the one about all that advice

There are certain events in life that just bring out the unsolicited advice from people:  graduations, weddings, and of course…expecting a baby.

It seems that everyone wants to share what worked for them and what absolutely didn’t work–whether you want to hear it or not.

When I graduated from high school and college and grad school, I hated people’s advice.  Hated it.  No one in my family was in education, yet they all seemed to think their job-finding skills applied to my career choice area.

Oh and then there is just the career of a teacher.  Do you know how many people start their sentences with “well I hope you never teach….” or “you should for sure do ….. in your classes.”


Then Cort and I got engaged and we got so much unwanted marriage warnings advice that we both just wanted to scream.  And most of it was totally negative.  It was almost as if people didn’t want anyone else to get married.  I heard so many, “oh that will end once you are married…” statements.  And most of those things they claimed would end?  Totally didn’t.  So there.

With my first pregnancy though, I ate up ALL the advice.  I loved it…well, most of it.  I was not sure of myself at ALL in the baby department and I wanted to know about every experience.

I read all the books.   I polled every mother I know.  I subscribed by email to all the “your pregnancy” updates.

And then my birthing and new mom experience was NOTHING like ANYTHING that I had been told about.

Thank goodness I found the blogging world shortly after.

My point is, here I am, pregnant again and I am still getting a boatload of advice I didn’t ask for.  And this time it’s a little offensive.  I mean, this here is not my first rodeo.  I’ve done this being pregnant and having a baby thing.

So because it’s Monday, here are the comments/pieces of advice that make my Top Ten in terms of annoying the crap out of me:

  1. “Don’t find out what the gender of the baby is.”  I respect the crap out of  people who like to be surprised.  I do.  I just don’t like to wait.  I need to prepare.  I need to think of the baby as an actual person and not just a fetus preying on growing inside of me.  It is how I start my bonding process.  So maybe waiting was your big motivation to push or the wonderful surprise at the end of 10 months…but not for me.
  2. “Don’t decide on a name when you find out the gender!” Again, this is part of the bonding process for Cort and me.  We have our boy name and our girl name already and in two weeks when we find out?  We will announce the name too.  We feel like our baby  is officially a person that way.   I think some of it stems back from losing two babies before we knew anything about them.  This is our way of announcing that they are part of our family.
  3. “You’re going to eat that?” Yes.  shut up.
  4. “You know you can totally eat that.” Probably, yes.  But I’m not going to.  It’s what I am comfortable with.
  5. “Go ahead and have a glass of wine…”  no.
  6. …”But don’t EVER drink a diet coke!  Ack!  The poisons!”  whatever (said as I slug down a can of diet coke).
  7. “You should really be exercising more.”  Yup, you are right.  But I have work, a toddler, a husband, cooking, cleaning, and growing a baby to do.  Not much time (or energy) left for exercise.  And no, I don’t want to think about where I can squeeze it in.
  8. “I can’t believe you are considering another C-Section.” Not considering, planning on it.  Maybe I will do a post on this someday.  Maybe not.  But it’s my choice.  And my very adamantly pro-VBAC OB agrees.  As does  my therapist.  So there’s that.
  9. “You’re going to try breastfeeding this time, right?” Nope.  And I really don’t want to talk about it.  Thanks.
  10. “You really need to get Eddie in a big boy bed/ get him in his own room/ take away his pacifier/ get him potty trained/ other random things…” Right now we are doing none of these things.  We are letting Eddie develop at his own pace and not speeding or slowing anything along because of a baby.  And it’s working for our family.

**Updated to add an 11th: “Are you sure it’s safe for you to be on antidepressants while pregnant?” Well since my OB and therapist would like me to NOT be a psycho, yes.

Some day I will share my birthing “plan” with you all.  Some day I will share our choices about infant care.  For now know this:  I got this.  And if I don’t, I’ll ask.

What are some of the most annoying “tips” people gave you when you were pregnant?  Share with me.  It’s Monday, so it’s Ok to gripe.

Big Boy Steps

I spent hours folding tiny boy onsies and sorting burp clothes and bibs and receiving blankets in the nursery

I vacuumed and cleaned and vacuumed again.

I placed each item with love:  the small blue and white lined wicker basket full of board books, the giant teddy bear, the fire truck.

I set up the changing table with a soft, polka dot changing pad cover, a cozy hand-knit blanket, and a small basket filled with wipes, lotion, a tiny comb, two different thermometers, and butt cream.

I filled the diaper holder with teeny tiny swaddlers.

I read all the books out loud to my growing tummy.

I hot-glued ribbon to white wooden letters: E D D I E and hung them on tiny hooks above a perfectly made crib.

And then I put a teeny tiny baby in the room and it was a complete nursery.

Today I moved the trucks that have collected on the floor into a traffic jam-like arrangement in front of the toy box that is over-full with trains piled on top.

I put a puzzle with missing pieces on the nightstand next to the unused baby monitor.

Melissa & Doug foods were shoved under the crib and Little People were thrown into an empty diaper box in the corner.

Books have over taken the small wicker basket and are lying all over the floor and on the monkey bean bag chair.

The crib mattress is as low as it goes and now has a pillow and blankets in it like a regular bed.

All the tiny things are shoved into the closet to make room for the toddler clothes that I have to shove into the changing table drawers.

Today’s shirt and shorts are hanging out of the laundry basket where chubby toddler hands threw them when asked to put the away.

This room is not a nursery anymore.

But it’s not a Big Boy room either.

Very soon it will be time for another big step.  It will be time to pack up the toys and clothes and shoes and books and move.

To make this into a nursery again.

For the next teeny tiny baby.