Mommy’s Musings Archive

Time Flies When You’re Growing A Person: An Update

by Alison Friedman in Mommy's Musings, Pregnancy

It’s been a while since I’ve written, so here’s a little potpourri of updates from the last few weeks.

Happy to report that since this neurotic first-time mom’s frantic post about the breech baby, Internet turning vibes worked and we’ve got an obedient kid who went south for the summer! Baby Friedman is head down and while I so not appreciate the added pressure on my bladder, I really do appreciate the fact that our C-section odds are virtually slim to none.

The baby had another photoshoot at 35 weeks! The ultrasound studio promised us free return visits until we were all satisfied with Baby’s position and poses. Because of her breech position, we could never get a really good shot of her whole face without other body parts covering her up in typical acrobatic fashion. Third time really was a charm, and we got some awesome photos of her face, which, like her mama’s, is alllll cheek! We caught her mid-yawn which is also really cute. You know, because it’s a rough and tiring life being warm and cozy inside a uterus. We are already so proud of her and all she did was turn her body!

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I think I even felt her turn, which is so bizarre. My mom and I were having lunch with our mother-daughter friends, Michelle and Stefanie, who I’m so excited to be reconnected with after so many years! Stefanie has an adorable 3.5 month-old daughter, Brielle, and it’s been so fun to see her as a mommy and she’s been so helpful with all of her advice and perspective having just gone through this adventure. We were all sitting around catching up on the couch for a few hours, and when I stood up to leave, I felt a very different sensation in my tummy area. I suddenly felt super heavy below my belly button and even a little off-balance. Nothing bad; just different. We were crossing our fingers it meant that the baby had turned, but I had no idea it could happen so suddenly in one big sweep like that! Sure enough, the sonographer at the ultra sound studio confirmed that’s what it was the next day. And a week later, at my appointment with Dr. Fiiiiiine, she confirmed that the munchkin had swooped directions. Lots of cheering!

Dr. Fiiiiine also did a little check-a-roo and remarked that I have a soft cervix. Why thank you! I had no idea what this even meant, but she commented that it’s a good sign for a vaginal delivery. Alright, I’ll take it. High 5 to my body. She’s also monitoring some slight puffiness in my face to make sure there are no preeclampsia-type situations, but she doesn’t seem too concerned. Nothing like waiting on the butcher paper table for the doctor and the first thing she says when she walks in is, “You look a little puffy.” Hey, no hard feelings. We learned that the weekly appointments that lead up to the last four weeks of pregnancy are actually not to monitor for labor, but to check for this very attribute: puffiness. Who knew?! She did say it was super normal and as long as I’m not having any other weird symptoms (I’m not), then we should be all good. Right, but that still doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to be a hippopotamus at my high school reunion this coming weekend. Never thought that on graduation day in 2001, I’d be pregnant at my 10-year. Funny how timing works out.

In the past month, the nursery has been painted mostly decorated. The furniture arrived just before and the room is really coming along. I will definitely post pictures once all the finishing touches are up. Princeton has already discovered he likes to hang out under the crib. I wonder if he’ll still enjoy this lounge location even when there’s a crying baby above him! He has sniffed around the room and explored all the new smells and pieces. I often try to get in his brain and figure out if he has any idea what these changes mean. I hope he’s not having a “Lady and the Tramp” moment, when Lady starts to feel unimportant and worried when the baby preparation happens. I love our little Princeton too much, and I want him to feel included. He’s part of the family! Does anyone have experiences with the family dog and a new baby in the house?

  1. marilyn schilling
    7/13/2011 2:51 PM

    Can’t believe the ultrasound pictures. Things have sure come a long way. She sure has the chubby cheeks.

    Cousin Marilyn

  2. Mom/ Sharon/Mimi-to-be
    7/10/2011 9:58 PM

    Hearing about and seeing the changes you have gone through during these past almost 9 months have been very entertaining and exciting BUT I will never forget the look on your face when you stood up, grabbed your lower part of your belly and exclaimed how something “feels different!” And then you twisted from side to side and said, “I feel somethng sloshing around in my belly!” Then we all concluded that maybe Baby Girl Friedman turned. The look of realization on your face was priceless! xoxox

  3. Char
    7/10/2011 12:49 PM

    Love the pictures! The last one looks like she is singing….shocker! Glad to hear that she is ready for her grand entrance!

Turn Baby Turn

by Alison Friedman in Mommy's Musings, Pregnancy

Yesterday I had my 33-week appointment with Dr. Fiiiiine and if I had the cast of GLEE following me around to convey the soundtrack of my life a) Bryan would hide under a rock and pray for an avalanche and b) Mr. Shu’s kids would be singing the 1960s tune by The Byrds, “Turn Turn Turn” and Finn would have a solo because I think it’s funny that he looks constipated when he sings.

Why “Turn Turn Turn?”
BECAUSE THIS BABY NEEDS TO TURN OR WE ARE GOING TO HAVE ONE FREAKED OUT MAMA.

Okay, so we have time. A little bit of time, but time, nonetheless. Dr. Fiiiiine said she’s not going the C-section route just yet and this baby could decide to nose dive in the next three weeks, leaving us in good shape. Baby is doing some crazy ass Cirque Du Soleil shiz and is currently in the Frank breech position, which means her tushie is down and her feet are up by her ears, making a V. Our daughter has a future in yoga, apparently.

I asked Dr. Fiiiiine if when we reach 36 weeks and baby is still Frank, which, would frankly suck, does she subscribe to the turning method whereby she, or the perinatologist, literally turn the baby from the outside through some hard-core massage and other probably-unpleasant-but-worth-it techniques. Normally yes, she said, but it looks like I’ve been harvesting an anterior placenta and baby-turning is much less risky with a non-anterior placenta.

Record scratch.

Say what?!

So not only is this kid being difficult in her freaky position, but on top of that, I have an anterior placenta which pretty much guarantees a hell-to-the-no in regards to any doctor attempting to turn the baby due to probable rupture and separation of the placenta during such efforts. I get it. That would majorly suck. Look, I’m all for keeping things in tact for the sake of everyone’s health, but I’m still not liking the cards I’ve been dealt and would not take myself to Vegas right now.

We left with the plan that if by 36 weeks, baby has not moved, we book a surgery for 39 weeks. And if in that time between 36 and 39 she does move, great. And if not, I go under the knife. Dun dun dun.

So here’s the part where Alison cries. A lot. The thing is, I really don’t want a C-section. I know plenty of people who’ve had them and say it’s fine. But for some reason, I don’t want to miss out on this overly-hyped female experience of having a natural-but-with-drugs labor and delivery. Apparently, my radical hormones have made it so that I desperately want hours of pain, a needle in my back, numbness in my legs, likely damage from — as my friend calls it — the hoo-ha to the brown-eye, swear words, screaming, poop on the table, bleeding, ice packs, and that super sexy hospital underwear to keep it all tucked in. Yes, I crave all that instead of having an appointment and popping out a perfect kid in under 10 minutes. What is WRONG with me?!

Dr. Fiiiiine also informed me — after I sheepishly asked — that she’s not a VBAC-er, so that means that for any future kiddos, they also come out via surgery. So I quickly calculate that that means I’ll never know what it’s like to deliver a watermelon the old fashioned way (for which most normal people would say “lucky you!” but because of my insanity, I mope).

What can I say? I just always imagined a delivery like the ones in the movies: I am reading in bed, and Bryan is watching TV (or probably, more likely, he is playing Angry Birds on his iPhone while listening to something on Food Network), and suddenly my water breaks, we look at each other and laugh — ha, ha, ha, ha! — and we time contractions and then go to the hospital where he feeds me ice chips and holds my hand and tells me I’m still sexy despite the sweat mustache and perfectly messed-up ponytail and then the doctor comes in and I push three times and out comes a perfect baby and you never see the afterbirth or hear about the episiotomy and, oh yeah, my makeup isn’t smeared and there’s no double chin in our first family photo. That’s how it’s done in the movies.

Hollywood is on crack.

So whether it’s the real-life version or the Hollywood version, I’m still delusional enough to want a vajayjay delivery (in real life, by the way, I have no problem saying “vaginal” but I fear mockery from readers if I type it. I have some strange neuroses I need to get over). So here’s the deal: I’m going to choose to now believe in the power of Internet vibes and ask you to send all good turning energy to this baby. She’s strong and she’s stubborn, but I’d like to think if we all will her to aim her keppie to my crotch, she will obey. Otherwise, she is SO grounded and will have a 7:00 curfew on Saturday nights and not be allowed to have a CD player in her first car (oh wait, that was me).

The Joy of Cooking… A Baby

by Alison Friedman in Mommy's Musings, Pregnancy

I was making dinner tonight for some macho men as a payment for their furniture-moving assistance. (Thank you Brian and Michael for your brains and brawn). I’ve never really been much of a Martha or Julia in the kitchen and have thought of myself more of the Swedish Chef, throwing equipment around, speaking to myself in foreign, frustrated tongues, and blindly tossing my unmeasured ingredients awkwardly with confidence that it’ll be just good enough.

So, it was no surprise when I found myself hobbling around the kitchen preparing some of my own version of BORK BORK BORK when I realized, “I am even more helpless than usual!” As usual, blame goes to Baby.

Cooking a baby has its joys: the flutter of tappy kicks and life inside me; the thick and lustrous locks of hair; the femininity that grows with every inch of my belly; the ability to wear horizontal stripes; the smiles and pleasant conversations with strangers; the dreams for the future. Yes, all of these things are wonderful and I gladly bask in this glow.

So as I whipped up dinner for the boys, I glanced over at my recipe books in the kitchen and spotted the canon of the kitchen, The Joy of Cooking. I snorted to myself, “Ha! There is no joy right now. The joy of cooking what? … a baby? I’m just a vessel of cliches and myths-come-true!”

These cliches are the reason for my newly discovered discomfort. First and foremost, I really do literally hobble now. After 5:00 p.m., my feet, which now resemble Fred Flintstone’s, become stiff and swollen, beginning with an attractive cankle that branches out to a tree-stump like block with sausagey appendages. Foot model, I am not. Well, I never had a chance anyway, but pregnancy does not look good on my tootsies.

Because this is a personal blog, I am about to get, well, personal. I have never been a pee-er. This is probably because I am not much of a drinker (I know, bad Alison, bad!), but I can’t help it! I’m never thirsty. So imagine my surprise when I feel the urge to pee 82789374913408 times a day. However, not one of these 82789374913408 times are ever satisfying. With a rush of “ohmygoshmoveoutofmywaybecausei’mgoingtoburst!” I run to the nearest ladies room, prepare for Niagara Falls, and instead, experience a flow like a cold pipe that’s frosting from condensation in a dark and lonely basement. Drip. Drop. Drip. All done. A whole lot of bladder build-up for nothing! Literally! Thanks, Baby. Hope you’re comfy and cozy, leaning on my pee sac!

Then there’s the grunting. This is not that dissimilar from the noises the Swedish Chef releases in the kitchen. Getting up from a chair? Grunt. Rolling out of bed? Grunt. Picking up an object off the floor? Grunt. Attempting to put on pants? A grunt for each leg. I am 872 years old. At this rate, I feel more like my fetus’s great, great grandmother than mother. And that doesn’t feel so great. Or grand. This is probably due to all of my back pain and lack of core strength. I am determined to get back into shape after the baby.

I should probably rephrase that sentence as “get back into shape” implies I was actually in shape prior to the baby. That would be a lie. So fine, I plan to get into shape. Although, I suppose I’m currently in shape — a round one — but feeling ancient at 28 is not my idea of being a hot mom.

All in all, I have had a very boring and uneventful pregnancy, which is just how the doctors like them. I’m extremely pleased with that, but I’m also just now finally experiencing the “joy” of cooking a baby, which means I’m right on track and par for the course. And even though I feel like the Swedish Chef in the pregnancy kitchen, I also know that “it’s a good thing” and I’m a Martha after all.

Birthday vs. Birth Day

by Alison Friedman in Mommy's Musings, Pregnancy

Today was my birthday. I turned 28 — hooray for an even number! As I write this, I feel like it’s the end of a Doogie Howser episode where I reflect on the day’s events and the lesson I learned. It’s actually just like that, except I’m not using DOS on a mammoth 1989 IBM computer to journal (omg Bryan just fell in love with me all over again) and Max Casella (Vinnie) is nowhere in sight. Oh, and I’m not a boy genius. Girl genius, however…

But still, I am having a Doogie moment so I’m just going to run with it.

As a kid (or up until my mid-20s), my birthday was the best day of the year. But then again, what young thing doesn’t like his or her birthday? It’s a time of nothing-can-go-wrong and everybody-loves-me. Today was similar once I remembered it actually was my birthday. The Facebook posts and messages that came in were endless and thoughtful, and calls from friends and family were so appreciated. Bryan took me out to a lovely dinner at my favorite restaurant where I enjoyed my perfect Ruth’s Chris steak and gave me a pair of mother-of-pearl earrings. Really, it was a wonderful day!

But it all felt different. And I realized it’s because I’m about to be a mom and I’m looking forward to a new kind of birthday — my daughter’s birthday. My birth day. While this was my last June 7th as a non-mom, I am excited to celebrate getting a year older with spit-up on my shirt and a diaper to change before blowing out candles. But more importantly, I am excited (and scared!) for the birth day sometime in August when our daughter enters the world. I’m anxious about the when, where, and how of it all and wish I could have a little glimpse of what to expect. But even with the childbirth classes we’re taking, the books I’m reading, and the mom-friends I’m talking to, I have a feeling there’s no way to really know since each experience is so unique. If you know me at all, you know this is killing me softly (controlfreakAHEMcontrolfreak). There is a part of me, though, that is welcoming the surprise of it all.

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Two weeks ago, we took a tour of the labor and delivery floor at the hospital. It was nice to be able to have some imagery to go along with the expectations. First, a nurse spoke for about 45 minutes and gave a play-by-play of how it all happens on the big day. Blame the hormones, but I choked up like 897892734987 times. I also apparently wore a look of OMG ARE YOU $%&!*@# KIDDING ME on my face when the nurse detailed some other events of the experience. So yes, excited and scared are definitely appropriate descriptions of my feelings!

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After her Vin Scully approach to the sport of labor and delivery, we walked the halls of the actual floor and saw a delivery room like the one in which our daughter will enter. It was a lovely and cozy room with all the necessary equipment, providing a likable-enough vibe where our baby will take her first breaths.

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We saw the nursery where the doctor and nurses will take the baby for her first bath and other minor tests. Daddy will get to go in there and watch. He’s already been instructed to soak everything up so he can return with details of what he experienced in there!

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I know the birth day will be a whirlwind of emotions, events, and well wishes, and on this personal birthday, I can’t help but think about all the fun that lies ahead. I’m grateful to have had such a lovely day with some of my favorite people, eating my favorite things, and enjoying my favorite activity (shopping!), but I know that the day our daughter is born will be the best birth day ever.

Especially if Doogie Howser does his rounds in my room!

  1. katrina
    6/9/2011 12:24 PM

    Iam the child,
    all the world waits for my coming,
    all the earth watches with interest,
    to see what i shall become.
    Civilization hangs in the balance,
    For what I am,
    the world of tomorrow will be.
    I am the child,
    I have come into your world,
    About which I know nothing,
    Why I came I know not,
    How I came I know not,
    I am curious,
    I am interested.
    I am the child,
    You hold in your hand my destiny,
    You determine, largely, whether
    I shall succeed or fail.
    Give me, I pray you,
    Those things that make for happiness.
    Train me I beg you,
    Those things that m,ake for happiness.
    Train me, I beg you,
    That I may be a bessing to the world.
    Author Unknown

  2. nicole
    6/8/2011 11:36 AM

    loved this and you both!

  3. Mom/ Sharon/Mimi-to-be
    6/8/2011 11:01 AM

    I’m glad you had a lovely 28th birthday and enjoyed your favorite things. And many many more fun birthdays for you will continue, but to look forward to your daughter’s birthdays—planning parties, buying her presents, seeing her grow up each year & her reactions—are just priceless and overwhelmingly emotional. Fun times ahead. I can’t wait to see what kind of birthday party themes will be captured in her party photos. Sesame Street, the Little Mermaid, crafts, bowling??? Just make sure I’m there!!

  4. katrina
    6/8/2011 9:03 AM

    Hope you have a wonderful birthday. The hospital is hard to take in when doing the tour. I think the worst is when you are in labor and you think was it to the left or right at this corner lol.You guys will do great. Dont worry you are great parents i belive you are a parent the minute you concive because you have to do so much to take care of the baby. My hospital advice is get someone to bring you food hospital food is just nasty you pushed a baby out of you only get the best. lol

Color Me Confused!

by Alison Friedman in Baby Land, Mommy's Musings

I’ve always loved interior design. I could watch home makeover shows or sift through decor magazines for hours. When I’m rich, I will spend money on dog rescue organizations, breast cancer philanthropies, and buy a few different homes to decorate. Hey, at least I listed the charitable work first!!

I’ve narrowed down the colors based on the crib bedding I picked out at Pottery Barn Baby. Looks like we’re going with a pink and green theme with splashes of creamy yellow. My decor taste tends to be feminine but not baby-ish (I know, I know, we’re having a baby, but no duckies or teddy bears for me). I like a more vintage and girly style so the odds and ends that fill up the room will probably be in that category.

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Anyway, I’ve been daydreaming about decorating the baby’s nursery since we found out about the pregnancy. And now that it’s finally happening, I’m frozen in my tracks.

We can’t do much until we paint first. I had an idea in my head that we would paint the walls a light, butter yellow and toss in an accent color on the crib’s wall and paint it light pink. Easy enough, right?

So imagine my panic attack when I walked into the Lowes paint department and hyperventilated over the zillions of swatches that lined the walls. Choosing few handfuls of paint samples was like choosing which baby to save in a fire: the furry one or the human one. Painful! But, somehow, with my husband’s help and the opinion of the tattooed paint dude who was probably so over me, I walked out with 2 kinds of yellows and 4 kinds of pinks.

On Sunday, I braved the intimidation of painting the walls with the sample colors to see how they look in real life.

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Verdict? I still dont know!! I kind of like them all in different ways. And it’s hard not to judge them based on their names. The first one that’s darker is called Pink Ruffle! I’m obsessed with both those words!! Pink is my favorite color and ruffle is how all my clothes should be adorned. And then there’s one called Baby Blush. I mean, isn’t that just too apropos?? How do I not read into the names and look at only the colors? It’s like going to the nail salon; I dare you to pick up an O.P.I. polish color and NOT read the punny name on the bottom of the bottle. Double dare you!

And Bryan and Princeton were of no help as I strategized the sample-paint job. They relaxed and made fun of me for agonizing over each hue.

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No, no, I kid. Bryan was very helpful and gave his two cents for what worked and what didn’t. Princeton looked at me like, “What are you crazy? I’m colorblind, crazy, hormonal lady!”

For three of the walls, I think we’re going with Creamy Oat (again, reading into the name, but oats are gluten-free, so this is a healthy shade for a paint, right?), and the accent wall will be either Tea Rose or Baby Blush. I keep stressing about making the right choice and if it will look okay on such wide and high walls and if the bedding will match or will it be too matchy-matchy and will it go against the resale value of the house when we want to sell one day and then I start breathing heavily and breaking out into a sweat and wishing my unborn daughter could send me a sign about her color preference since, after all, it is her room…

…and then Bryan reminds me it’s just paint and it’s not permanent and we can always paint over it. True, yes, but then he’d probably want to kill me.

So, I think we’ll just go for it because apparently, when it comes to motherhood, that’s the name of the game.

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  1. katrina
    6/6/2011 9:18 AM

    I spend so much time reading your blogs they are so funny. Did you look into those fumeless paints non toxic. They come out a little lighter then the it looks like in the can but makes it so you dont have to air out the room so much to get rid of that smell. Also there is great organic mattress.They say to take off the plastic off the mattress and air it out beofre baby comes home. Anyways i know the room is going to look great or already does

  2. George
    5/25/2011 10:06 AM

    I understand your panic when walking down the isles with all the paint swatches, but I love it. My two cents is to go with something with more contrast between the yellow and the pink. Since they both have a lot of white in them it could tend to get a bit Eastery. I would have loved to been watching you guys go thru this process, I’m sure it was quite entertaining

  3. Katy
    5/24/2011 10:42 PM

    Yours is my favorite blog in all the land of Blogville. Love it.

  4. Sharri
    5/24/2011 9:22 PM

    I like how it is in the last picture:) can’t decide? Go with all of them! Haha. Love reading your blog! Soo true about OPI colors!

  5. 5/24/2011 7:52 PM

    You are adorable with this whole thing. I am married to a house painter. I would paint the room a shade of a lovely green (you said you were worried about resale) Keep all the bedding, frames, throw rug in the shades of pink.
    Not that you really care what your florist has to say, but I just thought that I would give you my two cents.
    I am soooooooo excited for you.
    Hugs,
    Lei-Ann