Big Belly Update

     The inevitable FMLA / maternity leave has finally begun. No, there is no baby yet, but this Mama's health had been deteriorating (along with her sanity) and she needed a break to help prepare this abundantly rotund body for the vigorous workout that is called labor. And frankly, I'm not sure who is more nervous about this whole process, me or my husband. He routinely informs me that he can't rest because he's anxious with not knowing the when, where, and how all this is gonna go down, like we're waiting for a nuclear attack or something. In fact, when I was having contractions the other day (which occur daily at this point), he demanded that I tell him if the baby was coming right then or not..... as if! And then today, he informed me that I'm no longer allowed to call him during the day because it freaks him out that I'm going into labor. In the meantime, he wakes me up almost nightly to ask how I'm doing.... I thought all men had an innate sense of self-preservation that warned them away from ever waking a pregnant woman, especially when she's in her 9th month!! And then, to top things off, he just stares at me while I'm in the shower.... and not in the way he used to stare at me in the shower, but in an entirely new way, as if he's watching in astonishment as the world's largest woman attempts to shave her legs without falling and taking the curtain down with her or as if she's a time-bomb ready to explode.
     Even little Isaac is amazed at my big belly. He routinely tries to climb the mountain that has become his Mama, and he lifts my shirt to try to poke my "button" back in, rubbing my stomach while saying "baby" like it's a magic lamp. He is also quite taken with my equally enlarged "upstairs" as he tries to push those "buttons" back in, too.... I think he's pretty convinced that everything in my torso is a baby, the entire womb-concept proving to be a bit to much his 18-month mentality. Cameron and Taylor are just excited that I'm no longer working. There were actually cheers (complete with fist pumps) when I informed them of my last day of work. Even if I have to spend half the time lying down while they're home, you can see the happiness radiating off of them. Taylor was thrilled that I got to watch her in gymnastics once again and Cameron's homework is improving greatly. Not to mention my own health is improving, just in this first week off! My feet are far less swollen and my back pain is much more manageable. Even my tonsillitis is nearly cleared up (thank God, no surgery was needed!) but the bronchitis is still sucking up my life. In fact, this morning, in the middle of an extra long coughing spell, my bladder just couldn't take the pressure and I ended up wishing I had saved some adult diapers for myself instead of donating them all to my work when I left last week. But lesson learned.... I now know the importance (nay, the necessity) of heading straight to the restroom when I feel a cough coming on!
     And now, it's just a matter of time.... the wait is agonizing, but the end result will be fantastic! Just knowing that my cervix is softening rapidly (although not dilated yet) helps me come to grips with the few stray stretch marks that have made their way from my hips to the lower left side of my belly, and the fact that I'm nearly two hundred pounds (holy crap), and that my groin feels like I have pulled every muscle in the forbidden zone that is humanly possible. Still, it's almost over. Will I miss it? Hmmmm, some say that I will. I say those people probably smoke crack, but whether I do miss it or I don't, I will have my little man in my arms and I will feel so grateful to have had this experience. I know it's one I'll never want to repeat again (not for love nor money!) but I'll have experienced the greatest miracle of a woman's life, an experience I didn't think I was capable of having. So, until the big day, my goals are to 1) find a machine that will carry me up and down the stairs, 2) get a catheter installed, 3) stay under that 199 pound mark, even if it means taking up jogging in my 9th month, and 4) rest (when not jogging) so that I can have a safe delivery for my little guy. Until later!!

Pregnancy Hormones Vs. Life

     Perhaps it's all the running around I do throughout my day, or the normal child neediness of my 6 and 8 year olds when I get home, or the fact that I had a whirlwind trip to Michigan for my second baby shower and maternity photo shoot, or possibly it's the fact that I had the flu for 5 days and ended up sitting in the Triage unit getting pumped full of fluids and meds.... and maybe it's just  a combination of all these things that have me worn and ragged these days. (Not to mention all the normal pregnancy joys that you other Mamas out there warned me of.... ok, screw not mentioning them! If these things have to plague me daily then somebody is gonna hear about them! Things such as insomnia, constant indegestion, peeing EVERY FIVE MINUTES, headaches, nausea, and shear exhaustion.)
     So, today, in honor of not feeling like death, I decided to try to knock a few things off of my to-do list... that ever-growing list that multiplies by 10 each time I cross one thing off. The list that haunts my dreams and makes me sleepy before I even wake up in the morning. But if I'm not puking, I should take the opportunity to be productive, right? Unfortunately, everything that I touched today broke (quite literally). Pay the bills? Sure! Except that our internet connection refused to cooperative for the first half of the day... and then, when it did, wouldn't you know that my bank's page froze on me twice AND pop-up ads almost led to the demise of my computer screen. Forget bills, I said to myelf, I'll vacuum! After spending 20 minutes untangling the cord (yes, someone is going to pay for this injustice when they get home!), I plugged in my brand new vacuum and started in one corner of the first room.
     I was branching out of my corner when I noticed a sea of dead lady bugs in the window sill (no, this wasn't the first time I had noticed them, just the first time I had bothered to care in, oh, about 8 months). So I hooked on my new handy-dandy wand attachment and sucked those little ladies right up! Feeling pleased, I put the attachment hose back into it's place and realized that I was unable to release the base of the wand from the main vacuum. I checked for special buttons, read the manual, and prayed for miracles.... and still nothing. That attachment is stuck like cement on the end of my handle, making it impossible for me to use the vacuum for anything else. Looking at my one clean corner in my one lonely room, and noticing that I had just shook out the rugs in all the other rooms in preparation for The Great Sweep of 2014, a wave of anger washed over me. My calm, rational "There must be a way to figure this out" self went right out the window and a crazed, hormonal woman that I barely recognized appeared. I found great comfort in beating the wand off the arms of the couch... I may have also found it rather therapeutic to scream at the top of my lungs, sending all three dogs, tails between their legs, running for the upstairs with panic in their eyes. And then finally, the vacuum cleaner won.
     In a fit of exhaustion, I flopped myself down on the loveseat (causing me to wince in pain because, let's face it, EVERYTHING hurts these days) and I sobbed. These were uncontrollable, face-swelling wretches that increased everytime I looked back at the sweeper. And I didn't even try to stop them. For some reason, I needed the release, and I let myself have it. Several minutes later, I was feeling slightly better, braver even, and I was ready to try again with fresh eyes. I looked back at the vacuum cleaner and spent about 10 seconds pondering the situation before I chucked the wand across the room and screamed in rage, "I'M PREGNANT, DON'T MESS WITH ME, DANG IT!!" And then I screamed some more and dissolved into a second fit of tears. I decided to call my mother-in-law, the evil woman who bought me said vacuum cleaner, to see if she had any ideas. Before she arrived to give the sweeper a try, I gave the machine one last stab, sending myself into such a tizzy that my nose began to bleed... by the time my husband's mother arrived, I was drenched in sweat, my eyes were almost swollen shut, and I was nursing my nose. Slightly embarrassed, I pointed her in the direction of the broken piece of crap that was once called my vacuum cleaner.
     Twenty minutes later, my mother-in-law was in the same state as me.... except she used cool things like pliars and hammers, butter knives and liquid soap while she did her ranting.... none of which worked, all of which caused her to yell and hit the wand off the same couch that had taken the beating earlier. So we called customer service and this was their reply.... "Why don't you wait for your husband to come home and have him fix it?" Excuse me?? For one, this isn't the 1940's! And two, unless my husband is the Incredible Hulk, he ain't going to be able to get this stupid wand off either!!! So, I yelled about that for a while too. And after two hours, my mother-in-law gave up, as did I, and I continued with my to-do list... I started to unpack baby gifts from my shower and put them away. That will be fun and productivce, right? Which it was, until I bent to pick up the first bag and my back went out. You know the drill.... I cried for a while, although carefully, as not to aggravate my nose again. And I hobbled down the stairs to let my frantic dogs outside while I rested on the unbeaten couch. When it was time to bring them back in, I knelt slowly, keeping my back as straight as possible.... and when my left knee touched the ground, I heard a POP and felt pain shoot up my leg. Unable to now bend my leg, stand upright, vacuum, or accomplish anything on my to-do list, I retired back to the couch and cried for the millionth time today.
    I'm still not sure if it's the flu, the traveling, the long days at work, or the mulititude of lovely pregnancy symptoms that have me down, but one thing IS for sure.... in the battle of Hormones Vs. Life today, it is very apparent that Life won. Now here's hoping that my husband brings home a heating pad and Bruce Banner for dinner this evening! 

A Baby Story

     It has been such an eventful week! From the exhilarating T-DAP vaccine (accompanied by a lengthy and painful reaction for this Mama) to my parents coming into town over the weekend for my first baby shower, life has been a whirlwind! It seems that overnight by stomach has grown at the same rate as the Grinch's heart when he finally learned to love Christmas. It feels as if Baby Boy is ready to bust on out of his current home with each punch and roll he makes, and by the end of each day, I feel thoroughly and utterly worn out. But I have to say, family time was just what I needed. My husband and dad stepped up and watched all the ragamuffins that attended the shower so that the mommies were free to enjoy some grown-up time and delicious food. It was so wonderful to feel such a large amount of love that day from family, friends, co-workers, and church members. My lovely friend who hosted the shower had everyone fill out a sheet that let each guest write down their wishes for Baby Boy Costa. And as I read through them later that night, I was filled with such happiness (along with many tears and outright belly laughs) knowing that this baby isn't even here yet and he is loved by so many.
     On Sunday I had to say good-bye to my family, which always leaves me feeling a bit empty inside for a few days. Luckily, I have to work such long shifts now, that I don't have time to think about such things as emptiness, sadness, hunger, or the constant need to urinate. I just go-go-go until my body falls into bed minutes after walking through the door at the end of the night. Thankfully, I had today off of work... which literally just means that I spent the entire day doing work at home that I wasn't able to do over the weekend or on the days I work long shifts, so, naturally, I pushed myself too hard and ended up on the couch this evening, elevating swollen ankles, resting my aching back, and warding off nausea. The kids' homework was done, dinner was cleaned up, and the little ones were actually playing together nicely upstairs for a change. Therefore, I felt justified to take a few moments to catch up on past episodes of A Baby Story that I had recorded earlier.
     Now, let me just say this. I find this show equal parts terrifying and gratifying, and I'm not exactly positive that it's a healthy thing for me to watch, since it causes my worrying mind to go into overdrive. But something about it is just like that car accident that you stop and stare at as you drive by super-slowly.... you wanna look away but it seems impossible to do so all at the same time. Tonight, I was halfway through the second episode when Taylor came downstairs and stopped, just in time to see the mother on t.v. begin her series of pushes. I watched her face, her little eyes as wide as saucers and mouth hanging open. "Oh. My. Goodness," she whispered to herself. I couldn't help but giggle as she watched the mother scream in pain, nurses hustling and bustling every which way. And then as she pushed the baby out and the doctor lifted the little boy onto his Mama's chest, Taylor's face burst into a huge smile. "Oh, wow! It's really a baby!" she said, still glued to the television. She was literally transfixed until the commercial break.... and that's when the questions began.
     "What was all that stuff on the baby? Where is the hole that the baby came out of? I didn't see a hole on the mommy's tummy... will her belly stay that big forever? When is our baby coming???"
     "Ok, ok, ok. First of all, that stuff on the baby was inside the mommy too, and it was keeping the baby nice and warm while he was in there. And there's no hole in the mommy's tummy because the baby came out of her privates. That's why girls have the privates they have, so that babies can come out."
     "Oh... that's just a little bit gross, I think. So, you will be naked when you have our baby?"
     "I won't be able to have pants on, that's right."
     "Oh my goodness.... so dad's gonna see your vagina???" (The shock was priceless.)
     "Uh, yeah. And the doctors."
     "But it's ok for doctors to see us naked, but NOT BOYS, MOM!!!!"
     "It's ok for daddy's to see mommy's naked."
     "Well, if the baby's gonna be naked, then everyone else can be naked too, I guess!"
     "No, not everyone, just me and the baby."
     "So, when's the baby gonna get here? How many more years?"
     "Not years... just about 2 more months. Remember, it's winter now, and the baby will come in the spring. You'll still be in Kindergarten."
     "I'm gonna be in Kindergarten for that many more years?!?!?"
     "No, Taylor, it's winter now. Then in spring I will have the baby. Then in the summer, you will be done with Kindergarten. It's only 2 more months, not years."
     "Are you gonna be old when you have the baby?"
     "No, I'll be 32 in two weeks and that's how old I will be when the baby is born."
     "Yep,  you're still gonna be old..."
     Thankfully, the commercial break ended and the show has fast-forwarded one month, showing the baby at home. I noticed right away that the parents of this particular episode named their little boy the same name that my husband and I have been contemplating. We haven't told the kids this name yet, because of their struggle with fixating on things and not liking change too much, so we've held out until we're certain. However, Taylor looks me square in the eye and tells me, "I like that name. I think we should name our baby that, too!" (And I have to say, I quite agree with her!)
     We decided to watch one more episode just as Cameron comes into the room. He takes one look at the woman on the screen and says, "Hey Mom, she's not even as fat as you and her baby is already coming??" Awesome. Thanks, Cam!! He quickly became just as transfixed as Taylor had, eyes glued to the screen, but with a much more confused look on his face than Taylor had shown.... and then the questions started all over again.
     "She's making weird noises... why is she making those sounds? It gross!"
     "Cam, she's just in pain. Labor hurts, Bud."
     "So she gets to eat ice cubes and drink juice?"
     "Yep, this Mama gets to. She needs it to help her get through the delivery."
     (Enter the tub for the water birth...)
     "You get to go swimming when you have a baby???" Taylor asks excitedly.
     "No, it's not a swimming pool, it's a tub, and some women have their babies in the water."
     "No fair! She gets to eat ice, drink juice, AND take a bath..." Cameron is actually pouting over the "fairness" of labor.
     "Cam, it's not like she's having a party, man, she's in pain, remember??"
     "Cameron, I'm not even going to TELL you why she doesn't have a hole in her tummy!" exclaims Taylor.
     And just then, with the final few pushes, the baby emerges into the water.
     "Hey, where did the baby even come from?" Cam asks, confused.
     "Mom!" Taylor whispers loudly. "Don't tell him the baby came out of the V-A.... Mom, how do you spell vagina?"
     "Taylor, you're so gross! Babies don't come out of there!" Cameron looked at his sister like she was utterly ridiculous.
     "Actually, Cam, they do. That's why mommies have the parts they have. God made us that way."
     He stares at me for a few seconds as if processing the information he's just learned.
     "Well, at least you get to have some juice." That was his final statement before leaving the room, probably to go hunt down some juice. However, at tuck-in tonight, he did ask me if he would be allowed to tie that cord into a bow and make the belly button. He was rather sad when I informed him that doctors went to school for 8 years to learn how to tie that special kind of bow, and that he wouldn't be allowed to do that part. So, as of now, Taylor loves the idea of labor (yikes) and Cameron finds it basically disappointing and unfair. What more could a Mama hope for, really?

Friend or Foe

     I woke up today and was devastated to find that I had mysteriously grown my first stretch mark while I was asleep last night. One deep, red line standing out against the ridiculously pale flesh of my right hip. I traced the line with my fingertip as my brow furrowed and a stabbing pain of ugliness began to nag its way into my mind. As I stood before the mirror, I examined every part of me (well, the parts that I can still see, that is), making sure that my frustratingly bright new mark hadn't brought any friends with him. I was saddened to see the two cysts on my thighs, ingrown hairs in places that can no longer be attended to, dark circles under my eyes, and a new patch of gray hair coming in at my temple. And let's not even dwell too long on the fact that I am much closer to 200 lbs that I am to 100 lbs, a thought that makes me nauseous and, surprisingly hungry, all at the same time. I realized that it's official.... I am now grotesque.
     So, I decided to take my hideous self to the bathroom for a shower, crying stupid tears the entire time. You know the ones I'm talking about. The tears that don't cleanse you or leave you feeling sated... but the ones that are filled with self-pity and nothingness... the ones that are vain and childish and hormonal and that reek of "I know I shouldn't be crying about this, but I just don't care"... the ones that are over a single, red stretch mark. Was there more to my morning than the mark? Sure, there always is. The kids I already have are nuttier than a jar of peanuts, I argued with my husband over something I can't even now remember, and my sweet baby Isaac looked at the dog and said "Mama" with such heart-felt conviction that I nearly had stupid tears all over again! But there was just something about that single stretch mark that pushed me over the edge into mood-swingy blubbering. Not because I pride myself on being something beautiful to behold, now marred forever by this silly line on my side, but because I now feel like a striped hot air balloon... you know, the family-sized kind. I feel fat. I feel ugly. I feel like crying stupid tears all over again because this dumb laptop I'm typing on can't actually fit on my lap anymore because I NO LONGER HAVE A LAP!!!
     What I do have, however, is a liiitttllle bit too many hormones, and tttaaaaddd bit too much sickness, and a wwweeeee bit of a problem getting a decent night's sleep (because apparently growing a stretch mark will just take it right out of a girl!). Yes, I realize that I could have woken up in some third world nation with little to no food or money to my name. I could have woken to find myself at death's door with an incurable illness. Or I simply could not have woken up at all. These things I was aware of as I balled my eyes out in the shower today. And then I remembered that I'm 6 months pregnant and that now is not the time to kick myself for being a blubbering mess and that everyone is allowed to have stupid tears sometimes, especially when they can't see their feet anymore... it's just a right of passage, I think, and I'm going to let myself have the occasional pity party every now and again (while still thanking God that I woke up in my safe, warm bed anyways!).
     What did help, however, was to realize that all these marks and changes are just reminders of the miracle swirling and kicking inside of me; Mere battle scars from this pregnancy war that I'm sure to win in just a few more short months. I know that when my little boy traces his little fingertip on my deep red line, I can choose to feel honored that his life, his very existence, is forever etched on my right hip... my special little tattoo that will always remind me of the months I carried him in my tummy (and my in back, and my rib cage, and bladder, and oh, in my lungs). Will my husband still find me "sexy" when it's time to undress for bed? Will I wear a burka to the pool from now on? Will I be tempted to Jackie Chan the next Mama that tells me, "You shoulda used cocoa butter...." in that sing-songy voice that oozes with I-told-you-so-ness? (Side note: I DO use cocoa butter, twice daily, and look who still has a red line on her side, folks!) And will I cry stupid tears again with the next stretch mark I see? I have no idea. I'm gonna go ahead and say that all of these are likely at this point. But I am going to try to see this new mark as a friend, not a foe... a line of love, not of shame... my special little mark that will forever symbolize my little baby boy.

It's A _______!!!

     I'm pregnant!!! (Wait.... wrong announcement.) We're having a BOY!!!! (Ah, ok, there we go!) Although many of you already knew what we were having, I felt the need to make it official. Most of you know that I have trouble keeping big news inside, so it may come as a shock to you that we were able to fool our families into thinking that Baby Bean Costa had his/her legs crossed during the ultrasound, making it impossible to get a clear gender reading. Little did we know, Baby Boy Bean almost pranked us with this as well! After an hour and a half of unnerving picture-taking suspense, the little fella FINALLY uncrossed his legs just long enough to get a rump-and-weiner shot... and there was really no doubt about it... this baby is pure boy.

     Was I disappointed? No. Was I shocked? TOTALLY! I spent the prior 5 months convinced that I was carrying a little princess bean, only to find out that I was going to have to drop the double 's' at the end. So, no, I wasn't disappointed... but it was a concept that took some getting used to.

Another boy.... Wowza!!

To help me adjust to the idea, I made myself find the silver linings to the news: 1) I will never pass on my cracked-out-uterus problems to a boy. He will never feel a cyst on his ovary rupture, know the awfulness of menstruation, nor have to have any surgeries to laser grossness off of his innards. 2) Boys tend to be closer to their Mamas whereas girls tend to love on their Daddys... and I want this baby to be a full-fledged Mama's boy! (Well, at least until it causes him to get beat up... and then I want him to just snuggle with me secretly and kiss me a block away from the school yard, like any other closeted Mama's boy.) 3) We have so much baby boy stuff already that this will make my baby showers so much simpler! (And yes, I get to have a baby shower for the first time in 4 kids!!)

     Ok, back to the secret we kept from our families. For a full week, we knew the gender of our little nugget, but we painfully fibbed to our parents, telling them the leg-crossed story, leaving out the whole bit about him finally revealing his boyhood to us, of course. Afterall, I wasn't able to tell my family in person that we were having a baby because of our geographical distance... so I wanted to make sure I could tell them this news in person and in a special way. To do this, I wrapped up the ultrasound pictures in blue tissue paper and homemade confetti, complete with an announcement that we were having a baby boy. I then wrapped the gifts in regular Christmas paper and planned to have my family open their gifts simultaneously at our Christmas party, and then to have Pat's parents open their gift at our Costa family party. I also wrapped two little boy gifts for both Taylor and Cameron to unwrap and be able to keep and give to the baby.

     Awww, sounds sweet, doesn't it? WELL, there seemed to be a bit of confusion at the Grand Revealing. I watched my parents faces as they opened their gift. My brother and sister-in-law caught on right away, but my mother stared at the gift in wonderment, almost as if she were thinking, "Huh... what an odd gift of a random ultrasound picture that reads 'It's A Boy!'... Hmmmm...." I waited and waited for what seemed like minutes, but in reality it was probably no more than 5 seconds before my mom yelled out in realization as to what the gift meant for her as a grandmother! All were shocked, but happy.... all except for one small family member named Taylor. My almost 6-year-old looked at me with a frown and told me that she no longer wanted a new little baby in the family if it was going to be a boy. Immediately following her disdain, Cameron let out a whoop of enthusiasm that he was going to have another boy "on his side". However, his excitement was promptly followed by a look of confusion as he asked, "Hey, is the new baby going to be black, too?" My husband chimed in with a resounding, "He better NOT be!" as I decided against having a birds and bees talk with Cameron in the middle of our family Christmas party. So, we informed Cameron that this baby will be white, and Taylor that this baby will be a boy, and that if anyone doesn't like it, they're free to file a complaint with God, but that all negativity was banned from spoiling the moment!

     Our reveal to Pat's family was much simpler (probably because it had no choice to appear simple amidst the utter chaos of how this side of the family opens gifts!! Dear Lord, it was a wonder we all made it out alive!) His father was excited to have yet another Italian male in the family, his mother suggested we start a family basketball team, and his grandmother turned up her hearing aid so that she could understand what was happening (although I couldn't blame the woman for turning it down in the first place.... did I mention the CHAOS??) Needless to say, all were happy for us (even if it was an eventual happiness.... although I'm pretty sure my grandma is still miffed that she bought the baby little pink socks for Christmas, which she had no problems informing me of.... right after she reported to me and the rest of the room how absolutely LARGE I had gotten. Classy, grandma, classy.)

     So, for those of you that need to see it for yourself, meet Baby Boy/Bean Costa!!