Morning Kisses, A Co-sleeping Narrative

Approaching the thirty-sixth week of pregnancy, sleep is touch and go. Hips are aching, back is stiff and trips to the bathroom are frequent. Occasionally, I find myself wide awake at two in the morning for no apparent reason. So, when my brief periods of sound sleep cut even shorter, nighttime becomes a truly frustrating event.

At 19 months old, my son is an active sleeper, not unlike his mom. He shrieks, giggles and babbles while sound asleep. He's prone to sudden outbursts of kicking, arm flailing and sleep crawling (which often includes butting heads with me) and walking, again, not unlike his mom. He also prefers not to sleep alone and I have no problem accommodating his needs by sharing my bed space with him as part of my contractual obligation as a parent to address nighttime parenting in a peaceful fashion.

Through closed eyelids, I can tell the room is getting lighter. The sun is coming up and my early riser will soon be requesting breakfast, loudly. But, I continue to breathe heavily and do not fight the sleep glue holding my heavy lids shut, despite hearing my little stirring next to me. Most mornings are begun with him chattering and fussing and running to the kitchen screeching for oatmeal, accompanied by sloppy kisses from the hungry dog. (Maybe I just need an automatic feeding bowl for both of them?) But this morning is one of those rare mornings. Shrimpie pulls back the comforter and is cooing and laughing softly. I open my eyes a squint to his happy face hovering above me. He leans over and kisses my lips with a "BOI!" (This is his kiss noise). Despite the slobber left behind, my heart swells a bit. He sits next to me and chatters on for a while, waving his hands around (again, so much like his mother) to accentuate whatever the story is that he's tell me. He then leans forward again, plants another soggy kiss on my lips while partially obstructing my nose with his chubby cheek so I'm breathless by the time he sits back up. He pulls the blanket off me the rest of the way, pats my belly (which I can only assume is a greeting to his baby sister) and hops off the bed, saying, "Where is it?" until the dog comes loping into the room. "Ight dare!" he says and follows Otto out of the room.

I may not actually want to get up at 7 am, but I would much rather be woken this way than by a screeching alarm clock. And it really made up for being headbutted, kicked in the gut, overheated by his tiny mass and pushed to the edges of the bed all. night. long.

Expecting: Looking Forward

I have spent this entire pregnancy either living in the moment, or evaluating the past by comparing my current pregnancy to my previous. I have been very happy with this pregnancy, unlike my first. I have been comfortable, for the most part, although that is no longer the case (darn hips!), I have been happy with and trusting of my care provider and I have been growing a confidence unlike anything I had with my first.

While this is my second pregnancy and my second time giving birth, everything is very, very different. Part of that is so awesome, part of it is really scary. It's like giving birth for the first time in some respects.

I've been very patient with this pregnancy, unlike my first when I just couldn't wait to meet my son. I saw birth as a means to an end, not really as a specific event and I never gave it much thought or researched how to best go about it. This time around, I have a very clear picture of how I want to do things but that vision has had me focusing on the very real task of laboring and delivering without pain medications. And being home gives me no option to fall back on any kind of pain medication. While I'm confident I can do this and I recognize that women do it the world over and have done it for thousands of years, that doesn't take away from the fact that pain relief exists and it's in a big sterile building down the street.

I'm confident I'll be in less pain with this birth than my first. I was on a pitocin drip and laying flat on my back with a baby coming out posterior. I was prevented from eating the entire day and a half I was in labor and I wasn't allowed to get in the shower or whirlpool because I had to be on a monitor thanks to the pitocin. This time, I will not be having pitocin contractions or be strapped to monitors or laying flat on my back and (hopefully) my baby will not come out sunny side up (...hopefully).

BUT, all of that knowledge doesn't stave off the wariness of labor. For the past several months I have pinned that wariness on a patience for this pregnancy to last as long as it's going to last and figuring I just wasn't in a mindset of wanting to meet my baby just yet. But for the last few weeks as I've posted congrats after congrats for friends giving birth, I realized I had a nagging fear of being in labor again. I know it hurts. And I wasn't ready for it.

My colostrum came in a little over a week ago. And for a mama who wanted desperately to breastfeed but was unsuccessful with her first, this was cause to celebrate! And not just a little, large drops, especially after a hot shower. The first thing I said to the fella when I was telling him we were expecting again was, "I get to nurse another baby!" I have been aching to nurse again after Shrimpie self-weaned at 7 1/2 months. And since the colostrum came in, I've been really feeling the draw towards nursing even more strongly.

A friend gave birth at the start of September. I got to meet her baby girl the next day, her hair was still full of vernix and her face was all smoonchy. I started to get really excited for my own daughter's birth, still a good 2 1/2 months away. But it wasn't really until she posted some pictures the other day that I faced the nagging fear deep in my gut. She looked amazing in the few pictures that were posted. Truly, the photos made it look like she had four contractions then pushed out a baby (in reality the labor was some seven hours long). But she was smiling between contractions and her other children were at the pool's edge watching. There is a picture of her holding her baby, husband right next to her in the pool, both smiling and I felt a calm come over me.

Yes. I am totally ready to labor for my daughter. I'm ready to sway in my kitchen and dance in my shower. I'm ready to groan on my couch and moan over my birth ball. I'm ready to crawl into a small pool in my living room and share the space with my partner so he can be the first to touch the baby I've carried within me for ten long months. I'm ready to hold her to my chest and examine her face and count her toes and confirm her baldy status. I'm ready to welcome my first daughter and my second child earthside.

Thankfully, for as ready as I am, I am also still feeling a lot of patience for her actual arrival, which is not expected for a good 6-8 weeks from now. But... if the next month and a half go as fast as the last month and a half, I'll be holding my little lady before I know it. And I'm more excited about that now than at any other point in this pregnancy so far.