A Boy and his Daddy.

"Hospital" Photos

We didn't like the photos they took of Jacob at the hospital, so we had our own little photo shoot at home. Here are some of my favorites:

Active inside. Active outside. Great double chin shot.
I love his eyes.
Our bundle of joy.

Jacob Grant Rasmuson

Born June 5, 2008 at 1:41 pm

8 pounds, 7 ounces, 20 inches

Our favorite features:

baggy cheeks, double chin, smushed nose

Grace's thougths: "Why does he have cute little ears?"

Answer: "Because everything on him is cute and little."

Feeding the Ducks

Have I mentioned how happy I am that Grace gets to grow up so close to her cousins? I had a cousin growing up (“A” cousin. As in one.), but I rarely saw him. I just think cousins are the greatest thing. What could be better than having the fun of a sibling you don’t actually have to live with?

Well, the other day Tasha, Molly, and I took the kids to the pond to feed the ducks. Here’s Grace, William, and Brooklyn climbing on the rail at the bridge. I watched Grace there and began to imagine her getting too confident with her footing and falling into the nasty, mucky water filled with duck crap and icky fish that look so big sometimes I think they'll eat the ducks. I knew if she did I would be half a second behind her. (The things we would do for our kids.) Then I realized that if that actually happened, and if the water was over my head (I really don’t know if it is or not), Tasha would probably have to jump in and save both of us because I don’t swim very well when I’m weighed down with a pregnant belly. Good thing no one fell in.

More Fun Photos with Grace

Being Pregnant

Well, I have two days to go and I’ll be done with this second pregnancy. I cant describe how thrilled I am. I had my little sister, Emma, take some pictures of the belly before it's gone.

My first pregnancy with Grace was much easier than this one has been. I seriously don’t understand how so many women LOVE to be pregnant. Personally, having to pee every hour, uncontrollable flatulence, not being able to sleep because no position is comfortable no mater how many pillows are packed around me, and swelling up like a balloon are not enjoyable things for me. With Grace it was also hard because I was working full time up until a few weeks before I delivered. I worked for Marriott in a call center, and sitting in a chair 8 hours a day while you are pregnant makes for a very sore back. I went to a physical therapist and they told me to sit on one of those donuts. That was really fun. Plus, I experienced a whole lot of chest pain with that pregnancy. Because of my heart health history, I was actually hospitalized for a few days to make sure it wasn’t anything serious. It turned out to just be more swelling and apparently scar tissue is pretty sensitive. Honestly, though, I enjoyed being in the hospital more that I enjoyed being at work.

So with this second pregnancy, I’ve experienced all those wonderful typical pregnancy symptoms again with a few new and exciting ones. First, I never really got back in shape after having Grace. Shame, shame, shame on me. Seriously, because everything hurts a whole lot worse and a whole lot earlier in the pregnancy when you are not in very good shape. And best of all, if you are overweight before you get pregnant you are more like to develop: gestational diabetes! Okay, so most every woman is routinely tested for this around the 28th week of pregnancy. You drink a sweet dink then get your blood tested. With Grace, I was fine. No such luck with this pregnancy. So what does it mean to have gestational diabetes? Let me tell you.

First, you have to go in for additional testing. That first test doesn’t really diagnose the diabetes. It’s just a screening. So I got to go in to the hospital one day after fasting for so many hours and have your blood drawn. (Now I hate needles. With a passion.) Oh, and they check your urine too. Then I got to drink another one of those drinks, only slightly more concentrated with glucose. (Interpretation: nasty.) Then I got to wait in the waiting room for an hour, then have my blood drawn and urine tested again. Repeat that two more times for a grand total of three plus hours, four blood draws, and four urine tests and you have a Glucose Tolerance Test.

So I won’t go into details too much, but I was seriously stressed out about being diagnosed with this. I called a dozen times to get my results, but was told I had to wait until my next OB appointment to find out from my doctor. Well, I didn’t get to see my doctor at my next appointment. There were some changes going on in my doctor’s office, they were losing a doctor and were in the process of finding a new one, so my doctor was doubled up with patients, and I got to see a substitute doctor. He was horrible. I asked him about my results and he said I was fine. (I had him give me my numbers and did some research on my own, and I thought my numbers were not okay.) So I called and left a message for my doctor about my concerns. Her nurse called me back and again reassured me that I was fine. Well, four weeks later at my next appointment when I actually saw my doctor again, she looked at my test results and diagnosed me with gestational diabetes. Let’s just say I was a little more than irritated about the whole thing.

Now starts the really fun stuff. First I get to meet with a diabetes specialist who sets me up with a meter and testing supplies. I have to poke my finger and test my blood sugar every morning when I first wake up and 2 hours after every meal. I keep a journal for about a week then meet with her again. She tells me my numbers are not good, but I will probably be able to control the diabetes with diet alone rather then medication (aka. Insulin shots). I don’t know which would have been worse. So now I’m pretty much put on the Atkins diet. Count carbohydrates. Carbs raise your blood sugar. And guess what foods are carbs. First, my staple: milk. Plus grains, pastas, fruits, and of course sweets. All the things I love to eat, especially when I am having pregnancy cravings. I have never been on a diet before. And I could not believe how much my mood was affected by what I ate. For the first few weeks I got so depressed and grouchy. Pretty much the only things that are okay to eat are vegetables and proteins. I’m not a very big meat eater either. I’m no vegetarian, and I enjoy the occasional carnivorous meal, but that’s it. I just felt hungry all the time. I actually lost weight too. Oh, and my mother made me the most delicious birthday cake I have ever had (zucchini cake with cream cheese frosting), but I could only have the teensy tiniest piece.

And finally, for the past several weeks I go in to the doctor twice a week to monitor the baby. It is supposed to be a basic 20-minute NST (non-stress test) but my baby just doesn’t respond the way he is supposed to, so I am usually there for at least 3 hours each time. So that’s been this pregnancy. Am I ready for it to be over? YES. I just hope the diabetes goes away. I guess it doesn’t for some women. Plus, once you’ve had it, you are more likely to develop it in subsequent pregnancies. I wish it wasn’t so hard to make babies.

Motherly Instincts?

Why is it that mothers are so affected by their children’s cries? Well, I know the answer to that. I know that we are biologically engineered to have an instinctive desire to care for and protect our offspring. But what about whining? Why is it that I feel so bothered deep down inside whenever Grace whines? Even when it is annoying and stressing me out, and even when I know it is about something ridiculous? For example, tonight she doesn’t want to go to bed. I know she’s not hurt. I fed her dinner, so I know she’s not hungry. Her diaper is dry. She is totally okay, but I still feel this sense of frantic motherly instincts whirling up inside me when she starts to cry, “I don’t want to go to bed! I want Mommy! I’m just sad! I want more milk! Mom, I’m sad! I want a song!” (Some of these things she is actually crying out at this very moment.) Whatever her reason or excuse is, the story is still the same. I can see the manipulation trying to work its way with me, and I know that whatever I do, I should not give in. But regardless of that, my heart is still slightly shattered each and every time by the utter devastation in her pathetic voice. Sometimes I get this crazy (and I really mean crazy) urge to just go get her out of her bed, bring her into my room, cuddle her under my blankets and let her nurse. (Yeah, the nursing thing is particularly weird, especially since I’m not lactating at the moment.) I think the Super Nanny would tell me I need therapy.