Okay, here I am.
39 weeks and 4 days pregnant.
I apologize for no regular updates during this time. (If you'd like a visual image: imagine a zitty, extra puffy giant marshmallow.) I also apologize for not getting back to some of you on Facebook, text message, phone calls, email, etc.
To be honest, I've been a little bombarded the last week or so... so I've had to put away almost all media devices.
So here's an interview with me:
Beware. This is a grumpy pregnant lady post.
So, Beth... have you had the baby yet?
No. I have not had the baby yet. But then again... I could have already had her and I've just been hiding her under the bed, refusing to tell anyone. The world may never know...
Are you feeling any pains?
Yes. I feel pains quite often. My back hurts, my belly hurts, my boobs hurt, my privates hurt, my head hurts, my feet hurt. I really could go on and on.
I mean contraction pains. Are you having any of those?
Yes. Quite frequently. They are real and they are time-able. I am apparently in what you call "early labor." Unfortunately, I am not dilating. This can be quite frustrating.
Which means?
That while I'm almost completely effaced, and the baby is super low - I could go at any time! Except that my cervix is apparently the equivalent of Fort Knox... or an old door that is rusted (almost) closed... or perhaps Hotel California.
Have you tried...
Why yes, I have tried many, many things.
Pretty much, you name it - we've tried it... Everything but Castor Oil and Evening Primrose Oil. I do not plan on using either. I have talked to FAR too many women that say that those are NOT 100% because it didn't work for them. I will be wise and learn from other's mistakes. I have come to the conclusion that NONE of them work. They may help it along from B to C, but they do not appear to get you from A to C.
Have you lost your plug?
Yes. Two weeks ago. It was disgusting.
Are you Nesting?
I've been cleaning for two weeks. I decided to give up already. Who cares if the house is messy?
Well, at least you have time to enjoy your sleep.
Bull Hockey. I sleep in 1.2 - 3 hour increments. Sometimes I wake up because of a contraction. Many, many times I wake up because I have a never ending supply of pee. After which, I cannot always just "fall back asleep." I have gotten quite good at solitaire. I really think having a baby would be better company though. You cannot cuddle with solitaire. You cannot cover solitaire with kisses. You cannot squish solitaire's fat little cheeks. Solitaire does not smell good. You cannot play dress up with Solitaire.
Well then, at least you can enjoy going out and being young with your husband!
You obviously do not know me or my husband. (You also must not know how it feels to be the size of a blimp.) We do enjoy spending time with each other. We also enjoy staying home and being lazy, couch-potato bums. We enjoy watching movies and TV shows like The Price is Right. We enjoy going to bed by 9 and waking up early - and taking naps in the middle of the day. WE ARE the old farts that most young couples strive to become. (And yes, we enjoy it.)
How'd the doctors appointment go?
I cried. A lot. My cervix hasn't changed ANY. Thus, I was not able to schedule an induction this week due to the fact that it could make my risk of a C-section go up. My blood pressure was up, up, up - so they sent me home with a 24 hour urine test. (BTW NOT FUN.) Prayerfully, I will be able to get an end-date by the end of the week. It's quite discouraging to not be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel anymore. Thankfully, everyone at my doctors office is quite nice and doesn't seem to mind if I cry like a crazy lunatic.
Any last thoughts for the morning:
Yes. I understand that I sound ungrateful. I promise that I am not. I love my baby and I want the very best for her. I promise, no one is more anxious or excited about the birth of my baby. I cannot wait to hold my baby - and to watch my husband hold and love our baby.
I've read lots of posts about women who love being 40 weeks pregnant - who wish that they could be pregnant forever. Plus, carrying your baby all the way to 40 weeks has SO many benefits for your baby.
To those women, I would like to say: Smoking weed is not suggested during pregnancy. (Or ever.)
So, go stuff a cookie in it (but not mine - go get your own.) and find someone else to whom you can spout insanities.
If anyone needs me, I'll be the crazy one in the corner crying, stuffing my face with unhealthy foods, and bouncing on the giant ball.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
A Bad Case of Crazy
Okay, so I've avoided writing any of this because I've been hiding and avoiding people like the plague.
... and secretly thinking that if I write this down I will jinx everything and slow it all down even more.
I really thought that I would be writing her birth story by now... not about how mental I've become.
It's quite a long and boring saga. For me, I feel like I've been living in some strange dream where I don't feel anything like myself and absolutely nothing makes sense.
Where to start... where to start?
I guess we'll start at the beginning... and when we get to the end... we'll stop.
WEDNESDAY:
Time for another Doctors appointment. I actually didn't take Ben with me to this one.
One: he was really busy at work.
Two: I ignorantly figured that if I didn't bring him along, we would get some good news and have to rush like crazy people to get our bags and get to the hospital.
I go through the normal process and check. The week before: 1cm and 75% effaced. This week: 90% effaced and STILL 1cm. I had made no progress dilating. I cannot describe how disappointed I was in that news. I cried all the way home. It didn't make sense! Though they weren't bad contractions, I was still having them... I had thought for sure I would have made SOME progress. I was so upset and nothing was making me happy, so I went to bed at 6:30.
THURSDAY:
The next morning, I was moody, tired, and suffering from a cry-hangover. Plus, while work hasn't changed, it's begun to take a toll on me. I just can't keep up with things like I used to any more. It's hard to be nice. It's hard to think straight.
I decided I needed coffee. Even one little cup would be able to help. I go to the back to make coffee... and the coffee pot is messed up. It's pouring out tar... and I haven't even put the grounds in yet. I'm ashamed to say that I got more than a little worked up over the coffee pot. I was so close to cussing, it wasn't funny. Plus, while I was standing at the bar trying to fix the coffee pot, I was having contractions.
I ended up leaving work to go to the gas station to buy a cup of coffee. (Which makes me feel bad because most people do not appreciate seeing a pregnant lady drinking a cup of caffeinated anything. Apparently it makes you a bad mom.) BUT I never made it in the store. I sat out in the parking lot talking and crying all over my mom for 20 minutes... and I couldn't stop crying. Blessedly, I really do have THE most understanding boss in the world. I went home for a couple of hours, drank some coffee, and decided to go lay down. Not long after that, I noticed that I was having pretty steady contractions. For the heck of it, I decided to start timing them. 10 minutes apart... then 7 minutes... then 5 minutes... I call the hubs and the doctor. The contractions keep moving closer together - by the time I call the doctor again, my contractions are 3-4 minutes apart and they aren't getting better with walking or drinking water. It's agreed that I come in ASAP. I let my boss know that I had accidentally lied, and that I would be going to the doctor instead of back to work. I call Ben and he books it home. We throw some clothes in a couple of bags, and put everything in the car. Ben was hilarious - I thought he was going to leave me at home for a minute there. He was fussing at me for moving too slowly. He was out the door, throwing bags in the trunk, and telling me to pull the door shut on my way out. As he put it: I really needed to hurry up and take this seriously - we could be having a baby!
I kept telling him I didn't want to get my hopes up, and that he shouldn't either. Plus, even if we were in labor, it could take a long time. To which he replied that the doctors said to come in when my contractions were five minutes apart - and we were closer than that - AND that he could be excited if he wanted to be. It was super cute to watch him. Like I tell him all the time: "Reminds me why I married you."
By the time we get to the doctors office, my contractions are still 3 minutes apart and I've been counting for over 3 hours. They take me back almost immediately and take us to get a Non-Stress Test. (Which by the way, is wonderful. You get to lay back in this huge, comfy recliner and watch TV - all while getting to listen to your baby's heartbeat.) I was having contractions, so they checked me again. Other than her head being really low, I had made NO progress since the day before. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nothing. Doc said it looked like early labor and that it could last a couple hours or a couple days before I have to come back in... or it could completely fizzle out. He gave me some instructions of what to look out for and asked the nurse to check my blood pressure again before I left. (It was a little high) By the time she came back in, I was crying all over Ben and I started crying all over her too. She was so sweet about it. Since my blood pressure was still high, the doc had me scheduled to come back in on Monday - if I didn't have the baby before then.
We left, and ate hot wings.
I was able to track my contractions at 3 minutes apart for another 3 hours.
Right before I would have gone to Labor and Delivery, they spaced out to 5 minutes. I was not about to have someone else tell me that I had made no progress, so I went to bed. Kind of pointless, because the contractions kept me up half the night.
FRIDAY:
I tell my boss I'm coming in to take care of payroll stuff, and then I head back home - where I sleep for a majority of the day. I don't really remember the rest of Friday. I'm sure it contained a lot of me trying all of the things that are supposed to put you in labor. (I'm an expert on them now - I should be able to tell you everything that DOESN'T work... which is pretty much all of it.)
SATURDAY:
I get up feeling FANTASTIC. Which, makes me feel even better because EVERYONE says the day before you go into labor you feel like your old self again. PLUS it was my day on the guessing roster... and Mother knows best, right?! Except that by 2pm... I hit a wall. I'm tired, and I realize that this baby is not going to make her appearance on the 12th. Plus, about every five minutes I was being asked if I was feeling any pains. I started feeling rushed. I started feeling like I should be able to do something to make this child decide to come out. Worst part though: Apparently, I'M the one holding us up. I'M the one who isn't dilating. Everything else appears to be all lined up. By this time, all of that - plus contractions were really starting to wear me down.
I'M TIRED.
I decide to give up. Thinking about the fact that it would be another 3+ weeks only made me sad. Maybe if I would stop trying to make her come out, it would help me be less stressed - which worked until I lost my mucus plug Saturday night. (Another one of those things that everyone says happened to them the day before they went into labor. Good luck not obsessing about it anymore.)
SUNDAY:
I skip church and spend the day as a recluse in the house. I thought for sure that today would be the day. I was home alone, and Ben had to drive to timbucktoo (sp?) to get a pony. He would be gone for HOURS. OF COURSE I WOULD GO INTO LABOR WHEN HE WOULD BE FAR AWAY, RIGHT?
Wrong.
I realize that there is no way that I'm going to be able to make it through the work week. As much as I didn't want to do it - I realized that I'm going to have to ask my boss for some time off. This decision did not come easily. I LOVE my job. I enjoy it. Not only that, but I ALWAYS show up. I haven't ever had a sick day. If I DID take a day off, it was usually on a Friday - with notice WELL in advance... and if I could, I would take some of my work with me. But I had been crying at least 2-3 times a day since Wednesday, I was horribly cranky (which would get worse if contractions kicked in, and it's kind of hard to explain that to people), anything could set me off... AND my brain seems to have lost almost all of its functioning.
I was still hoping that maybe I would go into labor that night and I wouldn't have to worry about it. (I even washed the bed sheets because I figured if I put fresh sheets on the bed my water would break.) In fact, my hopes got REALLY high during a trip to Wal-Mart when I rushed Ben out of the store because my contractions were getting strong enough that it was hard to talk through some of them. I even rushed past one of my old roommates and didn't say hi (Sorry Kayla!!) because I thought that these HAD to be what everyone was talking about - and if so, I needed to get home!
MONDAY:
At least 3 women have their babies over the weekend, not one of them was me. Out of the 35+ women that I knew that were pregnant and due close to me, I am one of 2 left. I'm starting to feel like the kid who always got picked last on the playground.
So, I go to work and I talk to my boss. (Again, he is amazingly understanding.) I work until 1:30 to try and finish up a few things, and then make my way to my doctors appointment. (I left Ben again. We scheduled the appointment without looking at his work schedule because we were sure that I would have the baby by now...)To be honest, I think that the nurses were as shocked as I was to see me waddle in there. We go through the usual. They ask if I've been having any contractions - I say yes, but I couldn't tell them how many because I gave up timing them days ago. I figured it was my best bet to start ignoring them. They send me back for another NST - which was amazingly relaxing. If I didn't have that little button to push, I would have seriously thought about going to sleep. (From what I was able to figure out from watching that little machine, I was having pretty good contractions. (I tried to focus on watching The View, but hey commercials happen.) One of the times I looked over there during a contraction, it was up in the 80's! (apparently it's a 1-100 type deal?) But baby was not a fan. It was funny to watch her kick those little button-thingys... and strange to listen how her heartbeat changed before and after a contraction. The nurse was impressed - and we were both hoping the doctor would tell me to hurry up and get my butt to the hospital.
I go back into one of the exam rooms, where I'm immediately embarrassed because I forgot to wear my socks. I mean, I had my toenails polished, but I had been wearing my croc flats and running around like a crazy person all day... and let me tell you - those shoes feel awesome for my preggo feet, but I could shame a teenage boy with how horrible my feet smell when I take them off. The doc comes and I apologize - he's hilarious about the whole thing and he's super fast with the check up (Which is a plus, because those checks don't hurt, but are not always comfortable.) Apparently, baby's head is REALLY low! And I'm ALMOST at 2cm. (I really thought for sure that I would at least be a 3... but I keep surprising myself.) Again, doc tells me what to look out for, and schedules me for next Monday.
I'm almost used to the disappointment.
Almost.
... and secretly thinking that if I write this down I will jinx everything and slow it all down even more.
I really thought that I would be writing her birth story by now... not about how mental I've become.
It's quite a long and boring saga. For me, I feel like I've been living in some strange dream where I don't feel anything like myself and absolutely nothing makes sense.
Where to start... where to start?
I guess we'll start at the beginning... and when we get to the end... we'll stop.
WEDNESDAY:
Time for another Doctors appointment. I actually didn't take Ben with me to this one.
One: he was really busy at work.
Two: I ignorantly figured that if I didn't bring him along, we would get some good news and have to rush like crazy people to get our bags and get to the hospital.
I go through the normal process and check. The week before: 1cm and 75% effaced. This week: 90% effaced and STILL 1cm. I had made no progress dilating. I cannot describe how disappointed I was in that news. I cried all the way home. It didn't make sense! Though they weren't bad contractions, I was still having them... I had thought for sure I would have made SOME progress. I was so upset and nothing was making me happy, so I went to bed at 6:30.
THURSDAY:
The next morning, I was moody, tired, and suffering from a cry-hangover. Plus, while work hasn't changed, it's begun to take a toll on me. I just can't keep up with things like I used to any more. It's hard to be nice. It's hard to think straight.
I decided I needed coffee. Even one little cup would be able to help. I go to the back to make coffee... and the coffee pot is messed up. It's pouring out tar... and I haven't even put the grounds in yet. I'm ashamed to say that I got more than a little worked up over the coffee pot. I was so close to cussing, it wasn't funny. Plus, while I was standing at the bar trying to fix the coffee pot, I was having contractions.
I ended up leaving work to go to the gas station to buy a cup of coffee. (Which makes me feel bad because most people do not appreciate seeing a pregnant lady drinking a cup of caffeinated anything. Apparently it makes you a bad mom.) BUT I never made it in the store. I sat out in the parking lot talking and crying all over my mom for 20 minutes... and I couldn't stop crying. Blessedly, I really do have THE most understanding boss in the world. I went home for a couple of hours, drank some coffee, and decided to go lay down. Not long after that, I noticed that I was having pretty steady contractions. For the heck of it, I decided to start timing them. 10 minutes apart... then 7 minutes... then 5 minutes... I call the hubs and the doctor. The contractions keep moving closer together - by the time I call the doctor again, my contractions are 3-4 minutes apart and they aren't getting better with walking or drinking water. It's agreed that I come in ASAP. I let my boss know that I had accidentally lied, and that I would be going to the doctor instead of back to work. I call Ben and he books it home. We throw some clothes in a couple of bags, and put everything in the car. Ben was hilarious - I thought he was going to leave me at home for a minute there. He was fussing at me for moving too slowly. He was out the door, throwing bags in the trunk, and telling me to pull the door shut on my way out. As he put it: I really needed to hurry up and take this seriously - we could be having a baby!
I kept telling him I didn't want to get my hopes up, and that he shouldn't either. Plus, even if we were in labor, it could take a long time. To which he replied that the doctors said to come in when my contractions were five minutes apart - and we were closer than that - AND that he could be excited if he wanted to be. It was super cute to watch him. Like I tell him all the time: "Reminds me why I married you."
By the time we get to the doctors office, my contractions are still 3 minutes apart and I've been counting for over 3 hours. They take me back almost immediately and take us to get a Non-Stress Test. (Which by the way, is wonderful. You get to lay back in this huge, comfy recliner and watch TV - all while getting to listen to your baby's heartbeat.) I was having contractions, so they checked me again. Other than her head being really low, I had made NO progress since the day before. None. Zip. Zilch. Zero. Nothing. Doc said it looked like early labor and that it could last a couple hours or a couple days before I have to come back in... or it could completely fizzle out. He gave me some instructions of what to look out for and asked the nurse to check my blood pressure again before I left. (It was a little high) By the time she came back in, I was crying all over Ben and I started crying all over her too. She was so sweet about it. Since my blood pressure was still high, the doc had me scheduled to come back in on Monday - if I didn't have the baby before then.
We left, and ate hot wings.
I was able to track my contractions at 3 minutes apart for another 3 hours.
Right before I would have gone to Labor and Delivery, they spaced out to 5 minutes. I was not about to have someone else tell me that I had made no progress, so I went to bed. Kind of pointless, because the contractions kept me up half the night.
FRIDAY:
I tell my boss I'm coming in to take care of payroll stuff, and then I head back home - where I sleep for a majority of the day. I don't really remember the rest of Friday. I'm sure it contained a lot of me trying all of the things that are supposed to put you in labor. (I'm an expert on them now - I should be able to tell you everything that DOESN'T work... which is pretty much all of it.)
SATURDAY:
I get up feeling FANTASTIC. Which, makes me feel even better because EVERYONE says the day before you go into labor you feel like your old self again. PLUS it was my day on the guessing roster... and Mother knows best, right?! Except that by 2pm... I hit a wall. I'm tired, and I realize that this baby is not going to make her appearance on the 12th. Plus, about every five minutes I was being asked if I was feeling any pains. I started feeling rushed. I started feeling like I should be able to do something to make this child decide to come out. Worst part though: Apparently, I'M the one holding us up. I'M the one who isn't dilating. Everything else appears to be all lined up. By this time, all of that - plus contractions were really starting to wear me down.
I'M TIRED.
I decide to give up. Thinking about the fact that it would be another 3+ weeks only made me sad. Maybe if I would stop trying to make her come out, it would help me be less stressed - which worked until I lost my mucus plug Saturday night. (Another one of those things that everyone says happened to them the day before they went into labor. Good luck not obsessing about it anymore.)
SUNDAY:
I skip church and spend the day as a recluse in the house. I thought for sure that today would be the day. I was home alone, and Ben had to drive to timbucktoo (sp?) to get a pony. He would be gone for HOURS. OF COURSE I WOULD GO INTO LABOR WHEN HE WOULD BE FAR AWAY, RIGHT?
Wrong.
I realize that there is no way that I'm going to be able to make it through the work week. As much as I didn't want to do it - I realized that I'm going to have to ask my boss for some time off. This decision did not come easily. I LOVE my job. I enjoy it. Not only that, but I ALWAYS show up. I haven't ever had a sick day. If I DID take a day off, it was usually on a Friday - with notice WELL in advance... and if I could, I would take some of my work with me. But I had been crying at least 2-3 times a day since Wednesday, I was horribly cranky (which would get worse if contractions kicked in, and it's kind of hard to explain that to people), anything could set me off... AND my brain seems to have lost almost all of its functioning.
I was still hoping that maybe I would go into labor that night and I wouldn't have to worry about it. (I even washed the bed sheets because I figured if I put fresh sheets on the bed my water would break.) In fact, my hopes got REALLY high during a trip to Wal-Mart when I rushed Ben out of the store because my contractions were getting strong enough that it was hard to talk through some of them. I even rushed past one of my old roommates and didn't say hi (Sorry Kayla!!) because I thought that these HAD to be what everyone was talking about - and if so, I needed to get home!
MONDAY:
At least 3 women have their babies over the weekend, not one of them was me. Out of the 35+ women that I knew that were pregnant and due close to me, I am one of 2 left. I'm starting to feel like the kid who always got picked last on the playground.
So, I go to work and I talk to my boss. (Again, he is amazingly understanding.) I work until 1:30 to try and finish up a few things, and then make my way to my doctors appointment. (I left Ben again. We scheduled the appointment without looking at his work schedule because we were sure that I would have the baby by now...)To be honest, I think that the nurses were as shocked as I was to see me waddle in there. We go through the usual. They ask if I've been having any contractions - I say yes, but I couldn't tell them how many because I gave up timing them days ago. I figured it was my best bet to start ignoring them. They send me back for another NST - which was amazingly relaxing. If I didn't have that little button to push, I would have seriously thought about going to sleep. (From what I was able to figure out from watching that little machine, I was having pretty good contractions. (I tried to focus on watching The View, but hey commercials happen.) One of the times I looked over there during a contraction, it was up in the 80's! (apparently it's a 1-100 type deal?) But baby was not a fan. It was funny to watch her kick those little button-thingys... and strange to listen how her heartbeat changed before and after a contraction. The nurse was impressed - and we were both hoping the doctor would tell me to hurry up and get my butt to the hospital.
I go back into one of the exam rooms, where I'm immediately embarrassed because I forgot to wear my socks. I mean, I had my toenails polished, but I had been wearing my croc flats and running around like a crazy person all day... and let me tell you - those shoes feel awesome for my preggo feet, but I could shame a teenage boy with how horrible my feet smell when I take them off. The doc comes and I apologize - he's hilarious about the whole thing and he's super fast with the check up (Which is a plus, because those checks don't hurt, but are not always comfortable.) Apparently, baby's head is REALLY low! And I'm ALMOST at 2cm. (I really thought for sure that I would at least be a 3... but I keep surprising myself.) Again, doc tells me what to look out for, and schedules me for next Monday.
I'm almost used to the disappointment.
Almost.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
I'm still here...
... and we're still waiting on baby.
I just can't bring myself to write everything about the last week or so down right now.
So, here's a video that seems to sum up my last two weeks.
And I definitely cried because I totally know how Mrs. Jumbo feels right now.
I just can't bring myself to write everything about the last week or so down right now.
So, here's a video that seems to sum up my last two weeks.
And I definitely cried because I totally know how Mrs. Jumbo feels right now.
Friday, October 11, 2013
Dear Baby
Hello Dear, it's your Mother.
I've been wanting to write this letter to you for quite some time. I just wanted to wait until we were a little closer to our due date. Well, I finally figured the heck with it. You could be coming out tonight - or you could be coming out next month. Plus, I'm wide awake at 12:30 at night... sitting on this durn ball. (I say "durn" in the most loving and endearing terms. This ball has been a gift from God - it has really helped me out these last couple of weeks.) What better time than to write you a little letter? (Go ahead and forgive the rambling. It's been a long time since I've written anything this late at night. It's been a long time since I've seen something other than the back of my eyelids this late at night!)
Heck, I'm not even sure how to write this or what I want to say.
Here goes nothing, kid.
We have had quite a journey together, no?
You started as just a big dream and a prayer... and now you're my squirmy little buddy that REALLY hates to be poked, prodded, or squished in any way. (Which, you've gotten so big at this point that we both are constantly poked, prodded, and squished. I don't think either of us are very comfortable right now. Your Daddy laughs and calls me "Waddles." Some ladies might get mad, but I think it's funny. Plus, say "waddles" a couple times in a row and you'll see what I mean.) I know that we haven't "officially" met, but I feel like I know you a little already... like we've been really weird pen pals.
Your Daddy and I have enjoyed watching you wiggle and squirm around in my belly. (Which by the way, you TO THIS DAY have refused to allow pretty much anyone else to see! Maybe it means you'll be well behaved in public - and save your wild and crazy antics for home? haha. Either way, it makes us feel a little special... like you like and trust us the most. Maybe it's because we're the only ones that call you by your name. [Totally great decision. We've enjoyed our little secret, but I know we probably won't be able to keep any brothers or sister's names secret since you might spill the beans.]) You love your Daddy's voice and when he rubs my belly. You seem to like Freeze Pops as much as your Daddy and Chocolate as much as I do. (You always get so squirmy - in a happy way.)
You're a great listener... and you seem to be sympathetic. All of these extra hormones have made me a little extra weepy - and a whole lot extra angry and aggressive. Some days when I'm sad, the way that you wiggle and roll around feels like you're trying to tell me "It's okay, Mommy." When I'm angry you have two different reactions - depending on the level of angry. Some times you're really, really still... and sometimes you get your mad wiggles on. (I can totally tell the difference in your happy and mad wiggles. I tell people that you can be a crabby baby at times. They laugh, but I mean it. I just think that you're a whole lot like your Daddy. Not that he's crabby, it's just the same things that appear to bother you are the things that he doesn't like either.)
I sing to you a lot. I'm rather bad at it. I don't sing you any nursery rhyme type songs... I just sing songs I would normally like and would sing. Which, I informed your Father that I was going to accidentally give you a complex because of it. Pretty much, you hear an awful lot of hymns, smoking-drinking-she-done-left-me songs, 80's-90's light rock, and Christmas songs. (I'm fairly sure that you're going to think that "Pretty Paper" is a lullaby. I don't know why I picked that one to sing to you the most, but I do. It chills us both out.) But that's okay, because the first song your Daddy played you was "Gangsta's Paradise." (And he sings C.C.R. to you regularly.)
On the bright side... you should be considered well-rounded when it comes to your music.
I wish you could see how excited your Daddy is... he's so funny. He's been impatiently waiting for you to finish "cooking." Now that we're full term... shoot, your Daddy doesn't even get this excited about Christmas. I'm going to have to beat him over the head just so I can hold you once you're born.
He's even got your "Loaferin'" clothes picked out for your Saturday morning breakfast and nose-around-town-drives. (Which, we have gotten very used to going to the Bantam Chef and eating French Toast every Saturday morning... I think the people at the Bantam Chef are looking forward to seeing you tag along for some, too.)
Lately he's been trying to figure out how he's going to wrap you up in the blanket with him so the two of you can watch TV and nap together. I told him that I would just have to come in and swaddle you both up - I'd just have to push the buttons on the remote control of y'all. (He seems to be all for that idea.)
(Note: One day, you're going to be all grown up, get married, and have babies. Make sure you find a man like your Daddy. Make sure that he's excited and as good to you as your Daddy has been to me. Believe me, I have been a booger - and the man has been a saint. I love your Daddy more every day and I don't know what I would have done without him.)
We've prayed for you so much. We understand how big of a gift you are - and we pray that we raise you up to be a God-fearing, kind, loving, and happy woman... and that we don't mess you up too terribly bad.
(I also hope you're durable... I fear the "George of the Jungle" scenarios that run through my mind.)
Our bags are all packed and by the door.
Your grandparents are all waiting by the phones.
We're just waiting on you and God to decide when to let us know your birth day.
Your Daddy and I cannot wait to hold you and shower your with hugs and kisses.
Can't wait to see you!
Love,
Mommy.
I've been wanting to write this letter to you for quite some time. I just wanted to wait until we were a little closer to our due date. Well, I finally figured the heck with it. You could be coming out tonight - or you could be coming out next month. Plus, I'm wide awake at 12:30 at night... sitting on this durn ball. (I say "durn" in the most loving and endearing terms. This ball has been a gift from God - it has really helped me out these last couple of weeks.) What better time than to write you a little letter? (Go ahead and forgive the rambling. It's been a long time since I've written anything this late at night. It's been a long time since I've seen something other than the back of my eyelids this late at night!)
Heck, I'm not even sure how to write this or what I want to say.
Here goes nothing, kid.
We have had quite a journey together, no?
You started as just a big dream and a prayer... and now you're my squirmy little buddy that REALLY hates to be poked, prodded, or squished in any way. (Which, you've gotten so big at this point that we both are constantly poked, prodded, and squished. I don't think either of us are very comfortable right now. Your Daddy laughs and calls me "Waddles." Some ladies might get mad, but I think it's funny. Plus, say "waddles" a couple times in a row and you'll see what I mean.) I know that we haven't "officially" met, but I feel like I know you a little already... like we've been really weird pen pals.
Your Daddy and I have enjoyed watching you wiggle and squirm around in my belly. (Which by the way, you TO THIS DAY have refused to allow pretty much anyone else to see! Maybe it means you'll be well behaved in public - and save your wild and crazy antics for home? haha. Either way, it makes us feel a little special... like you like and trust us the most. Maybe it's because we're the only ones that call you by your name. [Totally great decision. We've enjoyed our little secret, but I know we probably won't be able to keep any brothers or sister's names secret since you might spill the beans.]) You love your Daddy's voice and when he rubs my belly. You seem to like Freeze Pops as much as your Daddy and Chocolate as much as I do. (You always get so squirmy - in a happy way.)
You're a great listener... and you seem to be sympathetic. All of these extra hormones have made me a little extra weepy - and a whole lot extra angry and aggressive. Some days when I'm sad, the way that you wiggle and roll around feels like you're trying to tell me "It's okay, Mommy." When I'm angry you have two different reactions - depending on the level of angry. Some times you're really, really still... and sometimes you get your mad wiggles on. (I can totally tell the difference in your happy and mad wiggles. I tell people that you can be a crabby baby at times. They laugh, but I mean it. I just think that you're a whole lot like your Daddy. Not that he's crabby, it's just the same things that appear to bother you are the things that he doesn't like either.)
I sing to you a lot. I'm rather bad at it. I don't sing you any nursery rhyme type songs... I just sing songs I would normally like and would sing. Which, I informed your Father that I was going to accidentally give you a complex because of it. Pretty much, you hear an awful lot of hymns, smoking-drinking-she-done-left-me songs, 80's-90's light rock, and Christmas songs. (I'm fairly sure that you're going to think that "Pretty Paper" is a lullaby. I don't know why I picked that one to sing to you the most, but I do. It chills us both out.) But that's okay, because the first song your Daddy played you was "Gangsta's Paradise." (And he sings C.C.R. to you regularly.)
On the bright side... you should be considered well-rounded when it comes to your music.
I wish you could see how excited your Daddy is... he's so funny. He's been impatiently waiting for you to finish "cooking." Now that we're full term... shoot, your Daddy doesn't even get this excited about Christmas. I'm going to have to beat him over the head just so I can hold you once you're born.
He's even got your "Loaferin'" clothes picked out for your Saturday morning breakfast and nose-around-town-drives. (Which, we have gotten very used to going to the Bantam Chef and eating French Toast every Saturday morning... I think the people at the Bantam Chef are looking forward to seeing you tag along for some, too.)
Lately he's been trying to figure out how he's going to wrap you up in the blanket with him so the two of you can watch TV and nap together. I told him that I would just have to come in and swaddle you both up - I'd just have to push the buttons on the remote control of y'all. (He seems to be all for that idea.)
(Note: One day, you're going to be all grown up, get married, and have babies. Make sure you find a man like your Daddy. Make sure that he's excited and as good to you as your Daddy has been to me. Believe me, I have been a booger - and the man has been a saint. I love your Daddy more every day and I don't know what I would have done without him.)
We've prayed for you so much. We understand how big of a gift you are - and we pray that we raise you up to be a God-fearing, kind, loving, and happy woman... and that we don't mess you up too terribly bad.
(I also hope you're durable... I fear the "George of the Jungle" scenarios that run through my mind.)
Our bags are all packed and by the door.
Your grandparents are all waiting by the phones.
We're just waiting on you and God to decide when to let us know your birth day.
Your Daddy and I cannot wait to hold you and shower your with hugs and kisses.
Can't wait to see you!
Love,
Mommy.
Sunday, October 6, 2013
TERM
How Far Along? 37 weeks and 1 day. We are now officially Full Term! (Okay Baby... it's time to come out now!)
Baby Size: Eh, we're supposed to be around a watermelon.
Total Weight Gain: I went to the doctor on Wednesday and I haven't gained any since my last appointment. Did lose a couple of ounces though.
Maternity Clothes: I just try to find things that cover my belly. I personally don't think that the belly hanging out the bottom of a shirt is super attractive. I feel like I'm enough like a old man with a beer gut as it is... don't think I need to make matters worse. haha.
Stretch Marks: Yeah... but oh well. My husband still thinks I'm pretty.
Best moment this week: My doctors appointment. I also really enjoyed my foot massage on Friday. (Ben really does a great job. Heck, I might see about getting another one today.)
Miss Anything? We're just looking forward.
Movement: I thought that maybe she had dropped, but now I'm not sure??? Some of her movements hurt. I told Ben she's gone from Ninja baby to Sumo Wrestler child.
Food Cravings: I'm hungry, but I don't know what I want to eat.
Anything making you queasy or sick: Eating, apparently? The last couple of days I have felt sick after eating. Bleh.
Started to show yet? I don't really think I have to answer this question by now. I'm hoping most people have figured things out.
Gender: Girl!
Belly Button in or out? Out.
Wedding Rings on or off? Off. I try to change this daily, but I fear I'm fighting a losing battle. I just really hope they fit again after she's born.
Weird Pregnancy Stuff? Again, lately I'm not feeling too well in the belly department. I can't decide if I'm tired or not. I woke up this morning and I am beyond the normal amount of cranky... and weepy. I really want her to come out already - but I'm scared for her to come out too soon. But I really, really don't want her to stay in there much longer. Biggest thing I'm dealing with currently is that I have gotten it stuck in my head that she's coming soon and when I remember that I could very well be pregnant for another 3 weeks, I really want to cry. Ben and I have tried pretty much everything, but I'm still holding out on the castor-oil. It seems that none of it seems to be working. :(
Looking forward to: Holding my little baby.
Birth Date Guess? Okay, so this is new but Ben and I decided we would put in our official guesses.
My guess: The weekend of October 12th weighing in at 6lbs 8oz.
Ben's guess: October 28th weighing in at 7lbs 5oz.
Feel free to throw your guesses into the pot!
(I'm now really, really hoping that we're both wrong on the dates.)
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Doctors Visit
Okay, as usual... here's a quick run-down on our visit to the doctor.
(Which will be weekly now!)
Peed in a cup.
(Was told that I am NOT drinking enough fluids.)
Took my blood pressure.
(It was great.)
Stepped on the scale. I actually LOST a teeny-weeny-itsy-bitsy bit of weight!
(Which is totally strange because I've been eating us out of house and home.)
Got a shot or some sort of blood drawn.
(I was REALLY trying not to pay attention to this part since I really don't like needles.)
They took me back to an exam room and I had to get undressed.
I told the doc about those strange contractions.
They checked for Baby's heart beat. It was between 140-150 range.
(She's doing good!)
They did some sort of Strep B test. (? I think that's what it's called?)
(It wasn't long or painful.)
Then they checked me. Which made me kind of scared because I have heard that it hurts. Plus, they tell you that "You're going to feel a lot of pressure." Which is doctor speak for: "This is really, really going to hurt."
It didn't hurt though.
AND
Found out that I'm 1cm dilated and 75% effaced.
We asked the doc if she could make a guess as to how long we had left. She wouldn't make a guess, but said that everything was going great - and if I'm reading into things correctly, (and I'm pretty sure I am from something else I heard.) we could, but they do NOT expect us to make it to our October 26th due date. In fact, maybe it's a good thing I've had this weird sense of urgency to get all of my ducks in a row.
(But I'm trying really, really hard not to get my hopes up!)
Now, if only this whole "nesting" thing will kick in...
Let the baby watch begin!!
(Which will be weekly now!)
Peed in a cup.
(Was told that I am NOT drinking enough fluids.)
Took my blood pressure.
(It was great.)
Stepped on the scale. I actually LOST a teeny-weeny-itsy-bitsy bit of weight!
(Which is totally strange because I've been eating us out of house and home.)
Got a shot or some sort of blood drawn.
(I was REALLY trying not to pay attention to this part since I really don't like needles.)
They took me back to an exam room and I had to get undressed.
I told the doc about those strange contractions.
They checked for Baby's heart beat. It was between 140-150 range.
(She's doing good!)
They did some sort of Strep B test. (? I think that's what it's called?)
(It wasn't long or painful.)
Then they checked me. Which made me kind of scared because I have heard that it hurts. Plus, they tell you that "You're going to feel a lot of pressure." Which is doctor speak for: "This is really, really going to hurt."
It didn't hurt though.
AND
Found out that I'm 1cm dilated and 75% effaced.
We asked the doc if she could make a guess as to how long we had left. She wouldn't make a guess, but said that everything was going great - and if I'm reading into things correctly, (and I'm pretty sure I am from something else I heard.) we could, but they do NOT expect us to make it to our October 26th due date. In fact, maybe it's a good thing I've had this weird sense of urgency to get all of my ducks in a row.
(But I'm trying really, really hard not to get my hopes up!)
Now, if only this whole "nesting" thing will kick in...
Let the baby watch begin!!
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