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.