nurse and dietitian were very informative and reassuring that if you follow all the guidelines everything will be fine and the baby will be a normal size and healthy, that there was nothing we did to cause it, it just happens sometimes. I did find the other mothers in the class a bit annoying. All of them were like "ehhh I wasn't shocked when I had it, I feel okay about it, I can manage it and it's not a big deal".They all for the record were also normal weights if not slender. But I wanted to scream "I was shocked, I was pissed, I'm still pissed off about it, it sounds like a huge pain in the ass even though I guess it's what I have to do now. It's been a week and I still flinch everytime I await the spring action "lancet" to pierce my poor sore fingers. This is some pretty intense stuff. I have to record all my numbers once when I wake up after not eating all night and an hour after the first bite every every main meal. Then I have to email my doctor my numbers weekly and I also have 2 more appointments with these diabetes people before the baby is born. So far my numbers have been pretty normal. I have had a few numbers that were a few points higher than what my "goal numbers" are, but nothing outrageous. However when I have had an elevated number it makes me really upset...I cry. I feel like I am doing what they told me to do and feeling miserable in the meantime and still apparently can't get it right. It's very frustrating.

The hardest part of this whole thing is having to plan ahead what I am going to eat and I have to make sure to eat every 2-3 hours and not to mention they want you to eat all your meals and snacks at the same time everyday (yeah right that's happening). I feel like a slave to the clock. Having to remember the exact time of my first bite of food and test my blood exactly one hour later. Having to remember what time I ate and what I ate so I can make sure to eat exactly 2-3 hours later and not sooner than that. It's pretty depressing, I feel hungry all the time, I don't feel like I can enjoy anything I am eating or anything at all for that matter because it is always in the back of my mind. When can I eat, what can I eat, what do I feel like eating, do we even have anything I can eat, I don't feel like eating right now but I have to eat, I have to wake up to eat sometimes because I can't go longer than 8 hours at night without eating...however I have to not eat for 8 hours to get my "fasting" blood sugar first thing in the morning. I feel like I am eating just to survive at this point...that's about it.

I know there is a lot of people who can't have babies and would gladly take my position for the chance to have a baby...and I appreciate that and I am grateful...but I would really like "catch a break" so to speak. I mean I would really have liked to have everything go the way it's supposed to for once in my life. I am usually the type who always has to learn things the hard way and most of those times it's from my own stupidity and actions that cause those trying consequences to come crashing down around me. But I really don't feel like anything I did caused the stress that is my life the past 6 months...it just would have been nice after all the heart surgery stuff, after all the having to take care of everyone during recovery stuff to be able to at least somewhat enjoy the end of my pregnancy...to at least be able to have a bowl of ice cream or a truck load of pasta or an entire pizza.

So it's touch and go. Sometimes I feel okay about the whole thing and other times when I'm hungry or waiting around to test my blood sugar I just feel really lonely and depressed. I still feel pretty embarrassed about the whole thing, still don't like to talk about it, still feel like people are going to judge me and think I'm fat and disgusting about the whole thing. Just feel like I am existing in this pregnancy instead of enjoying it or living it. I guess the thing I think about the most is my baby. Hoping I am doing right by him and feeling really guilty for this happening in the first place. I love you "baby needs a name", please be healthy and a normal size so you don't rip me open!

There are days...AND THERE ARE DAYS!!!!

Sometimes I feel like I am not cut out to be a mother. I am fairly certain this is probably a widespread fleeting notion among many stay at home moms and probably even more so for pregnant stay at home moms. In other words, I know I love my child and I know I am a good mom but these days, urghhhhh I would like to run away. I only have one child and I know many people who have or who have had way more children to contend with while being pregnant, I guess the past week or two I just feel like I am not handling it very well. I feel so impatient, so easily annoyed, so outraged by the blatant defiance that seems to be Olivia's most prominent characteristic these days. As you probably know Mitch has been out of work since mid April. What you probably don't know is that his job so kindly also decided to lay him off 2 days after his open heart surgery so at this point there is no job to return to when he is 100% cleared for work by the doctor. So while we knew we would be living off any savings we had and disability while he was in recovery...we didn't expect for him to be layed off.

Mitch being home 24-7 has been an adjustment for all three of us. Mitch isn't one for sitting around the house so his initial first couple of weeks after surgery were rough because he really couldn't do much. I'd say after a month or so after the surgery he was pretty good about being able to do things for himself around the house and by 6 weeks he was cleared to drive himself around which was a godsend to me because he is literally the most annoying obnoxious critical back seat driver known to man. But it has been hard to feel like the routine between Olivia and I has been totally out of whack. Not that I was ever so disciplined or regimented that the routine was completely strict or constant...I guess just the routine of it being me and her and just having to deal with one another. Doing our little errands or going places I know she likes to go, just the two of us. With Mitch being home she has never been more crazy, more out of control, more defiant, more mean than she has been since she has had to contend with 2 parents at home with her all day, everyday. Mitchell tends to want to control her, he tends to want things to be done a certain way and in a certain manner and so while I have always been kinda relaxed when it came to monitoring Olivia throughout the day. Mitch is literally smotheringly "all over her". He doesn't know when to back off. To leave her alone if she wants to be alone, to stop teasing her when she asks, to just let her run off and be mad when she's mad. She does not do well with this at all, which I know is contributing to her ever increasing bratty behavior. He has always been this way, however she is not used to dealing with it all day long, she was used to him being home in the evening and night and weekends and things felt pretty balanced that way.

I am also not used to him being home all the time. I would never classify myself as a very social person. I mean yes I do enjoy social situations from time to time but I am probably very much a loner in a lot of ways. I need alone time, I like alone time, I rarely feel bad about the fact that I don't have many friends because I have never been someone who needed that. I like having one or two good friends that I can get together with when the mood strikes and that has always been rather sufficient for me. I mean there have been times in my life where I had a lot of friends, where I was constantly going out or surrounded by people, but it's never been something I needed. These days I probably really don't have any friends, lol. I was very close with Mitch's sister Ashley who used to live just down the street but she moved away in February which was really sad for me. I do on occasion get together with his other sister Allison who lives really close but for some reason I don't often make an effort to call, which is my fault because I know she would always be open to hang out. But Mitchell being home and not getting my daily dose of "alone in the house to do whatever I want time when Olivia is napping" is NO MORE. I feel like I am losing my mind. Since Mitch has been for the most part better and can drive himself around he does once or twice a week go out and do things with his friends which does afford me a little time to myself. On the same hand I feel myself resenting him for it a little bit. He is home just like I am all day and I am the one who for the most part takes cares of all of Olivia's needs. Get her up in the morning, change all her diapers, feeds her, bathes her, reads all the stories gets her ready and in bed etc. It's not like he is working or incapable of helping so how come he doesn't help me? I am the one who cleans the house, does the laundry, does the dishes, I admit he does most of the cooking, but how come he can't clean once in a while, do the laundry, dishes etc? Especially now when I feel like I am losing my mind from having to be with both him and Olivia ALL DAY LONG!!!!! Especially now that I'm getting to that exhausted uncomfortable pregnant phase and it's only going to get more uncomfortable from here?

How come I can't just leave the house whenever I want and leave him with Olivia? When he wants to go do something with his friends I NEVER STOP HIM, HE IS NOT TIED TO OLIVIA THE WAY I SEEM TO BE. He always says that I never have anything to do anyway and I like being home...which is true in some ways. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't like a break to go to my Mom's house without having to take Olivia, to go to a movie with Allison or even alone, to wander around Target or something without a crazy demanding three year old trying to get out of the cart or screaming because I won't buy her every toy she sees. Hell even have him go somewhere and take Olivia with him so I can be alone in the house. He tells me "Oh you can go do things but you have to let me know so we can plan for it". Why do we have to "plan" for you who is not working and has nothing to do all day to watch YOUR child once in a while? It's either that or "well how come we can't all go do something, or just the two of us?" Well because number one I spend all day with both of you and I need to get away from you before I smother you both in your sleep and number two we don't have people who want to or are even really available to babysit Olivia so we could go out...not to mention he ALWAYS makes me be the one to ask his sister to babysit, he never does. I used to live in the same town as my "at the time young nephews" and I know it's not fair to assume that just because I am their Aunt and I do adore them that I want to babysit at any given free moment. I don't assume it's different for any of Mitch's sisters who have been around to babysit. I don't assume that they just want to babysit...I mean really who does? It doesn't mean that I didn't babysit, it doesn't mean that his sisters will turn me down...but I don't want to feel like I expect them to want to do it, expect them to say "Okay, what time". I mean come on Mitch, you don't even want to babysit, why would they want to?

I'm just tired and venting and complaining. But I honestly feel like I am in over my head the last couple of days and I am not so naive to think once this new baby arrives it will be better. I know Olivia is going to have a hard time with not being the center of the universe anymore. I mean even beyond just our little three person family, she really has been star of the show the last 3 years. She was the only grandchild close to my parents and not to mention the first and only girl for a while and more intensely she was the first grandchild, granddaughter, only niece/nephew around for the Benveniste side. She has been spoiled by both sides but the amount of attention paid to her by Mitch's parents/siblings/aunts and uncles etc is rather unbelievable. She is about to have three babies to contend with and I know it will be a hard transition. She adores Mitch's oldest brother "Unky Mikey" and I would say the feeling was rather mutual, he always showered her with attention and little gifts whenever he saw her. He is about to be a Daddy, really any day now. And as sad as it is to admit once you become a parent yourself...nieces and nephews just aren't as central to your life as they were before you had your own kids. I mean how to I say this without sounding completely terrible...Robbie, Kamren, David they all happened before Olivia. While I love Abraham, Liam and Vivianne...I feel much more connected to those first three, it was long before I was worn out by my own kid and didn't have as much energy to shower the next three with attention. I tell you especially Robbie, that kid has my heart. However he is now at that weird, gangly, voice changing, too cool for school, not a little boy but not a teenager yet either age. That age where I don't even know if I am allowed to hug him anymore...but I know for certain I'm not allowed to kiss him or embarrass him in front of his friends, lol. Anyways off the subject there for sure, but yeah Olivia is not only getting a baby brother in the next couple of months but 2 more cousins that all live close by and I am sad for her. I mean I love that there will be cousins but I am sad because I know her little life will change and I don't think she is ready or prepared for that change.

So long story short...I'm whining, I'm tired, I'm a baby, I'm complaining, I'm 7 months and some change pregnant, AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST I AM LOSING MY EFFING MIND AROUND HERE!!!!!!!

SOS!!!!!!

I just want to go to a movie or something for Heaven's sake...is that really so much to ask?

Thinking my thoughts

In a random list order....

1. Since I wrote that entry about the panhandler at Walmart I have seen him like countless more times...my feelings about him seem to just get more intensely annoyed. Which led me think...he is here like everyday, it must be working for him, he must be having some measure of success. Which surprises me that people who shop at this Walmart are that charitable. Come to think of it, you never see people asking for money at Target or the Grocery store...why Walmart of all places? And what happened to the days where people would have boxes of kittens and puppies they were trying to get rid of in front of stores...I mean at least they are cute to look at!

2. My dishwasher is a tease. My house is old, built long before the invention of dishwashers. Whoever owns this house has not changed much about it...the light fixtures are newer but everything else seems original, therefore if the kitchen was built before dishwashers and they wanted to preserve the integrity of the old house...that doesn't leave a lot of room to install a dishwasher once that technology arrived. So I have a tiny dishwasher, like not even half the size of a normal dishwasher. When I go to my parents and load dishes after dinner or something it seems like lavishly enormous! So when I have a bunch of dishes instead of my mind being at ease about at least I can load most of these in the dishwasher...I feel ripped off because not even half of these dishes will fit in one load if I actually want the dishes to be clean. So I have to wait around to thoroughly clean up messes or wash stuff by hand. TEASE!!!!!

3. Olivia is so bossy. I don't know if it's her age or her personality but she is so demanding all the time. She orders me to do this or that and her voice is so loud and booming I feel like I live with a WWF announcer. I live with 2 people and one cat and I feel like they all in some way are constantly trying to control me. This could be in my imagination because I seem to have irrational fears and paranoia about people controlling me and wanting to just do the opposite to piss them off. This especially applied to me as a teenager and young adult when it came to my mother. Anyways! Mitch is just plain bossy ALL THE TIME, Olivia is so demanding of "Playing", "reading" or "Juice" or what have you. Then there is Shiloh, the cat. Urghh I feel like the only true alone time I get is when both Mitch and Olivia are in bed and that has been completely taken over by the dumb cat. It's nice and quiet in the house and then all of a sudden the cat starts to meow and scratch at the door.....IT DRIVES ME INSANE!!!!!!!! I think the cat noise bothers me most of all because he just doesn't "get it". I can't believe how much I once loved this cat. I mean don't get me wrong I still love him...kinda I guess. I just treated him like a baby ever since I got him when he was a baby, so he is so needy and affectionate and really only likes me or my dad and nowadays that just annoys me. On the rare occasions that I let him in the house it's not like he can just hang out in the same room and be content. He follows me wherever I go and is always trying to jump up in my lap and rub on my face and it just annoys me. I think why can't you be a normal cat and just lay on the floor and ignore me! I think since becoming a mother I really don't much care for pets anymore. Is that sad? I mean I love animals but I don't want to live with any of them anymore...I totally get why we never had a dog growing up. Then when my mom finally was guilted into getting a pet it was the most anti-social evil cat in the world...so basically it was like having no pet at all. She was always hiding out and had no desire to be "part of the family". Then she got really old and really affectionate and then she died.

4. Mitch's surgery which was originally supposed to be in January was postponed til April. So next month on the 16th is the big day. I am so scared. I mean I guess I have always been scared since first learning he would have to have surgery but we heard this in October so January was a ways away. Then January came and Mitch decided he wanted to wait until after Olivia's birthday and so it was scheduled for April which in January still seemed a long time away. Now it's March 16th and it is officially no longer that far away and I am freaking out. I don't feel like I know what to expect and that is what scares me the most. The cardiologist and surgeon doing the surgery are all located in San Francisco so there have not been that many appointments where we could learn what to expect because simply it's a pain to have to get down there for the appointments. Especially with Olivia and usually not having a babysitter and urgh. The fact that all this is being done in San Francisco also stresses me out. I don't like being away from my home and especially don't like to be away in scary or stressful situations and this time I'm just gonna have to be exhausted and stressed out and worried and away. He will be in the hospital for at least a week after...then has to be back the following week for a check-up. Where am I going to be? Where is Olivia going to be? Mitch's parents live in the bay area but there is literally "no room at the Inn there". I'm scared for Mitchell. I know he is so afraid of something going wrong. I mean I guess everyone knows that something could go wrong even though it's not likely. But it's probably way harder to be the one being cut open to have thoughts of worst case scenarios...much easier to rationalize that everything will be fine when you aren't the one who has to do it. I can't believe this is happening to be honest. This is something old people have to deal with...why do we have to deal with it!! I mean obviously it's no one's fault Mitch was born with a crazy heart...but it really sucks even so!

5. Olivia is still not potty trained. Part of me feels crappy that I have just not made her do it and then a bigger part of me says she will do it when she is ready. My mom is always like "Emily she just turned three she should be potty trained...she should have been like a year ago". Olivia is a smart kid. She has always been quick to do things and hit milestones and you know it really doesn't bother me the way my mother thinks it should that she hasn't decided to use a potty yet. I think my mom thinks that if she is telling me about my other nephews who are potty training (or were potty trained)that are younger than Liv that this is will embarrass me into action. Or somehow kick in some sort of competitive edge in me to force Olivia to keep up. What my mother seems to not remember is that I AM NOT COMPETITIVE....AT ALL!!!! And I mean according to studies it's her fault, lol. If she wanted me to be competitive and proactive she shouldn't have made me the middle child! But I guess someone had to be in the middle and I am just the easy laid back lazy one to do it! I once read a book on birth order and although my siblings and I are not typical because there are so many years between us (which supposedly makes us all more like only children)I definitely fit the role of the middle child like a glove! So you know what if I force her to do it before she wants to...it's just going to be a disaster. She is strong willed, opinionated and so so so stubborn, if she doesn't want to do it...she's not going to. Does it make me lazy to not force her? I don't think so...at least at the age of three...I'm sure there will be plenty of battles to fight when she is a teenager.

6. Hmmmmm what else? Oh I know!!!! What seemed like a cool fun kinda thing to have/drive has become the bain of my existence. Mitch for a while after Olivia was first born became OBSESSED (what else is new) with VW Westfalias and Vanagons. He found a Vanagon for 1,000....which apparently is a steal and bought it...this was about three years ago. He really wanted a "westy" as they are called (Westfalia) but apparently they are harder to find in working order and way more expensive if they are functional. So our van is like a 1987...I think? So while older Vanagons give off a cool hippie vibe this one from the 80's.....well not so much! LOL. I think the first problem is the color. It's white and kinda a dingy white at that so it resembles something more you would see a painter or child abductor drives. I have seem many other Vanagons that look the same as mine but are a cool navy color or burgundy and they look....pretty rad. My Vanagon does not look rad. Did I mention that because of the terrible gas mileage Mitch drives the other car and so I am stuck with Olivia and the van. So the person who "F-ing loves this van" or so he proclaims everytime he drives it...which isn't often, isn't even the one who has to use it everyday!

Now on a good day when I actually do my hair and get dressed in something cute I feel kinda like a cool peace loving granola eating mother driving around in this crazy car, I feel like I can pull it off. But I mean let's face it...that is not all that often, lol. So on the days where I have to run to the store real fast and I am wearing yoga pants and sweatshirts with my hair unwashed in a ponytail where if I was getting out of some normal looking car people wouldn't look twice at me...however I am not getting out of any type of normal looking car so I basically look like a crazy homeless person or something. People make sure to hit their little lock buttons on their keys when I am getting out of the van next to them. And although I have never been one to care much what people think of me or what kind of car I drive...I mean hello remember what my 4runner looked like...I want to flip these people off. I mean really, REALLY!!!!???? You think me and my three year old daughter are going to break into your car just because I am wearing a sweatshirt and drive this stupid van....Get a effing life!!!! So I am hating the van lately. But Mitch has mentioned selling it before and the thought of it not being ours anymore...I mean I don't want to get rid of the dumb thing either. There is a small part of me that likes the van. I mean I liked it a lot before it became my main form of transportation. I think I need a sticker that says "I choose to drive this van...it wasn't the only thing I could afford...so don't judge me!"

And that....that I think should do it for today readers!