After my miserable, hormonal ranting about being 40 and ultimately 41 weeks pregnant I want everyone to know that I understand how blessed I am. Truly. Now that I am removed from the tearful haze and the discomfort of 40 weeks, I am counting my blessings.

Yesterday was World Prematurity Day. One in nine babies in the US is born too soon. Read more from the March of Dimes here. Ya’ll, that is a lot of babies. I bet you know children and adults who were and are preemies. Recently I have found myself praying and thanking God over and over that my son was more than 8 lbs. of squishy sweetness, I was able to nurse him in the delivery room and he was my little APGAR rock star. Both my children were born full-term and as anxious as I was for them to make their arrival, I am SO THANKFUL for healthy pregnancies.

Last year I told you about sweet little twins, Avery and Raegan, who were born at 25 weeks, 6 days. My friend Nicole is their mother and I am so blessed to know her. She is smart and brave and has seen her family through a rough year of more hospital stays for her son, Avery. Through Nicole I have learned about the strong parents and skilled medical professionals that are in NICU’s around the world. More than anything, I learned the strength a mother has for her children and it is inspiring.

Avery and Raegan, age 3

These little miracles have exciting news! Nicole is expecting again! My heart nearly burst when I heard the news and I left an overly-excited, rambling message on her voicemail.

Me and Nicole at the March For Babies this year

Doctors don’t know why some babies are born too soon, but through research, they are learning more. Please consider donating to the March of Dimes. My awesome family and friends donated in honor of Henry for his baby showers or “sprinkles” this year. Let me know if March of Dimes is a charity you support or if there is another charity for babies people should know more about. Give for all the expectant mothers and little miracles you know.

It’s only been three years. I tried to jog my memory and remember all of the nitty gritty I had forgotten about postpartum life and having a newborn. Our son arrived a week and two days ago and there are some notable similarities and differences from Baby #1 to Baby #2.

Ouch!– I had to describe to my first-time pregnant friend what it was like physically after giving birth. I was honest. “It’s like a crime scene down there.” I felt bad. I thought she was going to cry. Well, she should know. I wish I had.

Once again, I am wrecked yo.  But, it healed up up quick last time. I was good as new. I fully expect the same this time. Fortunately, I was aware that it would take 10 minutes to go to the bathroom every time these first couple of weeks, so I was ready. Allow for bathroom time, new mothers! You’re welcome.

I’ve been thankful for Dermaplast and perineal ice packs. Greyson even made a run to the specialty pharmacy to get more of the cold pads for me. I figured out why they only give you so many at the hospital. They are $4.00 a piece! The thing is, I would have paid more. You ladies understand.

I remember some after pains or cramping when nursing after Baby #1 was born. Oh my God! This time?! Insane! It felt like contractions again. Seriously. It died down after a couple of days, but good Lord! That’s when the nurse and my mom informed me, “Oh yeah, it’s much worse with subsequent babies.” Good to know. Take note, second-timers.

The Hospital and Recorded Feedings– With Baby #1, Greyson and I hung on to the doctors and nurses’ every words. We dutifully filled out their feeding chart with time and duration of each nursing session. We kept track of each bit of meconium and consulted the lactation consultant a ridiculous four times. We both loved our nurses and thanked them a hundred times. We looked at each other and thought, “Oh my God! They’re letting us leave here with an infant. What the hell are they thinking?”

This time we didn’t write down jack. I humored one nurse, by making up some numbers. I could just tell her feeding times. I refused to write them down and continue this ritual for two weeks! With Baby #1 for two weeks I went insane recording every feeding and poop in a cute little notebook. I set the timer on the old iPhone 3GS and recorded each one. Really?! No. Not this time. Granted, I enjoyed the little notes I wrote at the end of each day about my newborn daughter’s early days, but I think it made me go a little crazy to keep those types of records. I think some Type A, detail oriented mothers would love that, but it caused me too much anxiety. Sorry. Let’s just feed the kid and move on with life. So far so good with  Baby #2. I’m just feeding him while checking Twitter on my iPhone 5 this time.

We were generally annoyed and really ready to get out of the hospital, frankly. I think every baby in the county decided to be born the same day as our son. The staff seemed busy and frazzled. Paying a higher copay than last time didn’t help our moods. We were just generally irritated by the end of our hospital stay. We enjoyed all our sweet visitors, but it was time to go!

Snip- We didn’t know if this baby was a boy or a girl, so when we saw his kibbles and bits, we had to make a decision. A circumcision decision. I wanted to make sure I understood the pros and cons of circumcision and types of circumcisions. There are different kinds. Who knew? We didn’t. Baby #1 was a girl. How would we know?

I did some research on my phone and had extensive Twitter DM conversations with some of my boy mom blogger friends. I won’t tell you what we decided because that would be discussing my son’s genitals on the Internet. Poor kid. It’s bad enough his shameless mother discusses hers.

Milk and Weight Gain– The dairy is open for business, ya’ll! This kid came out an eater. In the delivery room he was rooting around and ready to go. The milk came in faster this time. Thank God. Colostrum wasn’t cutting it. This baby wanted milk. He was born 8 lbs. 2 oz. and left the hospital 7 lbs. 13 oz. He stayed 7 lbs. 13 oz. at his two day appointment.

I am not making this up. In five days the child was up to 8 lbs. 10 oz.! The doctor had to look at the chart twice. She thought it was a typo. I’m proud of my boobs. Not gonna lie.

I remember after Charlotte was born I really had to prepare my heart and my mind to write a birth story. I know that sounds like some sappy blogger stuff, but it’s true. Relaying the story and doing it justice is a big task. The same goes for Henry’s story. I’ll get there. It won’t be long.

We’re hunkered down here in newborn land. There are warm blankets, sweet visitors, casseroles and desserts. I’ve become reacquainted with Dermaplast, nursing tank tops and all the things that make the first few weeks postpartum so…um…unique.

Mostly we’ve spent the past five days understanding what it means to be a family of four. Here is a glimpse…

Our first family of four picture in the hospital.

 Oh, my heart! They meet!

Two hours home with a big sister and he has princess stickers on. I think she likes her brother.

His name is Henry.

He has downy black hair and round cheeks. He’s warm and soft when he lays on my chest in that floppy way only newborns can. His smell is intoxicating and lovely. He joined us November 6, 2013 at 9:53 pm. 8 lbs. and 2 oz. of perfection.

We are coming together as four. It’s a new era for us and it is wonderful. We are “Somebodies Parents”. There is much more to come. Welcome.

For the second time in my life the calendar has turned to November when I was supposed to have a baby in October. I’m not making this up. I wrote this three years ago TODAY. You’ll see. I didn’t publish it until later. This time I’m letting it out.

It’s back. The darkness. The up-and-down fury. All of it.

That old familiar madness.

You would think I would have been prepared this time. I worked through my due date, which is better than last time when I worked up until 2 days before my due date. This week we went to the doctor on the 30th. My due date. I was so happy. We had worked so hard to get through this last month. Work was handed off, we dutifully took bags and the car seat and left them at daycare, ready for Grandma. We had a plan. The doctor would likely schedule an induction for the next day, we’d be home by Saturday for Charlotte’s birthday. Not this time.

I’m a fool. Once again, I am a victim of my expectations. I am an eternal optimist who assumed, wrongly, that it would work out this time and I would be as lucky as my friends who have already had their babies. Nope. Instead I remain panicky, weepy and dissolving into sobs on my closet floor like a damned psycho.

I had a friend tell me that when his wife went in to have their baby earlier this year a woman stood in the OB’s office and continued to scream until they agreed to admit her. She refused to go another week. I totally understand. I don’t judge her. Keep it up girl. Have that baby. Good for you. Get what you need from your medical professionals.

I know. I’ve heard it all. “You have to let nature take it’s course!” “Your baby is not ready.” “You have to let your body do what it needs to do.” “Another week isn’t that bad.” “You’re only two days past your due date!”

Shut the hell up. All of you. You have no idea the hormonal exhaustion of this. You think I don’t know all of that?!

My favorite thing I heard this week was, “You know, in Europe they don’t even consider induction until after 42 weeks.  Over there they have great methods of helping with natural childbirth.” Well, great! When I decide to move to Sweden and have a litter of little ex-pats born naturally in artisian Swedish pools, I’ll keep that in mind. Oh! Just to remind you, most European women have a year of paid maternity leave. I’m a working American mother and do not have that luxury. I chose a modern OB/GYN practice for a reason. This is about time. Time with my baby and money for my family.

Granted, I have been very blessed with great employers offering benefits far better than some other women get. I understand this. I’m very appreciative. But, the time I will actually get home with my newborn is very fleeting.

Wednesday the doctor informed me that a push in obstetrics is to not induce unless medically necessary. Okay, was anyone going to tell me that? I have done everything I was supposed to. Last week at 39 weeks the doctor said, “Okay, well, if you’re still pregnant next week, we’ll talk induction.” Great. I assumed that meant I’d be scheduled for the next day. She knew that is what we did last time. I lost my shit about 40 weeks and they agreed to induce me at 40 weeks 5 days. That alone, was maddening.  Waiting until 41 weeks, ridiculous. Two additional days is a lifetime. I know that’s crazy, but it is. Trust me.

People then say, “But, being induced can mean complications for your baby and a very hard labor!” Bull shit. Pitocin is a miracle drug and a blessing. Three years ago this week they started that stuff and I had my baby in about 4 hours and 35 minutes. I only pushed for the 35 minutes. Minimal tearing. Done. Easy. It was far preferable to another week of sobbing and counting vacation hours.

Due dates are the biggest crock of shit in the world. Obstetrics and meteorology are the two professions where you can predict what’s going to happen, be wrong most of the time  and still keep your job. News flash! The rest of the working world is on tight deadlines and demand accuracy. This was all fine 100 years ago. It is unacceptable in 2013. Maybe obstetrics should consider giving a “due range” instead of a “due date” if not for employers, but for the mental health of mothers.

I busted my ass this month to make it happen, to get it all done on time. I did. Now, I sit here like a damned fool with a laid out maternity leave plan and a packed bag that remains by the door. And for what?!

I asked to be checked today and the doctor explained it’s part of the hospital’s “Quality Matters” initiative not to induce until 41 weeks unless medically necessary to lower their c-section rate. Oh, you mean the c-section rate that I IN NO WAY CONTRIBUTED TO WITH MY SAFE, MEDICALLY INDUCED VAGINAL DELIVERY!? Yep, that one.

I was home yesterday and again today because I feel like crap and I can’t bring myself to show this crazy to the awesome people I work with. I’ll figure out over the weekend whether I’ll go back into the office.

This is the nitty-gritty stuff no one tells you about before you have a baby. If this psychotic rant helps another mother, maybe it will be worth it. I was praying wouldn’t be an issue this go-around. I was wrong. Oh, so wrong.

I’m here, once again relying on obstetrics and meteorology to decide my fate. There is a storm/low pressure system coming in that I can only hope will induce labor. I heard it might. But again, I’m a hormonal fool and clearly know nothing. I feel very sorry for my family and friends because I’m so awful. If I were them, I wouldn’t call or text me. Sorry. I’m just crazy.  I’d be seriously afraid of me and my madness right now. That old familiar 40 week madness.