an open letter

Dear Monday,

Could you please stop kicking my butt, just for today?  I mean, it’s already been a very long day, and it’s not even noon.  I know you probably can’t help the fussy baby who is congested and doesn’t want to sleep lying down.  And I know you probably can’t help those 3 hours I spent crammed into the rocking chair between 4 and 7 this morning.  But really, the 6 hours I’ve spent holding 12 pounds of sleepless, fussy baby are really starting to wear on me. The endless laundry from the spit up, spilled milk, and other body fluids of a newborn are a bit much too.  The dishes that won’t do themselves and the floor that won’t mop itself are just bumming me out.


This little guy needs rest.  More than 30 minutes at a time would be great.  And if he could get that rest by lying somewhere other than my arms while standing up and rocking back and forth that would be extra special nice.

I do thank you for clearing up the pink eye, that was nice of you.


Mommy Rimes

A List

Too tired for pictures today.

So instead, you get a bunch of useless information in the form of a list.

1. I am wearing a super cute maternity sweater today.

2. Unfortunately, the hot flashes are making it not so fun to wear.

3. My belly looks like the Amazon River delta with all the blue veins criss-crossing it.

4. KnitPicks has a great free pattern for a lump of coal.

5. It’s Wednesday.  That means Miss R has ballet.

6. Being up between 3 am and 5 am is not conducive to being at school at 7 am and cheery.

7.  Donut enjoys kicking me on both sides of my belly at the same time.

8. The air conditioner just kicked in.  I think it may be snowing in my classroom.

9. I am so ordering pizza tonight for dinner.

10. I think it may have pineapple on it.

And now back to your regularly scheduled day.

Baby Watch 09: 19 days to go, and my belly button is flat.

Tea Party!

Being 33 weeks pregnant means you gotta get up in the middle of the night.  It’s a rule somewhere I think.  Most nights, I get up around midnight and am able to sleep again until the alarm goes off around 6.

The other night, I made it all the way until 3 am.  When I woke up, with the usual feelings of being too big, uncomfortable, having to use the bathroom, and not being able to sleep on my tummy, etc., I heard a noise.  I was pretty certain it was the bunny in her cage nibbling on some of her toys.  I roll out of bed and head for the bathroom.  Upon passing Miss R’s room, I see her little light is on.

“Well, isn’t that funny.  I thought we turned that off.”  Opening the door, I hear:

“Hi MOMMY!!! Want to have a Tea Party!”

Shock. Total and utter shock.

“Miss R, what are you doing up? It’s not morning yet.”

“I wanted to have a tea party. Look, it’s all ready.”

How do you get a 4 year old to understand that it’s 3 am, it’s dark outside, and it’s not morning yet when she has to get up every morning in the dark to get ready for school?  There were definitely tears when she realized that I was putting her back to bed instead of having some ice cream and tea, but once there, she passed out pretty quickly.

Once 10 am rolled around and I was getting used to sleeping on only 7 hours (it doesn’t sound impressive, but when you are this pregnant, you need all 8 and then some) it became so funny.  I totally remembered getting up really early one morning when I was little to play with my Pony’s and their castle. My mom found me the exact same way.  Up and playing and happy as a clam.  Guess it runs in the family.

And then they were 3

I’m going to give you a warning now, before you have a chance to read anything else here today: This is going to be a very sad post.

On Thursday, at my regular OB appointment, we found out that we had lost the baby.  Its little heart had just stopped.  There was nothing left to do for this little being.  Ben and I spent most of the night crying and discussing what we had to do.  I began a new scarf, more for something to do with my hands than the pleasure of knitting really.

As we began to discuss the options, I began to wind a ball from the hank of merino wool I had sitting next to the couch.  Within 20 minutes, it was a perfect ball and I had grabbed the first pattern that I saw, and began counting.  It was a way to delay the inevitable.  I didn’t want to think about this precious little bundle that would never take a breath in this world.

Sometime around 11, I finally collapsed into bed.  I was up again at 4 am, waiting for a phone call from the Dr.  She said she wouldn’t call until 7, but I wasn’t taking chances.  I was supposed to be fasting, so I spent the morning walking on the treadmill trying to ease my stress and anxiety.  It didn’t work. I worked a few more rows into my scarf.

We finally went to the hospital where they attempted to induce labor.  I kept knitting.  I brought that scarf with me and knitted on it as if with every stitch I could make myself forget why I was lying in a hospital bed.

The nurses seemed to know that I needed time alone, or else to be distracted completely.  Ben played a few hands of cards with me. Then he read to me from the book I brought.  Then I would knit some more.

I spent the entire weekend, sleeping, forgetting, remembering, and knitting.

When I finally finish this scarf, it will hold so many memories.  It may be painful to wear it, or it may be a comfort.  I don’t know yet.  But I’ll finish it; knitting and purling all my grief into one garment.

Tooth Fairy Strikes Again!

We have another happy little tooth to add to the first!  With much munching of grahams, gnawing on hands, biting of table corners, the second little tooth joins the ranks.  And of course, the wonderful sleepless nights that go along with it.  Last night, Baby was up at 11, 1, and 3.  The last of which was an hour and half marathon of crying, biting, and all out wailing. 

Anyone with suggestions for getting through this with as little sleep deprivation as possible will earn themselves some serious brownie points or cookies.