"How's Your Third Baby?" "What Third Baby?"

Today I found myself in the most awkward of situations due to a comment not meant to harm yet it just scorched me.  There I was 6 months post-partum (6 months after having baby for those not fluent in Latin) and back at work.  I decided to dress up a little today in a nice pair of semi-dressy slacks and a peasant-like top that was certain to hide a multitude of left-over baby flab still lingering.  Let's face it that some of you still protrudes where it used to not protrude after having a hefty 9 pound baby who is now in the billionth weight percentile.

One of my co-workers, a rather considerate and respectful individual for the most part, asked me about the baby.  I get that a lot and I love talking about my 2 boys and the raspberries they learned to blow this week and their fascinations with the bathtub draining and more.  Mostly I get asked if they are keeping me busy and other good-natured questions.  This man's comments about my expectant child soon made me aware that he thought I was currently pregnant.  The other women in the room soon realized he was asking me all about the new baby in my belly and they wasted no time in yelling at him "No, you DIDN'T!!" until he fumbled for more words and dug deeper and deeper into the pit with comments like "well you look like you are pregnant cause you're wearing maternity clothes and all."  Fighting back tears as I looked at my non-maternity Daisy Fuentes shirt I responded with a rather weak "This is what fits me now."  I slinked back and the man continued to turn candy apple red after realizing his faux pas of the year.  Yeah, guys, do yourself a favor and NEVER assume a woman is with child unless you physically see a foot protruding from within her belly.

 

I had gained 65 pounds with Baby #2 mainly due to rootbeer floats and the sheer size of my Michelin Baby but I was proud to have lost 45 lbs of it already!  Yes I see that I still have 20 extra unwanted pounds hanging around in less than ideal spaces, but in my defense, 9 months up, 9 months down.  In basic math, I got 3 left, Brainchild!

And I don't want to act like I am striving to regain the Supermodel stature I never had in the first place.  I am not back to my original size 8 but Mommyhood does that to us.  We let go of some dreams to pursue others as our priorities change... not necesarily letting go of ourselves but realizing it may be more important to take a slow walk around the 'hood holding the hand of my two-year old as he dramatically points out every squirrel and bird and we stroll the baby along rather than hitting the gym for high-impact aerobic toning.  When you have a toddler and a baby everything takes more time and so will getting back into any semblance of our former shape.

 

I also don't want to go on a male-bashing session with "burn the machisimo idiotas who spew insensitivities to vulnerable chicas."  I personally have nothing against the man who assumed I was pregnant and accused me of it in front of my stunned co-workers.  But let this serve as a sort of PSA to those who may not think before they ask a possible stinging question.  If you haven't viewed the ultrasound or seen a mother-to-be receive a pair of pastel crocheted booties, then zip it.  If you're not 110% sure there's a baby cooking in that Mama, refrain from pregnancy comments. 

 

 

The Final Countdown

If you are a child of the 80s, or even alive in the 80s, you may sing "Do-do-do-do.  Do-do-doot-doot-do" anytime you hear the words "Final Countdown" mentioned.  (Youtube the video by "Europe" if you want a trip down memory lane.  Do-do-doot-doot-do.)   Well, we are in the final countdown of having only one child in our lives and I, for one, am extremely happy to cling to the promise that soon, this next little one will be on the outside of my body.  And for those of you reading my blog and Facebook updates I am sure it thrills you to no longer see side shots of this amazingly non-shrinking woman along with reading all the verbal vomit of complaints I have had as I chartered this ship through some rough waters.  I know it won't be all peachy keen on the other side, but I am sooooo looking forward to getting to this next stage.

Why, yes, those are toy hammers Tristan is using to beat on his baby brother in utero.

I know I have forgotten the sleepless nights and all those zombie zone feelings that accompany the first month of having a newborn.  I recall everyone giving the advice of "Sleep when the baby sleeps" but I took it to the next emotional level- I cried when the baby cried!  I would be taking a nap and hear him stir and ready for yet another feeding and I would just start weeping along with him- I just didn't have the strength or the energy to get through.  And all this was with a good tempered baby who slept for 12 hours a night starting at 2 weeks and adapted wonderfully to Babywise Sleep Training.  He had no cholic, no major issues outside of a little tongue-tie, and was such a sweet little guy.  I really couldn't even blame him for a 36 hour labor ordeal after he emerged as such a cutie-pie.  What if this next one hangs from chandeliers and bad-mouths me as a Mr. Sassypants?  What if he has every health problem in the book and I just am not mother enough to handle it all?  What if he is as spastic as his Chuckie Norris movements already make him seem?  What do I do then?  Trading babies is slightly frowned upon in this society, so I believe you are pretty much stuck with what you birth.  What if I get an absolute monster this time?

Tristan riding on Daddy's shoulders.  Both boys will be so blessed!

Tristan and I took the entire weekend to read a plethora of books, play with his penguin collection, swing at the playground, and chat about life so I hope he knows just how much Mummy loves him.  We have a very limited time with just the two of us that I seriously want to make it count.  Same with my husband and I as we're going to miss drinking rootbeer floats and playing "Sequence" and "Rack-o" after Tristan goes to bed.  (I know what you're thinking- what wild and crazy nights we have in the Wells household!)  Everything will be changing again.  For example, I know when I get home from the hospital, Baby #1 is going to look gargantuan next to new baby and I hope we are all ready for that.  And I am sure there will be things we'll be missing out on for a little bit, but we'll get to rejoin society eventually.  And I won't be able to take him trick-or-treating this year even though he has the coolest Obi-Wan-Kenobi Jedi outfit, and I already feel guilty for having the baby due this week and not being able to participate in taking him to a couple houses for candy he can't even eat during a holiday we probably shouldn't even be celebrating!  How's that for ironic and a run-on sentence?  Perhaps Grammie can take him around in my place or we can just play dress-up at home with some light saber swords.

Jedi-in-training with Master Yoda.  Pretty cool, eh?

So here I am signing off on my blog for a bit... asking for prayers for a safe delivery and a healthy little boy to greet us very shortly.  I am sure we will harass you with cutesy little tiny wrinkly baby pictures in the not-so-distant future, but until then I'll be working overtime in the Mommy-department.  Trusting in the God who makes all things possible even when things don't seem at all within reach.  He is able.

Robyn at 39 weeks... can't say the time has flown but am glad to be this far along!

 

 

 

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