The Miracle of Birth

I see this picture...taken just days after he was born.

He's so small that the "coming home" outfit that we bought him just swallows him whole.

Now, nearly three weeks old, and almost a pound and a half heavier, I wonder...how did you really fit inside of me? I mean, really...can someone tell me how that was possible?

I thought that by looking at some pictures of him in the hospital that it would make more sense to me and seem more possible. Maybe it was more possible then becuase my stomach was still flabby and puffy from giving birth (not that it's rock hard or anything now, I'm just saying).

But even looking at these pictures of how small he was, I still marvel at the beauty and miracle of birth. Isn't it phenomenal?

The Best Laid Plans - My Birth Story, Part III

Need to catch up? Click to read Part I or Part II...

When we last left off, Jax's heart rate kept dropping with no discernible explanation for why and the dr was making the decision of whether to let me continue with labor or to prep the OR.

It didn't take her long to decide. And once she made the decision to take Jax via c-section, there was a flurry of activity within our L&D room. Nurses were rushing around everywhere, I could see Brent out of the corner of my eye putting on scrubs so that he could accompany me into the OR and I was being hooked up and unhooked to several different machines. You know, the same types of machines that I was already hooked up to but this time they were mobile.

It was literally less than 5 minutes later that they started wheeling me down the hall towards the OR. And that's when it hit me. That's when the tears started. I couldn't stop them or control them. I wasn't trying to cry, I really wasn't. But I was scared. Like really scared. When I say that I don't do well with needles, I mean that I REALLY don't do well with needles. The dr kept misunderstanding my tears and she kept apologizing to me, telling me again and again that we had tried to do it my way, and he just wasn't coming out and now for his health we had to take him this way.

Truth be told, I wasn't crying because I didn't get my way. I was literally scared shitless of being awake during the c-section procedure. Feeling the pressure as they took my baby out of me. Being awake to hear the dr ask for the scalpel was just my undoing. Literally my undoing.

We got to the OR way too fast for my comfort level, and when they wheeled me inside, they made Brent stand outside. One of the nurses told me that once they had me ready and prepped then they would be back to get him and bring him inside. So, there I am scared shitless and they WHEEL ME IN ALONE. ALL ALONE. More tears ensued.

I wasn't really aware of what was going on at this point. I know that there were two people at my head, a nurse and the anethesiologist, talking to me, working on increasing the epidural dosage to prep me for surgery and the poor nurse kept talking to me, trying to calm me down and calm my nerves. Not that it helped, but it was really sweet of her to try. And the whole time that they're doing all of this, someone is still pumping on my stomach and monitoring Jax's heart rate to keep it elevated.

Right about the time someone tells one of the nurses to go and get my husband and bring him into the OR, they test my lower extremities to see if the meds have kicked in and we're green for surgery. Imagine everyone's surprise when I let out a big old "OOOWWWWW!!!!" when they poke my left side. And it was loud, let me tell you. I don't know what they poked me with, but I felt all of it. And I really can't say who was more surprised - me or them. LOL!

Apparently, the left side of my body rejected (for whatever reason) the anethesia. My right side was nice and numb, but in case you didn't know, they can't do a c-section on only one side of your body. It has to go all the way across. The decision was then made to put me under general anethesia. Imagine my relief. It's what I had asked for all along, the total knock out, not hearing it all or feeling anything. I was told that it was too tricky to do it that way, but apparently we were at the point of no return and Jax was coming out right then and this was just going to have to be the way that it was. Period. No questions asked.

So the nurse that was leaving to go and get Brent was stopped cold by my cry of pain. Once it was announced that I was going all the way under, she had the unfortunate job of going outside to my stressed out husband and telling him that due to unforseen complications he would not be allowed inside the OR. She did tell him what happened so that he wouldn't worry too much, but he was crushed. Absolutely crushed. He wanted to be there to see it all (he's NOT a wuss like me!) and cut the cord and all that jazz, and was now being denied that privelege.

He went back to the L&D room where our family and friends were gathered and waited. Of course, he tells me that no sooner than he had taken his scrubs off and repeated the information to everyone than the dr walked in holding Jax out to him to hold. She knew what it meant to Brent to be there, and she later told us that she broke a few hospital rules herself taking the baby out of the OR so quickly to him. Of course, she was followed by the baby nurses, and Jax was in good hands.

After allowing Jax to be held for a while by his proud Dad and passed around to everyone in the room, the nurses stepped in to take him over to the baby station and start grading him on his Apgar levels/scores and cleaning him up a bit. It was at this point that Brent started asking nurses when he could go back to Recovery to see me. And that's when one of the well-meaning nurses told him that I didn't want to see him.

Which wasn't entirely true. She took my words out of context. At least she did go on and give him my full statement, which knowing me as well as he does, he totally understood. But I'm sure that at first he was still a little hurt to hear that I didn't want to see him. You see, when I came around in Recovery, I didn't know what had happened. I was really out of it, and when it all came rushing back guess what came back with the memories?

If you answered the tears, you'd be right. I was crying buckets again. Mainly because I was a little loopy and not sure of my surroundings and looking for a friendly face. Which you would think my husband's face would have worked nicely for that, right? Wrong. When the nurse asked me if I would like to see Brent, I said "No. It'll just make me cry harder. I need a few minutes."

I meant it in the nicest way possible. My throat hurt (later I figured out that this was from the breathing tube) and I knew that the tears were just making matters worse. The two nurses watching over me in Recovery were really trying to help calm me down, but I knew that the sight of either Brent or Jax at that moment was going to start the waterworks again.

To give me a little bit of credit, within 5-10 minutes I had calmed down enough and I was ready to see both of them. Brent came back to Recovery and visited with me for a few minutes, but didn't have Jax with him. Luckily, he had brought his phone along, and there were several pictures that I could view. Brent was crying, I was crying a little bit again, and we were two happy parents. I was sad that things didn't happen the way that we had wanted, but was completely over the moon that everything was ok. Jax was fine. And I was in some pain, but doing ok.

Brent explained to me at this point that the umbilical cord had been wrapped around Jax's neck. Just looped there once, and pretty loosely, so there was no great concern about any damage done, but it was the only thing that the dr could see that was preventing him from engaging and making progress towards the vaginal delivery that I had wanted.

About the time that he finished these explanations to me, the nurses needed to check out my "girl parts" and Brent opted to go back to the room (they were moving us into a regular post-delivery room) and oversee things there.

The nurses assured him that I would be in the room within about 15 minutes or so.
Except that's not what happened...stay tuned for the last twist in my birth story. I promise it's the end!

The Best Laid Plans - My Birth Story, Part II

Did you miss out on Part I? Read it here. Then come back!

After calming down a notch (or twenty) we headed off to the maternity ward of our hospital. We had finished making our phone calls, my parents were starting their long drives to get here in time, and Brent's parents were going to pick up and keep Tanner for us and collect our hospital bags for us. We had done all that we could do up to this point, and there really wasn't anything else to do except check in, settle in and have this baby!

We walked up to the nurses desk, and true to her word, my dr had already notified them of our pending arrival. They had a room all ready for us, and showed us where to go. I was instructed to disrobe, put on the hospital gown and get into bed - the nurse would be back in a few minutes to start the check-in procedures.

Check-in procedures. Yeah, read "start your IV." Which for me, was the second biggest thing that I was dreading. Yes, I know that you have to have an IV, as I've done this before. But I didn't like it then either. My biggest fear? Ending up in the OR for a c-section. That involved more than needles. There's scalpels, staples, breathing tubes, lines and incisions. Ugh. I'm getting the shivers just typing out the words.

Anyway, we explored our L&D room a bit - it was pretty large, and Brent was really taken with the baby's corner of the room where the warming tray and lights were already set up and all. He thought that was just the coolest thing ever! And he kept saying over and over "Babe - imagine, our baby boy is going to be here (gesturing with his hands to the baby bed) in a few hours!" There was a large bathroom with a double-size shower, and a closet full of laboring tools such as birthing balls, etc. Not to mention both a rocker and a couch that folded out to a full-size bed. Don't get all excited, Brent assured me that it wasn't nearly as comfortable as a real bed!

We settled in, me with my back naked for all the world to see, and waited for the nurse to come back. When she did, she settled in at her computer to input all sorts of information about both of us and the baby and our pregnancy thus far. She warned me ahead of time that she had 50 million questions, and she was right! It took almost an hour, but at the end of it the hospital knew everything about me, Brent and the baby that they could possibly need to know and more.
Then came the consent forms. Everything that I was being admitted for had risks associated with the procedure, from the aversion therapy to the induction process, and I had to sign my life away on three or four short forms. After signing the forms and consenting to the treatments, you're pretty much done. Signed, sealed and delivered. Or soon to be delivering?

The nurse had warned us before the game of twenty questions started that the aversion therapy session was going to run a bit later than they had originally thought. My dr wanted to have an anesthesiologist on standby in case I couldn't deal with the pain - just what I wanted to know right then, right? And the anesthesiologist on call that night had just gone into a surgery that would last about an hour. So, the dr wasn't planning on coming in until the good drug dr was ready, and that gave the nurses plenty of time to admit me and prep me.

By prep me, read "start IV line." I had pre-warned the nurse about my troubles with needles and sticks and she came prepared. I think that she brought not ONE extra nurse, but TWO! I guess she took me seriously, huh? One of the nurses, Becky, proclaimed to have an anti-fainting trick up her sleeve and wanted to try it. Her trick? To open up an alcohol wipe and hold it under my nose (kinda like smelling salts) to give me something else to focus on. I have to admit that it worked. I got a little weak-behind-the-knees at one point, but held on and pushed through it just like a big girl. I would say that I had my big-girl panties on, but I've already admitted to being nakey-nakey beneath my gown, so there goes that.

Once that was done we settled in to wait. Around 8pm my dr came in and told us that it was almost time to start. She offered me the epidrual from the get go, but I chose to try to make it through without anything. Don't ask me why, I honestly don't know. I mean, it's been my experience in the past that when you're in labor and someone offers you drugs, it's ok to say yes. I guess maybe since I technically wasn't in labor yet I didn't want to take them? Who knows.

Either way, she gathered the nurses, had me sign off on one last form and positioned the bed and Brent to where she wanted them to better assist me. Then she picked up that tube of gooey stuff that they squeeze on you during your sonograms and took the cap off. Yeah. The cap came off. And the ENTIRE contents of the bottle were then put onto my baby bump. I think that it was at this point that I started making jokes about the process being sort of like a "massage." The fact that the dr and both nurses started laughing should have clued me in. Not that I really thought that it would be like a massage for real, but I was trying to lighten the moment and it worked.

She rubbed the gooey stuff around on my belly and then positioned my bed all the way down so that she had a good position to start pushing Jax around and then she began. I would like to say that I completely remember all of the details about this process, but I don't. It hurt. A lot. But it wasn't unbearable. She pushed and pushed and then would pause and give me a rest while leaving pressure on my belly to prevent Jax from going right back. She gave me big breaks at each quarter turn that she completed, but I couldn't wait for the last quarter turn to be done and over with.

The great news is that the aversion therapy worked like a charm. Sure, it hurt a bit, but honestly it wasn't as bad as I had been expecting. I wouldn't recommend it over a picnic in a park, but it had to be done and it worked beautifully. Now that Jax was in the right position, head down, he needed to engage and not turn around. Which meant that my water had to be broken.

This is a small point that I missed during the previous talks with my dr. I knew that being induced meant having Pitocin to initiate contractions, that much I knew.

What I didn't know is that before they start the Pitocin, they break your water. Or maybe I should say with my unique situation that meant that they needed to break my water first. This would prevent Jax from turning back around into his favorite position (transverse) due to the lack of fluid allowing him to turn. You see, when she did my sono back in her office, she also measured my fluid levels. Apparently you have to have a good amount of amniotic fluid left in order for aversion therapy to have a better chance of succeedng. Normally the week before your delivery date, your fluid level measures around 10. I had 18. (I'm not entirely sure about what the water is measured in - Liters, Gallons, whatever - so I'll refrain from saying what it is. Either way, normal was 10 and I was at an 18.)

I'll be perfectly honest here and tell you that her breaking my waters hurt a HELL of a lot more than the aversion therapy. I meant a LOT more. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that while she was down there trying to speed things along, she also stripped my membranes. Then she used the big "crochet hook" to break my bag. Or maybe I should say tried to break my bag.

Some fluid came out, but not the big gush that she was expecting with my fluid levels. She didn't think that she got a good puncture out of the procedure, so she left me for an hour to see what would happen and then come back to check me in an hour. In the meantime they started the Pitocin on me to get my contractions going.

Right before all the excitement started, my friend T (MOH) got to the hospital so she was there for all the procedures and to help Brent take my mind off of things while the hour long wait passed. Brent's parents had also been by to visit for a minute before all the "fun" began so that we had our things. We were sending texts out to family and friends to give updates, and knew that we were just playing a waiting game at this point.

My dr returned to check me an hour later. As she had suspected earlier, she did not get a good break on my water, so we did the procedure again. It wasn't really any less painful the second time around, but it was slightly better since she didn't have to strip my membranes. This time, when she was done, there was the expected big rush of fluids out and the nurses proceeded to "pack me" with towels. I guess that I should mention that I was not allowed out of the hospital bed from this point forward as they were having troubles keeping the monitors where they needed to be.

Even though the nurses were good about moving me around from side to side and trying various positions to help me labor better/easier, I got stiff as the night wore on. I was having contractions regularly, like every three minutes, but I wasn't really feeling much pain. Of course, when the nurses checked me, I was only dilated to 2 cm. I was making progress, and Jax was staying where he was supposed to be, but it was slow going.

By 1 or 2am, I was feeling the contractions and breathing through them. My Mom and step-dad had arrived right after 11pm, and my Dad and step-mom had also gotten there. As my Dad has his own motorhome, and that's what they had traveled in, they left early on to get some rest. Around 1-2am, I had decided that I was ready for the epidural. I was measuring 3 cm at that point, and my dr had already signed off on me receiving the epidural. The anethesiologist came in and got to work. Now, I don't remember much about the process of receiving the epidural with my daughter's birth. Mainly because the anethesiologist had an assistant who had rather large breasts (very buxom) and all that I remember was that she grabbed my face and planted it into her cleavage. So I was a little distracted through the actual epidural process that time around.

There was no assistant this time, and I was very aware during the process. It didn't really hurt, but wasn't completely comfortable. At this point though, I wanted some relief and some sleep. And I really wanted some food. I had last eaten at lunch, and I was allowed all the ice chips, water and popsicles that I could eat. But let me tell you, those popsicles were a lifesaver! Just not really all that filling.

By 2am, everyone else had left except for Brent. My Mom and step-dad and T had left to go to our house to get some sleep. My step-sister was the only person left, and she came in for a bit to visit until I started to drift off. Brent and I both tried to get some sleep, but with nurses coming in every 30 minutes to check this or that, sleep is hard to come by.

Around 4am, things started to get really interesting. The baby's monitor had started going off every 5-10 minutes. Now, when it would go off, nurses would rush into the room and re-adjust the monitors on me to try to get a better reading on his vitals. Around 5am, the dr had been notified and she visited us to check out the situation for herself.

When she did a pelvic check on me, she noted that I was dilated to 4cm, but the baby had not engaged or descended very far into my pelvic canal. And even though the Pitocin had been administered all night, they kept having to shut it off when the baby's heart rate would drop. So I was having to start back at level 2 on the Pitocin every hour or so. In other words, we weren't making much progress.

She said that she would give me another hour to try to make better progress and she increased the Pitocin to 10 to try to help me out, but warned me that if in an hour I hadn't made progress that we would have to discuss other options. The baby was not responding well to either the positions, the Pitocin or whatever and his and my well-being had to be put first.

During the hour that passed, the nurses tried all sorts of positions for me. Although I'd been given an epidural, I still had control of my legs and could help them move me around. We tried my left side, my right side, on my hands and knees.

But no matter which position that they put me into, within a few minutes Jax's heart rate would fall again and they would all rush in to massage my belly. When I realized that the dr rubbing my belly and making me rock back and forth on the bed was sort of like CPR through my belly, I understood that the situation was maybe a little more serious than they were totally telling us.

Don't get me wrong. Our dr was honest with us from the get go. But I think that she was trying not to alarm me or cause me any distress that might also affect the baby at that point. But when I got what was happening and that unless she was rubbing/rocking my belly his heart rate was falling, I knew that we were in a little bit of trouble. I knew then that thiings were serious and we were going to have to make some serious decisions. Fast.

The Best Laid Plans - My Birth Story, Part I

You know by now that I'm the type of person who likes to know what's going on. I like to have a plan, even if it's just a loose one. It doesn't have to be intricate and detailed, but I like to have a general idea of what's happening. Call it controlling, call it Type A personality, call it what you will - that's just me. And I approached my upcoming birth no differently. I didn't do a lot of research, as I'd done this thing before, and my vision really was just that things would go a lot like last time. You know, I would have some contractions, feel the time getting closer, my water would break, then we'd go to the hospital and have a baby.
Simple. To the point.

My "birth plan" if you could call it that, had two main bullet points: I wanted drugs and Brent wanted to cut the cord. Beyond that, the rest was just details that I didn't have any need or desire to know about. Easy, peasy.

I'd like to tell you that I got exactly what I had envisioned or what I wanted. That would be a GREAT story to tell, even if it would be a bit on the boring side. Boring is ok with me, by the way. But I don't have a boring birth story. I got the exact opposite of my "birth plan." I had excitement, drama, high emotions. You name it. I had it.

So here goes. My birth story.

It all started innocently enough. I wrote here about some problems with increased swelling, which prompted an emergency visit to the drs office to be check for pre-eclampsia. If you read that post, you know that they checked me out and sent me home, with instructions to come back the next day for my regular weekly appointment. It was my 39 week appointment. I went home a bit disappointed, but relieved that nothing major was wrong with either the baby or myself.

The next morning, it was all that I could do to get out of bed. I was literally dragging as far as energy levels were concerned, but I could feel the need to go into work for as long as I could so that I could wrap some things up. Deep down inside, I just knew that things needed to be as wrapped up as I could get them today, just in case. I went to work, did my thing, and was relieved to get finished by 11am. I knew that staying until my normal time of 1pm was out of the question, as my legs were starting to swell right above my ankles already and all the "fun" stuff the day before happened between noon and 1pm. My goal was to be on my way home before noon, and I was able to leave around 11am.

I came home, settled into bed, and took a quick nap. My alarm went off at 1pm so that I could wake up with enough time to make myself some lunch before a 2pm conference call that I couldn't miss. I made a grilled cheese sandwhich and had some Pringles, and then dialed in for my call. It ended around 2:30pm, which worked out well for my 3pm drs appt.

Just as I got into my car to leave the house for my appt, Brent called to tell me that he was running late. He had been sent home earlier during the day due to lack of deliveries needed that day, and had gone to lunch with his Dad while I took my nap. While at lunch, his boss called him back in to work, and he had to go in to make two "quick" deliveries. Those deliveries ended up taking almost 2 hours, and he was calling to tell me that although he was done with his last delivery he was about 30-45 minutes away. He was rushing as fast as he safely could manage to make it to the drs office in time, but realized that being there at 3pm was out of the question.

I encouraged him to drive safely and take his time. I reminded him that the week before we had had to sit in the waiting room for an hour before being seen in the back, and that he probably had plenty of time.

Yeah, you know how this is going to go, right? When I walked into the drs office to check in, there was one other person in the waiting room. And I wasn't early. Yeah.

I spent ten minutes in the front before being called back. I texted Brent to let him know and proceeded to be weighed and measured. You know, the fun stuff. Turns out that it's not so much fun to get weighed during week 39. The scale was showing that I had gained 5 POUNDS in one week. Now, for some people maybe this isn't alarming. But for someone that had gained a total of 18 pounds through the WHOLE pregnancy, this was alarming. Then I looked down at my feet and knew the reason for the big gain. My friend, water. Once again, despite laying down for the past 4 hours, my legs were swollen all the way up to my knees.

Which meant that I had to pee in a cup again. I was slightly more talented at accomplishing this task than I had been the day before, and managed not to pee on my hand. Probably just luck, not skill. While they tested my protein levels again, my blood pressure was checked (normal) and I was all set to wait another 20 minutes to see the dr. Thus buying Brent a little more time.

And she walked in 5 minutes later. It was REALLY not my day!

We talked for a few minutes (as I hadn't seen her the day before) and discussed that although the swelling was uncomfortable and slightly alarming, all other signs of pre-eclampsia were missing - which was a relief. Then she took out her tape to measure me. And got quiet. When she started feeling around my belly in different spots and making "hmmm" sounds, I couldn't take it any longer and I asked what was wrong.

She said maybe nothing, but had I felt any large movements in the past few days. I answered honestly that the last day or so there had been a decrease in movement altogether, but had felt nothing that I would classify as "big." This apparently was the wrong answer. She told me that she wanted to hook me up to the fetal monitor to count movements, but that first she needed to take a sonogram to confirm her suspicions.

As I got settled into the sono room, she confided in me that she felt that Jax had "disengaged" and was free floating again. Further bad news revealed that he was no longer in the head down position favorable for birth, but that she thought that he was sideways. Now, if you've been following along for any length of time, you might recall that him being breech has been my biggest fear all throughout this pregnancy. I don't really know why, other than normally when babies are in the breech position, it leads to a C-section for delivery, which I would be trying to avoid at all costs. Me and needles are NOT friends. Ergo, me and major abdominal surgery would also NOT be friends.

When I said something about him being breech, the dr was "nice" enough to correct me and explain that Jax was not breech - breech is feet down. Jax was apparently nice and happy in a transverse position - totally sideways across my abdomen. And Jax wasn't JUST transverse, he was also backwards, with his butt to my cervix. The most completely unfavorable position for birth possible. Any type of birth, by the way, even a C-section from this postion was almost impossible to safely deliver as there would be nothing for the dr to grab onto to pull him out once she had me opened up. At least, not without "feeling around in there to find something" and possibly doing some damage to me.

At this point, I asked her to stop talking. I was FREAKING OUT!

She concentrated on the sonogram pictures that were coming up, and was happy to report that she was right and Jax was transverse. And backwards. I'm not sure, but I think that she was expecting me to be happier for her being right. That didn't really happen.

By now she could see that I was freaking out, not that I was trying to hide it or anything, and she suggested that we call Brent. I had mentioned when she first came in that he was on his way but running late. As he's only missed one appt throughout the whole pregnancy, she understood my need to have him there, and wanted him with me before we started discussing options. Since she wanted me to spend half an hour or so on the fetal monitors anyway, I could call him and tell him to hurry and then we could do the monitoring while we waited on him to arrive.

Naturally, getting a phone call that he needed to hurry because the dr wanted to discuss "our options" was enough to send his speedometer up another level. It was already running pretty high. He arrived in less than 5 minutes, much to my relief. I tried to explain what I knew at that point, but as it was very limited information he wasn't satisfied and we were both anxious to see the dr.

Luckily, she came in right away to talk to us. She explained to Brent again what was going on with Jax's position and why delivery of any type would be difficult.

Then she started in on our options. Since I was at 38 weeks, 6 days I could technically be induced the next day or midnight that night since that's when I would hit the important 39 week mark. (It's a hospital rule or something.) But that option wouldn't be recommended as he wasn't in the right position. She strongly encouraged one of two other options.

Option 1 was to allow her to attempt to turn Jax around into the right position. It's called manual aversion therapy or something like that. She explained that the process to us, she would admit us into the hospital right away then come down once I was all checked in and attempt to turn Jax into the right postion from the outside. This mainly involved pushing him around through my stomach with the use of sonogram gel to make it slick and "easier" on me. She explained the risks of this option being that he could turn back around before I went into labor, or that Jax might not respond favorably to being pushed around and she would have to go in and do an emergency C-section.

Oh, and turning him around meant turning him in a 3/4 circle since he was backwards. You see, his head was on my right side, so she would have to turn him head up, then head to the left, and then finally head down towards the pelvic region. Just so you get the full picture.

The pros to this option would be that the aversion would work and Jax would get into the right position. That I would stay admitted to the hospital and she would induce me immediately in order to hopefully keep him from turning back around. I might be able to deliver normally (vaginally) and stay far away from the OR.

Option 2 was to schedule my C-section for early the next morning. I could go home and relax for the night (as if!) and come back at like 4am to be admitted and readied for surgery that might be a little more difficult due to his position.

To sum it all up for you, all roads seemed to be leading to C-section. Because my dr was VERY honest about the slim chance that I had of the vaginal delivery that I was wanting. She was willing to let me attempt it, but also honest enough to tell me that it might not be doable. We both knew that the options were really broken down into two steps, with the first step being doing the aversion therapy to turn him. Either way, letting her attempt that first would give Jax and I a better chance, no matter if the birth was vaginal or C-section. After only a moment of eye contact between the two of us, with no words spoken, we agreed to let her do the turning and increase our chances at a safer delivery.

She released us from the office and told us to move our cars around to the front of the hospital and go straight to the Maternity Services desk and check in.

Wait. What? You mean NOW? As in, right now, do not pass Go, do not collect $200 or your bags from the house NOW? Oh. And that's when the tears started.

As I left the drs office, I was trying really hard not to cry, but totally not succeeding at it. The tears were streaming down my face and Brent was trying unsuccessfully to console me. We made a few phone calls - parents, work, friends and such - and I cried through it all. As I talked with my Mom, I totally lost it and wailed out "I know that it's going to be OK, but this is NOT how I pictured this happening?!?! This isn't what I wanted!"

Because you know, it matters what I want at this point...yeah, not so much.

The Best Laid Plans - My Birth Story, Part IV

If you need to catch up with where the rest of us are, click to read Parts I, II, or III of my birth story.

When the nurses pulled my gown up and my whatever was covering my "girl parts" down, they were apparently checking both the incision and the bleeding issue. I was packed down with towels and those monster pads pretty well, and when they pulled everything off, I saw the concern on their face.

Apparently there was a lot of blood. Like a LOT a lot. Not just a little more than normal, but a LOT. And mixed in with the blood were some clots.

Now clotting is nothing new to me, I usually clot during my normal periods. And clotting (as it was explained to me by the nurses) is a normal reaction in the body to the trauma of the wound created during the c-section. And you normally want your body to clot. Except after having a c-section? For whatever reason, after birth you DON'T want clots.

If you don't want clots at all, you definitely don't want large clots. Which is
what I started passing. Let me describe the size to you like they told me. Baseball size.

Yeah.

The one nurse called for back-up in the form of Becky, the head nurse to confirm what she was seeing. Becky rated it more the size of a golf ball, which is better, but still pretty large. And then, sorry if this is TMI, right about the time that they're all standing around staring at me, they changed my dressings/pads and then I passed an even larger clot. Becky rated this one the size of a baseball for sure.

So the dr was called back. Because apparently this is a serious thing. When I finally got someone to give me a second and give me some answers, I was told that if the clotting couldn't get under control then I would have to go back into the OR for a second surgery.

You can imagine my reaction. Yep, you got it. Tears. I didn't WANT another surgery, dammit. I'd already had one that I didn't want - there was no way in hell that I was having another one. The dr came and looked me over, ordered a new Pitocin drip to help my uterus contract from the inside, and assigned two nurses to stand there massaging my uterus from the outside.

Let me let you in on a little secret. If you've gone through aversion therapy, almost 10 hours of labor, and then had major abdominal surgery the very LAST thing that you want is someone massaging your uterus from the outside. But I didn't really get a vote at this point. And let's face it. A little pain and discomfort was WAY worth avoiding another surgery, right? Right.

I don't really know how much time passed. I was given all the ice chips that I could eat and at some point while they were monitering me (I'm guessing after several hours had passed and I should have been out long before now) a nurse came and asked if I wanted to see my Mother. Actually, she laughed and told me that my Mom was demanding to see me and didn't care if I wanted to see her or not. You see, I'm still her little girl no matter how old I am, and she needed to see for herself that I was ok.

I can't remember if Brent came back for a second visit before or after my Mom came in, but like I said, time kinda stood still for me back in Recovery while we waited to see if the Pitocin and the massage therapy were going to do the job or not. My loved ones were very concerned. Not only was there the threat of another surgery, but by this point I had lost a lot of blood and there was some talk about a transfusion being needed. Another thing that I didn't want. (This really wasn't my day of getting what I wanted, was it?)

Luckily for me, I made progress, enough to be moved out of Recovery and into my room to be around our family and friends. Unfortunately for me, once they moved me and got me settled all that water and ice chips came back up. Like repeatedly. I'm pretty sure it was at this point that I banned all pictures being taken of me. I felt like death warmed over, was sure that I smelled and looked like it, and didn't want any record of my appearance at that moment. Call me vain, I don't care.

They gave me a shot of something for the vomiting/nausea and another shot of something for the pain, and slowly by surely the room kind of cleared out for a bit. I think that I got a little nap in and once I was awake again, I felt like a new woman. I was ready to hold my baby, ready to see my family and friends that had been with us all night and through the long day (it was past 4pm at this point, and I went in for the c-section at 6am). Our other kids showed up, our family welcomed in the new addition and I was cleared for a dinner of clear liquids.

Keep in mind that the last time I had eaten was 28 hours earlier. I was thrilled to order that chicken broth, apple juice and Jell-O. It was the best dinner I had eaten in a LONG time, I tell you! Once my dinner arrived, most of our guests left us to get some rest and we settled in for the first night with our new little one.

Of course, before I could go to bed, the nurses had me get up out of bed and walk around...they don't mess around I tell you. They want you up and moving as soon as possible! I'll admit that although I didn't like the first nurse that made me get up, she was right and each time that I got up afterwards was easier and easier.

Besides, the sooner that I could make it to the bathroom and back, the sooner my catheter could be removed and I could take a shower! Woohoo! It's the small things, I tell you.

So that's it. That's my birth story. I know that it was long (Sorry - you know that I'm long-winded), but believe me living through it felt even longer. Of course, here I am almost two weeks later and Mother Nature is working her magic on me and making it not seem all that bad. Sure, I didn't get the delivery that I wanted, but the dr assures me that if I did want to have another little kiddo, that I would be a good candidate to try for a vaginal delivery at that point instead of having to do another c-section. It doesn't seem as bad now as it did then, and I have a beautiful baby boy in return...I couldn't be happier!











Jaxon Paul - Born July 23rd at 6:13am

A "Little" Scare

So, I had a little scare today. If you've been reading along, then you know that I've been having some troubles with swelling in my right foot. Well, the past fews days, the swelling has evened out a bit - still worse on my right foot, but also starting to be more on my left foot.

And it's been starting earlier and earlier in the day - which has Brent absolutely positive that I should be on full bed rest. His case in point? I didn't really have a problem with swelling over the weekend or Monday when I stayed home and off of my feet. But we'll see what the Dr's official ruling on that is tomorrow at my check-up.

But I digress. Today, I had to go to work and the swelling in my feet was really bad by 9am. I had a meeting with some people from our Corporate offices that I really couldn't have missed, so I went in to work with the knowledge that I would be leaving at 1pm, AKA my normal time. But by 11am, the swelling had reached my knees.

And that's never happened before.

So I had one of the guys drag a chair in to the conference room so that I could put my feet up until it was time for me to go home. That seemed to help for a litle bit, but within the hour, I had a new symptom. Something like heart palpitations. Or flutters. Whatever you want to call it.

After an hour going by and them still happening and the swelling not getting that much better, I headed to the house. And on my way home, I called my Dr. Since this made for two new symptoms, I was supposed to call and let them know, even knowing that I had an appt the next day. When I got home, I immediately laid down and actually propped my feet up above my heart level (I read somewhere that's best). Want some proof? I remembered to take a picture this time:

Yeah, my feet don't normally look like that. Neither do my calves, for that matter. I mean, you can sort of still see the curve of my calf on my left leg, but it's totally gone on my right leg. I should have taken one of my ankle - there's so much swelling that it's starting to "lip" over my ankle area, if that makes sense.

The problem with an almost 39 week pregnant woman laying like that? Yeah, all of the baby weight came crashing down on my diaphragm and I was totally breathless and almost unable to breathe. Not so smart. I stayed laying down the entire hour until the Drs office called me back.

And then I heard these words "We'd like to see you right now."

As in come in right away, do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

Scary, right? Right. I was a little freaked out, and so was Brent. And then we calmed down and took it easy the rest of the drive to the hospital/dr office. That was after we sped through the neighborhood and I had to yell at him that he was stressing me out more than anything else at that point. He laughed and wondered about how he would be when it was really time to go for real. I wasn't laughing so much.

So we got to the drs office, did the waiting game and she took my blood pressure. It was perfect - 120/80. But after checking the swelling and seeing how bad it was, she wanted a urine sample to test my protein. Brent freaked out and Wendy, the nurse, had to calm him down a little bit. Don't worry, the story ends as well as it can. My protein levels were great, blood pressure normal, and no dizziness. So I was sent home and put to bed. I have been given specific instructions about staying in bed all evening, taking it easy, drinking LOTS of water, and other such instructions.

I keep my normal appt tomorrow since I didn't really see the Dr today. So, keep your fingers crossed and send positive thoughts my way, if you don't mind. Thanks!

The World's Most Annoying Question

I believe that I've found a winner - I'm serious! I actually think that there are several annoying questions that people ask on a regular basis, but this time I've found the mother of all annoying questions.

Before I do the "big reveal" of which question is the MOST annoying, let's do a countdown of sorts on those other questions that annoy me why don't we?

"Are you getting married today?" Yes, this is asked while you're running into Target/Wal-Mart/Insert-your-local-grocery-store-name-here after your hair appt with your veil in your hair. Or maybe if you run to Whataburger to grab a quick bite at lunch. I mean, really people? Really? Just once, I wished that I had told someone no, that this is just what I liked to wear on Saturdays while I do my grocery shopping. But I didn't. Too nice.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" This is asked AFTER you have your baby (since before you have it this questions is completely ok to ask as people can't see inside your belly). But after you have your baby, people really should take a minute and look for obvious clues before asking such a ridiculous question. Look at the clothes. Look at the pattern of the material on the stroller/car seat. Look to see if there are any blankets or toys that might give you a clue and keep you from embarassing yourself or pissing off the mother. Just because my daughter didn't have hair until she was 3 years old, she was OBVIOUSLY a GIRL people! She was always dressed in pink, purple, flowers or butterflies. Boys don't wear those things. I'm just saying.

"How many people in your party?" This annoying question is asked typically as you walk into a restaurant and greet the hostess to be seated. It makes sense to ask if the place is busy, or if several parties walk in at the same time. In those instances, I can understand that the hostess/seater might have a hard time telling how many people she/he needs to seat. But when I'm meeting my husband for an early dinner or a late lunch, the place isn't busy, or we're the only two people walking in the door. I mean, use your eyes lady! Yes, there are just two of us standing here in front of you waiting to be seated. I guess that we could be meeting other people, but that's rare. We like our own company. Just kidding. Just once I'd really like to reply back to her with a "No, there are three of us." And then just smile at her, not explain further and wiat to see what happens. But I've never done that. Once again, too nice.

So now that you have an idea on what other questions I feel are annoying, here's the #1 question that's annoying me right now: (drumroll please)

"How about having that baby today?" or "When are you going to have that baby?" or "You're still here?" (co-workers when they see me at my desk) or any of the other 5 million variations of this question that some people are sending me by text daily.

Let me explain. Just like my doctor can't accurately predict when this baby will be born (due dates ARE an estimate, people!) I have NO CONTROL over when this little one comes out of my body. None. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Nothing. Are you noticing a pattern here? As much as I'd like to have some control over this process, and believe me I've done my fair share of talking to him, taking him cool places to urge him to come on out and see for himself, and other such activities, when it all comes down to it we're on HIS time table here.

And asking me each and every day when I'm going to get this show on the road or some other variation of that same question is really starting to annoy me.

Oops, I don't know what happened, but apparently I hit the Publish button - sorry!

Where was I? Oh yeah. Don't ask me that question anymore, please. Understand that I have no control over this process. And you texting me each and every day doesn't really do anything to speed up the process. It really doesn't. So either you don't trust me to call you when the time comes, so you feel compelled to check on me every single day, or you just enjoy reminding me several times a day that I haven't given birth yet. That I'm STILL pregnant.

Believe me when I say this: pregnant women, especially those past 37 weeks don't really need to be reminded that they're pregnant. We kind of can't forget. There's daily reminders, trust me.

So for now, to help me out, lose my text number. Please. Brent has made the suggestion that I should just not answer the texts anymore, but I don't really think that will help anything. I think that if I don't answer texts, then they'll think that there's a reason that I can't answer texts and they'll start calling. Worse than texts? Phone calls each and every day with those same questions. At least by text I can keep it short and sweet with a simple "Not yet."

Do you understand what I'm asking? Do you get that I still love you, even though I would like some peace and quiet for a few days, please? You do? Great! Thanks so much! Hugs and kisses!

Would You Try This???

So, I was talking with my step-mother last night about the "big" news. You know, the news that I'm finally making progress with all of these false labor pains. Not that 1cm is that much progress, but she was all excited and I didn't have the heart to calm her down. I mean, she's gonna be a grandma again, you know? If I raided her of her excitement at this time, it would be like killing a puppy in front of my eight-year-old.

And I don't play that way.

Instead, I let her have her excitement. And her excitement was even contagious to my Dad who called to tell me that he would be "at the farm" this weekend (that's two hours further from me in the wrong direction, since you didn't know) and that I should just "call him" when all the excitement was over.

He was teasing of course. He was actually calling to make sure that I had the farm cell phone number since the reception out there in the boonies along the Louisiana/Texas border is whack and he has to have a special cell phone JUST to get service there. I assured him that he would be called, if needed.

Anyway, back to my story. So at some point during all of the texting back and forth, my step-mom asks me this question:

Helpful SM: Hey - would you be willing to try maternity acupressure to induce your labor now that it's safe?

Ok, so I'll admit to being a moron for about 3o seconds or so because my gut reaction was "Hell no! Dude, you know that I have thing for needles!" Yeah, I call everyone Dude regardless of gender. And yes, for a moment or five I got acupressure and acupuncture mixed up. I'm silly like that. You all love me anyway, right? Thanks!

Once I realized my mistake, I texted her back for more information on the subject. She sent me this link and told me to do a search on youtube.com for videos of how to do it. I actually checked it out and now I'm intrigued. And I'm wondering if anyone else out there has heard of such a thing. More importantly, do you know if this works???

Because I have to be honest here. If my research proves that it's entirely safe for me to try, and the videos seem to be pretty self-explanatory, then I might be willing to actually try this shiz. So help me out please and tell me that you know something about this. Or know someone who tried it and it did/didn't work.

I'd REALLY love to hear some stories!

Thirty Eight Weeks

Almost there, right? Can I get a BIG Woo Hoo??? Thank you SO much!

I won’t lie – getting to this point has been a slight challenge. Or rather, this week has been challenging. Whichever way you choose to look at it, this week’s been rough. In fact, my Mom and I were talking about that just last night when I called to tell her how our dr visit went and she remarked how this pregnancy has seemed a "bit" harder for me than my last one was. Well, yeah, I’m EIGHT years older. I was only 25 when I had my daughter. Those years really add up and make me wonder about how the ladies that are in their upper 40’s do this. It’s physically, mentally and emotionally challenging and draining and they’ve got buckets of kudos from me for doing it at that age. I just can’t imagine.

Anyway, so thirty eight weeks. Or 435 weeks by my own internal calendar – LOL! I’m nearly at the end, and loving that pretty soon I’ll be holding my sweet baby boy in my arms. I know that I should enjoy these last few days (I’m being optimistic by not saying weeks) of having him all to myself, because things will rapidly change once he’s on the outside. He’ll be noisier for one – and smellier! Just kidding. But seriously, we’re just on pins and needles to meet the little guy.

And we had a good visit at the doctor’s office yesterday, I’m telling you – I might be onto something with the negative jinxing thing. Maybe you all should try it out for yourselves and let me know if it works for you too! We got good news all around, and although labor could come any day or wait two more weeks, I’m making progress and that’s always encouraging. Here’s my stats for you:

Weight? 1 lb gain – marking a total of 18 pounds

Stretch marks? Some VERY faint silver lines on the side of my hips. That I can’t swear weren’t already there from my previous pregnancy.

Belly Button – innie/outie? I don’t even remember the days when I didn’t see my belly button through EVERYTHING that I wear.

Movement? He’s been moving and grooving all week long. In fact, he paid me back pretty good last night after the dr visit. Apparently he didn’t appreciate the intrusion into his world…

Swelling? Yes, and still mainly on my right foot. I forgot to mention last week that I finally took my wedding rings off. They’re not too tight all day, every day, but wearing them for short periods of time on my pinky finger and them flying off (in the middle of Ross) since they don’t fit that well on that finger wasn’t the smartest idea either. So I put my wedding band only on a chain that I wear around my neck since it seemed too awkward looking with both my engagement ring and my wedding band on there.

Contractions/Signs of Labor? LOTS of progress in this department. I’m totally softened, not effaced yet, my cervix has moved to the anterior (which is where you want it), he’s at a -2 station and I’m dilated to 1 cm.

Other Issues? Apparently my pelvic bones haven’t just completely softened in preparation for labor, but they’re actually starting to separate. If you’ve never experienced this (I didn’t with my first pregnancy) it’s not fun. It’s very painful. If I sit too long, or lay in one position too long (which not many positions are comfortable with this condition) I can barely walk when I stand up. And the back pain that accompanies it is just awful. This is a new thing, like within the last two days kind of new.

Sounds exciting, huh? Yeah, we were pretty pumped to hear about all of the progress that he’s made since our last visit last Thursday. But then again, I stayed at 1cm with my daughter for two weeks before labor actually started. So dilation doesn’t always mean anything, kind of like losing your mucus plug - it could mean that labor is imminent or it could still be a week or more away. I’m excited to know that my discomfort and the pains that I’m experiencing are FINALLY doing something other than making me uncomfortable, but I know that it could still be a ways away. But it’s encouraging still!

Here’s some belly shots for you…getting bigger each day…and lower – YEA! Yeah, talking about the pelvic separation thing, the doctor actually brought me to tears at the visit yesterday when we “discovered” that I was starting the early stages of this phenomenon. Apparently not all women go through it, but I know that this lady has been having troubles with it, and I don’t want to go through too much more of it. In my mind, and I’m not a medical professional, so keep in mind that my opinion is JUST my opinion, it’s sort of like a baby’s soft spots on the skull. The bones softened and prepare the pelvis for the HUGE baby coming through and can be very sensitive to the touch. As evidenced by me coming up off of the exam table and screaming with pain. But apparently my “soft spots” aren’t just soft, they might have a little space in between. Thus the pain. Since I’ve been saying for weeks now that I feel like my pelvis is being torn in two and nothing’s been mentioned about it by my doctor, I didn’t really think anything of it yesterday morning when I had the trouble walking. Yeah.

Apparently this effects how you can position yourself to sleep at night. Literally the ONLY place in the house (and I tried them ALL last night) is on the couch in that half sitting/half laying position is comfortable enough for me to fall asleep. Not fun. But, like I keep telling myself, it’s progress! Keeping my eye on the prize and knowing that I’ll be holding him soon will get me through anything, I’m sure!

I think that’s it for this week. We’ve already talked about my boobs. We’ve talked about my progress towards labor. I showed you my belly. Yep, that about wraps it up for me! I’m getting SO excited!!!!

My Cups Runneth Over

No, not that sort of cup - I'm referring to a much more personal sort of cup. Yeah, now you've got it - THOSE cups!

And it's something that I didn't even notice right away. Partly because I wore a loose-fitting babydoll style of dress with leggings today. And partly because of the lack-of-sleep-frying-my-brain thing that I'm rocking in full force these days. I mean, on two and a half hours of sleep who would notice that their bra was a bit snug at 7am? Not me!

But notice it I did when I thought that I had a hair tickling the back of my arm. Please tell me that I'm not the only person who absolutely cannot stand to have a hair on the back/side of my top brushing against my arm. It will literally drive me crazy until I have to find it and pluck the offender off of my shirt and away from my bare arm. I can't be the only one, I just know it. But back to my story.

So I was hunting for the offending curl and couldn't find it. I ran my hands along the side of my torso, looking for the beast, when I noticed that there was a little pudge around my bra strap. Huh - that's odd, I thought to myself. Then, even though there was no offending hair on the other side of my body, I checked my side bra strap over there as well. Yep, definite pudge.

There are only two options in my mind at this point - I'm either putting on too much weight, whcih cannot possibly be the case as I'm underweight for your average pregnancy, or I've got a little more up top than I had the previous day. And yes, it literally changes overnight.

What do you think my next move was?

If you guessed to check my cups - you'd be right! And boy did I get a nice surprise - there they were literally overflowing from my zebra-striped bra (sorry if that's TMI!). And do you know the first thought that popped into my head? "Well hello Ladies!" Yeah, said exactly like Angelina Jolie says about the cars in Gone in 60 Seconds.

And then this thought hit me - OMG, this means that I'm getting close. Keeping in mind that this all happened within the hour before my doctor's appt (you know, the one where I had been telling myself that NOTHING was going to have happened or progressed in hopes of good-jinxing myself?) I have to admit that I got a little excited. You see, this is something that I VIVIDLY remember happening in the week or few days before I actually went into labor with my daughter.

I might be a little fuzzy on the rest of the finer details, but my boobs growing another cup size in preparation for the little bundle of joy was not one of those forgettable moments. I mean, I had already grown a cup size during the early months of my pregnancy, so to have to run out and buy MORE new bras, in LARGER sizes in the days preceeding her birth isn't something that this solid B-cup girl was likely to forget. Even after eight years. LOL!

So what do you think? Do you think that this could mean good news at the doctor's office for me? I'm gonna be mean and make you wait to find out! I promise to post an update this afternoon when I get off of work - but it's almost 11pm at night right now (on the 15th) and I am honest enough to admit when I'm plumb worn out. Catch you later!

Random Brain Dump

I know that I don’t normally do this, but this post is one of those brain dump posts – just too much on my mind, I suppose. So enjoy the randomness that is MY brain! LOL!

Right now, I’m obsessed with these that I saw here. Just started following both blogs (one is embedded in the other) and I love the idea of homemade Christmas presents and a whole month of Christmas in July ideas! But really, I’m just in love with those coasters! I think that I’ve got some funky scraps of material left over from various projects that would make super cute coasters for around our house. In fact, I KNOW that I’ve got scrap material to make these, so the only cost would be the batting – SCORE! And double score, it would replace the ratty beer coasters that somehow seem to double in number every time I turn around – does that happen at your house? Not to mention that each coaster would only take like 5 minutes to sew together, so this project would be quick, easy AND cheap! Even if it does re-engage my PWA status into the active category since I was on "hiatus."

I’ve decided that this baby is going to be JUST AS STUBBORN as my first child. Love her though I do, she was unwilling to move down into the birth canal until SHE was good and ready to make that move. Looks like her little brother is going to be the same way. HIS time table, not mine. So I’m not expecting to hear much change from last week. No dilation, no effacement, no nothing. And still floating around in there instead of being a good boy and deciding to come on out. By the way, on his way to work this morning, Brent told me that if I wanted to go ahead and have Jax today that would work for him so that it would make today his Friday. I told him not to hold his breath because in this one instance – I’m not the one in charge. He was totally shocked to hear those words come out of my mouth. Truly.

I’ve passed into the stage of not sleeping "just because." You know before, I was not sleeping because I was getting up every hour and a half to pee. Or I was not sleeping because he was moving so much that I couldn’t sleep. Or there were those times when I was not sleeping because I was so unbelievably thirsty that it woke me up. Yeah, last night, I woke up "just because" and couldn’t sleep. Yes, I went ahead and peed, got a glass of water and repositioned myself in case I couldn’t sleep because of all of the normal things, but then I realized that NONE of those reasons were why I woke up in the first place. Go figure.

I’m already in maternity leave mode as far as work is concerned. Having been told that you might possibly deliver as early as last Thursday tends to light a fire under your ass for all those little things that need to be tied up and dispersed to someone else at your office. So then when you go PAST that early date, you figure out that you don’t have that much to do anymore! LOL! Which is really kind of nice, except that you still have to come to work. To do not that much. When you could be sleeping in your bed still. Making up for those hours that you were awake “just because.” You get where I’m going with this? I thought you might.

I realized yesterday evening that I haven’t written any letters to baby. You know, that really popular trend on blogs? Yeah, I didn’t do any. And it’s not like they’re secret or personal to me or us and I just don’t want to share them. I just flat out didn’t do them. Now, I could be bold and say that I purposely didn’t do them because they’re so in and trendy and the thing to do right now if you’re prego. Or I could be totally honest and just say that I was lazy. That’s ok. I bet I still have two weeks to knock some out before he puts in his appearance!

(Yes, I’ve started making comments like that. I figure that if you can jinx yourself in a bad way, then you can also jinx yourself in a good way. For instance, I jinxed myself last week when someone asked me how I was sleeping and I answered “Great!” and then this week I’m sleeping like poop. So therefore, maybe by saying that I don’t think he’s coming for another two weeks, I’ll jinx myself and he’ll come this week!)

Don’t shoot holes in my theory. It’s my theory, and I like it!

Ok – that’s enough random stuff for today. I’ll let you know what I DON’T find out (that backwards jinxing attempt again!) at the doctor’s office today!

The Day That I Nearly Killed an Old, Elderly Man

Well, I promised you this story the other day, so I figured that I'd better follow through. So here goes...

One day, when I was only 83 weeks pregnant (that's about 34-35 weeks for regular people) we decided to stop at one of our favorite sandwich shops in San Marcos, Alvin Ords. They have the BEST sandwiches...really. If you're in the area, and you haven't eaten there, you're missing out! Anyway, I get the same sandwich every time we go there, as does Brent. Not that him getting the same thing really matters to this story.

Anyway, Alvin Ord's is a college place. It's run by old hippies who smoked a lot of dope back in the day (and more than likely still do!) and most of the employees that work there are college kids. They're all sort of hippy-ish, if you know what I mean. I think that they all hug trees, care about the environment and the girls probably don't shave. Now, saying all of that, I have nothing wrong with the employees or those beliefs, I'm just trying to paint an accurate picture for you all.

There are also a few older employees. Like maybe they worked there when Alvin Ord's first opened many, many moons ago. Keep that in mind...

So, back to the story. I went up to the counter along with Brent and Tanner and we all placed our order. They ordered the Salvation - a yummy treat for their tummies, and I placed my order. I ordered a turkey sandwich on French, with no cheese. Not that hard, right? I mean, it's not like it comes with a bunch of things that I cut this and that and added the other...I just didn't want cheese on my sandwich.

We sat down and waited for our food. Shortly, since the service is so great, our food was delivered and it was hot and smelled so yummy. The boys immediately dug into their sandwiches and I proceeded to scrape a little of the extra lettuce off of my sandwich first. That's when I noticed the cheese. I mean, how hard is it to leave off the cheese when I specifically ordered it that way? It shouldn't have been too hard, since that was the only change that I had made to the sandwich. I calmly got up, took my sandwich back to the counter and waited my turn.

Was I going to ask them to re-make my sandwich? You better bet I was. I mean, all I wanted was NO CHEESE. Not that hard, and I wasn't even mad about it. Just 83 weeks pregnany and hungry, which thinking about it in those terms makes for a dangerous combination. There was a pretty good line at the counter, and the younger (read smarter looking) employee was busy, so he asked the older gentleman behind the counter if he could help me. I mean, I'm standing there holding an uneaten sandwich - there was obviously something wrong with my order.

Here's how our conversation went down:

Me: Yes sir, I asked for no cheese on my sandwich and it was made with cheese.
Old Man: just stares at me blankly, obviously not comprehending
Me: You see, I ordered a turkey sandwich on French with NO CHEESE...and there's cheese on this sandwich...
Old Man: But it IS French bread.
Me: Yes, I know that it's French bread. And that's fine. But it had cheese on it. I didn't want cheese, and I ordered it without cheese.
Old Man: So you want Wheat Bread? Not French.
Me: (at this point starting to get "testy" and lose my temper) No, sir. I wanted a turkey sandwich on FRENCH but with NO CHEESE. I would like for you to re-make the sandwich.
Old Man: But you still want the cheese, right?

It was at this point that I decided that it was safer for all involved for me to just walk away. You know, to take a step back. I gave him the death glare with evil ojos, which several other employees witnessed, and then I walked (or maybe stomped) back to our table and sat back down. Brent, who had witnessed the rising temperature to my temper was honestly worried for the safety of the old man. Our table wasn't actually close enough to the counter for him to have overheard the conversation, but he knew that it didn't go well. As I related the story back to him, he immiediately got up to take care of the situation.

Luckily, about that time what I can only assume was a supervisor or manager came over to the table to ask what the problem was. I literally had to let Brent do the talking because I was so mad. I know that I probably didn't have a reason to be that mad, but hormones take over your body at this point during your pregnancy and I was hungry. That's really the only excuse that I have. The younger guy was very nice, and understood the problem and went off to re-make my sandwich...correctly this time.

Was I worried about the old man spitting in my food? Yeah, a little bit. But the good news is that we had a clear shot of where they prepare the food and Brent watched them like a hawk on my behalf. Me? I just sat there and ate the rest of my Fritos while I waited. Lucky for them I didn't have to wait for long. My sandwich came out hot and fresh...and right...and oh, so yummy.

After the demons inside me had settled and my hunger was abated, I was slightly embarrassed about the way that I had acted. Brent assured me that I hadn't overreacted or caused a scene in any way, but I still felt bad that I nearly took off the head of an innocent, if somewhat hardof-hearing, older man. I was raised to respect the elderly, even when they can't hear you. But oh well. Brent went up to get a refill on his soda before we left, and the younger guy was up at the counter again and asked if everything had worked out right the second time. Brent sort of apologized for me and told the guy that it was really the best thing for me to just walk away from the old man, being 35 weeks pregnant at the time. The young guy laughed and said not to worry about it, and gave us the impression that things like this happened all the time with that old man.

What's the moral to this story? Well, it could be twofold. #1 - when you're 35 weeks pregnant (or more than 35 weeks along) you don't always have control of your emotions. You WILL go off on perfect strangers for the craziest of things, if not your own loved ons. It's a fact of life. Accept it, embrace it, and deal with it. You're not the first one to do it, and you probably won't be the last either. #2 - you CAN control your emotions, to an extent. You can choose to walk away. Instead of tearing a stranger's head off. You DO have options. LOL!

Have you had a meltdown on a total stranger yet? Or do you know someone that did? I'd LOVE to hear that I'm not the only one...

Sneaky, Sneaky Mommy!

So, I tried to sneak a fast one by baby boy today. I tried to convince him that it would be MORE fun outside of my belly rather than inside of my belly. I tried all that I could to cajole, tease and bribe him out of my belly.

I even went to the hospital in hopes that he would recognize my urgency and help me out a little bit.

Nah, that's not really true. I mean, I did go to the hospital where I plan on giving birth. But I didn't visit the maternity wing, although I looked longingly at the doors and even gave Jax a good, firm nudge from the outside of my belly.

Do you think that worked?

Yeah, I didn't really think that it would work either. But I figured that it was worth a try.

He did nudge me back. Painfully. In the ribs along the right side of my body. I didn't laugh.

In all seriousness, we got a call that my MIL had been taken to the hospital this morning. She's been sick for about a week with a bad sinus infection, but nothing too serious. Therefore, you can imagine my alarm to hear that she was now in the hospital. After taking Jenna home, I went up to the hospital to check on her and see what was going on. Unfortunately, I went at a time when MIL was having a long test (it lasted an hour and a half) so I had to turn around and go home. I went back once Brent got off of work so that we could both check on her.

It turns out that they're keeping her overnight and tomorrow for observation. They don't really know what's wrong with her. She's diabetic and her blood sugar levels are off the charts right now. Along with stomach pain, intestinal troubles (don't want to share too much TMI) and just overall feeling faint and not well. At this point, they think that it's an infection in her intestines. Once the doctors can narrow down what type of infection, they'll know how to treat it and can proceed from there. But since they haven't determined anything yet, it's all still up in the air.

The good news is that she's feeling better. And her RN, Natalie, was encouraging her to get better because it looks like she needs to be in the hospital visiting the maternity ward, not as a patient in her own room. Apparently, Natalie thought that I was just about to pop, but maybe she was just judging by looking at my belly button! Who knows? But that's what both FIL and MIL said to me - "We both thought the next trip to a hospital would be to meet Jax!"

I assured them that I was having the same thoughts! I thought the next time that I was in a hospital would be birthing this baby. But two seperate trips up there today didn't convince the little guy to come on out.

Oh well. That concludes day #4,972. Luckily, I go see the doctor tomorrow. Maybe she'll have better news for me this week? I, for one, am NOT getting my hopes up!

Why Didn’t Anyone Warn Me About the Hormones???

This is what MUST go through my husband’s head sometimes...really and truly. He’s been great, he tells me all the time that I’m not that hormonal and other than a few times have been acting totally normal and not crazy-hormonal-pregnant all the time. I think that he’s forgetting about this incident. Or the weekend of my baby shower, which yes, I still need to post about. Or the time that I almost assaulted the old guy in Alvin Ord’s in San Marcos…oh wait, I haven’t shared that story yet. Well, that’s a story for ANOTHER day, I promise!

Yeah, and if you believe that I’ll remember to post that one later, you must be smoking crack too! I mean, did I mention that I still haven’t posted about my awesome shower that was two weekends ago? Yeah…keep holding your breath.

Anyway. Back to my post about hormones. No one tells you how bad it is or how irrational you’re being. Well, strangers might tell you, because they can always run away. But your friends and family and especially those that have to live in the same household with you don’t really like to talk about it. It’s like that dark, family secret that great-Aunt Bertha doesn’t talk about, you know? They lie to your face and tell you that you haven’t been that bad, when you know that they’re lying to your face because they have to live with you, and you probably prepare some or most of their meals so their scared that they might get spit in their food if they speak ill of you. It could happen. Especially when you’re 37 weeks pregnant.

And you love hearing the lie. Even knowing it’s a lie, it makes me feel better to hear it. They’re only lying out of love for me, right? Let’s hope so. And he must love me lots…because I’m 100% hormonal right now. I could cry at the drop of a hat and not know why. And that’s a for real not know why, not the whole I’m telling you that I don’t know why I’m crying when I really do know and I’m too pissed off at you because you don’t know why I’m crying to tell you why I’m crying. Did you follow that? It made sense to me!

If it’s not tears that are afflicting me, it’s the darn heat. No, not the heat OUTSIDE – I mean, I know that I live in Central Texas and July is usually spent with days reaching into the 100’s each and every day. No, I’m talking about the heat that is roasting my body from the inside out. I’m literally H-O-T all the time. All. The. Time. As in, my husband obviously thinks that we own a portion of the electric company (which it turns out that it’s a Co-op so we kinda do!) and he likes to keep the house at a chilly 70 degrees year round. And since installing the tile in the whole downstairs of our house that makes for a CHILLY downstairs. And I love it right now. On any normal-not-pregnant-day you would find me wrapped up in a throw or quilt trying to stay warm and sneaking up the stairs to turn the thermostat up “just a little bit” without him catching me. These days? You’re lucky to find me fully clothed during the middle of the day, let alone not laying on the tile floor just to transfer the coolness to my body.

And another weird hormonal thing that MUST be related, I cannot drink enough water to quench my thirst. I figure that it’s related to those hormones that are making my temperature gauge all freaky right now too, since I figure that the water is cooling me off from the inside out, while the A/C helps cool off my outsides. I seriously consume at least 10-12 glasses of water each day. And three of those are drunk between the hours of midnight and 4 am, which does lead to more peeing. But I’m up in the middle of the night peeing whether I drink the water or not, so I might as well try to make myself nice and hydrated. And it has to be water. Not vanilla cokes from Sonic – although they still taste divine, they do NOTHING to quench the thirst. Kool-Aid is a close second to water, or sweet tea, but there are times that I can’t even do those – it HAS to be water.

And this is all BEFORE I give birth. From what I remember, it gets WAY WORSE after the birth process is over and you’re back at home. I remember friends coming over to bring us dinner or to visit and finding me all curled up in a little ball crying my eyes out while my baby was snuggled up nice and tight in my arms. I remember it being MUCH worse afterwards. But shhhh…that’s my little secret. I haven’t told that to Brent or the kids yet. I figure it’s just better experienced without forewarning. Or maybe I can pull it off that I “didn’t know” that it was going to be that way afterwards? Probably not, I’m a horrible liar. But I can still try!

Anyway, I guess it’s true what they say about another person controlling your thoughts, body and actions when you’re pregnant and the period immediately following giving birth. There are times that you don’t know why you do what you do, why you eat what you’re eating and so on. There are moments that you’ll be so aggravating to be around, or maybe I should phrase that to say you’ll be so aggrevated to be around anyone else, that you just won’t know what to do. And then there are times that your limits of self-restraint and control will amaze even you. And it’s those times that I try to keep in the fore-front of my mind…and my husband’s. A little positive reinforcement never hurt, right? LOL!

**And just in case you’re wondering – none of the above counts as me complaining or whining. I’m still holding to my pledge to minimize the complaints, and the above post was written purely for educational purposes…not to vent or complain!

Still Pregnant!

I think that I’d really like to title a post “What It’s Like to Be 547 Weeks Pregnant” because that’s about how I feel at the moment. Seriously. When your due date is moved up and then moved back a few weeks later, you seriously do feel like you might be pregnant forever. FOREVER. Most of this pregnancy has passed by in a blur – could be my age (not that I’m that old, but time does pass quicker with each passing year!) or could just be the lack of sleep that these last few weeks offer a mom-to-be.

I took a vow recently (just to myself, but it still counts!) that I wasn’t going to complain as much as I felt I had been doing. There are many, many, many women out there who struggle with fertility issues and cannot conceive, and I am one of those lucky few women who got pregnant soon after starting to try to become pregnant. I wasn’t sure that it would happen like that the 2nd time around, but that’s how it happened. And since I personally have several friends and loved ones in my life who deal with fertility issues or cannot conceive at ALL without the aid of modern medicine, I vowed that I would be more sympathetic and not complain as much. Not just to those particular people (because I know that some of them would trade places with me in a heartbeat) but to the world in general. I mean, no one likes a cranky-pants, right? Right.

But when you feel like you’ve been pregnant for 3,829 days (or 547 weeks, whichever works for you) it gets really hard. You’re past the honeymoon stage of “yea – we’re pregnant!” and you’re full on into the “OMG – what the heck were we thinking?!?!” stage. Because if this lack of sleep is to “help prepare” me for having a newborn in the house and all of those nighttime feedings and diaper changes, then I’m more than prepared. I am happy to report that I can work half a day on only 3 hours of sleep and be fully functional for the most part. I can also sleep semi-sitting up/reclining for more than 2 hours at a time, which was an important pre-requisite for my daughter’s first few weeks!

The nursery is complete, for the most part. Or maybe I should say that it’s as complete as it’s gonna get. I have all the big furniture items that I think that I need. I’ve got clothes coming out of every possible drawer and closet space available. I’m 100% covered as far as receiving blankets, swaddler blankets and regular, soft baby blankets. I could use more diapers (who couldn’t?) and I would really, really like to be able to find a formula that does NOT contain Iron. My daughter could ONLY take the pre-mixed (not the powder kind) Low Iron formula from Enfamil. Which isn’t produced any more that I can find. Oh yeah, they’ve got LOTS of other newer kinds that they didn’t have when she was born 8 years ago, but NOT one SINGLE manufacturer that I can find at HEB, Target, Wal-Mart, CVS, Walgreen’s or anywhere else you can think to look carries a Low Iron formula.

And yes, I know that I might not even need it with this little bundle of joy, since he might be completely different than his older sister, but I think that I would feel better if I could find something that would be easier on the digestion. And yes, I also understand that there are other types now that say for “colicky” babies and partially digested for less gas. But I don’t KNOW that those will work. I know from experience that Enfamil Low Iron will work and is gentler on sensitive tummies. I’m sure that something else will be fine, but this is for my own sanity. Which at day #4,287 my sanity is really the only thing that’s important. At least in my world.

So, I’m not going to complain about the ever-present back ache. I’m not going to complain about these stupid Braxton Hicks contractions that are just regular enough to get me all scared/excited and then disappear for three of four days. I’m not going to talk about the constant heart burn. (From a glass of water, people! Water!) I’m not even going to think about mentioning the swelling on my right foot which is painful to the point of I’m certain that my skin is going to explode because it’s not meant to stretch that far. And I’m totally not going to mention how painful those little kicks and nudges that I so looked forward to feeling 5 months ago are becoming as he runs out of room in there.

Nope, not going to mention any of that. Except that I just did, didn’t I? Oh well, no one’s perfect. Baby steps. Baby steps to less complainging. (Extra kudos if you can give me the movie reference in comments below!)

At this point, with the lack of contractions that I had over this weekend in comparison with the abundance of contractions that I had the weekend before, I’m pretty certain that I’ll make it to week #634 of pregnancy. (That’s 4,438 days for you math whizzes out there!)

And yes, I know with every fiber of my being that this little one will be worth all of this. All of the aches and pains and discomforts will pale in comparison once I get to hold him in my arms. To count his tiny fingers and toes. To smell his sweet baby-smell, which I have a theory on that I haven't shared with you all yet. And just to hold him on the OUTSIDE of me...can't wait! And every day that I get closer to my due date I just get more and more anxious. And ready to meet the little guy!

Thirty Seven Weeks

Full term. Sweeter words, I don't think that I've ever heard! If Jax were to decide to come on out and play today, there is a great chance that his little lungs would be just fine on their own and need no help from the medical professionals. Full term also means getting the "green light" from the doctor on taking short walks in the evening to try and "encourage" labor. Of course, that's if the swelling in my feet isn't too painful to prevent that, and that all depends on how much bed rest I got that day. It's all relative, I suppose.

But I made it. Our fears of not making it to this day a few weeks ago are now over and a distant memory. Now the 10 million dollar question is "When is this show going to get on the road?"

Here are some belly pictures for you. He's dropping lower each week, but the doctor is quick to assure me that he's not "that low" yet either. Meaning that he hasn't started the descent into the birth canal at this point. There are days that I will agree with her assessment and other days that I think she's nuts. Some times he seems content using my bladder as a speed bag for his exercise routine and other days my pelvic bones are a great substitute for a heavy bag. (Sorry for the boxing references, but I'm married to a Marine - we have all of that stuff in our garage!)

He's also doing a great job now of staying on track with me - as evidenced by the doctor re-changing our due date back to the end of the month. He's measuring right on track, even if she thinks that he's about a pound heavier than my weekly updates say that he is.

I'm not going to post the weekly update this week, if that's ok with you (or even if it's not!) since they don't really seem to be saying much anymore except that he's continuing to grow and put on weight. Which is all well and good, but gets somewhat tedious week after week, you know? But I do have some updates for you:

Weight? 1 lb gain – marking a total of 17 pounds
Stretch marks? They still seem to be staying far away from me thus far
Belly Button – innie/outie? It's WAY out now
Movement? He scared me pretty good one day this week, with what must have been a "sleepy day" for him - but other than that one day, he's been moving and shaking all over the place.
Swelling? I'm still having trouble with my right foot. The good news is that this week the doctor seemed a little more concerned about it - taking the time to measure one foot against the other one, and wouldn't you know it, my right foot was 1.5 inches bigger around than the left one! The better news is that the swelling doesn't go up too far, but the time she got to my calves, my two feet were even again.
Contractions/Signs of Labor? I don't suppose I'm having anything other than Braxton Hicks contractions. I know that they're false because they come and go, and they're not making alot of progress towards other signs of labor. My cervix is softening, but no dilation or effacement as of yet.
Other Issues? I've got a new strategy as far as sleep goes. I'm thirsty (like drinking water by the gallon!) these days, but especially at night. I'm either getting up to pee or I'm getting up to drink ANOTHER glass of water. So far, most nights I can stay in bed until sometime between 12a-1a and then if I move to the couch and get into a reclining position, then I can sleep the rest of the night. You know, in between trips to the bathroom!

Otherwise I'm feeling ok most days. Besides being tired and ready to meet my baby boy, and getting overheated and winded on short walks up the stairs or to my car in this Texas heat, I'm really ok. I'm starting to feel anxious about being able to recognize real labor, but I think that most moms-to-be go through that!

Why My Sanity Might Be In Question

Or this post could be titled “What Happens When Doctors Smoke Crack.” Either title works for me because it’s official, I’ve decided that my Dr smokes crack and needs to be taught a lesson.

Do you remember a few weeks ago when I wrote about how happy I was that my due date had been moved up? Do you remember when I wrote about how my baby was larger than he was supposed to be so she was talking about inducing me as many as 4 weeks early? Do you remember these events? Because I seem to remember them happening – but we were told yesterday in the Dr’s office that they never occurred. My due date was NEVER changed from it’s original position at the end of this month, and that she would never have offered to induce me that early as the hospital won’t let her.

As in, the hospital will NOT let her induce a mother before 39 weeks. Like, it’s a written rule or something in their little hospital handbooks. And since it’s a rule (in said handbook) then I must be crazy for thinking that she told me that she would induce me around the 8th of July.

Yeah, just in case you just joined in, it’s the 9th of July and I’m not going to be induced any time soon.

Which is fine with me. I’ve heard some really horrendous stories about women who have to be induced and how much harder their labor is because of the artificial hormones and drugs starting the labor process. And Lord knows, I don’t want a more difficult labor – even an easy labor is still LABOR. And of course, I want a healthy baby. Hands down, no questions asked Jax’s health comes first in my book, which I know is what is also first in the Dr’s book. But does she have to make me feel crazy/insane for remembering events that now have suddenly “never occurred?”

Not to mention how depressing is that? I spoke about it a little bit last week, how sad it is to hear that you have less time, and then maybe she’s taking that less time back. There’s no maybe about it now, she’s definitely taking that time that she gave me back. And she’s doing that because A – the hospital has that pesky little rule and B – because my cervix is “unfavorable for delivery” at the moment.

Yep. Words that every woman who’s entering week 37 want to hear. NOT! Especially after the long weekend and the hours and hours of contractions that I was having. Or possibly not having, as it turns out. They were definitely all Braxton Hicks contractions as is evidenced by the lack of progress “down there.” Here’s the official ruling about where I stand right now – I’m almost completely softened, but not at all effaced or dilated in any way, shape, form or fashion. Le sigh.

Oh well. They say that childbirth is not an exact science, and truer words could not apply at the moment. Jax will come when he’s good and ready, whether that’s in three more weeks (as originally planned) or sometime sooner. Maybe I’m being given a lesson on patience? Possibly. Either way, I got a lesson on biting my tongue yesterday, and holding my temper since I didn’t go off on the Dr or harm her in any way. I really DO like her – for the most part. You know, except for when she’s telling me that I’m delusional.

Be Careful What You Wish For

Isn't that how that old saying goes?

Why did someone not tell me that yesterday when I was worried about a lack of movement from baby Jax yesterday? I got some concern and suggestions for getting him to move, which was all nice and helpful and made my heart go all warm and fuzzy with love. But no one, not a single one of you, told me to be careful what I wished for.

It's like the Finals for the World Cup are being hosted inside my belly today.

And it's been non-stop, all day long so far. With brief periods of intermission or time outs. Commercial breaks if you will. I've jumped more today from ribs and pelvic bones being caught in the cross fire of his movements than any day in recent history that I can remember.

I'm just staying positive and trying to remind myself that this is a GOOD sign. Of health and happiness.

Cross your fingers and wish me luck - I have a doctor's appt this afternoon. I'm not really expecting to hear anything earth-shattering, but progress would be nice! I'll catch you up on the visit tomorrow!

Hmmm...What to Do?!?

OK, so I have a little problem. Except that maybe it's not a little problem. My doctor certainly wasn't worried about it, so maybe the part where it freaks me out is really just me over-reacting.

I know, I know. Those of you that know me are thinking to yourself, "What do you mean freak out? Where is our level-headed friend Sandy? She NEVER freaks out!"

Now that you're all finished laughing your ass off, I'll continue with details about my problem. So I mentioned yesterday that I've started experiencing swelling this past week. At first I really thought it was just when I get hot, but over the last few days I've noticed that it happens every day. Every. Single. Day. And it's starting earlier and earlier during the day.

Which makes it all that more important that I got home right after lunch and put my feet up. Right? Right. And that does help the situation, but my feet are starting to swell no matter what I do. Or rather I should say that my RIGHT foot is starting to swell no matter what I do.

Did you catch that? Yeah, that's no typo. It's mainly just my right foot. I mean, there's some swelling in my left foot, but it's mainly just my right foot. My left foot is a little bit bigger than normal, but my right foot is LOTS bigger than normal. Like at least twice the size, if not bigger around the ankle. To the point where it hurts for me to bend my toes sometimes.

Yeah.

So, here's where I need your help. Have you ever heard of this happening? Or do you know of anyone that this has happened to? Where just one side of your body swells during pregnancy? My only guess is that it has to do with him favoring the right side of my belly - but that's just a guess.

I'd love to hear from you if you've got any thoughts about this! Thanks!