New babies, dreams, and poop stories
Last night, I dreamed that I went to the hospital to have the baby. One of my work friends, Nadia, was my nurse, and someone else was with me (not sure who). Nadia got me set up in my hospital room and then left and said she'd be back later. Then I realized that the baby was transverse, which meant I wouldn't be able to deliver. I was really upset, but then I just decided to flip him, so I mashed my belly where his head and butt were and flipped him. Then he just basically slid, painlessly and effortlessly, out of my body! My friend and I were pleased and amazed. Then we just sat there, with the baby still attached to me via the cord, for maybe half an hour until Nadia returned. She then said, "Well, I guess you didn't need me after all!"
The baby was really hairy, but it wasn't that soft, newborn hair. It was weird, course, gross hair, and it made him kind of ugly. But I didn't care. I loved him so much anyway. I celebrated by texting all my friends to say, "I had my beeb!"
At that point in the dream, I half woke up, rolled over in bed, and had to think for a few seconds and touch my belly before I realized I hadn't actually had the baby. Then I thought, in my half-awake state, "Damn, I texted all those people. I'd better text them back to say I didn't really have the baby."
Then I fell back to sleep and commenced to re-texting in my dream again. Then in the dream, I got up and started wandering around my house, and I happened upon the bassinet, which was set up in the dining room, and there was the baby! Crying! I thought, "Huh, I did have the baby!" So I picked him up and sat down to nurse him. And this time, he wasn't hairy and ugly but cute and perfect.
I'm not sure if I woke up then, but the night was restless with lots of brief awakenings and confused wanderings back into that dream (and others).
I don't remember having trouble sleeping during my last pregnancy, but I've had an annoying quantity of nights of fitful rest this time around. There is a lot going on, and a lot on my mind. I posted not too long ago about how we are asking a lot of Penelope recently by bombarding her with news of her coming baby brother, the arrival of her big girl bed, and the advancement of the weaning process. But if a lot is being asked of Penelope, then a lot is being asked of me as well: doubling the number of dependents in the household, thinking about having a baby who is a boy when I am used to having a child who is a girl, trying to get Penelope potty trained, worrying about maternity leave and work, worrying about money, etc, etc, etc. Sometimes I wake up with my mind racing, and usually I start to feel hungry, too (because at 3 or 4 am, it's been hours since I ate last!). Then I think of that line from Charlotte's Web: "Wilbur's stomach was empty, and his mind was full. And when your stomach is empty and your mind is full, it's hard to get to sleep." I remember being very, very young and asking my mother for some explanation of this line. Now, none is necessary!
But things are looking up. My mind is working through some of the puzzles, and I'm again feeling excited at the prospect of having a tiny little baby who is just newborn weight in my arms. Thinking about tiny little socks. Thinking about swaddles and slings. I bought an antique pram and am so stoked about that--hello, photo ops! I registered for gifts in anticipation of the shower my friend Blythe is throwing for me, and all the cute baby stuff made my heart swell.
Another heart-swelling moment: Penelope read her bedtime book to "the baby in the belly" the last two nights. I couldn't not grin stupidly as she recited the words of her book (My First Book of Sushi, one of her favorites, which she has mostly memorized), then placed the book in my lap and repeated the important words as she patted my belly. "Tofu in my bowl, baby!" This after she spent the first five months of this pregnancy opposed to the very idea of a baby. This morning, she even reminded me that she read to the baby in the belly.
With her friend Nora:
Finally, on the topic of potty training: Penelope was tapped at Baby School for potty training last month, a two-week process I have been anticipating for as long as we have gone to this day care. The evening we received the magical letter, I took Penelope to Target to buy a potty and some training panties. She was insanely excited and exclaimed to every stranger who looked at her, "That's my potty! That's my underpants!" Week One involved taking her to day care with underwear on over her diaper so she could get used to pulling pants up and down and sitting on the potty. Week Two was all underwear, no diaper, the idea being she would get wet, realize she didn't like it, and make the connection with using the potty. Predictably, this was not entirely successful at the start of Week Two. She sat on the potty but didn't pee, or peed on the potty but also in her pants. We tried to ask frequently if she wanted to go to the potty at home, too, with limited results.
On Tuesday of Week Two, her teacher advised me that sometimes the children hold in their poop during potty training because they are freaked out about pooping on the potty. And I noticed that P had not pooped since the weekend, so she seemed to fulfill the prophecy.
Tuesday night, I asked multiple times if she wanted to go potty, and every time the answer was no. Then I turned my back for a few minutes and was talking to my dad. When I looked up again, Penelope was standing in the office door.
She was naked from the waist down. Her legs were covered in poop. Her arms were covered in poop. Her face had streaks where it looked like she scratched her face, as well as chunks on her cheeks, under her nose, and in her hair. And in her hand she held a single turd, which she extended to me, saying, "Look! I poop, Mommy!"
You can't freak out in these situations. I gasped but masked my shock with lots of surprise and wonderment. "You're such a big girl!" I cried.
We went to the bathroom, where there was some poop in the potty and poop on her clothes. I gathered that she must have pooped in her pants, then tried to put the poop in the potty. Because, you know, that's where it goes.
The baby was really hairy, but it wasn't that soft, newborn hair. It was weird, course, gross hair, and it made him kind of ugly. But I didn't care. I loved him so much anyway. I celebrated by texting all my friends to say, "I had my beeb!"
At that point in the dream, I half woke up, rolled over in bed, and had to think for a few seconds and touch my belly before I realized I hadn't actually had the baby. Then I thought, in my half-awake state, "Damn, I texted all those people. I'd better text them back to say I didn't really have the baby."
Then I fell back to sleep and commenced to re-texting in my dream again. Then in the dream, I got up and started wandering around my house, and I happened upon the bassinet, which was set up in the dining room, and there was the baby! Crying! I thought, "Huh, I did have the baby!" So I picked him up and sat down to nurse him. And this time, he wasn't hairy and ugly but cute and perfect.
I'm not sure if I woke up then, but the night was restless with lots of brief awakenings and confused wanderings back into that dream (and others).
I don't remember having trouble sleeping during my last pregnancy, but I've had an annoying quantity of nights of fitful rest this time around. There is a lot going on, and a lot on my mind. I posted not too long ago about how we are asking a lot of Penelope recently by bombarding her with news of her coming baby brother, the arrival of her big girl bed, and the advancement of the weaning process. But if a lot is being asked of Penelope, then a lot is being asked of me as well: doubling the number of dependents in the household, thinking about having a baby who is a boy when I am used to having a child who is a girl, trying to get Penelope potty trained, worrying about maternity leave and work, worrying about money, etc, etc, etc. Sometimes I wake up with my mind racing, and usually I start to feel hungry, too (because at 3 or 4 am, it's been hours since I ate last!). Then I think of that line from Charlotte's Web: "Wilbur's stomach was empty, and his mind was full. And when your stomach is empty and your mind is full, it's hard to get to sleep." I remember being very, very young and asking my mother for some explanation of this line. Now, none is necessary!
But things are looking up. My mind is working through some of the puzzles, and I'm again feeling excited at the prospect of having a tiny little baby who is just newborn weight in my arms. Thinking about tiny little socks. Thinking about swaddles and slings. I bought an antique pram and am so stoked about that--hello, photo ops! I registered for gifts in anticipation of the shower my friend Blythe is throwing for me, and all the cute baby stuff made my heart swell.
Another heart-swelling moment: Penelope read her bedtime book to "the baby in the belly" the last two nights. I couldn't not grin stupidly as she recited the words of her book (My First Book of Sushi, one of her favorites, which she has mostly memorized), then placed the book in my lap and repeated the important words as she patted my belly. "Tofu in my bowl, baby!" This after she spent the first five months of this pregnancy opposed to the very idea of a baby. This morning, she even reminded me that she read to the baby in the belly.
With her friend Nora:
Finally, on the topic of potty training: Penelope was tapped at Baby School for potty training last month, a two-week process I have been anticipating for as long as we have gone to this day care. The evening we received the magical letter, I took Penelope to Target to buy a potty and some training panties. She was insanely excited and exclaimed to every stranger who looked at her, "That's my potty! That's my underpants!" Week One involved taking her to day care with underwear on over her diaper so she could get used to pulling pants up and down and sitting on the potty. Week Two was all underwear, no diaper, the idea being she would get wet, realize she didn't like it, and make the connection with using the potty. Predictably, this was not entirely successful at the start of Week Two. She sat on the potty but didn't pee, or peed on the potty but also in her pants. We tried to ask frequently if she wanted to go to the potty at home, too, with limited results.
On Tuesday of Week Two, her teacher advised me that sometimes the children hold in their poop during potty training because they are freaked out about pooping on the potty. And I noticed that P had not pooped since the weekend, so she seemed to fulfill the prophecy.
Tuesday night, I asked multiple times if she wanted to go potty, and every time the answer was no. Then I turned my back for a few minutes and was talking to my dad. When I looked up again, Penelope was standing in the office door.
She was naked from the waist down. Her legs were covered in poop. Her arms were covered in poop. Her face had streaks where it looked like she scratched her face, as well as chunks on her cheeks, under her nose, and in her hair. And in her hand she held a single turd, which she extended to me, saying, "Look! I poop, Mommy!"
You can't freak out in these situations. I gasped but masked my shock with lots of surprise and wonderment. "You're such a big girl!" I cried.
We went to the bathroom, where there was some poop in the potty and poop on her clothes. I gathered that she must have pooped in her pants, then tried to put the poop in the potty. Because, you know, that's where it goes.