Sharing is Starting to Suck: Or, How Quickly We Forget

Well, okay, fair enough to say that not much time elapsed between one pregnancy and the next.  Eli was eight months old when I became pregnant again. 

So I hadn’t truly forgotten all the ailments and frustrations of pregnancy (although those memories did recede quickly).  And now, here we are again.

I have to say, for the most part I love being pregnant.  It’s an amazing process and I am no less in awe the second time around.  To grow another person inside your body in 40-ish weeks?  How can you not sit and stare at your belly in wonder?  There is so much happening every second of every day…

Sure, the beginning of this pregnancy was rough.  I had morning sickness almost immediately and it lasted nearly 3x longer than with Eli.  But then I coasted into the second trimester, my favorite stretch of pregnancy.  One day you wake up and, voila!  You simply feel better, almost like yourself.  There is energy, again, and you do not feel nauseated at the sight/smell/thought of certain foods.  It’s a grand time. 

Your belly is starting to poke out and maybe, just maybe, people are starting to think you are pregnant and not developing some kind of beer gut.  This is what being pregnant is all about. 

It goes on like this for some time.  You coast along, looking “cute” (or as cute as you can manage) in your maternity clothes, you feel the baby kick for the first time, you start to contemplate names, you daydream about how wonderful it is going to be to meet this mysterious little person hanging out in your belly.

And then, somewhere just inside the third trimester, it all goes downhill.

Suddenly, food is the enemy, again.  Except this time it doesn’t make you nauseous, it insists on burning your belly and results in acid reflux. 

You wanted to sleep?  Well, between the acid racing up your throat, your stiff hips and lower back, the Charlie horses that send you bolting upright out of sleep, the many trips to the bathroom each night to pee, the sudden onset of carpal tunnel, and your babe’s new boxing skills, you are managing an hour stretch at a time, maybe two if you’re lucky.  You wake up each day looking a little worse for wear.

And if that wasn’t enough, now that you’re tired and saddled with all-day long indigestion, good luck trying to tie your own shoes, bend over without grunting, or breathing without sounding like Darth Vader.  You’ve officially become a spectacle.

Then there’s the little guy living outside your body to contend with each day. 

Most of the time I can get through the day reasonably well.  Eli is getting heavy, and on his “fussy” days likes me to hold him and walk him around.  That is getting difficult.

So, at 31 ½ weeks pregnant, I set my sights on that 36-week mark and say, “Anytime after that, little one.  Come on down.” 

Eli was born just shy of 38 ½ weeks.  I hope like no other that this babe is on a similar schedule. 

I know all the ailments, minor inconveniences, and extreme exhaustion will end.  Of course, the exhaustion will extend beyond the pregnancy, but I welcome those first few months, where at least I can enjoy her outside my body and be exhausted.  Somehow, that is more manageable than her keeping me up all night when I can’t even hold her, yet.

After she’s born, probably not too long after she’s born, there will come a time when I will miss being pregnant.  I was astonished at how quickly after having Eli that I missed it.  “What am I, crazy?” I thought.  Here I was, acid reflux-free, able to eat anything I wanted, able to sleep (when babe would allow) without stiffness and pain, and I wanted to go back and do it all again?  Surely there was/is something wrong with me.

Right now it’s tough to fathom that I will miss all this again.

There comes a point, say like now, when I get tired of sharing my body.  I’m not even sure “sharing” is an appropriate term.  It’s nicer than saying she has completely taken over and invaded my body and I have no control over anything (which is the truth).  But I like to think of it as a sharing relationship.  However, I am tired of sharing and have started to long for my body back, so I can eat, sleep, exercise, bend over, and breathe without having someone make so many indirect objections to everything I do.  

All that said, I cannot wait to finish “cooking” this kid and to meet the little face that is waiting ever so patiently to join us on the outside.  It won’t be long now… and then, before you know it, I will forget all my complaints and look back at my pregnancy with nothing but fondness.  Sometimes, forgetting is a good thing.

A (Frog) Pot to Piss On

I didn’t anticipate potty training being such a hot-button topic.  But here we are.

I’ve always known from the get-go that I would want to potty train our kids early.  For reasons I couldn’t always articulate it simply made sense.  Why wait?  Why buy diapers for years (and then Pull-Ups, etc.)?  Why not train them before it turns into such a battle?

Of course, like so many other aspects of parenting, it comes down to what is going to work best for each individual family.  There are a lot of factors to consider, least of which is the fact that it IS a huge time commitment, and a long, long process.  I can see why so many people would choose to put it off.  Why not, right?

When I mentioned to a couple people that we were going to start training Eli soon, I was met with surprised looks, and comments to match.  Nothing negative, per say, more of an astonishment that I would start so early.

I, along with my brothers, were close to being fully potty trained when we were one.  That’s right, one.  At first I thought maybe this was one of those moments where parents look back and exaggerate the facts, perhaps the memories have gotten foggy and they just round to a convenient number.  But no, we were in fact potty trained then, and this was not considered unusual at the time, though the shift had begun, the groundwork had been laid for the current trend of delaying training.

I felt conflicted about the responses I was getting.  Should we wait?  Were we pushing Eli too soon?  There has been a lot going on in our lives lately, a lot of transition, and maybe this wasn’t the best time to establish a routine with him.

Looking for further opinions on the matter I went online (babycenter.com, where I belong to Eli’s “birth month” club, a group where parents of babies born in October 2009 can discuss what is currently going on with their child with parents of other similarly-aged children).

I saw a post that declared another parent had started potty training.  Hopeful, I clicked on it.  The parent voiced some of the same concerns I had and was looking for guidance.  Someone posted a book that had been helpful to their family:  Diaper-Free Before 3, by Jill M. Lekovic, M.D.  The poster noted it wasn’t necessarily the best how-to book (and it’s not) but that it talked about how our culture has gotten to its current stance on potty training, and why for many reasons it’s more healthy, effective, and realistic to start early. 

I was immediately intrigued and decided to read the book. 

I won’t bore you with details, though I will say if you are considering potty training early it’s an excellent resource on the history and recent changes in the attitude on potty training.  Much of the current shift is due in large part to Dr. Brazleton, and his “child readiness approach.”  You can Google his name for more info or check out this quick snippet here.

I was pleased that the book served to confirm my instincts about why I wanted to start now. 

A friend of mine gave us a potty a few months back and it’s been sitting in our bathroom ever since.  Eli was and is, of course, fascinated by it.  I always explain to him it’s his potty, and show him the sign for potty.  Occasionally, I would sit him on it fully clothed, just to get him used to it.  We’ve since moved to a smaller frog potty, which he loves (the other one was too big for him … his feet didn’t even reach the floor, and yes, this is important).

There have been other signs he’s ready:  He hates getting his diaper changed (especially #2’s), always kicking and struggling.  He’s at an age where he tries to mimic everything we do.  Finally, he has, um, rather predictable signals when he’s about to do a #2.  As my MIL pointed out, “If you know he’s going to do it, that’s the perfect time to try sitting him on the pot.”  I agreed. 

So one day I decided, “Screw it.  Let’s just start this.  It feels like the right time.”

Eli is not quite fifteen months old, and we’ve been actively training him for two weeks now.  I decided that since I’m due with our second child in less than three months, now would be the best time in the foreseeable future to spend time with him, unrushed, as he gets acclimated to this change.

How’s he doing?  It feels strange to report my child’s bathroom habits (although it’s a constant topic of discussion in our household), but I will say I couldn’t be more proud of him.  We barely ever change a #2 diaper, unless we’re out and about, and in the last couple of days he’s even started to do the sign for potty on his own, letting me know he has to go (with only one false alarm thus far). 

I’m not going to lie: I never thought he would catch on this quickly.  Not to say we don’t have a long ways to go.  We do.  But the progress he’s made in two weeks, from being fussy and momentarily upset each time we set him down, to now, giving us the sign that he needs to go?  I’m amazed.

All this being said, I’m sure others may think me critical of their decision to delay training.  Not at all.  While I do think there are some health benefits to completing training earlier, not to mention the potential for fewer hurdles, it’s like anything else: We do what works.

Ready Or Not Advice

It starts while you're pregnant: the unwelcome, unsolicited comments and questions.   

Sometimes the comments and questions are kind, based in genuine curiosity: "Your first?"  "When are you due?"  "Boy or girl?"  "Have you picked a name?"  "It must be a boy."  

Occasionally, the comments and questions are mean-spirited, or worse, judgmental.  These are usually directed at your size ("Wow, you look ready to pop any minute."  I was barely eight months pregnant, thank you), or in some activity you are partaking in.  

For example: late in my first pregnancy I would cave and enjoy a Diet Coke at my favorite Mexican restaurant, which has the BEST fountain pop in the world.  One day our waitress (my usual favorite) paused, gave me A Look and said:  “Are you sure?”  I was a little taken aback, but replied, "Yes."  "Really?" she tried again."  "Yes," I said, a little more forcefully.  It was unnerving that people I didn’t know would try to guilt-trip me; this would result in me not enjoying my very occasional indulgence.

As if the comments weren’t bad enough, then come the pregnancy/childbirth horror stories you don't care to hear, again, usually from random strangers (though not always, and really, people that know you should know better).  I’m not sure if it’s because I am pregnant again, but I've blocked out all the heinous stories people told me, as a self-defense mechanism I can only assume. 

However, my friend Jess, who is due next month, has been getting her share lately.  Everything from how a friend was paralyzed for a year after getting her epidural to a woman whose niece thought she needed to take a #2, and ended up miscarrying her baby into a toilet.  The second story, in particular, would be horrible to recount to anyone on the planet, let alone a pregnant woman.  In these moments you have to wonder what the hell people are thinking.

My problem in these instances is that I am so stunned, offended, and/or perplexed that I cannot speak, let alone come back with a witty comment or equally offensive quip.  It is only five to ten minutes later when I am struck with my "A-ha!  This is what I would say" moment.  Too late, indeed.

I thought these occurrences would end after pregnancy, but I'm sorry to report they don't.  Because now, these clueless strangers can judge you on your parenting (or in their eyes, lack of) skills. 

We are temporarily living in Detroit as my husband has work here.  Towards the end of the summer it was cooling off, not yet cold, and I still didn't put Eli in shoes.  Socks, yes.  If it was a warm day, no socks or shoes.  I don't know why but the comments I would get about this (and there were so many) drove me crazy. 

A sampling:

"It must be nice to go around life without any socks or shoes on." (this was not said in a wistful I-wish-I-was-still-a-kid way, no, this was pointed and nasty)

"Look who doesn't have to wear shoes today."

"Oh, he only has socks.  Maybe he needs some shoes?"

"Don't you think he needs some shoes?"

We didn't buy a pair of shoes for this kid until he was nearly ten months old.  He has sailed through all of his clothing and by his first birthday was wearing 18 to 24-month sizes.  Why would we waste money buying shoes he'd wear for a month?  If it were cold out, sure.  He'd need the extra warmth.  But in the summer?  Okay, end of rant.

Another memorable day was a trip to Target.  It was the last of several errands and Eli was over all of it.  The only thing that was keeping him remotely quiet was the pen (tightly capped, and at that age he couldn’t get it off) that I was letting him chew on (and he was chewing on the non-capped end, FYI).  I wheeled into the checkout, only to have the cashier give me a Death Look and say, "You're letting him chew on a pen?  Don't you know that's a choking hazard?"  My response: "That's why I watch him."  She gasped disapprovingly and proceeded to give me the Death Look for the remainder of the transaction.  What I wanted to say was, "Lady, you haul the kid around this store and keep him from screaming bloody murder.  If a pen makes him happy?  So be it." 

The thing you realize once you have kids is that, yes, you let them do things you thought you would never let them do.  There are times, if it keeps them quiet and happy, and it is of no harm to them or others, that you have to throw your hands in the air and say, "oh well."  Had I let the kid chew on the pen with the ink tip in his mouth, sure, she would have a valid reason to say something.  Otherwise?  No.

I would never step in and make such comments, especially to people I don't even know.  What place is it of mine to judge or tell anyone how to parent?  We're all doing the best we can.  Could we do better?  Probably.  But life sure would be just a little nicer if people would keep their comments to themselves. 

I am curious to hear what appalling things people have said to you while you were pregnant, what judgments have been handed down when it comes to your parenting skills, and especially any witty (or rude, yes, that’s welcome, too) comment you’ve thrown back in the face of some clueless person.  Please, share…