The Day The Baby Came, Part Two

So where were we? It was around eight or nine at night, I think, and I'd been walking and walking and talking and walking some more, and I was still at five to six cm and still not having regular contractions, but the baby's head had moved lower at least. (Here's where I'm running to the baby's room to get the birth story our doula gave us, because I'm realizing that the timetable in my head is fuzzy at best, and if I have a hard copy available with exact details, I might as well go and fetch it.)

OK, I'm back! And I immediately found a significant detail I had neglected to mention previously: for once, I was group B strep NEGATIVE, so I didn't have to have an IV! I did have to get an INT so that they would have intravenous access if necessary, so the painful insertion process was the same as an IV, but then once it was over, I had no cumbersome pole to drag around with me for the next night and day! I was incredibly psyched about this.

And my timeline was definitely fuzzy, because according to the paperwork here I didn't get my second cervical check until a little after ten, not eight. I had also forgotten that somewhere in between checks I had decided to try bouncing on the birthing ball, but the hospital's was flat, and they had no clue where to find a pump. So Stacy had to go down to her car and get her own ball, which she fortunately brings with her just in case. That was kind of funny at the time, I remember. The nurse had shrugged when questioned about why the ball was flat and said, "Well, no one ever uses it!" So I was the crazy lady in the bathtub room bouncing away on a big red ball to help open her cervix instead of laying in bed, hooked to an IV like a good little patient. :) (I may also have been eating all night long, too, here and there, which I'm pretty sure was technically against their rules. No one said anything to me about it, though.)

It was around this time that I kicked everyone out for a few hours so I could rest in peace. I had kind of been assuming that my doctor would have suggested breaking my water by now, since I'd been at the hospital for four hours or so with hardly any progress, but when the nurse called her with the results of my check she just said, "Sounds good!" So I was feeling a little tired and frustrated- I'd thought that I would be close to pushing by now, given the fact that the nurse kept telling me how the water bag was bulging and all. I had been sure they would've just broken it, or that it would have broken on its own, and then in an hour or so the baby would be out! But things seemed in limbo for the night.

After my family and friends left, Jim and Stacy and I discussed requesting to have my water broken and whether it would be wiser to git 'er done, as it were, or try to sleep through the night and gather some energy, then have the baby in the morning. I was hoping to have a magical water-never-breaking until the pushing phase birth like my friend Jess did, but once again, as in my previous births, not much progress past five cm. seemed to be happening with the water bag intact.

When the nurse came back in to check my monitor (I had gotten in bed to rest for a bit, so they did a twenty minute strip to check on baby and contractions) she said that my doctor had another patient who would be arriving early the next morning for an induction, and that the plan was to hold off on breaking my water until then, assuming it didn't break on its own. My doctor was currently at home and wouldn't be in until the morning UNLESS I insisted on having my water broken right away, and I hated to be the jerk patient who dragged the doctor out of her bed. I also figured that if the doctor wasn't in any hurry to urge the baby out, I guessed I didn't need to be either. Plus that would give me a little extra time to labor him down with my water cushion still intact, which is always less painful, and also to see if maybe for once my water would pop on its own.

So all that to say, I didn't end up getting my water broken that night, and opted instead to try to get some sleep while the contractions were still mild and infrequent. Jim and Stacy stayed, obviously, and so did my sister Laura and friend Jess- the room across the hall was earmarked for me, as a recovery room, so we were allowed to use it as a hotel room of sorts that night as well. Jim, Laura and Jess crashed out on the bed and pull out sofa over there (after making a late night Arby's run) and Stacy stayed on the couch in my room to keep an eye on me and take notes.

I slept fitfully on and off, I think, but most of the time I was just laying there thinking. I was trying to figure out why I still felt hesitant about the labor and delivery process, why I was still a little freaked out at the idea that the baby was COMING and was actually going to be here. With my other two I was always desperate to be done with pregnancy and thrilled to finally be at the hospital, but right then I felt reluctant and wanting to stall, despite the physical discomfort. I kept thinking vaguely, "What if we just went home? Maybe we can wait a week or so still!"

I did a lot of praying and meditating kind of stuff those few hours, trying to relax into the role of mom of three and accept the new stage of life that was beginning. I think that was the problem- I was still so much enjoying just finally being off of bedrest and getting to live my normal life and take care of my family. Everything felt fun, and I knew once the baby came it was going to be a rough jolt into sleepless nights and lots of work all of the sudden, as well as possible jealousy issues from the two kiddos who were currently being so happy and sweet because I was finally off the couch and playing with them. I was reluctant for that post-bedrest bliss phase to end, I think.

I did finally feel at peace, more or less, and also pretty awake again. I hadn't really slept much, especially since they were monitoring me on and off through the night since I was in bed anyways. I barely felt like I had had any contractions. But Stacy said that she had been aware, throughout the two and a half hours I was quiet, of every time I had a contraction because of the way my breathing changed.

Around four fifteen I was awake for good, and Stacy got up and went for a walk with me. I also had a cereal and orange juice snack- I was ravenous again! I don't know how women make it through labor without eating! When we got back to the room we somehow got on the topic of churches, religion and spirituality, which was very interesting and a good distraction from nonstop labor thoughts. Around five fifteen Jim, Jess and Laura woke up, and we went for another lap around the maternity floor. I would have contractions, but nothing on a regular timetable, and nothing I couldn't talk through.

Finally around seven my doctor arrived and checked me. Amazingly, despite pretty much an utter lack of anything I could honestly describe as PAIN pain, I had reached seven to eight cm! When she broke my water bag, the fluid was clear, but there was not much water left in there. We discussed the possibility that I may have been leaking fluid for awhile now, What I had been sure was just constant urine leaks from a giant baby on my bladder may have actually been a small tear in the water sac. But I had had an ultrasound just a week earlier which showed plenty of fluid, so if things had gotten unhealthy in there, at least it hadn't been for too long. Still, it made me feel very relieved that he was coming out now! The doctor reminded me to keep drinking lots of fluids to keep up the water supply for him since I didn't have an IV running.

At this point I was informed that the baby's head was asynclitic, or cocked to one side. This made sense since most of the pain I HAD noticed was in my lower back and tailbone. I was actually relieved- I had guessed he was probably totally sunny-side up, as they say, and at least sideways left a greater chance for turning him around the right way. I had them start filling the birth tub after my water was broken; I figured the contractions were sure to get intense pretty soon and I would want to get in. My body definitely reacted to the change intensely: the first time I stood up after my water was broken, my legs were shaking violently and I could barely stand. And mentally I felt different- I could feel in my bones that real labor had commenced, and I started to panic a little bit. I was afraid of the pain getting suddenly huge, instead of building up gradually like in a normal labor, and I was afraid of the pushing phase, which was now looming.

I remember pulling Jim into the bathroom with me, shutting the door on everyone else, and telling him, "I need you to pray for me now to stay focused." I knew the only way I could have the birth I wanted was if I kept my brain in sync with what my body was doing, instead of letting it freak out at what my body was doing! So we prayed together and hugged for a little while, and I calmed back down and came out feeling ok again. Which, you know, is what you always hope for out of a bathroom trip.

And now, duty calls and I have to stop again. Holy excessive details, I can't believe this is going to take me three posts! (You: no kidding.) But I wanted to tell it the way it came to me, and this is how it's coming to me: in very specific detail. Whadda ya gonna do. Hopefully I'll be back to wrap this up tomorrow!

Freak Out

I interrupt this birth story flow to say that while I was doing remarkably well emotionally the last few weeks, I have finally had evidence of post partum insanity in the form of absolute hysterics re: mice. I mean, mice are gross and their feces can carry germs and all and no one likes finding evidence of them in their homes, but people, I am losing my damn MIND over the sudden mouse spotting in our house. Every closet has been dug through, every piece of furniture moved and cleaned under. I do not understand how, in a house that is pretty darn clean by most people's standards, we are suddenly having this problem. To the point that THREE times now I have actually SEEN a mouse dart out from around our wood stove. SEEN IT WITH MY EYES. And then sat on the couch, frozen in terror for a good ten minutes. This last time, today, just when I was beginning to relax and think that for sure the poison had finally done its work... well, I saw the mouse and then burst into tears. I cried for... a little while, let's just say.

There is poison in every non-kid accessible corner and there are traps in every spot we suspect there to be mouse activity. I don't know what else to do short of getting a few tomcats. But if I see one more effing mouse in my home, I may have to be committed. Seriously.

It Only Took Six Weeks To Write This Post- Part One

SIDE NOTE: Before I launch into recounting my experience with water birth, I just want to mention in passing that having a new baby right before Halloween and the beginning of the holiday season, aka Pumpkin Flavored Everything season, is a terrible idea. Unless of course you're actually LOOKING for an inner tube of fat to cart around above your jeans. (I have to say though, if I could afford to go out and buy a whole new pants wardrobe, I wouldn't really even care right now. But I currently have only one pair of pants that fits me and that aren't maternity, and it's beginning to be embarrassing that I'm still wearing elastic waists. Or maybe not! If you can remember by the end of this sure to be lengthy post, comment and tell me how long it took you to get out of your maternity pants post baby!)

Ok, with that said, let us commence story telling while both boys are still magically sleeping! So if you recall- and you probably don't since even I barely recall it after six weeks- Sunday, September twenty sixth, which made me thirty seven weeks and one day pregnant, I had a lot of symptoms (some grosser than others, and I will leave it to your imagination and any standard pregnancy book to suggest them) that made me think I was going into labor. I laid down on the couch and tried to sleep, though, instead of rushing to the phone and then the hospital, since I'd had enough frustrating experience with false labor in my previous birth that I was determined not to jump the gun this time.

I kept thinking that the level of discomfort was such that if I just went to the hospital, I was sure they'd declare me in labor and let me stay. Keep in mind I was already four centimeters at this point. But I did, after a few hours and a lot of moaning and back pain, manage to go to sleep, and when I woke up there was no baby and no regular contractions. I did have a huge burst of nesting instinct that day, though, and got a ton accomplished from my Do Before Baby list.

Finally, on Tuesday afternoon I had my official thirty seven week check up, which revealed that the weekend's excitement had left me eighty percent effaced and five centimeters dilated. Or in other words, HALF WAY THROUGH LABOR by textbook standards. My doctor sat back, snapped off her glove and regarded me thoughtfully, then said, "So, what are you doing today?" And I looked at her face and said, "Uh... having a baby, I think?"

Then I back pedalled a little, freaking out at the idea that this was it, and also freaking out because I knew I couldn't have a water birth if I had to be on Pitocin, and going to the hospital before I was in an active contraction pattern made me much more likely to end up on Pit. However, I also knew that Addy's fifth birthday party was scheduled for that Saturday, and that I had all but promised her I would not go and have a baby on HER personal birthday. The fact was that if I dug in my heels and insisted on waiting for "real" labor, I was risking: a) going into labor during my daughter's party and/or having the baby on her actual birthday and b) never actually getting into a regular contraction pattern, having my water break suddenly, and then giving birth in my own bathroom while frantically trying to pack for the hospital.

On principle, though, I did weakly ask if I couldn't just wait another day or two and see what happened. My doctor basically said that yes, of course she couldn't DRAG me to the hospital or anything, but then said, "When you come in here five centimeters, I don't willingly send you back home, you know? You're having this baby SOON, one way or another. And if I strip your membranes, I think that should be enough to trigger more progress." I nervously started in with my concerns about Pitocin and still having a water birth, and she looked at me very seriously and said, "I promise there will be no Pitocin. We're not going to need it."

Well, that was good enough for me. I let her strip my membranes (which was a new experience for me! whee!) and then she sent me home to finish packing my bag, get the kids settled in with someone, and then return to the hospital within two hours. I couldn't believe how jittery I was as I got dressed and left the office on shaky legs. The nurse even gave me a hug and said reassuringly, "It's going to be great!" That drive home was one of the most surreal experiences of my life. I couldn't believe it was actually happening, after all these weeks of lying around trying to keep this baby IN. Now he was coming OUT, and I still wasn't sure I was ready for labor or for the reality of three kids. I spent that ten minute drive alternately calling everyone who needed to know and taking deep cleansing breaths, muttering, "Here we go!"

When I got home, my brother in law, who had been watching the kids during my doctor's appointment and had agreed to stay with them until the baby came, took off to run a few errands while I packed and got my head on straight. I totally wandered around the house in a daze, loading random cups into the dishwasher, beginning and then abandoning little chores, and slowly packing the last of my things. I remember Addy basically packed my toiletries bag for me. If it hadn't been for her, I would have forgotten my glasses. Through all this, I was having mild contractions here and there, but still nothing different than the last few weeks.

When I had finished doing every last thing, including sterilizing the breast pump parts and packing the clearance-three-dollar-wearing-in-the-birthing-tub-and-then-throwing-away dress, Jim arrived home to drive me to the hospital and Brett got back to watch the kids. I had no excuse to not get in the car, so I kissed the kids goodbye and heaved my pregnant self into the passenger seat for the last time. I was still in a total daze.

At this point we were running a little late, but I hadn't had dinner yet and I knew I wanted to eat before we checked in. So we stopped at our family's coffee house on the way downtown, where I promptly had several humongous contractions that led me to call our doula and ask her to hurry. This was unfortunate, since she hurried so fast that she ended up beating us to the maternity ward. Whoops. But I partly blame the tripping of the fire alarm in the hospital lobby right when we got there to check in, which seriously slowed down the process. In hindsight it was kind of funny, but at the time, I was just nervous and annoyed and beginning to go deaf from the blaring alarm.

Anyhoo, so I got wheeled up to the birthing suite, hooked up to the monitors for the routine twenty minute strip, asked a bunch of questions, and checked. Five to six centimeters, is what the nurse said, so it seemed I had made some progress already. I was having only irregular contractions on the monitor, but they were happening, so I was officially in labor by hospital standards. I still felt no different than I had the last few weeks, though, and was talking and smiling. We spent lots of hours just walking around the halls and talking with our various visitors, including my mom and dad, sister, and Jess. By the next check I was still five to six centimeters, but the nurse said his head was lower.

...AND break.

Mastitis

It really sucks. The end.

Oh and also, I am really sorry I'm barely commenting on anyone else's blogs since this bebe came along. I have yet to master the art of nursing while keeping my hands free, and basically every time I'm sitting down and free to read blogs, I'm nursing, so... I'm still reading you guys! And I miss you!

It's Long, But There Are Baby Pictures!

So, I'm managing to post before another week is up. I also managed to clean out the fridge and grocery shop already this week, so I think I must be getting back to normal a bit.

We have a new dishwasher. Old one decided to break a week ago, so Jim tore it out, only for us to discover that despite living in a town with about five different appliance vendors, and despite requiring only a basic, run of the mill, nothing fancy dishwasher, no one had such a thing in stock and it would be at LEAST four days to order one. Um, no. House with newborn and two preschoolers needs a working dishwasher. Or a maid. Or someone with a system already in place for handwashing dishes. We don't even have a drying rack.

So I had a minor meltdown basically summed up by THIS SITUATION IS UNACCEPTABLE AND NOT MY FAULT THEREFORE IT WILL BE YOUR FAULT BECAUSE I NEED TO BE MAD AT SOMEONE. Then I went to a little locally owned appliance store at eight o' clock at night, found one close to the one we had chosen online but pricier, went to Lowe's and procured a signed copy of their sale price on said model (which would've taken two weeks to order from them) and then went back to local store and got it price matched. Next day, the dishwasher was ours!

And dang it, it still doesn't dry plastic stuff very well. Stupid high efficiency, energy saving b.s. But at least I have a sanitize cycle now in case, say, we have company for dinner and then find out the next day that they all have come down with flu.

What else... Oh! We had our follow up meeting with our doula, and it went really well. She gave me the birth story she recorded, and I also watched the birth video finally, so I feel like the experience is clear in my mind again and I will be able to do it justice in writing now. She gave me some breastfeeding advise and sympathy (because holy cluster feedings, Batman!) and we took pictures together. I was so happy to see her again. It's a strange relationship; someone becomes so important to you in this very specific way, and after a third baby, I'm thinking, "It's possible I might never see her again!"

Even though I DO think I want at least one more eventually, I'm not counting on anything. My record of pregnancy success is still three out of six, so I am very grateful and content right now with what we have. I also like to end on a high note, so to speak, so the idea of trying again feels kind of like... tempting fate, and messing up the happy ending. But seriously. I'm twenty six years old, and have a condition which doesn't allow me to take hormonal birth control. What are the odds I never get pregnant again, even if we don't technically "try" anymore? Yeah. So I kind of imagine I WILL see our doula again, is what I'm saying. :) I just really hope the streak of failed pregnancies has ended. Even now, with a chubby cheeked newborn beside me, the memory of the night I thought I was losing him to miscarriage is vivid in my mind. It was the most horrified I've ever felt, I think, and I never want to feel that way again.

Um, whoops! Totally had no intention of going down that particular rabbit trail today. But that's where my mind went, so I guess in the interest of honesty I'll leave it. But here's what I sat down intending to share today, so without further ado:











This was immediately after the sibling photo shoot. Just wanted you to know he didn't suffer for long. But yeah, that was a failed attempt at a photo op, over all. Eli was furious at being forced to wear a collared shirt, and the baby was just plain furious, as he often and randomly is, so that shot was the best we could do.

Eli's been quite... difficult lately, to be frank. Every time we go to a store he ends up running from me. He's fighting with Addy constantly. And the last week or so he has been having accidents on a daily basis, most of them very obviously intentional. Like yesterday, when I told him he couldn't have Halloween candy for breakfast, and he sat down on Addy's rug, peed, and then looked up at me angrily.

I mostly am at a loss. I know pottying is one of the most common ways toddlers act out after a new baby arrives. I know that with a (coughcoughkind of grouchy and needycoughcough) newborn in the house, he's getting less attention and probably feels like the only time anyone talks to him is to scold him. I know I'm holding him less than I was just a few weeks ago, and that must feel very abrupt and confusing to him. Sigh. I also know that there is a limit to how much crazy I can tolerate in one house before I go straight out of my mind, so I need this phase to cease very quickly. Beyond being hard to deal with, it makes me very sad for him. I just want him to feel better.

There Is No Possible Title For This Nonsense

Here's what I can't believe: Jameson is three weeks old and I haven't even attempted to tell any sort of official birth story, not even in the baby journal I keep for each kid while I'm pregnant. I especially can't believe it because I think he has such a cool birth story and it went beautifully and there is no reason I would be reluctant to tell it. I'm just so.darn. tired. is all. But I swear to you, one of these days my post is going to be called "I'm A Total Hippie Who Had A Baby In A Bathtub" or something like that, and it will be essay-length at the least and will have every detail I can remember. Because I really do want to write about it. Just as soon as I sleep for about twenty four hours straight.

I have gotten a grand total of two (2) naps since the baby was born, and he is just as rotten a sleeper as his brother before him was, so during the daytime I often feel like I'm just slogging through on autopilot. It takes me half an hour to get around to simple tasks like wiping a counter or switching a load of laundry, because about seventy five percent of the time I lay the sleepy little Jamie James down, he wakes back up and starts screeching for me.

He also doesn't sleep well at nighttime unless he is physically on my body, which has been very difficult because I am not comfortable with bedsharing and therefore spend half the night propped on the couch, dozing lightly, with the baby swaddled and wedged in my elbow as safely as I can figure out. The other half is when I actually get him into his bouncy seat without waking him, then lay rigid on the couch, trying not to get TOO comfortable just yet on the very good chance that he will start wailing within five minutes and I, having just fallen asleep only to be awakened, will then want to kill myself/roll over and ignore him/barf from sheer exhaustion.

Also, Eli has wet the bed every night for a week. He doesn't react well to this, or to the resultant clothing/bedding changes, but he still adamantly resists the wearing of a Pull Up, and I certainly don't want to force him to wear what he equates with a diaper. On the other hand, I don't like that laundry has apparently become my new hobby.

But! Once I am actually awake and functioning again in the morning (usually by eleven, if we're being honest) things are okay. Jameson sleeps in his carseat pretty well, at least, though he still wakes up every two hours to eat, which has already led to two public nursing sessions. Interestingly, both were in TJMaxx, which leads me to think I'm spending too much time there. It's one of my favorite places to kill time/get out of the house before picking up Addy from preschool. I'm not actually spending much MONEY there though, because I just keep buying wall art and then returning it. I'm terrible at visualizing things, so I have to actually take the thing home and hang it up before I realize it doesn't match at all. Plus, obviously, I'm delirious, so that doesn't help. But at least I'm not spending all day at home in my pajamas, right? Just nursing a baby in the front seat of my car or in a dirty bathroom stall while my son plays with the feminine hygiene product disposal box. That's MUCH better.

Incidentally

-I've had several pumpkin spice lattes in the last few weeks (half caf! most of the time!) and have noticed that sometimes they taste SCRUMPTIOUS and I think that I have never had a yummier coffee drink, and then other times they taste exactly like sipping on a gaggy-smelling scented candle. I think I'm going to chalk this up to my weird olfactory senses due to my worst case of hay fever ever, rather than assuming there is really that much inconsistency in the way the drinks are being made.

-Between me, the dog and Jameson, our family has made a grand total of six doctor visits in the last two weeks, and that's not counting the four bilirubin draws. When I was little and fantasizing about having babies, I had no idea how much of my job as a mother would be simply ferrying people to various medical facilities and signing under "guardian" on various forms for them.

-The one visit that was for me was for an injury I sustained during Jameson's birth- to my BICEP. Yes, that's correct, I have been diagnosed with bicep tendonitis, which presumably occured during the pushing part of baby's birth, when I was gripping metal bars on the walls above the sides of the tub. The bars are at kind of a high, awkward angle (you can actually see it in one of the pictures in the black and white slideshow, I think) and my doula and one of the nurses both warned me that some moms find them uncomfortable. I found it helpful at the time to have something to grab on to, though, and didn't notice any pain in my right shoulder/arm until about three days later, which not coincidentally is when I began weaning off the prescription-strength Motrin my doctor gave for cramping.

At first I thought I was having a bad reaction to the TDaP booster I got at the hospital (we've had some nasty pertussis outbreaks in our area recently) but when it didn't get better and was in fact getting worse, I finally went in to have it checked out. Bad news. Also, bad luck, 'cause there's not much to do for tendonitis issues other than physical therapy (don't have time for THAT right now,) steroid shots (can't do while nursing,) strong painkillers (ditto w/ the nursing issue,) and resting the effected muscle (kinda tricky with a newborn that constantly needs carried and breastfed!) So I'm just taking Advil round the clock, trying to ice it when I remember, and favoring my left arm as much as possible.

-We are finally running out of leftovers from all the food the Church Ladies brought us, which means... I will soon have to do a real grocery trip (as opposed to quick runs for necessities like Kotex and Peanut M and M's.) I am anticipating it with about the same mentality as I did labor: an extreme challenge both physically and mentally, and one which I have not undertaken for awhile, but from which afterwards I will hopefully emerge feeling spent and exhausted but triumphant and fulfilled.

Or I might just flee the store, covered in milk leaks and hormone sweat, and get takeout Chinese. Like an epidural, it's an option that I never like to ENTIRELY rule out. Just in case.

Oh, You Wanted PICTURES, Did You?

In preface let me just say, this is a whole lotta pictures right here. This is kind of for family, too, this blog, so I figure occasionally I owe everybody a post without my rambling and WITH plenty of pictures.



Probably never saw a woman look so downright cheerful in labor, huh? This was after being sent from the doctor's office over to the hospital, at five centimeters with a bulging water bag, but still not regularly contracting. So it was kind of party time for a while yet.


Belly parade: me, 37 wks. and 3 days; my sister Laura, 24 weeks; and Jess, 17 wks.


My water is broken now. Much less enthusiastic smile.










My mom.


First family photo shoot... Addy was not in the mood. But there's always one, right?


Our doula, Stacy.


Jim's dad.


Laura



Sadly, the mohawk has gone down now.


My sister Rachel.


Jim's sister Jenn.







She seems to have forgiven him for stealing her thunder at the birthday party.

Not A Birth Story

...Because wow, having three kids can really take it out of you, even with a wonderful support system and a super helpful husband and very nice friends bringing so much food that Jim finally catalogued it all in a list so that we could REMEMBER what we had to choose from without staring into the fridge for a full five minutes.

It appears, upon rereading that paragraph, that it is the world's longest run-on sentence. Ah well. No time for rewrites!

We are all doing quite well, overall, except for our poor dog, who chose this point in time to develop a raging eye infection that we first assumed to be a cataract. By the time we'd noticed he was having trouble, he was half the time not even using his bad eye, just letting it close or roll back in his head. Ack. But vet says its just a bad infection (well, actually something else besides a run of the mill infection that neither of us can remember the name of, but) and that he should recover with vigilant eye-dropping three times daily. Because we're not doing enough disgusting things round the clock right now; additional thrice daily dog-face wrestling sessions were exactly what we were hoping for.

Anyways! Enough about the dog, GEEZ. The BABY is so adorable and smells so scrumptious, and the kids are being so gentle and sweet with him. The only moment of detectable jealousy I've seen so far is when Addy's friends from down the road came over for a belated birthday tea party, but spent most of their time ogling the new baby and ignoring the birthday girl's requests (ahemwhinyDEMANDScoughcough) to play dress up with her. It got a bit ugly, frankly, and by the time they left Adelay was actively crying. "It is MY birthday and they just want to look at that BABY!" she sobbed. It was very very sad, and I was very sad for her. There just wasn't much to do to make it better, though. So Jim took her for ice cream, which turned out to be pretty healing.

But yeah, relatedly, Addy's birthday was Sunday, and we had a family party planned for Saturday and went ahead with it... Which was maybe crazy but everybody brought food over, and my MIL cleaned my house and my sister made the cake and overall that went off pretty well, though having a house full of new baby paraphernalia AND new birthday stuff makes for a very cluttery house, let me tell you.

Addy also started dance class last night, and everyone yelled at me for being out and about after just giving birth a week ago. They were kind of right, but also, kind of wrong, 'cause dang if I don't feel pretty ok most of the time already. Not to spoil The Birth Story or anything, and also not to put too fine a point on it (sorry guys and squeamish girls,) but there's a big difference between going home with a newborn AND a giant rip in your body and going home with just the newborn part. You might feel so shockingly normal you find yourself crazily asking to go home from the hospital a day early, which is in hindsight SUPER DUMB of you now that you're remembering what tired really feels like.

Not that Jameson is so fussy or such a dreadful sleeper, but his bilirubin levels were high and rising, so each morning for four days after we got home I had to take him BACK to the hospital to get a heel prick blood draw, which is an excruciating process on a newborn, especially one with the skinniest feet you've ever seen, not an ounce of cushiony fat to spare. I'd have to sit in another room and wait while he screamed, and then they'd bring him to me to nurse him back to sleep. Four days in a row, plus two doctor's appointments already. So between that and the girl's birthday parties and dance class and preschool and the dog's eye, my brain and body are both a bit taxed. But thankfully his levels finally started going down, right before we were about to start the dreaded lights.

We're also weaning him off the formula supplements, which we were offering at the doctor's insistence to try to help flush the bili out. Now that he's without those occasional ounces of formula, baby has been nursing like a rabid wolverine, hours at a time sometimes, so that's fun too. I honestly don't know how I'd be managing right now if Jim weren't working half days still and my mom wasn't available to drop Addy off at her preschool. I sort of feel pinned to the couch much of the time, which is totally normal of course, and I love the snuggle time and the fact that he's such an eager nurser, but it's a little stressful with two wily opportunists lurking around, bent on killing each other or eating jumbo bags of M and Ms every time they see you sit down and pop the boob out.

Speaking of, just had to go rescue the saddest little newborn ever (seriously, I forgot how their little cries actually sound just like they're saying, "Waaah!") and am now typing one handed, so that's it for now. More from the frontlines soon!

Birthday

Jameson Beckett Isaac arrived on Wednesday morning at 11:15! He was 6 lbs, 11 ozs, and 20 inches long. His birth and all the details of the first day (and never ending night!) at home will follow soon, but for now there is this awesomeness, thanks to my wonderful friend Jess:

About Last Night

Yesterday evening around nine, things started happening exactly how they happened the night I went into labor with Eli: I was bleeding; my legs felt shaky and my lower back was suddenly killing me; my hips were getting that suspicious, coming-apart feeling; the contractions were feeling a lot more intense; more pulling and pressure.... I was sure I was starting to have this baby, and instead of being excited, I freaked a little. Mentally I hadn't expected it to be that soon; I've been trying so hard not to get impatient this time, to just take every day at a time and to ignore all labor symptoms until they get un-ignorable. So instead of flying around the house trying to speed up the contractions, I was puttering around slowly, doing housework in a daze and trying to distract myself. Maybe if I just pick up toys and wipe counters like usual, the pain will go away!

It didn't, but after an hour or so (and after coming out of my denial and realizing I needed to choose some kind of mental framework for the evening) I decided that whether or not it was the real thing, the best decision would be to lay down and try to sleep. If it was false labor, I would relax eventually and it would go away. If it was real, I was going to need my rest, and laying down wasn't going to stop anything for very long anyways. This had been my biggest fear the night I started to have Eli: that if I laid down to rest at all, labor would halt permanently and I would have just wasted the whole night of work and excitement. Look at me, older and wiser now.

Anyways, I laid down and quickly felt very sleepy, but my hips and back were hurting so badly I couldn't get comfortable or relax. I was actually moaning every time I had a contraction, which is pretty weird for me that early in labor. Jim brought me a hot pack, and that plus some counter pressure behind me on the couch finally let me drift off to sleep. Whereupon the "labor" disappeared, more or less. When morning came, I mostly just felt relieved. It just hadn't seemed like it was time yet, even though if you had asked me around dinner time the day before I would have said, "Bring it on!"

Thinking I was maybe in labor totally sent that nesting instinct into overdrive, though. I was up at seven this morning assembling the swing, and then went crazy with housework and projects all day long: finally preregistering at the hospital, which I'd been putting off, since I wasn't sure until Saturday which one I'd be delivering at; making annoying medical bill phone calls; cleaning out the front closet for the coat drive at Addy's school and then delivering said coats; going through all the kids' clothes from this summer, sorting some to donate, some to save, and some to throw away (holy stains, Batman); washing and putting away all the fall clothes; doing general laundry; vacuuming the entire house; making a trip to Goodwill with all the "to donate" stuff; doing three different errands with Eli during preschool hours; washing the stroller cover and reassembling it (which requires SCREWS and SNAPS and oh my gosh why must be it so HARD to remove a stroller cover!?) and basically doing any and everything I could to take advantage of another day before the baby comes to get stuff done.

Now I am about dead with fatigue, but I feel very accomplished and a little more ready. The camera and video camera are both ready now (Jim took care of those while thinking I was maybe in labor!) and I do indeed even have a bag packed. I think the only baby thing left to do is get out the breast pump, which I don't even want to LOOK at, but I suppose I'd better have it ready since I'm sure to need it at some point.

Okay, time to sleep now... Let's hope Eli doesn't wake Jim and me up six times tonight like he did last night. Yep, no exaggeration. Peed the bed twice, peed on his shorts and the bathroom rug once, and yelled for his blankets/stuffed animals/the very molecules of AIR around his bed to be rearranged three other times in between. I'm not sure if a night of labor could really have been worse, actually.

Thirty Seven Weeks

Let's hope this is the last update picture needed until the baby makes his arrival.
(Also, let's hope one of these days I learn to slap on at least a LITTLE bit of makeup before I decide to put a picture of my puffy pregnant face on teh internetz.)

Still Pregnant, But Now With Pictoral Updates!

First off, I would just like to remind God or Nature or Global Warming or whomever is responsible for the mid-nineties temps we've been having the last few days that it is September twenty fourth. For the love of giant pregnant women everywhere, enough with the sweltering heat. Also, there's just something weird about seeing people raking leaves shirtless because summer and fall are still duking it out.

If anyone's reading this on my actual site and not through a reader, you'll notice that on my baby ticker up there, I am thirty six weeks and six days pregnant. I'm gonna make it, you guys! I'm gonna make it to term, and I'm gonna get my water tub, though whether I use it for actual delivery is still totally up in the air. But I can if I want to, and that's all I asked for, so I'm happy.

So yeah, as of tomorrow I am good to go. I've met with our doula twice, got the birth plan okayed by the doctor, and set up the cosleeper. The adorable newborn dress up outfits and the cloth cover for the swing are currently in the washer, and the carseat is all cleaned and ready to go. We haven't installed it yet though because it will require moving Addy all the way to the back of the van and I'm reluctant to do it until we HAVE to, as she still isn't able to buckle herself in despite repeated tutorials. I've done all kinds of random cleaning projects that have absolutely nothing to do with the baby but which I felt compelled to get done before his arrival, like purchase new doormats, sweep the front porch, wash the front door, shower off all the houseplants, and dust the door frames. There are other, more practical things I still haven't done, like dig out the breast pump and pack a bag for the hospital, but I have to leave something to do in case I'm still pregnant for weeks, right? Plus the bag packing is way overrated, I think. All you really need is toiletries, one outfit for you and baby, and maybe your slippers. Anything else someone can go get you later.

The things we really should be getting ready and haven't yet are the camera and video camera. Must get to that this weekend. Though again, this is totally something that could be done by Jim while I'm pacing around timing contractions early on, but just in case we have some kind of emergent, water breaking and sudden baby head crowning situation, I suppose that stuff should be done ahead of time.

Speaking of baby head crowning, did I mention I'm four centimeters now? Yeps. And contracting just constantly, whenever I'm on my feet. It's ever so slightly uncomfortable. Also, anytime I go anywhere, I know people think I'm actually IN early labor and walking around to get things moving, because of how I shuffle painfully and then pause every five minutes or so. I guess technically I am in early labor, except that mine may last for weeks yet. I have determinedly resisted timing anything, and the doula and I agreed, based on my last labor, that barring water breakage or the sudden need to push or whatever, I should assume it's all false labor until things really start to hurt. Regular contractions don't necessarily mean anything, as long as I can still breathe through them and talk a little.


(This was actually taken about seven weeks ago- just thought I'd throw it up for comparison's sake and then tomorrow I'll post one of the current Bellah.)

My left foot is still being a pain, and gets a lot more swollen than the right one by the end of the day. Also I've given up wearing my ring, since I always have to take it off by dinnertime. This puffiness is weird for me. The other times it was always just my face that swelled up. Again, thanks for the heat and humidity, Stubbornly Lingering Summer!

Addy's finished her second full week of preschool, and so far I think it's been wonderful for everyone. She is always excited to go, and I've been doing at least one little errand or shopping trip or ice cream date with Eli every day during those hours. It's so nice to be out with just one kid, and I think it's important for him to get in some alone time with mama before the baby comes. He's been behaving himself MUCH better since I've been off bedrest, and I am so glad we've had these days to get back to normal before baby arrives. Obviously, I can't plan on shopping every preschool day, but it is a good chance to break up annoying errands and get them done a little at a time when I actually have a chance to enjoy one kid instead of, you know, corraling the herd.



As for the girl herself, we hear mostly about snack time and the playground, of course, but she's bringing home lots of correctly filled in worksheets, so that's nice to see. She also came home the other day with a bracelet, which I mistakenly assumed to have been a craft project, but which, as it turns out, one of the little boys had made for her at home- in pink, because it's her favorite! "He just likes me," she shrugged when I asked her about it. Well, and who wouldn't.

La La La

Whew, it's been a busy week! To start with, Wednesday was my first official day off of bed rest, and I spent it happily cleaning my kitchen. Oh, it was glorious. I think I spent twenty minutes just on the sink. Not that it was THAT awful, don't get me wrong, I was just in my element and kind of couldn't make myself stop scrubbing even when it was, in fact, technically probably clean. The rest of the day was spent puttering around putting things where they belonged, and then, that evening, I actually got to attend my first of Addy's soccer games. It was just awesome to get to watch how she literally skips and frolics around the whole time. Is she the team's secret weapon in terms of defense or scoring? Not exactly. But she is without doubt enjoying herself utterly, and it was pure pleasure to watch.

Thursday was my birthday (twenty sixth if anyone's counting- oh and I am! I'm now closer to thirty than twenty.) I took myself shopping, somehow injured my left foot while walking around, came home and had a nap, and then Jim and I had a great dinner out and did some more shopping, this time for Adelay's upcoming birthday. It would have been a fantastic birthday start to finish if not for the foot thing, which honestly sucked a lot and continues to suck. If I'm on it for more than an hour or so I literally can't stand to put weight on it anymore. All the sudden puffiness from being up and around again isn't helping it, I imagine. Practically overnight, my legs went from being generally stocky to being total bratwursts about to explode out of their casings. Also, I can't tell anymore if my feet have bones in them. They just look like... pads of flesh with chubby little toes stuck at the end. Gag. And also, ouch.

But anyways! Physical miseries aside I am in such a good mood the last few days, and have been way too busy enjoying my real life again to feel like blogging. Sorry. I've been to every store in town, I think, just for the fun of it, and also to stock up on last minute baby stuff! Squee! I got a prenatal massage on Friday which was heavenly, and did a lot to help my messed up spine and hips after all the laying around. The therapist informed me that my sacrum was completely open and that she'd "be surprised" if I didn't give birth within days. I just laughed and told her, "I've heard that before."

And then you know what I did Saturday? I went to a fall festival/art fair thingie with my mom and sister, had lunch out, and then got a pedicure! And you know what happened while I was doing all that fun stuff? My house was being cleaned top to bottom by someone who was not me, i.e. someone who didn't have a thirty pound watermelon in front of her and who had enough energy to do more than ten minutes of housework before needing a nap! She did a great job and the house felt so weirdly clean I almost didn't want to let anyone back into it for fear of wrecking the perfection. (Addy, when she entered the house: "What is that nice smell?" Me: "That's clean, honey.")

So anyways, I have had a great first week back in the real world; everyone was so thoughtful (thank you again!) in making sure all my wishes came true- a giant steak dinner, a German chocolate cake, A CLEAN HOUSE, etc. I feel very spoiled and also very relieved, and I feel more or less ready now for the baby to make his arrival whenever. Though I'd still really like him to hold out until Saturday so I have the option of water birth. But, I stopped the contraction meds today and have since been having pretty regular balling up and pressure, so, he may have other plans. Got another delightful cervix check tomorrow, so we'll see if all that discomfort did anything! Or, you know, he may follow in big brother's footsteps and just tease me for two weeks with false labor. That would be adorable.

Why Giselle Bundchen Needs To Hush Up

Every time I've been pregnant I get kind of panicky at the end. Have I enjoyed it enough? Did I savor the experience properly, in case it was the last time? Did I bond with the baby as best I could? Did I eat well enough, did I yell too much, stress out too much, eat too few veggies, did I listen to music that would enrich his little brain? Should I have stayed off my cell phone, like that recent article in some PregnancyGuilt magazine suggested, in case the emissions are harmful? Did I doom my child to a low IQ because I slacked off on taking my omega-3 capsules? Did I do it right, basically?

In a culture in which most women are only pregnant two or three times in their childbearing years (as opposed to upwards of ten pregnancies, like in the good old days,) I think there is a lot of pressure to enjoy the perfect pregnancy. To wear cute maternity clothes, to keep up your fitness routine, to eat just right for baby, to bond with your baby, to not allow pregnancy to in any way diminish your marriage or sex life, to read all the books, to take birthing and breastfeeding and baby care classes, and of COURSE to prepare a detailed birth plan and then "achieve" exactly the birth you envision for yourself and your baby. I am no exception to this trend. I am the consummate consumer of the idea that there IS such a thing as the ideal pregnancy and birth and babyhood, much as my common sense and experience strives to tell me otherwise. It's a lovely fairy tale that I just keep coming back to.

The other day, to try to combat this mindset of Panic! that I had once failed to realize a blissful pregnancy experience, I started composing a little mental list of things that just plain suck about childbearing, no matter how "right" you try to do it. Here's my list: feel free to add your own contribution in the comment section!

Overall Inconveniences/Pain:

-Morning sickness (a lucky few skip this one; mine has gotten worse each time)

-First trimester fatigue, i.e., Why Do I Feel Like I've Been Run Over By A Bus All The Time?

-Back/hip/sciatic nerve pain (again, doesn't apply to everyone, and certainly varies in severity, but most women are complaining of this by the last trimester)

-Needing to pee constantly (up to and including the utter indignity of needing to WEAR A PAD to handle sudden leaks every time you cough and sneeze due to all the weight of your baby's giant head on your bladder. Um, not that I would know about that at all. Not that I am exceedingly bitter about that at all.)

-Weird skin changes (example: I have had a heat rash this entire pregnancy.)

-Moodiness/irritability (I hear some people don't experience this, or even feel extra peaceful and calm while pregnant. I also hear pigs fly, but you know, it could happen, I guess.)

-Water retention, i.e. Sudden Appearance of Double Chins and Disappearance of Ankles

-Balance/clumsiness issues, eventually leading to the dreaded Pregnant Waddle

-Headaches (not everyone, just a select lucky few)

-Blood pressure and/or diabetes issues (same as above)

-Heartburn (and, uh, RELATED gastro-intestinal issues. Like, everything listed on the side of a Pepto Bismal bottle, basically.)

-Random strangers thinking they can touch your belly, give you advice, tell you what to eat, etc.

-Blood draws, glucose tests and endless, sometimes seemingly pointless doctors' visits, including irritating weigh-ins

-Shaving becomes a real feat, especially in Certain Areas

-Insomnia (I hear SOME PEOPLE end up kicking their husbands out of bed due to their need for four enormous pillows in order to support their back, knees and belly, as well as their need to change position approprimately forty times throughout the night. Or maybe the husbands fled in self defense- the details are a little sketchy.)

-Baby kicks that go from amazing flutters to karate chops on your internal organs that can make you gasp in pain (and also keep you awake at 2Am every night because your baby has deemed it Aerobics Hour.)

-General loss of dignity by the end due to repeated pelvic exams and public weigh ins.

-The constant worrying, no matter how hard you work to suppress it (again, I HEAR this doesn't affect everyone, but I've so far met only one woman who personally attested to it.)

-Stretch marks, which are totally indiscriminate little suckers and can show up on tiny-bellied women while completely bypassing the giant watermelon tummies. It's all up to fate, and Bio-Oil is just an exercise in delusion.

-Last but not least, birth. I don't care if you get an epidural upon admission to the hospital, there is SOME pain involved in getting a baby out of you, either before or after, and it is simply part of the deal. You can't get something the size of a house cat out of any bodily orifice or man made incision without suffering some residual effects, you know?

Next post I'll do the cool aspects of pregnancy, just to keep things fair and balanced, but today is all about reminding myself that many parts of pregnancy do in fact suck, and not just for me but for every pregnant woman, no matter how blissful she may look on the cover of a magazine. Now, what was YOUR least favorite part of being with child? Or your biggest fear about it, if you haven't done it yet?

Don't Expect Smooth Segues Today

For the last week or so I've enjoyed some kind of seasonal allergy crap which is giving me this nasty sinus drainage cough and I swear, some days I think I am going to COUGH this baby right out of me. Other than that, nothing new to report from the couch, really, other than the discoveries that so far, Mucinex and Claritin, taken individually and in conjunction, do just about nothing to help.

Baby was five pounds three ounces as of Tuesday... which is what Addy weighed when she was born. Sobering. This is a child that could be BORN soon. I still don't feel ready! I thought for sure I'd be eager to be done with pregnancy by now, but I find I am not, and am in fact downright terrified about coming off of bedrest next week, even though obviously I am overall WAY EXCITED about the prospect. But I just don't want to have the baby quite yet! Maybe I won't though. Maybe I'll just walk around four centimeters dilated and contracting constantly for weeks on end... Hmm, on the other hand, screw it. Let's get him out of there.

Adelay started preschool yesterday. I cheated JUST a tidge and actually took her to the open house myself on Wednesday- it's just five minutes away, and I sat the whole time, and we left after half an hour. It was very well behaved cheating. Her teachers seem nice (though they wore matching outfits, which seems like trying too hard to me, but whatevs) and the other seventeen kids seemed, you know, like normal five year olds. Friendly enough. Mutual interest in sliding and pretending to be mermaids, that kind of things. And Addy seemed not at all nervous or upset about the whole school thing. She sat quietly at the open house, observing, until the kids were freed to play outside together, when she promptly found a nice little friend to start gently bossing around the playground. So about par for the course, I'd say.

I did find that the liliputian dimensions of the classroom made me distinctly uncomfortable after about five minutes, however. All those tiny tables and chairs, and literally nothing designed for an adult in the whole room. I felt like a bumbling giant, especially with my enormous tummy floating in front of me; I was sure I was going to break the tiny chair. I don't think I'm cut out to be a preschool teacher, that's for sure. I felt very eager to escape the Cheerful! and Colorful! and Miniature! confines of the classroom and get out onto the playground, where there was, at least, a bench made for grown ups.

I keep meaning to get someone to scan ultrasound photos for the blog, or at least post some pictures. However, I can't find any of the recent downloaded photos on this computer. That's the problem with having three computers and an external hard drive. I know I downloaded all the recent pictures, but I can't seem to remember where. I promise I'll post a picture again one of these days.

In the meantime, does anyone have any suggestions for good music to put on a Labor/Delivery playlist? Assuming I happen to feel like listening to music, and am not too busy changing my mind about the soothing benefits of water and screaming for drugs, I figure I should probably have my ipod on hand.

Countdown

Welp, nearly four weeks down, two to go. September eighteenth, people! Though, I have to make it to thirty seven weeks, which would be September twenty fifth, in order to be allowed a water birth, so that's my REAL goal. Either way, though, two weeks, three- that's not a lotta time until this baby comes. Gulp. Or could be even sooner, realistically....

Because yes, I am yet another centimeter dilated (three now, if anyone's counting) and I was having contractions on the monitor during my non stress test on Thursday, so guess who won herself another trip to the hospital? Including yet another "clean" urine sample which must be obtained by catheterization, my least favorite medical process EVER. The last time I got one, back at thirty weeks, the lady literally made me cry. This nurse was much better, like, AN ANGEL OF MERCY in comparison, but it still sucks, as does the IV.

Fortunately they let me go by six PM that night, so I was only there about eight hours total, but of course the torture device of a bed, meant to be broken down for delivery, wrecked my back for the night so that I might as well have been sleeping in the hospital for all the actual rest I got. However, the nurse I had, besides being very skilled with the catheterization procedure, was also very funny to talk to. (Though it may partly have been the doubled dose of contraction meds, which made me very light headed for awhile.) She was telling me about how they used to deal with preterm labor before the discovery that drugs like Brethine and Procardia (which are actually for asthma and blood pressure, respectively) suppress contractions in many people.

Apparently, the old solution used to be getting the moms drunk. Seriously. She said they'd just run their IVs with a ten percent alcohol solution until their mussels were relaxed enough to stop the cramping, but that by that point, most of them were totally wasted, sometimes to the point of throwing up, cussing at people, groping their husbands, etc. Then before they could go back home, they'd have a wicked hangover to deal with. Ah, the good old days...

She also reminisced at length about all the old methods of natural delivery that were in vogue before epidural use became widespread. Lamaze, Bradley, Le Boyer, I got the rundown on all of them. THEN she sniffed and said, "And then that was that birth tub fad for a little while. Glad we stopped doing that!" (Clarification: the hospital I was in does not currently offer water birth, but it is still my preferred hospital in general, so until I'm far enough to be allowed a water birth, that's the one I've been chosing to go to.)

So I couldn't resist, of course, and mentioned that if I get to term, I actually plan on trying water birth myself at the competing hospital. She shrugged and said, "Well, I know a lot of people like it for pain relief. But honey- you should know that that water is not exactly sparkling clean once you have a baby in it. And how clean can they really get those tubs between each woman?!"

Well. I do get this point of view, and the idea of birth matter and amniotic fluid and, um, OTHER STUFF in the tub with me does freak me out a little, I have to admit. I'm still not sure I want to actually deliver the baby and the placenta in the water, even if everything works out that the option is available to me. So yes: undeniably, it's a messy concept. But the worry about how clean they get the tubs between births? Well I don't know, lady, it's a HOSPITAL, so I'd like to think they know how to sanitize things! They do have access to cleaning supplies and bleach and vinegar and disinfectants, yes? And it's not like women with STD outbreaks or HIV are allowed to use the tub anyway; that's one of their main rules about water birth. So I guess worrying about, like, catching something from another woman hadn't really occured to me. So far I'd just thought about the actual ickiness of being in water that, as she said, "isn't exactly sparkling clean." Is the germ thing something that would worry any of you guys?

Things To Know Should You Go On Bedrest

-Eating while lying down is not too fun. I think I'll never want breakfast in bed ever again, quite frankly, because it will remind me of this SPECIAL SPECIAL time in my life. You spill everything, you're constantly lying in a pile of crumbs, and, if you're an obsessive cleaner, you'll think at least once a day about how much junk must be getting wedged under the sofa cushions and you will be positively twitching to get your hands on a dust buster as soon as you're allowed to do chores again.

-You are going to have permanent bedhead, and you just have to live with it.

-No matter how nice your legs may or may not be, I bet you'll begin to loathe the sight of them after staring down at them for four to six weeks. Ditto your feet, especially if they were sorely in need of a pedicure to begin with.

-If your baby is laying low in your pelvis, lying on your side (which is the ideal position when you're pregnant, in terms of blood flow) is going to grind your baby's shoulders against your hipbones. Laying on your back will make you worry about blood clots. Unless you're the kind of pregnant woman who doesn't worry about stuff. Which is to say, a total freak of nature, obviously.

-Your appetite will probably drop off significantly from what you've been used to the last few months. But you'll be bored, and chewing is at least something to DO, so you have to resist the urge to wear a feedbag of M n Ms and Cheetos.

-You'll probably become a lot more aware of your baby's movements when you're just laying around all day. This is partly nice and partly freaky, because around seven and eight months is when you start identifying specific limbs poking out of your skin and having to dislodge feet from your ribcage.

Gestating: Still Not Super Exciting

Nothing new here to report, really, just bored. I gotta tell you, I have read kind of an astonishing amount of fiction in the last nearly three weeks, and I would like to say that I am highly disappointed that I did NOT, as it turns out, take this opportunity to read all those great classics I always meant to get around to. It's always dismaying to be put in a character revealing type of situation and find out just what kind of person you really are. It turns out I'm the kind of person who has still never read Hamlet or A Tale of Two Cities or Moby Dick even when given literally sixteen hours a day of free time, but who HAS managed to read every single Anita Shreve book now, as well as the complete works of Elizabeth Berg. Great accomplishment there. I think I'd like that on my gravestone.

Well. What else. Stats from doctor's appointment Thursday are as follows: 2 cm. dilated, head in minus one station, cervix appeared longer on ultrasound than it had been two weeks ago, but upon examination the doctor pronounced it very thin and stretchy and said she wasn't really "buying" that it had gotten thicker. Baby looks good, though there was a week or so disparity in his abdominal measurements when compared to the head size and femur size. Which is supposedly something to keep an eye on? So they want me to have it rechecked in two weeks instead of four. But even the tech said his knees were so bunched on his chest that it was hard to get an accurate measurement, so I kind of think everything's probably fine and it was just a technical error of some kind.

Based on said (possibly incorrect) measurements, though, he weighs about four pounds, six ounces right now, which is right in the fiftieth percentile, so I'm happy about that. Though, I know weight estimates can often be wildly inaccurate by the third trimester, up to a pound off in either direction I think is what I was told.

Speaking of pounds, I ended up getting weighed twice, decided to slip off my sandals the second time, and discovered that my shoes alone weigh two pounds. Thrilling! Always take off your shoes when being weighed! Set down your purse! Remove all jewelry! These little things add up.

Oh, I also got my first progesterone shot yesterday, which hurt much less than I expected based on what I'd heard about it and on the formidable size of the needle itself. Luckily my um, FLANKS, let's call them, have plenty of padding, so I could probably be injected with something roughly the size of a knitting needle and barely feel it. The actual medicine did sting once it started entering my veins, though, but just briefly, and the bruising was very very minimal. So, no biggie. One less thing to dread. IV's are still far and away a worse experience, even if they don't involve mooning a nurse.

Today was especially productive. I wrote two thank you notes, mended a pair of Jim's pajama pants, repaired a rip in a throw pillow AND the torn leg of Eli's plush Spiderman, sorted and put in albums approximately a hundred photos, and finished up the first season of Mad Men.

Oh, and spent at least twenty minutes crying about how crappy this bedrest situation is for every single person involved, and how I feel like my lousy cervix has singlehandedly put strain upon my relationships with every single person I care about, and how I cannot believe that I'm not even halfway done yet with this whole bedridden gig.

I'm really bearing up like a saint, I know. It just sucks hardcore, frankly, some days. Other days, like yesterday, are fine. Eli napped for three hours (cue the angels singing) and Addy went down the street to play with the neighbor girls all afternoon, while I watched Mad Men in peace and my sister kindly cleaned our whole house in preparation for our meeting with the doula that night. Someone from church brought over dinner, and well, the whole day seemed kind of perfect, for awhile. Except that Eli's nap was prefaced by yet another screaming fit; also, getting the kids to actually eat their dinner, then cleaning up from dinner, took all of Jim's time from the minute he walked in the door to the time the doula arrived. Then he got to discuss episiotomies and perineal massage for two hours! Lots of down time for him!

Anyways, this is just a grumpy rant. Overall, I am kind of getting used to bedrest again, rather than spending the entire day twitching in misery from the longing to get up and DO stuff. Certainly I'm getting a lot of books read (Kelsey sweetly sent me a bunch of Jennifer Weiner books which were really fun and quite well written. I thought I had read her before, but it must've been some other chic lit author, 'cause I liked these books a LOT more than the ones I was thinking of.) I am really, really enjoying Mad Men, and when that's done I plan to move on to How I Met Your Mother. I've been meaning to watch both of those shows for a long time, and there is no better way to watch a series, in my opinion, than in big obsessive gulps, as opposed to a little teasing sip each week.

Also, I don't miss doing dishes or laundry one little bit. Or even cooking, frankly. And helping wipe Eli's rear? Not pining for that just yet, either.

So those things are the upside of bedrest. But oh, it is killing me that I'm going to be laying on a stupid couch during Eli's third birthday party this weekend. That I haven't gotten to help Addy get dressed for her first soccer games this week, much less attend. That all day long I am forced to choose between asking my sister or husband for every. single. thing. I want/need (water, remote control, turn the fan on, new book, stamps for Eli's party invites) or cheat on my doctor's orders to get up and get it myself. That all I can do is listen while Addy and Eli squabble or act up or throw fits about eating. If I try to intervene from the couch, it just makes it worse. If I say nothing and leave the situation to whoever is supervising, I feel negligent and lazy, staring at the TV and thinking LA LA LA while someone else handles my kids.

My kids, who half the time are tearfully hugging all over me and saying they miss me (which literally, physically hurts me, like a Braxton Hicks in my freaking HEART) or are actively ignoring me as I try to reign them in from my couch, gleeful in the knowledge that there's nothing I can do to enforce myself. I feel for them a great, bewildering tangle of pity and irritation. Kind of like they feel towards me, I suppose. Arrgh.

Middle Child

So bedrest. Not an experience that grows sweeter for being repeated, that's for sure. With Addy, it was practically a vacation, boredom and back pain aside. And the fact that I was DYING from all the supressed nesting urges to scrub baseboards and refold baby clothes. With Eli, it was decidedly worse, requiring someone else to constantly be here to care for Addy. Addy, my nearly two year old who was quite thrown by her mother being suddenly incapacitated and didn't understand at all that a new baby was on the way. There was also that TEENSY issue of my getting an inner ear infection which manifested itself in the form of severe vertigo to the point of vomiting every time I had to move. There was a lot of crying and feeling of despair going on in those five weeks.

And this time its... Well, I'm not vomiting, so there's that. And at least both the kids understand about the upcoming baby, so they kinda-sorta understand why I have to suddenly live on the couch. We've attempted explanation a couple of times- the understanding Addy seems to have is that I'm laying down so that the baby doesn't literally fall out of me. Which I suppose in a general sense is exactly right. But saying that they understand in a mental way what's going on and saying that they ACCEPT what's going on are two very different statements, aren't they?

Addy vaccilates between being extremely solicitious and helpful, running around cleaning to the point of obsessive-compulsiveness (more on that later) and being kind of hostile towards me, though never outright. It's just a passive-aggressive vibe, things like ignoring me even when I've called her name five times and she's two feet away, or refusing to look at me when I'm trying to talk to her in a Serious Tone about behavior issues. Mostly I think she's ok, though, or will be ok as soon as I'm up and around again. I really think half of it is just that she is so tired of waiting for the baby to come, and subconsciously suspects that I'm keeping him hostage in my belly or something. She nods along when we explain that he isn't big enough to come out just yet, but it doesn't stop her from complaining daily, "It takes such a long TIME for babies!" and then glaring at me accusingly.

It's Eli I'm a little worried about. He was doing so well about tantrumming for awhile there. We've seen a drastic improvement in his verbal skills from age two to now, and subsequently a drastic reduction in the frequency and severity of his little screaming fits. But literally since the day things kind of fell apart in the doctor's office, he has been screaming and throwing himself on the floor about every little thing that disappoints or frustrates him. He also keeps wanting to sleep in the crib, to take naps (something he'd given up months ago,) to pretend he's a baby, and other very obvious signals of insecurity about losing his status as the family baby. He's always crawling up onto me to suck his thumb and cuddle, and I try my best to accomodate him while protecting my belly from his jabbing knees and elbows. I'll stroke his hair and whisper, "Are you my Eli boy?" Usually he would nod happily and say yes, but the past week he always shakes his head solemnly and corrects, "No, I your BABY."

I'm trying really hard to maintain perspective and to believe that all of us will come out of the next few weeks ultimately unscathed. To know that children are amazingly resilient and to remind myself that at least I'm still here with them, even if I can't take care of them right now. But it just keeps killing me, every time he says it. I'm getting all teary now, writing about it, even though he is currently fine and running around with his dad and sister. I feel like I am grieving for him, because the fact that he understands about a new baby was initially great and exciting and sweet. And now it's just kind of excruciating to watch. I feel like we're about to break his heart, just a little, and there's nothing I can do about it.

PSA: Stations of the Cervix... The More You Know

I had a great doctor's visit today- well, as great as any invasive personal exam can be, anyways. (My favorite part is how they always have to say, "LITTLE pressure, now," right before they touch you, in the same way that phlebotomists have to say every single time, "LITTLE pinch, here," right before they shove an iv needle into the bone of your hand.) I'm still just one centimeter, and the baby's head has gone way back up, to minus three station. Yeah, apparently "minus" means HIGHER in the pelvis than zero station, not lower, which is what I had thought. So at the doctor's office last Tuesday, when the baby's head was at zero and she said he was engaged, I knew that was bad, and then I got really worried the next day at the hospital when she said it had moved to minus one station. I thought he had gotten lower, but yeah... guess I still don't know everything about birthin' babies even after almost three of them. Whoops.

Now I know, though! Minus three is good! Still low for only thirty one weeks of pregnancy, but much better than zero station, so it seems the bedrest is actually accomplishing something, and man does that make me feel good. When you're literally doing nothing productive and people keep saying, "Your job is to cook that baby!" it makes you feel pretty productive after all when the lying around has in fact caused some progress in the situation. I'm feeling vastly better about my odds of having a term or very nearly term baby after all. In the hospital I was feeling very sad and scared about delivering seriously early and having a baby in the NICU and everything that would entail for our whole family. I know it still would've probably been fine in the end, but obviously it's not what you HOPE for, and I'm so happy that things are looking more encouraging in terms of my making it to at least thirty six weeks. In classic pregnant mood swing fashion, I've gone from always-on-the-verge-of-tears to super-perky! just from the relief of that doctor's visit.

So! Now that my brain has silenced it's constant monologue of, "OMG you're going to have a preemie and he's going to have problems and be sick and it's going to be YOUR FAULT because of your pitiful lazy cervix and because of the fact that you chose to have two d and c's and weaken it even further and...." ETC, well, now I'm free to think of ways to entertain myself for the next five weeks! In the last six days I've already read East of Eden (finally; I've tried and stopped like four different times now,) and The Help, so now I need fresh fodder. I'm not really a big TV person, unfortunately, but I do enjoy watching series, so I'd love for you all to tell me what YOU would be reading and watching if you had a whole month to do nothing else!

Sidelined

Well, here I am. On the couch. For the next six weeks...

Yes, bedrest time has come again, kicked off by an overnight stay at the hospital. I went in for my thirty week appointment on Tuesday and, after ultrasound and exam revealed an extremely short, thinned, one cm. dilated cervix and a baby who has already wiggled his head into a minus one station (yes, that means he's like in the birth canal already) I was sent to the labor and delivery floor for fluids and observation. I had almost no contractions at all once I was lying down, so that plus a negative fetal fibronectin test convinced them that home bedrest should be sufficient to keep him in there at least a little longer. I'm also on Procardia now, which gives me bad headaches but otherwise has no side effects. Much better than brethine, which they were going to start until I BEGGED my doctor to let me see how I did with just Procardia first.

BTW, sorry if there are any typos or spelling issues in this post- I'm using the computer that we have hooked up to our TV in the den, but it's kind of far away from the couch, so I can BARELY see what I'm typing.

I'm feeling pretty down about all of it, to be honest, though now that I'm not up and around anymore I'm definitely realizing just how uncomfortable and tight my belly really was most of the time these last few weeks. So physically I suppose I feel some relief, despite the headaches and the hip and back pain from lying around 24/7. I'm going to get bedsore pretty soon, I think!

I just feel guilty that maybe if I had just taken it a little MORE easy he wouldn't be trying to escape my uterus already! And then partly I just feel jealous of people who can maintain a normal routine and their normal activities right up until delivery. Women whose cervixes actually do their jobs. 'Cause I know bedrest might sound sort of nice and relaxing and like every eight months' pregnant woman's dream, but let me tell you, the novelty wears off very quickly. Especially with two kids running around and climbing all over you and crying because you can't take them to the playground.

But, overall I'm very grateful. This is one of those (many many) times when it is infinitely helpful to live so near both of our families. From the morning I got sent from my doctor's office to the hospital, I've never had to worry about who was going to take care of the kids. We've not had to scramble to find a babysitter or a daycare that could take them, or a home health aid to stop in and bring me my meals and medicines. So, you know, this situation could certainly be a lot worse, and I want to thank everybody- especially Laura- for all the food and books and flowers and visits and babysitting! I hope you guys all know how much we appreciate you.

As for Baby Boy, well, I have another appointment on Monday, so we're just going to go from there. If I'm any further dilated or his head has somehow dropped even LOWER (seriously, how has he not just fallen out at this point?!) then I'll start the steroid shots for his lungs and we'll begin to brace ourselves for a delivery at least a few weeks earlier than planned. Though, you know, nothing's for sure! Let's remember those weeks of contractions and dilation with Eli that didn't really do anything until thirty nine weeks along!

Jameson

Oh yeah! The name. I was surprised none of my lurking family members guessed it, since I thought we had discussed it a lot when contemplating a name for Eli. I guess we actually haven't brought it up at all this time to other people, but between us we were frequently using it as the middle name when we were trying things out on each other. (Um, trying NAMES out on each other. Gah.) As in, "How about Isaac Jameson?"

My reasons for not wanting to use it as a first name were two fold: first, James is Jim's given name, though he almost never goes by it. When we discussed it last time around, it was as a namesake thing without actually making the kid James Junior. A nod to the name, if you will. James Son. Using it on a second son just seems kind of... weird, though. Like maybe the first kid wasn't quite up to snuff so you hung on to it and hoped you'd have another boy? I don't know. But then I got to thinking about Eli's whole naming story and how he came to be called Elias and realized that he probably would totally understand why we passed on it with him once we told him the tale of throwing our name list completely out the window on the whim of his Percocet-addled mother an hour after his birth. (BTW, that link is the whole birth story, so if you just want the name part skip waaaay to the bottom.) But what do you guys think?

My other, not quite as important reason, was that in general I'm kind of opposed to last-names-as-first-names. It's just super trendy lately, and for the same reason we're avoiding the Aiden/Hayden/Jaden/Braden/Kaden sound, we had agreed to try to avoid surnames. HOWEVER, this particular surname wouldn't just be chosen randomly because we think it sounds cool, it would be because it actually means something. Also, I really like all the nicknames for it, which matters a lot to me.

But back to the naming a second son in honor of his father thing: is it weird, or am I being weird and over thinking it?

EDIT: It would be pronounced Jame-is-son, not, like, "James' Son," just to clarify.

You Win Some, You Lose Some

Things I am good at: attempting to do fun stuff with the kids.
Things I am bad at: fully thinking through all that will be involved when doing said fun stuff with kids.

Example One: Addy loves painting, so every month or so I've been getting fabric painting crafts for her, which she LOVES. So far we've done pillowcases, aprons, t-shirts, and a bib and a couple of newborn hats for the baby. So, you know, it's been several times here, that I've gone through the process of setting up for this craft. And yet I haven't once remembered that I need to procure CARDBOARD to keep the paint off the table, and that fabric paint actually STAINS so I need to have her wear grubby clothes or no shirt at all. Also: I need to buy something fabric paint appropriate to put the paint on, since it has stained and ruined two of our plastic kid plates already. Other people might have learned the lesson that fabric paint works differently than acrylic and get the proper supplies. Other people will just repeatedly wander around their house trying to find any scrap of cardboard they can to cobble together a disposable paint palette.

Example Two: I always forget to pack food for us when we go to playgrounds! This is more just a general failure, but today's example is particularly spectacular. This morning we went to a spray park with the kids' cousins. We didn't get there until almost eleven, so it seems it would've been obvious to anyone else who has kid experience that a lunch or at least a snack would be a required thing to pack, right up there with water, sunscreen and towels. But I didn't even think of it. Luckily Jim had gone home for lunch, and stopped by the park to bring us deli meat, cheese and crackers so I wouldn't pass out dead from hunger. The kids of course were so busy playing they hadn't even mentioned food, but I was beginning to shake and sweat from low blood sugar. Apparently I need to make a sign on the door that I will have to look at every time I walk out of it: DEAR DIMWIT, PREGNANT LADIES AND LITTLE KIDS NEED TO EAT FREQUENTLY. DO YOU HAVE A SNACK WITH YOU?

Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens

I've been finding myself noticing a lot of little happy things lately, but then falling into long periods of GRUMP in between, mainly because of the heat and the fact that my belly is now so big and hard that things like trimming my toenails or shaving my legs have become arduous tasks requiring painful contortion and muscle cramps. But overall, I know (in mah head!) that things are good right now, so I thought I'd just document that here. So I can refer to it the next time I get huffy and exasperated because my belly button has popped out and every time the baby's limbs move over my navel area it hurts in the weirdest, most irritating way but that's not exactly something that elicits the same sympathy that, say, back pain or contractions would. Um, anyways! On to the happy things list!

-My mom found a set of five really nice deck chairs, all fully reclining, plus two footrests and a glass-topped table, for twenty five dollars at a yard sale! That's twenty five dollars for the whole set, you guys! And she GAVE IT TO US! So now our deck has something on it besides an eye-gouging assortment of plastic toys! And I have somewhere to lay in the sun with my feet up!

-My mom also bought me, as an early baby gift, the Arm's Reach mini cosleeper that I have been eyeballing ever since Eli was born. (Sorry no link- for some reason I couldn't get their website to come up.) I am so, so pleased about this thing, you guys. It is such a nice neutral color and will look so... unobtrusive, I guess is the word, in whatever room it happens to be used in. Not to mention it's so COMPACT and PRACTICAL and also so unfussy. What is it with most bassinets being so dang frilly? I mean, I like me some fanciness and am hardly a modern decor type person, but even I have a problem with most of the bassinets I see.

-My heartburn, which was bothering me on a daily basis for months, has only been popping up occasionally the last few weeks. Unfortunately this is probably because the baby seems to have "dropped" already, which is obviously not on the happy list, but it's still nice not to be in pain after every meal.

-My hips have also been remarkably painless and cooperative lately. I DID throw my back out today lifting Eli into a shopping cart, but it still hurts way less than the hip/sciatic thing does.

-Our enormous backyard has a sizable portion that was fenced off in a big square, but the fence was kind of rickety and unstained and we have never really done anything with the inside of it other than to store firewood, except one year when we halfheartedly tended a veggie garden in part of it. This summer it's been TOTALLY ignored and was basically an overgrown weed garden until last week, when Jim ripped all the weeds out by hand and then began taking the fence itself down. All that's left now is the posts, which will certainly be a pain to dig out but oh my gosh, I am so excited for how much it's opening up the yard! There's still some clearing out of brush-type stuff to be done, and then some grass seed planting of course, so it won't really look nice until next year. But I'm just excited to have something being done with it, since we obviously didn't need to have that area fenced off. We kept thinking we were going to do all this elaborate stuff (gardening, fountains, kids' play area, etc.) but the facts are: 1. The kids already have tons of play area with the deck and the yard, and 2. We are not elaborate landscape/gardening type of people. All we really want is a big yard to play ball in. So more grassy area and less maintenance is better for us.

-I recently found a really cool piece of art for our living room. I'd been wanting something a little more colorful and lot less ornate on this particular wall for awhile, but I couldn't find anything at all I liked that wouldn't require completely redecorating the rest of the room. Which I DID NOT want to do. So I bought it as an early birthday present... for myself, and changed a couple of other little things. Voila! More color, less formality. But not drastically different or requiring new furniture or paint color or anything crazy. Success!

-I think we may have hit upon a name for the baby that we both feel solid about. At least I do, more than I did about any of the other ideas. It's actually a name we talked about a lot for Eli, and it's always been a probable candidate as a middle name for this current boy. Can anyone guess what it is, and why I originally felt iffy about using it as a first name for this baby?