Katy Rank Lev

According to all the timelines (and my midwives) I need to pack my birthing bag this weekend because I’ll be 36 weeks and Octagon could come at any time. Part of me thinks this is crazy, since of course Octagon will gestate for 41+ weeks just like his darn brother. Most of me thinks this is awesome, because I like nothing more than pre-planning and practice packing.

Last time, I packed way too much crap. And it wasn’t the right crap. 5 pairs of cheapo socks to wear while birthing? Bah. Several changes of clothes? Who has the energy to put on clothes? It was all I could do to put on some sweatpants to go home. Underwear? I wore those disposable mesh hospital numbers happily!

But I didn’t have my own towel or shower stuff. And let me tell you–hospital towels are not really towels. They are more like scratchy, over-sized washcloths. In fact, I think I used a bigger washcloth at the Sheraton for our trip a few weeks ago.

Last time, I disrobed and donned a hospital gown as suggested, until I realized that I needed to be totally naked. Then I stayed that way through many, many hours of contractions and didn’t give a fart who saw me that way. Just in case birthing-Katy wants to have clothes on this time, I think I’ll go ahead and wear a sports bra and some sort of comfortable outfit I don’t mind soiling. Maybe a dress? Otherwise, I’m really ok wearing a hospital gown for a few days.

I’m going to let Corey worry about his own crap, because I love that man but I can’t deal with his nonsense when it comes to packing or planning. As for me and Octagon, this is what we’re bringing:

• 2 shirts and 1 pair of pants for going home. Chances are, 1 of the shirts will get wrecked. Hence, 2.
• My Boppy pillow. For nursing. Those hospital pillows aren’t sufficient.
• 2 of our own baby blankets, because they are softer
• 2 going home outfits for Octy, because his brother barfed on his going home outfit and I didn’t have a spare and I now know better.
• My nursing tank!
• A towel
• many, many tubes of lip balm
• lotion
• travel shower stuff
• toothbrush/toothpaste
• Crocs
• maybe some socks? My feet are always stinking hot anyway. And I’m certain I won’t wear them during my birthing time.
• snazzy new nursing bra
• charger for my phone (which is a camera and computer all in one!)
• case for my glasses
• birth vision
• smutty magazine, like People or US Weekly

And I don’t think I’m going to pack anything else. If I wind up with a RC/S, my mom can bring me additional things for an extended stay. If all goes well, I want to get the heck out of there as soon as possible. I just want to make sure I pack a big enough bag to take advantage of taking things (like many, many spare pairs of the hospital mesh underwear and those pink plastic bins that are SO great for so many things).

Am I missing something crucial? Was your bag packing different for subsequent babies?

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This pregnancy is way different from the first, so far.

For starters, I’m exhausted as hell. I distinctly remember the crippling exhaustion of both early and late pregnancy, the way I would sink into sleep and there wouldn’t possibly ever be enough sleep in the world to rejuvenate me. I worked from home and napped whenever I felt the urge, because who cared if I was working til after 10pm?

Well, this time I have another human being to take care of. One who can’t do basic things like control his bowels or serve himself his damn cashews. Or sleep at night. Or nap consistently. So yeah, I’m pretty tired all the time.

And what’s with the nausea? People, women of the world, I had NO IDEA! I wasn’t nauseous with Miles. I threw up only one time, but that was the day I did the Filthy 50 in 45 minutes, pregnant, so I think mostly I barfed because of the burpees. This time, I spend at least 4 hours every day feeling like I’m gonna hurl, but then not actually hurling. I’m positive I’d feel better if I could just throw up.

Sometimes, I throw up. Like if I’m changing a poopy diaper or the butcher at Giant Eagle walks past me and I see the guts all over his apron. Then I throw up. But mostly, I lie awake in the mornings wishing something would make my stomach feel better.

Sidenote: You know that insane sense of smell you get while pregnant? That does not make the queasiness part anything less than torturous.

*I’ve had several food suggestions from mom-friends that have panned out: ginger snaps, Whole Foods egg salad on a salt bagel (toasted), waffles*

And zits. I have teenager-zits all over my face and chest. With Miles, my skin cleared up and it was glorious and the sun beamed through my cheeks as everyone gazed upon my flawless complexion. Now, I have acne.

I know what you’re all about to type in the comments: It must be a girl this time! Since it’s so different and all!

I’d be lying if I didn’t hope you were right. However, I’m letting the universe know all my energy is dedicated to praying for a child who sleeps, any type of healthy child who sleeps consistently.

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I’ve always known I wanted several children. I thought I wanted 3 children until I had my one, high-needs child. Now I’m pretty sure 2 will be enough. I sort of had an idea about how close together I wanted them to be, and then that was sort of decided for me (my midwives recommended 18 months before getting pregnant, and my research supported this strongly enough that I didn’t think twice about having kids closer together).

So then, Miles turned 18 months old and we had a decision to make. Were we gonna make another baby? He wasn’t (and still isn’t) sleeping through the night or with any regularity. He wasn’t weaned. He wasn’t toilet independent.

But he was singing and learning to share and making up games like “jump up and down from the porch step” or “hide under the sofa cushion” and doing all manner of cute things that made us think he’d be a fun brother.

Several of my friends who have kids like Miles, kids who don’t sleep and run away from them in public and just have intense needs at all times, assured me that baby #2 would do something magical and I’d wind up with 2 kids who sleep all the time instead of one who never does. I’ll tell you, that dangling carrot made me want to immediately impregnate myself. Sleep as a result of a new baby? Sign me up!

So I allowed myself one intense physical challenge (see: Rachel Carson Trail Challenge) before attempting conception, one last time to make my body do something crazy before asking my body to do the work of creating another human being and then nourishing that human.

Because I’m Type A, I also had to plan conception around the academic year and when Corey will finish his CPA exam, so we couldn’t start trying until 40 weeks out from my finals week and his final test. (I mean, who could grade, study for, or take an exam with Miles and an infant baby at home?)

We reached both those milestones and suddenly it was time to get to brass tacks. If we conceived, that would mean we were officially signed up to do all of this again. All of it. Hour-long nursing sessions. Interrupted (well, further interrupted) sleep. Two kids to stuff into snow clothes and buckle into car seats. Two freaking carseats each time we needed a loaf of bread. Are we insane?

It’s all moot now. I’m 10.5 weeks pregnant. Sometime this May, we will have 2 external children. I’m terrified, and also excited. Mostly terrified. I have only the comforting knowledge that the times my current kid acts amazing are so overwhelmingly amazing they make me forget the other, more frustrating times. I’ll get to have twice the number of amazing moments!

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