For those of you who follow me on Facebook and Twitter, you’re already well aware that I may or may not have spent the very early portion of Sunday morning in an emergency room at a posh hospital in the Chicago suburbs. I may or may not have gone to the hospital after spending seven hours of Saturday evening vomiting promptly every thirty minutes for a total of fifteen pukes and two unfortunate changes of underwear. I also may or may not have found out that vomiting in your third trimester is made easier by being on all fours, and that in moments of desperation I will beg the nearest ER nurse for an IV to rehydrate me – things I never would have assumed before this weekend.

I caught a stomach bug that was goin around, and I’m pleased to say that it gave the Hof and I some good preparatory experience for what I’d imagine D-day will entail: multiple calls to the midwife (who was kind enough to coach us through my stomach bug in the midst of delivering babies), many, many clean towels, and my exclamation to everyone I was wheeled past in the hospital that “I’M TWENTY NINE WEEKS PREGNANT!” for fear they would inject me with some drug unsafe for my daughter in utero.

You hear these horror stories of people who were given a drug they were allergic to because their emergency medical band fell off, or a dosage gone wrong because the nurse was overworked, underpaid, and just needed a vacation forheavensake! Well I was determined not to be one of those people and questioned everything that went into my IV – what would the side effects be and um, hi, but my face is tingling, just as an FYI. At one point, when I reminded the nurse that “I’M TWENTY NINE WEEKS PREGNANT! And is this safe for the baby?” she responded with a snarky, “the doctor wouldn’t have prescribed it if it wasn’t safe for the baby.”

So that’s when I just shut up, told her she had gorgeous hair, and turned on the tele to watch Ben Harper on Austin City Limits. About five minutes after that miracle-working hydrating IV, I was ranting to Matt about how STUPID Reliant K was, how Ben was just letting it all go to pot, and myohmy how I LOVE THIS IV!

The whole ordeal was really rather comical (aside from the moments when I really feared my daughter was in danger), and we had a stupendous weekend with family although it was cut short. My biggest regret? Not being able to eat my sister’s slow-roasted Chicago beefs. I cut all of that meat the day beforehand and didn’t even get to taste it!

Now that we’re home, my system is slowly returning to normal. And frankly, as I head off to the grocery store today to fill our empty fridge, I look forward to doing so with a non-existant appetite – something I haven’t experienced in seven months. You really can’t imagine how nice it will be to walk past the bakery and not fight with myself over whether or not I need to buy five chocolate cakes… one for each workday BECAUSE I WORK SO HARD!

A few shoutouts to my new favorite people, Annie Reeder (my doula) and Gaylea McDougal (who co-taught our awesome childbirthing class with Annie), both with informative websites on your many childbirthing options.

And my sister, Clarissa, an almost-doula, has started a blog where she recently posts about various baby-wearing options. You don’t really have to be all into attachment parenting (I’m not… yet. Likely to change…) to be into baby-wearing. You can just be like me – someone who likes to keep it simple, Stupid, and not haul around a lot of useless baby gear. In the next few days she’ll be highlighting her recommendations for good carriers.

Now a little bit about doulas. Caution: I’m gonna get spiritual on you. Just pretend you’re listening to Oprah, and you won’t feel as wonky.

Matt and I went back and forth on whether or not we needed to use a doula because of how in tune with our desires my midwives seemed to be. Last week everything seemed to really come together remarkably. We had a wonderful appointment with the midwife who assured us that yes, I could push in whatever position I wanted, and try many positions! And yes! Matt can catch Penelope! And no! I don’t need to have an IV at all if everything is going fine. And yes! It’s totally cool for me to stay at home and labor there until it’s time to start pushing. And no! They won’t give me an episiotomy! And I can eat and drink to my little hearts delight throughout the whole process. In fact she was totally on board with our birth plan.

Last week we also decided to hire Awesome Annie to really make it possible for me to labor at home until the very last minute – we’ll have an experienced and knowledgeable doula there to make sure all is going well. On top of that, she goes to our church and will be able to help us achieve the one thing I really care about, and the only thing that I can control – to make sure that Penny’s arrival into the world is a worshipful experience, one where I am leaning on God for my strength and glorifying Him.

Matt and I were talking last night about just how at peace we feel with all of these decisions. I can truly say that I am facing my medical phobias head on with an amazing team of people, Matt, the midwives, Annie, and my Heavenly Father, who are going to support me emotionally, physically, and spiritually, and keep Penny’s health first and foremost in their mind. I have completely come to grips with the understanding that this will be a roller-coaster ride with lots of changes in course, but I feel totally equipped to handle it because of this awesome support team.

Now when I can’t sleep at night, I envision that awesome day when my daughter makes her arrival. I see myself in the quiet of my house focusing through contractions with Annie pushing on my back and Matt holding my hands, all of us meditating on the words of our Savior. And I’m no longer afraid.

And that’s why you want a doula…

Y’all know I’m no expert and that I’m very much a first-timer. But I have loads of friends who are just now finishing up their first trimesters and letting the proverbial cats out of the bag. First of all, I’m super happy for you guys. And I promise to walk with you through pregnancy and not hand out unsolicited advice other than this… GET A MIDWIFE! Ok, I promise it’s out of my system now.

I read a ton of books about pregnancy, labor and delivery, even though I never really thought I would. I thought I would want to embrace the “Ignorance Is Bliss” philosophy, but after reading one, you just get sucked in over and over again!

So here are my book recommendations for whiling away the hours when you can’t sleep at night.

Ina May’s Guide to Childbirth – If you read NOTHING ELSE in your whole pregnancy, you will be fine after having read this book. You might go into it thinking she’s quacky, and with some of the stories and photos you might continue to feel that way. But stick it out and then tell me she’s a quack after finishing it all. For real, it will change your life. And you will likely feel capable of saving the world. Go for it!

Our Bodies, Ourselves: Pregnancy and Birth – I highly encourage you to read this book which is set up a bit more on a timeline ala “What To Expect When You’re Expecting” without all of the “YOU’RE GOING TO DIE!” and “YOUR BABY IS GOING TO DIE!” crap that What To Expect throws in there. Along those lines, don’t listen to ANYTHING that What To Expect says about miscarriage. They are big fat jerks and I want to kick them in the genitals. “Our Bodies, Ourselves” addresses what you need to know about miscarriage, and while we’re also on miscarriage can I please take a moment to shout from the rooftops that most women do not need D&Cs! Your doc might just schedule you for one routinely, but know that you probably do not need one unless you had a complicated or late miscarriage. Your body will take care of things fine on its own, and you’d rather be lying in your bed eating mac n cheese, weeping and playing cards with your mom than coming out of a druggy-invasive-procedure- fog. Just sayin.

You: Having a Baby – After the disasters that are Dr. Phil and Rachel Ray, it’s hard to believe that any made-famous-by-Oprah character could be any good. But Dr. Oz contributes to this fascinating book that tackles a lot of interesting genetic stuff regarding your baby. It’s the first thing I’ve read that relates honest information about the little truth we know regarding autism (AKA: not Jenny McCarthy’s lies). That’s of course not the focus of the book, but it discusses your pregnancy on a molecular level which is kinda fun. I wish I had read this earlier in my pregnancy, and you’ll want to read it as soon as you can, because it can help you get on a good, healthy path for the nine months ahead.

Finally, there was a beautiful book that my sister-in-law, Beth, showed me over Christmas and I sat down and read in its entirety at her dining room table. It’s a book on newborn care written by a Swedish author filled with stunning photography. I enjoyed every page of it, then came home and promptly read it again in the library. But Christmas was a long time ago, and I’ve forgotten the name of it, so I’m hoping Beth can fill us in on what it was. Pick up a copy just to look at the photos, if nothing else.

I’m venturing a guess that having babies is similar to getting a puppy, and the expecting moms I know were all puppy-owners at one time. (Of course experienced moms are going to say there are no similarities, but we all know it’s just because they don’t get enough sleep.) Before getting Berlin, I read a slew of books on puppy training and what to do and what not to do and hoped beyond hope that we’d have a well-behaved crate-trained little beauty. I also thought she’d never play fetch because of her anxiety. Well, the pup hates crates, but will sleep curled up on the floor next to us wherever we are all well-behaved-like. She never chews on furniture and would rather play fetch than eat, even. So all the book-learnin I acquired from the Monks did nearly jack squat for me. I think the fact of the matter is that your intuition and your unconditional love will win out in the end.

But still read the Ina May book.

What is even cuter than a tiny baby bird trying to fly for the very first time? I’ll tell you what. CLOTH DIAPERS.

From Daily Daguerreotype

These arrived in the mail last week from Marissa and Deneese and I’ve been folding and refolding and stuffing and unstuffing them since then. Because I’m not going to get enough of that when Penelope arrives and is yellow slime pooing them twelve times daily.

Even Matt is smitten. When he held up the little orange diaper, unsnapped it and saw how small it adjusts for newborns he exclaimed, “I am SO HAPPY she’s being born in the summer time! Just think of how cute she’ll be squealing around in just this little orange diaper!”

Ok, I amend my previous statement. The only thing cuter than a tiny baby bird trying to fly for the first time, is going to be my daughter squealing around with a big ole cloth diaper on her booty. NOM NOM NOM!!!!!!!

Yesterday was the first day of the long-distance shower that my sisters are throwing me, and I don’t know what to say, you guys. I’m blown away by your generosity. The mailman had to take two trips to my front yard to carry in all the packages!

I can’t tell you how humbling it feels to be inundated with amazing  baby gear from such dear friends. I’ve spoken with some of you personally about how awkward and grabby it feels to me registering for baby gifts. It feels differently when I’m perusing Babies R Us to pick something out for a friend’s baby showers, but for some reason I feel wonky being on the receiving end. I come from a family of very generous people who give really lovingly (case in point – my wonderful sisters) and take gratitude seriously… so you can blame my issues on them.

Needless to say, I was absolutely giddy yesterday afternoon looking through all the adorable onesies, books, and teeny tiny nail clippers. I never in all of my life would have thought I’d get giddy over teeny tiny nail clippers. Has my evil twin taken over my body in the form of maternal hormones?

When Matt got home from work I had my stacks all organized, and walked through showing him what came from whom, and OMG HOW CUTE IS THIS CAPE COD HOODIE!?! Penny’s first of many Cuffy’s Cape Cod hoodies and t-shirts!

“Holy cow! She’s going to be a clothes horse,” was his response.

My biggest concern is that she won’t be able to spend enough time with all of her mother’s wonderful friends in NH, NJ, PA, MA, OH, and elsewhere.

I love you guys. Thanks for filling my love tank this week.

Now let me give something to YOU! Go comment to win the Turtlebob’s Doggie Delights!

I just got an awesome gift from Angie the other day, a book on how to make your own baby food. I dove right in and read, I think, half of it this past Sunday. Told a friend I was going to try to cloth diaper and make my own baby food, and she shot me down saying that I was trying to be a super-mom and had to lower my expectations of what was actually achievable when you are home all day with a baby. Um, how you say… disagree?

I’m excited to try my hand at making baby food because 1) I love to cook, 2) I love to save money, and 3) I think I have no excuse not to. I have fourty hours a week that I’m not in an office, so my full-time job will be taking care of Penelope and managing our budget. And by saving money on things like diapers (by cloth diapering) and home-pureed carrot grossness (by making it myself), I’m going to be able to buy plane tickets to visit my family, thankyouverymuch. Also, really? Do you recommend I spend that time watching General Hospital instead? Because is it just me or has Jax not aged a day in the past ten years? THAT’S believable!

So I picked up the book to find out just how complicated this whole making-your-own-baby-food thing really is. About halfway through Super Baby Food the author mentions that an ice cube is the perfect size for one portion of smashed up frozen veggies or fruit, and you just might want to pick up some more ice cube trays.

And here’s where I need to confess a sin. Nearly every apartment we have lived in has had a few ice cube trays in the freezer when we arrived. And when we moved out I took them – every single one. I am swimming in ice cube trays. In fact I’ve never actually purchased one. Only when we moved to Nashville did I finally have a fridge with an icemaker. But even after Matt installed said icemaker, I stashed my ice cube trays in the pantry cabinet, because guys, YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN YOU’RE GOING TO NEED MORE ICE.

Just watch. Penny won’t want anything to do with food that doesn’t come in a Gerber screw-top jar. Something about karma?