If you think I’m terrible at blogging now, just wait a few months.
The most terrible part of it all is how desperately badly I want to write. How I sit here with an open editor, and have to set it aside again and again to put out fires and calm tantrums.
Sometimes I tweet my best material, and then wonder why I didn’t save it for a blog.
I think I’m going to steal borrow an idea from one of the fabulous blogs I read. Jill at BabyRabies always puts how old her current son is as well as how far along she is at the bottom of her posts. I love it. Especially when going back and reading what was going on with her at certain times. There really is no better way to know or figure out the timeline of events. There are times, even now, when I go back and read my own posts and wonder “How old was Ronan when that happened?”
So far, I find it hard to believe I’m already 15 weeks pregnant. I feel like just yesterday I had a positive test. I have been feeling sweet little kicks for a while now, and Brock felt a few last night. I know, early right? Remember, I’m freakishly skinny. As of now, I have put on half a pound this pregnancy. My next midwife appointment is a week from today. I’m sort of excited for it. The whole midwife experience has been great for me so far, and I can’t wait to see how it unfolds.
I have been having second and third thoughts about whether or not I want to take another birthing course. I’m learning (the more that I read) that the hospital-provided birthing classes are hardly adequate to prepare a woman for true labor. With no option of medicine or intervention, I feel like it would be beneficial to have a little more education under my belt. At the same time, I’m hesitant about the cost and time commitment. Is that silly? I should probably just go for it. I would love Brock to come with me too, as he is going to be my labor partner. He did an AMAZING job at Ronan’s birth, but I have a feeling this experience will be a whole different monster. I’m afraid he’ll think it’s a waste of time.
Haha. Ronan is sitting next to me on the couch, and he just put his foot on my arm. Just because. Silly kid.
I was sure I had something more to say, but it has slipped from my mind. So I’ll end this here.
Ronan is 18 months old, and I am 15 weeks pregnant.
