First Bath

Lovin' Every Second

Baby Break

I'm sure you've heard by now that our perfect little miss Charlotte was born this past Tuesday at 5:27am. She weighed 9lbs 4oz, and was born on my mom's birthday. I'll be taking a little break while I enjoy every new second of family time.

4 Days Over...

Just by chance, one of the blogs I read regularly (Dooce) had something to say on being an overdue pregnant woman that made me laugh. I don't feel quite as bad as what's written but I'm definitely convinced that I'm just destined to be pregnant forever and that there's not REALLY a baby in there.

I had to physically push all these negative thoughts out of my brain because people were sending me stories about women who had gone, like, 18 days past their due date. 18! OH MY GOD! Can you even believe that? Men, you don't understand this, but that number is just incomprehensible. Because once you go A SINGLE DAY past your due date you are suddenly unable to count past one. What comes after that number? Nothing, right? Because I can't go another day. I cannot walk, and my face is retaining so much water that I cannot lift it off this pillow, it is so heavy. Wait, two? There's a number two? TWO?! THEY NEVER TAUGHT ME THAT IN KINDERGARTEN, THOSE BITCHES!

And suddenly you think, that's it, I'm going to be pregnant forever. Ask any woman who has ever been pregnant and they will tell you that they have had that thought. And then followed that thought with a giant bowl of chocolate ice cream. And then some uncontrollable flatulence.

40+ weeks

I went to the doctor yesterday for the "now what do we do?" checkup. And of course the answer is "wait," but I still got some good info. She did an exam and determined that all signs are pointing in the right direction, so that's encouraging. She's still head down and most likely face down (for all the non-preggos out there, face down is what you want!).

I also apparently lost 2 pounds, which they said was normal, but I can't figure out where I lost it because it certainly didn't come from my hands or my feet. I literally can't even fit into my sneakers and my crocs, which I used to be able to wear with full wool socks (hot!) now require a little jamming to be wearable.

So basically we're hanging in there. My brother and B's best friend both call every day to see if there are any updates, which is adorable, but I think everyone else lost their patience this past weekend because the rest of the emails, texts, and Facebook messages have stopped. Apparently there was a collective feeling of "Eh, forget it. I'll just wait for the call."

B's best friend decided last night that the reason she isn't here is B's fault because he's spent his life as such a procrastinator and has passed that trait on, so she's thinking "Birth? Ehhhh... I can do that tomorrow." If that's true than karma's a bitch because she's killing her father with all of this uncertainty and waiting.

Celebrating the due date... Just not with a baby

So this past weekend B and I did something revolutionary. We DID SOMETHING. We went to a minor league baseball game. Are you not immediately getting the significance? I don't blame you. Your life has probably been infinitely more interesting than ours. Until two months ago we'd spent the last three years living in a small town that, while beautiful, had very very little to do. And we took advantage of all of the natural wonders it had to offer, but after a while you want to be engaged with something other than trees and water.

This was my first minor league game and it was a great first game since we were given front row seats on the first base line. Very reminiscent of when I lived in Boston and scored box seats on the third base line. I couldn't have been less deserving of the Red Sox tickets because I had never even watched a baseball game at that point. At least now I'm forced to watch nightly Yankee games so I've developed an understanding of the game and some of it's nuances.

Here's the Pregnant Wife Holds My Beer trick, which never gets old in our house. I told B that I would share the enjoyment if the cup contained scotch instead of beer and a long straw to reach my mouth. (Note to self: Google "pump and dump" after finishing this post.)




As it turned out our team got their asses handed to them, but that part was irrelevant. It's the benefit of going to a game where you don't care about either team - it's fun either way. And then it got really memorable when B's dad pulled out all of the fun and creative stops and snuck away to arrange for the Chopper Shopper (Price Chopper's funny little triangle mascot) to drag Bryan and I onto the field, give us a personalized baseball for the Baby Girl that said "Good Luck XXXXXX" (you don't get to know the name yet), and wave into the camera. It was awesome!! Then the Chopper Shopper took a picture with me and the baseball, which some Price Chopper guy emailed from his iPhone.



So, we may have been boring before, but now that we live in a bigger city, have the house set up, and have a little stability, we're very excited to get into the world again. Now if we could just do it as a family of three instead of two...