tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2679021083475148182024-02-06T20:59:04.098-06:00Our FamilyAll about my life as mom...Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.comBlogger53125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-22080837324275795542012-11-30T10:22:00.001-06:002012-11-30T10:23:25.931-06:0032 1/2 Weeks... Trying to Stay on TrackSo here's a quick rundown:<br />
How far along: 32 1/2 weeks<br />
Feeling: generally good<br />
Symptoms: nothing unexpected... shortness of breath (baby feet in your lungs will do that), hip aches/pain, low abdominal/round ligament pain, fatigue<br />
Weight Gain: Holding steady at about 26 (significantly less than with G at this point)<br />
<br />
My GD condition:<br />
Gestational Diabetes that is... at my 28 week checkup I had the rapid glucose tolerance test and failed miserably (meaning my body isn't producing insulin correctly because of a hormone produced by the placenta. Thus, I'm also not processing glucose correctly which = high blood sugar = baby being "over nourished" and growing too big = increased risk of repeat c-section = something we are trying hard to avoid). So, the following week I got to go in for the long glucose tolerance test, and again, failed miserably. I'm a pregnant glucose processing failure. I had already started on a "low carb" diet in efforts to minimize baby's (and my) weight gain all while making sure I still get enough to eat and enough of the right stuff. I went to a class and now am on a strict healthy eating plan and am testing blood sugar 4 times daily to make sure I'm not eating too much "sugar" (i.e. carbs) at once. My focus is veggies, lean protein, a little fruit, and a sprinkling of low fat dairy and high fiber whole grains. Now all I need is the willpower to do what I'm supposed to do. Sweets are bad. Sweets are bad. Sweets are bad. Maybe if I say it enough eventually I will stop wanting them.<br />
<br />
I did really well the first few days, completely fell off the wagon over Thanksgiving week, but am now trying hard to be back on track this week. It's not too terrible. I eat three moderate sized meals and three moderate sized snacks per day so it's not usually a hunger issue. The hardest part is choosing the right things at the right time of day. I don't have actual calorie restrictions, but what I do have to be careful of is my non-carb calories. For example, a dozen eggs and a pound of bacon (not that I could physically consume that much) wouldn't really affect my blood sugar, but it would affect our weight gain. It's all a delicate balance. Salad = good. Too much dressing negates good salad. If I can get some really good habits in place before the Christmas holiday I think I'll make it through ok... we'll see. Wish me luck!Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-9212771392003052192012-11-28T21:01:00.000-06:002012-11-28T21:01:01.329-06:00Conversations with a two-year-oldWhile riding in the car...<br />
<br />
Garner, in the backseat by himself, talking to toy Thomas the train:<br />
What say Thomas?<br />
Ok.<br />
Mommy! Thomas watch Chuggington!... Peeeeeaaaaasssseeee.<br />
Me: Thomas wants to watch Chuggington?<br />
G: Yup. Thomas say, "Peeeease, mama.", he say "PEEASEE".<br />
Me: well, in that case...<br />
<br />
<br />
At some unholy early hour in the morning, in my bed...<br />
<br />
G: Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?<br />
Me: What, baby?<br />
G: Oh, pretty mommy...<br />
Me: huh?<br />
G: Narner need eat, mommy. Need candy.<br />
Me: (in my head) sheesh.. suck up.<br />
<br />
<br />
Everyday is a new adventure.... :)Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-36445558708718705892012-11-08T10:57:00.000-06:002012-11-08T10:57:55.722-06:00You Know You're a Mom...You know you're a mom when:<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>you're kid is on the verge of expelling something from some orifice (puke, poop, snot, etc.) and you instinctively lunge towards him to attempt to "catch" it rather than jumping out of the way like the normal human reaction should be.</li>
<li>you wake up so often to a bright eyed, wide smiling little creeper 2 inches from your face whispering "mommy? mommy? mommy? mommy? mommy? mommy? mommy, me need eat! mommy? mommy? mommy? mommy? mommy? mommy?" that it doesn't even startle you anymore.</li>
<li>even with no kid in the car you habitually point and say things like: "Look, buddy! Choo choo!", and "See the cows?!? Moooo!"</li>
<li>you're never really completely out of diapers. there's always at least one stashed in every purse, laptop case, vehicle seat pockets/glove compartment, suit case, reusable shopping bag, and refrigerator fruit drawer.</li>
<li>you don't recall how a diaper came to be in the refrigerator fruit drawer, but it's been there going on two weeks. At least it's unused. </li>
<li>you go to work with random breakfast remnants on your shirt and think to yourself, "It could be worse. At least it's not something gross." (refer to the first item in this list)</li>
</ul>
Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-7638190694501186412012-11-01T08:28:00.001-05:002012-11-01T08:28:30.784-05:00The time i attacked my kid with the scissors... <p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left'><br>I know I'm not the first, and im sure I'm not the last mom that will do it. I know i should have sought professional help, and probably still should, but sometimes a mom just. Cant. Take. ANY. MORE. and she snaps...<br><br>So after being a single parent (Jason has been gone for work) for two nights, and dealing with at least a couple of weeks of whining and moaning about "Hair! Eyes! Hair hurt! Eyes! EEEEEAAaaaaaaYYYYYYSSsssSss!!!". Mama finally reached the end of her rope and attacked. Here's a before and after... I'll let you be the judge of the homemade haircut...</p><p class='bloggerplus_image_section'><div class='bloggerplus_image_section' align='left' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2gYYD2vah1moBL6aNVmnFlJHAUNgilA-swDJg4ldoCSmF5kE_LoEmjrHizY20UtgkYw8cNKLTqkdocov7jzk5Zcszl5PkKo7_uJ2qdUCvTWQcfkt9UGUkaYMH86tAMoZ_iwtvncDUSIU8/' ></img></div></p><p class='bloggerplus_image_section'><div class='bloggerplus_image_section' align='left' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA6P_rJTZLxJccnewaLIM4KvXp4sgorNtXXLiOJE11lQuDhxMcivoo8zcQ_CB2Bc30dJr9yVP6v0S0MguYfHFcgEfmRPKBzwvyEh_F18QaQfP0fVnhVee_vhPqVNFDwP-QA1hpGf1XVogD/' ></img></div></p>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-79763931869873506562012-09-06T21:56:00.002-05:002012-09-06T21:56:57.807-05:00Now that we're halfway there...... I guess it'd be a good time to tell the world we are having another baby!<br />
<br />
It hasn't been a secret. After all, we sent/delivered a card to our families, and texted a picture of the card to friends to announce the news...<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3g_DtPLbSTAFJdR0g2CUo3BvCLRIp6-n4mJGpJkzrXRMulWl_4rJs3zTgrlBdyn2oX0yFv5-UlZsfxqNfR0XNbLCgQUi6q2rpvhRsqFGDmDtEisKKXhDFGRddR6wibx5Um0jQDMwG47C/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT3g_DtPLbSTAFJdR0g2CUo3BvCLRIp6-n4mJGpJkzrXRMulWl_4rJs3zTgrlBdyn2oX0yFv5-UlZsfxqNfR0XNbLCgQUi6q2rpvhRsqFGDmDtEisKKXhDFGRddR6wibx5Um0jQDMwG47C/s320/photo.JPG" width="242" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
It says: </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Sparklers: $11, Goofy patriotic head adornments: $18</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Realizing there are FOUR people in these pictures: Priceless!</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Happy FOURth of July!</div>
<br />
... and I mentioned a deceased rabbit in a semi-cryptic, albeit unique, reference to my condition via Facebook.<br />
<br />
So here's the rundown so far:<br />
<br />
Baby is due mid-late January 2013. We are 20 weeks along (half way there!) and besides being tired, I am feeling good.<br />
<br />
I felt worse early on than I did with Garner. For about 8 weeks I looked and felt green around the gills, like I might toss my cookies at any minute (side thought: mmm cookies...), 90% of the day. I was never actually physically ill (Thankfully!), but it was much worse than the occasional 2 minute queasy spells I had early on the first pregnancy. That has faded now, giving way to rampant hunger and the occasional craving for olives.<br />
<br />
Baby and I both got excellent health reports at our 20 week checkup, where we found out that baby is in fact a boy! We are thrilled, not that we wouldn't have been just as thrilled if we were having a girl. Repeat boy is a bonus though. No need for excessive new clothes purchasing! My budget says, "Yay!".<br />
<br />
Garner still vacillates between no response whatsoever and "No." when asked if he wants a baby. This is an improvement from his consistent "NOOOOO!" response to the same question early on. He does however kiss baby (my tummy) night night and has been patting my tummy and saying, "bruh-der" since we found out it's a boy. I think he'll come around.... or be forced to get over it once baby arrives! LOL!<br />
<br />
All in all, we are excited and all doing well. Enjoying our last few months as a little family of three before we become a little bigger family of four.<br />
<br />
I hope to be able to post/update more frequently than I have the first half of this journey... but seeing as I don't have a really consistent history of regularly scheduled blog posts... I wouldn't bank on it if I were you. ;)Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-25656092422809042612012-08-30T14:59:00.002-05:002012-08-30T15:00:19.515-05:00Toddler Fact #4... Tall TalesFor many toddlers, namely my own, creativity and imagination begin to bloom. Good thing? In some cases... yes. In others... not so much.<br />
<br />
Me: "Garner, did you poop?"<br />
<br />
G: "No."<br />
<br />
Me: "Are you sure?"<br />
<br />
G: "NO."<br />
<br />
Me: "No, you aren't sure? Or, no, you didn't poop?"<br />
<br />
G: mischievous grin...<br />
<br />
Me: "Did you poop?"<br />
<br />
G: "No.... DADDY."<br />
<br />
Me: "Daddy pooped?"<br />
<br />
G: BIG grin<br />
<br />
Please note: Daddy is at work... 40 miles away. Either Garner and Daddy have some sort of weird bathroom ESP, or G is fudging the truth a bit. (Ha! Yes, I did just say "fudging" in a poop story!)<br />
<br />
<br />
One hour later....<br />
<br />
*sound of refrigerator water dispenser running... sound of water hitting the floor*<br />
<br />
Me: entering kitchen... "Garner, did you make a mess?"<br />
<br />
G: "Nooooooooooooooooooo."<br />
<br />
Me: "How'd all this water get in the floor?"<br />
<br />
G: pauses to think... "(F)ISH!" (the "f" is silent)<br />
<br />
Me: "Fish?? In the kitchen?"<br />
<br />
G: "Ish! Water!"... pointing at puddle.<br />
<br />
Elusive messy kitchen fish? Mommy thinks probably not...Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-48080742712782025322012-07-11T09:12:00.001-05:002012-07-11T09:12:10.559-05:00Toddler Fact #3... Toddlers love their booze <p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left'>He's always wanting me to help him get into his booze or daddy's booze. The booze by the back door, the booze under the bed, the booze in the closet. He loves all the booze. <br><br>Oh, I guess I should mention that by "booze" what he means is "boots".<br><br>"Garner, put your shoes on."<br><br>"Booze!"<br><br>"How about your crocs?"<br><br>"NOOOoooOO! BOOZE!"<br><br>The kid knows what he wants.</p><p class='bloggerplus_image_section'><div class='bloggerplus_image_section' align='left' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjxAsnQQ4lLvB6K9Xbrbz4eHufjYBhKUc6LfTCSGT6VfKPLuQxUURmNNTmwy6ygqmNBtRwFh2APcAu8Uz3g6zvlTgXThOu0ljxcp3HIxzDWQKkQgFUrHvFgWxz_9d6QKg0JfK7fqPtAa6R/' ></img></div></p>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-68693318474839793792012-05-20T10:57:00.001-05:002012-05-20T10:57:55.219-05:00Reasons that it's good I don't live in town... <p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left'>...because I find myself yelling things in the yard like,"Doggie! Stop licking the baby's wiener!!". (Disclaimer: the baby was fully clothed eating a hot dog. No dogs or babies were harmed... I cannot say the same for wieners.)<br><br>This post could also be appropriately titled: why I fit in redneck America or things no respectable human should yell out loud.</p><p class='bloggerplus_image_section'><div class='bloggerplus_image_section' align='left' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-j9PtbdYs4GFml16vtHlwcqWbKUM3NW0tHw8YPjQd6oWHlRI5aT9xVm-mzyVjGGU4Fvc6SD5oeU_noDNWRhAwkiHCyO-9dIU1lVFcv3os_EVwOzIKYB0qzvLhgx048_csY26eDkbbS_mQ/' ></img></div></p><p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left'>Yes, this IS a half consumed hot dog on a stump. Letting my toddler eat off of a stump... Probably another reason it's good I don't live in town.</p>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-23058174694153665422012-05-02T07:03:00.001-05:002012-05-02T07:03:00.379-05:00Toddler fact #2.... Pants optional <p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left'>What's that? Why does my toddler wear so many one piece outfits? <br><br>Well...<br><br>My toddler believes pants are optional. Along with shoes... And cleanliness... And modesty.<br><br>It's a simple fact... Pants are harder to take off if they are attached to your shirt, or even better, if they are part of your shirt.<br><br></p><p class='bloggerplus_image_section'><div class='bloggerplus_image_section' align='left' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYMRs6bKlFe-HryZErfdL1l5Km9c_9ndc9gWC_d-w5lkK6twULt0vmZk7g2kATbsOja5yqsB1lhq143ygvhJN_ypuxCkm9QqTfIbDKTHl7FIMuwKR755lWAKrX5scesQnwcbvijmomv4RF/' ></img></div></p>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-72283636190044803622012-04-27T08:31:00.001-05:002012-04-27T08:31:08.690-05:00Man training... <p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left'>He may not be potty trained...<br>But at least he uses a coaster...<br>You're welcome, future wife.</p><p class='bloggerplus_image_section'><div class='bloggerplus_image_section' align='left' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlYvVMyTWyhZDorWihxzVwed3GElIrbS06-y2GGZ4MNvjLUt8WoLxiSq-a_MWorVUtCP1H8GGN_WBCv5V-RSIJPRNEHhYQPYILIIxlGnrrg5L-kLFrtFPWCEO7eGU-Urzt3KaUTg3m51n-/' ></img></div></p><p class='bloggerplus_image_section'><div class='bloggerplus_image_section' align='left' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAuu8rtmMwkWKmr1gu-dT1wliOQd6nsQOyyulz3jn1f7fUT54kD5jyHVqNIMCbqP73JjM4R6CDO9y3t5sEmjbXGrlpB-kI4ciDYV6myoDP9Jsgsx9QsW1EKCuXeEaNfsf0eEhEewm29rLX/' ></img></div></p>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-88993800448295108792012-04-23T11:36:00.001-05:002012-04-23T11:36:50.198-05:00Curse of the trashy thong <p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left'>Everybody's got a pair. Those ratty flip flops you should only wear around the house, in the garden, or to run to the mailbox real quick. Or maybe you SHOULD NOT wear them. Ever. Never in public. The pair you should've given up a few years ago when the toe piece got yanked loose so now they have dirty duct tape holding them together. The pair your grandma would gasp if she saw. But, you just haven't had time or been able to splurge and spend $2.50 on a new pair. Don't play innocent. You know what I'm talking about.<br><br>Well, today it ends. Trashy thongs, meet dumpster, your new home. At least for the worst of my many pairs. Why? They love to come to town. Mostly on days that it's not ok if I look trashy. And have no other shoes with me. And am already running late for something. I step out of the house wearing nice shoes, slip on the ratty little devils to run out to feed the animals, and BAM! 25 minutes later, 1/2 way on my 45 minute drive to town, there they are. Smiling up at me with great glee that they once again tricked me into not putting my nice shoes back on. <br><br>Siiiiiggggggghhhhh. Thank you concerned lady at the grocery store for your kind offer, but it's ok. I know you don't believe me, but I can afford decent shoes. I just can't seem to wear them to town...</p>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-85146743604404353572012-04-18T08:56:00.001-05:002012-04-18T08:56:22.737-05:00Toddler Fact #1 <p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left'>Give me fresh snacks and I will either snub them, or take them but proceed to crush and/or hide them in every furniture crevice I can reach, only actually consuming a minuscule proportion.<br><br>However, if you get out the vacuum to clean up a week (or more) worth of snack carnage, I will run around rabidly scarfing the stale/soggy treasures you revealed when you moved the coffee table/couch/etc. I might even attempt a hostile takeover of the vacuum and contemplation of how to bust into the canister to retrieve the culinary delights within... <br><br></p><p class='bloggerplus_image_section'><div class='bloggerplus_image_section' align='left' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijcnUv7A637-yz4TVdrE9BaH-chcjatKhFt3ElMIkOPm3_SVV6z7sFWBXV7J6fWqwYw9aGNI72sUltCYDZYthuN-YdeY8RW65QAotDy6Z2U3QEem78iCjpJbSQYFeMSjE5DQAeWrTjvwtI/' ></img></div></p>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-90594001418809517582011-11-29T22:05:00.001-06:002011-11-30T00:06:10.397-06:00A day in the life of my one-year-old... Part I: The Morning6:45 a.m. Wake mommy up by banging on her face like it's a bongo drum.<br />
6:46 a.m. Smile and giggle, then pounce on mommy's face in a combo baby bear hug meets sloppy puppy kiss like I've missed her SO much, even though I've been right next to her for the past 6-8 hours, so she can't be mad that I was banging on her face.<br />
7:01 a.m. Finally kick/wrestle/pinch/do weird baby yoga poses, all while nursing, enough that we get out of bed.<br />
7:02 a.m. Play around in the bathroom while mommy does her morning stuff. Unroll the brand new roll of toilet paper, then shred it into umpteen bajillion pieces while mommy showers and is hollering something about making it snow in the bathroom. It's ok, "NO" isn't relevant when she's in the shower and all soapy. Bang on the shower door, giggle and squeal. Open the toilet and drop in some of my bath toys and my toothbrush. Splash around in there a bit. Uh oh, she jumped out of the shower even though she's soapy!...<br />
7:21 a.m. Wail in protest that mommy won't let me play in the potty, refuses to pick me up, AND she got back in the shower... the NERVE.<br />
7:28 a.m. Continue said protest wailing while mommy gets dressed even after she determined that I was neither hungry nor dirty, didn't have fever, offered me several super awesome toys that I proceeded to THROW and/or kick, and ruled out every possible itchy/scratchy/pinchy/poky possibility. Ooooooooh, the coveted iPhone! Wait... is this a distraction tactic.... <br />
7:45 a.m. Drat. It worked... Once again, I have been defeated. It is not possible to gnaw through the otter box. However, it does make a different noise when you bang it on the floor than it does when you bang it on the cabinet... and on the tub... and on the shower door... and on the potty... and mommy squeals when you bang in on her foot! <br />
8:15 a.m. Come back inside after taking care of my furry siblings that live outside. I love patting/banging on them. Time for breakfast! Hmmm... how many puffs can I stuff in this crevice between the cushion and the high chair while mommy makes herself an egg... How far can I fling a spoonfull of yogurt... How much banana can I stuff in my cheeks... and then spurt out... ok, I'm done. I'M DONE. ALL DONE!!! LET ME DOWN!!! NOW!! DOWN, WOMAN!! If I had the motor skills to unlatch my bindings I'd do it myself!<br />
8:43 a.m.Wobble around the house stumbling precariously towards anything sharp/pointy/hard and see how fast mommy can run.<br />
9:11 a.m. Stack blocks and then knock them over. Repeat. Fill up my tupperware bowl with blocks/balls/other small objects that fit. Attempt to put large objects in the tupperware. Discover they do not fit. Throw them. Useless. Stir objects in the bowl with my golf club. Dump bowl. Whack mommy with the golf club. Repeat. Mommy is impressed by all of this. She thinks I'm very smart.<br />
9:19 a.m. Impress mommy more by showing off my baby sign language. Get rewarded with milkies!<br />
9:28 a.m. Wail every time mommy attempts to do anything besides play with me and/or watch me play, especially if she's trying to work on the computer. Start this procedure as soon as I wake up. Repeat this throughout day.<br />
9:32 a.m. Make sure that doing the "milkies" sign still works. Yep. Proceed to nurse for all of 43 seconds. <br />
9:41 a.m. Scatter goldfish from my snack cup all around the living room, ensuring they get coated with dirt, rug fuzz, etc. Then put all 20 of them in my mouth. Hold them in my mouth for awhile to create goldfish slime paste. Spit that in the floor. Step in it. Sit on it. Then slap it so it makes that awesome <i>splarpt</i> <i>slopt splipt</i> sound and gets little bits of goldfish goo everywhere within a 3 ft. radius. Wipe my hands on the couch. While mommy tries to clean that up, empty the basket of socks she was folding while I taught myself all about the intricacies of decorating with goldfish glop.<br />
10:04 a.m. Adamantly refuse to allow mommy to do any work on the computer. Since she insists on doing other productive stuff, "help" her unload the dishwasher, scatter the clean folded laundry off the couch all around, lick the back door while I "pet" my cats "through" the glass, put a dead bug in my mouth, spit out the bug and smear it on the back door glass for the cats to see, etc.<br />
11:15 a.m. Play a fun game with mommy where we pick up all the toys and throw them at the toy box as fast as we can until they're all in there. I think this is HILARIOUS. Empty the toy box again while mommy changes the laundry. Repeat the filling the toy box game while intermittently squealing like a rabid monkey and howling like a coyote and wobble-running laps around the living room. Head butt the squishy part of the couch and fall down screeching like I'm being eaten alive by vampire bats. I get dramatic when I'm sleepy.<br />
11:37 a.m. Demand milkies. RIGHT. NOW. Pass out cold.<br />
<br />Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-54531086203113765152011-11-29T21:24:00.001-06:002011-11-29T21:34:35.205-06:00More than the gobbleI saw this the other day and thought it was perfect for Thanksgiving. I don't know who it's by...<br />
<br />
<i>"Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for."</i><br />
<br />
I have MUCH to be thankful for.Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-49464676022568485862011-11-17T22:41:00.001-06:002011-11-17T23:45:01.794-06:00Saying it out loud doesn't make it so...Life moves fast... intent to do something--or not do something--doesn't mean it that's how it will work out. Sometimes that intent gets trumped... often by a screaming baby. <br />
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I said, "I'll keep up with my blog. I won't get behind."<br />
I mean, come on, I'm a stay at home mom. I'll have time. HA. We all see how that turned out. (It's LITERALLY been 1/2 a year since I last posted.)<br />
What I've learned: <strike>Babies</strike> One baby can take up more time than you will ever have. <br />
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I said, "Gross. Who does that?! He's a kid, not a baby bird!" I had just watched a lady at the park bite a little piece of food off and then give that little piece from her mouth to her little kid to eat.<br />
Fast forward approximately two years to me, in the parking lot at HEB, trying to ensure that my kid will be agreeable during our sprint race for groceries, biting grapes into three pieces and feeding them to G.<br />
What I've learned: Teeth are readily available tools that are probably cleaner than the random leftover fast food plastic knife in the floor of the backseat. They are perfect for cutting up food to stuff into your kid.<br />
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I said, "Nah, we don't need an extra outfit."<br />
What I've learned: It's a phenomenon. Leave home with an extra outfit for you and baby and you won't need it. Leave home with only what you have on, and something that came from a baby oraface WILL end up ALL. OVER. IT. And it will likely smell awful. Trust me future moms. Keep a clean(ish) t-shirt in the car.<br />
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I said, "I'll just carry him."<br />
What I've learned: Using a public restroom while holding a baby, and ensuring that no part of said baby comes into contact with any part of said public restroom, AND getting your pants back on straight and buttoned/zipped is a tricky task. Then there's the hand washing. Never go shopping alone (or with people you don't trust to hold your baby while you go pee).<br />
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I said, "The baby should sleep in his own bed. It's safer."<br />
I know it's hard to imagine, me being so sweet and all, but I turn into a vicious, snarling beast when sleep deprived for multiple <strike>nights</strike> <strike>weeks</strike> months in a row.<br />
What I've learned: Nursing a baby every 2 hours (or less) <strike>ALL NIGHT LONG</strike> 24/7/365 will make things you once thought ridiculous become extremely practical. <br />
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I said, "I think I'm going to love being a mom."<br />
What I've learned: I absolutely do. Even in sleep deprived beast mode.<br />
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<br />Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-23355243573615645722011-06-02T13:39:00.001-05:002011-06-02T13:39:10.828-05:006 Months <p><p class='bloggerplus_text_section' align='left'></p></p><p><div class='bloggerplus_image_section' align='left' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB-mrQZnY8OaTs_RShCGL432WJQs0vVdQ3Ho7JhTAQZPf6qU9MCQgFcW2KIKxpt_Aa7k3i5ORfqf2W55fsKtKo3U6jrG6RS2CcbNfjguOf7WxHuFNkGZKwdNvE1F4AbXCUT22WISakaFfb/' ></img></div></p>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-23905105977899715522011-04-12T12:10:00.001-05:002011-04-12T12:10:34.095-05:00How Not to Accomplish Your Weightloss/Fitness Goals Set totally outlandish goals to accomplish in a ridiculously short timeframe. Then follow these steps:<br><br>1. Start with a hearty love of all things food.<br>2. Rather than cease food consumption when full, harbor a tendency to overindulge due to "deliciosity" or desire to "not be a waster".<br>3. Have a particular weakness for, and inability to refuse: pie, cake, cookies, candy, bread, pasta with thick creamy sauces, etc.<br>4. Tell yourself that your body "just isn't ready" to workout. If this is actually true due to illness, injury, or a medical condition (like a c-section), continue using this reasoning far beyond it's validity.<br>5. When beginning a new exercise routine, tell yourself it's "ok to take it slow". (if you plan to work hard, then on the days you slack off, at least you just take it slow. But, if you plan to take it slow, when you slack, you're basically then doing nothing.)<br>6. Be diligent with exercising for the first 6 weeks of the 9 week program, then in the 7th week, get really busy and allow yourself to "fall off the wagon".<br>7. To aid in the accomplishment of #6, rationalize on a daily basis a current or impending weather condition that prevents you from doing your outdoor exercises: too hot/cold, too windy, too sunny, possibility of precipitation, etc. To utilize this tactic even further, use the baby as a scapegoat: "too hot/cold/windy/etc. for the baby."<br>8. Buy an exercise DVD for days you do #7. Leave it in the wrapper... Indefinitely.<br>9. Go grocery shopping at sam's, have every intention to only select healthy items. End up purchasing a 5 pound bag of reece's peanut butter eggs, or other seasonal junk food. Put apples and other healthy snack choices in the back seat, scarf peanut butter eggs all the way home "before they melt".<br>10. Eat before bed or during the night because "nursing the baby so often makes me really hungry!" If this is actually true for you, refer to #2.<br><br>Then repeat... :)<br><br>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-50287067523466357562011-03-21T10:58:00.001-05:002011-03-21T11:01:48.822-05:004 1/2 Months <br><br><div id='bloggerplus_image_section' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpy6pfxzxPBskUgtj7iBloqaAqrKekFAewZc1s8L5kYcFxCRhvevvJiuRat0T1EnKGZ6uW7H7NeZZYSPjy7LtbJucHUWRaXdGDyalXneiLrFoOZdezx9SYVxp7P3pnqxrUrABOmHDahHu/' ></img></div><br><br><div id='bloggerplus_image_section' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsl1oUjyhYFG8RHgrwpSFftGqvhbatB6g_vhwc5Xyz67dkuvWQhc3LZCf1c6_jgp1rYltUVUEEYTc726_WGufBZCvLTlH-RXSFCt2sediKn8hhMpKBCp8RVP1emfsDzFOLSFDie85fNsBN/' ></img></div><br><br>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-6927087455961341172011-03-21T10:30:00.001-05:002011-03-21T10:30:31.793-05:00Dewberries I can't help but be filled with growing anticipation and excitement. <br><br>The pastures are sprinkled white, like a patchy dusting of snow. Warm spring breezes whisper promises of sweet ripe fruit, plentiful for the picking.<br><br>Visions of cobbler and jam dance in my head as Garner and I scout out the best patches for picking.<br><br><div id='bloggerplus_image_section' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5Nyj0280nYIvEoyWq1ABOI4_7xT7jXfPlJenmIlvQCs3oc40otuAAyOl6uvnOwh0W4bbFFmirSAsVT_LTX_2-DM2UmEBeifvKMoPybu5BnVh6rVSy6drJ9C2G9ArqY3PJ7WdTcLbjHUm/' ></img></div><br><br>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-49261996933610683112011-03-03T10:33:00.001-06:002011-03-03T10:33:44.121-06:00Kids (& babies, apparently) Say the Darndest Things Over the holidays, and while deer hunting, Sutton kept telling us things that Garner was "saying". <br><br>"Garner said he saw a deer. Yea, over there."<br><br>"Garner wants to open presents. He told me."<br><br>I, of course, thought to myself how awesome it would be if toddlers/little kids could translate baby babbles... Or can they???<br><br>So this past weekend, while in Angelo to visit and go to rodeo, Sutton told us more things his baby cousin "said":<br><br>"Garner said he wants:<br>-his boots on.<br>-some milk.<br>-his boots off.<br>-to get in/out of his chair (carseat).<br>-to sleep.<br>-me to hold him.<br>-to wake up and play.<br>-to go to sam's.<br>-to go get GG.<br>-to drive my up-down.<br>-to sit with me."<br>-etc.<br><br>"He does?"<br><br>"Yea, he told me."<br><br>It was all pretty funny, but this was the funniest:<br><br>Sutton: Lala, baby Garner said a bad word.<br>Lala: Did he now? Well, he shouldn't do that, should he.<br>S: He said s*#%! That's a bad word.<br>L: Sutton, are you supposed to say that word?<br>S: grinning mischievously, shaking head "no"<br>L: What does mama do when you say that?<br>S: innocently,"Nothin'"<br>L: Does she swat you? (She does!)<br>S: innocently,"noooooooooooooooooooo".<br><br>The moral of the story: little kids may or may not understand baby babble, my 4 month old may or may not have a potty mouth, and toddlers lie.<br><br><div id='bloggerplus_image_section' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZ52KxgisStmGZOIZjlQbIwUc2skiBkvgniYEyg6KVP9eypRe4DLP6Mfk0OfYDoqx58QbFIXJznvgzjrdc0TYrhXIQV1tKCLFXTb9xRsUvuSdqpSQjS-Lh56x6zwA56qz_FzLK2pF-slI/' ></img></div><br><br>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-78558531526858682992011-02-24T15:09:00.001-06:002011-02-24T15:09:45.277-06:00Garner <br><br><div id='bloggerplus_image_section' ><img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRJBfs8WS7lAXRJKDGeg_EtTBUDfoUbOFcBalk0knpj-D_roL0eCykKQrHrxoSWwk9GOOXZdCfSmkMCOzsGHrlytvJMAY4VOf0i01kPhASiA2tXfTu2X8S91t52Y0LngZoGCTuWVdov1MY/' ></img></div><br><br>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-50673895097120140532011-02-24T15:04:00.001-06:002011-02-24T15:04:53.599-06:00Highlights Ok, so bear with me as I learn to use my new blogger app. We don't have Internet at home anymore, so I'll be posting via my iPhone... And I'm still figuring things out. <br><br>Here are some of the highlights of the past few months. Yes, almost entirely related to Garner and what he's doing, because realistically, my world is now all about him. Some of them will probably turn into posts of their own... someday.<br><br>November 2010<br>-42 Weeks pregnant<br>-induction<br>-29 hours of labor<br>-November 11, 12:30pm, Garner Charles Chapman delivered via c-section, 9 lb 13 oz, 22.5 cm long<br>-obviously (especially to those following my earlier posts) not the birth we wanted, but nonetheless, the exact outcome we wanted: a perfectly healthy, happy, beautiful baby.<br>-4 days later, the most miserable hour I've ever spent in a vehicle<br>-home at last<br>-the joys of new parenthood and recovery from surgery<br>-getting acquainted with baby<br><br>2 Weeks Old<br>-Thanksgiving at our house with Grandma Dida, Pawpaw Larry, and Aunt Shannon<br>-Demonstration of just how far a diaperless infant can shoot poop across a room, onto a wall and everything in the vicinity between infant and said wall<br>-weight: 10 lb 5 oz<br><br>5-7 Weeks Old, December 2010<br>-slept 5 hours overnight for the first time<br>-first bottle<br>-smiling and coo-ing frequently<br>-went to Oklahoma then San Angelo for Christmas holiday<br>-first deer hunting trip<br><br>January 2011<br>-2 months: 13 lb 7 oz<br>-reaching toward and swatting at toys/objects/faces<br>-trying to giggle<br>-studies, sucks, & chews fingers<br>-loves to go outside<br>-first flyfishing trip to the Guadalupe <br>-started going to storytime at Rockdale Library, getting better at getting ourselves together to go places (grocery store, etc.)<br>-still not very productive around the house, most days we're doing good if we both get a bath and manage to have supper at least started when Jason gets home<br><br>February 2011<br>-3 months: 16 lb<br>-all smiles, giggles, and wiggles<br>-Superbowl party at Lazy K<br>-roll from back to side all the time, sometimes from back to tummy<br>-HATE tummy time<br>-first cold :(<br>-started C25k <br>-getting more productive at home, now that we've pretty much mastered basic mommy and baby stay-at-home-alone survival, we can usually get dishes and laundry done, sometimes some general tidying, and we're working on adding in some basic house cleaning. We are very good at playing, inside and out, and making sure we get our walk daily.<br><br>Things Garner loves<br>-mommy (and daddy)<br>-outside<br>-watching dogs and kitties, and more recently, touching them<br>-baths, being naked <br>-standing, playing in the jumperoo<br>-our new all terrain stroller<br>-blowing sloppy, slobbery raspberries<br>-cooing, gooing, and squeaking, along with other generally cute indistinct baby noises<br>-being held/carried<br>-putting everything I grab straight in my mouth<br><br>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-3186816797460425602011-01-29T06:05:00.000-06:002011-01-29T06:05:09.167-06:00Coming Soon...Much has happened since my last post! But not to fret, loyal readers! I promise to update you soon on all that has transpired!Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-71468727522489034112010-11-04T13:18:00.002-05:002010-11-04T13:40:51.283-05:00Patience....<span style="font-size: large;">Fair warning... this post is a bit lengthy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Yes, we are still pregnant. Yes, our ESTIMATED due date (note I said ESTIMATED not expiration) came and went. Yes, believe it or not, it is ok. No, there is no intention or plan to induce at this point. "What the?" you say. Keep reading...</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>First, we have a lot of faith</b>. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Faith in ourselves. That we are intelligent, responsible, educated, highly informed people who have put LOTS of time and effort into learning and researching and making the best, safest choices for our baby in our particular circumstances. We have not wandered blindly through our pregnancy, nor are we un- or under-informed about our current "overdue" status. We are constantly weighing the benefits vs. risks of our options as our pregnancy progresses and will act accordingly. Right now, there is no medical indication that anything needs to be done. I am healthy, baby is healthy. So, we are making every effort to have patience. No two marriages, no two women, no two pregnancies, no two babies, and no two births are the same, thus, there are no medical protocols that fit everyone (contrary to common perceptions and medical practices). Our choices may not be right for you and visa versa, but I urge you, educate yourself, and be your own advocate.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>"If you don't know your options, you don't have any."</b> Diana Korte and Roberta Scaer, authors of A Good Birth, A Safe Birth</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Faith in our <a href="http://www.obgynnorth.com/services">care providers</a>. A wonderful, caring group of Ivy-league educated professionals who educate, advise, and advocate rather than dictate. They combine a strong belief in the natural physiological process of pregnancy and birth with the safety-net of western medicine. They practice medicine based on current, modern research findings rather than standard protocols implemented long ago and though thought safe a the time, many of which have been found to NOT be safe or beneficial, or only so in very specific circumstances, NOT across the board or for the sake of convenience.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Faith in our <a href="http://www.mothersbynature.com/">doula</a>. From her website: "A doula is someone who supports pregnant/laboring women emotionally, physically, and with sound information during her pregnancy and the birth of her child. A doula assists in educating a pregnant woman with knowledge of risks and benefits allowing her to weigh her options when it matters most. As your doula, I am your assistant and advocate, I will impart information and make sure your wishes are met, but will not make decisions for you. Whether you want to birth at home, in a birth center, or in a hospital, I will work in harmony with you and your caregivers to ensure that you, your family, and your baby are well cared for. A doula may not make diagnoses or perform medical treatments or techniques." She has been an invaluable addition to our team of caregivers because of her wealth of knowledge and information, and because she has no other agenda than to take care of us. She has no obligation to anyone but us, not the hospital, not the doctors, her only priority is supporting us through this process.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Faith in God, nature, and the natural process. Baby will come when he's ready. Women have been delivering babies via spontaneous, natural labors for thousands of years. In fact, depending on your age, many of our mothers, and most of our grandmothers did so successfully. Only fairly recently has intervention and intensive management of pregnancy and birth become so popular. Unfortunately, if you look at the statistics, and look at the outcomes (maternal and fetal morbidity and mortality, i.e. injury and death), societies that believe in and practice care based upon the natural process have significantly better outcomes than those who practice high-tech, intensely managed, highly interventionist care--like is prevalent in the US. Does modern medicine save lives of mothers and babies? Absolutely. Do MOST mothers and babies need "saved" from the "perils" of pregnancy and birth? Absolutely NOT. The research, literature, and facts are there. What you choose to seek, see, and to believe is up to you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Now, on to the business of being "overdue".</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">From Henci Goer's "The Thinking Woman's Guide to a Better Birth"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">"A better term than overdue would be the medically correct postdates. "Overdue" implies that going past your due date is a problem, rather like overbaking a cake. On the contrary, inducing for exceeding your due date is a textbook case of how mainstream obstetric care keeps narrowing the definition of normal until practically no one fits, which then creates the "need" for intervention. True, a small percentage of women don't begin labor when they are supposed to. And, yes, placentas are not made to last forever. Still, mainstream postdates management has little scientific basis.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Up to the late 1980's, conventional obstetric wisdom held that if pregnancy continued <b>two weeks past</b> the forty-week due date, either labor should be induced or some sort of periodic testing of fetal well-being should be done. Nonetheless, induction [not testing] became the norm."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"There are problems with the due date itself. You may be surprised to learn that the conventional forty-week pregnancy length is completely arbitrary. It was established by a German obstetrician in the early 1800's. He simply declared that a pregnancy should last ten moon months, that is, ten months of four weeks each. However, when researchers in a 1990 study followed a group of healthy, white women, they discovered that pregnancy in first-time mothers averaged eight days longer than this."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"In addition, ultrasonography, the current standard for assigning due dates, does not reliably do so accurately."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"It gets worse. While even the forty-two week limit isn't sound, in recent years the "time's up" date has backed up to forty-one weeks, and then forty weeks. " Thus "first-time mothers are not only NOT "late" at forty-one weeks, they haven't even reached the average pregnancy length."</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Ok, Laci, we get it, so maybe you aren't medically "overdue"... but still, why not induce? Lots of people do and everything turns out fine. Get that little man here because we are all dying to meet him!!</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Well, here's the deal. The day I found out we were pregnant, my world almost altogether ceased to be about me, and began revolving around what's best for this baby. It wasn't a conscious shift, it just happened, and for awhile, I didn't even realize it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Cascade Effect: a vicious cycle, why we are choosing to avoid interventions if possible.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It's all about chance. Even if something has only a small percent chance of negative effect, meaning most people who use it turn out fine, I don't want to be that small percent affected negatively. So, by choosing to avoid unnecessary intervention, I reduce my chance of negative side effects from that intervention to zero. If it turns out we need it... ok. But why risk it if we don't need it?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Every intervention (i.e. things like continuous fetal monitoring, iv's, disallowing food/drink during labor, inductions, pain meds, episiotomy, cesarean, etc.) comes with a surprising and scary list of possible risks and negative side effects. I won't get into all of them, you all know how to google. The bigger problem is what's called the Cascade Effect: one seemingly harmless intervention has a side effect, that requires another intervention to fix it, that has another effect, that required another intervention.... you get the idea... that eventually leads to cesarean section. Cesarean section... MAJOR SURGERY-the most common major surgery in the US-that comes with a whole host of possible negative side effects including increased chance of maternal or fetal death! Ok, yes, it sounds dramatic, but it is true.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Inductions increase the risk of fetal distress leading to cesarean, problems that are then attributed to the baby's condition rather than their real cause--the induction itself. Unlike the natural process in which contractions begin slowly and then increase in duration, frequency, and strength, induced contractions start out long, strong, and frequent posing the risk of compressing the umbilical cord (among other potential problems, like failure of the induction altogether), and viola, fetal distress, that can lead to c-section. Natural, spontaneous labor allows the mother's and baby's bodies time to produce pain blocking endorphins and other chemicals and hormones to cope with the stress and pain of labor. The human body comes fully equipped with impressive coping mechanisms. Induced labor doesn't allow this and the body's coping mechanisms can't keep up. Leading to use of pain medications and all of the potential side effects they carry with them (again, you can google), often leading to what? You guessed it, fetal distress, and c-section.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Do these scenarios always come true? Of course not. Are they common enough to be cause for concern? Yes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The bottom line.</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We are not crazed radicals who are refusing necessary medical care. We have great doctors and support people and are planning to deliver in a state-of-the-art hospital fully equipped and prepared to handle any complications. I am healthy, baby is healthy, and we are being monitored closely for any problems that could arise. If things change, our plan will change accordingly. The goal is to have the healthiest happiest baby we can, and part of achieving that goal is to minimize risks, and especially to avoid choosing options that increase risks. We are excited to welcome our little man into the world and can't wait for his arrival, and are 1000% confident that we are making the best possible decisions for us and our circumstances!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Am I huge and uncomfortable. YES. Enough to take unnecessary risks. NO. So... until his debut... patience. :)</span>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-267902108347514818.post-47905540506749929052010-10-26T11:48:00.000-05:002010-10-26T11:48:25.859-05:00The Bump<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq83XCNgq2TgVLksYyrqaRm7GeNDekgDEJcDCJL0RRblx4rBmkKAFdCl4ZgXUyfaOm_5gupHseXNDXS93LVaTyy7a8xBFLuEiUyWCNc0abFl768NSlGycoJiQ9ve3VGuWrepr_39RGDYjV/s1600/104_1583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq83XCNgq2TgVLksYyrqaRm7GeNDekgDEJcDCJL0RRblx4rBmkKAFdCl4ZgXUyfaOm_5gupHseXNDXS93LVaTyy7a8xBFLuEiUyWCNc0abFl768NSlGycoJiQ9ve3VGuWrepr_39RGDYjV/s320/104_1583.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span>36 Weeks</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwwmf0dmAYVlU2cVpYA-At9NeaN8apGR1aN_1Hw3tiHTO5CPUhBvHPhd_D3Ab1O8RbaqXU6oJpt40o_I3BYbNwQRMRqtzpIC3T5nuiAsFHNYykH6GqicbMq3PyMX8Gurzgin7VHF5ieKcC/s1600/104_1589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwwmf0dmAYVlU2cVpYA-At9NeaN8apGR1aN_1Hw3tiHTO5CPUhBvHPhd_D3Ab1O8RbaqXU6oJpt40o_I3BYbNwQRMRqtzpIC3T5nuiAsFHNYykH6GqicbMq3PyMX8Gurzgin7VHF5ieKcC/s320/104_1589.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> 37 Weeks</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlqrnf5sJkbyHLeNqkiyaST9cSOwkhMaEW8_MoMbEDANMZRf_B8ijKVoS8XWSyWw5k-wvy4EHd-RP7rh7OpbnF2mZD-7Glxtg28VVZvSTP6tj5SHH2BTVxQNKYNyYv9HEmXjWV77ju_nG/s320/104_1590.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">38 Weeks</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlqrnf5sJkbyHLeNqkiyaST9cSOwkhMaEW8_MoMbEDANMZRf_B8ijKVoS8XWSyWw5k-wvy4EHd-RP7rh7OpbnF2mZD-7Glxtg28VVZvSTP6tj5SHH2BTVxQNKYNyYv9HEmXjWV77ju_nG/s1600/104_1590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJO2aDg1i1yZIISZ3RMRDZWOsNKI31YQpDWypzi9xpTIH23qWrBsNb3R5l3ulxuuy-OLMTyWNLjKziicScJuoUzIDUdMoHtOVxbFcq6OmOj8clfsusUylDjnpIR7NhlmEUN4gFfLkJVyBN/s1600/104_1593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJO2aDg1i1yZIISZ3RMRDZWOsNKI31YQpDWypzi9xpTIH23qWrBsNb3R5l3ulxuuy-OLMTyWNLjKziicScJuoUzIDUdMoHtOVxbFcq6OmOj8clfsusUylDjnpIR7NhlmEUN4gFfLkJVyBN/s320/104_1593.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">39 Weeks</div>Laci Chapmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10524191672085680213noreply@blogger.com2