Rationalizations

Weeks on bed rest: 7+
Days over due date: 1


Saturday, Feb 4th - He didn't come today because he has a sense of humor and wants to torture his dad by arriving on Super Bowl Sunday. He's funny.

Sunday, Feb 5th - He didn't come today because he's considerate and didn't want to interrupt Super Bowl Sunday. He's polite.

Monday, Feb 6th - He didn't come today because he wants to be like his cousin and arrive exactly one day before his due date. He appreciates family connections.

Tuesday, Feb 7th - He didn't come today because tomorrow is his official due date and it would be very rare to arrive on your exact due date. He's an individual.

Wednesday, Feb 8th - He didn't come today because he wants to share his birthday with one of his grandmothers, like Charlotte does, and nothing would be cooler than that. He enjoys symmetry.



  

Goodbye bed rest

I'm taking a wildly optimistic stab in the dark and am going to assume that the unborn child has put the pieces together that I'm over 39 weeks and that his father has the next several days off of work and will grace us with his presence soon.

At the very least, even if the previous assumption is wrong, it's safe to say that while hovering around and (God forbid) past my due date next week, I'll either be too lazy or cranky to blog. Hence, one last blog post before The Berry Patch goes from three to four Berrys.

I'm happy to report that the challenges of last week subsided and life this week returned to normal. Charlotte has been almost unusually well behaved and happy and has also taken to mothering her brother even though he's not technically here yet.

After her bath yesterday she said that her brother needed some lotion too and then rubbed lotion on my belly. Then she decided that he also needed some snacks and lined up Crispex on my belly. She's also taken to walking by and spontaneously hugging my belly while closing her eyes and laying her head on it. I'd like to take all of this as signs of child psychic abilities and that she knows something about his impending arrival that we don't. After all, she's the one who told us that he was a boy right from the start, so it's not totally off base.

I was thinking about our little Adventures in Bed Rest around here and realized that like any challenging situation that's not an actual tragedy, it could absolutely been seen as a blessing in disguise.

For a lot of reasons that are partly due to upbringing and partly due to my inherent personality, I'm terrible at asking for help. It's not that I have too much pride or am too embarrassed, it just always seems a little like a waste of time and like a burden on other people. If I technically CAN do something, why wouldn't I? Why would I ask someone else to change their schedule or pitch in when there's really no urgent need for them to do so? It's just never made sense to me.

But this time, despite my internal resistance that I would probably be fine and probably wouldn't end up in the ER again, I had to decide that it obviously wasn't worth the risk and dive in and line up help. And believe me, it felt wildly indulgent to have someone watch Charlotte while I was home watching television or browsing Pinterest. Do you know what actual alone time feels like to a stay at home mom? To someone who hasn't peed or done errands alone in two-and-a-half years? It's bizarre... and awesome. It feels like what it must feel to be a wealthier parent, someone who can regularly pay to set it up so that you're only with your kid half time - way easier.

But after a while it felt less indulgent and kind of nice. And then I realized that my unwritten criteria of "ask for help only when your ship is sinking" might have been a little stringent. That maybe some people ask for help when nothing at all is wrong and they just want to make their life a little easier. It's still a concept I'm digesting because we all know of the indulgent, coddled cry babies of the world who seem to take advantage of people.

But as I come out of this three years of new parenthood and grad school and financial stress... and as I see the light at the end of the tunnel, I can also see that life doesn't have to be quite as hard as we can make it. And I think the forced bed rest came at the perfect time to make me start to see that.


  

Seriously?

You know those really bizarre Fun Houses that you see in movies from time to time? The ones that you've never actually seen in real life, but have meandering hallways and wavy mirrors and small children with butcher knives hiding in the corners. The kind they use in movies where a character is hallucinating and it's meant to convey to you that he's HIGH. HIGH! THE DRUGS ARE BAD! THEY'VE BEEN SPIKED.

The Berrys are feeling like that this week. And this is big for me to say because I'm an inherent non-complainer about my life. I have gratitude and perspective and resilience. I've never used the acronym FML and none of my Facebook posts have ever complained about how my Starbucks order got screwed up and now my whole morning has gone to shit. Everyone in my family is healthy and here to enjoy. So, big picture, I'm still quite blessed. Small picture.... small picture is kicking our ASSES.

So there's already the partial bed rest that essentially turned into full bed rest because my body couldn't handle any more. And then there have been the weekly additions to the bed rest - now you have to increase your salt intake to keep your blood pressure up, now you need to shower using a granny stool, now you're only allowed to shower twice a week, now your fat ass is causing episodes of sleep apnea, now you need to start stretching your legs in the morning because pregnant people have problems with minerals and that's what causing the terrible cramping...

But STILL I've been rockin it. I had a little talk with myself early into the bed rest about how to every thing there is a season. A time to be hot and skinny and feel awesome and a time to lie low and sit on your couch in the middle of winter and just grow your child. And Husband Extraordinaire seemed to be rockin' it too. He was cleaning the house every weekend to make up for the previous week when nothing got cleaned, he was doing one small chore each morning before work to keep us in towels and bowls, and we weren't even ordering out.

Additionally, I kept noticing all of these wonderful little instances where things were just working out. Someone who thought they wouldn't be able to babysit suddenly could, the doctor's appointment lined up exactly with B's work schedule, etc, etc. See, I said to myself. What a beautiful example of life and karma just rising to the occasion. You were handed a setback, but it takes a village and all the villagers are coming together. 

ROCKIN' IT. Suck it, bed rest.

But then last Thursday hit and things started to slide down the hill faster and faster and now it's just getting comical around here.

B started his last semester of grad school last week and came home from his first class a little ashen. In addition to some major drama with the structure of the class that's already resulted in letters to his Dean, he came home proclaiming that the work load for this last semester was going to be unlike anything he's seen in the previous 2 1/2 years.

He spent the FIRST DAY after his FIRST CLASS at the library. And then he went back again two days later. He has FOUR projects due next week so I anticipate seeing him only for breakfast and his 8pm beer this weekend.

Then Charlotte got sick. Like, crazy, out of her mind, sick. Almost sicker than she's ever been. Fever, chest cold, coughing, mucus, no sleep, etc. All the mucus and coughing culminated in her puking in our bed at midnight - us spending 45 minutes cleaning up her and the bed - and then her doing it again five minutes after returning to our bed. Thankfully B has some serious cat-like reflexes and CAUGHT IT. Yup, welcome to fatherhood.

Then the beginning of the week rolled around and I started to get a wee bit sick and things started to go a wee bit haywire at B's work. Then Tuesday and Wednesday hit and all of the projects and conferences and drama B was starting to deal with at work really exploded, simultaneously with my "wee bit sick" turning into Is this the sickest I'VE ever been??

So Charlotte wasn't better, work wasn't better, and my is-it-pnemonia chest cold made me pee myself. Let me just wait while you let that sink in...

...

...

Oh, are you picturing some cough-induced drips? Please don't. Please envision a potty training toddler who has forgotten that they have to pee and has caused a visible problem on the hardwood.

Let's add up what went wrong. First, I've been instructed to drink 3 liters of water a day to help with my blood pressure. Also, I'm full term and I challenge you to find the sorry sliver that is my bladder on this medical diagram. Now I'd like you to picture a cough so spontaneous and violent it's like you're actually drowning in your own fluids. Mucus waterboarding. Without warning, even though you have half a bottle of doctor-approved cough medicine in you.

So Much Pee. Twice. It happened twice.

And now if you aren't WAILING with laughter at my own absurd piss situation than you need to find a different blog. Because if this misery can't get a little company in the form of huge fits of laughter than we aren't seeing eye to eye.

Feel free to tell your friends. Have them call me to retell the story in person. It's the most insane zenith of our week that I can't even bring myself to be embarrassed because it's just that dumb. Pregnancy is a miracle.

Also, our vacuum broke for good this afternoon. I peed myself and the vacuum shit itself. It's poetic, really.



  

Checking In

I'm checking in out of pure guilt and blog obligation, but I should start by saying that I really have nothing interesting to report. You'd think that all of the hours on the couch would yield a multitude of blog posts, but clearly this hasn't been the case. Apparently when you do nothing with your days you have nothing to write about. Not a surprising conclusion.

The Berry clan is surviving bed rest surprisingly well so far. Mr. B does a LOT of chores, sometimes both before and after work, Charlotte has had a stream of various cousins and babysitters come visit her on Tuesday and Wednesday mornings to keep her busy, I no longer fit into anything but pj pants and leggings, and Baby Boy still doesn't have a name.

We're circling a few names out of a pure sense of responsibility that he should probably have one at SOME point, but in the end we'll probably just go with whatever feels right once he's here.

B starts his last semester of his 3 year MBA program this week. We started his first semester a few weeks after Charlotte was born, so it's appropriate that we'll start the last semester within a few weeks of Baby #2's birth. I can't believe we're really been doing this for so long, but everyone is ready for it to be over.

I say "we" because the one thing that grad school has taught me is that it's a team effort. I didn't realize that before, but they should hand out spouse degrees on that stage as well. Anyone who has been through this can attest to that fact.

So that's it, friends. Thank you for continuing to visit the blog even though I've been so remiss on the updating. I really do try to think of things to write about, it just rarely works.  Three weeks to the due date...



  

Bed rest survival guide

OK, the ducks are officially in their row. If all goes as planned I won't have Charlotte for any full days until  Baby No Name arrives. Between school (black), cousin help (red), B having every other Friday off (green), and a babysitter filling in on the Fridays he works (blue), plus the weekly cleaning lady to help reduce the burden, I think we're set.

It'll be a little trickier once the spring semester (his last) starts, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now that the calendar is set and the tree is down, we're turning our attention to finding a name for the wee one. It will be a miracle if he has one by the time I go into labor.



  

Bed rest

So, I'm on partial bed rest for the rest of the pregnancy (7 weeks). And I've told the story so many times, to EMTs and ER nurses and ER docs and specialists and friends and family members, that I've lost the ability to tell it with any interest or flair. FLAIR!

Basically what happened is this... I was in the shower with Charlotte when I started to pass out. I immediately sat down and crawled out of the bathroom thinking it was just the heat of the room. My OB had said that when you're pregnant your blood pressure can drop suddenly (and often for no reason), leading to fainting and near-fainting.

I also thought that maybe it was a blood sugar thing since I hadn't eaten second breakfast yet. First breakfast occurs at 6:30am and is always a bowl of cereal, second breakfast occurs a few hours later and usually has protein.

But then my heart started beating fast. And I don't mean work-out-at-the-gym fast, I mean out-running-a-serial-killer-fast. Like faster than I knew it was medically possible for a heart to beat. So fast and violent that I could actually SEE my chest moving and couldn't even count the beats.

At first I thought it was a fluke and some kind of body-correction from almost passing out, so I waited a few minutes. Then I thought I was crazy and just needed to take some deep breaths and slow everything down. Then I thought that I should help the blood sugar issue and get some string cheese.

But after I went downstairs to get the cheese and came back to the bathroom (Charlotte was still in the tub) to try to eat the cheese, I immediately felt sick and started hyperventilating.

This was what I couldn't figure out: I knew at needed to go to the ER. The neighbors weren't home, all friends and family were 15 minutes away, and there's no way Charlotte would have let a huge paramedic pull her naked from a tub and get her dressed. Also, the front door was bolted shut and I knew I wouldn't be able to get down the two sets of stairs to unlock the door for them without passing out with a child in the tub.  Do I call B? Do I call 911? Do I call B? Do I call 911? Do I call B? Do I call 911?....

So I called B and whisper told him (b/c I couldn't breathe) that I was having an emergency and needed to go to the ER. Then I prayed to god that he wouldn't kill himself or someone else on what I knew would be THE most ridiculous drive home in history. I half expected him to pull in the driveway with most of the police department trailing him.

So I waited. And it only got worse. I was on the floor of the bathroom and felt like I was going to pass out again (not a reassuring feeling when you're ALREADY sitting down) and I thought so help me god I can NOT pass out with this child in the bathtub, I will WILL my heart not to make my brain it's bitch and lose consciousness. So I picked a spot on the wall and tried to will myself to stay awake.

B came home, saw what was happening (panting wife, child in the tub) and called 911. Luckily we live four blocks from the hospital and could hear the sirens about six seconds after he hung up.

Two fire trucks, one ambulance, nine people, and a few monitors later and they told me that my heartbeat was over 180bpm (MORE than 3 beats per second, in case you're counting). They actually said "WHOA!" when they hooked me up. And the crazy part was that that wasn't even my peak, it had started to settle quite a bit by the time they got there.

And then, when everyone was in our living room (and trailing down the stairs because not everyone could actually FIT in the living room) the episode broke, 40 min after it started.

So I got an ambulance ride, spent the day in the ER and the night in the hospital, talked to a cardiologist and my OBGYN and came out the other side on partial bed rest.

The cardiologist thinks it was all pregnancy related and was just a perfect storm of a warm room, dehydration, low blood sugar, a very low baby who's pushing on all the good things in your legs that return blood to your heart (veins? arteries? capillaries? plastic tubes?), and bad luck.

The OB isn't convinced it was pregnancy related since it went on for so long. But either way, it doesn't matter. They were on the same page with recommendations: Drink 3 liters of water a day instead of the 2 I had been drinking (water keeps your blood pressure up), and sit my ass on the couch for the next 7 weeks. No cleaning, no cooking, no going out to stores, very little activity, and no driving, and hope it never happens again.

You can imagine that these orders would be a little difficult for someone with a toddler at home, but with the help of family, our amazing neighbors, and some paid help, I think we've cobbled together enough people so that I won't ever have Charlotte for a whole day to myself, only half days.

And for the half days, we'll set the living room up to be blocked off, hold more toys and diapers, and keep the Disney Channel and Nick, Jr. in business. We don't have all the logistics worked out, but we're getting there.

In the meantime, I present Scenes From A Hospital...

The 13 heart monitors I pulled off my chest and stomach. Every step (EMTs, ER, OBGYN) meant that more got added and none every got removed.

Water tracking chart

Jewelry souvenir

   

Housekeeping

Is there anyone who reads this blog who I'm not either actual friends with or Facebook friends with? If so, cue the now anti-climactic drum roll please.....


I'm Pregnant! With a Boy!


I'm due in February and the coffee limit of one cup a day is killing me even more than the no-wine-while-being-the-stay-at-home-mom-of-a-toddler rule is. Though that one is not to be understated either.


         

Boobs

Before going to the birthday party mentioned in the last post, we swung by the mall so I could buy some maternity bras... and then change into one on the drive to the party. Count yourself lucky you weren't in THAT passing car.

Me - OH MY GOD. Seriously, my crankiness factor has been decreased at LEAST 50% by buying maternity bras. Seriously, you have NO IDEA.

B - (mostly just silence... out of boredom, I assume)

Me - You know they were $45?

B - WHAT? You've GOT to be joking. FOOOOORTY-FIIIIVE dollars?? (here I picture "fooooorrtyyy-fiiiivve dooollaars" being repeated echo-in-a-canyon style over and over)

Me - Yeah, that's why I had my dad get me a gift certificate to the maternity store for my birthday, so I could buy bras.

B - Oh My God, that's RIDICULOUS.

Me - Yeah, and you know what's funny? They basically didn't even have my size. Because non-pregnant I'm an A cup and pregnant I'm still only a B cup, which I'm betting almost no one is, so I had to search and search just to find a B. ALSO, I bought a 38 B, but I had to add my extender thingy b/c I'm REALLY a 40 B. For a small woman, I have a freakishly large rib cage.

B - Wait. YOU'RE A B?!!!!!!

Me - Yeah, a hearty B probably, but very very firmly no where near a C. I have plenty of room in the bra if I needed it.

B - Oh my GOD! You've somehow boob-conditioned me. I thought you were like a D! I thought your boobs were SO big now.... I can't believe you're a B...

    

Post-pregnancy clothes

I'm pretty sure at least half the women I know are either pregnant or just had a baby. I have no idea what was so exciting about the end of last summer, but I clearly missed the memo. The crappy thing about post-baby body is not only are you going to be hanging on to some extra weight for a while - making it so that all of your old clothes don't fit - the weight isn't evenly distributed throughout your body. It's all in the middle, making dressing even more difficult.

And of course you don't want to spend a bunch of money buying new clothes that you will hopefully not need in six months, but you also can't fit into anything you currently own. It is this exact dilemma that I was reminded of when I received yet another random clothing catalog from another random company I've never heard of.

But when I flipped through the Body Central catalog all I could think was these clothes would be perfect for post-baby! They're really inexpensive, and they're all in the blousy style, perfect for hiding the middle. (Because of that, they would also be perfect for first-trimester body when you just look a little fat, and not adorably pregnant yet.)




* Body warning for all the first-time moms out there... Most of the time, even if you lose all the baby weight, half of your clothes STILL won't fit because your hips have expanded a little and everything has just shifted in an imperceptible way that only your clothes notice.

 Kimono Style Sublimation Top

$19.80

 Blossom Print Maxi Dress

$34.50

 Sublimation Smocked Top

$19.80

Brightly Embroidered Tube Dress

$24.80

 

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...

Even the cats are ready...

Dizzy realized today that the changing pad is an absolutely lovely and snugly place to lie down. And while it's really not something we'll encourage, I get the appeal. It's soft, curved, and right under the fan. Now if only I could communicate this to Baby Girl... "If you don't get here soon the cats are going to lay claim to your very pretty nursery and since YOU'RE NOT HERE to defend the territory, there's very little I can do to help."

I sat in her glider the other day and tried to explain the appeal of the nursery to encourage her arrival. I told her that all of mommy's wonderful and lovely craft items have been relegated to a stack of boxes in the garage just so that she could have her own room! I also explained that daddy has to do his homework, access Facebook, work out, store a guest mattress, and scoop the kitty litter all in the same room SO SHE COULD HAVE HER OWN ROOM. I even explained that she had the newest furniture in the house and was the recipient of the fancy paintings and the home made shiny hot pink curtains - all things that are far superior to my high school bed frame and the blinds that came with the house that the master bedroom holds.

So it's either one of two things: She has no appreciation for good design and it's importance (which I refuse to believe, because she's MY daughter) OR that she was waiting for me to finish her specially made curtains because she understands the transformative power that window treatments can have on a room. That was B's theory. Basically, that she's a diva and wanted that room completed before moving in. So the curtains are done (can't give you pictures until we get the right curtain rod up) and now we'll see what the weekend holds.

More Preparations

Sorry about the long posting delay. I've been meaning to put these pictures up for a while but laziness took over. I'm 39 1/2 weeks today and everything is still pluggin' along. I continue to have tons of Braxton Hicks contractions, but nothing real yet. And yesterday she dropped pretty significantly, so I guess that's a good sign. We're sick of all the waiting and breathless anticipation though.

I was hoping that Murphy's Law would kick in today and I'd go into labor purely based on the fact that someone is coming to clean the furniture and I'd be forced to cancel the appointment, but they arrive in a few hours so it's not looking good.

This was last Friday, at 39 weeks.

And remember when I mentioned that we were making food to freeze? Well I bet you didn't think I meant In Case of a Month Long Nuclear Meltdown. Yeah... we have a lot of food. The top shelf is all B - lots of sauce and homemade meatballs, plus some calzone filling and pizza dough. Then we have stuffed shells (with fresh herbs and the homemade sauce), and tacos. After that it's chicken parm, turkey chili, and shrimp. And finally we have homemade salsa and Ouiser's super delicious enchiladas. As you can see we rocked the FoodSaver and it's vacuum sealing super powers.

The other project was the two hospital gowns. I had been planning this since before I even got pregnant and with the help of my mom we were able to turn it into a reality a few weeks ago. Wearing a gown that someone else has worn actually didn't bother me, but the general ugliness and other flaws did. The gowns are way too long for a short person, the necks are way too high (which I hate, regardless of what I'm wearing), they don't cover your ass as you're walking down the hall, and they're always ugly.

So I bought some fabric and my mom snagged a gown from her hospital that we altered to create a better version: V-neck, snaps down both shoulders for easy breastfeeding, snaps alllll the way down the back so you can walk around, length is right below my knees, and it's way prettier. And really, if there's any time in life where you can do one very small thing to make yourself feel a little better, I really think this is it. After completion, there are only one or two things I would change on future gowns, but we'll tackle that the next time someone is pregnant and wants their own gown.

This the the Day 1 gown. I realize that black might seem strange to a lot of people, but black is my Happy Place. Much of my closet is black. I always feel a little better when I'm in black. Plus... black hides fluids better than other colors. Sorry, but it's true.

This is the Day 2 gown. Brighter, happier, less pain and more smiling baby.

This is the bottom - both gowns have a satin trim on them.

A Recent Conversation

Friend - I haven't seen you in a while, how has your back been holding up with the pregnancy?

Me - Oh, pretty good, considering. I have a few hours a day of good work-time in me, but the rest of the time I'm mostly on the couch. I watch a lot of TV lately.

Friend - Oh yeah? Like A Baby Story and Maternity Ward!!

Me - Ummmm.... noooooo.... more like several hour marathons of Law & Order and Bones. I hate the baby shows, but I'm all about the crime dramas.

Baby Face

Meet our little miss Pouty Pants! I had a 34 week ultrasound yesterday so they could check her weight, organs, and all kinds of other stuff and we walked away with some pretty amazing pictures. Unlike most other doctor's offices, my new office here does the 3D ultrasounds as their standard practice, so we got an unbelievable look at our little peanut.

The doc said that she has lots of hair, weighs 5 lbs 13 oz, is extremely active (Ugh. Many thanks to my restless hubby for that trait), and is a "world class pouter." She MAY have gotten the pouting thing from me, but really... why point fingers?

It was hard to get a clear picture of her face because she wouldn't move her hands, but we eventually got some good shots. Now we're even more anxious for her arrival!! I have a lot of her clothes washed and the lightweight stroller put together, but we're still waiting on the arrival of the nursery furniture to really whip things into shape.




Here's another picture of her - very squished - face. Clearly she has her Aunt M's beautiful lips and her dad's dark hair. I think I got shut out of the gene pool this time around, but we'll see. It's not surprising, I'm one big recessive gene, so I wasn't expecting a pale little redhead.



As for me, here's how she looks from the outside. I'm still feeling remarkably good for being 35 weeks along. I live a very low key lifestyle that includes a lot of couch time, so I'm sure that's why I'm lucky enough to feel so good, but considering the fact that I thought I'd be on full bed rest due to my back at this point, I'm loving life. And can I mention for the one millionth time how grateful I feel to not be working?? What an unbelievable blessing it is to just focus on our new house and our little one without having to work. Most people are not this lucky and I recognize that fact every single day. Right now I will happily give up new clothes and dinners out and every other luxury to enjoy a peaceful existence with Baby Girl and B.

Almost 33 Weeks

Here is the latest big belly pic. I'm told that I've gotten bigger just in the last few weeks and it definitely feels that way as the general uncomfortable/awkward factor is steadily increasing (although I've had two people tell me that I still don't look pregnant from the back, so that's encouraging).

I have a serious case of what I've been calling HLS - Heavy Limb Syndrome. It started last weekend as we were on one of our THREE trips to Lowes and I felt like I couldn't move very easily. I sounded like a crazy person as I was trying to explain to B "I don't know, I just feel like my limbs are SO HEAVY. Like, it's making me tired to lift my arm right now and lifting my legs to walk is killing me. It's very weird, I can't explain it. It's like I spent all day yesterday working out." One quick Google search later and I learned that while it's not really called HLS, it is a real symptom and about half of pregnant women get it. They mentioned something about extra blood, but I wasn't really paying attention since they said there's nothing you can do about it.

I'm also starting to notice, as the belly gets more and more prominent and the belly button refuses to be ignored, that the looks from strangers have been steadily increasing. When you're in the second trimester and your bump is adorable and cute and you feel great and you're not waddling yet, everyone looks at you with dewy eyes and a lovingly tilted head. "Ah, a young sweet pregnant lady with her husband - isn't that adorable? What a wonderful time. Sigh..."

The looks change quite a lot when you're this far along. The adults mostly look at you as though they really hope you don't pop or go into labor, thus forcing them to get involved, and the people of college age (both women and men) look at you as though they don't want to stand too close lest they actually CATCH the pregnancy. Lots of sideways glances and suspicious looks.

If I had the courage, and MAN I have never wanted something more, I could have had a BRILLIANT comedic moment last weekend in Macy's. B and I were going to the mall to get a pregnancy sling to support the huge belly and take the pressure off my back (here's a similar one - mine is like the one in the top left picture). We parked the car by Macy's and entered into a firestorm of teens and mothers swirling and whirling around the various makeup counters. Every girl had very impressively solid and fancy hair and they were all taking turns getting their makeup done. We quickly discerned that it was prom night or senior ball, or some other equivalent. So in I waddle into the sea of beautifully coiffed teen girls and more than anything in the world I wanted to grab my belly, put on a wicked grin, and scream out "BE CAREFUL TONIGHT GIRLS!! Hahahahaha...." Argh!! Would have been genius. But while I'm often accused of being too blunt, I'm not quite ballsy enough to pull that off. Not without some alcohol anyway.

So all in all I feel a lot better than I thought I would at this point, and I'm grateful. We also have our last ultrasound in two weeks so I'll have some Baby Girl pictures for you then.

Other than that, there's not much to report. There's a lot to do in the nursery before it's ready. Currently it's just an extra room that needs painting and is holding a lot of boxes and no furniture. We're hoping to make some progress on that front this weekend though. Some day, when there's paint on the walls, curtains on the windows, and assembled furniture, I'll post some pictures. I can't guarantee you that it'll be before the baby is actually here though. We'll see...

Welcome to the Capital District

Well, we made it! All of our stuff got here safely and swiftly thanks to Atlas Moving Company. Who would have thought that 2 people, 2 cats, and their little not-quite-here-yet baby could rock a full size tractor trailer so hard? I was picturing the 14' U-Haul that arrives when you perform a do-it-yourself move and stack your boxes 25' high. Apparently they're more careful than that when you're paying them. We got that big fat truck all to ourselves, got to block traffic in two different towns, and had any of the boxes marked Fragile single stacked so that nothing would harm them.

B also got to be known as "BOSS" for a solid two days as that was the head moving guy's name for him. I was cracking up the irony of the fact that B actually knew nothing at all about the boxes, the move, the moving company, etc., as I have been handling that for the past 9 months, but it satisfied my urge to not talk to strangers, so it was fine by me.

Thank god for my obsessive labels though. Those people are SERIOUS when they roll stack after stack of boxes into your house and you have to shout out where every box goes without the benefit of them actually stopping the hand truck. Also, don't think that boxes labeled "Bathroom" or "Master Bedroom" will negate your need to do this. Those men work hard and fast and have NO TIME for your labels. So I stood at the edge of the garage watching the next batch of boxes roll up the long driveway and tried to magically and frantically remember what I packed in That Box That Had The Torn Wine Label on the Side. Then they would roll up and it would be a frantic dash of "Uhhh.... KitchenBathroomGarageOffice!" God forbid we had to make them turn the box so we could see the label. I could feel them thinking "WOMAN! You've got a lot of shit for 2 people and we need to get back to Syracuse before dinner - MAKE A DECISION!" So - moral of the story - label those boxes within an inch of their lives if you plan on paying someone to move you.

So now the stuff is HERE, but the unpacking of it is an altogether different story. That'll take a while. And really, it wouldn't have taken that long - thanks to the labels! - but I'm sorry to say that my back is OUT. I mean big time out. The kind of OUT where I cry a little when I have to pee because it means I'll have to get off the couch. It hasn't been this bad since before I got pregnant and my physiatrist said "well... I can either give you the muscle relaxers and you can stop trying to get pregnant, or you can use heat and ice and keep trying." Both of us were at the appointment (since I didn't have the ability to stand upright at that point) and we figured that since I wouldn't be able to take muscle relaxers the entire time I was pregnant or breast feeding anyway, why start now!

I'm actually not even sure why it happened because there wasn't an "incident" per se. Some combination of pushing myself too hard during the move (although it really didn't feel that way) and pregnancy hormones. This is the exact moment in the pregnancy where you get an increase in the hormones that relax your ligaments - the same hormones and wiggly ligaments that make my exact problem worse.

So who knows why it happened but my annoyance at the problem is trumping the overwhelming pain. Do you know how FRUSTRATING it is to have a house of boxes and a baby on the way and NOT be able to let your new Type A personality unleash organizational FURY on those boxes?!! Sitting on the couch for 9 hours a day during those first trimester pukey days was great, but trust me when I tell you that it's the last thing I want to be doing right now.

I'm hoping that a few days or a week of rest will actually help the situation and this isn't the beginning of that "probably bed rest towards the end of pregnancy" that my specialists warned me about. In fact, I'm deciding right now that it's not because the reality is that I have too much shit to do.

Memorial Day Weekend

We're back from our weekend of travel and are packing up the house tomorrow before moving on Wednesday. Everything was lovely - the baby shower, the visit to camp, seeing our families, etc. As is the usual trend lately, I spent more time visiting and less time taking pictures, so I only have a very random little group of pictures to show you.

At the country club before the shower started.

The beautiful hot pink and black centerpieces. I forgot to take a picture of the awesome bookmark favors - oops!

Relaxing on the side porch at camp while the kids played in the yard.

Feather Nester's daughter L and her corn on the cob.

29 Weeks

Haven't done a bump update in a while, so I thought I'd start our week off there. I entered my third trimester last week, so we're in the home stretch now. Of course, I'm still lucky enough to not be uncomfortable and swollen yet, so maybe it's not really the home stretch.

There's not too much to report actually. My back has started to ache on a daily basis now, so my brace is permanently attached to my hips, but the pain is very tolerable, so I'm grateful for that. My big hope was that we'd be able to get to Albany and get a little unpacked and a little prepared before the debilitating pain kicked in, so it looks like I'll get my wish.

Our little peanut takes after her very fidgety father and rarely stops moving. Most nights we sit on the couch watching my stomach do bizarre alien rolls and screaming at the sight of it. We're seven months in and still can't digest the fact that there's a little person in there.

This past weekend we got to see yet another little one that entered our lives 6 weeks ago - the very first Tar Beach Band baby (B's former band). He's totally precious and yet another example of a freakishly well behaved baby (much like our nephew). B was joking that our friends are screwing us over by having all of these little Stepford babies and we're going to be the poor suckers that end up with the cranky, high maintenance baby. But she and I have long talks during the day about being calm and happy, so maybe we'll get lucky also. Here's hoping!