Have I ever told you about how I thought I was a week or so more pregnant than my doctor? True story.
When we got pregnant, I wasn’t on birth control. We knew we wanted to start a family sooner rather than later, and we didn’t know how long it would take my body to adjust to being hormone-free. Because I wasn’t on the pill, I kept a calendar. Kept a calendar of what, my two (maybe) male readers ponder? Monthly lady details, my friends. If you’ve ever been on birth control and then stopped, you know why I kept a calendar (here’s another hint to my faithful male readers: everything is JACKED-UP). I’ll spare you my notation details, but my Type A peeps would be proud. On that calendar, I kept track of EVERYTHING (she blushes coyly). You know, just in case. Well, Just in Case’s name is Liam, and he’ll make an appearance in a few weeks.
Because I kept track on said calendar I know when, YOU KNOW, happened. So when I was asked for the first date of my last cycle, I cited my calendar and cracked some joke about being meticulous and date of conception (totally inappropriate, nervous Betsy joke). Doctor laughed. I knew I liked him for a reason. Based on my dates, my due date would be September 8th. Based on what Doctor saw during that first ultrasound, my due date was set at September 14th. And there it has remained. Due dates are based on average cycles. Revisiting my “jacked-up” comment above, there was nothing average about my cycles. They’d be long and then short and then long and then long and then short. It was SO much fun. L Bean is measuring right-on-track for a September 14th due date, so obviously Doctor knows best. September 8th sounds pretty awesome right about now, though.
On a different note, Husband looked at me last night and said, “It looks like your stomach has grown since this morning.” We measured. It hadn’t. But it sure feels like it. Clothes are getting TIGHT (and not just around my stomach, sad face).
We had our last baby class last night: breastfeeding basics for couples. Yes, Husband tagged along. I’m going to need his help/support. Plus, they showed a video (I kid, I KID!).
Before I talk about our class, I have to share something swoon-worthy with you. The past three classes we’ve taken have involved baby dolls. One per couple. As each class progressed, Husband would sneak the baby doll into his lap or he’d hold it in his arms. Someone’s excited to be a daddy!
Okay, back to breastfeeding. When I first got pregnant, I knew I wanted to breastfeed. I also felt totally scared and weird about it. L Bean was the size of a poppy seed, so there wasn’t much mother-son bonding going on, and I had a hard time imagining a baby on my breast. As I’ve gotten more and more pregnant, I’ve gotten more and more excited about breastfeeding. After last night’s class, I’m more excited than ever. And for the first during this pregnancy, I’m confident and FAITHFUL. Did you know the average weaning age in Europe is three years? A year ago I would have said, “UGH! No way. That’s a TODDLER.” By no means so I plan to nurse until L Bean is three, but I get it now.
I had a breastfeeding epiphany last night: If L Bean is anything like his father, he’ll be a breastfeeding champion (I won’t reveal details, but Husband weaned a bit late).