Be Careful What You Wish For

Throughout my pregnancy with John, I was looking forward to holding a little baby. Not just a baby, but a little baby. I kept imagining holding a tiny little being in my arms, so small and delicate. I knew that in time he'd grow to be larger, but I'd get to cradle something so fragile, if not for only a little while. At 8lbs 09oz, he was anything but small. From day one he was large. I remember holding him for the first time thinking how heavy he was. It was a workout just to hold and carry him. And he grew rapidly too. There were rolls on his rolls by the time he was a few months old. I was saddened that he never was my little baby. Then I got pregnant again.

This time I knew that there was no hopes of me ever having a little baby. It was confirmed near the end of my pregnancy that this was going to be a "monster" baby, easily weighing 9 or 10 pounds. There were even talks of his shoulders being too large to birth him vaginally. After Mason was born, and he was laying on my chest, I thought he felt lighter. I figured this was only because I was used to carrying a 30-some pound toddler around. When they called out his stats, I figured I had heard wrong when they said he was 7lbs 06oz, but it was so. I couldn't believe it - I had a little baby! He was so light, so little, so delicate, so perfect. But it wasn't meant to stay that way.

At first I thought he was colicky. At night he'd scream and scream and scream. I leaked whenever it was time for him to eat, and never once thought that I wasn't producing enough milk. At a month old, he weighed 8lbs 10oz. I was so happy as I was unable to breastfeed John. The second month wasn't as good. He started to scream more, and when I started to pump, I couldn't get a lot. He had a horrible latch and would pull off all the time screaming. Anytime I fed him with the bottle, he'd eat a lot - at least triple what I could pump at a session - and then he'd be happy. Happy? My screaming ball of madness was happy? I started testing my theory and decided that he was starving. He was so light, so little, so delicate, so... not perfect. I begged my husband to let me feed him formula, but he was convinced that he was doing fine. Finally I couldn't stand it any longer and fed him his first bottle of formula at 8 weeks old. Two weeks later we had him weighed at the doctor's office - 9lbs 04oz. That was not good.

Now my days are filled of me measuring his bottles, trying to get him to drink as much as he can, even though I know it's not enough. I can only hope that at his weigh in next week that he'll have gained at least 4oz, the minimum that a normal baby would gain in a week's time. I think he is lip-tied, though this has not been confirmed with the doctor yet, and that it's making it harder for him to latch onto the bottle to eat properly. 

I guess the saying really is true, be careful what you wish for because you may end up getting just that.

John at 8 weeks old

Mason at 8 weeks old

The Life of a Bumpaholic

It wasn't that long ago that I was pregnant. My youngest son, Mason, is only 2.5 months old. You would think that after having horrible natural back labor that I would be terrified to get pregnant again. But that isn't the case. Nor was it when I had my first son, John. I missed feeling them kick, seeing my belly grow rounder, and being on pins-and-needles during the last month, wondering when I'd finally get to meet my little one.

Being a "holic" of any sorts is bad. You can't stop thinking about it, and to feed into your obsession is even worse. If I were to have too many children, it would take away the crucial one-on-one time that all children deserve. The only thing you can do is to try and control your thoughts. How I deal with my urges to be a Mommy yet again is by planning the next pregnancy. I'm trying to be realistic about it though. Having another one while my husband, Zak, is in school is not optimal. But that doesn't mean that I cannot start planning on when we should try. 

I will likely have to conceive the next baby on Clomid, as I had to with Mason due to my recent diagnosis of PCOS. I would like to try to have the next baby in February, March, September, October, or December. This time I will also try to sway for a little girl through diet and the timing of sexual intercourse. I'd love to have another boy as well, though it'd be nice to have my girl and be done. If the next one is a boy, we may stop but we may try one more time. I don't think it's selfish to want a girl. 

Last night Zak and I were discussing baby names. Had Mason been a girl we would have named her Desiree. I swore he was a girl, so when they told me he was a boy, it felt like I had lost her. It sounds silly, I know, but I don't think I can name my daughter Desiree anymore. This is bound to change many times, but as of now we have decided on the names Scott Alexander Vaughan Price for a boy, and Eve Serena Meadow Price for a girl.

Great things come to those who wait, and surely they are worth waiting for.

Pregnant with John - 36 weeks

Pregnant with Mason - 36 weeks