Pigeon!

This is Campbell's Pigeon. My sister gave it to him for Christmas. For those of you who don't have small children, Pigeon is the star of several books by Mo Willems. Our favorite is Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.

Despite having lots of stuffed animals, Campbell hadn't really taken on one as a favorite until Pigeon arrived. Now he can't go to sleep without Pigeon tucked under his arm. When I get him up in the morning or after nap, Campbell is always standing at the side of his crib, Pigeon clutched in his hand.

When you squeeze Pigeon's belly, he shouts, "Let me drive the bus!" It's a line from the book. There have been many times when I've heard Pigeon yelling in the middle of the night over the baby monitor because Campbell has rolled over on him in his sleep. Other times, I hear Pigeon yelling, followed by Campbell cackling. He cracks himself up by making Pigeon talk.

I'm glad all of my kids have found their own security objects. Ella has her Pooh Bear, who has been her companion since she was a baby. He still has a hospital bracelet around his neck from when Ella had surgery on her leg three years ago. Lily has her lovies, which are cloth diapers with patches of fabric sewn on them. We're down to two of them after having lost three others. I had to institute a rule that lovies are only allowed in bed because I got tired of the nightly house-wide search for them so that Lily would go to sleep.

I wonder what New Baby will get attached to.

FAQs

In addition to e-mails and comments full of support in the wake of my announcement last week, I've received a lot of questions. Here are some of them.

Is this baby going to be the caboose?
Actually, Campbell was supposed to be the caboose. While we had at times discussed a fourth, we weren't serious about it for a number of reasons. First, our house. We live in a 1600 square foot, 3-bedroom, 2-bath house that's already crowded. We really don't want to move, and we're not in the financial position to put on addition. So this baby is going to make things more crowded. Second, our health insurance. Because we're self-insured, our policy doesn't cover pregnancy and delivery. We're looking at a tab of about $12,000 to $15,000 for this baby. There go any plans we had to re-do the kitchen or put hardwood floors in the back of the house.

So yes, this baby will be the caboose. I've already opted to have my tubes tied during delivery.

Don't you know where babies come from?
No, even after four pregnancies, it's still a mystery to us. Enlighten me, please.

When are you due?
My due date is November 10, but given that I have to have a c-section thanks to Campbell, we'll be setting my delivery date at about 20 weeks.

Are you going to find out?
Nope. We haven't found out with any of the other kids, and neither of us see a reason to start now. It's already alien to me that we'll know so far in advance the date and time of the baby's birth.

Do you have a preference?
Not really. Although it would be nice for Campbell to have a little brother to be his partner in crime. The girls are so close that I'd like Campbell to have the same experience. But really, I'm fine either way.

Have you picked names yet?
No, we're stumped on names. I'm still lobbying for Tallulah, but I don't think I'm going to get my wish, even as a middle name. We both kind of feel like we've run through all the good family names, and my sister has given me a list of family middle names that I'm not allowed to use. She says it's not fair that I get the good names like Ella and Campbell just because I had babies first. So in the interest of fairness I'm taking Robertson and Evelyn and O'Keeffe off our list.

How have people reacted?
The reactions have been pretty entertaining. The folks I've told in person haven't been able to hide their shock. One neighbor burst out laughing. I told another friend when we were running, and she came to such an abrupt stop that I thought she was going to fall over. Another close friend dropped everything she was holding and gave me the biggest hug.

My mother had one of her classic reactions. She said, "You're having another baby? But you'll have to have another c-section. That's major surgery you know." Um, no, I hadn't noticed that last time. I just loved that she went straight to the dangers of surgery instead of excitement about another grandbaby.

I had a Danskin Triathlon committee meeting last night - this will be the fourth time I'll have worked the race while pregnant - and everyone there has worked on the race as long as I have. When word filtered down the table that I was pregnant, they all had the same reaction - a shocked expresion followed by the same question, "Pregnant? Again?"

Once everyone has gotten over the initial shock, they have been universally supportive and encouraging. The responses have reminded me how fortunate we are in our family and friends.

Do you have any of your maternity clothes and baby gear left?
Nope. I have one maternity tank top and one maternity bathing suit left from last time, and that's it. I gave away our infant car seat about six months ago. But a friend has a crib we'll be able to use, and I still have our cradle - I was saving it for grandbabies to use. I've also given away all of my gender-neutral newborn clothing. I'll essentially be provisioning as though this is my first baby. But at least I'll get the fun of buying tiny baby clothes again.

Feeling better?
The mornings are better, nausea-wise, and I've been able to get out and run several mornings a week, even if I have slowed to a snail's pace. The afternoons, however, are still really hard. The nausea kicks in at about 4:30, and snacks of ginger ale and saltines don't do anything to help. I'm also still tired all the time.

How about the varicose veins you had with Campbell?
They're getting bigger by the day. I'm going to have to start wearing my lovely support knee-highs soon - just in time for the heat of the summer.

So there you are - everything you could possibly want to know and then some.

(Almost) Wordless Wednesday

Lily and B before her beloved "ballelet" class. B hates to have his picture taken; Lily loves it.

Tagged

I was tagged by Damsel, and now I have to list six unimportant things about me. Hmmm. There are so many things that are unimportant - how to choose?

1. Milk is my favorite beverage. I guess that's a good thing considering how much of my life I spend pregnant or nursing.
2. I have a scar that runs through my right eyebrow. I got it when I was a child. I had tied a jump rope to a swing on my swing set and then brilliantly pulled the swing into my own face.
3. I'd leave my husband in a heartbeat if Lyle Lovett asked me to. My husband knows and accepts this.
4. I don't get Bob Dylan.
5. I have an IQ that is in the genius range. But when I took an IQ test for fun 6 months after Ella was born, I scored a 65 - proof that being a mother makes you stupid.
6. I have the bad habit of abesent-mindedly twitching my left foot. When I do this my ankle makes a clunking noise that I don't even notice. The noise, however, drives B insane.

There - six things. I'm not going to tag anyone. But if you feel like making your own list, drop a line in the comments and let me know.

Cheers

416

That's the number of children who were taken from the YFZ compound here in Texas this week. I am absolutely stunned that so many children were hidden there, away from public view. The scariest thing is that these children know no other way of life. The girls are brought up to believe that their purpose in life is to be married young and bear as many children as possible. The boys are brought up to believe it is their right to have as many wives as they like - provided they aren't exiled from the community because there are too many young men.

What's even scarier is how many children might be in the Colorado City community, which is much, much larger than the Eldorado compound. There might be thousands there, hidden from view and "protected" by the local authorities, who are all FLDS members.

I know that "regular" Mormons are ordinary people who happen to believe in odd things. By all accounts, most are fine, upstanding members of their communities. But the fundamentalists are something else all together. If you haven't, you should read Krakauer's "Under the Banner of Heaven." It contains an excellent history of Mormonism and of the fundamentalist cults that sprang up.

I don't consider FLDS to be a religion - it's a cult, pure and simple. Any group that hides its members away from sight and indoctrinates them to believe that young girls should have sex and bear children with men decades older than they is a cult.

My hope is that the Texas authorities can find good foster home for these kids and help them transition to the real world. Otherwise, in a few years, they'll be raiding the compound and removing even more children.

And as for the girl who called in the report of abuse - she's got to be the bravest girl. I hope she's safe with the other kids and hasn't been whisked away as a result of her call for help.

I'm not a praying person, but I am praying for these children.

Two tired girls

The girls spent Friday night and all day Saturday with their grandmother and returned home for a late bedtime. True to form, they were up at the crack of dawn Sunday.

Lily fell apart first, bursting into tears at the slightest thing - Campbell touched her teddy bear, the tent they built fell down, Ella wouldn't play with her, her apple had a bruise. After two hours of dealing with her tears, I sent her to her room for rest time. "But I'm not tired!" she wailed as I tucked her in. She popped out a few times to announce that she had stopped crying, but, mean mom that I am, I put her back in bed. After an hour of protesting, Lily finally fell asleep; she took a 3 1/2 hour nap. So much for her not being tired.

Ella held everything together until just before bedtime. As we were gearing up for toothbrushing and stories, Ella announced that she was hungry. B told her that it was too late for snack, which sent Ella over the edge. She started screaming about how she was starving, so she got sent to bed. B and I both went in to calm her down, to no avail. She finally cried herself to sleep, which just broke my heart. When she woke up this morning, her eyes were all puffy from crying. I wanted to cry from looking at her.

She just needs to learn that screaming and yelling and slamming doors is not the way to go about getting what she wants. B and I tried to explain it to her last night, but she was too worked up to listen to us. As a result of her fit, she has to go straight to her room after school today. I hate to do that to her, because I know her tantrum was a result of her being overtired, but still . . .

Poor tired girls.

Sitting in a tree . . .

I furthered my reputation for motherly omniscience on Friday. We went up to the neighborhood grocery store with our friends the Ks and bought popsicles, which we sat outside and ate. While the kids were running around, mama-K told me that her daughter told her that Ella had kissed a boy after school and they were planning a November wedding. I just cringed.

I don't want either of my daughters to be a boy-crazy girl. Plus, I think seven is too young to be kissing.

While we were eating dinner, I casually said to Ella, "I hear that you and N kissed at the park today after school." The look on her face was classic. She was clearly thinking, "How did she know that??" But she shook her head no. I asked, "You didn't kiss N?" Another head shake. "N didn't kiss you?" Another shake, with a mortified look. I said, "It's ok if you did. I was just curious. I also heard you were having a wedding in November." Her eyes got even bigger at that comment.

I dropped the subject for a few minutes. Then I said, "You know. I think seven is too young to be kissing boys. Holding hands is OK. Hugging a friend is OK, but no kissing. I think you need to be 27 before you can kiss boys." Ella's only protest was, "But that's seven years after I'm a teenager." I shuddered a bit at the thought of Ella's being a teenager.

Later, while she and Lily were getting ready for their shower, I told Ella that if a boy ever wanted to kiss her and she didn't want him to, she was always allowed to say, "My mom says I'm not allowed to." I told her she could blame it all on me. I think she really liked the idea of blaming something on me, based on the slightly wicked grin on her face.

I'm glad I've opened the discussion of boys and kissing now. Perhaps if we are able to keep it up, it will be easier to broach the whole dating and sex thing when she's a bit older. The way things are going, it seems like that time will be sooner rather than later.

A good run

I wanted to get up and run with the group at 5:30 this morning, but last night's migraine ruined those plans. So this morning I put on running clothes in the hopes that doing so would inspire me to run after I got everyone off to school. And it worked.

After the thunderstorms stopped, I left Campbell home with B and headed out the door to run my little 3-mile loop in the neighborhood. I'm so glad I got out there. The weather was perfect for running - the storms had brought the temperatures down a good 15 degrees (I had to send a jacket to school for Ella with a neighbor because wore a sundress today) and dropped the humidity. Everything smelled so fresh and clean - all the spring trees and flowers are in bloom. Plus, after warming up, I actually felt good while I was running, and I was able to finish strong.

I ended feeling so good, so pleased with myself for actually getting out there to run.

Unfortunately, the good feelings didn't last long. By the time I got in the shower, the waves of all-day sickness had hit. B said he could see me actually turn green in front of him. So much for my theory that getting out an exercising makes my nausea better.

Blown away

I am absolutely blown away by the comments and e-mails I've received in response to my post on Tuesday. I was very nervous about putting my real feelings about this surprise baby out there for the world to see. Knowing how the blogosphere can be sometimes, I was preparing myself for some flames, for people to tell me I was a horrible person for not being overjoyed about an unexpected pregnancy.

Instead I received nothing but support, love and kindness. It was a relief to know that I'm not the only mother to feel this way and that is is OK to not be excited right away.

I'm still adjusting to the turn my life is taking, but being able to let go of some of the guilt I've been carrying for four weeks about how I feel has made a world of difference to me.

So thank you to everyone who commented and e-mailed. You helped me more than you can know.

This is not an April Fool's joke

So about four weeks ago all my plans for the coming year got thrown out the window. My goal of running the New York City Marathon? Gone. My anticipation of having Ella and Lily at school all day and Campbell at preschool two mornings a week? Gone. My plans for taking on more freelance work? Gone.

Why?

Because I'm pregnant with baby number four. To say that this was a surprise would be an understatement. I'm still having trouble saying "pregnant" out loud - it's like if I say it, it will actually be true.

The pregnancy test turned positive immediately - no need to wait three minutes for the results. I left it on the counter in the bathroom and went back several times during the day to check to see if it had suddenly turned negative - because they do that you know. Or not.

B was in meetings all day, so I couldn't get in touch with him to share the news. I had the whole day to sit and stew and cry. I finally was able to tell him late that afternoon, after our meeting to refinance our lake place. His reaction? "Holy f*ck, Wally!" Then he asked if I was sure he was the father. I kicked him in the shins. But since then he's been a rock. Every time I melt down in despair about having a fourth child when I can barely cope with three, he's there with reassurances that everything will be OK and we'll figure it all out together.

As much as I have joked in the past about wanting to have more babies, I didn't really mean it. I'm fine with three kids. Before we had Campbell, I insisted that someone was missing from our family. Once Campbell arrived, I felt like we were complete. There isn't anyone missing.

And all of these feelings of stress and anxiety make me feel even worse than the constant morning sickness. I mean, how can I not be excited about a new baby? I love babies. Babies are wonderful!

But I was so close to having that part of my life over with, and I was looking forward to it. I was going to have two whole mornings a week without children in the house. I was going to be able to get my hair cut or go to the dentist or go to work meetings without having to hire a sitter. I was going to be able to volunteer more at the girls' school without having to hire a sitter. I was counting down to the end of having diapers and sippy cups in the house.

Now I get to start all over.

All of those mixed emotions were compounded by the fact that I found out about the baby the same week my grandmother died. I fell apart one day when I realized I didn't get the chance to tell her that she was going to have a fourth great-grandbaby. My dear friend H consoled me by saying that my grandmother's spirit was whispering all sorts of secrets to the baby already. That just made me cry more.

We told the girls earlier this week. They did cartwheels around the kitchen while screeching with excitement. Ella kisses my belly several times a day and keeps asking when the baby will be big enough to hear her read stories to it. I'm trying to share their excitement, but it's hard.

I know that once they put that tiny, pink, screaming bundle in my arms I'll be just fine. I'll rejoice in the miracle that is a new baby.

I may not be able to rejoice until then, however. At least not until I stop feeling queasy and tired 24 hours a day.