I have a bone to pick. I have a feeling this might not be a very popular post. I’m feeling kind of snarky today for no particular reason so whatever.
I don’t have a bone to pick with anyone in particular, really. I have a bone to pick with labeling. Don’t get me wrong, some labels are important. FDA labels. Medication labels. Warning labels. GMO labels. Those kinds of things are important.
I have a problem with parenting labels. It seems to be super important for mothers to label themselves and the kind of “parenting” they parent with. There’s so many “kinds” of parenting out there, and people have some strong feelings about all of them, and I’m here to say that it’s all bullshit. The specific thing that has my goat today (though I’m not sure why) is this whole thing called “gentle parenting” or “attachment parenting.” Mothers who adhere to this idea do things like extended breastfeeding, co-sleeping, co-bathing, babywearing, not using the cry-it-out method…you get my drift. And there is nothing wrong with ANY of those things. Nothing. But why do we have to call it “gentle” parenting? So say I don’t do things like co-sleep. Does that therefore imply that I’m not a gentle parent? Or that I’m not attached to my child because I allow her to cry sometimes?
I am really tired of people carrying around this label on their shoulders like it makes them a better mother than me because I don’t let my kid sleep in the same bed. Whatever way you want to raise your child is fine. Breastfeed till age 3? Congratulations. Sleep in the same bed till they’re in kindergarten? Fine. But why does anyone feel the need to broadcast this? Why label yourself an “attachment parent?” Why label yourself anything? Here’s something I’d like to broadcast about all this, in all capital letters because I’d like you to imagine me shouting it from the top of a big soapbox:
NOBODY GIVES A FUCK HOW YOU RAISE YOUR KID.
I don’t look at a toddler and think, oh, he was raised with attachment parenting. When you get to a job interview nobody asks if your mother let you cry till you fell asleep on your own. Chances are unless you were abandoned repeatedly or fed blue meth as an infant, you’re going to turn out pretty much the same as anybody else no matter how your mother(s)/father(s) chose to parent you. My daughter is not going to go to kindergarten and seek out friends who were formula fed and form a clique that talks shit about kids who were breastfed, or vice versa. Kids don’t give a fuck about this sort of stuff, so why do we? Yeah, it’s important that YOU care and feel strongly about the choices you make, but it has no business being anyone else’s business.
Mothers need to quit wasting time worrying that other women care how they are raising their children. Because nobody does. Who has time to care? I have time to raise my child in the manner that works for me, my husband, and our daughter. My motherhood does not make me a martyr and I have nothing to prove to anyone except myself. One method of parenting is not better than the other and nobody cares that you picked one over the other. Make your choices, raise your family, and shut up.
But one more thing, while I’m at it. Since I’m already up on this soapbox. Since my follower count is already dropping anyway. Can we do away with the pictures of the baby eating with the edge of your boob in the picture? I get it, you’re proud to breastfeed. Breastfeeding is cool. But do we need shitloads of pictures of it and your boobs?
You may now return to your regularly scheduled Friday.
This is a post about breastfeeding. Pass it over if you feel so inclined.
The first night Caroline and I spent in the hospital after her birth was tough. Really tough. Cameron and my mom went home to rest because we thought, well, they’re only 2 blocks away, and more than likely the baby will sleep most of the night anyway since that’s what she’d been doing all day. That’s what babies do their first few days, they sleep. I had the nurse there for support, we figured it was a decent solution to allowing some of us to get some sleep. The second Cameron left the hospital, Caroline started wailing. And she pretty much never stopped the whole night. I held her, I cuddled her, I walked around the room with her, I changed her and I tried to feed her, pretty much my entire arsenal of things I knew how to do less than 24 hours into my career as a mother. The nurse would come in occasionally probably to make sure that I wasn’t passed out in the bed ignoring her because she was crying for so long. She helped me re-swaddle her and gave me a different binkie to try and checked her to make sure her temperature was okay. Because my milk wasn’t in yet, feeding her was still a challenge, but boy did I try. All night long. When she first came out at only 5lbs3oz, we were instructed to feed her every 2 hours on the dot, which I did (or attempted) dutifully and happily. It was the first sign for me that breastfeeding was going to be a challenge, but I was still too tired (and too hopeful that it was just “the first night”) to read the writing on the wall.
The next morning when the pediatrician came in to do a checkup on her, instead of being told that she was doing well and we could go home that day, he told me that she had lost 9% of her birth weight in little over 24 hours. She had dropped all the way to 4lbs11oz which is preemie, might need to go to the NICU territory. In case you’re not familiar with what’s considered normal, doctors expect babies to lose about 10% of their birth weight in a week before they start gaining again. Naturally this was a little distressing, but not the end of the world, and the doctor told me that he wanted us to stay an extra day to make sure she could put some weight back on. I held it together till he left the room and then immediately started bawling in front of the nurses who, bless them, were very supportive. I was overtired, physically exhausted, hormonally overloaded, and alone–Cameron was still on his way over with coffee. Most of all I was worried about my baby. Since I was still only producing colostrum at that point, the nurses said we would try to supplement her with some formula so that she could get a few extra calories out of every feeding and that when I could, I would pump to try and help bring the milk in. We fed her formula by syringe at first, and then the nurse whipped out a supplemental nutrition system, basically a supply line that fed formula into the corner of her mouth while I was nursing so that we were killing two birds with one stone–she was nursing and helping bring in the milk AND getting some extra calories. Luckily, the next day when the doctor came in to look at Caroline, she had gained back 5 whole ounces–he’d expected one at the most, so this was extremely encouraging, and he allowed her to be discharged that day.
The next few days were a struggle as my body adjusted to nursing and milk production. On top of the super painful nipples every time she latched on, my milk came in so crazy fast I was engorged almost immediately and spent a good 2 or 3 days in severe pain that left me crying pretty much every time she nursed. Once at three in the morning I got up and had to put hot washcloths on my chest just to get some relief. I also have an overactive node or gland or something under one of my armpits near where the milk ducts are, something that has been an annoyance pretty much all my post-puberty life, and when my milk came in, this thing swelled up to the size of a chicken egg and stayed rock hard for three days. Misery. Pure misery. I remember at one point saying to Cameron that if this was going to continue, there was no way I’d be able to breastfeed for an entire year.
Since then the engorgement has gone down (thank goodness) but breastfeeding has still been a challenge pretty much every day. Caroline is gaining plenty of weight and in fact is surpassing the doctor’s expectations–at her last appointment she weighed around 7lbs8oz–so that’s good, but pretty much every nursing is a complete crapshoot and could go one of two ways: perfectly fine, or completely terrible. I have occasional oversupply and a near constant overactive letdown, and if you’ve ever experienced that you know how frustrating it can be. One of the lactation nurses at the hospital told me it was “a good problem to have” and I wanted to ask if she was kidding me. I know that it’s probably preferable to having low supply or some other issues, but in no way is it a “good problem to have.” It’s a miserable, horrible problem to have and I think it’s the one thing that’s contributing the most to my baby blues, more so than the colic even.
Here’s a basic rundown of how nursing goes. If it’s a good session, she feeds for 5-7 minutes on one side and that’s all. I offer the second side but usually she is not interested and I end up having to pump. Her doctor says that because she is so efficient at nursing and gaining so much weight that this really isn’t an issue, so I figure I’ll take it. If it’s a bad session, it’ll go something like this: I put Caroline to the breast. She latches on perfectly and nurses calmly till the letdown happens, which I can sense because both my nipples feel like they have binder clips clamped onto them for about 10 seconds. I can also tell it’s happening because it’s at that point that the baby starts choking and gagging and unlatches, then starts to scream. Then let’s not forget the milk that ends up everywhere because I have turned into a garden hose with no valve. The crying and constant latching/unlatching means two things: Caroline is not eating, and she’s swallowing air which is giving her gas and contributing to the colic–and usually it means she ends up spitting up whatever milk she did get in the first place. It’s a horrible cycle and gives me miserable anxiety pretty much every time I have to feed her. I’ve tried just about everything that’s been suggested by the lactation consultants and that I can find online, so no advice please, and in any case nothing that I’ve been trying is working. When we get really desperate we decide to pump and bottle-feed her for a few weeks until she can handle the amount or my body regulates, but usually by a few hours into this plan I end up so miserable that I put her back to the breast again because I can’t stand the bottle (not to mention she doesn’t love it either, so bottle-feeding sessions are usually just as stressful as nursing). It’s just not the same and let’s face it, issues aside nursing is just easier than bottle-feeding especially late at night. I don’t have to keep track of pumping all the time and I don’t have to spend time heating up a bottle, I can just feed her. Or try to, at least.
Still, it’s been hard. Really hard. We usually get in a pattern of having a good few days and then a regression happens and she will go back to having problems again. The problem for me is that my brain sees a cause-and-effect pattern: I feed her, and she immediately cries, which means I’m not doing a good job. I know it’s not rational and I know I have little control over the issue, but it’s not easy to cope with. It also means that she is not eating enough to get a full stomach in one sitting, so she still at nearly 6 weeks old sleeps maybe 3 hours at a time, and most days I end up feeling chained to the couch because she has to eat a little all the time instead of eating a lot occasionally. And naturally this snowballs into a lot of other issues that have been hard to cope with, the baby blues chief among them. I guess I thought by now something would have “clicked” and we would have figured it all out and gotten into a pattern, or something. All the people I know who recently had babies say their little one is giving them 4-6 hours of sleep at night and everything is going fine, but I’m still up with her pretty much all night, sleeping in a different bed from Cameron because it’s too hard for us to both be awake all night long, and I’m getting more and more frustrated and upset every day. It’s exhausting when something you spend so much time of your day doing doesn’t go well. I have days where I want to give up breastfeeding altogether because why spend so much time being miserable, and others when the idea makes me break down because I need that time with my little girl and the idea of doing anything else means I’ve failed (again, not a rational idea, but it occurs to me anyway.)
Anyway, as we approach Caroline’s 6-week birthday all I can hope (and hope and hope and hope) is that maybe we’ll turn a corner soon and breastfeeding will become easier, because at this point I don’t see it lasting nearly as long as I’d hoped because there’s simply no way I can continue like this. And that makes me desperately sad. Still, most everyone we’ve talked to say that the first 6 weeks are the hardest and it does, despite all odds, get better after that. So I have my fingers crossed, because at this point it’s really about all I can do.
Everybody now: rip-roaring cries of sweet sweet jubilation!
Of course, what this really means, more importantly than the crawlspace being dry at last, is that I finally get my washing machine and my dryer back. Sure, sure, we probably could have rigged the setup to co-exist with the pump a while ago, but I just knew that if we took the time to set it all back up again, something would happen and we’d need to move it all back out of the way again (it’s a pretty tight space) to get to the pump in an emergency, such as overloading the drainage pipes with the pump water and the washing machine drainage. And, since I am of little help being the size I am (and unable to lift much) it didn’t seem very smart to try to get it all back into place and working again with just the two of us.
On Friday, though, I noticed that I hadn’t heard the pump in a while. Over the last 6 weeks or so it has gone from pumping constantly down to three or four gallons a minute down to a few cups every so often, so we knew it was finally starting to dry out, but on Friday afternoon I didn’t hear it at all. Of course I worried about a burnout and wanted to check to make sure nothing was backing up, but I couldn’t fit between the wall and the washing machine to get to it…womp. Cameron gave it a check when he got home and it all looked fine. By Saturday, the only thing we could hear was the auto-check hum every minute or so that it does to make sure there’s nothing to suck up. My parents were also visiting, and my mom crawled back there and stuck a flashlight in the hole and declared that the ground was, in fact, totally dry. So, since we had two extra able bodies, we (they) finagled the washer and dryer back into place, shoved the drainage hose down the same pipe where the pump has been dumping into (so that we can keep it running just in case) and voila. I finally have a working washer and dryer.
I was so excited that I could do laundry on a whim whenever I wanted or needed that I immediately threw my big fuzzy blanket into the wash, since it had been a while. (And that night I slept great wrapped up in my soft, fuzzy, nice-smelling blanket…coincidence?) Later that night my mom and I also de-tagged and sorted all the baby’s clothing and blankies and finally washed them (yay!), and got them all organized and ready to go.
It’s amazing how much more normal things feel when you can just do your damn laundry whenever you need to and you don’t have to cart it out to the laundromat. I feel so much better. Ahhh.
I suppose I should take this time to make a general disclaimer also known as TMI Alert. I’m gonna talk about some gross stuff you might not wanna hear about regarding labor and delivery as we get closer to having this baby. If you’re not interested in reading it, turn away now.
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Thursday night, I thought Caroline was really taking our doctor seriously when he said it could be “any day now.” I went up to the bathroom after dinner and discovered this huge blob of brown mucus and I was like woah, okay. What the hell is that doing there? I called Cameron up to come look at it and we were both like “Did Dr K say that was okay? Or should we call the triage nurse? I think he said brown was okay. I don’t remember.” I know I had read that sometimes the mucus plug comes out weeks before labor begins, but at 36 weeks? Really? So, just to be safe we called and the delivery nurse called me back a few minutes later and when I described to her what had happened she said, cool as a cucumber, “Yep, that sounds like a mucus plug.” So I was a little bit like, okay…is that normal? And she said it was, sometimes it comes out early and you re-grow part of one or not, but it doesn’t mean you’re about to go into labor. She said the only thing that would be cause for concern is if my water broke, or there was bleeding, or if contractions began in earnest. And, since I have an appointment Thursday, she said to just keep it and talk to the Dr then unless anything else happens before then.
So, yeah. Fun. Since then I’ve really had this feeling that this baby is going to come early and most likely nowhere near my EDD. I’m confident that everything will be fine (especially since this week we hit that “magical” 37-weeks point) and frankly I’m excited for something to happen now. What happened Thursday night left me with this mildly surreal feeling, sort of like, oh yeah. So it IS going to happen sometime soon. I was just beginning to think I was going to be of a whale-like proportion forever. And naturally now I’m stupidly impatient for something REAL to happen. I keep finding myself looking to the animals for cues, since they generally know when these sorts of things are going to happen. This morning Whiskey came into the bedroom and laid down right next to my head and was being strangely cuddly and pleasant (normally he ignores my presence altogether), so I began to wonder if he sensed something was about to happen. As it turned out, he was just trying to butter me up so that I wouldn’t be mad when I discovered the pizza box he knocked on the floor overnight. Hmm.
I suppose we’ll go back to more of the waiting game in the meantime!
It should come as no surprise that one of the greatest things I cherish is the value of good books. My library is very special to me and I am definitely one of those people who will pick up MORE books even if I haven’t finished the one (or six) I’ve already spent time reading. When Borders went out of business (sniff) I haunted that place like a bad case of fleas and I probably ended up taking home a couple hundred dollars worth of books to add to my library. I love books! (Don’t get me wrong, I love my Kindle too, but there’s just something awesome about real, solid books. A lot of times I’ll buy a book on my Kindle and then buy it again in hard copy because I feel like it needs to grace my shelves.) I can’t wait to pass on my love of reading and exploring to my daughter.
Last night some wonderful friends of mine threw me and Caroline a second baby shower because nobody was able to make it to the first after the flood. What a fun time! We laughed and played games and I think the whole thing was especially therapeutic because there just haven’t been that many chances to let loose and be silly and laugh amongst friends since the flood. We specified that there should be no gifts, but naturally there were, though I was pleased that the majority of them were….books! Caroline is well on her way to a wonderful library and I am so excited!
And though I forgot to take pictures, everyone decorated blank bibs, onesies and socks for Caroline which I thought was just the cutest. I also got a basket of bath goodies, because everyone knows Mommy needs to be pampered too. And a 2-year subscription to Parents (Parenting?) magazine! We had such a fun time and had some great food (one of the girls made a pumpkin spice cake with maple cinnamon frosting, OM NOM NOM) and played games…including one where you had to place a large potato between your knees and waddle over to a glass jar on the floor and deposit the potato inside. It was hysterical. Mostly I was glad to have some time to spend with friends, a few of whom I hadn’t seen for quite some time. Caroline will be well loved indeed!
Ah, yes. The magic words every pregnant woman wants to hear, when she’s late in the third trimester and can’t turn over in bed without looking so much like a breeching whale that David Attenborough is knocking at the door hoping to film a documentary on a new species. If you’ve been there, you know exactly what words I’m talking about.
“Could be any day now.”
Sweet hallelujah! There IS a light at the end of this tunnel, even if I can’t actually FIT in said tunnel. Have I mentioned according to my dr’s records I’ve put on 41 pounds since March? Mmmyep. If that doesn’t make a girl feel good I don’t know what does. Pretty soon I will be squeezing into these puppies:
Anyway, Dr. said the magic words yesterday at our 36 week check. Now, don’t get me wrong, he said it more as an overall “yep, it might happen” rather than an “expect to go into labor right now.” Just a way of saying, yep, it’s almost that time so don’t freak out in case it does. Obviously, we want Caroline to continue incubating as long as possible, so please don’t think I’m chomping at the bit to have her out tomorrow or that I’m going to start thinking of myself as overdue. I know it’s important for her to bake a little longer. I’m only mostly joking. Nevertheless, it is good to hear from the doctor that he’s confident that if she did come, more than likely everything would be just fine.
That being said…do I STILL really have 4 weeks left till my EDD? Fuck me! (However, Dr did say that babies do tend to be born earlier and somewhat smaller than average up here, I’m assuming due to altitude or barometric pressure or thin air or a preponderance of unicorn farts or something scientific like that. Who knows. But maybe it’s true and it won’t be 4 more full weeks. Fingers crossed.)
After giving me the mother of all horrible internal checks (seriously it was awful), Dr declared she is still head down, growing according to schedule, and her heartbeat is slowing down to a good rate. I’m even a tiny bit dilated! Not like that means much at this point but hey, makes me feel good that my body is responding in roughly the way it is supposed to. I also had my Strep-B culture done and thankfully do not need another internal exam until closer to the due date thankyoubabyjesusbecausethatsucks. So that being said, full steam ahead on the Let’s Get This Show on the Road Train.
Caroline’s newest trick, by the way? Planting both feet firmly on my ribs ALL. NIGHT. LONG. I am seriously (as in, not even joking) beginning to bruise on my ribs. When I sit up I can feel one or both of her feet pop around the edges of my ribs and Jesus Fuck does that hurt! This morning I almost could not sit up to get out of bed. Please, please, please drop soon. Please.
Oh, and on the subject of dropping. I have had a virtual crew of complete strangers (you know, people you’ve never met before) look at me and say “Wow, you’ve dropped!” I just give them this look like yeah, tell that to my bruising ribs and my inability to breathe when I lie down. If I hear one more stranger tell me I’ve dropped, I’m gonna drop my palm on their face.
Oh, we booked a “babymoon”! Or, more like… “last date with the two of us not involving a babysitter.” We were sort of planning on doing that last night, because several months ago I bought tickets to see The Book of Mormon in Denver. But, since getting off Isle Estes these days is sort of a pain we would have had to make an overnight out of it, bring the dog with us, stay at my parents’ house, come back early or take time off work, yadda yadda. It had just become a pain, so we sent the tickets to my parents as a birthday present for my mom instead. I was bummed, but happy that they apparently loved it.
So, instead, we are going down next Saturday to see a show in Denver and stay at a nice hotel overnight, since we won’t have to rush to get back home. It’ll be our last chance to chill out together, just the two of us, and be out of Estes for a little while…probably for the last time until the baby comes and/or the roads open up, whichever happens first. (My guess is baby.)
Part of my “postpartum goodie bag” package arrived from Walmart last night. (I was hoping it would be my new pair of boots, but no dice. Just part of the Christmas morning-like joy of doing all our shopping online these days.) Oooh yes, definitely getting close now. Because nothing screams “you are either getting ready to have a baby or perform surgery on a small animal” like a box full of giant thunderpads, stool softeners, witch hazel wipes and doggie tinkle pads. My Depends and granny panties are still on backorder. Shucks.
…and now you have that song stuck in your head, dontcha? Dontcha? Well at the very least I do…
First snow! Measurable one, anyway. We’ve had a couple dustings so far but nothing major. I think our first snow last year was pretty late, so it’s exciting to see the snow making a more seasonable appearance this year. I know it seems crazy after the floods and all, but we really do need the moisture, because we will dry out pretty fast as conditions return to normal, so as weird as it sounds to say we need the moisture, we do.
Anyway, we are finally in “final countdown mode” as we move into 4-5 weeks till Sweet Caroline can be expected. Still feels impossibly far away, but maybe that’s just because I am in so much discomfort that anything more than a day sounds far away. I am so ready to be able to walk normally again…
We are pretty much finished with the nursery, with the exception of getting a border up (which could end up being such a pain I might just finish the painting and forget about the border) on the wall. I’m overall pretty pleased with it, though I do wish I had a *tiny* bit more floor space. Oh well.
We have all of her outfits hung in the closet and all of her sleepers, swaddle pods, and blankies in the dresser, along with a whole drawer I’m using as a staging area for diapers and extra wipes. I’m using the bed and the dresser as the command station for diaper changes. We got a box of 650 wipes AND a box of 900 wipes, so I think we will be more than set on those for quite some time. I have a decent stash of diapers going; I didn’t want to buy too many of one kind in the event that she doesn’t fit, doesn’t like them, any of those contingencies. I decided not to start cloth diapering till 8-10 weeks and since I don’t have any cloth diapers already and don’t have a way to get any except ordering them, I decided it wasn’t worth the extra effort to stock up just yet. Hopefully by the time she is ready for them, a road will be open and I can go buy them in person. Just something about ordering them online without seeing them makes me nervous since they are so pricy. I’m committed to cloth diapering, but it’s just hard to get a hold of a decent stash right now and I don’t want to half-ass it….no pun intended.
About the last thing I have to do before she comes is wash all of her clothes, sheets, blankies…but unfortunately I still don’t have my washing machine in use yet (it’s killing me) and I’d rather not use the laundromat for those since the dryers there are so intense I don’t want anything to shrink. Really crossing my fingers we will be able to shut off the pump soon or at least figure out a way to configure both to run at the same time.
The other final piece we were waiting on was the car seat/carrier/stroller, and that arrived yesterday courtesy of my parents. Hooray! Step one was figuring out how to unfold the damn stroller…I really think they should give you that as a test to see if you are allowed to be parents.
After roughly 10 minutes of trying to figure out where the “parent tray” (also known as Baby Walk Latte Cupholder Area) was, we were finally able to unfold the frame and then it took another 5 minutes to decipher the little drawings to find where the plastic insert that holds up the basket underneath went! So complicated, and the instructions were not helpful whatsoever. The rest of it went pretty quickly though and not long after we had passed the test and were allowed to receive our parenting licenses. Woohoo!
(If you’re curious, the setup is a Chicco Cortina Travel System in Martini…apparently Consumer Reports’ #1 best buy for safety and convenience in travel systems…yay us!)
We still have to get the car seat base installed, which means I have to first clean up my car (murr) and then I think we’ll bring it by the police station since they’ll (I think) install it for free, and then we don’t have to worry if it’s done incorrectly or not. I can’t decide if we should buy another base to put in Cameron’s car. They are not cheap ($85!) and I just wonder if it’s really worth the extra inconvenience of trading cars if one of us needs to take the baby or whatever. Guess we can decide once we determine exactly how much of an inconvenience it turns out to be.
Ooh, I am also set for babywearing. We have an Ergo with an infant insert, but I really wanted a wrap too because it just seemed easier especially if I want to carry her around the house or she wants to be held a lot. I had originally planned on getting a Moby, but after numerous other recommendations and reading it looked like Baby K’Tan was the way to go, so I splurged and bought one for myself. Super cool! It looks to be fairly easy, has a variety of ways to wear it, and looks pretty cute too. (And it’s in a neutral color so Cameron can wear it too.) I had to use poor Bambi as a test dummy again because I didn’t think the cat would appreciate it. (We also used a gallon of milk to test the weight…we are nothing if not thorough product testers.)
I just wanted to touch base and let you know that you officially have a window for joining us earthside on this amazing planet. I don’t want to rush you or anything, since I know it’s probably a scary idea and you’ll probably be nervous, but I just wanted to let you know that I purchased an outfit for your very first Thanksgiving. And, well, I suppose it would be really nice if you could wear it because I’m pretty sure you’d look stinking cute in it. Also, I know you won’t exactly get to enjoy it quite the same way, but Thanksgiving is an awesome holiday. It’s almost as cool as Christmas!
Now, I don’t want you to think that you should just rush things and come out at any time. According to the doctors you’re not scheduled to be delivered till the 21st or so, but please don’t think that’s a hard and fast date. If you want to come a little earlier, that’s cool too. Personally I think it would be cool if you joined us during the full moon, but that’s just me. Just don’t think that’s an open-ended invitation. See, your MeMe (that’s grandma) wanted to make sure that she didn’t become a MeMe until after her 50th birthday, which is November 6. She said she doesn’t mind sharing it with you if you really wanted, but make sure you don’t come before then. (She might get a little grumpy.)
So that’s your window of delivery, sweet thing. And I know it would be nice if you came before Thanksgiving, but if you don’t get around to it, that’s okay too, just don’t take too much longer because then the Doctor will MAKE you come out and nobody wants that, especially you. Trust me. But if you could just think about how cute you’re going to look in that outfit for Thanksgiving, that might give you some motivation. (Plus, I’ll be real with you, sweet thing, Mommy really wants a nice glass of wine guilt-free on Thanksgiving.)