Friday, February 12, 2010

Decisions are hard, yo

I've decided that this child will be named pizza.

It's what I want constantly. Don't fret, I'm not eating it constantly, but I still want it. This isn't much different from my pre-pregnancy self, so I'm not necessarily calling this a pregnancy craving. I would have been a blimp 6 years ago if I'd given in to this whenever it came up. I just really like the stuff. But now, it's like my ridiculous cravings have the volume turned up. This could be dangerous.


We're currently trying to decide who will be our midwife. Option #1 has her own practice. She only does homebirths and shares our opinions and philosophy on birth and general health. Because she's the main provider, she'd be who I'd see throughout the entire pregnancy. Plus, she's awesome and has a lot of tools in her arsenal. I really like that.  I instantly felt comfortable with her when we met with her.  

Option #2 is a practice of 4-6 midwives at a birth-center. By the time of the birth, I will (hopefully) have met all of the midwives through prenatal visits, though I will not know who will be there at the time of my birth until it actually happens. The only room I'd be comfortable with using there (for size and my own personal strangeness) is the larger birthing-suite. The great thing about this place is the tubs. They're big. And I'd love to be able to take advantage of the tub for laboring and maybe the actual birth.

The tub at my house is small. This could be the deciding factor for me.  I'm almost completely sold on the homebirth midwife...except for that nagging feeling that I might want a damn tub.  Listing pros and cons is getting us nowhere. I think I may just end up being one of those people that gives birth in the last stall of the ladies room at a restaurant because I just couldn't make up my mind.


We're currently in the market for a saddle for Brodie. For years, Jordan and Lucy have been "riding Brodie" while singing "Tryin to catch me ridin' Brodie." You may recognize that line better as "Tryin to catch me ridin' dirty," ala everyone's favorite ghetto tune, Ridin' by Chamillionaire. Don't even pretend that the thought of this isn't funny. It's also a little sad that this is what we consider entertainment.

So, if you can help us find a saddle that would fit Brodie and work for a chihuahua and a baby, alike, that'd be great.