She Crawled Back In!

You know what I think? I think she crawled back in deeper this morning. I woke up with the distinct feeling of a bum being pressed up against my ribs, really hard. I think she doesn’t want to come out.

I went to bed thinking positive thoughts. Toby went on and on last night about how mysterious hormones are and how sometimes you can affect them with your thoughts. We both agreed that was a pretty new-agey idea but we spent the last four years trying to get pregnant and more mysterious theories have been contemplated. Toby said if I was stressing out about bright florescent lit hospital rooms and scary sharp needles and cold clinical doctors then maybe the baby was picking up my bad mojo thoughts and maybe that was hindering the natural hormone process.

So I went to bed with thoughts of opening flowers and butter melting and lots of good happy cheery warm receptions with hot chocolate and apple pie…. I drifted off to sleep with the feeling that I was opening up every lock in my body…


I dreamt the I was in a horror movie! There were a bunch of us stuck in some kind of haunted house and we were all trying to get out of this house that was eating us with it’s walls! What kind of crazy dream is that? The doors and windows were all locked and we were all trying to cut ourselves out through the walls with machetes and hack saws. But the further we hacked into the sheet rock and insulation, the more skeletons of others who’d tried to escape we’d find! It was terrible! If my thoughts can trigger hormones to release, then that dream will probably scare her back in until February!

And sure enough, at my doctor’s appointment today, the doctor said there was absolutely no progress. None, zip, nada.

Cats vs. Baby

I’m having a battle with my cats. They think the baby’s room is their new special room. I’m constantly shooing them out of the crib, out of the stroller, off the changing pad (until I gave in and just covered it with a special cat towel) and off the soft fuzzy blankets that they just love to knead their sharp claws into. The cats have no idea that all this new stuff is not for them. They’ve always been my babies up until now, why wouldn’t it be for them? I am the one who saves boxes just so they can sleep in them afterall.

I’m particularly worried about this because Toby was born with pretty severe allergies to mold and pet dander. He had to be rushed to the hospital a few times when he was a kid and almost died because his lungs seized up and he couldn’t breath. He still has breathing problems today and only tolerates the cats because deep down he is big-time-softie-animal-lover and he’d rather wheeze and cough than not have them around.

Naturally, I’m worried that my baby is going to take after Toby.

I’m not a bit allergic. In fact, when I was born my mom’s cat also had a litter of kittens at the same time. Guess where they slept? In my crib with me, of course! All seven of them. (Actually I don’t remember how many there were but seven sounds like a good number.) So I come by this cat loving business naturally. I’ve had cats all my life. My motto has always been: love me, love my cat’s hair. It’s just a fact of life. If you want to be my friend, you’d better invest in a tape roller.

So far I’ve been able to keep the cats out of the crib by pretending I’m having a fit and making all kinds of scary noises when they jump in. But the other night, Lily discovered the buggaboo stroller and inside was a freshly laundered super soft fuzzy hand knitted blanket. Ohhhh… she was in kitty heaven, purring away like a locomotive. She was so cute all curled up on the soft green blanket, it actually pained me to have to heave her out. But I have to. I just can’t take chances.

Since then I’ve barricaded the top of the stroller with my diaper bag and blankets. It’s really cramping my Bren Shui style to have to drape blankets all over everything. The bassinet in our bedroom looks like a giant swamp monster with a quilt draped over the top. But you gotta do what you gotta do and I have a feeling this battle is far from over.

I know all you cat-haters out there are slapping your hand against your forehead saying, “Well, duh!!! Close the door to the baby’s room!” or “Kick the dumb cat outside where vermin belong!” Maybe we will have to do that at some point. But right now I’m just praying my daughter takes after me. (And yes, I’m going to discuss the matter up with my doctor tomorrow at my weekly appointment. Unless of course I end up in the hospital having the baby! That’s my dream: I go to the doctors and they say, “Sorry, you’re not going anywhere today…”)