Eight is Enough
I have eight (8) more weeks to go and Mr. Miles is running out of room. I can feel it in my ribs, literally. His faint kicks have turned into mean jabs and he’s starting to kick so hard my stomach is jumping and we can see his little movements with every shift of my belly. How did my doctor put it? Oh, yeah . . . “He’s BIG”
That’s okay though . . . I was 8lbs 8 ounces, my mother’s largest baby. The thing is, I don’t want Miles to be that big, because in reality, how is he going to come out? Did I just say that? Yes, I did. I keep having endless conversations about delivery and people keep asking whether or not I’ll have an epidural. Which opens up to the discussion of which option is best. The feedback is mixed of course. I hear positives from both sides and I still have no idea what I am going to do and no one can persuade me that either is best at this point. I just have to feel my way through this. Until the pain hits, I have no idea of what I can and can not take, so I choose to focus on the preparation. The things I can control, the small stuff, like his room, his childcare, his 529 college fund . . . and I will leave the rest in the hands of the almighty (like Bob Marley).
Two weeks ago, we went out to Hermann Park to have our maternity photos taken. I thought Myesha did a fantastic job. We went from the Zoo all the way to the reflecting pool and came up with some really interesting shots. These are some of the different photos that were taken. Feel free to imitate, because I sure did.
Washing and folding . . . folding and washing. I feel like that’s all I do during the weekends. I’m constantly organizing and I’m enjoying every minute of it. Honestly, I’ve always had an affinity for organizing. To see a closet organized gives me so much satisfaction, you’d think I hit the lottery or got a promotion. Strange, but true. Those of you reading this who have children are probably thinking, “boy is she going to get a wake-up call when she has this baby. She will be so consumed with baby Miles that she won’t get enough sleep, let alone have enough time to keep the house ‘organized’.” Sad to say, I am learning to accept that reality and thank God everyday that I won’t have to raise this child alone.
Late night feedings with daddy will be great. I have a partner who’s willing to take the lead when necessary and that is such a blessing. He always tells me, if you do your part, then I will do the rest. Meaning, I’ll have to pump and dump. When baby wakes at night and needs to feed, he most certainly can’t give him what he doesn’t have. James has been gung-ho about everything baby. He’s attended every one of my appointments and has assembled cribs and now he’s working on the car seat. If you know my husband, you know the lengths he’s going to make sure his child is safe. He’s even gone as far as reviewing the car manual, deciphering the purpose of each backseat seat belt. Tomorrow we have car seat class. It’s a free session being offered by Toys R Us. It should be very informative and I’m sure we will learn something that we did not know. We always do.
Miles is quickly outgrowing his happy little home. My Facebook post describes it all. Baby boy is really trying to see how far he can stretch his legs. He has nicked my ribs and he’s aiming for my clavicle. His little kicks are more like Tyson jabs. They can sometimes be very uncomfortable and lately I’ve been talking to him about how his movements are making mommy uneasy and if he’d just shift mommy would be more comfortable, then I massage his little joints into another position. There is relief for a few minutes and then he’s right back where he started. I can’t help but laugh, because as his daddy always says . . . it’s really all about him.
*Photos courtesy of Myesha Callahan