IT'S A BOY!! - Updated

This is SDH's hubby Jim. I'm putting Addy to bed and have a few pictures for you. He was born at about 2:10 PM, 7lbs 6oz, 19 3/4 in. Upon seeing the boy, we decided the names we had picked out wouldn't work so we came up with Elias Marek.

Update
Adelay met Elias and held him and gave him kisses. She was really sweet to him and said his name (Eli). Addy wasn't so happy when her mommy was feeding this new baby however. SDH is set to come home Saturday afternoon at the latest, and is looking forward to sharing her birthing experience (including the naming roller coaster).
Jim

Dilemma

So here's the deal (besides the obvious fact that I am indeed still in a state of pregnancy): my thirty-nine week appt. is tomorrow, and Dr. D has offered to "get things started" if I don't go into labor on my own today. This offer, which I scoffed at six days ago, is sounding mighty tempting right about now. Even more so after I got a phone call this morning, telling me that my friend, the one who is due ten days AFTER me, is in labor!
After my initial shock/outrage at the unfairness of it all wore it off, I was of course completely excited, and went over to the hospital to see her for awhile. She was at four cm. and ninety percent effaced, and they broke her water while I was there, so now, as of three thirty this afternoon, I am on pins and needles waiting for a call that the baby is here! It's so exciting; when I went in, I was filled with a weird nostalgia/anticipation- remembering Addy's birth and also awaiting my son's. I am also now filled with plotting and planning, 'cause after being there, in the presence of actual labor, I am even more desperate to get my own going.
My dilemma is two fold: If I don't go into labor tonight, do I agree to an induction tomorrow or Friday? I have always said I don't want to go that route, but this weekend is Labor Day- what if I go into labor then and my own doctor, who I love, is out of town and I get stuck with the on-call? Also, what if I'm dilated even more by tomorrow? I'm getting kind of scared that my water's just going to suddenly break at home, and that by the time the doula gets here and Addy gets situated with the sitter, I'm going to have a baby head coming out between my legs! I don't want to be on the news for giving birth in a car, thank you very much. I'd feel a little safer having the water break at the hospital, because with Addy, I remember things moving very very quickly after that point.
Also, there's this option: Do some housework tonight, walk around a bunch, and get contractions started (because they always do when I'm on my feet for any amount of time; they just go away eventually when I'm finally exhausted and fall asleep.) Only this time, maybe I could just NOT GO TO BED, call the doula and the hospital, go in, and even if my contractions have stopped by then, when they check me and see I'm halfway dilated, surely they'll just go ahead and break my water or something and get labor started, right? I am getting SO tired of being convinced I'm in labor every night, only to have it taper off. Last night the contractions were painful and regular for two hours. I was so sure it was finally happening, and then, boom, gone.
Tell me what to do, people! Do I get some contractions going and head to the hospital, even though I know it's probably not the real thing, just to get admitted? Do I wait for the appointment tomorrow and talk about induction, which really scares me (Pitocin=excruciating pain)? Help!

P.S. Why is Adelay picking THIS week to give up her naps altogether?

Picture Happy; Also, Desperate

Addy, February 2007
Now that I've started with the pictures, I can't be stopped. Also, I have nothing to post without pictures, as my brain has begun a steady loop of "When when when is this baby coming out of me?" and has shoved out any creative/funny/vaguely interesting post topics.
I went so far today as to try to recreate the day I went into labor with Addy- it was a Sunday, we went to church, then we went to Bob Evans with some friends of ours because all the other restaurants were too busy. So we went to church today even though I didn't really feel like it (I'm tired of saying, "Yep, look at me! Still pregnant, ha ha!") Then we called the same friends, and they generously agreed to abandon their Subway and meet us at Bob Evans to see if perhaps it's something in the water there that triggers labor for me. If this works, I will NAME the kid Bob Evans.

Don't Get Excited, Now

Because this is not the new baby, this is a tiny little Addy when she was a day old. Just wanted to post it for comparison's sake, because as we all know, surely the next time I am posting it will be with NEW pictures of the NEW baby! Right, dear gods of childbirth? Right??!!

P.S. People (for instance, random waitresses) need to stop giving me advise about how to go into labor. I am over it. I have tried EVERYTHING short of the castor oil thing, and I am just not doing that. Yet...

Updates and Pictures

As of this morning, I am four centimeters dilated, eighty percent effaced, and the baby's head is tucked below my pubic bone. How am I not in labor? The good doctor says confidently, "Oh, soon, any day!" I think I will be suing the man if I end up going to my due date. They did an ultrasound, too, and guessed the baby's weight to be around six and half pounds, which is very relieving to me. I can do that, I can do six-something. No sweat!
Also, I decided to break my face-anonymous policy, in a grand, "Oh, screw it, I'm showing off the whole fam!" style. I mean, I HAVE to post pictures of the delicious newborn, right, so why not do a grand reveal of everybody? Here we are- you may compliment my child's astounding beauty now!





Here are Jim and Addy in their new jerseys. Every time Addy puts hers on, she runs to the closet and makes Jim get his out, too.


Here is the obligatory hair photo. Please note that it looks better, in my opinion, when it is blown dry and straightened and styled, as it was at the salon, but I am not very good at it yet, and also it is too hot to attempt anything involving extra heat in the bathroom. So scrunching it is.


And here we have the belly in all its glory.


Here's a recent shot of Addy. Lucky girl will never need mascara, unlike her eyelash-challenged mother.

Proof That Boys Are Indeed Harder

Ways to exhaust yourself completely, trigger lots of contractions, and occasionally induce heartburn, yet accomplish absolutely nothing save to drive yourself crazy:
-Sweep and mop your front hall, kitchen, and laundry room
-Scrub your bathroom within an inch of its life
-Vacuum under every single sofa cushion in the house, as well as the cushions themselves
-Dust entire house, including baseboards
-Rearrange all the picture frames and knick knacks in the living room (several times)
-Walk around the mall
-Walk around the farmer's market
-Walk around K Mart
-Eat seafood and Chinese food
-Take evening primrose oil capsules
-Carry your toddler around everywhere
-Pack your hospital bag
-And of course, that most foolproof of tactics to bring along baby, Have Sex Around The Beach Ball That Is Your Belly

Grrr. This baby is more than stubborn than his sister right from the womb. I'm incredibly happy he's made it this far, but now I am ready to kick him out, I'm afraid. I mean, I'm very excited to meet him, too, and get to see his little face and introduce him to his family, but also, especially at two in the morning when I'm tossing and turning and peeing every half hour, I want him to GET OUT GET OUT!
Every single time I answer the phone or make a call, I must answer the ever popular "Are you in labor?" question. It has replaced "Hi" and "What's up?" as the standard greeting everywhere, apparently. I'm really wishing I had not broadcast to everyone my and my doctor's expectation that I would again go into labor within days of being off bedrest. So much for that. Every morning I wake up still pregnant is a mockery. Plus, I'm getting a little worried- sure I did natural childbirth last time, but I had a short labor and a five pound baby. Can I really hack it this time around if this baby just keeps growing and growing in there? I'm gonna have an eight pounder by the time this kid decides to grace us with his presence!
I have decided the Good Lord must have made the last month of pregnancy so torturous just to ensure that women would actually be HAPPY about going into labor. When else are you thinking, "Oh, this is getting painful- yes! At last! Here comes the awful part!"
Anyone else have any totally useless "go into labor" suggestions that I may try just for the sport of it?

Thank You, Baby

For staying put, that is. Because despite my fears to the contrary, I have managed to get myself mostly recovered and have done a few NORMAL PERSON activities without immediately sending myself into labor! I was so sure I'd go directly from my couch back to the hospital, with nary a day in between to do anything fun that I'd been missing out on like shopping or eating out or, you know, shaving my legs and putting on makeup like the somewhat groomed person I was previously. But I have, in the past two days, gone to the mall and gotten my hair cut and highlighted (five inches off, thank you very much!) gone out to lunch, and today am planning to go walk around and shop a bit in a cute little town about a half hour from here- with help, of course. Still no driving for me, but come one! I have made huge progress! I am feeling happy!
I've also had to use my Brethine several times since this semi-return to normal (read: upright) life, as my contractions seem to be triggered by any movement beyond the lifting of the remote. And I decided yesterday, after experiencing afresh the truly horrid side effects of the stuff, that I would rather go into labor at this point than have to take that crap again, so as of now I am on Full Baby Alert. I even packed my bag!
I'm very happy to have made it this far, honestly- thirty seven weeks is a big milestone, right? It's technically considered term, I think. All this trouble and misery, and I managed to keep that bun in the oven! Yay me.
So I'll go out and walk around and visit the farmer's market today with Addy and my mom, enjoy the sunshine which I've been missing, and then hopefully pop this kid out in a few days! (Also, hopefully "pop" will indeed prove an accurate euphemism for deliver, as opposed to, say, "struggle and strain and wish plague and death upon my husband.")

Quickie

'Kay, this will be short, but I just wanted everyone to know I am doing markedly better today, as far as I can tell. I took a shower all by myself, and washed my hair, even shaved my armpits, without going all swoony and nauseous. I was very excited. I've even been up walking around a little bit, though technically by bedrest isn't done until tomorrow, and it felt... Okay. Not great and not normal by any means, but I wasn't choking down the urge to be sick either.
So yeah... Before all this catching a horrible freak inner ear virus business, I was planning to be up doing aerobics tomorrow, trying to move this kid out. Now I am praying he stays put another week or so. I think if I keep taking it easy he might oblige. Here's hoping!
More later.

Random Highlights From Vertigo World

Still a little too woozy to do a full-blown post, so here's some little snippets of my week, and I'll try to expound further about them later if anyone wishes.
-Refusing to admit to myself that I was really and truly going to throw up until it was too late to get a bucket, and puking all over the bathroom rug and my own bare feet.
-Having the same irritating nurse that I had two years ago with Addy, the one who is incapable of finding fetal heartbeats on the monitor and took literally an hour to get me registered in the hospital's computer, and who cannot do IV's to save her life and sent my blood spurting all over the room. To a patient who was dying to get the IV going and get some drugs into her bloodstream, this lady appeared to move almost in slow motion. I wanted to strangle her.
-Having this same nurse extract a urine sample from me via catheter, and ask me repeatedly if I were allergic to the antiseptic she was applying to my girly bits, since I seemed "so squirmy." "Does it burn? Are you hurting down there?" she demanded. No, Nurse Ratchett, but you're slapping that stuff on like you're rubbing marinade into a chicken. One doesn't have to be sore down there to have sensitive nerve endings.
-Having some sort of vomiting and/or fainting incident every single time I have attempted to shower since last Sunday. The first bath, given to me on Tuesday night by my mother, I shook like a leaf from the effort of sitting up, and then promptly threw up as soon as I got out. Second time was a little better, but I got overconfident, tried to brush my own hair, and then nearly passed out. I sat on the toilet seat, seeing nothing but black and white spots, my face ashen, insisting to my mother that I was actually dying now. "Just look at me and breathe," she kept urging, and I would say in a tiny, high voice, "But I can't SEE you! I can't see; I'm going blind!" Third time was a lot better; I only got woozy and lightheaded at the very end, and promptly climbed out of the shower, still sudsy and dripping wet, and collapsed on the floor onto a towel.
-Being wheeled into the doctor's office for my appointment on Thursday, still unable to walk unassisted and feeling barely human, only to be greeted by an office which had been without power most of the day and had no air conditioning. It helps a lot, when one is feeling nauseous and dizzy, to have to sit in a ninety degree exam room.
-Throwing up macaroni and cheese at two in the morning. I don't think I will be craving that particular dish for a long, long time.
-Seeing what my legs look like when they have gone a full week without shaving. *repressing shudder*
-Having a frail old woman in the lobby of the medical complex accost me the minute I got in the door Monday morning to demand, "Did you see the news this morning?" "Um, no," I managed, swaying dizzily. She grasped me urgently. "They said don't eat fish! If you're pregnant, you're not supposed to eat FISH now, who knew?! Stay away from the fish, okay?" I mean, she literally was telling me this with the intensity I would expect from someone telling me to flee the building because it was set to explode in five minutes. I tried to focus on her face, which was swimming wildly in front of me. "I promise! No fish!"
-Reading all of your kind, kind comments and feeling very grateful. Also wondering if I can still take Swistle up on the cookie offer even though I did not end up getting a shot. Because lo and behold, I AM recovering, slowly but surely. The first four days were pure hell, but on the fifth morning I did feel ever so slightly better, and have been feeling better-ish every day since then. No magical overnight cure as I was wishing for, but I am now able to walk without help, as long as I have a wall or piece of furniture there to grab, and I am not barfing. Now I just have to try and NOT HAVE THIS BABY until I am all the way better!

The World’s Longest Hangover

My husband is posting this entry, which I have dictated, for me because I am unable to see straight let alone look at a computer screen.

I’ve been to the hospital and back, but no baby yet. I woke up Sunday morning, so dizzy that I couldn’t get out of bed on my own. By the time we made it to the bathroom, I barfed all over. After a couple more hours of dizziness and puking, I called the doctor and he sent us to the hospital for fear of dehydration or preeclampsia. We thought we’d be there for a couple of hours to get hydrated, but after two IV bags, the dizziness and vomiting had not subsided. Since my vitals were all fine, they weren’t really sure what was wrong with me, so I had to stay the night.

The next morning, after a sleepless night of being hooked on monitors and having my blood pressure taken as soon as I managed to fall asleep, there was still no change in my condition. The doctor then ordered a CAT scan to rule out tumors, strokes or seizures. The hour to and from the radiation floor, was the worst in my life to date. I immediately started vomiting as soon the wheel chair transporting me started to move. It didn’t help that the lab technician sent up to fetch me also had a vomit phobia and bolted as soon as the retching began. She hurriedly took off to find a nurse, leaving me gagging alone in the hallway. As I listen to the nurses debate whether or not I could make to the lab, one of the many random strangers passing me in the hallway, decided to stop and offer me a wet washcloth. Finally, a new nurse arrived to take me the rest of the way down. I made it through the CAT scan and back to the wheelchair before I started barfing again.

By the time I got back to my room, they had tried three different kinds of anti-nausea medicine through my IV. The Dramamine finally seemed to help and I mercifully fell asleep. A few hours later, the results of the scan came back normal, which was a relief. I had been lying there imagining scenarios in which I was dying of brain cancer or other rare diseases. When the doctor came back, he said his best guess was that I am suffering from a virus of the inner-ear. Apparently there is nothing they can really do to treat an inner-ear infection other than, ha ha, bedrest. So he said I could go home as soon as I was able to hold down some solid food. I was determined to make it home that night, so through a great effort of sheer willpower, I managed to survive getting dressed and being wheeled down to the lobby without yakking once.

The next day was mostly a blur of sleeping and of course the ever present dizziness, every time I tried to so much as move my head. So far, my condition has not much improved, I’ve managed to keep down a little solid food since I moved home, but not much. The doctor said my condition should improve soon otherwise we’ll have to do more tests.

So please keep your fingers crossed for me and the baby, that I can recover from whatever I have before it’s time to deliver.

P.S. Thanks to Swistle for posting about my current situation. When I can type this myself, I’ll try to give a better account of the story.

Baby Boy- Coming Soon To A Hospital Near Us!

That's what we're anticipating, anyways. I was almost three centimeters dilated today, and had a few pretty strong contractions on the monitor, so the doctor thinks I'm having productive contractions (i.e., causing cervical changes) and not even really feeling them. He said my body just doesn't want to keep babies in all the way to forty weeks, and also threw around the term "incompetent cervix," which I sort of bristled at for some reason. Could they not have thought of a less accusing term than "incompetent"? Like I don't feel guilty enough about it- when I found out I was dilated more, I immediately started the mental chastisement for the times I've cheated a little bit here and there, helping to tuck Addy in for bed, or getting up myself to change DVD's.
So anyways, suffice it to say I'm still on bedrest, and was also commanded to take the Brethine if I felt even one contraction, rather than waiting until I'd had two or three in a row, as I was doing before. So now I get to feel shaky and irritable and like I'm having mini heart attacks all the time! I also got an extra week tacked onto my bedrest sentence, since he noted that with Addy, I went into labor about forty eight hours after I was on my feet again, at thirty six weeks, and he'd like me to make it to thirty seven weeks this time if possible.
This has pros and cons. Pro: I am kind of relieved to hear that the baby will almost certainly be a few weeks early. It may sound horrible, but after all this, I was going to be really depressed if I ended up getting off of bedrest and then went full term, walking around dilated and effaced and anticipating labor every single day for the last four weeks. And I feel pretty confident that the baby will be fine any time he wants to come now. He weighs about five and a half pounds, and I had the shots for his lung maturation. Plus, Addy came at thirty six weeks and had no problems. So chances are he'd be okay, right? I mean, I'd like to get a few more weeks under my belt, but maybe not five more weeks.
Con: I really was counting on being allowed to get up next Thursday. I was so excited- one more week!- and now it seems as though I'm pretty much going to be stuck on this couch until I go into labor. Plus, there were so many little nesting projects floating around in my brain, and I'm probably not going to have time to get to any of them myself. They will either not get done, or be done by someone else. I wanted to put away the tiny clothes and buy the tiny diapers and sterilize the nipples and the breast pump equipment MYSELF, and I wanted to bustle around the house and clean to MY satisfaction for a few days. I haven't done it in so long it would feel fun, I think, like playing house. And then there's the actually fun stuff: I wanted to go out with friends for dinner at least once, and go walk around the mall and pick out a coming home outfit for the baby. I haven't gotten to shop for so much as toilet paper in three weeks! And I'm not really an internet shopping type person- for me it's just not shopping unless you're walking around actually touching and looking at the stuff.
Oh, and in case anyone's still reading this whiny monologue, I've also been having this really deep, bruise like pain in my right knee, but there was no bruise, nothing. I mentioned it to the doctor today, and he made me go to the hospital this evening to have an ultrasound of my leg to rule out a blood clot. Good times. No clot, which I figured, but it was still reassuring, I guess. Just a sucky way to spend an evening.
We also went over our birth plan with the doctor today, which I thought would be a quick thing, but instead he felt compelled to mention after every single point that this would be fine "so long as nothing is going on with you or the baby." I kept saying, "Yes, we know, this is just our ideal. Obviously if something out of the ordinary is going on with the baby, we're flexible," but he seemed to feel the need to keep drilling in the point that the birth plan was only a wish list, not a blueprint. So that was a bit tedious. I understand; I'm sure he has a few patients who are kind of die hards and are married to their birth plans, but I'm totally not like that- I'm still open to an epidural, for instance, if this turns out to be a longer labor than last time.
So... Kind of a bad day, all things considered. Only real highlight: Heath bar cheesecake from Jim's family's coffee house. My favorite dessert in the world, at the moment. Oh and also, my weight was only up a pound this week, as opposed to the ten pound gain of last week. That was kind of a relief. As for all the other crappy news, well, we'll make the best of it. And again, let me just say, I don't know what we'd do if we didn't have such helpful family around. At least I know my mom and mother-in-law would never dream of letting a new baby come home to a less than spotless house, so one way or another things should be clean enough around here to satisfy most of my nesting needs by the time this little guy starts knocking on my cervix door.

Oprah Is Giving Me A Complex

Usually by the afternoon I am feeling pretty bored and more than a tad self-pitying. I lie there on the couch and obsess over things like how long it's been since I shaved my legs, and how the callouses on my heels are disgusting and oh my Lord am I sick of laying here staring at them. I examine with grim self-loathing the cellulite creeping down to my knees, and the stretch marks creeping up on my belly. I bemoan my stringy hair and think about how I would really like to go immediately to the nearest hair salon and get it cut and colored. I feel as though my life is very hard indeed.
And then Oprah comes on, shaming me with tales of Darfur and quadriplegics and the Lost Boys of Sudan who walked thousands of miles across the desert to escape. I have also been given several issues of her magazine to keep me occupied, and usually after reading a few of the articles I feel like a selfish, oblivious, over-indulged American who doesn't read enough, give enough, think enough, or care enough (about things that matter, anyways.)
So, now I have a guilt complex to go with my furry legs and unkempt eyebrows. But also, for the record, isn't Oprah the one who touted that book The Secret on her show? So we will take her sometimes self-righteous wisdom with a grain of salt. I still like her magazine, though.
In other news, here is a list to date of things I have accomplished and/or things that have been accomplished by someone else on my behalf since I have been on bedrest:
1. Nursery painted and decorated.
2. Curtains for Adelay's room finally found, purchased, and hung.
3. A year's worth of photos either filed or scrapbooked.
4. A crosstitch of Tigger very nearly completed, to be hung in the boy's room.
5. A name almost certainly decided on- but not yet to be revealed.
6. My eyebrows allowed to go unplucked, since they were previously way too thin and I didn't know how to solve the problem since I didn't want to go out in public with stray hairs all over my face. But, get ordered to stay in your house 24/7, and suddenly you are handed the perfect opportunity to let those eyebrows go crazy. I think once they're all back in, I'll go get them waxed, since I clearly can't be trusted to tweeze with restraint.
7. Adelay taught to make farm animal sounds based on a wooden puzzle she likes featuring various barnyard creatures. (This was all me, thank you very much.)
8. Addy peed on the potty THREE times this week! And also on the bathroom floor, but still! She is clearly a prodigy with the potty skills. Not even two! And still randomly pees on the little potty if someone rushes her there at the exact time she is planning to pee in her diaper! Amazing!