Props to Ops!

As you may have read in yesterday's post, I had my pre-op appointment today to discuss all the ins and outs of the scheduled cesarean.

It was surprisingly insightful. I just assumed it would be the usual doctor jargon, but because I was unconscious the last time this procedure was performed on me, all the information was new and intoxicating! The befores, durings and afters were all discussed in-depth, and unfortunately for me, so were the complications (for which you KNOW I will dwell on one day in the near future!)

So, here's what 7/7/2010 looks like for me:

11:59 of July 6th - Make sure I have fed myself silly. This is essentially the last supper for a LONG time! (beginning at midnight I am no longer allowed to eat anything, not even Tums - not that I have heartburn, but I'm just saying...when you can't even have an antacid, that's serious stuff!)

Midnight 7/7/2010 - 7:00am - Toss and turn and pretend to sleep, but the nervousness of upcoming surgery is taking it's toll, as well as the excitement of FINALLY meeting the little bean!

8:45am - Pack the car with husband, hockey bag of things I'll never use (cuz I'll wear one pair of pyjamas the entire time, but it'll make me feel better to know that I have the option of a wardrobe change if necessary), body pillow (which will inevitably take up more space than me in the craftmatic adjustable hospital bed) and make our way to the O.R. during rush hour traffic...ugh!

9:45am - Check in to admitting and REMIND the clerk that I've requested a PRIVATE room...so, I'm getting one, right? RIGHT????

11:45am - Get this show on the road!

Now, there were two instructions that I found quite interesting during my pre-op appointment:

1) No nail polish. Wha? Come again? How the hell does nail polish interfere with a stinkin' c-section? I didn't get a very good answer (or at least one that I was completely satisfied with), but essentially it boils down to the fact that high risk patients aren't allowed to be all dolled up for fear of complications (????) so it's just easier to say, no makeup, no nail polish, no jewelry, etc., for everybody. No special treatment. So, not only have they provided me with a fantastic excuse to look like a repulsive slab of flesh, but now I have a real reason to keep my Flintstonian toes naked. (Mental note: take pedicure off my to-do list!)

2) No shaving. I asked because they will be making an incision near the bikini line, I am half Italian and my stomach is the size of Mt. Olympus...need I say more? The nurse said that it was worse to shave or wax that "area" because the opened hair follicles can trap bacteria and cause infection. Again, perfect excuse to stay au naturel, just like God intended, right? (please see picture below...this is what I would look like sans maintenance...from the waist up...so you can only imagine what below the belt looks like.)

Now, all kidding aside, my real questions involved things like:

Will I be able to hold my baby immediately after the surgery (Answer: Yes, as long as all is well with mommy and baby they encourage skin to skin contact)

Will I be able to breastfeed immediately after surgery (Answer: No, not until we reach the recovery room. They don't want to take a chance that the baby will kick surgical instruments or cause trauma to the incision until everything has been stitched up)

When can I see my baby #1 (Answer: As soon as I leave the recovery room. I wasn't terribly keen with this answer, as one can be in the recovery room for an extended period of time, depending on when a regular maternity room becomes available...BOOOOOO!)

And finally, at the end of the appointment, the nurse asked me to look into the two types of anaesthetic they offer for scheduled c-sections (spinal vs. epidural) and make my choice before the 7th. I'm leaning toward the spinal, but haven't looked into it enough yet to be positive (if you have any insight, please feel free to give me a shout!)

So, satisfied with the appointment, I moved around the corner to meet up with my OB for my weekly rendezvous. Baby is still breech, but my doctor has assured me that a) my baby HAS a head and b) the head appears to be of a REGULAR size (please see "Devil In Disguise" post if unsure of the reference). She also informed me, after 2 1/2 years, that the reason I had a c-section the first time was because my spine curves into my pelvis making that area a bit tight (hence my son's hesitance to drop - and maybe that's why this one is breech????). I also asked her what she thought about belly binding (but I referred to it as "post-surgery abdominal support" to the OB, of course, as not to appear narcissistic or egocentric - little does she know!) She said that she's neither here nor there on them. She says some people say they work, some people say they're useless...but if it makes me feel better to try it out, go for it. I said "Awesome!" And finally, I broached the subject of sterilization. She basically said "Are you sure?" and I said "I think so" and she said "Did you say, I think so? Cuz if you did, you're not a candidate for tubal ligation" and then looked at my husband and said "...and why can't you just do it?", which I appreciated.

Needless to say, today was a pretty good day, filled with mildly reassuring news about the surgery and the baby. Now it's all about the waiting...tick, tick, tick!

The Final Cut

Though I love Pink Floyd (a lot, but not nearly as much as The Beatles) this post is not about their terrible album, but rather about (get ready for it) PERMANENT STERILIZATION (echo, echo, echo!) As I was sitting at my desk filling out my pre-op appointment forms for my meeting with the anaesthesiologist tomorrow, I was thinking about questions I wanted to ask him or her, and the ideal of permanent sterilization popped into my head (sounds so icky and clinical...yuck!). I'm very sure that two is company and three's a crowd when it comes to kids. Two, for me, is the perfect number. The family can take trips and everyone has a buddy. When we go on rides at Disney World, no one has to fight over who gets who...kids together, parents together. When we go to the mall and the kids run away (it's inevitable, right?), I can grab one and my husband can grab the other. It's the perfect family dynamic, no?

If I'm SO sure that two is the magic number then what options do we have to ensure that this number stays put? While most Catholics would be shocked and awed to consider any approach other than the withdrawal method (luckily I was baptized Presbyterian) there must be other ways to keep any future babies at bay. The most obvious of answers is classic birth control (either condoms or pill form). I think that I was on the pill for more than half my life and I'm SO over the migraines and the mood swings that come along with it. What about condoms? Do I really need to say more? So what options are left?

I think the most obvious is Vasectomy. Now, to me, the vasectomy sounds like a fantastic idea. I did have to go through almost 20 months of pregnancy altogether, so 48 hours of pain sounds like a cake-walk. The procedure is simple enough. Dude goes into the clinic, the doctor freezes his sack, essentially goes in, makes two snips, and stitches the hole closed. DONE AND DONE. Then the dude sits on a bag of peas for 2 days and can't lift anything heavy. Easy peasy. Unfortunately, upon further investigation, it can be a little more serious than that. Note that I said CAN...Sexual difficulties can occur in patients who've had the procedure done. Normally the difficulties are completely psychological, however. There have also been some studies that have linked prostate cancer to vasectomies. There was, however, a MAJOR study performed involving over 2,000 men that clearly concluded that there was no association between the two. Lastly, vasectomies have a tendency to be more common because they're thought to be easily reversible. This is NOT the case, as I've noticed in my research. Apparently only 50% of vasectomy reversals are successful.

Now, the other option, and most practical for my situation (as I'm already going to be cut open) is tubal ligation. The procedure is much more complicated than the vasectomy, but again, because I will already be agape, the intricacies of surgery have already been dealt with. Adding this procedure to the c-section essentially adds a mere couple of minutes to the entire surgical time. There are also proven benefits for women who have had their tubes tied. Apparently, the procedure decreases the risk of ovarian cancer up to 1/3 and also blocking the tubes can keep other unwanted bacteria out, diminishing pelvic inflammatory disease. One setback, however, is a common side-effect called Post Tubal-Ligation Syndrome, involving painful and irregular periods. This syndrome has never been studied extensively and most physicians don't think it even exists. Lastly, the reversal success rate of tubal ligation is slightly higher than that of a vasectomy. It runs from about 60%-80%.

So, it seems that if my husband and I are sure that two kids are enough, getting my tubes tied would appear to be the most logical way to go. The issue then becomes the snappy decision that would need to be made. The decision to have the tubal ligation procedure would have to be made even before my second baby was born. That's pretty immediate. And, God forbid, if anything were to happen to either child (knock on wood that nothing would ever happen), I may feel a huge amount of regret in our hasty decision. The choice to have a vasectomy can be made months, even years after the fact, without feeling hurried or rushed. It's definitely something that we, as a family, will need to discuss in depth over the next four weeks. But the more I think about it, the more complicated the decision seems to be.

W.W.G.D.?

...and if you're not familiar with this acronym, it technically stands for What Would God Do...but for all intents and purposes this blog writer has officially changed it to What Would GISELE Do, because we should all use her as a benchmark to measure our self worth as moms-to-be and mothers, no?

Today's dilemma presented itself as I was surfing the web (while busy at work, of course) and stopped off on Facebook, where I received a message from Paul McCartney (can you believe Paul McCartney actually sent me a message on Facebook? Me neither, but a girl can dream, right?) saying that he was finally making his first appearance in Toronto in FIVE YEARS and advanced tickets were on sale NOW.

Now, if you know me you know that I LOVE THE BEATLES. And when I say LOVE, it's a true understatement. My son is named after two of them, and he can sing more Beatles tunes than he can Sharon, Lois and Bram (yes, I'm so 1980s, and I should really reference something from this millennium, but I'm too lazy to actually look into it - plus those of you readers with no kids are more likely to relate to SL&B than say, The Wiggles, right?) Seeing all the Beatles live has been on my "bucket list" for a very long time, and since two of the Beatles are dead (one of which has been since I was 3), that only leaves me with 2 left to see. A couple of years ago, my husband and I made the trek out to Orillia to watch Ringo Starr and His All-Star Band play at CasinoRAMA, which was ...um...insightful...so then there was ONE.

Where's the dilemma? Get the freakin' tickets, already! Well, the tickets are on sale for August 8th. PERFECT! August 8th. Big deal. Well, for those of you who are tracking my peanut's birth (which I'm sure ALL of you are...NOT!) it's a mere ONE month after my scheduled c-section. So, you can see that I'm at an impasse.

Now, if Paul McCartney came every year, it wouldn't be that big a deal...but the dude is already a couple weeks shy of his 68th birthday. This is not the most opportune time to miss out on a show, cuz he may not be back for his 73rd birthday, if you catch my drift.

Technically it could very well be a once in a lifetime opportunity for me, right? Done and done. Decision made. Er...not so much. What about the new baby? As my angelic friend Gisele perches herself on my left shoulder and whispers her judgments to me, the guilt sets in. After the birth of my first child, I very rarely left the house in the early goings (mostly because I felt terrible leaving him with anyone other than myself or my husband as he was colicky and miserable)...How can I be so sure that I will be ready, willing and able to leave this new one. Will I be abandoning him or her? If I'm not, will I feel like I am?







I will be breastfeeding this child (as long as I'm able) so that will also make this outing a little more difficult. Do I want to be introducing a bottle that early on? Even if I am willing to do that, will I be able to express enough milk to get me through the entire concert? Will my boobs explode because I will be away from the baby for an extended period of time without a feed? Of course, I ask myself W.W.G.D? Technically speaking, she'd probably call up her buddy Stella and ask if her daddy would be willing to do a quick concert in her backyard, singing lullabies solely for her baby...but if Gisele was a regular person like me or you (as she pretends to be)...what would she really do? Would she sacrifice one evening in her little baby's very early life to fulfill a lifelong dream? Would she be the martyr and stay home and watch this once in a lifetime opportunity pass her by? Or would she slap her wee one in a Bjorn (as pictured) with some headphones in tow and bring them along? Who knows, really, cuz she's rich and famous and this would never be an issue for her.



All I know is that I'm going to feel guilty either way. If I miss the show, it could very well be one of my biggest regrets. If I go to the show I KNOW I will be fretting the entire time, checking my phone for frantic text messages begging me to come home because no one can care for my baby like I can (which would NEVER really happen)... In the grand scheme of things, I'm sure it doesn't really matter. I've lived this long without seeing him right? The baby is surely going to be okay for 5 hours under the supervision of a loving grandparent. Well, tickets are being delivered in two weeks, but this may end up being a game time decision. So, all of you Sir Paul fans out there, keep that night free. You could be the winner of some Macca tickets if Mama is feelin' the pressure.

Should I Stay Or Should I Work, Now?

Here's my life's weekly recap:

YAYS
* Veggies have FINALLY been planted in the garden

* Still no stretch marks (I feel the time bomb ticking!)

* Though Aquafit for Whales is officially over, I did find out that E-Dot's very own Gisele is 15 months postnatal. She might be taking advantage of the pregnant community's system (as one would think after 15 months, you could probably try out a REGULAR aquafit class) but it also gives me a little more hope (and a lot more time) to try and get my body back in shape.

* Back to sleeping upstairs (much to my husband's chagrin)

* C- Section date has officially moved up to proper due date. July 7th, here he or she comes!!!!

BOOS

* Hair has been cut. Though not a typical "mom cut", it's still 6 1/2 inches shorter than it was in the beginning and not 100% to my liking. I guess it grows back, right?

* Cat poop has been spotted interspersed in my veggies. Guess the eggshells and coffee grounds aren't doing the trick

* No idea what the heck this peanut in my belly is doing or which way it's facing

* Gained 4 POUNDS in two weeks according to my OB (The real Gisele would be disgusted, no doubt)

GOALS

* Flipping this baby

* Stick to gaining ONLY one pound per visit now that my OB appearances have moved to weekly (it's gonna be a tough mission)

* Get a pedicure and a massage (yes, still...)

It's 4:20am. I've got the munchies...and not for obvious reasons. Today my cousin had her bridal shower and my aunt (her mother) went all out and baked about 7 Kajillion cookies. Now, you have to understand, my Zia is a baker like no other. Her cookies are to die for, LITERALLY. So, put a 1,000 lb pregnant woman with a sweet tooth in front of that temptation and this is what you get:

AND to make matters worse, she sent us all home with brown paper bags FILLED to the brim with leftovers! Yet, as I tossed and turned with gut rot from all the sugar I ingested throughout the day, I can't help but want to eat more. So far, I've resisted the seduction, but I'm not sure how long I'm going to last...Thanks, Zia, for a lovely day, but if I go over my weight goal at this week's doctor's appointment, I'm blaming you and you ALONE!

This weekend has been my first taste of true uncomfortableness. I know you're snickering at home, saying, "Dude, are you crazy? You've been complaining for TWO straight months now about how uncomfortable you are!" Fair enough. But this has hit an all-time low. I'm having trouble breathing, and just walking upstairs leaves my legs (and arms, and lungs, etc.) burning. I realize that technically this is my own fault. My eating and exercising habits are nothing to brag about...but I don't remember being any "healthier" with my first born and certainly don't remember feeling this HUMONGOUS this far away from my due date. Which leads me to my latest dilemma. Work.

Now, I'm a very lucky person. My husband's job has allowed me to stay home with my toddler (a luxury that most families nowadays aren't fortunate enough to have) and "raise" him. But, as I've said on numerous occasions, this is one of the toughest jobs out there and every job is required to give its employees some official vacation time, right? RIGHT! Well, my vacation time came in the form of a part-time job. One that pays well, gives me the flexibility to leave my son with my mother-in-law and allows me the opportunity to speak to someone above the age of 2. AMAZING, right? Tell me about it!

When I officially told my boss that I was pregnant, the first question she asked me was "When are you thinking of leaving". Valid inquiry, of course. And based on previous experience, I told her that I was willing to work up until the baby officially fell out. As I grow larger and larger, however, my office space is beginning to shrink. The hike from floor to floor is getting slower and slower and progressively more difficult for me. With four and a half weeks left before my due date, I'm wondering how much longer I can last in my present state. And what happens when I only get BIGGER and BIGGER in the coming days? I can truly attest to the fact that the lure of having two days off (Like, really off - no work and my mother-in-law watching my son) is becoming more and more enticing. But will guilt and work responsibility prevail? I'm not sure.

Because I found out early into the starting of my job that I was pregnant, I found out that by the time I gave birth I wouldn't accumulate enough hours to qualify for the maternity benefits provided by both the company that I work for and E.I. Obviously EXTREMELY poor planning on my part. In addition to that, because I work only two days a week, my part time position doesn't give me vacation time, but rather pays me out on a bi-weekly basis. So, knowing that in a month's time, the extra income coming into the house will be cut short is a BIG incentive to stay on the job. Also, I feel a certain obligation to my boss to follow through on the initial promise I gave her. She has yet to hire on a replacement, and I should really be around to "train" the new hire, right? It's only fair.

But as I lumber around the hallways, I notice everyone's sympathetic eyes following me. Mothers around the office can all feel my pain. Each of my Flintone feet feel like bricks as I shuffle around and the pregnant lady waddle has taken over. Is it more important to get my rest and take it easy? Put my feet up before the real work begins? Or will that give me too much time to sit and think? Too much time to play on the computer and check for terrible things on the internet? More time to sit and wallow in my own obese self-pity? Time is really ticking for me to make this decision and I'm not sure what my choice will be. To quote The Beatles "won't you please, please HELP me?"

The Devil In Disguise

I've come to the conclusion that the Internet is EVIL.

Okay, maybe I'm being a little bit harsh...but still. I'm old enough to remember hiking my butt to the local library to do essays and research "papers" and using such antiquities as an encyclopaedia and (gasp!) the dreaded microfiche, so I understand how amazing the internet really is in the grand scheme of things. Imagine having to work under the confines of the library's hours of operations nowadays just to look up some frivolous tidbit! No WAY, Jose! Plus, would a microfiche really tell you what else that dude on Friday Night Lights was on, because you recognize his face, but just can't place him? Probably not...and how would you look for that information anyway? I don't think there's an entry for random Friday Night Lights actors in Encyclopaedia Britannica.




Anyway, I get it. The internet is convenient and, for the most part, it's a godsend. All the information one could dream of at the touch of a keyboard, 24 HOURS A DAY! But this flood of information also poses a bit of a problem. Sometimes too much information is a bad thing.



For example, my baby is breech (STILL!), so I hopped on the computer to find out why babies are breech and what to do to flip them (as seen on previous post). Discouraged after my pre-natal OB appointment on Wednesday, I wanted to check and see what I could really do to turn this defiant little beast as the reality of whispering sweet nothings into the vagina was seemingly more of a last resort than anything else. I also checked a couple of sites that discussed possible reasons for breech births...some of which seem like viable reasons (large uterus stretched from previous births, too much amniotic fluid so the baby floats rather than settles into the proper position, prior c-sections, low-lying placenta) and others were just plain scary (hydrocephaly, anencephaly, congenital defects) which were accompanied by equally scary photos (see below!)























(no comments from the peanut gallery on the size of the head of photo #1 versus the size of my husband's head, please!)



And of course, what do most mom-to-bes focus on? You got it! The birth defects! My main concern was that my child would be deformed if he/she remained in this position, so I needed to do whatever was necessary to coax it to flip. My first attempt was the pelvic tilt. My husband turned on Game 1 of the Lakers/Celtics Finals (Go RAY ALLEN!), stuffed a bahzillion pillows under my butt and got me on my way. My head and shoulders were to remain flat, back down flat on the ground, and my hips needed to be elevated above the head/shoulders. Apparently this shifts the baby out of the pelvis and gives it the space it needs to turn. I had to do this for 20 minutes. After about a minute and a half, I realized that I couldn't breath anymore, as the baby was pushing against my diaphragm...but those images kept flashing in my mind, so I kept at it. Then I felt all the blood rushing into my head...but those images...they're VERY persuasive! At the 20 minute mark, I rolled off the pillows, tears running down my face, gasping for oxygen and my head pounding, but at least my baby would be normal right? Well, unfortunately I forgot to read that this "exercise" needed to be done 3 TIMES A DAY! And the reality was that I really wouldn't know if it worked until the OB checks me again next week.





Off to bed I went, hoping that this child would miraculously flip and I could sleep soundly (and get those frightening pix outta my head!)...to no avail. Rather than flipping, I felt barely any movement at all, which is unusual, as the baby generally has a 10pm party in my belly. Finally at 6 am I got out of bed and again, turned that devious computer on to fill my brain with MORE useless information. Step one - Run up and down the stairs. Okay...still no movement. Step two - Drink something cold. Okay...still no movement. Step three - Eat something sugary. Okay...still NOTHING!!!!!! Step four - This time on kick counts. Apparently at this stage, the mother to be should feel her fetus move 5-6 times an hour. So, I started my count. By 6:45am I had felt nothing. NOT ONE MOVEMENT. Panic sets in. WHAT HAVE I DONE? The pelvic tilt must've moved the baby against the cord and now it's not getting oxygen. It can't breath in there!!! I immediately called Telehealth, (next to the internet, this is my favourite resource) sobbing like a maniac. The nurse on the other line, who was MOST helpful and understanding, tried to make sense of what I was saying in between sniffles, but got the gist of it and asked me to go to emergency room immediately just to be sure the baby was okay.





I ran up the stairs to tell my husband who, in a jiffy, got my toddler dressed and ready to go. As I sat waiting, the stinkin' little beaner decided to jump. I grabbed my pen and paper and began recording kicks. 1, 2, 3...7..10 all within minutes! So much for an hour! My child was moving about like it'd stored all it's energy for this very moment! I guess today was the day he/she decided to have a little sleep in! Good grief!

My husband says that it must be a girl, because no boy would ever try and scare their parents like that. Needless to say, I'm thankful, boy or girl, that everything is okay. Movements are normal and have been for the last 24 hours! I've also made a mental note to keep my fingers off the keyboard as much as I can with regards to researching important fetal facts. And with only 4 1/2 weeks to go, my patience is growing very thin to meet this little one, and send him/her to the naughty chair PRONTO!

You're So Vain, You Probably Think This Blog Is About You

...er wait...it IS about me.



This post is strictly about vanity... and the price a mom-to-be, and eventually a mom, pays when she signs up for the most difficult job in the universe. Because I'm convinced that this is my LAST pregnancy, I'm very focused on getting back in shape once that kid is out! After my last pregnancy, I admit I was a bit lax when it came to exercising. Breast feeding was an amazing experience (for weight loss....um...and I guess for bonding?), as it got me well below my pre-pregnancy weight after about a year. THEN I stopped...And the weight came creeping back up, and up, and up, until I basically had no choice but to either a) exercise (or risk the chance that I would become morbidly obese, as I was gaining close to a pound a month!!!) or b) get pregnant again. I guess we all know what choice I made. Getting pregnant is so much easier than peeling one's butt off the couch to actually exert oneself, no?



Anyway, I've made it a goal of mine to get back down to the weight that I was a year after my son was born again. I know I can do it, since I did it before. It's just a matter of MAINTAINING it. The other issue that I found (and it may just be my experience, or an experience that many c-section moms have in common) was getting back my flat stomach. Even though I weighed less than my pre-pregnancy weight a mere year and a half ago, my stomach still had a bit of a gunt happening. (For definition of gunt, please see post #1). Now, getting that flat tummy may pose to be slightly difficult to get, as I'm having major surgery (maybe I can convince my OB to give me a little tummy tuck while I'm under the knife...? Isn't that what all the celebrities do?) but I've promised myself to give it my best college try.


So, for all those who don't know...the body goes through a lot of changes post-pregnancy and it takes some time to get back to normal (if you don't have a chef, personal trainer, plastic surgeon or strong inclination towards anorexia or bulimia). And the Hollywood standard makes it even more difficult to justify those extra 5-10 pounds that are most impossible to lose, even after a year post birth. I mean, if Gisele can be skinnier than she has ever been 4 months after giving birth to her little guy, surely EVERYONE can do it (please note: she also only gained a mere handful of pounds because she didn't feel it was necessary to turn her body into a "garbage disposal", and didn't use any sort of medication during labour - SHE IS A GODDESS, no? ) Please tell me you got my sarcasm here...




So, with a few obstacles in my way (including age, second pregnancy, c-section, garbage disposal pregnancy body), I felt it was best to look into what I could do to get myself started. Obviously Gisele brags that she did Kung Fu twice a week and yoga 3 times a week before she gave birth...but me? Not so much. I'm lucky to get my whale ass in the pool once a week to float around with other trashcan bodied moms (with the exception of Etobicoke's very own Gisele), and I hardly think that chasing around a two year old constitutes heavy exertion (especially when my butt is usually planted firmly on a park bench or swing)...Exercise at this point in my pregnancy is most likely not an option (mostly because I'm lazy)...So what can I do?


Well, I felt like I should look to other moms whose bodies I admire to see what they recommend...and this is who I came up with:

Brooke Burke (who I think is one of the prettiest no-namers in Hollywood). Again, I realize that she's technically a "celebrity", so she has access to a personal trainer and a chef, and she WAS married to a plastic surgeon once upon a time...but all those things aside, she's had 3 kids and her body looks like this:

So what does Ms. Burke recommend? She advocates a sensible diet and exercise (blah, blah, blah...where's the quick fix here????) AND belly binding.

BINGO!

Now you're talking...So, where do I find out more about this? The Internet, of course! Essentially it's a girdle that wraps around the abdominal area and it's intended to reduce the swelling of the uterus, support the abdominal muscles after surgery (I'm likin' it. I can use the excuse that it's a surgical bandage! Wicked! See, I'm not so vain after all. I NEED it!) as well as help to support the back and legs. This wrap can also help moms fit into pre-pregnancy clothes earlier (...now I'm really likin' it!). They do, however, have to be worn 24 hours a day for 6-8 weeks to see any results (no pain, no gain, right?). So, it looks like these wraps are miracle workers, right? What next? I logged on to amazon.com, of course, and ordered myself up 2...one a medium and one a small (one never knows what size they'll be right after the baby's born, right?). They have arrived all crisp and white in their little packages waiting to give me the waist line I've been dreaming of.



I know it seems too good to be true. Can you really just wear a stinkin' tensor bandage around your midsection for a couple of measly weeks and your stomach will be flat? Probably not, but it eases my mind a bit knowing that I've taken my first step to Mom Jean Refusal. I mean, I'm clearly too young (?) to look like this, right??

The Verdict Is In: Guilty As Charged!

Judge me. I know you're going to anyway, so I'm giving you permission...I would judge me too, if I were you. My son, who is approaching his 26th month, still drinks from a bottle in the morning and before bed. It's completely ridiculous, I know. Especially when he has no issue when it comes to drinking from a cup. He has several cups of water throughout the day, a cup of water with his lunch, a cup of milk (with a splash of chocolate) for dinner. I haven't even tried to NOT give him a bottle. What's my problem??? What am I doing??? I'm trying to hang on to this one last slice of babydom??? Am I ruining his life by allowing him to drink from a bottle when he's basically going through puberty??? Am I creating issues that he will forever blame me for??? Will he be sitting on a shrink's couch in 40 years and the psychiatrist will say..."Ah, yes! It's because you were almost 2 and a half and your mother was STILL giving you a bottle"?????....Probably not. But still. It's totally, completely and utterly absurd. AND I've tried to justify it to myself for too long.

LIE: He won't drink his milk unless it's in a bottle, therefore, he won't get his daily calcium intake unless I give him his bottles.

TRUTH: He drinks his milk just fine out of a cup at dinner time.

LIE: He won't drink milk unless it's warm.

TRUTH: Again, dinner time milk is cold and he has NO problem drinking it, AND, one can always warm it up and put it in a cup, right?

Anyway, I've deluded myself LONG ENOUGH. My husband and I have decided that this coming weekend we will start to "wean" our little guy off his morning and evening bottles. I'm not sure how it's gonna go, but I'm anticipating a little bit of a struggle - not so much in the morning (as there are plenty of other distractions), but I'm going to have to put my gloves on before bed time. I think the best course of action is to eliminate the morning bottle first, and then SLOWLY (???? I'm trying to get a grip! Really I am!) work our way to the nighttime bottle. I've promised myself I will be firm. If he cries, I will DEFINITELY not give in....right?? If he begs, I will DEFINITELY be strong....right?

Perhaps my conscience has given me permission to loosen the tight grip I have on baby #1 and give him a little more independence knowing that I'll be able to baby #2 in a few short weeks. I'm not 100% sure what my issues are here, but I know that this weekend could end up being a painful one for the entire family...(or it may go smoothly). Only time (and this blog!) will tell. And for all of you Judge Judies out there, wish me luck, as I have two other HUGE milestones to deal with after this one: Getting rid of the soother AND potty training. And I thought raising kids got easier as they got older....??? SHEESH!