The clock read 5:03 a.m. when I heard Charlie wake up this morning. I felt a flash of rage when I remembered it was Monday. Are you kidding me, universe?

The mental and physical exhaustion from the weekend re-settled. I felt desperation at the thought of facing my day: fixing Charlie breakfast, struggling to give him a bath, bribing him to get his shoes on for school, commuting in traffic, spending 8 hours at work, driving 90 minutes to pick up Charlie and get him back home, trying to feed him dinner without it ending up on the floor or on his head, 30 minutes of hysterics at bedtime, and the inevitable bickering between Charles and I. Oh, and I have to finish some homework before I collapse.

It was time to take a mental health day.

Parenting just feels hard lately. Charlie is at a stage in which his emotions are running high, yet he doesn’t have the cognitive ability to handle them nor the language to express what he’s feeling. So, he whines. A LOT. And throws things. And clings. And kicks. He’s also decided that he takes only one 40-minute nap a day. Dear Lord, help us.

Coupled with all this is my weakness at being “the disciplinarian” and my inability to experience his unhappiness without internalizing a lot of crap that a therapist probably needs to sort out.

I know this is a terrible cliche, but I never realized how selfish I was until I became a parent. There are times I feel resentful that Charlie is so needy right now. Or that we can’t watch TV (our parental choice), use our phones or open a computer when he’s around. I tried to read a textbook in the same room, but he flipped out that he couldn’t have my hi-lighter. CHILD, WHERE IS YOUR OFF SWITCH?!

It’s times like this when I feel I suck at being a mom. Good parents don’t feel resentment toward their children. Good parents don’t desperately yearn for a few hours of solitude – one with no baby, husband, daughter, house, work, or school responsibilities. Good parents handle the tantrums and neediness, because – duh – they signed up for this going in.

On top of all this, I feel society constantly reminding me that I must treasure these years, which go by oh so quickly. Because when they’re over, your children leave you and you die. Alone.

(See, I really did need this mental health day.)

I recall this great TED talk I once watched about taboos in parenting. In it, the speakers (founders of Babble.com) address the false “party line” that every aspect of a parent’s life gets drastically better after the arrival of a child (skip to 11:12 for this section). They share a slide about peaks and valleys of happiness throughout life. Your 20s, for example, are pretty stable, but it’s not until you have kids that you resubmit yourself to the extreme highs and lows you experienced in your own childhood.

This morning, I truly felt that low. And it sucked. But I also remember that incredible high yesterday when Charlie ran to me and buried himself in my arms after a long run. Or how he hummed the melody of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” to us for the first time.

At the end of the day, I willingly trade the stability of my 20s for these few, precious, transcendent moments.

To use another parenting cliche, it’s so worth it.

• Having to constantly pull up my pants and pull down my shirt as my belly does its best to fight its way out.
• Being able to wash only a few dishes at the sink before my back begins to hurt from having to hunch over to reach the faucet.
• Getting winded going up the stairs.
• Exerting a decent amount of effort just to roll over at night.
• Debating how badly I need to retrieve an item if it falls on the floor, as opposed to leaving it there until one of the kids can get it.
• Balancing carefully and with great caution as I quickly try to put on my socks…and pray it works on the first attempt.
• Grunting when I stand up, sit down or sometimes move in general.
• Exploding ankles that are the size of my calves. Thank goodness it’s not shorts season.

Even still, those annoyances are nothing compared to what some women experience. So, I suppose I’ll waddle my way through the next few weeks, all the while hiking up my pants and enjoying these last moments of being pregnant.

I am 39 and I have wanted this third child for so long! Since I spent years to convince my husband and finally gotten pregnant, I feel like this should be a very happy and content time of my life. After all, a dream is coming true! But while I try not to show it too much to my husband and friends, I feel like my body is falling apart.

Women are always told that pregnancy is a wonderful time in their lives that they need to relish and enjoy, but that often leaves us puzzled when things are more severe than expected. Husbands have no clue how it is to carry a watermelon under your shirt that compresses your lungs and shares your blood supply! Doctors will tell you that nausea, hemorrhoids, shortness of breath and fatigue are normal! And even other mothers have often conveniently forgotten how horrible you can feel while pregnant. (Especially mothers-in-law seem to have never had a bad day in their entire pregnancies or while raising their perfect children!) The only truly compassionate audience for your pregnancy complaints are other pregnant women! And while there is a small percentage, especially among first time mothers, that just sail through those 40 weeks without any water retention, stretch marks or heart burn, most of my readers will probably sympathize with my struggle on some level!

So what is so particularly painful this time around at 30 weeks into the pregnancy? It’s my veins – in all the wrong places! I have varicose veins in my legs that required putting on a support hose pretty much from the day I found out I was pregnant. My old friend, the cheeky hemorrhoid, has made an appearance again, but does not bother me so far (I know his time usually comes after birth). And finally I have developed the most awful, hot and swollen varicose vein in my vulva. As soon as I stand up and walk around, it fills to a painful level. It basically feels as sore down there as right after giving birth – 10 weeks before the action! I have bought a vaginal support belt, but since the pressure has to be generated somehow, it is quite uncomfortable on my hips!

Add to that the beginning of a prematurely separating pelvis and a very angry sciatic nerve … some days I feel like I should be in a nursing home! Can’t bend over, can’t squat, can’t walk, can’t lift… However the kids have to get to school and the dog has to be exercised twice a day, groceries have to be bought and the house has to be cleaned!

My midwife told me I was not allowed to ride my bike anymore since that aggravated the pelvis, however this was the quickest way for dog and school run and avoided the vulva swelling. So now I go out like an armadillo and it takes me about 15 min to put on all the armour: support hose for legs, vulva support belt, maternity belt for lower back / pelvis support. It is ridiculous!

I know things will get even harder in the last 10 weeks. I might have to start driving the kids to school and hire a dog walker. I could have my groceries delivered and a cleaning lady hired. But right now I can still manage, at least another week or two… I just needed a little whine & a moan to feel better. So thanks for listening – and don’t tell my mother-in-law!

Of course that’s what I thought: How hard can it be? I mean really. The lactation consultant at the hospital murmured things about my “excellent anatomy” and told me I’d have no problems with nursing. Sure enough, the first couple weeks after my son was born were fine. My husband kept remarking, “Look at you! You’re a natural!” as I whipped a breast out at the dinner table or while watching TV. I got this, I thought. No problem.

What no one warned me about though was that when it comes to breastfeeding, it really does take two to tango. And as with any relationship, problems can go both ways. So while my anatomy may have been up to the task, unfortunately my son did not agree. After a strong start, he suddenly decided that he really did not like nursing. From about three weeks onward, breastfeeding became an all-out struggle, a dance of coercion and heartbreak. His weight gain dropped off precipitously, I became severely depressed, and no one could figure out what was going on. We put him on medication for acid reflux, which did nothing. I stopped taking birth control again, which helped both with his nursing and my mood, but his weight gain remained low.

Eventually I reconciled myself to the fact that my boy was just not a good nurser. He nursed quickly and only when hungry, never needing the breast for comfort or entertainment or any of the myriad other reasons that most babies nurse. I watched my friends’ babies latch on easily and then nurse without incident, while my encounters at the breast remained at best short and businesslike.

We started our son on solids at five months, figuring they’d help with his weight gain. To our surprise, at his six month appointment, he had actually fallen off the growth chart! So we upped his solids again, giving him foods with a much higher fat content: yogurt, eggs, olive oil, tofu. He continued to nurse regularly, and our pediatrician assured us that the additional solids would supplement rather than replace breastmilk in his diet.

Then around seven months, right around Christmas, the boy went on his first nursing strike. He wouldn’t touch my breast for love or money, and recoiled from it as if it were poison. Back to the good old days. Of course this threw me into a tailspin of depression similar to when he was three months old — there is no rejection quite like that of your child not wanting the food your body has produced for him! He started nursing again after a few days, but a couple weeks later, we went through the same thing all over again.

As I waited for this second strike to pass, it became clear to me that it wasn’t just a temporary thing. My boy, never fond of nursing at the best of times, was clearly indicating that he was ready to cut way back on nursing, if not stop altogether. Since then, he’s averaged about three times in a 24 hour period, four on a good day. This may be normal for a nearly eight month old, but considering that he had been nursing six and sometimes eight times a day only a few weeks before, this came as a dramatic change, one with a very clear message: I’m done. So with a heavy heart I have stopped pushing the issue, as the renewed struggle to get him to nurse was making both of us unhappy.

Just to be safe though, I asked the nurse to weigh him when I took him in for his flu booster. To my amazement, he had gained two pounds in under six weeks! He hasn’t gained weight that fast since his first month of life. Of course I was hugely relieved at this news, and once I put my own mess of feelings aside, I was able to see that my son is clearly much happier eating solids than he ever has been with nursing.

So as with any relationship, I found happiness when I put aside my own ego and listened to what my partner was trying to tell me. There is still a part of me — the straight-A overachiever in me — that feels like I “failed” at nursing. But then I look at my happy, healthy, and thankfully growing child, and I know that I did my absolute best. And besides, there’s always next time, right?

What has been most surprising to you about your pregnant wife or about pregnancy in general? 

I was surprised by how big she got, especially towards the last few months.  I told a good friend about my surprise and then he later confided to me that he was also surprised by how big his wife became when they were expecting.  My wife became more beautiful with all that shiny hair and glowing skin.  And even though she complained a lot about her belly, I think it is beautiful.  Not necessarily sexy, but definitely beautiful.   She became more beautiful.

How would you compare this pregnancy to #1 and #2?

She ate a ton of clementines with the first one.  One crate after another!  I couldn’t keep up with maintaining a steady supply in the kitchen.  We have two kids to chase now but since she’s not working (as she did with the previous pregnancies), I guess it evens out in some ways.  Also, because she’s not working outside the home, she’s not as stressed out.

What do you love about pregnancy?

The baby at the end.  It’s also fun to see everybody else getting excited for us when we share the news about the pregnancy.

What has been a crazy or unusual craving from your wife?

She wanted hot wings, which we’ve never ordered or made at home.  So we ordered hot wings with various degrees of spiciness.

What pregnancy-related request do you get regularly?

A back-rub.  Also, picking the kids up into and out of places (e.g., the bath tub, car seat, booster seat, carousel, toilet) gets too hard as her belly starts to weigh her down.  Hence, the back-rub.

Which trimester is the most difficult for you (to witness) as husband?

The first is hard to watch because she’s so tired and, with this pregnancy (a boy), the nausea hit her hard.  She didn’t have that with the girls.  The nausea seemed really intense for about 2 months and she also couldn’t drink coffee, which she loves. I’m not a coffee drinker, but if I had a Pepsi-aversion, that would be rough.  The third trimester is also tough to watch because of the big belly, but she still tries to do everything, especially when the “nesting” instinct kicks in.

Now I will admit that I would be thrilled to have a little girl and finally being able to wander over into the pink section and immerse myself in tutus, princesses and dolls! But as a mother of a disabled child I have to say that “healthy baby” is on top of the list, no matter what gender!

Nevertheless, while we were trying to conceive I did some research to see whether there is any definitive information out there on how to influence the gender at conception. I was amazed by the massive amount of tips, tricks and devices that promise to result in the gender of the reader’s choice! Put “How to conceive a boy” into Google and you get about 10,000,000 hits! Some methods are free and some are pricey, but – with the exception gender selected embryo IVF – no method is guaranteed, despite all the glowing testimonials!

So here is a brief overview of all the theories floating around:

The most commonly known method for gender selection is the Shettles method. It’s based on the principle that male sperm are faster, but die quicker, while female sperm are slow, but hang around longer. So therefore – if you can pinpoint your ovulation – you just need to have intercourse up to 2 days before ovulation for a girl and on the day of ovulation, if you want a boy. (While this method is well known, we tried it with our second child and it did not work for us. Many testimonials online state similar failure and some go as far as claiming Shettle’s research was flawed and irreproducible.)

Almost an opposite timing is propagated by the O+12 (pronounced “oh plus twelve”) method, which proposes intercourse about 12 hours after ovulation for a girl. Supposedly discovered by a mother that had six sons before conceiving a girl with this, a small New Zealand study confirmed the findings. However pinpointing ovulation to the hour requires some serious discipline (with basal temperature charting and mucus observation) or a major gadget (like an ovulation monitor) – never mind a partner that can stand by for urgent intercourse!

In addition to these timing methods, you can go a step further an monitor the pH of your vagina – alkaline favors boys, more acidic favors girl sperm. Usually the entrance of the vagina is more acidic, so shallow penetration (”missionary position”) for a girl, while orgasms make the environment more alkaline, thus boy sperm friendly. In order to really tweak your vaginal pH some websites promote a “gender diet” – for girls try acidic foods, high in calcium and magnesium, for boys alkaline foods, high in salt and potassium. Most websites give long lists of specific foods that you are allowed to eat for one or the other, but all have the disclaimer that you should not do this for more than 3 months in order to avoid nutritional deficits.

The newest scientific research actually suggests that the gender is not so much determined by the sperm that gets to the egg first, but by the polarity of the egg at the moment – the ovule membrane has an alternating charge throughout the cycle and attracts or rejects the themselves slightly polarized sperm chromosomes. (You can actually separate male from female sperm by electrolysis.) There are several websites that claim they have done enough research to be able to determine when your egg will charged on a way to attract male or female sperm by the day. For that, they want your age, blood type and date of first period – and A LOT of money. A 6 months gender prediction calendar can cost up to $250 and even though most offer a “money back guarantee” (= send in the birth certificate of the “wrong gender” conceived), that seems more like a money making scheme than sound scientific advice.

Are you confused yet, what to believe? We were! So we decided to give it up to Mother Nature, which – after all – still meant a chance of 50-50. I would love to be able to report here what gender we conceived, however the baby had its legs firmly closed during the last ultrasound and so I will have to endure a couple more weeks of “Do you know what you are having? Are you hoping for a girl?”. I assume we will know the gender at the very latest when it comes out!

• Finally settle on a baby girl name.
• Have a natural birth with a healthy mom and baby.
• Spend at least the first year nursing without complaining about the time commitment.
• Read a lot, even if I’m tired from caring for a newborn.
• Run. And feel blessed to be able to do it again.
• Encourage a good sleep schedule for the baby, but don’t be beholden to it.
• Be more flexible. And I’m not talking about touching my toes (though that would be nice, too).

What about you? Did you set any resolutions or reminders?

And so today, I’m spilling the beans. Consider this your spoiler alert, if you’ve never been pregnant.

Rule #1    Don’t tell anyone you’re pregnant until you’re in the “safe zone”.
REASON: Fear of miscarriage or other complications

Rule #2   Don’t tell anyone your baby names
REASON: People are rude and they will steal them

Rule #3   Don’t tell anyone if you prefer a specific gender
REASON: As Mick Jagger once said, “You can’t always get what you want”.

I’ve literally broken every single one of these rules. Go figure. I’ve never been one to blend in with the crowd. But lately, my individuality has put me in an awkward situation. And it’s all because of Rule #3.

Let me explain…. 

As little girls, we plan the lives we want to have. We talk about our future husbands and the number of babies we want to have. We even try to foreshadow the gender of those babies and perhaps their names. But, as I’m learning, it doesn’t always work out as planned.

When we got pregnant with our first child, my husband and I both said we didn’t care about the gender. We just wanted a healthy baby. We lied. The last part is true… but we really did care about the gender. My husband wanted a boy and I wanted a girl. He won that round… and I gladly gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. After all, there was always “next time”.

Round two is a little different. People naturally assume you want the opposite gender with your second child. And there’s a lot of hype about it. Especially if you’re like me and your family is lop-sided with one gender. It’s been a long time since anyone has bought any pink dresses on either side of the family. In fact, I was the last girl born into the family. No pressure.

Despite our desires to have a little girl, I really tried to remain level-headed throughout the first half of my pregnancy. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, and to be honest, I didn’t want the added pressure of disappointment from our family. Because, let’s get real, it’s simple human nature to feel disappointment when a situation doesn’t turn out as planned. After all, the law of probabilty was on our side.

At 20 weeks, we had our “BIG ultrasound” and I was unbelievably nervous. It’s that kind of nervous you feel when you don’t even really know what you’re saying or what other people around you are saying. Everything is one big blur. I honestly don’t remember much from the ultrasound… except the part when the technician started typing “boy” on the screen. What? That must be a mistake. When she typed the word “penis”, I figured she knew what she was talking about.

I didn’t even have a chance to think about what all this meant when I felt a tear sliding down my cheek. I was so mad at myself. How dare I be upset about this. We had conceived a perfectly healthy baby, and that’s the most important thing. If that wasn’t good enough, then I didn’t deserve to have another baby. I had absolutely no right to be sad. But telling myself not be sad just made the tears come faster. I felt a squeeze on my leg. It was husband reassuring me everything would be ok.

I’m telling you this story because this exact situation is played out in many families, yet few people talk about it. Why? Because no parent wants their child to ever feel like they weren’t wanted because it’s simply not true. As women, we love our babies before we ever meet them- regardless of their gender. But, that doesn’t mean the big reveal isn’t a bit surprising.

Having gone through this myself, I’m here to say it’s ok to shed a few tears. After all, the additional hormones make us extremely emotional during this time anyway. For me, I just needed to take some time to digest everything. I took the rest of the day and reflected on what it meant to be the mother of two boys. By the next morning, I had thought of 100+ reasons why having boys was actually a blessing. I was confident, happy and ready to share the good news with family and friends.

And just in case you’re wondering, we are planning to have more children. Perhaps four total. And I’m expecting them all to be boys :)

I know this sounds weird, but read on and it might help you, too when you need it!

My history with cabbage:

I had given birth to my first baby about 2 days ago, when I fell asleep on the bed. I woke up an hour later and something crazy had happened: somebody had pumped up my breasts to basketball size! They were hard, they were steaming hot and they were HURTING! Engorgement had arrived! I was in agony, just the bra or a T-shirt touching my breasts was uncomfortable and in an ironic twist I now bumped into things with my super-boobs rather than my belly. I thought they sure were going to burst. And while my husband was quite enticed by the X-rated size of them there was NO way he was going to get to touch them!

As the daughter-in-law of a La Leche league leader and an avid reader of breast feeding manuals, I knew I needed to start breast feeding to relieve some of the pressure. Nursing helped a little, as did taking a hot shower, but the hard, bursting feeling was still there. Every movement of my arms painfully brushed the milk ducts (which to my surprise were swollen all the way into my arm pits) and even sitting (never mind sleeping) was uncomfortable. When I moaned about this on the phone to a friend in Germany, she said “Have you tried cabbage leaves?” I was taken aback. What did she mean? And then I remembered a little blurb about cabbage leaves in my German midwife book. Apparently it’s a very common recommendation in Germany to put cabbage leaves on your breasts to help with engorgement…

As I was desperate and would have tried anything, I sent the husband to the store to buy some white cabbage. I washed big leaves, crushed the stem with a rolling-pin (for comfort and to release the juice), wrapped my basketballs and put the bra over them to keep the leaves in place. Only half an hour later the relief was noticeable – as was the smell of wilted cabbage come from the cleavage! Ahhhh and Urgh! But I could have cared less about the odor at that moment. I tossed the leaves, the juice had done its job – two more sessions over the next 24 hours and I had survived engorgement with ease!

The rest of the cabbage leaves were put in the fridge (and some in the freezer) and in the coming months whenever I felt that a milk duct was clogged, I took a hot shower, massaged it and then put a cabbage leave on the spot. Worked like a charm every time!

So when I was pregnant with my second child, I bought a cabbage in preparation at week 38! I needed only one round of it after birth, engorgement seemed less severe this time around. However, the trusted cabbage came into play two more times during nursing: at about 4 months old, I developed mastitis (I think I didn’t let the baby empty the breast completely since I had to run after a toddler). While the antibiotics helped with the infection and the fever, the cabbage once again supported the clearing up of the clogged ducts! If I had paid more attention to my breast then my first born, I think I could have maybe prevented the whole mastitis with a cabbage leave in time…

The second use of cabbage leaves for number 2 was a little more unexpected: at 9 months he decided he was done with nursing. Refused the breast from one day to the other while stealing other kids bottles at play dates (a bit embarrassing, to be honest!). He would not latch on, pushed away the breast and did not even drink pumped breast milk. At day two of these antics, my boobs were once again full and hurting. After a week of pumping and offering the breast repeatedly, it became clear that he would not go back to nursing. So he had weaned himself, and I, for the last time, bought a cabbage and eased the pain of engorgement with my trusted smelly secret!

More cabbage information:

When I looked into the history and science behind green cabbage leaves, I discovered that it had been used for engorgement and other swelling (in sprains and broken bones) since the early 1800s. Research shows the common green cabbage (Brassica capitata) contains sinigrin (allylisothiocyanate) rapine, mustard oil, magnesium, oxylate and sulphur heterosides and has both antibiotic and anti irritant properties. While nobody knows exactly how these components work together, the theory is that they help decrease tissue congestion by dilating (opening) local capillaries (small blood vessels), which improves the blood flow in and out of the area, allowing the body to reabsorb the fluid trapped in the breasts. Cabbage may also have a type of drawing, or wicking action, that helps move trapped fluid. (This means it can also be used for Edema in the face, hand or feet for diabetic mothers).

Obviously cabbage leaves should NOT be used if you are allergic to cabbage or sulfa and also not on broken skin (leave cracked/bleeding nipples free).

Some people warn that excessive use of cabbage leaves might dry up the milk supply, but there is no scientific evidence for this, and since it most likely works on trapped fluid between the cells rather than the milk in the ducts, I would not worry about that!

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To learn more about ways to ease engorgement (especially if weaning your baby), listen to PregTASTIC, Episode 246

• Baby nail file. Your baby just might have sharp, pointy claws that scratch his darling face. The nurses will tell you that you can bite those nails off, but as a new parent you can’t quite figure out the logistics of biting near those tiny fingers. You could try clippers too, but that might also be scary for a new parent. Files are slow, but simple. Bring some. And on that subject…
• Nail clippers for you. There’s a good chance you’ll be sticking your fingers right in that delicate baby mouth on a regular basis. Maybe your baby needs some supplementing, and finger-feeding is the chosen option in your case. Maybe you just want to check if she’s ready to nurse by seeing if she’ll suck on your finger. Either way, you don’t want to scratch your new baby’s adorable mouth.
• Black yoga pants. This is very specific: black. You’re probably going to deal with some leakage. The hospital will give you the biggest pads on earth and crazy underwear, but just in case they miss something, you’ll have pants that won’t show any stains. These pants are great for the ride home or even to help you feel more like yourself in the hospital. If you have a c-section, they’re much better for finding a comfortable spot that doesn’t bother your incision.
• Nursing tank top, button-front shirt, or short robe. Yes, you can wear the hospital gown instead; many women do so. If you are nursing you will hear that fresh air does good for tender nipples and the baby should be skin to skin as much as possible. But if you keep the top of the hospital gown open to nurse or to get some air, the whole thing falls off when you get up to go to the bathroom. If and when you’re able to move around, it might be easier to wear a nursing tank or robe and comfy pants. You can keep the top open as long as you want and just close it up if you have visitors or have to go somewhere else in the hospital. You never know who might need a trip to the NICU, and although you can certainly wear your gown there, you might feel a little freer nursing in that environment with clothes you can control.
• Flip-flops. So you say your hospital is modern and fancy, and all birthing rooms have their own showers. Do all recovery rooms have their own showers? What if the labor and delivery floor is full and they put you in another part of the hospital? Bring your flops just in case you have to use a shared shower. They clean the hell out of those showers, but it will help your peace of mind.
• Lotion. OK, this is trivial, but hospital soap can be drying. If you’ll be in the hospital for a few days or more you might appreciate having some hand lotion. Who wants to caress a new baby with rough hands?
• Lanolin cream. They say the best cure for sore nipples is your own breast milk, but many women feel more comforted by lanolin cream. The hospital might have free samples or they might charge you or your insurance for cream. I wouldn’t recommend bringing in your own medications, but lanolin cream is probably OK. Just check with your nurses.
• Snacks. Your hospital won’t allow you to eat during labor? Sure, but what about during recovery? What if you stay for a few days or longer? The hospital will bring you food, but it’s hospital food. Maybe your partner or friend offers to pick up dinner for a treat, but you don’t want to send someone out every time you are hungry. You might be waking and sleeping on a very different schedule than the typical meal plan.
• Carseat manual. You already know to bring the carseat. What if someone inspects your car and says it’s installed incorrectly? Bring the manual just in case. Better yet, keep it in your car at all times.

That’s it! Remember that this and all lists are just to make you a bit more comfortable during an exciting time. You don’t need any of this. You and baby will do just fine with nothing, and you shouldn’t stress over anything you forgot or wish you had thought to add. Good luck and enjoy the journey!