Caleb at 5 weeks

A quiet but hiccup-ing Caleb in the bath...

Three Weeks with Three Boys...

It's hard to believe, but Caleb is three weeks old already!

I thought I'd write an update about how we're adjusting to life as a party of five.  So far, it's been great.  I'm almost afraid to type those words because I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Yes, I'm covered in a combination of spit up, breastmilk, and baby poop for most of the day.  I have a toddler who decided that the week before his little brother was born was a great time to potty train himself (still working on that!), and my four year old thinks he knows everything all of a sudden.  However, all of that is eclipsed by the happiness I've felt for the last few weeks.  Maybe it's the oxytocin high I get from breastfeeding every two hours or the fact that I'm ingesting caffeine for the first time in nine months.  Maybe it's baby mania that will subside when the exhaustion sinks in a few weeks from now.  Maybe it's just sheer denial; but so far, I have no complaints about our life with three boys.  Instead, I feel incredibly blessed and blissed-out for most of my days. 

People keep coming up to me and saying things like, "You deserve a special prize for mothering three boys" or "I don't know how you do it."  To be honest, adjusting to life with three kids has been a breeze - SO much easier than our other transitions.  Check back with me in a few months and I may no longer agree; but, for now, it's been easy.  I wish I could take the knowledge and experience I have now and go back in time to when I had just one baby.  If I could somehow go back and re-live those first days as a parent without the stress and anxiety it would have been such an enjoyable experience.  Because, to be honest, joy was absent a lot in my early parenting days.  Instead, I had a lot of anxiety about what to do with a baby all day and night - making sure he was on a schedule, making sure I was doing everything I was "supposed" to be doing, etc.  I have a lot more keeping me busy these days, but it seems much more manageable and I'm definitely happier.

Here's what I think is different:

First, I am keeping my expectations low.  I have no hope of sleeping through the night or looking great for the next few months.  I think that this is a mental outlook that really helps me.  When our first son was born, I was super concerned with getting him to sleep all night so I could have my sleep, too!  It was a really frustrating first few months because I was so darned tired all the time, hoping every night would be the night he would decide to sleep until morning. For now, five hours of broken sleep is a good night and enough to get me through the next day.  And I know I'm going to have a little post-baby pooch until I get back into my regular exercise routine and work it off.  I accept the fact that getting ready to leave the house might take two hours with potty trips, diaper changes, etc., and I plan accordingly.  If my kids end up watching TV for an entire morning, I don't beat myself up over it.  I am keeping my cool and my sanity by buying myself time for a shower or an extra nursing session.  Keeping expectations low also keeps my stress level low.

I am also embracing the fact that I'm a veteran parent now, and with experience comes confidence.  I'm already in "mom mode."  I trust my abilities as a parent and my baby's abilities to stay alive.  This sounds a little crazy, but like a lot of first-time parents, I was very concerned that our first son wasn't eating enough, pooping enough, or remembering how to breathe if he was out of my sight for a few minutes.  I'd have to check on him A LOT when he was in his crib, and I'd panic if I couldn't hear him moving around while facing backwards in the car.  I now trust that we both know what we're doing.  I remind myself of this fact with little pep talks in my head (I already mentioned that I know it's crazy, right?).  I can nurse one-handed.  I can take three kids to Target and not have a panic attack.  I can change diaper explosions and calm a gassy baby.  It's okay if the baby cries for a few minutes while I'm dealing with a toddler's meltdown.  It's okay to trust my four year old to brush his own teeth without me checking once in awhile. I can really handle anything thrown my way, because I've been doing this mothering thing for a long time now! 

Finally, I know that this is my last chance to savor the sweetness of a newborn baby in our house.  With our first son, I was constantly looking ahead to the next milestone so things would be easier.  With Caleb, I'm trying to appreciate and enjoy the present.  I wish I could keep him this little forever!  I know how fleeting this time is, so I'm trying to soak up every moment.  I want to remember every detail of these days that someday will be a distant memory, so why waste time being anxious or worrying that I'm doing everything right?  I'd rather enjoy these days with my little boys while they're all still little.

Best Surprise Ever!

Disclaimer: This post contains raw video of me "ugly crying."

I'm emotionally recovering this week from a surprise that could have shocked me into early labor.  Apparently the whole world was in on this conspiracy, while I was completely clueless to the whole thing!

We had an ordinary Saturday planned this last weekend.  I was going to yoga, then in the afternoon we were taking the boys to a birthday party and I was hoping to get a few meals made to stick in the freezer.  That all changed when I opened the door to leave for yoga.  There, sitting on my porch, were my two sisters and my mom.  WTF?!?!?!

As you can see, I was in complete shock, totally confused, and overcome with emotion.  This was the best surprise ever!  The plan was hatched months ago, while Jesse was on deployment this summer.  They would all converge in San Diego so that we could spend a girls' weekend together before Juicy's arrival.  They communicated with Jesse via his work email to coordinate the whole thing.  Of course Jesse, aka "The Vault," would never give a secret of that caliber away, but how in the world did I not catch wind of it somewhere along the way?!

My sisters double as my best friends, and of course our mom is the foundation for the strong closeness among us.  It's hard to describe how much they mean to me.  The fact that all three sisters are pregnant at the same time is totally crazy and surreal, and I was sad before this weekend when I thought about the fact that we wouldn't get to all bump bellies while we were pregnant together.  But I would now get to spend the weekend with them, relishing in not just sister time but pregnant sister time, something even more special and crazy.  I was so excited after drying my tears and pinching myself that they were really there on my porch - what a gift!!

But wait, there's more!  After nearly giving me a heart attack and certainly making me pee myself, they filled me in on the plan for the day.  We were all going to yoga together, then I was spending the day and night away at a hotel in Coronado.  We spent the day at the hotel spa.  I had a prenatal massage and a pedicure, and then I got to enjoy a kid-free dinner at a ritzy Italian restaurant right on the water looking across the bay at downtown San Diego.  It was a glorious day, one I'll remember and cherish forever.  

But wait, there's even more!  On Sunday, after checking out of the hotel, we came back to our house.  Tia Jess, Tia Sarah, and Grammy surprised the boys with their visit.  Jesse and I got to go out to lunch while the three ladies took Sammy and Gabriel to a carnival down the street.  Could the weekend have been anymore perfect???

I tear up still just thinking about how much effort and time and energy went into planning this weekend.  In yoga that morning, the instructor asked us to find a focus for our practice that morning.  The only word that came to mind was "blessed."   It really sums my life up in a nutshell.  I'm so grateful to have a family that loves me enough to do something so special for me.  My parents paid for the whole weekend, and my mom and Jessica (who's still in the pukey phase of pregnancy) took time off from their busy lives and flew all the way from Florida and back again in about 48 hours.  Sarah, also sick with morning sickness, drove four hours each way from Ridgecrest to help make this all happen.  I'm especially thankful for Jesse, my great sport of a husband who was a willing participant in this scheme, for taking our rambunctious boys for the weekend all by himself and also for understanding how wonderful this time with my mom and sisters would be for me.  

I kept asking all weekend what I could do to repay my family for planning such an amazing, wonderful surprise.  They kept telling me to have a baby already, so I guess that's what I have to do next!

I Can't Wait to Lactate!

Nursing Sammy after his birth

With just a little over four weeks until baby #3, aka Juicy Ghost, aka Caleb, is due to make his arrival, I've been thinking a lot about what life is like with a newborn.  Exhaustion and chaos abound, of course, but there are so many wonderful, sweet things to savor with a tiny baby.  I wish I could bottle up the newborn-ness (this is how I refer to all things related to a newborn), and it is such a fleeting time in the life of a baby.  I love the way newborns are still folded up like they are in the womb, how their hair is so silky soft, and how they suckle in their sleep.  It's all so cute!   But to me, the best part about the newborn-ness, is breastfeeding.  I cannot wait to nurse this tiny baby.

Okay, before you other mamas out there throw stones at me, de-friend me from Facebook, and stop reading this post, please note that I am not completely crazy.  Nobody likes the engorgement that make your breasts into rock-hard porn star boobs, and the nipple pain in those first couple of weeks is excruciating.  I've suffered through months of thrush, blocked ducts, and even mastitis.  My poor breasts are not nearly as perky as they once were (okay, that's a huge understatement.  They're pretty deflated and pathetic after two years of nursing babies).  But the amazing parts of breastfeeding make it worth the sacrifices to me.  There are countless benefits to nursing for the baby and mom, but it's not as easy as it looks to get started (check out PregTASTIC's breastfeeding series, episodes 12-15 and 149-151 for all things nursing-related).  I know that a lot of moms either cannot or choose not to breastfeed, and my intent is not to alienate any of these women.  Instead, I want to share how much I've personally grown to love nursing.

I wasn't always such a breastfeeding proponent.  The first time I had a newborn, Sammy, I didn't appreciate the beauty of breastfeeding at all.  In fact, before I had him, I knew "breast was best," but I thought the whole process was downright weird.  When he was born, I had no idea what I was doing and neither did the baby.  Thankfully, my husband went to the breastfeeding class with me while I was pregnant, and he actually latched Sammy onto the breast for me for the first week of his life!  Without my husband's support, I would have quit in the first week.  The first day he went back to work, I distinctly remember being terrified that the baby wouldn't be able to eat all day because I couldn't latch him on right, even though I had an enormous milk supply.  My nipples felt like they were on fire every time he nursed, so I was too busy crying my eyes out to notice how he looked right up at me as he suckled or that he fit perfectly in my arms.  I was consulting baby books and hospital discharge instructions constantly to make sure he was nursing at the right times, burping enough, pooping enough, etc.  After two long weeks, things fell into place, and we both enjoyed a full year of nursing.  It wasn't until after the difficult start that I could appreciate how wonderful breastfeeding could be.

Nursing was much easier with our second son, Gabriel, although it was still painful in the beginning.  Instead of crying through all of my son's first feedings, I focused on him, and it got better much more quickly.  We found our groove in the first few days, instead of the weeks it took with Sammy.  I attribute our quick success to me being more knowledgeable and less anxious about the whole process.  I wasn't worried if he was getting enough milk or concerned with putting him on a schedule, I was just trying to be present each time we nursed.  

I tried to sit and put my feet up for each feeding, but that wasn't always possible with a two year old running around.  I became a one-armed nursing wonder.  I could nurse with the baby in one arm and accomplish almost everything else with the other from cooking dinner, to playing with building blocks, to helping my other son onto or off of the toilet.  No matter what else I was doing, even when all hell was breaking loose in our transitioning household, I tried to enjoy nursing.  I tried be cognizant of the oxytocin high calming me down and filling my heart with love with each let-down I experienced.  It's cheesy, but it worked.

I was aware the second time around that before I knew it, I wouldn't be the most interesting thing in the universe to this tiny creature.  He would soon be curious about the larger world around him, and he'd want to check it out and explore instead of gazing into my eyes.  I knew that his soft, downy black hair was going to fall out, that his two tiny feet would no longer be able to fit in one of my hands as I fed him.  I watched him grow and took pride in the fact that I was 100% responsible for that phenomenon.  I didn't even mind the late night feedings, because I knew then that I was guaranteed to have at least a few quiet minutes with just him.  Like Sammy, Gabriel and I enjoyed a full year of nursing.

I know all babies are different, so nursing this baby might not be as easy as you would think it'd be the third time around.  I also have two kids to chase after now, whose favorite past times are anything that includes wrestling,  yelling, and general mischief.  I know that once we find our stride, however, it'll be great.  I hope I can savor those moments of quiet and appreciate the newborn-ness of baby #3, especially since this will be the last time I get to experience the beauty of nursing.  

39 days and counting...

Let the nesting begin. With just over 5 weeks until my due date, I'm starting to get anxious that I haven't done enough to get ready for this baby. The car seat and swing are still packed away, and we don't have the nursery ready to go. Jesse is pretty chill and keeps reminding me that Juicy Ghost isn't going to need much when he first gets home anyway. 
Still, I've been feeling antsy the past few days, but at the same time, I feel tired and unmotivated - not a good combination. So we put up the crib (ok, Jesse put up the crib), and today I washed all the newborn clothes that I now have to fold.
I remember the first time I washed newborn clothes. It was so fun to fold tiny onesies and match itty bitty socks. It still makes me excited, picturing our little baby in all the cute outfits. Tonight, however, all I can think about as I fold the mountain of clothes we've acquired over the years is the number of loads of laundry that I will be doing in the years to come!

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Birth Junkie

Hi.  I'm Amanda, and I'm a birth-aholic.
I can't help myself - I'm completely addicted to the subject of birth.  How did this happen, you might wonder?
It all started four years ago with the birth of my first son.  I had a pretty typical experience with him, not giving much thought to the process of birth before he actually left the womb.  I went into labor having only read What to Expect When You're Expecting, hoping for a natural childbirth experience for the simple reason that my mom had four children without any pain medication.  I figured it couldn't be that hard if she and other women had been giving birth since the beginning of time without drugs.  I ended up with a Pitocin drip, artificially ruptured membranes, narcotics through my IV, and an epidural.  I remember feeling great when the epidural was administered - such relief from the pain from the contractions that I had no idea how to handle at the time.  It was after the birth that the real pain set in, as I was left with both physical and emotional scarring.  I knew there had to be a better way, so I started dabbling in the birth and became a recreational reader on the subject.
When I became pregnant again, I took my habit to the next level.  I read whatever I could get my hands on, I watched documentaries about birth, and I talked to anyone who seemed to be willing to listen and share.  I found people in my community like me.  These women had natural childbirths, and they fed my addiction by sharing their birth stories and giving me more to read, more to watch, more to take in.  I felt like my eyes had been opened to a whole other world I never knew existed.  I wanted to be like the women I befriended and the ones I read about, whose births were a spiritual experience they participated in, not something that was done to them.
The birth of my second son was a life-changing experience.  I had never taken part in something so beautiful, so difficult, so empowering, and so sacred.  I wanted to shout from the mountain tops that I had been let in on one of the greatest secrets of life, that I was privileged to participate in something so divine.  It wasn't an easy labor or delivery, but I had done it on my own, and it was a truly amazing accomplishment.  I was hooked for life.
Now pregnant for the third time (with only about six weeks to go until my due date), I am consumed with thoughts about birth.  I'm completely obsessed!  The more I learn about the process, the more fascinating it becomes to me.  I wonder about things like how the baby knows to turn as it's leaving the birth canal, how the placenta knows to stop supplying the baby with oxygen and nutrients, how the whole process of labor begins in the first place.  It's mind-boggling, and I can't get enough of it.  I have three books on my nightstand as I type this - Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, Baby Catcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife, and Birth: The Surprising History of How We are Born.  That's just what I'm currently reading.  I watch YouTube clips of babies being born, just so I can watch that incredible moment where the baby goes from being a part of its mother to an individual, and I get goosebumps every time.  I read about birth stories or listen to them on PregTastic all the time, and I reflect on my own experiences of birth.  I'm even a part of a couple of online forums dedicated to pregnancy and birth - My Best Birth and, of course, PregTastic.  I fantasize about becoming a midwife someday, so that I can participate in that mystical process on a daily basis.
I can't wait to go into labor on my third son's birth day (bet you don't hear that every day!).  He and I (and his Dad, working magic with double hip squeezes and back rubs and encouraging words) will work together to bring him into the world.
At the same time, I'm a little sad because I know it will be the last time I get to go through birth.  I wonder if experiencing birth for the final time will be like a cold-turkey, detoxifying rehab for my addiction.  Will I want to put away my hippie-dippie natural birth books and start reading novels again?  Will I lose interest on the subject because it doesn't directly apply to me anymore?  I hope not.  I don't want to lose this high, this feeling that comes with the knowledge of how beautiful and empowering birth can be.  I hope I always feel this passionate about birth, that I can pass it on and share it with other women, so that they, too, might become birth junkies.   Does that make me a birth pusher?

A quote from Ina May's Guide to Childbirth I had to share. It's from one of the birth stories, right after the birth when the mom holds her baby for the first time:
"I searched for something momentous to say, but no words came, only a ceaseless joy, the sort that sets the soul ablaze with love..."

I thought this really captured the feeling of that moment. I can't wait for to hold little Juicy Ghost, I mean Caleb. Can you tell I'm feeling emotional? ;)

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What's in a Name?

I really wish babies came with a name.  It's such hard work to find the perfect name for your perfect baby that you're growing, and it's really a big responsibility.  After all, a name has the potential to really shape a kid's life.  I want something that's going to sound appropriate for a child and an adult, something that's not going to get him beat up in school, but at the same time, I don't want him to have to deal with having a bunch of other kids with the same name in his class growing up.  You only get one shot at naming your child, so it's definitely something to get right.  Such pressure!  If somehow they could just emerge from the womb with a little name tag that said, "Hello, my name is..." I'd be completely okay with it.

I was never one of those girls that had names for all of my someday-children growing up.  I just had one name that I wanted to give the daughter I would surely have someday - Stella.  Every time I've been pregnant, that has been the only girl name option for me.  I never really even cared if we were having a boy or a girl, I just wanted a girl someday so I could use the name Stella.  Now that I'm pregnant for the final time with our third boy, I've accepted the fact that I'll never have a Stella.  I'm completely okay with not having a daughter (I taught middle school.  I know how girls act during the teenage years), but not getting to use my name took awhile to get used to. 

He kind of looks like a Juicy Ghost!

That being said, we still had to come up with a name for our third son.  We're the kind of people that plan ahead.  Neither one of us would be okay with waiting until after our baby was born to give him a name - that would make me WAY too nervous.  Sammy, our oldest, had kindly decided on a name for us - Juicy Ghost.  While it has a nice ring to it, and it rolls off the tongue quite easily, we set out looking for something that would seem a little more legitimate on the birth certificate.  What a process!

Naming our first two sons was easy.  Sammy, son #1, was named after his grandfathers.  

Sammy and Poppy

Sammy and Grampy

Gabriel, son #2, was a name that we came to an agreement on after a few weeks of narrowing down lists, vetoes, and discussions, but it's a name that I've always loved.  How can you go wrong with naming your kid after an angel?  His middle name is also my husband's middle name.  

Gabriel

They both have names that hang out somewhere in the middle of the top 50 most popular boy names.  They're traditional, but at the same time, not every kid in the preschool class shares their names.  They were perfect for us.

This time around was a different story.  I didn't give any thought to baby names early on because I was sure that this time I was going to get my Stella.  However, at the big ultrasound, I didn't even have to wait for the technician to ask if I wanted to know the sex.  I had already seen "the jewels" while watching her do the official part of the scan.  My first thought was not heartbreak over the daughter I would never have, it was heartbreak over the name I would never get to use.  I was completely at a loss for a name for this kid.  To make matters worse, my husband was deployed.  There was no easy way to have the back and forth discussion of baby-namings past.  Instead, it was a few emails a week.  We decided to work on our separate lists and settle the matter when he got home.  

When I set out to make my list, I had a really hard time coming up with options.  I had already used my favorite boy names, and nothing popped out at me screaming, "Pick me! Pick me!"  My husband came home, and we talked about names here or there.  He had a favorite name that he really loved, and I just couldn't commit to it.  I just referred to the baby as Juicy Ghost.  Truthfully, I just couldn't get into the process this time around.  I looked at a few websites that are pretty cool like Nymbler and The Baby Name Wizard.  They have features that analyze names, they give sibling name suggestions, and they even have feedback from real people about how they like their own name.  One name that kept showing up was my husband's #1 choice, but I was still hesitant to agree to it.

I started to think about the subject a lot, and I came to the conclusion that my ambivalence about committing to a name might have some merit.  I'm not sure that a name really has the potential to affect a person's life as I originally thought.  Our baby is already a little person with his own personality, and he's oblivious to what his name will be.  I think that a baby comes to own his name much more than the name has the ability to influence the baby.  No matter what his name ended up being, a few years from now, we won't be contemplating the subject anymore.  He'll just be who he is.  After all, I can't imagine Sammy and Gabriel being named anything else.

How could I deny this guy?

I also thought about my husband, who had never really liked the name Stella.  He was just willing to use the name because he knew how much I loved it.  If I didn't care all that much, and he had a name that really mattered to him, it was only fair to let him use it.  So after a few more days of contemplation, I let him win.  Juicy Ghost's official name will be Caleb.  Now that he's had the name for a couple of weeks, it's really grown on me (although Sammy still isn't on board!).  It's almost as though he's had the name all along.


Still, if he had just been born with a little name tag, I'd have saved myself a lot of trouble.  Just sayin'...

Air-kisses and a Shamrock

Off to school!

Sammy's first day of school 2010

Sammy started his new school year today - finally!  He had a new classroom with a new teacher, which was a little unexpected.  He was expecting to have the teacher he had for summer school but was instead assigned one he'd never met before.  At open house on Saturday, he was understandably a little nervous about this change.  He stuck pretty close to me, and although he's always a little reserved in new situations, he's usually still inquisitive and chatty (this is an understatement if you know my Sammy).  I have to make a disclaimer here on his behalf.  The kid has been through a lot already since we've moved here seven months ago - a new school with two different teachers and two different rooms, a new home, two deployments, surgery on his belly button, and another pesky baby brother on the way to name a few changes. 

Needless to say, I was nervous about dropping him off today.  My poor baby was having a bit of a rough day.  We dropped Jesse off at his ship very early this morning for another "work trip" as Sammy calls them - just two weeks this time, but enough to have an impact on Sammy's little psyche.   Throughout the morning, he was coming up with excuses to stay home. He said he was tired, and wasn't sure if he wanted to go to school after all.  Maybe he'd just take the day off, since he had to wear sneakers, and he really felt like wearing Crocs.  He could just stay home and play with Gabriel instead of going to school.  

I was so worried that his anxiety would get the best of him, and he'd have a major meltdown.  I should have known better.  Sammy was ready and back in action when we got to school.  He hung his backpack up and walked into the room like he owned the place, introducing himself to his classmates, insisting to the teacher that he could write his own name on the sign-in sheet and letting her know that his favorite color was green, so he was glad she had a green marker for him to use.  He plopped himself down at a center and didn't even look back at me to say goodbye.  I called across the room to him, "Sammy, we're leaving.  Can I give you a kiss"?  He sighed and replied with an attitude that I could "air-kiss" him from where I was, and he'd see me later.

I left, and on the way home I cried tears that only a crazy, hormonal, pregnant mother like myself can cry.  Gabriel was crying in his car seat because he didn't want to leave Sammy, which only made matters worse.  I was so happy that Sammy seemed comfortable in his new room, and that he's so adaptable, but it made me so sad to see my little baby so grown up and independent.  He didn't even care that I was gone!   Was this only the beginning of him not wanting me around?  Would he be asking me to drop him off at the corner tomorrow instead of walking him into school?  He wouldn't even let me kiss him!  I felt rejected, and a little desperate.  It was like I almost wanted him to have a hard time with getting dropped off, just so I could be there to comfort him.  How insane is that?!  Seriously, pregnancy and motherhood have made me crazy.  I should be patting myself on the back and being grateful for having such a confident, secure little boy, not blubbering like an irrational idiot!

When I picked Sammy up after school, my mothering self-esteem was redeemed.  He ran up to me with a giant hug and immediately had to show me a tiny piece of confetti shaped like a shamrock taped to his shirt.  It was a treasure he'd found for me on the playground.  He wanted to bring it home to give to me, and his teacher taped it to his shirt so it wouldn't get lost.  We went to Chik-fil-A to celebrate his great first day, and he insisted on sitting right next to me in the booth.  I guess he still needs me after all.  I'll take it for as long as I can get it.  

Ready, Set, BIRTH!

Gabriel and I, still high on life after his birth

As someone who has been around the baby block a few times, I get asked a lot about what I recommend pregnant ladies do to have a memorable, positive birth.  I'm no expert, but I do come with experience from two very different births.  Although I'm a convert and true believer in natural, drug-free birth (another post on this to follow), I also believe in a woman's right to choose.  I also believe that no matter what kind of experience you think you might want for your own birth, educating yourself is essential.
So here goes...

The Top 5 Ways to Prepare for Labor

1. READ

With my first pregnancy, I didn't bother reading a whole lot about labor and delivery.  I was more concerned with how I would to get my newborn to sleep through the night once he arrived (still looking for that answer, by the way).  The second time around, I surrounded myself with books that delved deep into what labor actually entailed physically and emotionally, how to handle the intensity of contractions and the length of labor, and birth stories shared by other women.  Here's some of what I read:

Ina May's Guide to Childbirth, by Ina May Gaskin

The Birth Partner

Birthing From Within

Natural Childbirth the Bradley Way

Baby Catcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife

2. WATCH

I don't mean watch the scary reality baby shows on cable where every birth winds up in a crisis situation.  Those will just freak you out.  I'm also not talking about the fluffy cable birth shows like TLC's A Baby Story either.  Those glaze over what labor is really like.  I challenge you (and your partner) to watch films of actual births, with the nitty gritty details included.  If you've never seen a baby emerge from a woman's vagina, you need to.  It's going to happen to you.  The more you see, the less scary it becomes. If you take a childbirth class, you'll probably see at least one clip of a birth, but here are a few other good ones to check out (available through netflix.com):

Orgasmic Birth

The Business of Being Born

3. LISTEN

PregTASTIC pregnancy podcast is an amazing show all about pregnancy and childbirth.  There have been some amazing guests showcased in the almost 200 episodes available, but my favorite part is the panel of pregnant ladies who share their own pregnancy and birth experiences with the world.  The guests are great for educating yourself on everything from breastfeeding to gestational diabetes to vaccines, but the panelists are what personalize the show for me.  Ok, I'm a self-declared PregTASTIC groupie, but I have no shame in that!  Hearing the birth stories of so many women really helped me solidify what I wanted (and didn't want) my own birth to look like.  It also reminds me that I'm not the only pregnant chick on the planet!  You can download PregTASTIC from www.pregtastic.com, and it's also available on iTunes.  The best part?  It's FREE!

4. YOGA

Prenatal yoga was invaluable to me during my last pregnancy.  I dedicated two hours a week in a studio that became time focused solely on my body, my baby, and my upcoming birth.  It not only soothed my pregnancy aches and pains, but it made me stronger physically and mentally.  It got me pysched up for the whole-being marathon that childbirth can be.  I also made fast friends in my classes that I still cherish today.  It was my yoga instructors voices that I heard in my head during transition (the hardest part of labor), reminding me to breathe.
I meet a lot of people that tell me they have a yoga DVD they do at home.  I recommend that you make the investment and find a studio.  The camaraderie and individual instruction make a huge difference.

5. EDUCATE

Ok, this sounds redundant.  The first four recommendations were about educating yourself.  I also recommend finding a childbirth educator that teaches a class tailored to the kind of birth you hope to experience or hiring a doula that can educate you before the birth and be with you throughout your labor.  This doesn't mean just attend the one day class offered by your hospital.  I've been to that class, and it doesn't really cover birth.  I think it's a worthy class to attend, as it often includes caring for a newborn, infant CPR, and other essential things to know as a first-time parent.  However, I really recommend attending something more in-depth.  I knew I wanted a natural childbirth the second time around.  Because of my husband's schedule, we weren't able to attend a formal class.  Instead, I had a doula/certified childbirth educator come to our house one Saturday and give us a breakdown on how to succeed at natural childbirth.  She was amazing, and because it was just the three of us, we were able to cover a lot of material in just a day.

So, take it or leave it, that's my two cents.  I have a laundry list of other recommendations for reading material, etc., but this is enough to get most people started.

Holy S***, we're about to have three kids

This is my third pregnancy. By now, you would think I'd be a seasoned veteran at the emotional preparation that goes into having a baby. Think again. There has come a time in each of my pregnancies that reality hits, a moment that makes me realize I actually have a real, live person growing and moving inside of me that is eventually going to come out into the world and require decades of love and care and responsibility. This moment isn't really one of panic, but it's definitely surprising (what the heck did I think was moving and shaking in there all this time anyway?) and it makes me think about what life will be like after the arrival of our newest addition. I spend a lot of time during pregnancy thinking about labor and birth (who doesn't??), but I tend to just glaze over what comes after we go home from the hospital.

That moment hit me this time around in the grocery store the other day. I picked up a carton of milk that doesn't expire until November. Granted, it's the ultra-pasteurized organic kind, so it doesn't expire for a really long time, but I had this realization that the same container of milk could theoretically still be in our fridge when the new baby arrives. At first I laughed at the thought. With two little boys, that milk doesn't have a chance of lasting two whole days much less two months. Then I stopped and for whatever reason thought, "Holy shit, we're about to have three kids."

I have a whole new set of worries with that comes with mothering three boys. When I was pregnant with our second son, Gabriel, I was worried about loving two children. Our first son, Sammy, was my entire universe. How could I possibly love another child that much. AND, if I did manage to find room in my heart for twice that amount of love, then how would Sammy feel? Would he feel like he was thrown to the curb? Was I about to ruin him? I now know that there is certainly enough love to go around. What's even more special is how much Sammy and Gabriel love each other. We've had our moments, but I don't worry about how this baby will fit into our family. I know there's plenty of room in our hearts for loving him. I know it will be an adjustment to divide my time among three kids instead of two, but since I've done it before, I know it can be done. I also know I don't have to divide my heart - it somehow just grows bigger.

I'm more worried this time around about the logistics of having all these children. We've already upsized a vehicle (hello, minivan mama!), but we are definitely going to be a more cramped in our already-cramped townhouse. We have a lot of stairs and zero yard. I wonder about how I'll get three kids in and out of the house and car, how I'll get them all to sleep at (hopefully) the same time, how I'll get all of my housekeeping chores done (that I'm not exactly stellar at to begin with), how I'll fit all of them plus groceries in a shopping cart, and what exactly I'll do with them all day, EVERY day. When we go out as a family now, it's man-on-man defense. We can each take a kid. What will we do when there are three of them and two of us (or often times, just me!)?? How will this child survive infancy with two older brothers whose favorite pastime is wrestling?? What if I have to fly somewhere with all three kids by myself??

All of these thoughts zoomed through my head in the time it took me to put that darned milk in the shopping cart. I was brought back to reality by my two boys fighting over who had control of which steering wheel in their little rocket ship shopping cart, and I realized, this is life. We'll figure it out. We've grown as a family before, and we survived that transition. I'll probably go crazy in the next few years (if I haven't already), I might have less brain cells and more grey hair, but I'm sure we'll have lots of laughs and slobbery kisses along the way, too. I'll keep you posted.