Post-partum.

My postpartum weeks were hard. Not in the sense that things were bad, I loved the early days of mothering. I loved waking up every two hours like clockwork to nurse and change little E's diapers. I loved knowing that the tiny bundle of amazing laying next to me was mine to keep. I hated that it felt like my body was put together wrong as my pelvis and legs healed from the incredible workout we gave them on December 14. I hated that I would have to go back to work and be separated from my little guy. I'm not kidding, I'm addicted to my kid. The idea of spending eight hours in a place where I wouldn't see him nearly allllll day was very sad. I didn't write much regarding that period in time, but here's what I had to say as of my six-week checkup.

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from January 25, 2010 posting:

I had my six week checkup at the midwife's office. I'm physically healed up from giving birth. Mentally, I guess the chemicals are coming back to normal though the ups and downs are not fun.

I haven’t felt like myself lately. I guess that’s understandable since myself has been replaced with a new focus, a little other self, that little boy I’ve fallen so madly in love with over the last five weeks. I’m moving into week six with him and the hours slip away so quickly, whether I’m enjoying those moments when he’s calm and alert, or asleep on my lap, or enduring what I’ve now labeled ‘afternoon grumpy time’ where he screams relentlessly between naps and nursing sessions. Sometimes he even screams while trying to nurse… which makes it a challenge to keep faith in the idea that I’m doing things right as a mom. It’s hard to feel like it’s right when the little guy doesn’t want to calm down for anything.

I’ve been riding the waves of hormones as I return for the most part back to the person I was pre-pregnancy. Some days that can be rough, since I can’t seem to collect my thoughts or focus my attention to complete a task. I have three projects I’m simultaneously attempting to find the focus to complete- researching a childbirth educator certification, plotting out the 2010 garden, and keeping the house together (bills, etc.). Most days it’s easier and less exasperating to simply sit in the basement living room on the couch, baby in my lap, laptop on the table in front of me and set to facebook where I can watch my friends’ facebook updates scroll up while Elijah naps or nurses- occasionally using a toe to navigate or type. I watch a lot of discovery channel and history channel during the day because the lower channels are mostly mind-sucking crap (soap operas and courtroom shows). Aside from random trips to wal-mart or the grocery store… or runs out to Babies R Us for more bottles to try out on him, I don’t go many places and haven’t really wanted to.

Friday I broke with my usual routine since Barry didn’t have class or appointments that morning, and took Elijah for the requisite Tour de Bebe at work… that way all the ladies could ooh and ahh over the darling infant (even though he’s about twice the size of the average infant they get to see when someone brings in a newborn). It was good to get to see everyone again, though it also sent icy fingers of panic through me since in all my quiet time in my house I’d forgotten how big, bright, and noisy the office can be. I felt completely disoriented and overwhelmed while we were there. My desk is still as I left it. Everyone is as I remember. The real world is apparently still waiting for me to return out there in cubeland. I miss my old routine, but love my time with Elijah. I wish I had a way to do both at the same time, but I can’t. It makes me incredibly sad to think about soon passing the daytime feedings and changings and milestones off to Barry five days and 40 hours a week.

Of course, with the transition of me back to work and Barry into my role, we’ve hit some snags. Sure Elijah loves him, and when I can’t calm him down, Barry is often the only one he wants. Unfortunately, I’m the only one who can feed him. It’s not for lack of trying… he’s not unwilling to try a bottle. It’s just that every freaking baby bottle has about an inch long nipple that gags him, or the ‘slow flow’ isn’t. Poor little guy either chokes on the nipple or nearly drowns on the milk flowing from it. Quite often he’ll give it a good shot, but once the choking or gagging commences, GAME OVER!!!

After a failed attempt with a bottle, he clings to me as though he thinks I’m never going to feed him again. So far we’ve tried the adiri natural nurser- too fast, the breastflow bottle- too fast, nuk- too long, soothie-too long and too fast, avent-too fast and too long, dr. brown- too fast, too long, Playtex ventaire- fast but almost okay. Next up are the drop-ins. There’s no doubt he’ll master it sooner or later. If he doesn’t, then I guess we try an SNS attached to Barry’s finger. It’s sooo stressful though.

Counting this week, I have three weeks left as a domestic engineer.

-L.

The Birth Story.

Originally published Friday, 18 December, 2009

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I’m still at a loss for words regarding all that has transpired this week. One word alone fairly sums up the experience: AMAZING. I still sit here looking at this beautiful baby and am in awe that he’s ours and we get to keep him. Ten years I’ve been waiting to be a mother and now I finally am. Three losses, and several moments during this pregnancy when I thought all was lost or at least in jeopardy, but now he’s here and sleeping on my husband’s chest and all seems mostly right in the world… at least at the moment while they’re both sleeping, but that’s another story for another time. Right now I just need to put down the story so I don’t forget.

Monday, 14 December was just another day in the life. I had two more days of work until vacation was to begin, and the baby wasn’t due for another six days. I hadn’t really given any thought to whether I’d go to my due date or over because there really hadn’t been any signs of a change other than losing part of my mucous plug, which I knew could happen even weeks before labor actually starts so I certainly wasn’t hanging my hopes on that one little sign. I hadn’t had any stronger contractions, just a little achy feeling in my pelvic bones which I figured was just the awkward way I was carrying all this weight. Honestly, I really hadn’t had any of the practice contractions in a day or so that I could feel, so in my mind, it was all good to go. I was going to work two days and have three days vacation, maybe a baby over the weekend, two more days of vacation, then maternity leave. It really was a good plan. It seems however that my plan and God’s plan were not written on the same piece of post-it note or the same calendar.

Monday morning passed uneventfully. I went about my routine at work with hardly any interruptions other than the occasional run to the bathroom (which I have my 32 oz mug to thank for getting such great exercise these last few months). I did my daily paperwork, answered phones, answered questions from curious folk who wanted to know when I was due. I ate lunch like every day, checking email at my desk and looking up a few things while I ate… still not a single contraction. Not a hint of anything. I even started making my post-it note list of things I needed to do after work: Go to Y to swim, finish dishes from weekend, lay out birth supplies, label boxes, clean bathroom upstairs, prep half.com items to ship out Tues morning (yay! Sales!).

At 1:00 I came back from lunch and went back to entering teller offages into the offage file for the day, and all was well until around 1:35 or so, when upon returning from a pee break I was suddenly hit by a weird wave of nausea and a HUGE cramp. “Different.” I thought, but figured that different didn’t amount to anything and kept entering numbers. Five minutes later another one hit harder than the first (while I was on the phone with one of the branch folk) and rattled me a little. I sent a text out to one of my friends to not count today out as a possibility after all. After about the fourth one I finally made the trek across the aisle to let a supervisor know that I needed to go home. Something was different, definitely different. I was having trouble concentrating on work because I was trying to mentally prepare to ride the next wave. I still didn’t totally believe that this was ‘it’, but luckily instinct is stronger than ego sometimes and I made the call for Barry to come get me. Fortunately I did that when I did… because after the walk from the back of the building to the car, I was struggling through another one and on the verge of tears.

As I lowered myself into the car, face white and trying not to cry, Barry asked if I was okay. “Relative
to what?” I responded. “Let’s just go home. I need to be in the shower or something.”

“Oh, crap. We need gas. Are you okay enough that we can stop for gas on the way home?” Barry asked.

“For the moment.”

“Okay, we’ll stop for gas, then go home.”

While Barry put gas in the car I dialed our midwife to let her know what was going on. She said it sounded like things were still early but to keep her posted if there were any changes and to try to time the contractions for an hour to see where we were. It sounded good to me, so that was the plan. The first one I timed came five minutes after the last one ended, and lasted a full 57 seconds. That is also about the time I began to lose track of time and the world around me a bit. As we came off the bypass and were a few blocks from home, Barry thought it might be wise to make one more stop for a source of caffeine for himself, just in case, and maybe some Gatorade for me. I was still doing okay, so I decided to stay in the car while he stopped at the convenience store near our house.

This is where different once again changed… so while he was making his purchase, I suddenly couldn’t handle sitting through the contraction. I had to get out of the car. I even considered walking the rest of the way home, but figured that would only hurt more and decided instead to get out of the car and walk around in circles and move my hips to deal with it. I may have looked weird to passers-by (but in our neighborhood, weird is also a relative term), I really didn’t care much. Things were spinning out of control and I was quite positive by this point that this was indeed ‘it’. Not just ‘it’, but OHMYGODITSMOVINGTOOFASTICANTKEEPUP!!!

A little background here. I was born in about four hours from water breaking to screaming infant according to my mom. I did not learn of this until the day before all of this happened, so I was prepared for the endurance race. I had mentally prepared myself for days of contractions before labor officially happened. I was ready to be walking for hours up and down the stairs at home, laboring on my ball, taking naps between contractions in the early stages, sitting back and enjoying relaxing to the playlist I had created. The present scenario had never presented itself in my thought process since the first baby is usually the one who takes its time to arrive, seeing as the first baby is the one who has to pretty much blaze a new trail and move the bones and muscles around. It’s supposed to be a slow process! Of course, if I’ve learned anything this year it might be that ‘supposed to be’ and ‘is’ are two totally different realms of existence and they rarely run parallel, and even more rarely do they intersect in my life.

As I was saying… while Barry picked up his version of birth supplies- four large bottles of Pepsi, Cherry Pepsi, Coke, Cherry Coke, as well as some Gatorade for myself, I was quickly beginning to understand why everyone I asked said the same thing: “when it’s the real thing, you’ll just know.” I was still trying to cognitively grasp what was going on and attempting to think my way through the process (like you can think your way through an instinct-driven process… ha ha ha) and behave like a civilized human even though as I stood moving around next to the car I had an overwhelming urge to start vocalizing through the contractions. Luckily Barry came out just about that time and we quickly continued our epic journey of two blocks to home. I kept asking if he’d just let me out of the car to walk the last block because I didn’t like sitting. I even distinctly remember telling him that I hated chairs. As soon as he pulled to a stop in front of our house I hopped out yelling “it’s okay, I have keys too. You can meet me in the house eventually. Need in the shower NOW.”

I bounced into the house and up the stairs to the bathtub leaving behind a trail of clothes and accessories, quite certain that I was still in the ‘early stages’ and would be fine as soon as I got my body into water. In the early stage, contractions can slow down if you get into the tub or shower, which I felt confident would work and give me the opportunity to mentally catch up to what was going on and be able to relax through things a little better. It would allow me to prepare better and get through it better. No such luck. I filled the tub halfway and settled in. Momentary relief- followed by things picking up speed.

Barry came in to see how I was doing, and I’m sure hoping that his kinder, gentler wife had been restored from the short tempered and pain wracked beast he’d dropped off in front of the house not ten minutes previously. I was sitting in the bathtub and attempting to relax to the playlist on my laptop which was giving me the red battery icon of death.

“are you okay?”

“Okay is a relative term. I’m okay, but relative to what, I don’t know.”

“Should I fill the birth pool?”

“I think things are still early. Maybe we should call the midwife.” *contraction hits, I try to climb the tub walls*

“Call her now?”

“Yes. Tellherweneedhernow. Now. Please, now.”

Then I entered another time warp. I heard Barry in the other room on the phone with our midwife, then I heard him scurrying around to set up the birthing room- putting the hose in place for the pool, stretching out plastic on the floor, running downstairs to get my water mug and a new straw, changing out of his nice clothes into something he could stand to get a little messy, coming into the bathroom to rub my back and give me a hug. At some point the music died off when my battery croaked. I felt like I left my body for a bit but always returned just in time to experience the next wave of a contraction rising. It seemed like an eternity until our midwife walked through our front door, at which point I was clutching the countertop in our bathroom in a full-on moaning, writhing, shivering, sweating, dancing spectacle of a woman in labor. Hearing my moans from the front door prompted our midwife to call her birth assistant before even coming up to check on me because she could tell from that that things were progressing well and fast. She checked me quickly to see how far I was dilated… 4 cm and a VERY thin cervix by 3:30 (notice, this all began around quarter to two in the afternoon). Our midwife took over helping to hold me together so Barry could continue the manly work of finding things when the birth assistant came in.

By a little after 4PM the birthing tub was full of warm enough water to just add a very uncomfortable me and it was magic. After two hours of laboring on land, to suddenly be surrounded in the warm embrace of the water was pure heaven. It was also a very nice distraction from the fact that every muscle seemed to be tensing without my help. I could float. I could stretch out. I could change positions without my very cumbersome 39 weeks pregnant body getting in the way of itself. Even more awesome- I could rest my head on the soft inflatable sides between contractions and let myself fall into a sort of trance.

I was telling myself over and over again that this wasn’t ‘pain’. This was merely discomfort and would pass. It would pass quickly and bring me a beautiful baby. I kept asking out loud why it had to be like this, and how much longer. My awesome midwife just kept reminding me that my body is doing something beautiful that it was meant to do, and that I just needed to let it do this… and that it would be over as soon as I had that baby… so I just needed to let go and let it happen. Again things got fuzzy. Around 4:30 my water broke. She checked me at around five and I was fully dilated and starting to involuntarily push. Sometime after that I reached down and felt the baby’s head starting to peek out. Then the discomfort of ‘crowning’ began. Shortly thereafter I felt the head come out the rest of the way and felt him start to move around. Then came shoulders, and a whole baby. The huge relief of the pushing stage ending was unbelievable. Almost euphoric.

At 6:30, I was holding my very own child. I was amazed that this tiny squealing thing had come from me, which is mine and I get to keep. The next few hours were a blur again as vitals were taken on both of us, Barry began the post-birth cleanup of the pool and contacted the agency we’d donated the placenta to, and I sat in my newly rearranged body trying to come out of the trance from birthing a nine-pound baby into the world. My main focus was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen, my little Elijah.

I’m not sharing this out of some need to gloat about having a natural home birth. I feel strongly that every woman should have the right to choose whether to have children, but where and how to have them without criticism or insult. I also don’t feel it’s a badge of honor of some sort…but it is the single most amazing, powerful, stunning, and life changing thing I’ve ever done, and I can look back on this moment ten or so years and say “Well, I might have been crazy while I was giving birth, but at least I got to be my own kind of crazy.” Maybe somewhere, somehow, it’ll help another woman in choosing her own kind of crazy.

L.

Dedication.

Saturday, 8 May 2010 was a pretty big day for us. Not only did we have our usual bi-weekly grocery scramble (more on that later) and epic battle against naps, we also had a Children's Dedication at church which we signed little E up for.

Along with our church family and about 100 kids, we took our little guy to be dedicated to the Lord. How amazing it was for us to be able to say before God that not only are we grateful for his grace and generosity in giving us this child, but that we will take responsibility for raising and loving this child in His image and in His ways. It's a challenge for us. We weren't really raised that way. We don't really have great examples in our own families of how to grow our son in God's love so we have to look outwardly. God has been a faithful provider though. He always provides just enough that we might learn joy but also know self-sufficiency. He has placed us with amazing people who do amazing things in His love. He has given us the tools, now we have to do the work.

L.

Fighting demons.

So, this year is my fourth year sober.

This isn't just something to nod at... I had a pretty close relationship with my buddy Jose Cuervo, and the good Captain. I decided on January 15th, 2006, that it was over. I wasn't alive, I was numbing out not only the bad but also the good. There are movies I've watched, books I've read, and conversations I've had that I can't remember fully. On that day though, I realized with my best friend that neither of us were on the right path and that if either of us were going to make it we'd have to do it together, and soon. So, that was our first night sober. That was the beginning of something beautiful.

We didn't know it that night that we'd be married a year and a half later. We didn't know it that night that just short of four years later we'd be the parents of a beautiful baby boy. That night, we just knew we needed someone to stand with, and no one else was volunteering. It was just us putting down the bottle together.

Weeks like this make me wonder how I ever found the strength to do that. Then I remember- I walked away from the people, the places, and the situations. I also had someone to stand with.

We don't have it all figured out just yet. Sometimes it gets pretty tense because we're only human. We're still standing though. We're still standing here together.

Mothering from the cube...

My mother was home with me for the first five years of my life. I had grown up with this idealistic image of my future as a mother doing the same. That's not how things have turned out thus far, though. It has actually gone pretty well so far, me returning to the cube farm, my husband keeping the nest at home nice and warm. I do have some pretty bad mama envy sometimes for my friends who are able to stay home with their babies, as I'm sure some of them envy how I get to spend all day in a room full of grown-ups. Hell, I'm sure even my husband envies the room full of grown-ups most days... especially when our dear four-month-old has a raging nap strike or diaper full of 'gifts'.

Anyway, mothering from the cubefarm has challenges I never foresaw in my little glass ball growing up. I'm thankful to not have the daycare headache that many of my peers have, especially since after bills and groceries there is no extra to devote to paying a stranger to parent our child during the day. I'm sad when my son prefers my husband for comfort over me... but I know he's safe at home while I'm at work. With a stable daytime environment for husband and son, I can work in peace. My job then (aside from earning utilities and groceries) is to make milk. It's really the primary thing on my mind at any given time. It might not even be inaccurate to say that I measure my worth as a mother by the number of ounces I can turn out in a day. It's that important to me- if I can't be at home with him, I can still be his source of nourishment. That's my trade-off.

In many ways I feel my breasts have taken over my life. Of course they've always been a big part of my life in that they used to be too small to fill bras and shirts... now they're quite the opposite. I'm now consumed with their non-aesthetic functions. It's only right. They've waited 29 years to have a purpose in my life other than to worry about future tumors or whether my shirts accentuated them. Now, they are front and center- quite literally.

I'm not saying that all I do for my son is make milk. While my husband is the day-parent, I'm essentially the night parent. I wear him in my ergo carrier while I make dinner. I let him lay on the kitchen floor or sit in his high chair while I prep meals or do the dishes. I dance with him. I talk to him. I read to him. I rock him. I sing to him. I give him his nightly pre-nap bath. I nurse him. It's our thing. I never really feel that I have enough time, because I'm wholeheartedly addicted to my kid. Seriously. Addicted.

Anyway, the milk thing.

I'm not going to judge the moms who supplement or switch entirely to formula. I understand, but for me, it's just not the way to go. I can't justify it because I don't know what's in it and like to know what I'm feeding my son. So, enter my little friend, a Medela Freestyle. I had borrowed an older Medela Pump-in-Style from a friend at work but couldn't control the suction enough and wasn't really able to get as much milk, so when the tax refund came in this year I upgraded. I must say though that pumping is an odd thing. Nursing was something I was okay with right off the bat. I struggled at first with getting his latch right, but I didn't feel weird about it.

Pumping... well, that's a different story. There's just no way to feel warm and fuzzy while sitting topless with plastic receptacles hooked up to your hooters and the groaning drone of the pump. The only thing I can think of to describe it is the awkward difference between making love and masterbation. It makes sense in my warped way of thinking. Nursing is equal to making love because there is skin-to-skin contact, eye contact, love, touch... I feel whole and wonderful while nursing. Pumping is equal to... you get the picture, right? With pumping there's no touch, there's plastic, visual aids, imagining holding the baby, and an odd mechanical feeling that has no soul. Both methods lead to release of chemicals and relief, but it's different with each. The emotion isn't really there with the pump. Plus there's that whole "I'm sitting topless in a little room at work" thing. Awkward, much?

I'm so lucky to work where I do, though. I work with women who didn't have the privilege or the space. I have friends who have had neither. Yet, here I am still feeling awkward as I sit in the little windowless lactation room just off the main ladies' bathroom, knowing that everyone knows I'm in there. And it's becoming harder to pump. Some days are awesome, this week, not so. I've been drinking Mother's Milk Tea two times a day, keeping my calories up, but it seems there might be a supply drop during the day. Yet another mystery to unravel.

I have polled my friends who have experienced similar things.

Well... I start a new tea this week.

-L.

Posts from pregnancy (April-December 2009)

I'm feeling nostalgic a year after this journey began. Care to revisit it with me?

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Friday, June 5, 2009 (FB post)

So, it's out there... today is officially the end of week twelve and I'm getting ready to slide into second trimester. Getting this far has been both the most exhilarating and terrifying experience I've had so far. How many people do you know who actually count it as a blessing to feel 24/7 queasiness, heartburn, and a strong aversion to things with scents? I'm growing out of my clothes pretty quickly and am in love with my stretchy pants.

I've been dog-tired now for about three months... almost to the point of narcolepsy from time to time, but all signs are pointing toward a much better outcome this time than before.

I had a couple scares which led once to the doctor's office at 7 weeks 3 days where we saw the first ultrasound and heard the heartbeat, and one which led to my midwife's office last Friday. I've since fired my doctor since he's a tool who believes that it doesn't matter what concerns me, despite my history, I'm obviously hysterical and must be making mountains out of molehills. Yep, don't mind me, I'm only growing a small human...

My midwife is awesome. She's been practicing for 21 years as a homebirth midwife, and treats me with respect. I like that about her, that it doesn't matter what crazy concerns I have, if it matters to me it matters to her. She takes a more holistic view of the process and acts more as a guide than a know-it-all. She may not be as high-tech as he was, but she is infinitely warmer and more personable. I'll still have to see a doctor a couple times between now and December, but it will be the one she works with in case of a situation leading to a hospital transfer.

We're pretty excited. :-)

So, Barry's getting tools together to build the crib, I'm gathering resources through craigslist and other avenues for clothes and accessories... and we've braved the trip to babies r us to edit a registry we started back in February/March before the 'incident'. We have no idea what gender this kid's going to be, nor am I totally convinced I want to know. I mean it would be cool, but not necessary. I'm just going to be happy to have a live, healthy baby!

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From July 27, 2009 FB Post It's officially been Monday morning for about 12 minutes now, seeing as midnight has come and gone, and since I was held at the mercy of a nap for a couple hours this afternoon, well, I can't say I'll be closing my eyes again anytime soon. It's just one of those quirky things I'm adapting to. It might be kicking my butt around 3:30 or so this afternoon, but for the moment I'll just sit here and enjoy little arms and legs tapping around my insides. That's been the best part of this weekend- the little bugger has been far more active since the big ultrasound Friday morning... it's almost like the tech activated some sort of on switch in my kid and made it more active and forceful!

That ultrasound was something else. I've had nightmares of the tech putting the transducer to my belly only to reveal my own organs and a big gaping empty space, but fortnately reality was a very active baby measuring a day ahead of schedule and moving my due date up from 12/19 to 12/17... but I'm still hoping for a few days of waiting just so I can have a really awesome birthday present this year. It was pretty cool to see our baby turn and flip, waving little arms and legs- seeming so big on that computer screen though in reality the little bugger's only about 6 inches from crown to rump. Did we see the goods? Yeah, we know the gender, but we've decided that since certain family members want to be surprised, and other family members can't keep secrets to save their own lives... well, it's just as easy to not tell any family members so no one feels we've spoiled the fun.

I really haven't done a doggone thing this weekend besides pick some veggies, make a quick trip to the library, a run to walmart, and inventoried the baby room. I swear, I could go three weeks without doing laundry with this kid... so I ended up editing the registries and removing all but a few clothing items that B didn't want to part with... so please, please, please if anyone's thinking about buying outfits and such- please don't! We've hit the garage sales pretty hard this summer for infant goodies... though we do have a nice assortment of goodies on our lists at babiesrus.com and amazon.com (shameless plug, really it's the only proof I have that I did something this weekend besides nap and pick veggies). I guess maybe I did do something... I helped Barry finish his last four quizzes and last two labs for his online Chem class... and tomorrow I might be editing his research paper for said class... Gosh, I'm glad he's almost done with that class- I am not so stellar with chemistry, nor am I exceedingly patient in my present physical state.

The great part of doing nothing physically all weekend is that my mind has been spinning like crazy all weekend. I've already begun mentally plotting out next year's garden layout, coming up with class outlines for the Grow Where You Are classes (beginner's gardening for kids and adults), talking to our kid, planning out the scrapbook for the kid (it's gonna be NEAT!), mentally drawing up plans for cloth diapers, and reading The Birth Book by the Sears Family. Fascinating. If I'm not moving, I can think! :-)

Well, off to do more kid research. Everyone have a great week!

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August 5, 2009 (from fb post)

So, this week is week 21, leaving approximately 18-21 weeks to go depending on when this little passenger decides to make a debut. Thus far, pregnancy really hasn't been *that* bad. In alot of ways I've lucked out by missing the barfiness so many women experience, no cravings, really just an overwhelming urge to just curl up and sleep randomly throughout the day and a sharp drop in my BS tolerance. My newest companion in this is the dizziness that now creeps up on me when I stand for too long in one spot. It caught me off guard on Friday when I was up at the filing cabinet helping a co-worker move a mountain of paper into its rightful home in the cabinet when suddenly those icy hot waves came up over my back and neck, my heart felt like it was going to leap out of my chest, and suddenly I felt like I was sucking air and heading down. Yeah... freaked me out. After twenty minutes of sitting down I still felt the same and opted to retreat to the safety of home in case something really freakish was going on... which of course brought on the tearful ride home as I whimpered to my dearly beloved husband about my frustrations with this stage in life, mainly with being weak.

It is making me come to terms with my go-go-go lifestyle and some serious alterations in behavior that I need to make. It should have been evident in the planning and execution of the garden planting that I am not capable of being my old independent self- it took three weeks to get all the seeds in the ground, and I tried to keep up with the weeding, but eventually decided "screw it, the weeds are keeping the dirt from washing out"... so while I can cleverly say I'm using an ancient soil conservation technique, in reality I'm just too freaking tired and unwieldy to be out there in the sun and reaching into awkward locations to kill unwanted plants. The veggie plants don't seem to mind so it's all good. My house is a disaster- housework has been left primarily to Barry because I have to choose my battles if I want to continue going to work every week. I could feasibly do a marathon top-to-bottom cleaning session again to get this place looking the way it did four months ago- with shiny floors, laundry put away, vacuumed rugs, and no evidence that we have pets... but the last time I did that I couldn't move for a day and a half and had an episode of spotting and a panic-stricken email to my midwife.

Since then, I've made a temporary peace treaty with dustbunnies, dirty dishes, weeds, husband's magazine messes, dog-drool-spotted floors, and unfinished business of all kinds because there's not enough of me to go around, and I can't just drop the world into Barry's lap and say 'here, do it just like I do it' with everything. That's an unreasonable expectation. He doesn't see the world as I do and doesn't have the same abilities I did... he has physical limitations to work around. I have to be okay with what he does get done and how he gets it done.

Peace treaty or not, I do occasionally have meltdowns because I see all the things I used to do and can't do right now. Things that need to be done. Things like cooking dinner after work.

There are pros and cons to this pregnancy thing. I'd have to say my pro list consists of: naps, snacks, an excuse to wear comfy clothes, a reason to avoid crowded places, the little thumps and bumps going on inside my belly, a chance to slow down and relax, and cleavage for the first time in my life. My cons list consists of: intermittent irritability and/or meltdowns at odd and inconvienient times, the skin of a sixteen year old (acne, so fun.), comments about my size and/or attempts at physical contact from strangers and not-so-close acquaintances, no energy, having to buy new clothes, having to deal with doctors, and the drama that inevitably surrounds us when we're happy and certain other family members are not (see previous post)... oh, and having a sense of smell isn't as awesome as I had thought it would be. It's otherwise pretty great.

It seems like such a long time until December. I know we're halfway there already, but patience is not one of my strongest virtues.

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August 23, 2009 (from fb post)

Okay, we're heading into week 23 now. According to all the neat little emails I get, it's now time for the tumbling, thumping little bundle of human in there to start gaining weight and learning how to move those lungs in preparation for that grand entrance in a few months. Four months seems like an awfully long time (especially when I'm trying to find a comfy position to lay down or making my 100th trip to the bathroom in a day), but in reality it's not so long a time. Between now and then I still have so much to do... such as move all the crap that does not have to do with a baby out of the baby's room (one of the closets has been a catch-all for the better part of the year), gather the rest of my homebirth supplies, put together a workable budget for maternity leave, and day after day I have to work on reigning in my attention span and my hormonal outbursts.

The nesting instinct kicked in for both Barry and myself this weekend. He got up on his own Saturday morning and went through his clothes to weed through stuff he's 'grown out of' since he moved back here three years ago. Since he got rid of an entire garbage bag of shirts and pants, I decided to help by digging through the myriad collection of crap stacked on the floor of that closet. Oddly enough, that stuff is still spread out over the baby's room because my ADD kicked in and I wandered off somewhere and haven't gone back yet. It's on my list of to-do's though. It's okay, I have four months left to get this done! :-) Tons of time.

I also spent a little time nesting out in the garden. It wasn't intentional. I just needed three peppers to add to the pot of salsa on the stove (which was not turned on, fortunately). Just three peppers. An hour later, I had a shopping bag (one of those big cloth ones) full of tomatoes, cucumbers, okra, beans, corn, and a tiny little watermelon. I also had an opportunity to test my new center of gravity and looser ligaments. Major fail on my part. Apparently I can no longer step over a fence with my hands full. I attempted to step over a two-foot high pea trellis and nearly faceplanted in the tomatoes. Fortunately the tomato cage I grabbed stayed upright, unfortunately the cucumber I was holding launched into the unknown and may never be seen again- at least not as something potentially edible. Minutes later I discovered anew the joys of looser ligaments, because both hips and both knees started yelling at me for being so graceful.

This weekend I once again found myself in one of those conversations you only find yourself in when you're pregnant. It starts out innocently enough... how are you feeling, how's the baby doing, then it goes into specifics- which hospital, c-section or natural... etc. Then of course, I admit that we're only going to a hospital if by some freak occurrance my body won't do what it's been created to do- yep, we're 'those' people, the homebirthers. Which, regardless of the woman with whom I'm having the conversation always turns into "how are you going to do that without drugs or doctors? You're such a risk taker!", to which I respond with "Every birth is different, every woman is different. It's not going to be that bad. I have faith in my body to do what God built it to do, and He hasn't let me down yet, why would he start now? Besides, it's safer for the doctors if my cranky butt just stays home for this project. I'm not nice to people when I'm uncomfortable." This leads to "well, I'll be praying for you" and a hand reaching for my now-protruding belly... which I am getting good at wiggling away from unwanted gropes. One of those attempted gropers this week was my mother-in-law, someone who knows me well enough to know I'm not 'cuddly'. Seriously, entering my bubble is not good for anyone's health. I'm not really touchy feely unless you're a licensed massage therapist. In which case, my pasty flesh is as good as dough- get to kneading!

Something tells me this is going to happen again and again, and both the hand reaching for the belly and the argument of 'Oh, it's going to be so AWFUL without drugs... why don't you go somewhere where you can have them?' are pretty annoying. Of course, some people probably think it's pretty annoying when the preggo in question has different ideas or won't submit to being touched.

So, the to-do list:
Finish cleaning and straightening baby's room
Organize space in basement where all crap currently in baby's room will go
Install closet organizers so Barry's clothes can move out of baby's room into our room
Sand and refinish upstairs floors- they're gross.
Clean all tile in kitchen and bathrooms- they're approaching gross
Reorganize office
Finish any one of these tasks in a day.

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Week 25- September 5, 2009 (from fb post)

I have approximately three months and three and a half weeks to go if all goes as planned and I don't go into overtime. I'd rather go late than early in any case, but I like the idea of the week of 12/19, give or take a few days. Each day the kicks grow stronger and I feel the gradual change as my center of gravity moves away from where it used to be to somewhere in front of me, and my bones feel like they were assembled hastily and there might be a box of leftover parts somewhere. I'm still enjoying it so far, but the aches and pains make me a little grumpy.

Wednesday I had my 24-week appointment with my midwife, where we discussed a worksheet she had each of us fill out about our feelings about parenthood, our experiences with childbirth, motherhood, parents, our expectations, etc. She said something profound which I'd considered I think on a subconscious level, but not so much pondered on a serious level... and that is "Pregnancy is such a joyful time in your life, but it sure brings up all the crap, doesn't it?"

For Barry and I it's woken up the demons of separated families, past habits, past lifestyles, and how we're going to do going forward with the parenting examples we had. We've had some serious talks about how to knit together something whole and amazing for our kid that we didn't get as kids ourselves- parents who are deeply committed to one another, stability, and a firm foundation in faith and civic responsibility. We both struggle with who we've been and what we've done, and how we're going to explain those things to our kid when the time comes, how to help steer our kid away from those same choices... but how do we do that without seeming like hypocrites?

On my good days when I have energy to spare after work I can generally skirt the issues by busying myself with bizarre nesting instinct habits. Things like sterilizing the kitchen, cleaning out the extra closet in the baby room, sorting my birth supplies into boxes by function, staring intently at three skirts I was supposed to alter for a sewing client (that I've now completely given up on due to material and construction methods outside of my skills and abilities), making lists, sorting piles of stuff in each room of the house, organizing the baby closet, planning next year's garden... and it's all a jumble of projects. I have no attention span, so it's a miracle if I finish one before starting the next. On my too-tired-to-move days, I sit and ruminate on how I want things to be different, but how easy it is to slip into a known pattern of behavior... how there is comfort and safety in that rhythm.

The whole experience thus far has been amazing. There is nothing quite like knowing that there is someone else with me wherever I am, someone who will be watching my every action for the rest of my life (hopefully in a non-creepy way) and learning how to be a human being through me. Unfortunately, that's also a really heavy thing to consider at the same time.

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September 25, 2009 (fb post)

Today is officially 28 weeks. I had a really good appointment with my midwife yesterday morning, looks like things are growing right along as expected, measuring right on time, and the little booger kept trying to kick the fetoscope as she was listening for the heartbeat. The kicks are no longer something I can confuse with something else, as sometimes it feels as though I'm being knocked around by their force. There's also a strange sensation when my tiny passenger decides it's time to stretch out those little arms and legs. There's nothing like it! I can actually watch my abdomen distort and harden as baby uncurls in there.

With the realization that I'm at 28 weeks is the fact that the third trimester is fast approaching. I've got approximately twelve weeks left in this part of the journey. Twelve weeks simultaneously feels like forever and like mere moments as I sit here contemplating just what that means for us in the coming weeks. Sure, the appointments will pick up from here on out... I start going every two weeks from now until November, then they start being weekly.

I feel like I've got to get a move on if I'm going to get anything done around here. I've rearranged the baby's room. I've rearranged my home office. I find myself absentmindedly cleaning the kitchen or bathroom when I'm not actually in either place to do either. I've fine-tuned my birth/pregnancy playlist (http://www.playlist.com/playlist/15922759947). I've been making diapers like crazy (though I have to get some velcro to finish them soon). I've simplified everything I can so my husband can operate the house with minimal input from me as my mind drifts inward toward the coming changes and challenges. I'm consumed with the need to know as much as I can about birth and my dreams are so realistic I really can't tell sometimes the difference between sleep and wakefulness... except for when the dreams take the inevitable turn for the weird. Thank goodness for that!

It's a strange time for me. I'm weighing in at 174 pounds now... which is totally healthy and on track with approximately a pound a week thus far, though I'm starting to hate wearing clothes more than I ever have before. Everything is touching me, and it itches. This is especially a problem since winter is coming, meaning the need for heavier clothes... and I'm soooo not looking forward to that. Aside from the clothing problem, I am having issues with getting comfortable now. My tailbone doesn't like chairs. My bladder is a pillow for my tiny passenger. My muscles are awkwardly stretched so that rolling over in bed is not only a challenge, but a potential injury if I move wrong. I also have what we can call a low tolerance for 'stupid' in all of its many forms. What can I say? It's challenging... and I seem to love a good challenge. If I can make it through the last six months, the next three really don't seem too bad, despite the growing number of discomforts I'll be facing.

Here we go off to the third trimester! :-)

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October 10, 2009 (fb post)

It's officially week 30. Ten weeks +/- until I can not only see my feet again, but use my legs without feeling like my left hip is going to snap out of socket or my pelvis might snap in the center. Don't get me wrong, I am enjoying the hell out of pregnancy... even with its major, major, major inconveniences. There's just something cool about knowing that this odd lump rolling around in my abdomen is a small human which will eventually join the outside world... going from a nearly fish-like existence to that of a land creature after nearly a year in the tank in just a matter of minutes (and I'm in no hurry to get to that point, ten weeks will do just fine, thank you). Unfortunately, with pregnancy, especially third trimester pregnancy... my bullshit tolerance has reached an alltime low, lower than back when I worked eighty hours a week and still had to go to class (and those who knew me then, wasn't that FUN?). So, I'm just going to put out a prophylactic apology to those who are in my immediate path for the quite likely opportunity when your ordinarily endearing qualities push me over the edge and I uncontrollably impale you either physically or verbally. While it may be the hormones talking though, bear in mind that it might really be that you're being a tool. We'll work that out later.

The sudden realization that we're getting so close to the finish line has not only brought me to the realization that I have alot of crap left to finish... such as the stack of a dozen diapers I still need to put velcro and elastic into for our little arrival, or the curtains I have yet to make for the baby's room, or the winterization of the house to make it more efficient this winter (have to buy more caulking, the four windows in the baby's room about ate my entire supply- they were quite gappy), I have an office to rearrange, bugs to work out of the webcam system for B-day, I need to do a top-to-bottom scrub down on the house to knock down some dust and pet hair, a husband going in for surgery in October, and a need for about three strong guys to help move all the A/C units downstairs to the basement- including the behemoth in the living room. This is a great big list. It would be simple for me to do most of it in a day on a normal year, but here I sit, officially into the third trimester with barely enough energy to power through my eight hour workday let alone to take on the daily chores like dishes and laundry without taking LOTS of breaks at the end of the day.

Since I have to do something before my mind runs away in my downtime here at home, I read alot. I catch up on facebook friends' postings... though I get sick of seeing game updates, I prefer the real meat of their lives, what they're doing, how their families are... where they've been... still I read and respond and try to keep up with people all over the globe. I also read the news alot. CNN, BBC, Reuters, and a few from Germany just so I don't lose what little language skills I have for that country. Lately though, reading has just been a pain in the ass. We live in an amazing time and place, but no one is happy (see last night's video post for clarification on some of that). It seems like the headlines (and many of my friends' status updates) are dedicated to life as an asshat. If you're miserable and you know it, take up one of the four new national passtimes! While there used to be just one... and it was gawd-awful boring... baseball... it was apparently replaced sometime in this century by (1) Litigation, (2) name calling, (3) entitlement, and (4) PANIC without information!

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October 20, 2009 (fb post)

Even though I work Monday through Friday, my real weeks run Wednesday to Tuesday according to my due date. So, when I wake up tomorrow, I'll be on the sunny side of the beginning of week 32. Baby is head down and kicking stronger I'm making new friends- Braxton and Hicks... they keep me company all hours of the day. Yep. Nothing quite like walking down the hall to get water or to find my way to the bathroom at work in the midst of a Braxton Hicks contraction. It seems like the rest of my muscles dogpile on top of this tiny little muscle spasm in celebration, so I feel like the big guy in Varsity Blues hauling the ball toward the end zone with ten other players hanging off him. I am not a big fan of having to move around on land at this point because it's simply awkward to try to figure out which limb to move where to keep from falling over, and forget about walking softly... walking is in general more of a lumbering waddle. I prefer swimming to walking... but until they decide to install canals in our office building and everywhere else I wander, I'll have to settle with trying to make sure I can get from point A to point B safely and without falling over for eight more weeks or so.

Despite the discomforts and worries of this pregnancy, I still manage to enjoy it immensely. How can you not enjoy this sort of thing? Right now there is a tiny person rolling and kicking behind my belly button, reacting to my world sometimes before I realize that I am reacting to my world. It's bizarre and amazing all at once. The hardest thing I have to deal with though is the things I can't see- those potential hazards lurking in my immediate environment that could harm me or harm my child through me- like smokers who are too lazy to smoke anywhere other than just outside the building they are in, sick folk who consider it strange to stay home instead of being out and about, dumbass drivers who think it's okay to cut people off while doing 75 mph on the interstate, all the hazards of crowds... yet somehow each day I make it home unscathed (though I hope and pray each night that I don't catch anything else this year, because I can't just stay in hiding all winter), and judging by the kicks and thumps inside, the baby's doing well too.

Eight weeks isn't much time to wrap my head around... especially considering that Barry goes in for arm surgery in two weeks. I've had to revamp our baby registry several times to find items that are more adaptive so Barry can more fully and confidently take part in caring for our new arrival here in a couple months. This is difficult, most equipment is made with able-bodied parents in mind... not differently abled ones who need a little extra help. I have to think of a way to make the house not only baby friendly, but safe for Barry and the baby to coexist. It's not a concern I ever thought I would ever have. I honestly never thought I'd make it this far in a pregnancy, let alone worry about adapting a house and world to fit the needs of a man who is doing his damnedest to stay independent. I think it might actually be harder on him because he doesn't like for me to worry, and he can't stop me from worrying because he knows just as well as I do how much there is to worry about. So, I continue to prepare, to make lists, and to come up with contingency plans.

This week we managed to get a few things taken care of... structural inspection ordered for the room the birthing pool is going to be set up, arranged to pick up pool and water/air pumps, ordered the car seat, and managed to get another five windows caulked in the house-- no mean feat since the house has over 30 of them. Now we're just waiting on our brother in law to get over the flu so he can help us get the massive A/C unit out of our living room window, and to maybe help us get the cabinet out of the basement and into the baby's room.

Now if I could just get the rest of the things on the list finished! :-)

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November 3, 2009 (fb post)

Here we go into week 34. It's amazing. There are two little feet pressing into my right side just below my ribs and a tiny little butt over on my left side. Occasionally both sides are a sea of motion as my tiny passenger wiggles into a more comfy position. There's a tiny set of hands and a head near my bladder. That, too, is a strange feeling.

I feel this sudden urge to get things in order. Well, I've been feeling this for a couple weeks. Over the weekend I managed to get lots of housework done around here, not to mention organizing and inventorying the birth supplies in the room we've chosen for the birth... and setting up the little fishy swimming pool in the corner of said room to let it gas out so we don't asphyxiate on vinyl fumes in December. :-)

The baby furniture is all set up to get over the cat's curiosity ahead of time so we don't have to kick him out of a crib or pack n play to be able to put the baby down for a minute... or worry about him deciding that the dangling toys are for him instead of the baby... damned cat. Mostly he's mystified by the addition of any 'new' furniture since we've had the same pieces of furniture around here for three years now. Now there are four 'new' pieces in one room... all gently used, of course, but new to him. All are conveniently located in his favorite room below his favorite windows. His poor little cat brain just couldn't handle that he wasn't allowed to sleep on the changing table or crib. I had to lock him out of the baby's room for that reason... well, that and the fact that he can't pass a horizontal surface without dropping fur in massive quantities.

This week I'll likely pack the 'just in case' bag since you never know how things are going to go until they're going or have gone. I don't really want to even think about the possibility of a hospital transfer during the birth because that means something went horribly wrong and all the interventions I'm avoiding by doing this at home will suddenly become a part of my reality in a sudden and unpleasant way. Not saying I won't go to a hospital if an emergency comes up... just that I am not exactly jazzed about that prospect. I don't do needles and scalpels very well, you know?

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34 weeks- November 22, 2009 (fb post)

Okay, we're officially into week 36 and people are telling me on a daily basis they don't think I'll make it to my due date. I'm pretty sure I will, but that's just me. Really, the only one who truly knows is the one doing the kicking and poking around there in my belly right now. That's the person holding the on switch. Next week we will be considered full-term by medical standards, and that's both exciting and nerve wracking. On the one side of the coin I am soooo ready to meet this child and move on into this new phase of existence... on the other side, I'm still trying to get caught up on housework and get adaptive measures in place to make baby-helping more accessible to my dear sweet and differently-abled husband. It's not like he's missing limbs or anything, but after having had surgery on his arm a few weeks ago he still can't lift with it and can barely grasp with it... back to square one with his physical abilities.

Along with putting adaptives in place for Barry, I am also working on the meal schedule for December. Usually that's mostly for my own sanity since I hate having to answer the same question over and over, "what are we having tonight?", and Barry gets tired of hearing "food or something food-like." Now it's also necessary because he's gotta know what to cook if I can't do it for us. The menu plan also helps us rein in the food budget by knowing exactly what ingredients we need for any given pay period's meals and ONLY buying those items... saves space too since we don't have lots of strange surplus items laying around the pantry because we 'might eat those sometime'. It's also cut down on our use of packaged foods (another money saving measure). The hardest part of making a meal schedule like this is that I know that at some point I will be taken out of the driver's seat and will have to rely on the one-armed man for meal prep, so I have to keep it simple and write down recipes in a man-friendly format... yet another part of the project that I haven't really spent time on... the writing of recipes. Everything that's been on the menu since August I've pretty much worked straight from memory.

I finished out week 36 with my first ever trip to a chiropractor. I don't think I'll be making an encore visit there. I do not make for a good pretzel, and the baby was equally unimpressed. Guess I'll just wait for all of this to sort itself out in the next few weeks. Until then, my bones still feel mismatched and out of place!

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December 7, 2009 (fb post)

Yesterday (12/5), my husband unveiled what he'd been working on while I was at work the last few weeks. Apparently, after his first attempt fell through, he kept at it and was bound and determined to have a baby shower for me... and he did it! I'm really proud of him, even though I didn't expect it. I'm also glad he didn't really include me in the planning process. It's better that I not participate in things like that right now- I'm already on mental overload, planning and logistics would be enough to make my head blow up... I get too emotionally wrapped into any project these days and one can only take so many meltdowns when things don't work as planned. Barry on the other hand does not have to deal internally with the same hormonal cocktail I do. He's the first guy I know who actually felt brave enough and comfortable enough to take on the ordinarily 'womanly' world of baby showers, even though he collaborated with his mom and one of my friends.

It felt good, especially when almost all of our friends from our small groups at church showed up- two even traded shifts at church (they were scheduled to serve that afternoon) to be there! The best part though of the event (aside from laughing so hard it hurt) was the closing, where one of my friends did a Blessingway tradition where we were all connected by a single piece of yarn (I still have my piece around my wrist, and likely will until the day our tiny passenger makes that magic trip down the canal and out into our world), and all the folks who were present gave their advice and well-wishes for Barry and I. This worked out especially well since it was co-ed... the guys were able to give their unique perspective on parenthood and how it changes a man's life. For me, I got awesome advice from two people- one from my local bestie who let me know that the post-partum period is something that no woman can really prepare for, and that you've got to be ready and willing to reach out and ask anyone and everyone for help when it gets tough, the other from a dear friend from church who reminded us both that no matter how well you plan, and whatever your intentions are at the beginning, don't take it as a personal failure if things go wrong in the birth, because even perfectly normal healthy births can have issues. Sometimes we focus so much on our plans, we forget about the real planner in the whole thing, that our Creator sometimes has other ideas.

The same night (only an hour after the shower), we went to the 1st Source Holiday Dinner Dance. The food was certainly... ummm... 'creative'. Dehydrated salad served with a side of ranch dressing with a skin on top- very appetizing. The salad was followed by a breaded chicken patty topped with cinnamon apple slices, raisins, cranberries, and other unidentifiable fruity stuff with a side of woody green beans and mashed potato goo with a tree-like sprig of parsley sticking out the top. At least dessert wasn't bad. Boston cream pie! The food was awful, but the people I sat with were hilarious and made it totally worth it to endure the food. We danced to one slow song (at which point we both realized how tired we were and decided one dance was good, time to head home) and had our first professional picture taken together. It was beautiful.

Of course, these are just the events of one day. Week 38 is pretty big for me. This is that point where I can honestly say it can happen at any time and mean it. Not that I'm seeing any signs of early labor yet, but I'm at the point where I'm relishing every discomfort from kicks and the body aches from the extra and unusual distribution of weight, because each day could be the last day that I get to feel these things and the last day that I get to enjoy the freedom to move about without having to worry about whether the baby can come with me where I need to go. Every kick still amazes me, even the painful ones. While I'm enjoying all of this I am also looking forward to labor. When I say that, people often look at me like I have two heads (well, technically I do, but one is internal and leaning against my pelvic bones at the moment...) because we all know what we've seen in the movies- that crisis moment where the woman is wheeled into the hospital, screaming obscenities and crying hysterically. I don't feel that it has to be that way. I could be wrong... but if it was really that freaking awful, do you really think as a species we'd still be reproducing? Yes, the act of procreating is enjoyable, but if the end of that process was really as traumatic and awful as Hollywood makes it look, not many of us would want to take one for the team and go through with it. I'm instead looking at it as a pathway to the next big adventure. I'm not really afraid of the discomfort- because that's all it is! Temporary discomfort in a process I was meant to complete. The whole process is beautiful, and as much as I have enjoyed the changes and challenges over the many many weeks, I am ready for the next phase to begin.

On the downside of this part of the adventure, I am pretty uncomfortable. As you'll probably notice if you look at the timestamp on this post, it's pretty late. I'm up late because I can't get into a good sleep position, and I know that once I do I will inevitably have to rock/wiggle myself to the edge of the bed, and in an act of near-Olympic strength hoist myself up to waddle the twenty feet from my side of the bed to the bathroom and back, just to do it all over again in a couple hours. I'm also starting to experience more Braxton Hicks contractions when I'm up moving around during the day. They're just warmups for the big show, but when I'm busy doing something and suddenly my entire abdomen seems to go into rigor, it makes it awful hard to breathe. My favorite place in the house on my more 'difficult' days is the bathtub, though it's harder to get in and out of each day. It's narrow, I'm not. A 2"x2" X of scar tissue marks the spot where my belly button was once pierced. Well, the hole is sorta still there as well, but not as visible as the pinkish scar tissue that has stretched out of it. I'm assuming it's how the hole affected the skin in that area... it just wasn't visible before there was six or more lbs of baby fluff packed in behind it. It's not pretty... nor are the lovely purple (and incredibly itchy) zebra marks which have magically blossomed in the last two weeks under my belly and across my butt (not like anyone really wanted to know, but then again, some of you are curious about this stuff for your futures and I feel like tossing it in there). I'm more emotional now- especially when I'm overtired and uncomfortable, or confronted with tasks that ordinarily I could knock out in a few minutes with minimal effort and now it seems nearly impossible to do with unlimited time. I'm also more irritable than usual... which highlights certain breaks in communication that occur within a relationship. This irritability also leads to a nearly superhuman ability to react to things physically, such as the day that someone cut my husband off in a parking lot. He flipped off the other driver, honked, and continued to swear loudly at the other driver (who was by this point behind us) until I punched him in his shoulder. I felt bad afterwards, but at that moment, it was self defense of sanity... I think.

The discomforts are otherwise pretty tolerable. The feeling is amazing when those two tiny feet under my right ribcage start running up and down.

So, I guess I should take a nap before I go to work if I'm going to be worth a damn at all later today.

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December 12, 2009 (fb post)

So, another uneventful work week has drawn to a close, it's now the wee hours of Saturday morning, and I'm sitting here mostly wide awake having just devoured two stalks of celery and avoiding getting comfortable because I just *know* once I get settled in comfortably, I'm going to have to get up to pee. My solution at the moment is simply to not get comfortable.

It hit me on the way to work Friday morning that I am now heading into week 39, and it's real. I have been watching in awe as women on my due date board online report and post pictures of their newborns... one day nearly six went... and until this week it really hasn't seemed like I was making any progress toward the end of this phase. Not saying I don't enjoy this phase... I've enjoyed being pregnant more than I ever thought possible. Actually, maybe abnormally so. Most of the women I know are so miserable by this point, especially the ones on my due date board who aren't even to their due dates yet and seem to be the most bitter and angry creatures on the face of the planet. As much as I've enjoyed it though, I'm so ready to meet this kid and start the next phase. The next phase also makes me uneasy because for eight weeks I'm going to be away from work... and work is my version of normal.

I am preparing for a planned absence from normal life that's not really plannable because, well, the star of the show can't and won't tell me exactly when that eject button is going to get pushed. (though I'd rest a bit easier if I knew for sure when it was going to happen, I'm not terribly comfortable with the unpredictability factor!) So, I started frantically going over my checklists again. House is ready for a birth to happen. There's no doubt, I have the supplies I need on hand, I have the phone numbers to call when it does happen. At home, I'm in good shape. At work on the other hand, I had a mini-panic attack when I sat down at my desk this morning and realized that any day now I could just not make it in... and won't be back to my desk for a good long time. I spent alot of today doublechecking my list of duties and procedures to make sure I've updated everything and made it easy for anyone to follow without me there to guide. I filed all my forms so no one has to search through my on-desk filing system. It was a frantic sort of day.

Other than that, I'm ready.

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December 14, 2009

Surprise! Week 39, he arrived peacefully in a pool at home. See the birth story post to continue the journey with us.