Let's Talk About Socks, Baby...

In my 33 Things post, I asked if anyone wanted to know about any of my ridiculously silly 33 things. 

I was met with a resounding yes.

Well, resounding might be an overstatement. Two people wanted to know about the socks. And since they both asked in a demanding manner so sweetly, I'll oblige.

When I tried to get pregnant with L, we only had to "try" for two months before a little bun named L was in the oven. 

When I tried to get pregnant with G, I wasn't so lucky. Each month when I realized I wasn't pregnant, I'd be disappointed. A few months in, my coworker told me I needed to borrow a pair of her socks to get pregnant. 

I know. 

I didn't believe her for a second either. Were these sexy socks? And if so, I certainly didn't want to borrow them. 

She explained that she had gotten these socks adorned with baby buggies as a gag gift, wore them for two months, and was pregnant. Luckily, I didn't have to wear them while...ahem...so that was a plus. 

And it was a good thing that I didn't have to wear them because when they arrived at work on Monday morning, I realized how hideous...and uncomfortable....they were. 

They were tall, light blue socks with glittery baby carriages on them. I kid you not. 

But I figured they couldn't hurt (as long as I took them off before jumping in the sack, anyway), so I thought they were worth a try. 

I wore them at least once a week. Two months later, I saw two pink lines. 

I passed them onto my work bestie, who really wanted her own baby. Two months later, she was preggo. (Back me up, J. Tell my readers I'm not crazy.)

My BFF of twenty-seven years had been trying to get pregnant for six years. No one could figure out why nothing, including an IVF attempt, had worked.  I mailed her the socks when I got them back from my friend at work.

Two months later, she came over, socks in hand, to tell me...

.....they didn't work. She wanted me to pass them onto someone else. Even magic socks wouldn't work for her. I was so disappointed, and a little embarrassed. Did I really believe in fertility socks? Psshhh.

Little did either of us know that she'd be calling me a couple of months later, giddy, saying that the socks worked. She had been pregnant when she handed the socks back to me and didn't know it yet. 

When I recounted this story to B, he insisted that I get the socks out of the house, pronto. 

They are currently in the hands of a coworker who is ready to have a baby but is waiting for the green light from her husband.  I'll keep you updated. 

Anyone want them next?

Grayson's Birth Story: Part 2

For the prequel to Baby Gray's birth story, start here.

We rode the elevator up to Labor and Delivery, where we entered a triage room and the receptionist got every last personal detail. At one point, I expected her to ask what sexual position we conceived the baby.

Finally, I was given a beautiful hospital gown and told to make myself comfortable on the bed. A nurse came in, introduced herself, and proceeded to give me the most painful exam to determine my dilation. Nothing my doctor had done to bring on labor even came close to the pain this woman put me through. I swear I felt her hand in my throat.

"You're only at a 4," she sniffed, and instructed me to walk for an hour and come back at 5 pm. She explained that if I hadn't progressed, they'd call my doctor at that point and find out what he wanted them to do. Since he had already promised that he'd instruct them to break my water, I was not happy about walking, but I certainly didn't want to leave and return later.

So we walked.

And walked.

And took stairs two at a time.

And walked.

And took a break when my contractions got even closer and stronger.

And walked.

And smiled politely at the people who jumped out of our way in the hallways. I know I looked funny in a hospital gown, robe, and tennis shoes. Evidently I looked dangerous as well. Perhaps they were afraid my water would break on their shoes...who knows.

After an hour, I re-entered Labor and Delivery, hoping that I'd progressed.

The next exam, which was, thankfully, done by a gentler nurse, showed a whole lot of nothin. She left to call my doctor and returned, smiling, saying he wanted to admit me and break my water.

I got set up in my own room, had vitals and blood taken, and was given a full bag of fluids as directed by my doctor. Apparently, he had a sneaking suspicion that I might need an epidural, and wanted me to be well hydrated in order to avoid blood pressure drops. At that moment, my friend/coach/spin teacher extraordinaire, Audrey, arrived. As soon as she saw me, she teared up, and I sternly admonished her, saying I wasn't ready to cry yet.

I almost changed my mind when the house doctor came in with his water breaking tool, but I barely held it together. He promised it wouldn't hurt more than a pelvic exam, and thinking about Nurse Ratchett's initial exam, I started trembling. Luckily, I could barely feel it, and I was set up with towels between my legs and any last bit of modesty taken away.

Within five minutes, the contractions that had stopped me in my tracks for the last six and a half hours felt like little gentle uterine massages. These new ones came hard and fast and got stronger and stronger. I was screaming. I was clawing the bed. I was trying to breathe through them as Audrey and Brian prompted me, but it wasn't helping. Brian came over and started to rub my hip at one point, and I yelled at him not to touch me.

Audrey was timing them, and they were coming between 30 and 45 seconds apart. None of the research I had done in my hopes for a natural birth had warned me about this. Contractions this hard and fast were only supposed to happen at the very end. I wanted to change positions, but I didn't have enough time between them to get off the bed and onto the birthing ball, or even onto all fours. Intense doesn't begin to describe it.

I screamed about the contractions, then as Brian and Audrey told me how well I was doing, I lamented at what a baby I was. This was not going as I had hoped. After an hour of this, non-stop, I began to get nauseous.

The next few minutes were a blur. I don't know exactly what I said, but I ended up asking for the epidural. A small part of me was disappointed that I didn't make it, but another part of me knew that living through an hour of that level of pain was an accomplishment. I wanted to avoid an epidural because of how sick it made me feel, but I couldn't feel much worse at the moment.

The anesthesiologist came in after what felt like 30 minutes but was probably closer to 3. Between contractions, I explained that I wanted the lowest dose possible. He rolled his eyes and told me that it wouldn't be enough, but he'd do what I wanted.

They sat me up and I gripped a pillow, giving it everything I had to stay still through my violent contractions. B hung on to me to keep me from moving, and I warned him to move away to avoid getting my water on his shoes. (The fact that I was concerned about ruining his work clothes still makes me giggle. Priorities, people.)

I settled back down and realized that the epidural worked.

Only on the right side of my body.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. It was at this point that I tweeted "I am dying here." (Oh...I didn't mention that I tweeted updates through my labor?)

I called the nurse, who helped me roll to my left side, explaining that sometimes that happens, and this way, the medicine could move onto my left side as well.

For the next hour, I screamed more. The pain was almost more intense because it was only in the top of my left leg and in my hip. The nurse came back to check me to find that I was only at a 6 and the drugs should have moved into my left side by then. She explained that she'd call the anesthesiologist, but sometimes women have a window in which the pain medicine doesn't work.

For. the. love.

The anesthesiologist came back in, tried to explain what he was doing to fix the problem, and all I heard was "blah blah blah even it out blah blah again this small amount is not going to work to stop the pain blah blah blah."

But he ended up being my new BFF when whatever it did worked. Although the pain was not even close to being gone, I could tolerate it by moaning and changing positions. Everyone in the room encouraged me to use the pump to get more medicine, but I chose not to. Luckily, the IV fluids had really worked to prevent blood pressure drops. I could still wiggle my toes and move my legs around. I was shaking so hard, as my husband so classily put it, that I looked like a crack fiend, but this labor was no comparison to my terrible experience giving birth to L.

For the next 5 hours, we watched the baseball game. When the contractions got tough, I closed my eyes and listened to Audrey and Brian talk about everything and nothing. Having two people in the room was the best decision I ever made. When the contractions slowed, I was able to join in the chatting.Every few minutes, I'd say something about the fact that I couldn't believe that shortly I would have another baby.

The nurse, Karla, who was fabulous and hilarious, checked me from time to time. She explained that I could push the pump every ten minutes, since it was an extremely minimal dose. I finally pushed it once when she told me that it was a great time for a tiny bit more to keep me at this level through the delivery. I was glad to find that one pump indeed made a minimal difference but after that, I put it out of my reach.

After two more hours, Karla came back in and checked me, and I was at a 9. She said she'd return in an hour and a half to see if I was ready to push.

40 minutes later, I pushed the call button.

"Umm....I think I need to be checked now," I said nervously. "I feel a ton of pressure." (Thank goodness for the small epidural dose.)

The nurse came back in and checked me. "Yep! You are at a 10!"

The trilogy will be complete in tomorrow's post....

Not-so-silent Sundays: Gray's birth story, Part 1

Have you ever had an experience that was so amazing that you grieved it coming to an end?

On Thursday night, I was lucky enough to do just that, giving birth to Grayson.

I'm sure that regardless of the experience, giving birth to a healthy baby is awe-inspiring and life-changing. But Gray's birth was so amazing that every time I think about it, my heart swells a little. It was everything I hoped for and some things I didn't think I wanted. How it all turned out so perfect is beyond me.

On Thursday morning, I visited my OB, feeling a little negative. I had just seen him on Monday, and although he had expected me to go into labor on Tuesday or Wednesday, I hadn't.

He walked into the exam room, took one look at me, said, "Uh-oh, let's try this again," and walked out. Evidently, I had shot him some serious daggers when he walked in. I was so disappointed that his magic tricks didn't work on Monday's appointment, and terrified that I was going to have a hard time with the delivery if I waited any longer. I just had a feeling that I was carrying a big baby.

He re-entered the room and by then I was laughing. We discussed my fears and the fact that he had to pull a 6 pound 15 ounce Logan out of me, which almost led to an emergency c-section. He didn't think this baby was any bigger than Logan, but agreed that I needed to go into labor. "I'm going to stretch the heck out of you," he warned me...and then did just that. While he did, I had a contraction, and almost jumped off of the table was comforted by his saying that was a good sign.

He took pity on me and said I could head to the hospital that evening after dinner, and when the nurses who worked there called him, he'd tell them to break my water.

I left, grinning, with as much of a bounce in my step as a hugely pregnant waddling woman can have. I stopped by my mom's house, since she had kept L for me the night before (we all were sure I'd go into labor by then). As I visited with the two of them and we ate lunch, I noticed the contractions that had started at the office were getting stronger.

And faster. I started timing them, and realized that they were 5-7 minutes apart. This had happened several times before, but had always stopped.

One hour later, they were still coming. I called the office, and told the nurse what was happening. She put me on hold and talked to the nurse practitioner. When she got back on the phone, she told me to drink a large glass of water and they'd probably stop, since they were most likely from my exam. If they were exactly 5 minutes apart, I should head to the hospital.

I drank 32 ounces of water, and they slowed to 8 minutes. I decided to head home for a nap and some cleaning. After all, I'd need to come home to a clean house...my baby was on his way later tonight! I hopped in my car, and as I drove home, the contractions picked up again.

7 minutes.

6 minutes.

By the time I got home, they were five minutes. B was at work. I was home alone.

I went to the bathroom and wasn't sure if my water had broken. (Don't ask.)

Still 5 minutes.

After some "should I; shouldn't I" tweeting, my Twitter friends convinced me to call B and head to the hospital. By the time he got home, he was frantic and I had somehow calmed down, even though the contractions were 4-5 minutes apart and stopping me in my tracks.

He flew in the door, breathless, grabbed my bags, and rushed me out. My careful, methodical husband does not speed. He absolutely flew me to the hospital.

I walked into the hospital and calmly told the woman at the counter, "I think I'm in labor."

the night before I went into labor

To be continued....

Still

Still here.

Still pregnant.

Still working (although today is my last day!).

Still having contractions every single night that are between 3 and 10 minutes apart.

Still having contractions every single night that stop right when I get ready to head to the hospital.

Still disappointed that I won't be induced tomorrow like I had originally thought.

Still amazed that I am walking (and walking and walking and walking on my plan time) around dilated to a 4.

Still nervous...about childbirth, about the baby's size, about getting restretched tomorrow if the little man hasn't made his appearance. (As my mom and aunt so classily put it on Facebook, the doors are off and they are ready to take off the hinges. I'm petrified about the hinge removal at my doctor's appointment tomorrow.)

Still dreaming about holding my baby.

Still beyond excited to finally see him. To snuggle him. To provide for him.

Still giddy that any day now I'll be a mama of 2 boys...my dream come true.

A case of the (very pregnant) Mondays

I went to the doctor today, all excited. After my four hours of contractions on Saturday night, losing my mucous plug, and spotting today, I was bound to have made some progress. Plus, I was excited to get the details of my induction. Would it be Thursday or Friday? Morning or afternoon? Squeeeee!!!

Um, yeah. Total buzzkill in the stirrups.

No progress. Zip. Zero. Nada. Still at a 3.

He stretched me to a 4, but explained I'd probably go backwards a little.

That wasn't enough, though. When I asked about my induction date, I got the fabulous news that because I won't be technically 39 weeks till Saturday, I can't be induced until....

....wait for it....

Monday.

Effing Monday.

So now the plan is to hope for contractions that come between 5-7 minutes and if they make their appearance, rush to the hospital and ahem...don't downplay the pain I'm in, if you know what I mean.

And if they don't come?

Go back to get restretched (Yippee.) on Thursday and hope that the third time's a charm.

Oh, and moms in the parent drop-off lane were literally laughing and pointing at me during drop-off duty today.

Laughing. And pointing. You read that right.

Whatever.

Namas-freakin-te.

Last night.....

I had quite the evening last night.

We were heading out to Trader Joe's and stopped by my mom's house to pick up the mobile that I designed and she made for the nursery. While there, I started having contractions that came every five minutes.

This has happened before, so I didn't panic.

After a while, they moved to six to seven minutes. I figured they were slowing, so we left to get our shopping done.

Once we were in the car, they were anywhere from four to six minutes. And I really had to go to the bathroom. (If you've had a baby, you know what I mean. If not, just trust me on this one.) We stopped at Lion's Choice and proceeded onto Trader Joe's, timing contractions all the way.

B was almost running through the store in a panic. I was attempting to stay calm.

On our way home, we had to stop again for me to go to the bathroom and I almost didn't make it. I knew this had to be it. Contractions were coming every three to four hours. It had been over two hours since they started. They were lasting longer and becoming more painful.

We called B's dad and asked him to meet us at home to pick up L to spend the night.

Of course, immediately, the contractions slowed slightly, to about five minutes.

And then six.

By the time B's dad arrived, they were at every eight minutes, and much less painful.

For the next hour and a half, I continued to time them (on Twitter, no less). Five minutes. Four minutes.

Should we go to the hospital? I didn't want to be "that girl" who gets sent home, red-faced. They didn't hurt that bad, but I remember telling the nurse who insisted I get an epidural last time that they didn't hurt that bad.

Then they slowed. A lot. Every ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes.

Oh wait, six again.

And then they stopped. I tried several natural induction methods and went to sleep, thinking that my water would certainly break during the night and I'd need my rest. Because who has contractions that last two minutes and come every three minutes and then they stop completely for hours on end?

Apparently, me. Because I had the greatest night sleep ever. I got woken up once with a pretty painful contraction. I turned on "Say Yes to the Dress" (don't judge), got ready to time them again, and nothing.

Huh.

All I can say is that I hope my labor coach is right...that this little boy is going to be the perfect infant because he's given me quite a time during my pregnancy. And yes, I know I'm jinxing myself but at this point, I don't believe in that anymore anyway. At least not with this child.

Pray for real labor today...and my ability to recognize it. Because goodness knows, I'll be sticking around until I absolutely have to go, and I'd prefer a hospital birth over a car birth. Just sayin'.

Namaste.

38 week update...with a bit TMI

I suck at keeping baby books updated. My mom gave me a beautiful scrapbook at one of my showers when I was pregnant with L and I have put exactly zero photographs in it. It's actually already made. All I have to do is print the photos and paste them in. I have not even put one in. Go ahead and let that sink in for a minute. It's bad.

I had every intention of keeping a pregnancy journal and that didn't exactly happen, unless you count this blog. I do, thankyouverymuch.

I've discussed everything about my pregnancy. I've rejoiced. I've complained. And now I am crossing the TMI line. If you get grossed out by bodily/pregnancy details, stop reading now.

Last warning.

I am losing my mucous plug today and I totally have my hopes up that this baby is coming this weekend. I know I shouldn't. It won't come as a surprise to any of my regular readers to know I immediately googled how long it takes to go into labor after losing it. I read that it can be anywhere from 24 hours, to several days. I calmed down a little.

And then my mom called. I asked her how long it took her to go into labor after losing her plug, and she giddily told me it was less than 24 hours. I got all excited again, and upon hanging up with her, I realized that within five minutes, all of my mom's friends would be thinking about my vagina because she was calling all of them to tell them I lost my plug.

Yesterday, I felt weird all day. Not only was I shaky and nervous... and cold for the first time in nine months, my mouth went tingly at one point. I ran into the nurse's office and there were three nurses in there. When I breathlessly told them what was going on, they all nodded knowingly. "Baby's on a nerve," they said, almost without looking at me. I guess they were right, because after I moved my belly around, the numbness disappeared. Weird...right? And who wouldn't think they were in the beginning stages of a stroke? Not that I personally did. Ahem. The nurses all also told me that my other feelings were a good sign labor would be beginning soon.

So here I sit, hoping that I'll get to go to the hospital this weekend. I can. not. wait. to hold my new little man and make L a big brother.

And I am simultaneously terrified that I am going to give birth this weekend. I've done this before. I shouldn't be scared. Last time, it was a rough go of it. My blood pressure dropped. L's blood pressure dropped. My heart rate dropped, and so did his. I felt nauseous. I got a fever. I got so itchy that I had to get Benadryl, which made me high as a kite, and not a good high, if you know what I mean. I firmly believe that the majority of my problems were from the epidural, and I am hoping that at least waiting to get it this time will give me a better experience.

I'm trying to focus on that. Every time I start to get scared, B says, "Gina, the second L was born you said you wanted to do that again." (I did.)

So even though I know that this mucous plug means nothing, it totally could. *cue deep breathing*

Today I'm 38 weeks pregnant.




And it's hitting me that I'm going to have a baby. Soon.

Holy crap.

Thankful Thursday-Gratitude in spite of crabbiness

I'm not gonna lie. I'm grumpy today. I'm emotional. I'm uncomfortable.

But in hopes of "turning this frown upside down," as my coworker just instructed me to do, I am going to refocus here.

I am thankful that I have a job that I adore. Because, really...if I had to go to a job that I hated, or even just sort-of liked, I'd be miserable. I'd actually cry before coming to work every day instead of just being close to tears as I was this morning. Each student I see makes me smile. Every hug and belly pat I get reminds me that I am working in a place that is as close to a fairy-land as I can get. (Yes, I really feel that way...starting your career in a middle school makes an elementary school appear to be filled with sunshine and rainbows. Trust me on this one.)

I am thankful for my coworkers who are by far, the best staff in the world. They compliment me even when I am as big as a house, let me vent, and perhaps most importantly, supply me with candy. Yesterday, my work bestie brought me Lemonade Mike and Ike's and this morning another coworker insisted I go get a handful of her stash of Swedish Fish out of her desk when she saw me looking less than happy to be here.

I am thankful for blogs like this and this that put things into perspective for me. When I am complaining and only thinking about myself and my back pain and the contractions that keep teasing me (I had two that were three minutes apart last night!) , I tend to have a hard time staying positive. My husband has been telling me lately that when I'm pregnant, sometimes my "be positive...everything's gonna be fine" mentality goes straight out the window.

I am thankful that even though I haven't gone into labor yet, I was progressing as of Monday. And the fact that I'm dilated as much as I am means that I can be induced without Pitocin next week. My doctor and I made a compromise that as long as I'm dilated, he'll simply break my water rather than starting that lovely Pit.

I am thankful that my back feels better than it did yesterday. I seriously thought it might break in half by the time I got home yesterday.

I am thankful for my new discovery of sweet iced tea at my favorite gas station. I've been craving it lately and I get a 32 ounce tea with crushed ice for 69 cents. And it's on my way to work. And although I've been so good about only drinking caffeine every other day at most, I have fallen off the wagon since I have started working full-time. (All you worriers...I promise I put ice in until it overflows my cup first, so I don't drink anywhere near 32 ounces of that evil caffeine. Feel better?)

I am thankful to feel this little man rocking and rolling like the wild man that I am convinced he is. I love seeing a knee go across my belly and marveling at the miracle that I get to experience every single day. As much as I'm ready to meet him, there is something truly awe-inspiring about watching his movements and wondering who he is going to look like. Will he have eyes like B and L? Will he have my nose (I hope not)? Will he make his entrance into the world as active and alert as L?

Now when I have those every-seven-minute contractions that go on for 35 minutes and then just stop....or when the hundredth coworker says, "Oh, you are still here?" I'll re-read this. Just remind me to do so before the hormonally-induced waterworks start...okay?

Namaste!

Impatience at its finest

I didn't exactly get my labor date wish of last night.

I kicked off the school year today by going back to work. Honestly, it worked out better that way. I got so much accomplished and I now feel like a sub could walk into my room and take over without me feeling any guilt of neglecting her.

I won't, however, say it was easy. I sat in a 45-minute IEP meeting in which I had three BIG contractions and it was everything I had to keep a straight face and just will my water not to break in front of this family whom I had never met.

After that meeting was over, I called my doctor and explained that once again, my contractions were getting stronger and asked if there were any openings today instead of tomorrow, as was originally planned.

I may or may not have also called due to being anxious to get my membranes stripped as my doctor had promised. Just a little.

At first, the receptionist said no, but then she called me back, saying they were worried about me, and they squeezed me in.

I spent the rest of my day getting as much accomplished as possible when you are really, really pregnant and working in an elementary school. I clenched my teeth smiled nicely in response to all the comments and looks and questions and pats. By the time I left, I had told 285 people my due date, said I was feeling fine 9520 times, ignored 92875 comments about my waddle, and told 7928 kids that yes, there was a baby in my belly.

At least that's what it felt like. It was really a little ridiculous.

Well, I thought it was ridiculous until I caught a glimpse of myself in the dress I had worn to work....

(Please ignore L's handprints on the bottom of the mirror. He enjoys checking himself out, and with this belly, it's not easy to squat down and clean them.)

Ohhh. Yeah. I get it now.

So I flew to see my doctor at 3. When he examined me, I prayed that all the natural induction techniques I had tried this weekend had moved me past a 1. Because if they hadn't, and I could have just laid on the couch eating dark chocolate covered raisins and gotten the same results, I might have cried.

Luckily, they SO did!! He said I was between a 2 and a 3, and according to him, that's great progress for 5 days! Can I get a woo hoo?? He stripped my membranes as much as he could. As he did so, he asked if it hurt. I told him it wasn't the most enjoyable feeling, and when he asked if I needed him to stop, I enthusiastically told him not to before he finished the question. I might have even asked him to do it again afterwards. Apparently, I'm fully comfortable with looking extraordinarily desperate.

I begged him to tell me when I'll hold this little boy in my arms and he said there was no way to tell. He said it could be tonight, but odds are, it'd be at least a few more days. And he made me promise that if I do go into labor this weekend, it wouldn't be during the big college rivalry. football game. I appeased him by saying I'd have it on in the delivery room when he arrived and that I'd cheer for his school of choice.

Unfortunately, there was more blood in my urine. Boo. It could be from the...ahem...natural induction techniques that occurred this weekend, or from an infection, or from nothing. I have to get a culture done when I arrive at the hospital, so please say a prayer that it all comes back normally. I'm choosing not to worry about it and to instead focus on the fact that...

I didn't gain any weight again this week!! I am holding steady at a 30 pound weight gain!

In other news, little man has hair, but not a lot. That mental image made me even more excited to see what he looks like, which I didn't think was possible.

I'm off to time these contractions, which have indeed gotten stronger since the membrane stripping...and cross my fingers, and toes, and basically everything but legs, in hopes that my next post will be introducing L's little brother!

Namaste!

A little hormone-induced paranoia for your reading pleasure

When I found out I was pregnant with this new little man, I couldn't believe that I'd be 37 weeks pregnant on the first day of school. Not exactly the best possible due date for a public school employee, but obviously I was so giddy that I was pregnant, I figured it'd all work out.

And it will.

BUT.

I am 37 weeks pregnant and the first day of school is Monday.

Usually, the first week of school is somewhat laid-back. We speech pathologists make contact with our students. We do basic language samples; see how our kids' speech sounds have regressed over the summer; take some baseline data.

Between those contacts, we finalize the schedule that we've put a ridiculous number of hours into creating. We make our sticker charts. We throw random crap into our treasure chests. We get our data books organized. We eat chocolate when we get overwhelmed. We create calendars for the school year. We start to schedule meetings. We are busy, but it goes at a slower pace and there is typically plenty of time to get the last few things done.

Yeah...not this year.

Last night, I brought home an obnoxious amount of work. I could go into labor at any time, and I needed to make sure that at any given second, things are ready for my substitute. Not only did I create a binder of data sheets, I put post-its on every. single. sheet. I gave information on each of them and then added suggestions of therapy activities for each one. I made sticker charts. (And I bounced on an exercise ball while doing it, which did NOT put me into labor. Sigh.)

I've been a sub. And it sucks a big one when you walk into a classroom and have no clue what the heck you are supposed to do.

Plus, I love my job. I want it done right. I want my kids to be taken care of. I want good therapies to be done.

BUT.

Can I confess something?

I don't want it done as well as what I do.

Oh man, I am a bad, bad person.

My biggest fear is that my sub is going to rock my entire staff's socks off. What if they like her better than me? What if they don't want me to come back? What if my kids don't miss me???

I have a fantastic plan set up for my maternity leave. After I have the baby (hopefully this weekend...hey, one can hope), I will be out for eight weeks full days. Then the next eight weeks, I'll go in from 12:15-3:45 each day. That will allow me to return full-time, but not until after Christmas break. Score...right?

But that also gives my sub (who is supposed to be awesome) ample time to bond with my friends...my principals...my kids...and steal their love away. Time to prove that she's a better speech-language pathologist than me.

I am ridiculous. Plain and simple. I know. Paranoid. Crazy.

But I know, that while I am sitting at home, rocking my baby, smelling his sweet baby smell and kissing his sweet baby cheeks, I will miss my "other kids" a little. I don't want to give up my time at home. Not even a little. But I love my job so much that it might be hard to be away.

Then again, there's a good chance that I'll be so sleep deprived that I won't even know what time or day it is, and I'll be saying, "Job? What job?"

Yeah...that's probably a better prediction.

But I still hope my sub leaves just a little to be desired. Just sayin'.

1 cm is better than 0 cm!

36.5 weeks...yes, I went to a public pool looking like this, and yes, I got LOTS of questions and comments!

I visited my doctor today for my 36 week appointment. Well, 36 weeks and 4 days.

The good news is that I am finally starting to dilate! It's about time!

The bad news is that I am less effaced than he initially thought....only about 50%.

But he promised to strip my membranes next week (yes, I know it's a bit controversial, but I am trying to do everything possible to avoid actual induction in two weeks). And he claims he has a 50% track record for membrane stripping putting his patients into labor. I'll take those odds!

So with any luck, I'll be blogging my progress from a hospital bed in the next week.

I'd write more, but I have got to go work on these natural induction techniques*. I swear they are working!

*natural induction techniques are a bit too personal for even me to go into detail (I know some of my readers would prefer it that way), but if you are interested in what I think is working, I'd be happy to e-mail you!

Who wants to go into labor? Say it with me...NOT me!

As most of you know, I am 36 weeks pregnant. (36 weeks and 2 days. But who's counting? NOT me!)

So technically, I am full-term. But I do NOT want to go into labor yet. No way. Of course I know that there is a reason that pregnancies are 40 weeks. And really, 37 weeks, at least, is a much healthier time to have a baby, especially a boy. So I do NOT want to go into labor. Nuh-uh.

No. Seriously, you guys. I mean, I am still waiting to borrow a bassinet from a very sweet and generous friend (Hi, Lindsay!), his nursery still needs finishing touches on it, and for goodness sakes, I have one last load of his laundry to do, and another to put away in his room. Don't be silly.

I am NOT going up to work this morning to set up my classroom, meet my new coworker, and my sub just in case my attempts at natural induction techniques this week work.

Er. I mean, natural induction techniques? What are those? Even if I had heard that spicy food, acupressure, herbs, and other...uh, personal techniques get the baby party started, I would not indulge in at least two a day, every day, starting last night. That is crazy talk. First of all, no one believes those old wives' tales and even if they did, I am only 36 weeks (and two days). Who actually does those? NOT me!

I do NOT have a few different days that I'd really like to go into labor. One of them is NOT this Wednesday. Of course, I want to sit through all those oh-so-exciting beginning of the school year meetings. And Meet the Teacher Night on Thursday night? I do NOT dread that. Of course I want to work an eleven-hour-day on Thursday, ending with being bubbly and cheery while I talk to all my students' parents....36 weeks and 5 days pregnant. Who wouldn't?

If I do end up sitting through meetings on Thursday and Friday without my water breaking some place embarrassing in the district, I do NOT want to go into labor a week from today. That would mean my baby would be born on my labor coach's 50th birthday. I do NOT think that would be awfully cool, especially since no one is throwing her a party. I do NOT envision a birthday cake with both her name and the baby's name on it.

You guys, please. I know this baby will come when he is supposed to come. Trying to plan the perfect day is ri-freakin-diculous. As someone who usually flies by the seat of her pants throughout life, I am NOT trying to control something that obviously cannot be controlled....NOT me!

MckMama, who had her own little man last week and certainly didn't see his birth going the way it did, invented this Not Me! blog carnival. Head on over, congratulate her on her gorgeous new son, and read what other people are NOT doing this week!

Friday Fragments

I am having 3rd trimester anxiety. Not about the baby coming...just a too-busy mind and a need to vent. This post is boring and simply a way to get some things out of my brain so that with any luck, I can get back to sleep. Kudos to you if you even skim it.

This is my second rough night this week. Monday night was absolutely terrible...between big painful contractions that woke me up, little man getting hiccups three times between 10 pm and 6 am, L deciding to sneak into our bed, and seven trips to the bathroom, I was almost in tears. So I am handling tonight better. I was up at 2:30 am with racing thoughts and a growling stomach. Fruit snacks and The Real World cured that. Now I'm up at 4:40 am with an allergy attack (even after my 10 pm Zyrtec) and a growling stomach. Here's hoping a banana and a blog post works.

It occurred to me that my doc has been spouting percentages at me every time he examines me. On Wednesday, he estimated 70%...and out of nowhere yesterday, I realized that he must be talking about effacement, right? So something is happening. I'll be 36 weeks on Saturday and I am planning on starting to try all the natural induction methods this week. Sex, spicy food, walking...can't hurt. I am not even considering castor oil until I get really desperate, though. Just sayin.

My summer is just about over. I'm going to my classroom on Monday to work on it and my schedule. Meetings start on Thursday and Friday. This summer has been extremely satisfying. I think L and I have done something fun every single day except for maybe two days, and I am so proud of that. And yes, the library and his grandparents' house counts as fun. He's been asking to go back to school, and shockingly, I'm ready for him to go.

Speaking of L, he's gone through such a language explosion lately. His two new words are "certainly" and "ridiculous" and he uses them in perfect context, although "ridiculous" may not always be behaviorally appropriate. He continues to be the Master Negotiator, starting pleas with "Mommy, here's da feeng..." He is such a social butterfly...he makes friends of all ages everywhere we go by flashing his smile and starting conversations about our upcoming plans or his girlfriend, Hermione.

L's diet is getting easier and easier, too. He doesn't get upset if I buy something at the grocery store or he sees someone eating something that he can't have. He just asks, "Will that make me itchy?" If I answer yes, he either says he doesn't want it or simply moves on. I find it amazing. The soy milk seemed to upset his stomach, and the rice and almond milks are disgustingly watery and lacking calcium, so I ordered him some calcium chewables this week. I am praying he'll tolerate them. I swear his behavior has improved in leaps and bounds every week since we started his diet, and he hasn't needed allergy or asthma medicine since. Again...amazing.

The nursery still isn't done. I only have two bottles. I have no diapers. I'd like to devote Sunday to getting-ready-for-baby day. That probably all depends on if I am up at 5:01 am Sunday morning blogging while I sneeze, stuff my face, and watch my belly move with a certain someone's hiccups, though...

Happy Friday! Enjoy your weekends!

On how I use my OB's office staff as psychotherapists

On Monday, I had a checkup at my OB's office.

On Wednesday, I ran into him (and his beautiful family) at the snow cone stand by my house. Nothing like chatting with your OB's wife over snow cones to make for some great blog fodder, but that's another post coming soon.

Last night, I had some excruciating pain in my hoo-ha that sent me shuffling to the couch and panting. My hubby waited on mefor the rest of the night. I drank a ton of water, laid on my left side, and breathed through the contractions I had.

This morning, I called the office to check on my urine culture results from Monday because of the pain I had. The nurse urged me to come in. I was sure that if my doctor saw me walk (okay, waddle) into his office after seeing me so much this week, he'd apply for a restraining order.

But I came in.

And by the time my doctor walked in, I was in tears. He walked in with this little grin on his face, ready to tease me, no doubt. He took one look at me and said, "What's wrong?"

"I feel stupid," I answered. "I was just here on Monday and then I saw you this week and you probably think I am stalking you and you keep telling me there is nothing wrong, but I keep having these pains and I hope they are not in my head and I have had two contractions since I've been waiting and I don't want to be that girl who is constantly calling and here and driving your whole office crazy."

You know, because rambling and crying, which was making me hotter and sweatier, sitting half-naked on the table, overall makes me look much less crazy. Obviously.

He walked over to me and patted my arm. He assured me that if I am having pain, I need to call. He promised that no one minds seeing me in the office...that it's the girls with the "bad personalities" who drive them nuts. He reminded me that we need to be extra careful because I went into preterm labor at exactly this point in my pregnancy with L.

He did an exam, which was extra uncomfortable, but showed absolutely nothing wrong. No dilation. No effacement. No nothin'.

He sent me across the hall for an ultrasound, which was great, because I'd wanted another peek at my little man. He's measuring at 5 pounds, 11 ounces, plus or minus one pound. He's right in the 50th percentile. He still has his hands up by his face all.the.time. L was the same way and it continued into infancy...he'd cover his eyes when he ate (cutest thing ever). I was a little concerned about his breathing because his hiccups feel so fast and they come so often, but the tech said he is not in any distress...in fact, he's practicing breathing, which is a good thing.

I went back across the hall for a non-stress test. I had to have those with L after my preterm labor, and they are pretty boring. I just laid there, hooked up to the machine, and listened to and watched my little man's heartbeat, which almost put me to sleep.

The doctor came in and looked at the readout. No contractions.

The nurse practitioner came in and took a peek. No contractions.

I started to think I was nuts. Maybe I really was imagining them.

The doctor came back in and I lamented the fact that I was contraction-free. He said this was good, because it meant that they were very irregular. Hmph.

And then I felt a teeny tiny contraction start. It got a little bigger and I looked up at the sheet. Yep, there it was! I knew it! The nurse practitioner walked back in. She confirmed it and I said, "See?!? I'm not crazy!"

"Well," she replied, "we really can't tell that from this readout." Hee. At least we can all joke about my craziness at my OB office. And isn't that what life is all about?

My doctor came back in and looked a little perplexed. He explained that some women, including his wife, just contract during their pregnancies. I said half-jokingly that maybe I won't make it too long without that epidural after all, if I'm having such a hard time now. We discussed that a little and he instructed me to take the smooth muscle relaxer that he prescribed if the pain got any worse.

As I was leaving, he said, "See you next week."

When I reminded him that I wasn't due to come in until the following week, he smiled and said, "If you want to come in next week, you call me. If you feel anything at all, I want you in here next week instead of waiting."

I asked if I should just wait to see how I feel, or make an appointment while I was there.

He paused and smiled at me.

"Knowing you...go ahead and make an appointment."

He knows me so well.

I stopped at the front desk to make my appointment and the nurses and receptionists were all sitting there, beginning their lunch break. They all fawned over my belly, touching it and telling their own pregnancy/labor/delivery story. Little man put on quite a show, kicking and rolling, to their delight. They complimented me like crazy. They promised that I did the right thing, coming in today.

And then they probably wrote "psycho" on my file after I left. But whatever.

34 week update

See that big belly up there?

That's a 34 week belly. And believe it or not, it's measuring right on track, according to my doctor yesterday.

And *cue victorious music* ....I LOST a pound!

So I celebrated with dinner at Dairy Queen. What? I'm going to spinning tomorrow! And I didn't get ice cream. (Yes, I thought about it.)

So I am at 26 pounds up from where I started. My goal was to stay under 35 pounds and it's starting to look like that's feasible. You know, as long as I keep on driving when I see that big DQ.

Beside my spilling my pee out of my cup all over my hand and bumping my head on the exam table when I laid down, it was an unremarkable visit. My doctor teased me about my pregnancy-induced clumsiness. (When I told B the story, he replied, "Oh, right, because you wouldn't spill your pee or bump your head when you aren't pregnant." Such support, I tell ya.)

Walking in to the office, I had diagnosed myself with preterm labor and the baby with the cord around his neck. I am fully aware that I am a mess, emotionally. In fact, I greeted my doctor by telling him he either needed to call me once a day to check on me, or prescribe me a little Xanax. He told me that I was out of luck on both counts. But he did notice my haircut and tell me it was cute, so I forgave him.

I am definitely not in preterm labor. There was a trace of blood in my urine, but my doctor wasn't overly worried, especially when I asked if it could be from shaving.

"Oh, you shaved today?" he asked.

I wanted to say, "Well, the least I can do is a little landscaping for you," but I just nodded. (Someone tell me that it's normal to shave before OB appointments, even when your belly is so big you gotta bust the mirror out...anyone?)

Baby Boy has a lot of hiccups and what I would characterize as excessive movement. I made the mistake of trolling some pregnancy chat rooms last night, and came to the conclusion that his cord was wrapped around his neck. My doctor assured me that movement is good, the cord thing is actually an old wives' tale, and 25% of babies have the cords wrapped around their necks, regardless.

Considering I've been mentioning his movement for months, he probably wanted to tell me to chill the hell out, too. But somehow, he refrained.

According to the exam, everything looks good. No dilation, no effacement. These Braxton Hicks contractions might be causing me pain, but that's all. I'm currently learning some Bradley methods, so they are good practice for the whole extreme-relaxation thing. Doc asked today if I still wanted to try to go natural. I gave him the standard answer I give everyone..."I want to go natural for as long as I can." And that's the truth.

I asked how he felt about me working an 11-hour day in my 36th week and he chuckled and told me to go for it, that it will make me go into labor more quickly. That makes those first few days of school a bit more motivating. Whatever works, right?

Keep your fingers crossed that the little man stays put for at least two more weeks. Just let me get my classroom set up and my own schedule set. Beyond that, bring on the labor vibes!

Because I don't give enough updates...

I'd love to post about something besides L's allergies and finding the perfect birthing center, but the thing is...my life completely revolves around those two things right now.

So. You are stuck with those topics at least for one more day. Sorry, kids.

I took L back to the allergist yesterday for his two-week follow-up appointment. The doctor checked out his ears, and "hmmm"-ed. He looked up Logan's nose, and "ah-ha"-ed. He looked in his throat, and "huh"-ed. He listened to him breathe, and smiled.

He patted L on the back and turned to talk to me. L grabbed a book off the shelf and sat on the floor to read it.

"He's a different kid," he said, smiling. "Have you noticed?"

When I said that I absolutely had, he pointed to L, reading quietly on the floor. "Look at him," the doctor said, "his behavior has completely changed."

Thinking back, I realized that the last time we were in, L was literally throwing himself on the floor, ripping pages in the books, and jumping off of the chairs.

Trust me, he still has plenty of energy, and today threw several tantrums, but he's three. He is not nearly as sensory-seeking since he's been off of the foods to which he is allergic.

He's still totally himself...he asked the librarian if she knew how to get a hold of Hermione today, and insisted on wearing one blue Croc and one red Croc to Sonic. (I let him, deciding I was fostering self-expression and creativity, and not social inappropriateness.)

I told the doctor that we hadn't given him Pulmicort (his preventative asthma medication) in five days and he hadn't coughed once. I figured that if his asthma was really allergy-induced, then if we took the allergens out of the picture, we shouldn't need the steroids. We'll see if Dr. Gina's prognosis is on within a week or so, once the Pulmicort is completely out of his system. The doctor seemed guardedly optimistic about that.

We agreed to keep him on this diet for another six months and I didn't shed a tear when he suggested it. It's not easy or cheap, but it's doable. It's amazing two weeks can change things, huh?

------------------------

Regarding yesterday's post, I did some further research on this hospital today. They have a printable birth plan online. When I saw it, I gasped. Some of the things they ask you to choose from include:

*labor positions I would like to try (standing, on back, on all fours, sitting)

*whether or not I would like to delay vaccinations (yes, yes, yes...I got SO much flak for delaying L's Hep vaccine)

*if I would like to delay infant procedures while I bond and/or breastfeed the baby

*if I want an epidural right away or prefer to wait and possibly go without it

*temperature and lighting preferences

*if I would like either silence or music in the room

*whether I want to delay cord clamping

....and more.

Guess where mama's going to deliver the little man. There is no question about it now!

I am scheduled to be induced at 39 weeks due to some complications with L almost getting stuck even though he was under seven pounds. However, I am starting to reconsider that because I understand it can make it more difficult to go without an epidural. I plan to ask my doctor about possibly inducing me by breaking my water instead of Pitocin, whether I can donate any cord blood if I delay the clamping, and whether I can get a heprin lock instead of an IV. Thanks to my blog-friends for all of those ideas!

Happy weekend! I'll return with a 32 week update and belly picture tomorrow!

Birthing balls, cord clamping, epidurals...oh, my!

Last night, we visited a hospital for a labor and delivery tour that was so un-hospital-esque that it was shocking. Not only is the building and everything in it brand new, there are only eight birthing rooms. Talk about personal.

Of course, the downside to that size of a medical center is that if the baby has to be on oxygen for more than 24 hours, they'll get moved to the local children's hospital. Also, if the rooms are full, they may have to move a mother in recovery in order to make room for a mommy-to-be in labor. However, the nurse giving the tour promised that those things rarely happen.

I've been researching more natural childbirth methods. When I gave birth to L, a nurse pressured me to get an epidural before I felt that I needed it. I gave in, but regretted that. I had almost every negative side effect that epidurals can cause, including my blood pressure dropping, L's blood pressure dropping, fever, severe nausea, and extreme itchiness. In order to counteract the itchiness, I received an IV of Benadryl, which made me so high that I couldn't play Uno. And it wasn't a good high. Just sayin.

So I'm reluctant to get an epidural this time, at least right away. While I'd love to go completely naturally, I wasn't able to find natural childbirth classes in my area and am limited to the information I am finding online or in books. Basically, my goal is to wait as long as possible before getting the epidural. My doctor insists that women in labor aren't typically told that it's too late to get an epidural these days, so I can wait much longer if I do choose to get one.

Some of my Twitter and blog-friends have also introduced me to natural concepts such as mother-led pushing, delayed cord clamping, and immediate baby to breast following the birth (even before the baby is cleaned up). I was thrilled to find that the hospital we visited is completely open to all of them. (And before you comment about the delayed cord clamping, yes, I realize it's very controversial and I am continuing to research it.)

The nurse explained that they have plenty of women who have completely natural births. She added that they have birthing balls and women are encouraged to be as comfortable as possible, as long as she and the baby are safe.

Like I explained before, my doctor is always extraordinarily open to whatever I request. No forceps? Fine. No vacuum? No problem. When I was in labor and that awful epidural wore off right before I pushed, he let me push when I needed to push.

The more I research these things, the more I realize that this is not the norm. I read tweets, blogs, and articles that hospitals are not open to natural childbirth methods. I hear that nurses want to be in charge during deliveries and refuse to listen to the mother.

When I asked the nurse at the hospital about writing a birth plan, she explained that it wasn't even necessary...that they'd follow the lead of me and my doctor and I'd be in charge.

I'm so interested in this subject and I'm interested in the experiences of other mommas out there. Have you had good experiences with more natural methods? Were you told it wasn't an option? Are there other things I should be researching before I go into labor? Good websites, books, etc? I'd appreciate any information or opinions I can get...namaste!

Monday updates

I had my 30-week (Ahh! Thirty weeks) checkup today and things are right on track. I have gained about 25 pounds and my belly is measuring right where it should be, even though I am fully aware I look huge....

The doctor gave me almost all good news: the painful Braxton-Hicks contractions I've been having are not a big deal...in fact, they give me license to put my feet up and drink a big glass of water when I get them. Heck, if I would have known that, I would have told him about those a long time ago..perhaps even before I had them. An excuse to put my feet up? Yes, please!

He did tell me that because I went into preterm labor with L at 34 weeks, I'm at a greater risk to do the same this time. (They were able to stop the labor and I was put on modified bed rest then...here's hoping that I make it to at least 37 weeks without this little man attempting to make an early appearance.) Luckily, I am at the appointments-every-two-weeks phase (!!!) so he'll be keeping a close eye on us both.

My doctor also is not comfortable with me doing kickboxing or turbokick classes anymore due to balance issues at this point. He prefers I stay off the elliptical since I had some soreness after I used it last tme. But he made it up to me by promising I could do spin classes until the end of my pregnancy.

In addition, he said he'll do anything I want for my delivery, including not using forceps or a vacuum and waiting to cut the cord until it stops pulsing. I am beyond lucky to have him for my doctor. We joke around through every appointment and I can talk to him about everything from being scared about trying to give birth without an epidural, to rocking out my bikini this summer, and he's incredibly supportive about everything.

L joined me for my appointment today (he adores my doctor too). Having him there reminded me that I cannot wait to see my boys together. He's excited to meet his brother and loves to hear his heartbeat at the appointments. For now, this is as close as he can get:


In other L news, we had an incredible morning. We spent a long time at Trader Joe's, where they gave us a list of gluten-free foods and we became giddy with our options! L was actually belting out "Hey, Soul Sister" through the store, and I may or may not have joined him from time to time. We came home with taquitos, nitrate-free hot dogs, soy cheese, soy yogurt, dairy-free butter, gingersnaps, and much more. And it didn't cost us an arm and a leg! Although, I'd have paid just about anything to make him happy, and our meals today did just that. Want proof? Check him out after two delicious meals today:


We're back on the upswing in our house and it feels wonderful. Thanks for the support on my last post...your comments touched me and made me cry. I'm so blessed to have such amazing blog-friends.

I hope your Monday was as happy as mine!

My officially-in-the-third-trimester update

I had my monthly OB visit this morning, which went incredibly well. Not only was L really, really good during the visit (he's usually his usual wild-man self), he got very quiet when we listened to his little brother's heartbeat and whispered, "That's Baby ______." (Nope, not giving up the name quite yet.) Both the doctor and I couldn't help but smile at that cuteness.

Other good news:

*I passed my glucose test!! I wasn't overly concerned about having gestational diabetes...I was more worried that I'd fail this test due to the large snow cone in which I indulged the day before the test. I was petrified that I'd get a false fail and have to take the awful 3-hour test. I am not fans of fasting or blood draws, so the thought of that was scary. But I passed with flying colors...apparently, you have to be below 130 at this lab, and my blood sugar was a 94!

*Unfortunately, my iron is a little low (big shocker, considering I was a pescetarian before I got pregnant and have to force myself to eat meat now). However, as my doc explained, "it's not scary low" and I can easily treat that with an iron prescription. Hopefully it will help with my fatigue, and not cause the constipation that he warned about.

*I have only gained about 23 pounds total. While I know this is more than some women gain at 40 weeks, I am really okay with that, considering last month I gained almost half that much.

*I got a prescription for a heartburn medication. Of course, I have been feeling much better the last few days (perhaps my letter to my heartburn scared it away?) but the doc and I decided that it's better to have the prescription in case the little beeotch should make a return appearance.

*I go back to see the doctor in about 2.5 weeks, when I will be 30 weeks along! 30 weeks! This pregnancy has flown by. I assume I will move to every-two-week visits at that point.

I'll be honest...I'm starting to panic about how I'll balance two kids. I've been working with L on waiting for things, and he is very independent. Sometimes, he even prefers to read or play alone. However, I am scared about how he'll handle the new baby and the attention I have to give him. Let's not even discuss how things will go when I go back to work because the thought of that makes me a bit twitchy. However, L gives me hope...just yesterday, he asked, "When the baby comes out, can I hold him?" I teared up, picturing that. Here's hoping the Hallmark moments outweigh the pulling-out-my-hair times.

I promise I'll post my 28 week belly photo this weekend!

Namaste!

Hate Mail

Dear Heartburn (or Acid Reflux or GERD or whatever alias you are using today),

Just so you know, I am onto you and your tricks. You started out so small that a few Tums could get you down. Then you strengthened yourself, but the Zantac did the trick. Now I've been forced to move onto Pepcid. You think you are so big and tough, beating the Extra Strength Pepcid, don't you?

You thought I didn't realize that even though the Pepcid usually takes most of the pain away, you could masquerade as a cold.

But I know it's you, causing the post-nasal drip, ear pain, nasal and chest congestion, scratchy throat, and constant need to clear my throat.

You are not fooling me, moving the pain to my back.

I am completely aware that it's you, keeping me up all. night. long. In turn, that increases my third trimester fatigue and for the record, that is all your fault.

You not only upset me, but my husband as well. For when I want to sleep on the couch because it's easier to sleep sitting up there, he feels a bit offended.

But you know what? I have a doctor's appointment this week. And several of my friends have given me the name of the ultimate weapon against you.

I am asking my doctor to write me a prescription for it, and you can't stop me, you big jerk. Your time here is limited.

So enjoy your last few days making me miserable. Because you are going down, beeotch.

With absolutely no love,
Gina