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?

Art and Ultrasounds

So, two things: first, a parenting question. How does one delicately go about disposing of the ten to twenty pictures, many of them consisting largely of a few dots on an otherwise blank sheet of scratch paper, produced by their offspring each week? Certainly I save the good ones, but I literally cannot save every single picture from every single Princess coloring book, nor can I frame and cherish every single blurry watercolor, no matter how much effort and pride is involved in its production. The few times I've been found out throwing things away there was much crying and wounded feelings about it, so I've resorted to saving everything in a big pile and then quietly doing away with stuff in the dark of the night when everyone's tucked into bed. This feels sort of sneaky and wrong and not-nice-mother-ish, but what am I supposed to do? Is it ok to continue to let the kids THINK that everything is being saved when in fact much of it is meeting The Big Trash Compactor In The Sky?

The other thing is a doctor's appointment update. The good: baby is measuring about a week ahead for his gestational age, and weighs almost three pounds. That makes me feel good, 'cause my others were always about a week behind where they should have been, growth wise. (Also makes me feel better about how HUGE I am already!) The other good is that I finally got to see the OB that I slightly prefer, and she agreed to be on call for my delivery! I don't dislike the other doc, but this other one is known for being pretty laid back and hands off when it comes to the birthing part, and the nurses at the hospital (as well as my doula!) all said she was the best for water birth, so obviously I was hoping to have her. The other doctor's nice enough and all, but much more traditional in her style of "actively managing" delivery. At least that's what I've gathered.

The bad is that my cervix is shorter yet. It's now 2.9 cm, when a normal, "safe" length is between 4 and 6. So I'm not on bedrest YET, but I'm to continue with my modified bed rest rules, the ones I've kinda given to myself (basically lying down whenever I feel more than one contraction or feel the baby's head starting to engage, drinking water, taking deep breaths, etc) and then we're reevaluating in two weeks based on where my cervix length/dilation is then. If I get sidelined then, that will be two weeks earlier than with the other two... Six weeks of bedrest somehow sounds much more depressing than four!

So keep your fingers crossed that I can be allowed to stay up for at least another month and that the baby doesn't come until he's fully cooked!

Well Isn't That Special

WHOOPS! Seems as though I haven't even turned my computer on in a week! How did that happen? Well, a combination of things: never ending illnesses, heat so stifling that just being near a hot computer was enough to start me sweating, a lot of Braxton-hicks-ing because of all the heat, and subsequently a lot of lying on the couch and taking it easy, and therefore nothing really HAPPENING that was worth blogging, unless my kids setting some kind of world record for marathon Nick Jr. watching is worth noting. MOTHER OF THE YEAR, these last few days, let me tell you. But if all that lounging and laziness has kept me from preterm labor (and it seems it has, so far) well, I call it successful parenting!

But now there is something worth noting, because WHAT THE WHAT?! According to that little ticker thingie up there, it seems that in just under two hours I will be twenty eight weeks pregnant. Entering the third trimester. You guys, there is no trimester after that. Then there is a baby, an actual human baby that lives in our house and sleeps beside my bed and nurses on me and smells like heaven (and also sometimes like puke.)

And it's so strange, because it seems like just a month or two ago it was my twenty fifth birthday, and I was miserably sick with miscarriage-inducing drugs prescribed to help my body let go of an already gone baby- a third already gone baby- and my husband and family had thrown me a surprise party to cheer me up. Which it did, it did, but it still felt like I was just never going to make it to being healthily pregnant ever again. And that was the only birthday present I really wanted, just a promise that I WOULD have a real live baby again someday.

Now I think I will. Even if this baby came tomorrow (and he'd better not) chances are he'd make it, and would one day be in a bassinet by my bed, nursing and all. Or bottle feeding, but who CARES because he would be there, and he would be ours. Speaking of OURS, can I just say that is so fun being pregnant this time with two little kids in the house? And then clarify that I'm actually not being sarcastic?

For one thing, time goes WAAAY faster when you have other people to think about besides your own bloated self. For another, it really is so fun to see things through kids' eyes. Hearing them talk about the baby, and to the baby, sharing their name ideas, singing him songs, picking out little presents, telling me all the ways they're going to "help" take care of him... It gives me a feeling I don't even have a name for, because I've never felt it before. Even when I was pregnant with Eli, Addy was just young enough that she really didn't understand anything until we brought him home. With this baby, they both totally get it, and it's just... I would explain it like this, I guess: I'm not just having Jim's and my baby, this time. I'm having a sibling, a little brother. I'm making our family more complete.

From The Quarantined

Welp, now Jim and I are sick too. No fevers, but we have coughs, congestion, body aches, the whole bag, as do the kids. Literally the day their temperatures started running normal again the sneezing and hysterics of "noses not working" began, so now they've pretty much been sick a solid week. Neither of them are eating well, and I'm so hot I never feel like eating, either, until I'm so hungry my blood sugar is plummeting. So not a lot of cooking is going on around here, is what I'm saying. That's kinda nice, I guess. Not nice: I'm not really a big cereal eater, but it turns out when you don't cook there's not much else to eat.

The kids are getting downright irate about still not feeling well. Addy, especially, keeps yelling at me that she doesn't NEED any medicine because she absolutely IS NOT sick anymore- this after having spent all night keeping me awake with her comings and goings to our bed, alternately moaning and SHOUTING about her stuffy nose and thrashing around in general misery. Eli is responding to his discomfort by being incredibly clinging, and, naturally, completely regressing in toilet training. We've missed several playdates and even a possible trip to the cottage, too, so there's definitely a feeling of sulk going around, adults included. Also: BOREDOM OMG.

I'd love to at least be doing nesting projects for baby, but since it's so hot and I'm trying hard to continue with my taking it easy mantra, not much heavy stuff is going on yet. Jim moved a dresser for me, and my mom kindly took literally twelve boxes of outgrown girl clothes to be stored in her basement, thus allowing me a little more freedom to rearrange toys and stuff (since the baby's nursery has been used the last year or so as a playroom/storage closet.) So it's mostly just a lot of pesky organizing of toys and clothes, really, but that's never my favorite part. I'm more of a scrubber and window washer and picture hanger type.

For me, though, the most worrisome thing still undone is the issue of the baby's NAME. The rest of the stuff, even if I find it mentally irritating, could all technically be done after the baby arrived and it wouldn't really hurt anything. Not like he'll be using the nursery for several months anyways. But the name! He has to have a name before we leave the hospital! And our list so far consists of pathetically few names, none of which I'm really in love with:

Wesley
Josiah
Ronin

I like them all, but I have my issues with them. Wesley is just not wowing me, as much as I like it and like the nickname Wes. Josiah I love, but I don't like the nicknames Jo or Josey for a boy- there's a girl at church named Josey already who's friends with Addy and it just seems like it'd be a little confusing. And Ronin is cool and unusual and all, but there are NO nicknames, likable or otherwise, and one of my caveats of naming has always been that there be a nickname option. So yeah... I know you can't help me clean out my closets to make room to store the dress up clothes bin, but you can tell me your favorite boy names, right?

Fever Pitch

So I think I already mentioned how much my kids currently love anything Spider Man related. I know, I know- they're kinda young and those movies are kind of scary and adult and HEY, IT WASN'T MY IDEA. They seem completely undisturbed by any scariness, however, and are instead fascinated with the idea of "good guys" and "bad guys." I still feel hesitant even about introducing that concept, vague as I sometimes find the lines between good and bad to be. It's like this quote from "The Guleg Archipelago" by Alexander Solzhenitsyn (which I copied down with great earnestness at age seventeen, but still find to be just as piercing as I did then): "If there were only evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds and it were only necessary to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?"

BUT I digress... We were watching Spider Man 2 tonight over pizza, in a great festival of relief at having brought Addy's temperature down from its terrifying peak of 105.2. Seriously, I had called the hospital's hotline only to hear sobering words like "seizure," and I was THISCLOSE to snatching her to my chest and running her to the ER on my own two feet if she didn't cool off within five minutes. But she did, thank God, and so the only place to which I hurried off was CVS, to get Motrin and Tylenol and Pedialyte and a giant bag of candy (in lieu of a giant bottle of WINE obviously.)

When I got home there was pizza and suddenly normal looking, alert-eyed children asking for Spider Man show!!! and adults sagging with exhaustion and relief, so, obviously we just ate the pizza and watched the Spider Man. And I got to thinking how much I love the music in those movies- it's seriously about half the appeal of them, for me. I wandered out to the computer to look up some of the music videos on YouTube (I actually already own the soundtrack) and the kids of course followed, each of them wanting to see the video that corresponded to their favorite song from the soundtrack. So here they are, Addy's, Eli's, and my favorite songs: can you guess whose is whose?

Balanced

The good: It finally rained. Like, poured down rain, all night on and off. The air no longer feels like a Death Cloud.

The bad: The rain apparently was violent enough to drill a hole in our roof, as I discovered a leak coming down the wall of our linen closet (ALL OVER THE LINENS) at about eleven last night.

The good: I happened to be rooting around in there to find a clean pillow for Eli because he had completely soaked his through with sweat when his fever broke after going to bed. He woke up crying incoherently that he was all wet, and I at first thought he meant his pull-up, until I realized he was literally laying in a puddle of sweat. Yikes. But anyways, I had just washed all of our sheets a few days ago, so it was unlikely I would even have opened that closet door for another week if I hadn't needed to get clean bedding for him in the middle of the night like that.

The bad: The fevers are still with us, though at least they're being controlled with Tylenol. They just spike back up every four hours, the highest recorded temp being 103. I always get a little freaked out by fevers. Kids act so WEIRD sometimes when they're feverish! It feels wrong not to be rushing them to the hospital to make sure they don't slip into a delirious coma.

The good: I'm still not sick, despite having sweaty sick kids crawling all over me and sleeping in my bed.

The bad: Adelay threw up grape juice all over the couch and the throw pillow this morning.

The good: At least it wasn't the white couch.