The Big 6

So, all the wonders and marvels of the 6 week mark are upon us!

In terms of little boo, it means he is now 9lb, 9 oz. And he is smiling and laughing a lot. Sometimes to weird things. 'Mama, you put me on the changing table. Haha, you so silly...' But sometimes it's in response to more natural stimuli.

Aaand, Solomon's vestibular system is very intact. He's very sensitive to postural changes when he's upset. When I have him, he prefers to be held against my chest and bounced. When Gerard has him, Solomon only settles for lying on his side on G's legs, or being held in the Superman pose. This leads to lots of superhero themed singing in our house.

I'm also happy to report that for about a week and a half now he's really gotten into a sleeping rhythm-- one that usually includes a 5-6.5 hour stint of sleeping, followed by another 3-4 hour block after a quick feed. We've had one or two blips in this cycle, but never less than 3.5 hours, so I'm rather pleased.

What 6 weeks also means, however, is that I can be a normal person now and exercise, bathe, and do whatever else I want. Go me! I had my first run on Monday, and went out for about 3 miles, though I had to walk after 12 minutes. Today, I ran for over 22 minutes before I had to walk, and did an extra half mile overall. It felt so good to be out running again!

Ok, gonna go give the boo a bath, which he hates by the way. I can't decide if it's better to bathe him when he's already fussy, or to try it when he's happy and ruin his good mood.

I'm exhausted

So, Gerard's been out of town for a long weekend, giving me newfound respect for single moms. I'm exhausted. It was the grocery store that did me in. Yesterday was fine, actually. And Solomon was a perfect gentlemen for my doctor appointment this morning, where me OB got to meet him. I also got the clearance to be a normal person again and can run and work out and do whatever I want!

I was a little apprehensive about the appointment, since I knew I'd have to leave Solomon in the car seat instead of the carrier due to the nature of the appointment. It was right smack during his most consistently awake period of the day, so I was nervous he'd want to be held and played with instead of trapped to the car seat. He was a little fussy, but much better than I had feared. With this success, I figured all would be well to go to the grocery store, which was a dire need. I figured I'd feed him in the car before starting shopping, but he was asleep by the time we got there and I didn't want to wake him. So I strapped him in the carrier and hoped I could keep him asleep the entire trip.

It's appropriate to say here I'm not a quick grocery shopper. Not only am I indecisive and am known to give serious thought in the middle of the aisle to which cereal I want, but we really did need a lot of food. We had made it through about half of my shopping when he woke up. He was fussy, but mostly just grunting and wiggling. We keep shopping. By the time he starts crying I'm completely committed to the grocery trip. I have too many groceries packed to just bail and leave. I have too many refrigerated foods to stop and feed him. And I have too little coordination and too few hands to attempt to feed him while finalizing my shopping. With no other choice, I pick up only a few more necessities and head to the checkout.

Here is where I realized the grocery store was busy. Busy with stay at home moms feeding families of 27 judging by the size of their carts. So I park myself in a disturbingly long line, which is precisely when Solomon starts to wail. Like, really, really loudly. It was awesome. I was so that girl. It was so bad, in fact, that not one- but 2- employees came over to assist me. One opened up a checking lane just for me, the other unloaded my cart as I did my best to console Solomon. I was exceedingly grateful for the help, but also embarrassed I was causing such a scene to necessitate the fuss.

Solomon screamed the whole way home, instead of sleeping like normal. I wanted to feed him right away, but didn't want to risk my food spoiling either. Of course I couldn't take everything in one trip, which faced me with an unexpected dilemma. After the first load, I wanted nothing more to lay the screaming boo down so I could run back down to the car faster, and carry the bags up, unlock all the apartment doors, etc. easier. But I really didn't know if that was an okay thing to do. Common sense says to me don't leave a baby by himself. But he'd be in the crib, perfectly safe, for 2 minutes. And honestly I wouldn't be any further away from him then someone in a big house (ok, maybe a mansion...) could potentially be away from their baby. So does anyone have any thoughts? In a small apartment building, is it okay to leave a baby in a safe place for a short period of time to run down to the garage, put the garbage out, get the mail, etc?

Boobie Munching

So, I wanted to spend some time to reflect on how breastfeeding was going so far.

It's definitely one of my favorite times of the day, which is good because it's taking up bigger and bigger portions of my day. The first day or two, I'm sad to say it was not something I looked forward to. Solomon and I were having a hard time figuring out exactly how to help each other out. We were both trying our best, but not especially coordinated with each other. Solomon also had a cute but unproductive habit of sucking in his upper lip and making loud smacking noises instead of getting a good grip.

Anyway, now there are several things I love about breastfeeding. First are the little faces Solomon makes when he tries to latch on. He mostly always attempts this with his eyes closed, no matter how awake and alert he might be. I'm tried telling him this wasn't especially efficient, but he doesn't believe me yet. So he closes his eyes, lifts up his eyebrows in interest, and then erratically swirls and his head with his mouth wide open hoping he'll hit a boob. He looks like a little baby bird and it melts my heart each and every time. Sometimes he does open his eyes for this process, though. And he's convinced I have hidden boobies- or at least hidden nipples. He's convinced I have one on my bicep somewhere, and strains his head up and back trying to reach it. He also thinks I have one hidden on my collarbone, and tries to find it when burping bores him. If I'm holding him too low for him to find the hidden nipple, he'll squirm and dig his little elbows into me and try to hoist himself up so he can find it.

He's usually confident that Gerard=no boobies, Mama=boobies. Gerard will carefully hand me a sleeping Solomon- who's slept on Gerard for the past hour- and he'll start rooting mid-exchange. As you can see from the picture, though, he hasn't fully mastered the gender distinction in nipples.

I also love breastfeeding because it guarantees me lots of time with my little burrito, even when Gerard is trying to hog him. And burping him usually puts him to sleep on my chest, so I get lots of sweet cuddles! :)

Solomon Wolf Jenkins is here!!

As excited as I am to share Solomon's birth story, I've been so intimidated by the overwhelming emotions and electricity that surrounded his birth that I haven't even known how to start. But I want to get everything down before the details get fuzzy, so I'll just start typing.

So, I went in Monday late afternoon for my checkup. I was sad because my regular OB was on vacation, and I had to see someone new. Anyway, I went in for my NST and again my fluids were low- lower than they had been the previous week. I was confused and frustrated because although they had been a little low the previous Tuesday, they were plenty high on Friday, and now they were at their lowest point. Anyway, after a very prolonged period of testing, the Dr. came in and told me I'd have to go to the hospital and be induced- that I was already 39 weeks and it just wasn't justified to continue to risk the baby when he was having questionable heart rate dips and low fluids. I was allowed to drive home first to pick up my bags, but was told I needed to be at the hospital within an hour. He told me there was a possibility the Dr. at the hospital would have a second opinion and allow me to go home, but that wasn't his recommendation. Anyway, so Gerard and I drove down to the hospital while I chugged 3 bottles of water hoping to impact my fluid levels. It didn't work. In fact, now my fluids were even lower. The biggest pocket they found was, I believe a 3.6- well below the worrisome cutoff of 5.

Before being induced, they told me I was .5 cm dilated, 50% effaced, and Solomon was -1. None of those numbers actually correlate on the tables, but that's what I was. It was about 9:30 or 10pm when they hooked up the Pitocin. With it came and IV of fluid- it took the nurse multiple attempts to get the IV in, which irritated me. The put the fetal monitors on my belly, which made it next to impossible to move independently. So I hung out there for a little bit, and my contractions started, although I couldn't yet feel them. The nurses would come in and check on me and seemed surprised or impressed or something that I wasn't feeling the contractions yet. Everyone kept saying everything looked great. They told me they'd keep the Pitocin low throughout the night so as to let me sleep, and then they'd rev up things in the morning.

That was a lie. I think I got about an hour or two of sleep before the contractions got too strong. But I was handling them well. I was using a lot of nonfocused awareness that we had learned in our Birthing From Within class, and everything seemed manageable so I let Gerard sleep through most of this. At maybe 2 or 3 in the morning they decided to 'move things along' and ruptured my membranes. About this time, too, they acted like they were going to do me a favor by putting in internal fetal monitors and allow me to take off the external monitors and be a bit more mobile. This sounded fair enough, but I immediately regretted it once the process started. It was an extremely painful experience that seemed to take forever. What's worse, one of the two monitors didn't take so they had to go back in a third time to insert it.

Anyway, I'm hanging out for a while and the contractions kept getting stronger and stronger. The nurse kept asking me if I was ready for the epidural, which really annoyed me so I told her to stop asking. She apologized and obliged. I'll stop here to try to explain how incredible Gerard was being. I was overwhelmed with his ability to tune into exactly how I felt and what I needed. He had internalized everything from classes, everything we had talked about what I might like or not like during labor, and everything from his own intuition about what to do. He cuddled in the bed with me, gave me kisses, massaged my neck, back and legs just enough to offer relief but knew exactly when he needed to stop and give me space. He said everything right. I honestly think if I could play back a recording of my labor and give a play by play of exactly what he should have said or done, it would not have been as good as what he actually said or did. I know I sound corny, but even amidst all the pain of labor, I could not get over how incredibly grateful I was of Gerard's presence and how lucky I felt. There was about 5 seconds when he was trying to update someone on the labor over the phone- and I wanted to throw it across the room. But other than those 5 seconds the whole time I was taken aback by how perfect and comforting he was being.

So anyway, the morning continues and at some point it was discovered one of the internal monitors was no longer working. So I had to put back on the external monitor. After all of that I was back to the external monitors. Also, the nurse kept coming in worried because Solomon's heart rate kept dropping during contractions. For a while this was worrisome enough to make me wear an oxygen mask. I got to take this off eventually, I don't remember the exact timeline now.

So we get to the late morning and my contractions have paralyzed me with pain. I had been sad during my earlier labor that I couldn't move around and practice all the labor poses I'd learned in yoga and our classes. But by this point I couldn't have moved even without all of my leashes. I was screaming out in pain but making a concerted effort to keep the tone very low, as this was supposed to aid in muscle relaxation and encourage your cervix to dilate. I remember at several points being worried my voice would go out. I was feeling overwhelmed at this point, but gained some strength by noticing the contractions were getting closer and closer together. They felt like they were almost on top of each other. So by it being so uncomfortable I knew it at least meant I was making progress. Gerard kept telling me I was in transition, which encouraged me. The nurse came in and kept asking me if I felt the urge to push. I didn't. She moved up my Pitocin level from an 11 to a 12 despite me begging her not to. She came back in and seemed perplexed I still wasn't feeling the urge to push. She started prepping the bassinet and getting things ready for delivery so I thought the game was almost over. Then, she checked my dilation and told me I was 3cm and 80% effaced. I was absolutely crushed. Devastated. It was really hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I had worked that hard for only 3 cm. It was even harder to wrap my head around the fact that the pain would undoubtedly increase in the next 7cm. All of these realizations crushed down on me hard and I was begging for an epidural within seconds of her saying 3 cm. I felt disappointed and embarrassed, but really didn't see any other way. Gerard was wonderfully supportive with this decision, even though beforehand I had told him to refuse me if I were to ask for an epidural. He knew enough to know I really meant it and wasn't giving up prematurely. I'm tearing up right now just remembering how comforting and supportive he was through the whole process.

The anesthesiologist came soon (I believe this was about 11am), and I remember him and the nurse being impressed I could remain so still and calm through the pain of the injection. And I was all 'dude, I can barely feel that relative to what I've been going through.' Anyway, at first I just felt numb and tingly in my toes, but soon I could barely feel when I was having a contraction. I was given a little button I could push to control how much drugs I'd receive. I could push it up to once every 20 minutes. I was told to get some rest, which wasn't hard after what I had been through, and the fact I hadn't slept the night before. At about 2pm I woke up. I still hadn't pushed the button, and was getting the slightest bit of movement back in my legs. At this point I could feel my contractions a bit in the upper portion of my abdomen- but I knew the real pain was lower, blocked by the epidural. But I felt comforted by at least being able to feel my contractions a bit and being more aware of what was happening to my body. For the next 30-40 minutes I was awake but relaxed while Gerard slept. My pitocin level now was a 14- only 2 units more than they were when I asked for the epidural. At about 2:40 I was checked again and 8cm dilated. This comforted me and I felt energized to have the baby. Minutes after that they said 'whoa whoa, baby's coming- wake up Gerard!' So pretty much he woke up and I started pushing. Apparently, Solomon didn't enjoy this phase too much, and started getting bradycardiac with each contraction. So again I was on the oxygen. I remember a nurse asking the OB if they should page a pediatrician to be here for the birth, which scared me a lot that he might need extra attention right away. I was also pretty disturbed at the OB's demeanor. He barely looked me in the eye- he stared at the monitor the whole time. He looked very solemn and not especially encouraging. I was scared enough to know Solomon needed to get out asap. I still didn't really feel the urge to push, but I was grateful I could feel enough of my contractions to know when to push. I think it took about 3 or 4 contractions and then he was out! He cried for a minute or so, but stopped almost immediately after being given to me. I was so grateful that he looked strong and healthy from the get-go and didn't need to be taken from me to make sure he was okay.

I immediately started crying, overwhelmed with gratitude and love for this little guy. I won't get into all of the emotional aspects of the birth yet. I wanted to record this story now, while I could still remember most everything. I can write about everything else later. What the nurses said and did I stand to forget, but how I felt is something that could never fade from mind.

I'll never know why or how my contractions got so strong and fast without dilating properly, if I would have progressed the way I did from 3-8 without the relaxation that came from the epidural, or if there was something I could have done differently in the labor progression to have changed its outcome. In the end it really doesn't matter. I had really wanted to not have an epidural, and while I do feel a slight sting of disappointment and maybe even embarassment that I couldn't do it naturaly- it's honestly something I've thought of extremely little since 3:01 when Solomon came out. He was happy and alert and so was I. Neither of us nor our bond seemed at all interrupted by the epidural, and in the end I'm just so happy and relieved to have a healthy baby that the way in which it happened is of extremely little importance now.

Ok, I've spent too much time staring at a computer screen instead of Solomon's beautiful little face!

Not Much News

So, things have been kinda slow recently...

First of all, still no baby. Tomorrow I will be 39 weeks! I've made it through all of my big scheduled activities (by 'big' I mean things like having dinner with friends we haven't seen in a while, etc.), which include our maternity photos! Doing the photo shoot was fun, but exhausting. I was basically just standing there, changing clothes, then standing there some more... but when it was over I felt the need to take a 90 minute nap. The digital prints are supposed to be ready by Thursday, so I'm excited to see them!

So my low fluids were apparently just a fluke. They were nice and high on my checkup on Friday. But of course, then they saw his heart beat was having little quick little drops. Which the doc says is perfectly normal, but warrants continued twice/week visits... hurray!

I've been having a lot of different belly sensations the past few days. Ninja almost never 'kicks' anymore. I can feel him move and kinda twist, and he does prolonged pushes, but no quick kicks or punches. The thing is, sometimes these prolonged pushes are in a very concentrated area and are definitely caused by a foot, but other times they take up almost all of my belly. I'm starting to think these might be contractions, although Gerard disagrees. I don't really see where he gets off having an opinion in the matter, not having a uterus and all, but he does. I also, well, feel like he's getting really low. So we'll see what happens!

On Fluids and Beyonce's teeth

I've decided I might read about celebrity gossip and pop culture a bit too much. 1- because Gerard can read something and innocently ask me a question like 'Who is Connor Cruise?' Maybe I should be able to answer this, and maybe not, but it comes a bit too easily for me to say 'Tom Cruise's adopted son with Nicole Kidman before they got divorced; but he and Nicole don't really get along very well- I think he calls Katie Holmes 'mom' now.'

2- I got a new puzzle (more on this later) of Times Square- full of billboards, etc., as would be expected. I thought it would be rather difficult, as there is a lot going on. But actually it's ridiculously easy. I'm having to pace myself. I don't even have to give the pieces a second thought; I can see one letter on one puzzle piece and immediately know which advertisement it belongs to. Did you know I can also tell the difference between a portion of Beyonce's smile from that of Jessica Alba? I kinda wish I had to at least reference the picture to double-check, but I didn't.

So the Birthing From Within series (which is a book and also the kind of childbirth class Gerard and I took) recommends having some sort of labor project to keep you semi-occupied and distracted during the early stages of labor before you're ready to go to the hospital, etc. The examples in the book seem quite ambitious, like reorganizing kitchen cabinets, fixing fences, discovering new energy sources, etc. Not having an idea how hard or quickly labor will hit me, I've decided that something strenuous, and/or something that actually should be done were not good ideas for my labor project. Hence, my new puzzle. Sitting down to half-mindlessly thumb through puzzle pieces seems like a manageable task to distract me through early labor, and if it's not and it sits untouched on the dining table for the next 6 months, that's ok, too. So I've started the puzzle not because I'm in labor yet, but because I thought it'd be hard and time consuming and worth getting a jump start on. But now that I've revealed my unusual proficiency at identifying celebrities and advertisements, I feel the need to slow down in case it is another two weeks or more before this guy comes out.

But, on the other hand, I had my NST stuff today. And apparently over the past weeks my fluid level mysteriously went from great, to a little bit under what they like to see. So now I have to go back in on Friday instead of waiting a week. He alluded to the possibility of having to be induced on Friday if my fluids had dropped significantly by then, but otherwise we'd just keep up this every 3-4 day routine.

I'd really rather not be induced, but I am getting awfully excited to meet the little booger!

No baby yet

So I'll be pregnant for longer than my sister. Which is totally fine. I'm still relatively comfortable, compared to how much other preggos complain this late in the game. Though I really miss lying on my stomach. Only very rarely would I ever normally lie (lay? I still don't know) on my stomach, but now that the privilege has been taken away from me for so long, I really think it is something I'd really like to do.

The thing that is most frustrating about not knowing when ninja will come is trying to make plans more than 3 hours in advance. Not that my social life is exactly hopping- and my allowed activities are pretty much limited to sitting for dinner, sitting for a movie, etc- but even trying to have dinner with friends always comes with the asterisk.... sure I'll meet you for dinner on Wednesday, if I don't have a baby first... Which coincides with my fear of my water breaking in a very public place in a very gushing, dramatic fashion. I feel like everyone you hear about going into labor or having their water break is always in the privacy of their own beds in the middle of the night. But I'm quite sure I'll somehow have situated myself in front of a giant crowd of people, and there will be horrified looks and pointing and screaming. We'll see!

On that note, G and I have finally booked a maternity photography session. I've really wanted to do it, but we're trying to conserve money, so we picked someone who is decent, but not amazing (read: expensive), who has a pretty cheap sitting fee, and looks like she basically makes her money with marked up prints. So we'll pay a nominal fee now, and maybe just wait on the prints til later. Or I'm also thinking of just getting one big one. I have a vision in my head of putting three blown up frames all next to each other- one maternity photo, one newborn ninja photo, and one from our wedding- all black and white. So the first goal is to ensure at least one decent framable preggo picture is taken before ninja finagles his way outta my belly.

Here's the belly

37 weeks... almost a week late. Sorry.

You'd think I was a bird

So, in case anyone thought I might not be nesting, I'm here to protest.

I rearranged the nursery yesterday. It looks much cuter now. I'd post new pics, but included in the design are boo boo's initials, which are still top secret. So you'll have to wait. It all started innocently enough, wondering where I'd fit my newest Craigslist purchase of the Diaper Champ. This made me realize all the diapering stuff, including the changing table, really belonged in the bathroom. We're cloth diapering, so it just makes sense that we take off dirty diapers, rinse them, and store in the diaper champ to be washed all in one room. And that room is the bathroom.

That being said, this week I've also done all the mini last minute purchases of things we'll want on hand before the baby comes. Although we're doing cloth, we did want disposables on hand for the beginning, longer outings, etc. So purchases such as this were made.

Today I also embarked on one of the most organized and thought-out grocery trips of my life. Not only was I well equipped with coupons, but I shopped with the specific intent of buying lots of freezable or nonperishable items that will be easy to prepare and eat after the baby. Of course I didn't want this to mean a lot of microwave dinners, so I had to plan. We got a lot of canned and frozen fruits and veggies, quick just add sauce type meals, like tortellini, ravioli and periogis that can be frozen, stocked up on meats that we'll freeze, etc. It was fun. The sheer mass of food I bought then required me to thouroughly clean out our fridge, freezer and pantries of old or neglected foods. Additionally, I did my best 'Georgian preparing for a snowstorm' and bought semi-ridiculous quantities of toilet paper and paper towels. But I think mostly I was just relieved to be nearing the end of the cheap, dusty particle-producing everytime your rip it- toilet paper stash that Gerard last brought home.

Finally, I washed and line dried all of our new baby clothes, blankets, diapers, etc.

And now I'm going to take a nap.

Hello, full-term!

So, big things are happening! It's August, for one. Which means when people ask me when I'm due, I can breezily say 'the 24th' instead of having to identify the month as well. Which is just so cumbersome. Today also marks the day which I am officially considered full-term, at 37 weeks. Boo-yah! And I'm 6 days away from the point in time my sister went into labor. Although she didn't have any of this nonsense, I'm still under the probably naive assumption that my labor will go exactly as hers did, which means Sunday will be a big day.

I've made it through 2 of my 4 late pregnancy out of town visitors, and thankfully the only 2 staying with me. Don't get me wrong, I loved having them and catching up, but playing hostess to them back to back this late in the game left me exhausted. So I'm thankful to have a little down time now to try to rest back up. It hasn't worked so far, as I've spent the last two days feeling nauseated and with a little burning in my chest. I really hope both clear up before ninja baby starts getting any bright ideas about making his grand appearance, because right now I feel too drained to be up for the physical or mental tasks of labor.

In nonbaby news, one of those 2 visitors, Joe, brought his dog, who found an abandoned bone discarded under the couch. It's been around for probably 2 years, and Kota has never given it the time of day- she has eyes only for her ring bone. I've started calling the ring bone her paci, as that's exactly how she uses it when she's either under or over stimulated. Anyway, since Harvey the dog found this bone and got his smell all over it, Kota has a new found love for it, and it has taken over her daily agenda at the expense of poor ring bone.

Lastly, and back to baby stuff- I think I packed way too much in my hospital bag (surprise surprise). It doesn't actually fit into my bag anymore- it's sorta overflowing. But better be safe than sorry right?!

I've become so lazy....

... that I've resorted to sticking pieces of paper/trash/etc. in Kota's collar and sending her off to Gerard rather than having to get up.

And I think it's pretty genius.

Here you'll see Kota gently reminding Gerard that this FedEx envelope belongs in the recycling- not the trash- and can he please try again?

By the way, my first NST (nonstress test) went well enough. Everything looked fine, but I wasn't especially pleased with what the Dr. had to say. My regular OB was on vacation, so I had to be signed up with some new chick. Contrary what they told me at the hospital, she sat there and told me I couldn't do anything that kept me on my feet for more than 30 minutes, no yoga, nothing. I can't even do a grocery trip in that kinda time frame. She told me lots of other things that seem way strict. And, despite the laziness I depicted above, I'm not very happy about all this. I know some people get on real bedrest and have it way worse, but up to 5 weeks doing virtually nothing seems horrendous... Not to mention the fact that everyone seemed to think that the end of my pregnancy was the perfect time to come visit SF... so I have a slew of visitors back to back starting Monday. This is well enough for me to keep me company- as long as ninja baby stays on the inside- but I'm not sure how pleased they will be playing cards and doing (my new obsession) Kakuro puzzles instead of adventuring through the Bay...

Here are my 35 week pictures... are you as excited about my long overdue haircut this Saturday as I am??

Graphic, part ii

PS- Being as I have none of the general risk factors of placental abruption, and didn't face any abdominal trauma, I'm blaming this episode entirely on ninja baby who, in the past 3 days, has gotten even stronger than I previously complained about. Things in there have definitely shifted from a dance party to a boxing match, and I think my placenta took the brunt of it.

No, I don't care that my proposed situation isn't actually rational.

Graphic- You maybe don't want to read this. Plus, it's really long

So, I'll start off this post by giving away the ending. I'm fine; boo boo is fine, and he's still in my belly. But 36 hours ago I wasn't sure about any of that.

It started Wednesday night after an uneventful day. I went to bed, dreamed that my Birthing From Within teacher had decided to change routes and teach us Lamaze instead and would not refund us- and awoke at a quarter after 1 to a lot of wetness. I rushed to the toilet unsure if I had peed myself, if my water broke, or what had happened. When I turned on the bathroom light, I was surprised to see it was blood dripping on the floor and down my legs. Gerard and I were worried, but relatively calm as we drove to the hospital. I was crying and was sure it was bloody show and I was going into early labor. Not ideal, but at 34 weeks and change, it also wasn't necessarily terrible.

Anyway, we get there and the whole nine yards of testing. We got the good news that I wasn't dilated at all, so it didn't look like I was going into preterm labor just yet. But the first ultrasound showed a splotchy part on my placenta that appeared to indicate placental abruption. This led to talks about emergency c-section, long hospital stays of up to weeks on end, and lots of crying. I was told a neonatologist would come talk to me in the morning about the implications of a premie. A social worker should also come by and discuss me getting on disability. I then get wired to the bed with IVs and fetal monitors, and the whole mess led me unable to reposition on the bed by myself, much less go to the bathroom independently. It was awesome. I still had no idea what my fate would be and nothing about the situation was good. By the time things calmed down a bit, it approximated 4am, and I was tired. Nurses and doctors continued to prance in the room at all hours of the night and morning to take vitals, fix the monitors I had knocked off, and one even woke me up with the burning question of why Gerard hadn't gotten screened for cystic fibrosis. Lady, if you had waited until sunrise you could've seen he was black and that he doesn't have cystic fibrosis.

So, at 10:30am I get wheeled down to get a formal diagnostic ultrasound, with a bigger and fancier machine than previously used upon arrival. That was the most eventful thing of the day. Other than I sat there. Waiting. Lying in bed. Waiting. When the nurses came in I'd ask when a Dr. would come tell me what's going on, she'd tell me she'd go check on it, then I'd never see her again. A new nurse would come in next and I'd have to start the process over again. And ps- there is nothing on tv in the middle of the day. Nothing. It wasn't until that evening that I could stop continuous fetal monitoring, which meant I could now move around the bed all by myself! I also now only had to drag my IV drip along to the bathroom to pee. Even better than this was the fact that I could now eat. I was starving, and so looking forward to my first meal in almost 24 hours. That is, until I saw the microwave dinner on the tray presented to me. Now, I know that hospital food is supposed to be disgusting. It's like a law. But this was just uncalled for. I mustered down a few bites, and took refuge in the fact that I had a plum left to eat. At least something not drowning in preservatives. It didn't take a much closer look to see that the plum was actually half yellow from so much spotting, and its shape conformed to the touch of my thumb. Gag. Alas, I still had a slice of cake to look forward to. I managed to swallow one bite and though I would die. I can't even describe how bad it was. Like someone had frozen it for a year, taken it out and let it stale, then froze it again. Then someone poured an entire cup of water on it to feign moistness. Gerard was obviously ordered to bring me food.

So here we are...I hadn't had any more bleeding since the big event, boo boo looked fine (a hearty 5lb, 2 oz), and I was told I'd probably leave first thing in the morning if everything still looked good. I got moved to a new room in a different wing, which was a sign that I was stable. The bed was more comfortable, I was no longer on liquids, tho I had to leave the IV in, and an end was in sight. I mentioned to the nurses the neonatologist nor the social worker came to visit. They'd get right on that. So I try to get some sleep, annoyed that since arrival I hadn't spent more than 5 cumulative minuted with a Dr.- and each time it was a different one. They told me nothing about results from an tests they had run, told me contradictory things about what this would mean for the rest of my pregnancy (one told me everything would be a-ok, but without exercise, another told me I'd be on house arrest), and never really explained to me where we were going from here or what would happen next.

Gerard and I wake up at 12:30 to the lights being thrown on and a nurse loudly coming in to check my vitals. Not even pretending to be considerate about it. "Get some sleep; see you in 3 or 4 hours" she said as she left. I was woken up several more times throughout the night because apparently my blood pressure, heart rate and temperature are of vast interest at all hours of the night. By morning, I was sufficiently cranky and anxious for rounds so someone would tell me what was going on.

By 11:30am, rounds were still MIA, and I was pissed. When a resident finally pranced in after 1pm, I told her in no uncertain terms I was none too pleased. "You can't be mad at me," she says , "I've never even met you." Exactly! I've never seen the same Dr. twice or for more than 30 seconds, so who else am I supposed to pin my frustration on. She told me I'd be ready to be discharged after the neonatologist came to see me.... Excuse me? I was trapped in the hospital for an indefinite period of time waiting on a Dr. who was supposed to see me yesterday morning?! It was about this time I realized I had been there for over 36 hours and had not been given a change of gowns, socks or underwear, and hadn't even been given a toothbrush or shower or anything. Now I was really just pissed. The social worker came soon after the peak of my anger, and was appalled at the service I'd be given. She immediately got me towels, a change of clothes and a toothbrush, and informed me that the neonatologist was in surgery, but would see me when she got out. Finally, a woman with some answers.

So, after a very soothing, but soapless shower, brushed teeth, clean socks and underwear, and a visit from a neonatologist who told me nothing about NICUs or premies that I didn't already know being an SLP, I was finally discharged. They would not allow me to leave on foot; I had to go in the wheelchair, which is ridiculous. But I'm pretty much allowed to resume normal daily activities, minus exercising. Although she did say prenatal yoga was ok. I think she might assume my prenatal yoga is like the kind on DVDs where you stretch and chant and call it a day, and not like the actual real life workout that it is. But oh well. I'm home. And Gerard came to pick me up with my Kota girl in the car, and got me ice cream on the way home without me even having to ask for it. So things are looking up.

He's coming... (soon, not now)

Wow, didn't realize it had been that long since I posted... It's been a very crazy couple of weeks. I've had to stay several hours late at work every single day trying to wrap up school's summer session, in addition to trying to tie together all of my clinical duties to prepare for maternity leave. Despite my efforts, I didn't finish; I have some reports to write from home this week and I'll have to swing by the office in the next couple days to make sure everything is ready for my absence. But, other than that... I'm free! Whohoo :)

So, in baby news.. I'm 34 weeks. 6 weeks today is my due date. It's crazy to me, because I know of so many babies that were born 36-37 weeks. It's comforting, because as a professional I know there are virtually no long-term complications from having a baby even at 34 weeks, especially 36. But guys, 36 weeks is, like, 2 weeks away... That's really really soon! I think we are more or less prepared... I mean, we don't have our bag packed, car seat installed, anything like that. But mentally, I think we could do this any day now. The nursery is suited up enough to support a baby, although I'm constantly moving around furniture trying to get the set-up just right. I still want a rug for it, which is on the to-do list.

The other update is that we finally chose a hospital. We'll be going down to Redwood City. Everyone seems to think this is a horrible idea, because Redwood City is 23 miles away, and the SF hospital is 4 miles away. But let's think about this rationally. It is 23 miles, but 22.75 of these miles are highway. It's half an hour drive, versus a 20 min 4 mile drive through the middle of the city. I'm pretty sure I'll take an extra 10 minutes in a smooth ride going straight, than a drive that is constantly stopping and turning and speeding and slamming on the brakes and cars cutting us off and horns honking and bikers going crazy and everything else that comes along with city driving. So no, I'm not concerned about the drive. And I'm not concerned that I won't have more than 30 minutes warning before having this baby. And, if I don't, then Gerard will deliver his 14th baby between 101 and the bay, and it'll be a great story to tell.

Lotso Pictures

I'm officially a whale. Here are some way overdue belly pictures, and some shots of how we kept the same furniture (plus a crib) and now call the study a nursery. I want to add a rug, and maybe a few more decorative type things on the wall, but at the end of the day, he's a baby. And I don't think he'll mind too much.

32 weeks

Whoooa huge belly!

The dogs helping to build the crib

Notice Kota's bed in front of our changing table. She's pretty happy we built this roomy, quiet room just for her.

The rocking chair is our other piece of "new" furniture. It's craigslist and sooooo comfy.

Busting Out

So, boo boo has gotten bored with the usual kicks and punches. His movements now are more like a full body slam and prolonged push into me. I can only assume he is trying to break out of my belly, much as one would try to break down a door. I'm trying to convince him this isn't the best idea ever.

CONTEST

So, I'm starting a contest for who can guess boo boo's birthday. Entrants will win a super prize! Which I am also taking suggestions for.

Contest Rules: 1. You must enter your guess as a comment to this post. No other guesses or remarks count.

2. No duplicate entries. The first person to comment with a given date calls it.

3. My guess is August 10. So his bday can be 8-10-9, which I think is cool.

Go!

29 wks

I'm fairly certain my belly doubled in size this week.

I Can't believe it's June

Sorry for the lengthy delay. I've been super busy this past week, so will try to condense. The biggest happening, I suppose, was our first childbirth class! When we first arrived, I took a scan of the other mamas and wondered if I had jumped the gun on starting a course, as everyone in there looked well ahead of me in belly size. During our introductions, though, it was all I could do to not sit there with my mouth gaped open, because these girls were due in September- one even in October! There are exactly two girls who are due before me- one by only 5 days- and she is huge. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I at least am starting to understand why everyone feels the need to remark on how relatively small I am, because these girls in this class are absolutely massive. What's odd, though, is I feel pretty proportionate relative to the two dozen or so girls in my prenatal yoga class. One of whom commented that I had the cutest, roundest little belly she'd ever seen. This compliment is at least doubly meaningful coming from another preggo. I think, at least. Updates pics of the super cute belly coming later today or tomorrow.

Anyway, so the class so far is okay. So far it's mostly the anatomy and basic stages of labor, which Gerard and I kinda get already. Our main interest in the class was its supposed influence of natural childbirth methods and techniques for a medication-free birth. Which we didn't really address on the first class, but I suppose we'll get to. The teacher hasn't impressed me yet. She seems kinda flaky, and doesn't address people's questions directly. For example, one poor guy in the class asked at least 5 times, in pretty direct ways, what constituted the definition of 'labor' when she quoted that first labors take an average of 15 hours, since most women feel some sort of contractions for days leading up to the actual birth- so when did she consider the "starting point" for this 15 hour time frame? When the contractions have a consistent schedule, when a woman starts dilating or effacing, what? Anyway, the woman's answers basically just continued to say that every woman was different, this was an average, blah blah. Things any jackass knows, and not at all what he was asking. She also spoke at length about how we chose this hospital to give birth at (and repeated this wording several times) when the guy next to me and I both chirped that insurance had a hell of a lot more to do with it than preference. Which she also didn't seem to quite follow. Anyway, I'm trying to give her the benefit of the doubt and go to the next class with an open mind about her abilities and qualifications...

Otherwise in our lives, we're in the process of converting our study into a nursery/storage area. With possible emphasis on the storage. Right now it's a quarter nursery, quarter storage, quarter study and quarter mess. But I have high hopes. A simultaneous project is trying to decrease the temperature in the room, as it's too hot for boo boo. But with no AC, no windows in the room, and no heating vents (to exhaust a portable AC), our options are somewhat limited. Fun stuff, guys. Fun stuff. 

Hey Baby, What's Your Sign?

So, you know what is discussed way too much? Lil boo boo's sign. I didn't think normal people really still cared about this, but apparently some do. I cannot believe how many people have asked the due date, with the immediately following question of: So what sign will he be/ So that's a Leo, right?/ So he'll be smart/stubborn/creative/enter any adjective here.

Guys, I barely know my own sign, do you really expect me to recognize all of the other signs- and not only that, but the dates in which the fall?? Beyond that, am I expected to give a crap??