"He's coming!"

My son was born a week ago today. It was both my longest and most exciting labors. He checked in at 8 lbs 11 oz, and 21.5 inches long. This makes him "large for gestational age" (born at 40 weeks, 1 day), so he had multiple blood pricks in his first 24 hours to make sure his blood sugar levels were appropriate. It should be noted that he is skinny, like all my babies, because he is ridiculously long to go with his "great" weight.

After approximately 8 hours of contractions (both my other labors could have fit in this time frame), some at home, and some at the hospital, we decided to break my waters so I could finish up.

As I stood to move to the hospital bed, my water spontaneously broke. I felt a huge pushing contraction, yelled "he's coming" and out came his head. (It sounds so simple. It was not.) In retrospect, I keep thinking it's miracle this happened when the midwife, nurse, and medical student were all in the room. I wonder if my husband realizes how close he was to having to catch the baby. But the midwife was there, and he (literally) caught the baby as I pushed the rest of him out. It was an intense two minutes. He emerged face first, thus the bruising in his first day photos. But, as we were deciding to break the waters, I turned to my husband and told him I was anxious to be done, but was scared about the pushing that still needed to happen. Then it finished so quickly, and that was a blessing.

They gave him to me, and labor was done. Now the real work begins.

***
Two postscripts:

A. I labor without drugs. But I labor with my husband's support, help, and presence. What I do would be impossible without him there. I'm so grateful for him. I'm sorry about his shoes though. As I continued to labor with an intact bag of waters, I kept worrying that they would break at an inopportune moment, and get my husband's shoes all wet. That fear was realized. (But the pushing fear was not, so I feel I got the better end of the deal.)

B. As the contractions kept coming, I often called up this picture in my head, of Babs after she had fallen asleep in my bed the night before the boy came:

Remember to be relaxed like Babs, I would remind myself. It helped a lot. (Not as much as  my husband helped me though.)

how to grow your three-year old

You can monumentally increase the size of your three-year old if you give her an infant sibling.

The boy showed up on Wednesday (his coming was interesting enough that every nurse had heard about it before they met us - are you excited to hear about too?). Babs had a fever (argh!), so didn't come to the hospital. She saw him first when we brought him home today. How small is he? How huge is she? The five-year old seems unchanged somehow, perhaps because in my mind, she wasn't still "the baby."

More details about him later. We're all doing well.

the question for the calendar

Every night as I go to bed, I look at the calendar and wonder when this baby will come. He's not late. My due date is still five days away, but I thought (hoped?) he'd come early, which he really hasn't. Now I'm just hoping he'll come soon. Perhaps right after my mom arrives tomorrow night...

Both my sister and sister-in-law who had babies in the last year had a scheduled birth, which right now seems really great. Except I want to schedule my naturally-starting/let-my-body-be-in-charge birth. I know you can't do both, so I stare at the calendar and wonder.

While I'm waiting, a brief update on the homefront:

Three weeks ago I took Kiddo to the store so we could buy some things for the baby. (Specifically a blue based bed sheet. This was really important to me. I have it now, but from a different store. They're washed, but not on the crib yet. Blegh.) While there, she saw an E-Z-bake toy, make your own cupcakes or something. She felt she couldn't live without it, and so I bought it for her, and she has been working on earning it ever since. Each day she has various chores, and it's been good and hard for both of us.

It's hard, because I have done much less that I wished in helping her learn how to help out around the house up to this point, so there is a lot of learning/teaching going on. Each of her chores requires work from me too. But it's good, because she's learned how to do things like "feed the vacuum", help more with the dishes, wipe down the bathroom counters, and of course, put away toys. But she has learned these things. And she's had the satisfaction of earning this toy, not just getting it. So I can live with yet another thing coming in our home.

I've also had the chance to tell her that not all chores are fun. Sometimes work is work. She is fond of telling me, one or two minutes into a chore, how overwhelmingly tired she is, and how she cannot continue. My responses are not terribly compassionate. Work is work is my basic answer. And if you want your reward, you do the work.

Yet you can't keep this child down. Within moments of complaining how she is too tired to lift another fork out of the dishwasher, you have to watch where you're stepping, because she is dancing back and forth between the dishwasher and where the fork goes, explaining that she is so happy she needs to dance.


Babs got one of her fevers last week. We spent the next few days with her in our bed at night, terribly sad during the day, and saying pathetic things like, "I can't, I've got a feber." I hoped that the baby would wait until she was better. (She's better, so he can come any time now.) She sings all day long, telling stories through song and playing through song. Kiddo does the same thing, sometimes they sing little duets. They are happy children, and I appreciate that.

I also met with the mothers who will be working with me to put together a little preschool for Babs and some other kids this fall. I can't actually believe I'm doing this, but I am grateful for other mothers who are willing to work with me on this. There are five little kids, but four moms, because there is a set of twins. I'm really grateful they're fraternal so it's easy to tell them apart.

Babs still loves her baby dolls, and has a line of them, in beds of various sorts, in her room where they spend a lot of time sleeping. Today we found another doll that had been packed away, and that was what she was truly grateful for in her prayers tonight.

The thing I am most grateful for right now is my diligent, good, helpful husband, who works, seemingly tirelessly, to continue to get us settled, to take care of the house and yard, to work, and to serve at home to a group of females who seem to need more of him every day. And he continues to give. Plus he teaches Sunbeams. I am so blessed. (In fact, right now, he's doling out cheese and crackers to the three-year old who took a nap today, so isn't as tired as we'd like her to be. Instead of watching TV, which is what his tired body and mind would really like to be doing.)

come back, my ankles

I've never had any swelling with my pregnancies, until this one. My feet are big, many of my shoes are tight, and my hands are wide too. They look like I've been hiking all day, but trust me, I have not. I know it is just the result of being very pregnant (two and a half weeks to go if he comes on time) in the summer, but I don't like it. I don't like that it's uncomfortable (as if the rest of me were feeling so great), and I don't like that there's not much I can do about it (except whine, I'm very good at whining).

In a good news/bad news moment, I'm very grateful that this summer has been exceptionally mild. I'm sure that's helped a lot. The bad news is it will finally be hot this next week. (Maybe I'll go check into a building where they believe in air conditioning, like a hospital.)

I dream of the day that my boy will be born, not because then I'll have him, but because then this crazy pregnancy will finally be over.

Here's me and my enormous belly. Maybe next Sunday I'll take a picture where you can actually see it.

boink!

My sweet little Babs is at an awkward height right now. Each time she runs to give me a hug, her head makes contact with my big belly and she basically bounces off.

Given her personality, I can't tell whether she's doing this on purpose or not.

Speaking of my big belly, since it is a recent addition (and soon-to-be subtraction) I have no body-sense of how much space it takes up. (I've taken to putting my hand on it when space is tight, because I have a sense of where my hand is, but none for where my belly is.) So in the evening I cook with an apron, so I don't accidentally burn it on the stove. I run into walls, doorways, and tables frequently. I remember this from previous pregnancies, and it's one of the more bizarre features of this time in my life.

But the boinking is new.

we're okay

Let's be honest. I'm exhausted. My husband is exhausted. And these two kids just keep moving merrily along in their life, with enough energy to make me wonder...

I'm now almost 7 months pregnant, and he is a mover. I failed my preliminary gestational diabetes test, and basically fretted for two weeks until I heard back about  my longer test (which made me sick, sick, sick), and know that I do not have gestational diabetes. I am so grateful. During the interim I had my second ultrasound (since I'm of advanced maternal age and all), in which I was offered undeniable proof that he is a boy. Maybe someday soon he'll have a different name than "baby brother." All this does make me less functional than I wish I could be. But, I am meeting my primary goals of feeding the children every day, and that's all I can ask for.

My husband is wishing that this move would actually end. Because of Memorial Day, our physical possessions should be removed by the end of the weekend, so then we can just clean, and be done. Did I mention we found some mold, actually quite a bit, as we moved out? We're grateful that's not our problem. My husband is an amazing worker, and just keeps getting this project done. (He's also primarily responsible for the unpacking on this end, so that's energy sapping too.)

Kiddo is, of course, doing great. She seems absolutely fine that preschool is done (possibly because this week has been very, very busy) and play wells with her little sister every day. I've signed her up for swimming lessons, which she loves. She gave the spiritual thought in primary last week, and did a fantastic job. She even added a portion of her talk from when we practiced (not really a surprise) so she could show the picture that she had drawn in Sacrament Meeting. She drew a picture of "Brave CTR girl. It's me." She wrote that entire caption herself (I probably helped her spell brave), including the apostrophe. I love that girl.

This week we did kindergarten orientation. Kiddo is ready to go, and loved her whole experience in the classroom. I am not. First off, I don't worry like other parents (and of course, that worries me). But my real concern, and this is serious, is Who will entertain my three-year old while Kiddo is at kindergarten next year? Babs and I don't have a together time routine. I guess we should, because Kiddo has been in preschool for a year, but we don't. Maybe she'll be really good with baby brother...

And Babs. She has thrown significantly less tantrums this week. But, she's also had a nap almost every day, which means she doesn't fall asleep until 9 or 10 (which may be driving her father crazy). Because of the very busy week we've had she's been primarily in pull-ups (oh, and she's still reluctant about the 2nd half of the process) and we have seriously backtracked in potty training. I am giving us this next (considerably quieter) week to get things back under control before I give up again.

She is also signed up for swimming lessons. The first week she participated, but looked mad and betrayed most of the lesson, and told me afterward how scary it was. The next week she refused to even enter the pool. I offered a lot of bribes, none of which enticed her. (That child won't be bribed. It's just something about her.) So the manager and I discussed our options. We then took the kids to family swim that weekend. By the end of an hour in the pool, Babs loved the water. And, week three of swimming lessons went fine. She still wasn't sure about all of it, but at the end told me how brave she was to participate, not how scared she was. Plus, she got her "dunkin donut" so that also helped. (That would be the bribe that didn't work until she was ready for it to work.) (And Kiddo, ever a good sport, gets the reward if Babs earns hers. Kiddo asked if she got a donut after swimming lessons, and I had to tell her it depended on Babs, because I'm just not mean enough to stop and get a donut for one kid and leave the other kid out, especially when the first kid doesn't need an enticement to go spend 30 minutes in the pool.)

And Babs wears a silly hat (sometimes). You can see it in the picture above. My ever wise husband got it off before church by insisting that we don't wear hats when we pray. She is a funny little girl, with a real sense of humor, and uses it a lot. Which is good. We need to laugh.

thoughts at the end of the week

I had surgery on my eyelid this week to remove three chilazions (kind of like little cysts). It was pretty miserable, but not as miserable as the last time I tried this procedure. On the plus side, it seems to actually be working this time. I will be so excited in another week when both my eyelids are flat, smooth, and lump free. And, something about the surgery experience woke my boy up. He has been kicking up a storm, and much more expressive about everything since that day. It is nice to never worry how he's doing, but if he were kicking from the outside, I'd have a seriously bruised abdomen.

Grandma is here! She has allowed me to largely check out of the mothering business for three or four days while I try to rest my eye, and rest my soul for the craziness of our future (packing our house, closing on the new house, and moving... ).

Grandma's visit also allowed my husband and I to have a real date. We went to the temple, then a used book sale (it takes a special love of books to think you should buy a box of books just weeks before you move), then lunch. Apparently Babs pretty much fell apart while we were gone, but we are all friends again, and I loved being out with him (as always).

The day after my surgery, Kiddo came downstairs to wake me up in the morning. She was completely dressed and seemed ready for the day. She told me, "Since your eye is hurt, I'll take care of Babs today." It didn't quite work out that way, but her sincerity and desire touched my heart. I'm grateful for her kind spirit and helpful heart.

Grandma brought a T-ball set for Babs as a visiting present (Kiddo got a set of binoculars). Babs loves it. She talks about "playing with my set" and enjoys the sanctioned whacking. She prefers to whack with her golf clubs rather than her bat though - I suppose we need some tutorials soon.

thoughts at the end of the week

We appear to have bought a house. We're in the middle stage between an accepted offer (and an acceptable house inspection) and actually closing. We're also waiting to hear back on the appraisal and get our loan approved. Buying a house involves a ridiculous amount of money. And although I believe that all will work out, I'm still hesitant. (Although I'll need to start packing soon, because that takes some serious time.) The house meets our list: it goes to good schools (and we can walk to the elementary school), it's got biggish bedrooms, a great backyard, and just feels nice. At this point, I just really want it to work out.

I'm having surgery to remove some chilazions from my eyelids next week. Although I carefully planned it all so my mother-in-law could be here to help me and my children during the process, the surgery was moved two days earlier, so instead I've had to find a lot of help with my kids until she comes. Of course this is all happening in a week when my husband has reduced flexibility at work.

Kiddo really wants to name our baby "Fred." I need to find his real name soon so that I will no longer be swayed to let my five-year old name my child with a name I don't really like.

Babs, who has more name derivatives than you can imagine, is currently insisting on correcting any one who calls her by less than her full name. It will be interesting to see how this plays out.

Potty training is wearing me out. But, she's really doing a good job with the yellow, so I am grateful for that blessing. I have so many blessings in my life. I could be better about showing and feeling gratitude.

shaking the baby

I'm not convinced that the transition of adding a baby will be a smooth one in Babs' life. She has always been rather exclusive about her attention from me (boxing out Kiddo from a double hug or lap sitting from fairly early on), and is suspicious of all children smaller than her. One of her first interactions with our new baby was hitting my belly.

"Don't hit momma." I reprimanded. She looked up at me with her two-year old guileless (and impish) face and replied "I not hitting momma; I hitting the baby!"

So, with this history, I was more than a little concerned to hear her joyfully singing this morning, "We shaking the baby now!"

Until I recognized the tune, and remembered we listened to a kid's version of La Bamba this morning. I'll need to help her learn the correct words soon.

thoughts at the end of the week

Last Saturday I attended a consignment sale hosted by some moms at the preschool Kiddo attends. I figured it was time to actually buy an outfit for a boy. I managed to find some things I thought were cute, for very cheap, and came home pleased with my purchases. When I took them out to show my husband, I realized I only thought they were cute because they were compared to really ugly boy clothes. (I'm sure they'll look better on my little boy.) I lacked my usual excitement to show new baby clothes to my husband. I don't like little boy clothes, at least not in comparison with baby girls clothes. I am sad I don't get to buy little girl clothes, or at least revisit them this time. My consolation is that I have a lot less I'll have to teach him about modesty. (I'm also trying to determine if I can put this little boy in my carefully chosen gender neutral clothes from Kiddo and Babs' time. Even if the colors are not pink, won't I still associate them with girls?)

At said consignment sale, I also bought a small chalkboard and felt board easel. I envisioned it being for Kiddo, but Babs is the one that colors on it every day. She especially loves the red chalk. I still need to find some felt activities to make the other side more interesting.

Last week we visited my aunt who lives in Virginia. I love to visit her because I do. My kids love to visit her because they adore her doll house, which happened to be out of commission this visit. That was a hard thing to understand. But I saw her vision for her basement, and they will really love it next time.

Almost every day this week one or both of our girls has wandered down to our room, after we thought they were settled and asleep. Babs accompanies her appearance in our room with "I had trouble falling asleep." I know she is getting less sleep that she used to get. I am very concerned that it will catch up with her soon, and she will get a fever. But, so far, she is just a little extra crazy in the afternoon and evening.

Today Babs looked at Kiddo and said "Kiddo's a little hiv-ing." It is an apt description because Kiddo is red and blotchy all over. As I looked at her rash/hives, I asked my husband (who wonderfully stayed home today so she and I could have minimal contact while she finishes being contagious) "How do we know if it's her illness, or a reaction to her medicine?"

A friend at church is pregnant, and due just a few days after me. Like me, she already has two little girls. She seriously wanted a boy. Although my husband and I were mostly neutral, we were thinking it was a girl. And now that we've both had our mid-term pregnancy, I'm having a boy, and she's having a girl. I find this amusing.

thoughts at the end of the week

This was my week to sign Babs up for preschool next year. But I chose not to. I feel like she needs some different arrangement than formal preschool this next year (she can do a formal one the year before kindergarten). I'm not clear what that arrangement will be, but I have plenty of time to think about it, and hope I can figure out what she does need.

One of my really good friends from NJ came into town last night for a wedding, so I got to spend some time with her. It was so great to talk and talk and talk. Plus, I need to buy make-up for Kiddo's ballet pictures (then recital in a few months), and she knows all about make-up! So she helped me pick out what I needed. It was an an incredible blessing.

At the end of the ultrasound, the tech announced to us that our boy weighs 11 oz. The thought I can't get out of my head since then is that he has a lot of weight to put on in the next 20ish weeks, and that's going to really expand me fast. The other main result of our visit is that we now need boys clothes, and a boy name. We've never even considered boys names, but it's clear to me that I'm picky about names.

I finally put on some maternity pants today - jeans to be specific. I feel much less like a slob than I have for the last two months as I've worn extra baggy sweats. (Perhaps my new sweatshirt is helping too.)

On Wednesday, winter storm Saturn blew through. I know it did a lot of damage in a lot of places, but once again, it passed us by with hardly any impact. But, it was a snow day for both my husband and my daughter, so we got to spend the whole day as a family together, with no place to go. It's really nice to have extra time together. We were supposed to make cookies at some point, but it didn't happen. Instead I made cookies with Kiddo yesterday. Chocolate chips, just like she asked. Except we had no chocolate chips. But the batter was good enough that we cooked some of without the chips. We'll finish them up today.

well that was unexpected

I called today to schedule the anatomy ultrasound for this new baby. They had a cancellation today, so I took it. With just enough to time to dress my children, and drop them off at a good friends' house (you know, the kind of good where you can call her up, and drop your kids off at her house five minutes later), I headed to the office. Oh, there was also enough time to call my husband, and make sure he could come too. We met at the hospital where the procedure was done.

So on the big screen, we watched the baby's heart beat, saw two hemispheres of the brain (my favorite part), and counted fingers and toes (20 total I'm happy to report). Near the end she showed us a shot of the baby, and showed us the umbilical cord, and suggested that it had been hard to get a good look...

"But I know what you're having..." she continued in a sing-song voice. Then she showed us our boy.

I think she wanted us to start cheering, or get excited, but that's not our way (we are pretty private people after all). Plus, we were surprised. We hadn't really considered a boy, I mean, we gave the idea lip service "of course we'll be happy with whatever we have" when people asked if we were hoping this one would be a boy. But we expected a girl. Yet that's not what we're having.

Kiddo is thrilled about her new brother. And since Babs takes most of her cues from Kiddo she's pretty excited too.

survival instinct

I ended up having both girls with me as I visited the midwife last Friday. Luckily, Kiddo is always a sucker for new toys and books, so was thrilled with the box of toys aimed at one-year olds. And Babs is always with me, so that also wasn't such a big deal. (Providing a urine sample was more interesting than I hoped though.)

At the end of the visit, after discussing my various concerns (nothing out of the ordinary for an "elderly multigravida"), we listened to the heartbeat.

A strong beat sounded the moment she pressed the little instrument on my belly, then almost immediately disappeared.

"Third child," I explained. "It already knows that if there's any pressure there, it's time to retreat to the back."

We heard him/her moving around quite a bit, kicking a few times, and eventually got the heart beat back, briefly.

***

I have started feeling it, occasion gentle pokes from the inside (after all, it's only about 5 inches tall). I had forgotten the problem with early movement though - it makes me feel extra sick to my stomach.

like you didn't know when we bought the minivan

Kiddo was pretending to be a mom a few days ago, and was taking care of her charges. At one point she says, "I'm sorry, I can't do much. Moms who are pregnant can't do very much." She's right. And she should know because her mom is pregnant.

After weeks of heavy napping and serious sickness, I finally told the kids why their sometimes-fun mom had become a seriously not-fun mom. In the ensuing weeks since breaking the news to them, I have not become any more fun. Although I have fed them, at least three times a day, every day (except when there was someone else to feed them). Except my super-star husband has been making dinner for the last two months. So I guess I've only fed them at least twice a day. But they are fed. And clothed. So there's that.

I am starting to show. Not enough to make it obvious that I'm pregnant, just enough to make me feel fat, and make sure none of my clothes fit. This baby makes its entrance in late July.

Babs asks me at least once a day "You have a baby in your tummy?" She often follows this up with "what's its name?" I tell her we don't know the baby's name, or even whether it is a boy or girl. But fret not, because "when the baby cracks open" (a technically inaccurate, but disturbing, description) it will tell her its name.

(Kiddo has "always wanted a brother." Babs has "always wanted a sister." My husband and I want someone to wear the boatloads of clothes we have out in the shed, but would be happy to learn new skills as well.)