Almost Birth Time

It's almost birth time and I am counting down, willing the time to come, more so than my first two pregnancies combined.  I can't be sure, but I don't recall complaining too much the first two times around and I feel like I have MORE than made it up for that this time around. Looking back, I probably should have been more appreciative because right now...

- I sleep with no less than four pillows.  One under my head, one between my knees, one between my arms, and one behind my back.

- I turn over and change positions no less than 47 times per night.

- Ryan interrupted an unusual good stretch of sleep the other night by snoring and I have never been closer to smothering him with a pillow.

- Zantac is my lifeblood.

- Everything hurts.

- My feet are swollen and angry.

- I hear anywhere from 5-7 comments a day on my body - both positive (nice? thoughtful?) and not positive (are they trying to be nice and falling short? do they realize nothing they are saying is helpful?).  Ryan says I'm being too sensitive and I want to punch him in the throat.

- I'm suddenly much more prone to violent tendencies (see above)

- Cam is asking a lot of questions - like are the doctors going to "put me back together" with duct tape and glue?  I basically just answer "yes" to all of his little five-year old theories because I am too chicken shit to have a real, honest conversation about this whole process.

- Someone asked me the other day how I was feeling and I somehow managed to say with a totally straight face, "like a small human could fall out of my uterus at any moment... how are you?"

I truly am so grateful to be pregnant.  But I am beyond ready for this child to vacate the premises of my body.

Take Luck,

LP

Zoey's Birth Story

Last I left you, because I was officially post-dates, had only reasonable fluid levels, and my OB was concerned with my platelet count, we arrived at the hospital at midnight Monday night/Tuesday morning for an induction.  Already this experience was different than Camden's birth story, but I had no idea just how different it would ultimately be.

When I announced Zoey's arrival on Instagram and Facebook, I used the words "fast and furious" to describe it.  This is why.

We got checked in and settled, I was dilated 2-2.5cm and by 1am the nurse has started the pitocin drip.  I tried to rest as much as possible and Ryan made himself comfortable on the couch.  I couldn't get comfortable on the damn hospital bed and kept switching positions, causing the baby to move and the sensors/monitors strapped to my belly to not pick her up.  Contractions started around 3:30am.  Needless to say the nurse was coming in constantly to check my drip and vitals and reposition the monitors, so rest I did not.

This is where I get a little foggy on the timeline of things.  The really sad part is that my best reference are text messages I was sending to Tiff, Rachel, Cara, my mom, and Ryan's mom - updating them on progress.  Thankfully, the timespan is pretty short.

5:15am was when contractions started getting strong and requiring me to really focus on breathing through them, but I was still laying in bed.  Around 6:00am I got out of bed and started laboring by standing and swaying and bending over the bed.  It was around this time that I told the nurse I was ready for an epidural - knowing that they would have to check my platelet count before administering it.  (For the record, my OB was right to be concerned about my platelet count.  It had dropped over 20,000 in the last four weeks and 8,000 since checking into the hospital.)

They drew my blood and contractions were really picking up.  My mom called Ryan just before 7am saying that she was just getting Camden to daycare and would be to the hospital shortly after.  Rachel and I had been texting and she was going to be on the 6am ferry, arriving to the hospital around the same time as Mom.

At 7am, right after Ryan ended the phone call with my mom, shit hit the fan.  I was laboring (swearing, crying -- the goods), standing/leaning over the bed, and I felt fluid running down my legs.  Thankfully, my OB was just starting her rounds and was able to check my progress.  I was 5.5cm and she broke my water. A little bit of meconium was in the water, so they made sure there would be respiratory doctors and nurses on-hand when the baby was born in case she swallowed any.

Right after she broke my water things took another (giant) step up in intensity.  I told Ryan to call my mom back and to tell her that she needed to hurry.  I have no idea how, but I sent Tiffanie a text at 7:13am that said, "5.5cm, water broke. Miserable. Waiting for epidural."

Mom and Rachel still weren't at the hospital at this point but they probably could have heard me yelling and screaming from however far away they were.  I'm not even kidding.  I was yelling and screaming in pain because I didn't know what else to do.  I kept telling Ryan and the nurses that I felt like I had to poop during contractions.  (This "telling" was really done in the form of yelling and screaming).   Mom and Rachel walked into the room at some point and I have no doubt were shocked to see me bent over the bed, screaming in pain.  The nurses kept telling me over and over that I could not push yet and that I needed to lay down.  I think this was the worst part of the whole experience - feeling the need to push but having to use all my energy not to push and to keep the baby inside.

I got into bed and was somehow able to communicate (scream) "She is coming out!"  The nurse tried checking my cervix to feel baby's position and it took everything I had to not kick her in the face.  All I was able to muster was tears and "Please, stop!" (At least I managed to say, "Please"?!).  The nurse announced that the baby was right there and I was just going to have to push her out.  Without an epidural.

I think it was about this time that something red and on the floor caught my eye.  It was my red St. Louis Cardinals sweatshirt wearing husband.  The intensity of the moment and my pain/screaming/yelling was just a little too much for him and he passed out. (He really does love me!)  A few nurses tended to him and assured me that he was fine and that "it happens all the time," but I was worried and kept thinking to myself, "what the hell is happening?!"  It didn't help hearing that it was normal because I could see him through the bed rails - twitching and making all sorts of weird noises.

So, I'm supposed to push this baby out, without an epidural, and without my husband?!  Fantastic.

In the next few minutes while the doctors and nurses were all getting into their baby catching positions and telling me not to push, Ryan was able to come around and get his feet back under him.  I am so incredibly thankful that Mom and Rachel got there when they did because I don't have the slightest clue what I would have done without them and Ryan on the floor.

It was time to push and Rachel has told me that my face totally changed from "screaming and yelling in agony" to "game time."  I grabbed the top bar of the bed to brace myself and pushed once to get her head out.  Pushing against the contraction actually gave me a sense of relief, believe it or not.  The second most horrible part of this whole labor was waiting in between that push and the next contraction.  The "ring of fire" is real, people.  Thankfully, the next contraction came quickly and I pushed with everything I had left to deliver a 7 lb 6 oz, 20 inch Zoey Grace at 7:36am. 

Holy shit.

I was looking at Ryan, Mom, Rachel, and this baby with nothing but "what the effing hell just happened?!" racing through my mind.  There was certainly some happiness and joy in there too, but I was in major shock over what had transpired in the course of 30 minutes.

The crazy part is that almost (almost!) immediately after she was out, the pain I was in was gone and I stopped screaming like a crazy person. So I (almost!) immediately started apologizing to everyone that I made eye contact with for all the screaming and the crazy that had just transpired. Everyone assured me that I was fine and normal and not crazy, but holy hell I was embarrassed - even though I was acting and reacting in the only way I felt I possibly could. 

So, let's recap.

12am: Check into hospital

1am: 2-2.5cm, start pitocin

3:30am: Contractions start

5:15am: Contractions getting strong

6am: Ask for epidural and continue to labor

7am: 5.5cm, water broken

7:36am: Zoey is born

Is that mind blowing?  Or is it just me?  I'm a big believer in pregnant women educating themselves on birth and all that can happen during labor and delivery.  I think it's great to have a birth plan, but I think it's extremely important to remember that it's just that - a plan.  I didn't write a formal birth plan this time, just because I was planning on having another medicated birth and was completely happy and satisfied with that.  The joke is on me, I suppose.  Thankfully, mother nature took it's course and my body knew what it needed to do to get this lady born.

Sorry Zo Zo - things happened so fast that no fancy Nikon camera was brought out to capture your birth and post-birth.  Just the old, loyal iPhone. I swear, the girl's not even a week old and she's already getting the second child shaft.

Ryan picked Camden up from daycare that afternoon and brought him to the hospital to meet his baby sister.  He took a little peek at her but otherwise wasn't super interested and was much more excited by getting to play with Grammy's iPad.

Fine by me.

So, there you have it.  It was a crazy, amazing experience that like Camden's birth, I will never forget.

Take Luck,

LP

40 Weeks

Broken record alert.  I swear I never thought I would reach 40 weeks in this pregnancy.

I don't even know what a jackfruit is, but I can tell you this jackfruit sized baby is taking up all sorts of room and making this mommy all sorts of uncomfortable.

These last few weeks have truly drug on like I didn't know possible.  As ready and excited as I am to have this baby, I hope I don't look back on this time and feel regret for wishing it away.  

At my 40 week appointment this morning, I was encouraged to hear that I had made a smidgen more progress in dilation and effacement.  Because I'm now passed my due date, my OB checked fluid levels and they were OK, but not fantastic.  She also expressed some concern over my platelet count so we have a midnight appointment to check into our hospital's labor and delivery for an induction.

While a little nervous about waltzing into the hospital to announce, "Hello, I'm here for my midnight induction..." I'm also ecstatic to know that the end is near and soon (or soon-ish) I will be holding a squishy little ladybug in my arms.  And have two kids.

Feeling all the the feelings.

After my appointment I went to Target to get some essentials (mostly milk and snacks for Camden), treated myself to a trip through the Panera drive-thru, came home and wrapped up work (therefore officially starting my maternity leave), and have been busying myself with cleaning the house and making sure everything is as organized as it can possibly be.

I'll be picking my Cammy up from daycare shortly and you can bet your booty I'll be holding and kissing that little man cub as much as I possibly can until his bedtime.  He'll be having a slumber party with Grammy and Papa (my parents) and has no idea that tomorrow he will get to meet his little sister.

Feeling all the feelings for suuuuuuuure.

Wish me luck.

Take Luck,

LP

Maternity & Family Photos

Several weeks ago, my cousin, Cheryl (or Tricia according to Camden) hopped across the pond to take some maternity and family photos for us.  

You can imagine my elation (as I wait for what seems like forever for this baby to decide she's ready to arrive) when I got an email from her today.

So while I impatiently wait for a squishy baby to swoon over, I'll be swooning over these pictures.

Take Luck,

LP

  

39 Weeks

The Bump ain't joking around when they compare a baby at 39 weeks to a watermelon.  I'm quite certain there isn't any more room left in my body for this child to occupy.  I'm also quite certainly shocked that I have reached 39 weeks.

Knowing I was making dilation and effacement progress the past several weeks is a total blessing and a curse.  It was (and is!) exciting to know that my body is preparing for labor and delivery of this baby, but it's also been super irritating for me to remain in this "anytime" window of pregnancy.  I would have bet money at 36 weeks that there was no way I was making it to the 39 week mark.  Shows just how little I know and just how much this little ladybug is already running the show.

At my 39 week appointment today, I didn't show any noteworthy progress on the dilation and effacement front.  My OB was gracious enough to sweep membranes in hopes to get things going.  There is no guarantee that it will work, but you can bet your booty I'm holding on tightly to the hope that it will.

There really isn't much else to report, other than me sounding like a big broken record and saying for the hundredth time that I'm ready to meet this little lady.  Speaking of feeling ready - I'm feeling very anxious about when things are going to start really happening.  I keep telling myself to calm the eff down but my little pep-talks aren't working so well.  I'm mentally checked out of work and ready to move onto the next (challenging) phase of a newborn and learning the ropes of two babies.

Come on, baby sister.  We are so ready to meet you!

Take Luck,

LP

Twins?

Today was an interesting one.

I was walking down the stairs to leave my building, with two men walking in front of me.  I made it to the platform when one of the men turned around, made eye contact with me, looked down at my tummy, and said, "Wow, are you having twins?!"

 I would like to state that I know this guy (let's call him Dan), and am not Dan's biggest fan.  He's an arrogant chump in his mid-50's and I find him incredibly obnoxious on both a personal and professional level.  I know I'm getting bigger (hell, I should be at 38 weeks), and honestly could give two hoots about Dan and what he has to say, but Dan is a good 50 pounds overweight and really has no business criticizing or commenting on anyone else's body.

Given that I cannot seem to leave my desk without someone making a comment about my pregnancy or body, you can imagine how a comment/question like, "Wow, are you having twins?!" might push me over the edge.

I'm proud (really proud) to say that instead of shying away and awkwardly laughing off the comment, our conversation went like this:

Dan: Wow, are you having twins?!

Me: Who the hell asks a pregnant woman that question?

Dan: (blank stare) Uhhhh...

Me: No, seriously.  Not cool.

Dan: Well, I haven't seen you in a while and you've gotten a lot bigger.

Me: Yes, well, that's what happens when you are a week from your due date.

Dan: (total insincere and thinking he's hilarious) It's been 20 years since my wife was pregnant.  I'm sorry I just shouldn't say anything.

Me: Yes, exactly.

Thankfully we were walking out of the building and to our vehicles during this conversation so I didn't have to make eye contact.  Otherwise I would have totally lost my nerve, responded with something only mildly sarcastic, and spent the drive to daycare thinking about what I should have said.  Instead, I got in my car, did a little fist pump and was really proud of myself for telling 'ol Dan exactly what I thought of his comment/question.

My only regret was that I didn't respond to "Wow, are you having twins?!" with "No, are you?" and walked off like a badass.

Source

Take Luck,

LP

38 Weeks

Hello, full term.  Hello, pumpkin sized baby.

It's amazing (and amazingly frustrating) to think how quickly my entire pregnancy flew by.  Until now.  It seems like I hit 37 weeks and everything came to a halt.  I really hate this stage of pregnancy where things can start happening "anytime."  Like every other pregnant woman in the world, the Type A planner in me would pay big money for a crystal ball that could tell me when all this false labor is going to turn into the big show.

For now, I'll just keep (impatiently) waiting.

What else has been going on lately?

As ready as I am to have this baby, I'm also having super mixed feelings and emotions about Cam not being my one and only anymore.  Don't get me wrong, I am super excited to welcome this baby girl and to give him a sibling - but another part of me is sad that this chapter in his little life and our life together is closing.  I tried to put my 38 week pregnancy exhaustion and discomfort aside this past weekend and make a point to do fun things with him.  Not that he will remember, of course.

We went to the Armed Forces Day Parade on Saturday morning, swimming at the YCMA in the afternoon, and for fro-yo afterwards.  We played and played on Sunday and went back for a swim at the YMCA in the afternoon.  I would like to note that getting in and out of the pool was no easy task for this giant-bellied-mommy.  My mom met us to watch him swim and the two of them would clap for me after each entrance to/exit from the water.  And to be completely honest, I feel the applause was well deserved.  

I'm quite confident that my co-workers (I'm looking at you, male engineers) believe that I've reached the point in my pregnancy where I'm going to spontaneously erupt and give birth at any second.  In fact, I was sitting in on a division meeting recently and our division head asked me, "So, Lauren, you're due just about any second right?"  I awkwardly laughed, waved my hand, and with a straight face responded, "No, no.  More like any minute."  Co-workers will ask me when my maternity leave begins and my response has remained the same, "I'll be here until she comes."  Some of these men look at me as though I mean that literally - as in I will be at work until she is literally leaving my body.

Speaking of co-workers, I cannot walk down the hallway without receiving comments on my body and/or pregnancy.  More "Woah," and lots of "I thought for sure you'd have had that baby by now."  My personal favorite was when I was wearing a striped maternity dress last week and someone graciously pointed out that "... stripes don't make you look smaller."

When picking up Camden from daycare last week, one little girl said to me, "I love your skirt."  And then her older sister quickly followed that compliment up with, "I love your big belly."  Needless to say, I was much happier to receive body/pregnancy comments from these little girls than insensitive old men.

I'm still having lots of contractions and cramping and thanks to my appointment this morning, I know that they are doing more than just annoy me.  More progress on the dilation and effacement front.  Thank you, Jesus.  The baby is low, my hips and (especially) pelvis are extremely sore and uncomfortable, and there are a lot times when I feel like this baby is going to fall out of me at any moment.

Maybe those insensitive engineers are onto something, after all?

It's hard to believe that whether she comes a little early or right on time - it won't be long now!

Take Luck,

LP

Mother's Day

My third Mother's Day is in the books and I can hardly believe it.

We celebrated my mom on Saturday by taking the ferry to Seattle so we could meet up with my little sister and spend the day celebrating the amazing mother that she is.

We went to the Woodland Park Zoo where he Cam didn't seem too interested in the animals (other than the penguins) but after witnessing his dance moves on the lawn - I was mostly convinced that the wild beast belonged there.

My little sister captured a really sweet moment between my mom and I.  We were standing there, watching a bird you wouldn't expect to see sitting in a tree sit on a tree (I know, super exciting), and my mom was feeling the baby move inside my big 'ol belly.  She loves to feel the baby move and I can't say that I blame her.

After the zoo we went to my sister's place so we could eat lunch, Camden could nap, and we could recharge the batteries a bit before going to an early dinner.  What can I say?  We like to eat.

  

A day shy of 37 weeks pregnant and a full stomach courtesy of lunch and dinner makes for one big and uncomfortable baby belly.  We made it home late and thank goodness Hammy didn't put up a fight about going to bed because we were all exhausted.

Sunday morning we all got up together bright and early and Ryan treated me to doing the grocery shopping, filling my car with gas, and bringing home a delicious Starbucks coffee.  When he got home he made sure to tell me that he considered buying me a Mother's Day card and flowers, but then decided - eh, better not.  I've never met someone who takes the phrase "it's the thought that counts" so literally.

Cammy, my 37 week belly, and I played outside a lot and our time included me being traumatized multiple times by the pesky garter snakes that have taken residence in our yard.  Much like Tiff, I do not do snakes.  Or rodents.  Or anything else that is creepy and/or slithery so you can imagine how thrilled I was.

My parents came over for a BBQ and we continued to celebrate the special day with a yummy dinner and a wild beast child.  I swear he woke up from his nap and insisted on being a grumpy, defiant, little monster.  The afternoon and evening saw lots of timeouts and tears (from the both of us).

With it being a challenging parenting day, I found myself feeling really guilty with my frustration and the losing of patience.  I know there are (and will be many more) challenging days, but I also know that the days of "just us" are really, really, really limited.  Thankfully we ended the night with him giving me some sweet goodnight hugs and kisses, but darn it if I didn't feel sad after I shut his door and he went to sleep.

Last year I did some reflection on Mother's Day and how I felt about my little guy.  Not much has changed really - except the love and pride I feel for Camden has exploded and grown even more as he has left the baby behind and grown into a little boy.  Even on the tough days, he brings so much joy and happiness to my life.  I feel immeasurably blessed and fortunate to be his mommy, and feel so grateful to be living the life I live with my guys and this sweet, growing, little ladybug.  I am so excited to give Cam a little sister and for next year's Mother's Day picture to show me holding two sweet babies.

   

Take Luck,

LP 

36 Weeks

From the looks of this blog, you'd think this pregnancy was consuming my life as that's all I seem to talk about.  Rest assured that while it's a big part of my life, I do not just sit here caressing my ever expanding tummy and daydreaming about this baby girl.  Well, maybe I do a little bit.

Mom and I got to take a peek at my little honeydew this morning via ultrasound.  I am happy, happy, happy (OK, thrilled) to report that she is definitely head down and weighs a very healthy 5 pounds 15 ounces, give or take whatever the margin of error is on the ultrasound.

With all the Braxton Hicks contractions, sporadic real contractions, and cramping I've had the past several weeks - I was very excited to hear that changes are indeed happening on the dilation and effacement front.  My hope is that this little bug will greet us with her presence a little early (emphasis on the little) but I am well aware that I could stay like this without anything truly happening for the next several weeks.  What will be, will be.  

I had my Strep B test and they also drew blood to check my platelet count.  I don't care what my platelet count is so long as I am in the clear for an epidural.  Judge away, but hear me roar that I have nothing to prove.  I'm going in with the mindset that we'll see how labor goes, but I will not hesitate to ask for the juice if I feel so inclined.

What else has been happening recently? 

We finally got the lead out and moved furniture into baby sister's room and I've slowly been hanging things on the wall.  I seriously could enter a contest for the world's most inept interior designer and the 20 texts and pictures I sent to my Tiff asking for her help/opinion would solidify my nomination.  Aside from the prints my college roommate, Becky designed for me - her room is by no means Pinterest worthy, but it'll do.

Baby has had the hiccups several times in the last two weeks.  I swear Camden had them all the time and from very early on when in utero, and she only just recently started.

The comments I mentioned have begun in the form of "Woah," "Isn't it almost time yet?" and "Oh, you still have that many weeks to go?"  Let's just suffice to say that I've perfected the smile, nod, and "watch it" awkward laugh.  I also really enjoy the men that put their arms/hands out to mimic the size of my tummy - as if I'm not aware.  The funniest part to me is that I don't think I'm that big, so what the hell, people?

The reality that Camden's time as my baby boy/only child is really starting to set in.  Most of the time, I keep my composure and concentrate on the positives of this change, but there are definitely times when I burst into tears.  Between working full time and putting him in daycare, and now only weeks away from rocking his world - my mommy guilt is dangerously high.  I'm trying to soak up and be intentional with all the time I have left with just my Hammy Cammy.

My cousin came over from Seattle this past weekend to take some maternity and family photos of us and I am really, really excited to see them.  She is out of town for the next 10 days, so in case you are wondering, I'll be over here practicing patience until she sends me the goods.  I'll be sure to share.

I'm a real spectacle as I hustle to the bathroom 80 times a day.  Last week I was on my way to the bathroom when I felt a sneeze coming on, so I picked up the pace and was silently pleading with myself, "Don't sneeze! Don't sneeze!"  Sneezing and I are not on the best of terms right now and I would imagine our relationship will continue on this course for quite a while.

I officially see my OB every week from here on out.  

Now excuse me while I go sanitize binkies and bottles, and pack my hospital bag.

Take Luck,

LP

34 Weeks

Why is it that so many of the "This week, your baby is the size of a..." compare your baby to a variety of squash?  There has to be other large vegetables out there, right?  At 34 weeks, The Bump compares this little lady to a butternut squash. 

I kinda don't mind that comparison  because "butternut" makes me think of "butterball" and "butterball" makes me think of squishy cheeks.

Onto a super exciting pregnancy status update. 

I haven't been sleeping very well this pregnancy, which is totally different from my experience with Camden.  I don't think I had any sleep issues with him until the very end, and this was evidenced by all the whacky pregnancy dreams I had (and shared).  Recently, I must have been sleeping deeply for once because I dreamt that the baby's hand was coming out through my belly button.  Creepy.

Speaking of sleep, I have to do a three point turn when in bed and switching from my right to left side.  I think I previously described this as feeling like at turtle stuck on its back/shell.  There is some serious rocking going on to get my momentum up to change positions.

Last week I went into Sephora to restock some makeup essentials.  I couldn't find the shade/color of Bare Minerals foundation I was looking for and asked an employee for some help.   She said that of course she could help me, but first asked me to help her pick up some promotional material that had fallen on the floor.  Cue audible snort and eyebrow raise.  Just kidding, but I really wanted to ask her if she was serious.

I feel like my body is really started to "be pregnant."  The water retention is real and my feet get puffy at the end of the day.  Also, my hips and pelvis don’t lie and I can tell my body is starting to prepare for the big day because both are so very sore.  Relaxin hormones are rampant.  I have also noticed in the last two weeks that people at work first make eye contact with me and then their eyes immediately drift south to my belly.  I'm just waiting for someone to say, "Haven't you had that baby yet?" so I can mentally punch them in the mouth.  Also, I officially can't go anywhere in public without a stranger commenting on my pregnancy/belly.  Thankfully it's nothing rude - just lots of questions about my due date and the baby's sex. 

The other night Camden sang, in its entirety, "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" to baby sister and I hard core swooned.  I really hope his "excitement" for baby sister remains once she arrives.  We bought him a little baby doll to help practice how to hold a baby and gentle touches.  Sometimes he is super gentle and other times he carries her around by her feet.  Time will tell.

My 34 week OB appointment went really well, other than I still don’t know for sure if sister's position has changed from breech to head down.  Sometimes I think she has flipped but then other times I feel like she is tap-dancing on my bladder.  We will have an ultrasound at 36 weeks to check/confirm her position, as well as her size/growth.  I'm measuring small for dates and just want to make sure that she is a "healthy small" and not an "unhealthy small."  Plus, I'll accept any chance we get to peek in on the little ladybug.

Until 36 weeks.

Take Luck,

LP

32 Weeks

At 32 weeks, The Bump compares baby's size to that of a squash.  That feels pretty accurate because this baby is certainly squashing my bladder.  Maybe that's why I go pee 72 times a day.

I'm sure you are dying to know what else is going on in my pregnancy, so I'll tell you.

I saw my OB Monday morning and all was measuring and sounding well in there.  I swear, there is nothing like hearing that little heart beat on the doppler.  My doctor assured me that she isn't concerned about the baby's breech position right now, and that I shouldn't be worried about it either.

Speaking of frequent urination, I have started using the inconvenience as an escape tactic for when a particularly long-winded co-worker sits down to talk to me.  Oh, you want to talk to me about your brother-in-law's drinking problem?  Darn, I have to go to the bathroom.  Yes, again.

I normally can exercise some amount of self control when it comes to sweets (let's be honest, exercising self control is about the only exercise I've been getting lately), but one day last week I made a special trip to a candy bowl on my floor.  I picked out a mini M&M and a mini Milky Way.  A crotchety, male co-worker said to me, "Are you sure you need both pieces?"  There were other people around so I laughed and said, "Don't judge me, Bill."  What I really wanted to say was, "Eff you, Bill," and eat the Milky Way in one bite right in front of his face.  And maybe throw the wrapper at him.

As the belly grows (and grows), the awkward belly touching is becoming more and more frequent.  I swear, if I even see one particular co-worker, even across the building/hallway, she will walk to me with her hands outstretched for a feel ski.  She's like a pregnant belly tractor beam and sucks me right in.

In the last few weeks Ryan and I started actually crunching the numbers for putting two kids in child care.  Let's just say I have thrown up in my mouth and had some heart palpitations about it more than once.  It is what it is.

The fact that my gas episodes haven't have killed Ryan is a frigging miracle.  Too much, I know, but honestly people.  

Finally, while I have remained pretty even keeled emotionally throughout the pregnancy thus far, I really lose it when watching television shows or movies that are even remotely sad or emotional.  Watching Grey's Anatomy?  I'm pretty sure I've cried at least once during each and every episode this season.  The Glee series finale?  Total basket case for the final 15 minutes.  And finally, like a complete idiot, I watched the last 30 minutes of Eight Below and ugly cried to the point that Camden was staring at me like, "What the hell, lady?"

This pregnancy is going by so fast.  It's exciting and terrifying all at the same time.  My friend, Alex, just had her baby (a girl!) yesterday, and I'm telling ya - as more of my friends and family have their babies, the more real it all feels.

Feeling all the feels, for sure.

Take Luck,

LP  

The Toddler Bed Transition

As a result of my catching the nesting bug, last Sunday we cleared out the room that will be the nursery and moved furniture from one spare room to the next.  Part of the "furniture moving" process was to assemble Camden's (free, hand-me-down) Thomas the Train Toddler Bed, and move it into his room so he could get used to seeing it and be something for us to talk to him about until it was "time."  

After initially freaking out at the thought of trying to transition him to a toddler bed so baby sister could use his crib, and many talks with my wise mommy friends, I had decided (and vowed) that I wouldn't worry about transitioning him and we would wait and see how we all felt about it once the baby was born.  I was (and still am!) planning to keep her in our room for the first three months so really, he wouldn't have "needed" to be out of the crib until mid-August or so.

Anyway, why in the world I thought he wouldn't be excited over this totally awesome Thomas bed is beyond me.  Clearly, along with having the worst memory (thank you, pregnancy), I've also entered into a state of delusion.  He was over the moon excited and insisted on taking his Sunday nap in his Thomas bed.  Rest assured that normally, we do not let our two year old call the shots, but because he was so excited, we figured it wouldn't hurt to at least give it a try.

We tucked him in, explained that big boys stay in their big boy beds, said goodnight, and closed the door.  What he didn't know was that Ryan and I were standing directly on the other side of the door watching his every move with our video monitor.

He immediately got out of bed, stood in the middle of the floor, and stared at himself in the mirror for 20 seconds.

   

It took a few times going in and out of his room, explaining to him that he needed to stay put (and even threatening to put him in his crib which he made very clear that he didn't want to do), but in a relatively short amount of time - he was out.  And our jaws were on the floor.

  

If I recall, it wasn't the longest nap in the history of Sunday naps, but it wasn't a total disaster either.  I  immediately started worrying about how that night would go and how we would approach the sleeping arrangements.  He seemed adamant that he didn't want to sleep in his crib, but I also didn't want my wild beast child wandering the house at all hours of the night.  Again, contrary to his occasional beliefs - he isn't the boss around here, but I was very curious as to how it would go down if we were willing to give it a shot.  This all had kind of happened organically (yes, I really just said organically) and no where was this transition in my plan.  A Sunday afternoon is the absolute last time I would spring a big change like this.  Needless to say, I was fearing the worst for that Sunday night and rude Monday morning.

Much like the first nap, it took a few times of him getting out of bed, standing in the middle of his room, and getting gentle reminders from us that he needed to stay in bed - but he was able to fall asleep on his own in a pretty impressive (to us) amount of time.  I watched him on the monitor like a hawk, just waiting for him to hop his little self out of bed.  This hawk watching continued all night long while my hubby slept like a rock beside me.  Guess what?  He hardly moved, let alone let himself out of bed.

At 6:15 the next morning (Monday), I was downstairs getting ready for work and I heard his door open.  He was so happy and so proud and said, "Hi, Mommy!"  We praised the heck out of him, and I chalked the successful night up to a fluke.

I'll spare you the daily play-by-play, but every night since has gone incredibly smooth.  We lay in his Thomas bed together and read his stories, I say goodnight and shut his door, go back in a few times to remind him to stay in bed, and then he's asleep.  The one and only issue that we're having is that the little pork chop has been waking up really early and letting himself out of his room - ready to greet the day.  The earliest greeting came at one 5am when he burst through our door asking to go downstairs and "watch baseballs."  Otherwise it's kind of varied from 5:30am - 6:10am.  He's always been an early riser (I get him up at 6:30am to get ready for daycare/work), but I'm not even waking up until 5:30am on the weekdays.  

Some days have been earlier/later than others, and it's taken some commitment and discipline on our part to march him right back into his bed when he wakes up too early.  As easy as it would be to let him climb in our bed or just stay awake - neither Ryan or I want to go down that road.  We like having our bed to ourselves and I certainly do not want Cam thinking that anytime before 6am is a normal or acceptable waking hour.  

I ordered this to try and help him understand that he needs to stay asleep and in bed until the clock says it's ok to wake up, but someone keeps forgetting (hello, pregnancy brain) to buy AA batteries at the store and so it's just siting there on his bookshelf doing nothing.  I'm hopeful that once I get my act together and purchase some batteries, we'll go back to not seeing his little face until 6:30am.

We still have the crib in his room so we can use it as leverage to get him to stay in bed, but we are making progress and it's taking less reminders from us before he's staying put and falling asleep.  The plan is to move it into baby sister's room in the next few weekends so we can start talking to him some more about how his world is about to be rocked. 

I certainly wasn't ready to tackle this transition, but apparently he was. 

Take Luck,

LP

30 Weeks

30 weeks is here and making this whole "we're having another baby" thing feel really real.  And it's funny to me because "30 weeks" sounds so close, yet my due date is still a little over two months away.

Friends who were pregnant before me have started having their babies and I think that's helping with the "reality" factor.  Most importantly, my best friend Tiff welcomed the most perfect Eloise.  My friend Kara welcomed her fourth girl (Nelle) and Ryan's cousin's wife somehow naturally birthed a 12 pound baby boy (Eric).  Next up is Alex, and I cannot wait to see if her baby is a boy or girl.  My sweet sister-in-law is due at the end of April with a boy.  And then it's our turn.

It's feeling really real because all these beautiful babies are being born and things up in here are getting round, wide, and all sorts of super fun.

What sort of super fun, you ask?  Heartburn, indigestion, acid reflux and I have a daily get together.  It's getting to the point where I bend over to pick up Camden's toys and I can literally feel the acid being pushed up my chest.  

My hands will frequently go tingly and/or numb because apparently pregnancy carpal tunnel is totally a thing.  

And last week, when walking down a slightly narrow hallway in my office building, a man walking the other direction as me dramatically pressed himself up against the wall in an effort to let me by.  I know I'm getting bigger, but shit - I'm not wearing a flashing "wide load" sign, buddy. 

I had an ultrasound on Monday to check in on baby sister's growth, because at our anatomy scan in January she was measuring smaller than average.  According to the ultrasound, she's measuring around 2 pounds 15 ounces - which is great!  That puts her in the 29th percentile and my doctor was really pleased with her progress.  The ultrasound also showed that the baby is breech, so I am extremely hopeful that she will flip head down on her own.  We will take another peek at 36 weeks to check her position.  My doctor said there isn't really anything I can do to help her flip, but I am pretty sure there are some yoga-esque poses that might be worth a try.

Her being in the breeched position totally makes sense in retrospect. My ribs (especially the left side) have been really achy and painful this pregnancy and I had no idea why. Well, it's because her little noodle is wedged up in/under there.

Because I have a blood disorder, my doctor frequently checks my platelet counts.  I've never had an issue while pregnant, but it's good to know if I am at a heightened risk for bleeding and if the numbers were below a certain threshold, I wouldn't be able to have an epidural.  Funny how with Camden's pregnancy and birth plan I was hoping for a natural birth, and this time, I'm like, "give me the juice."

I think we are pretty much decided on baby sister's name.  My only worry is if we meet her and the name doesn't feel right?  We don't have a solid backup (or any backup for that matter), so if she comes out and it doesn't fit - we're in trouble.

The nesting bug has kicked in and I'm finally making (slow) progress on getting the nursery put together.  We finally cleared out the room of all the furniture, and my little sister was kind enough to paint for us.  Thanks to my nesting, Cam unintentionally transitioned to a toddler bed.  But that's a whole other post and I'm still trying to wrap my head around my baby sleeping in a big boy toddler bed.

Until 32 weeks.  Think baby flipping thoughts for me.

Take Luck,

LP

27 Weeks

I blinked and suddenly it's March.

27 weeks down, and one week left in the second trimester.  Frightening and exciting all at the same time.

My sense of smell has been on red alert this entire pregnancy and showing no signs of stopping.  Public restrooms are practically public enemy number one.  The dogs come in from outside and I have to shoo them away because I can literally smell "the outside" on them.  I can sniff out practically anything - good and bad.

I have a nightly ritual that I've started to call "doomed dinners."  I can hardly look at or prepare meat, let alone eat it.  So, most nights I am holding my breath while preparing something "meaty" for Ryan and then thinking of something simple (and non-meaty) to make for myself.  More often then not, what I choose to make for myself doesn't smell or taste good either.

I had my first overly-awkward-stranger-pregnancy-conversation last weekend.  While at the grocery store, in the meat section, the meat lady (who we have ordered meat from for several years now but is purely the meat lady) approached me in front of the stew meat and said, "Are you pregnant?!  Is it a girl?!  I can tell." I had no idea what she meant by being able to tell that it's a girl, but whatever.  Meat lady then asked, "Was it planned?"  I wouldn't expect a family member to ask this question, let alone a stranger.  Because I am a chicken shit, I laughed uncomfortably and assured her that yes, it was planned.   Camden then yelled from the shopping cart, "Mommy, wets (let's) go!" and I have never been more thankful that he has the capability of being rude.  

At this time, I would like to retract my previous statement that my belly is growing round and not wide.  While it still is mostly out front and round - I can't help but notice that it's now growing out in both directions.

Last night while getting ready for bed, I pulled up my pajama pant leg and told Ryan, "I haven't shaved my legs in two weeks.  Feel."  He gave me the "I really don't want to do this, but I'm going to do this so you don't start crying irrationally" look and was clearly shocked when there was nary a stubble.

I had the (not) pleasure of drinking my lemon lime glucola drink for my glucose test this morning.  I thought I would break it up into several chugging sessions but after my second-go, I realize that was a terrible idea and I just needed to chug, chug, chug.  I finished the drink and kept it down, but immediately got a monster headache and acid reflux.       

In three weeks I'll go back and have an ultrasound to check baby girl's growth.  She's measuring "smaller than average," so they want to make sure she is growing and that everything is groovy in there.  Given how my belly is growing, I'm confident that she's growing, but know she just may be a small/smaller baby.

Until 30 weeks.

Take Luck,

LP

23 Weeks

23 weeks down and May doesn't feel very far away.  At all.

The belly and the belly button have officially popped, making those people who were previously side-eyeing me, wondering if I was pregnant or letting myself go - now feel confident that it's the former.

Speaking of the belly button - I'm fairly confident that Camden associates the baby with my belly button.  He is always poking it (trying to poke it back in, perhaps?) and I'm wondering if he thinks that's how the baby will make her exit from my body?  That's frightening to think about.

The belly pop apparently gives people the impression that the belly is open for rubbing business.  I don't mind when my parents or siblings do this - but when strangers or work acquaintances reach out to cop a feelski, I really want to reach out and rub their bellies in return.  Just to see what they would do.

This week, a male co-worker (who I don't actually work with but we are within the same division) came to my desk with some chocolate in hand.  He put the chocolate on my desk and with a smile said, "I heard about your situation."  Since when did being pregnant become a "situation"?  I didn't bat an eye and happily ate the chocolate.  Because hello, it's chocolate.

I had my 23 week OB appointment on Monday morning.  While standing on the scale and watching the nurse continue to slide the slider-thing farther and farther to the right - I started to do a little mental math.  I confirmed that I gained seven pounds in four weeks.  The nurse could tell I was a little shocked and she said, "Well, the good news is - you can't tell!"  I laughed and said, "Maybe, but I don't know if that's a good thing."

I am officially the annoying pregnant woman who randomly touches or rubs her own tummy.  I don't remember doing this a lot when pregnant with Cam.  Maybe I did - but I think this time I am more aware of my body and the likelihood that this will be my last pregnancy.

Baby girl is moving/bouncing around in there a lot more - especially at night.  I think she is more active than Camden was at this point, but who knows.

I pee so much during the day that I'm starting to count my 38 daily trips to the bathroom as exercise.  

I will have another OB appt in four weeks (27 weeks) and get to take the dreaded glucose test.  At my appointment on Monday, the nurse asked what flavor glucose drink I wanted - fruit punch, lemon lime, or orange.  After some internal debate, and asking if I could pick none of the above, I settled on lemon lime.  Gross.  

Take Luck,

LP

Feeling the Feelings

I'm going to go out on a limb and state something really obvious.  Being a mom is hard.  Wonderful, yes.  But really frigging hard.  And I really don't think it matters if you are a stay-at-home mom or a work-outside-of-the-home mom.  Each has its challenges, and at the end of the day - you are raising a human being.  It's wonderful.  And hard.  All at the same time.

Most days I feel like I have two jobs.  One job pays me in dollars and the other one pays me in open mouth kisses, the handing off of chewed up food, and tantrums.  You might think that the job that pays me in dollars would be more stressful than the one that doesn't, but it's the opposite.  I sit at work and I'm thinking about Cam - wondering how his day might be going at daycare, and counting down the minutes until I get to hug and squeeze him at pick up.  I don't sit at home on the evenings and weekends thinking about work.  I'm confident in my abilities at my dollar paying job as a project manager, but I'm not always confident in my abilities and decision making skills as a mother.

I know I'm not alone, either.  All mothers face challenges, question their abilities and decision making, and at times - feel inadequate.  (And if a mother told me she didn't - I would call her a liar.)

One of my many challenges, is that Ryan's work schedule changes a lot, and he frequently has to work odd or extended shifts.  This week he started another round of swing shift (6pm - 6am).  This shift means a couple things for our family.  First, we see Ryan for about five minutes in the morning after he gets home and before we leave for daycare/work, and then we see him again for about 20 minutes after we get home from daycare/work and before he leaves.  Second, when/if he is home on the weekends, he is utterly exhausted and trying to catch up on sleep.  Third, and perhaps the more obvious, is that this means that I'm flying solo on the parental duties.  Maybe this makes me sound like a big 'ol whiner, but when you throw in pregnancy, swim lessons, meals, baths, and the bedtime routine, all after a full day at work - it makes for one very tired mommy.

Normally, I feel like I keep my shit together.  I go about my evening, and enjoy the time I get to spend with my little man cub.

Tuesday, however, I did not keep my shit together.  At all.

I picked Camden up from daycare, raced home to see Ryan for five minutes, and then got Cam and I back in the car to go to swim lessons.  Just pulling into the parking lot at the YMCA is enough to give someone a panic attack, because holy New Year's Resolutions.  Not a spot to be found.  I circled and circled the massive parking lot, and in hindsight, I should have taken this as a flashing red sign to wave my white surrender flag and go home.  Instead, we found a spot and went inside where I quickly discovered I forgot (of all things) a swim diaper.  Swim lessons were all good and fun (after I borrowed a swim diaper from a fellow mom), and as a bonus - my mom was there to help get Cam dried and dressed afterwards.  Lucky for me, having her help gave me the extra ten seconds I need to wipe the smeared mascara off of my face, so I could avoid walking out of the place looking like a psychopath.

I got Camden into the car and the thought of going home to prepare dinner made me want to rip out my hair, so we drove across the street to Panera.  It was while sitting in the blessed drive-thru line that I responded to an earlier text message from Tiff.  I don't remember exactly what I said but I know it included, "chaotic," "in the Panera drive-thru," and "I have nothing left."  I should mention here that I always feel bad whining to Tiff about being an exhausted mother.  She stays at home with her busy-body boy Huck, and I don't know how she does it.  I'm pretty sure that if I were a stay at home mom, I would "have nothing left" every single day.

We got home, unloaded, settled, and started in on our dinner.  Cam wasn't super interested in his meal (shocker!), and was more interested in playing with his toys.  He wasn't being naughty by any means, but if he did something that I would normally, calmly, tell him not to do - there was no calmness in me to be found.  Only me raising my voice and my already short patience fuse was burning shorter and shorter.    

Time to start the bedtime routine quickly arrived, so we hopped upstairs.  Camden continued to be in his normal, turkey-ish spirits, only slightly fighting me when I was trying to brush his teeth because "I do it" (he wanted to do it himself) and asking for more "wotion".  Instead of letting him do it himself for a minute, and giving him another dab of lotion, I raised my voice yet again, clearly losing my cool.  We sat in the rocking chair to read books, and rocked together all snuggly for a few minutes afterwards.  Cam was calm and happy, totally oblivious that five minutes earlier I was about to lose it, and giving me more kisses than I could have ever asked for.  And more kisses than I clearly deserved.  I gave him one last squeeze, laid him down, said "I love you, buddy," turned off the light, and closed the door.

The door wasn't even completely closed before the ugly crying face made its really ugly appearance.

In that moment, the last three hours came crashing down and I felt like the worst mother in the world.  Seriously, I spend three hours with him this afternoon/evening and I can't handle it?   

Don't confuse yourself and think that this was my first rough day rodeo.  I've had plenty of days where I thought I could have "done better," or wished that I could have a redo, but right then - I felt absolutely terrible.  Terrible because I felt like I squandered the few hours I get with Camden.  Terrible because he didn't do anything to deserve my frustration.  And terrible because the days of him being the sole recipient of my mommy love are numbered.  I won't even go into the part about me questioning my abilities to bring another baby into our house and parent two kids.

As I was blubbering to myself in our bedroom (texting Tiff and Cara, practically begging them to tell me that they've felt like this too), I knew that my feelings of inadequacy and my inability to cut myself some slack were borderline ridiculous.  Maybe even a few toes over the line, ridiculous.  I know pregnancy hormones were playing their dirty tricks on me because until this week, I've overall felt very even keeled and not at all like a dramatic, hormonal pregnant woman.     

No one (pregnant or otherwise) can keep it together all the time.  No one has unlimited patience.  We're all allowed to have bad/off days.  And I know all of these things.  I was telling myself all of these things (as were Tiff and Cara), but the more I tried to reassure myself that I am a human being, the worse I felt.  I finally hopped in the shower, drank a bunch of water (while trying to trick myself into thinking it was a delicious pinot noir), read my book, swore that the next day would be a fresh one, and went to sleep.

I vowed to take tonight night off from swim lessons - to give myself a break and just have a quiet night at home.  Clearly, I'm still reflecting and feeling all the feelings from Tuesday.  I know I'll get over myself eventually and move on -- probably to feeling all the feelings about bringing a new baby home.

I bet you can't wait to read about those feelings.

Take Luck,
LP