The past few weeks (months, really) have been stressful (hellish) as we’ve watched our estimated date of moving shift ever closer to my baby’s estimated due date.  I have lots of experience moving, and I have lots of experience having babies, and one thing I feel very strongly about is that these two “events” should not happen at the same time.

In many ways, moving and having a baby are very similar.  Both change your life, and life-changes are anxious times.  Both require a certain amount of preparation.  Both have a time of intense chaos that lasts a few days or weeks, followed by a time of less intense insanity that goes until a month or so post-event, followed by a hopefully easier, but still somewhat stressful period as everybody involved makes their final transition to the new normal.

Many of the decisions you make and the work you do beforehand, contribute significantly to the level of stress throughout the process and the recovery period.  For example, spending the last month of pregnancy cooking and baking and filling your big freezer with food your family likes to eat is, without a doubt, one of the simplest but most productive uses of that nesting instinct that pays huge dividends once that baby comes.

Savvy military moms might instantly recognize that having a freezer full of food is great for a new baby, but not at all conducive to a move.  In fact, one of the preparations for a move is to use up as much of your stocked food as possible, certainly, at least, the perishable stuff.

Another great preparation before having a baby is to have a well-sorted and organized house.

Not a house full of boxes.

The list of conflicting preparations goes on.  Hence, the additional stress. 

One thing that is good to do for both these situations is to think of all the things that can go wrong and how you will deal with them.  What if that luggage carrier you intended to put on the roof of your car won’t work (been there)?  What if you find out that your car can’t pull a trailer (done that)?  What if your household goods won’t be delivered for two weeks?  What if the babysitter gets sick and can’t watch your older children?  What if you have a c-section?  What if the baby has jaundice?  Of course, in working out these situations, often all that one can do is accept the possibility and know that you will just have to deal with it (in the case of a c-section, for example).  Other situations, like having multiple babysitter options or packing some essential kitchen supplies in your car, have tangible actions that can be taken to minimize the pain when things go wrong.

And even if you can’t do anything to prevent something from happening – like jaundice in a newborn – you can seriously consider that having movers at your house within days of the baby’s birth is not a prudent course of action.  Do I hear an Amen?

For weeks, I have been in a mental rut, spinning through different ways to handle these upcoming changes.  I came up with Plan A which, although imperfect in many ways, tried to ensure the most success of both situations.  The biggest downfall was that it was going to cost a lot of money.  Plan B cost less, but favored a successful move over a successful birth.  Plan C meant a good birth, but nothing else: no leeway if there were post-birth issues, and the move was certain to be a disaster.  My husband was not helpful in coming up with better plans.  I talked to several people, and they could help me see other issues and flaws in the three plans, but no decent solutions. 

I finally asked (begged) God for mercy and guidance, and did mange yesterday to come up with Plan D.  It’s not perfect, either, and I know it’s not done: details will change, possibly the entire time line may get shifted and we’ll likely end up executing Plan E or F or G.  But this is the first plan that has flexibility, that balances well the issues of both situations, and doesn’t cost too much (moving always costs some money, the question is how much, and that is generally answered by your personal comfort level and how much you enjoy sleeping on air mattresses…and when you are extremely pregnant or have a newborn, the answer is: not at all).

But now, at least, I have some peace of mind in knowing a basic timeline, knowing how that timeline may shift (to the right and not to the left), and knowing what needs to be done beforehand for a better chance at success.  I am much calmer this morning than I have been in a long time.

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Finally, after that productive meeting of the minds with Bill that got me a working plan for the next 4 – 5 months of my life, I remembered that it was a new month.

“Oh!” exclaimed I to my husband.  “It’s a new month!”

He looked at me.

“What are we going to name this baby and who will be the Godparents?”

He laughed.  “We have plenty of time for that,” he said.

“OK,” said I.  “We’ll talk again next month.”  

Just as we did last month and the month before.

I realize that it is unlikely that any person who reads my blog might also read Men’s Health magazine, but there does happen to be a great article in the October 2011 issue.  They did a piece on the therapy dog program at my husband’s unit.  Because this program is new (my husband’s got the only one), it is controversial (bureaucracies do not like new things).  But these dogs really seem to make a difference to some soldier’s mental health and overall ability to cope with life.

Much of the controversies have come from potential violations of regulations: pets are not allowed in barracks, only service dogs are permitted in buildings, working dogs (K-9) must be kenneled in certain ways, etc.  Therapy dogs are not exactly service dogs (like seeing-eye dogs) and they’re definitely not K-9, trained to sniff out drugs or guns or attack fleeing bad guys.  There have been growing pains as the unit has had to help define what a therapy dog is and how the dogs may live and work on post.

The Men’s Health article doesn’t talk about any of these issues.  It talks about the soldiers and how the dogs make them feel, how the dogs have improved their lives, calmed their nerves, soothed their tempers, and given them something outside of themselves to think about.  It’s an interesting read, and I hope that subscribers will come away with a greater appreciation of what some people suffer in the name of Freedom.

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On a completely personal note, the article is a great keepsake for our family.  First of all, there a chest-up photo of my husband that takes up almost the entire page.  It’s nicely photo-shopped to remove any blemishes and add in a vague stubble, I guess for artistic purposes.  Secondly, Bill is quoted several times, and his quotes are added in twice on the 8 page article as a highlighted blurb. 

And lastly, and best of all, my husband, my husband, is described as “a buff, hard-bitten combat veteran” which sounds so very cool.  I had no idea I was married to Rambo.  I am so thrilled to be wed to such a walking example of testosterone-laden heroism.  Ladies, feel free to drool over my husband’s picture, but remember, he’s all mine.

I plan to take this article to a frame shop and have it mounted in some way.  It will hang on the wall of our home, and our daughters’ boyfriends will read it and know they can never compare (and hopefully worry about what Daddy might do to them if they break his little girls’ hearts).  Eventually, our grandchildren will read it and say to each other, “Wow!  Grandpa served in Afghanistan.  He must have been a really tough guy.  See, it says so right here.” 

And the myth will grow.  And I’m ok with that. 

Ever notice that men write the biggest tear-jerkers?  What is up with that?

We got burnt to a crisp on Friday at Jekyll Island, GA.  It wasn’t a pleasure trip; we were there “on business” at a mandatory fun, family event for my husband’s unit.  Bill had to twist my arm to attend (NOT).

The event was hosted by local businesses and groups, and the media was present.  Here is one article:

Sense of Normalcy

It’s touching.

An emergency came up last evening and I had to bring home my friend’s five children for a likely overnight stay. Eleven children aged 12 and under are extremely noisy. Of course, just to make things interesting, my husband and I took them all out to the local ice cream shop.

For once, nobody asked if they were all ours.

All was fine and my friend picked up three who were still awake when she got back late last night. As we were going to bed, my husband told me I was a good friend.

“I’m not doing anything I don’t expect my friends to do for me…not that I’ve ever needed something like that…wait, I dumped our kids’ at Rachel’s house when I had a D&C…see, that’s just how we are.”

Just two nights before, I was running out to the all night grocery store to buy formula and a bottle for a breastfed baby whose mommy had to run his sister to the ER. Her husband is deployed, the friend watching her son (the same one with last night’s emergency) has a deployed husband, and my husband was deploying when I had the D&C. This is just the nature of our lives right now.

We’re more than friends. We’re battle buddies.

We didn’t get home from baseball until after 9 pm last night. It was 10 before the kids were bedded down and I remembered that I needed to change the dates on some documents for my husband. He would have done it himself, but one was a JPEG file I had created, so it was complicated.

It didn’t take long to complete the job. I printed a copy of the changes, emailed him the new versions, and showed him my work. Finally feeling “done,” I sat on my chair next to his chair to relax for a bit before bed. It had been a long day with a field trip to an organic farm, ballet class for the girls and then the baseball game.

After a minute, his GI Blackberry buzzed telling him he had a new message. “Go to bed,” I growled at the electronic leash. “It’s nearly 11 o’clock at night. Why would somebody be up this late sending you emails? Don’t these people ever sleep?”

He picked up the thing and looked at it. “That would be your email,” he said.

“Oh, go to bed,” I growled at the phone again. And then I did.