Yay Poop!

Tonight Bundle finally pooped. It had been six days. A couple of weeks ago she stopped going several times a day - or even every day. After three days she had a major blow out and things have been irregular ever since. This was the longest wait, however, and I had actually called the doctor earlier this week. We were advised to mix in one ounce of prune juice with three ounces of formula or milk, once a day. It totally looked like cappucino. Thankfully it only took two of them. If she hadn't pooped by today I would have had to call Doc back.

I have no idea what caused this though. I've heard the theory that the baby is growing and using up every last bit of caloric energy and therefore not having anything to excrete. That seemed reasonable to me when it was just once. My dad loves telling the story of me being constipated as an infant and "popping like a cork". But that doesn't really match Ronnie's issue. I think we're going to be doomed to repeat nqllisi's experience with her daughter: a month of repeated poo strikes and prune juice treatments. I'll ask Doc for his insight at her two month appointment next week. And...I guess we'll just have to see what tomorrow's diaper holds.

A Family Matter

When my mom was first diagnosed with MS in 1986 no one knew what it was. Very few people had even heard of it, much less knew what it stood for. At age 11, I quickly developed a short speech to explain it to my friends. Since then we've come a long way. It seems like everyone knows of someone with MS - when it used to be somewhat kept under wraps. Celebrities with MS have come out and advocated for understanding and continued research. You can help. I'm a notorious procrastinator and once again, the walk is this coming Sunday! I apologize for the short notice but donations will be taken until May 29th. I appreciate any help you feel willing to give.
Thanks in advance!

Consider a pledge to end multiple sclerosis and support me during Walk MS: Twin Cities Walk 2009.

MS stops people from moving. The National MS Society exists to make sure it doesn’t. Please help by making a donation — large or small — to move closer to a cure for MS. Or, why not join me on the day of the event? Become a participant and side by side, as teammates, we will move together to raise the funds that make a difference.

Whatever you can give will help. I greatly appreciate your support and will keep you posted on my progress.

Click here to visit my personal page and make a secure, online donation.

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Me and Bundle McGee

Friday night Mr. b's band played the fashion show in the Twin Cities. We had planned on me attending this event since he first got the gig, sometime last fall. I've been out a couple of times since having Ronnie, once with the mister and once with the girls, but this was going to be major. We arranged to have the kids sleep over at my sister's house. We took the bus so we could both drink without concern. And it was a ton of fun.

But sometime during the second or third band (each band had two designer's lines shown during their set, here's the first during Mercurial Rage and here are some clips of the entire evening) I got a text from my sister. "What time do you think you will be done? Bundle really needs her mom." Well shit. That put a bit of a damper on things. But what was I supposed to do? I replied that there was still several bands left and that neither of us would be able to drive anyway. So she offered to come and get us.

Ultimately it was no big deal. We stayed until the end of the music and fashion and got a chance to talk to nearly all of our friends in attendance while waiting for my sister to show up. I had stopped drinking - and had only had three at that point anyway - once I first got the word from her so I could safely nurse Veronica once we got home. But it also made me think and I had a bit of a revelation: I am not ready to go back to work.

This was supposed to be my last week of leave. Eight weeks is not enough. So I talked to my manager and I'm taking one more. Sure, nine weeks isn't really *that* much more but I think it's going to make all the difference in the world. I'm still going to have a much harder time going back than after my leave with Kirk. I had 12 or 13 weeks then and he went to Auntie Daycare so I was able to convince myself he was merely hanging out with his cousins. This will feel much more painful and final. I am going to bawl my eyes out on the way to work that first morning.

Free Music!

Mr. b's fantastic band, Mercurial Rage, has a new single out today!

Mercurial Rage have been raising the roof around here for the last couple years with their uniquely infectious, ultra danceable sounds. Taking influence from the finest exponents of electronic pop’s first Golden Age (think Depeche Mode, The Cure, and dance-rock bands like Happy Mondays and Primal Scream), The Rage add their own totally unique lyrical stamp and jaunty melodic personality.

Download their awesome three-sided-single here!

Recovery

Well, now I can go back to work. I don't want to but I have my doctor's OK. How the hell did I afford such a long leave with Kirk?

My post-partum check-up went smoothly. Everything's healing as it should be. I guess there are still some stitches that haven't fully dissolved but they're the inner most ones. I'm pretty sure I tore during delivery - 5 minutes of pushing goes extremely fast and I don't remember them making me pause for an episiotomy like last time. I noticed that Doc was referring to some notes in my file throughout my visit and I finally got a glimpse: it was a summary from the on-call doctor at the maternity ward! I don't know that I even said a single word to her. Doc showed up about 10 minutes after Ronnie was born and while he checked her over, basically all he did was congratulate Mr. b and I and shake our hands.

Since we're absolutely determined not to have an "oops" I definitely wanted to get on birth control right away. Supposedly nursing is about 90% effective, at least until your first period. And the no estrogen mini pill is also about 90% (and won't dry up your milk supply), but combined the two are as good as the regular pill. Doc said I should give the pill a couple of weeks to get into my system and double up on contraception until then. As much as we'd like to get back to normal marital relations, Mr. b and I are both a bit hesitant. I don't remember how long after Kirk's birth we waited.

It seems I had gained a total of 15 pounds from the time of my first ob visit until my final one. And now I'm officially 16 pounds less than that final weigh in. Doc was worried that such rapid weight loss might mean I was too busy taking care of the kids first and forgetting about myself. I assured him I'm eatin' like an eatin' fool. I actually need to make sure I don't go overboard with that. I gained weight after Kirk's birth because while I was nursing some, I wasn't nursing much. But I was ingesting enough calories for full time milk production. I suppose for the moment (the barnacle is attached to my boob as I type this one-handed) I don't really need to be concerned. Everything will change when I go back to work.

Regime Change

We finally found a new daycare. First I was looking into preschools for Kirk but they were all ridiculously expensive if you needed all-day coverage. Then I was looking into centers that had preschool programs as well as infant care but they were all ridiculously expensive. So then I started going through in-home daycares and found that infant openings were rare and precious commodities. We interviewed a lady a couple of weeks ago and really liked her but wanted to do due diligence and check out some other places as well. But our car broke down and we couldn't make it to the next appointment I had set up.

I decided it must be fate. First of all, this new woman is walking distance from us. That's...miraculous actually. And she had given me a phone list of her kids' parents and the ones I spoke to gave her unbelievably glowing reviews. And I was completely and utterly paranoid that we'd loose out on the infant spot if we didn't just jump on it. So Kirk and Ronnie will be starting when I go back to work.

Which means that I gave two weeks notice to K on Monday. I'm going to keep Kirk at home with me and the Bundle my last two weeks of leave. We'll save a little bit of money and it'll give him a more defined transition period. I've been mentioning to him that when his sister is big enough to get to go to daycare he'll get to go with her. And he attended the interview at C's house with us so he got to play with the toys and meet her and seems cool with it all. I know he'll miss his little friends but we can always have play dates.

The thing that I found troubling was that K did not seem in the least bit surprised when I called her to give notice. Granted, it's probably common sense that we wouldn't want to do dual drop-off in the mornings and that we'd want Kirk to be with his sister. But that implies that she would have known that when she gave away our infant spot. She didn't tell either Mr. b or I that we were in competition. That she was interviewing another family. She just announced to me, via email, while I was pregnant that oh, by the way, she won't be able to take the new baby. And that hasn't sat well with me all this time.

Friends and co-workers have been rather vociferous on the subject. But I honestly have only the best things to say about the care that Kirk has been given during his couple of years with her. Yet there have been some other professionalism issues that have come up, all having to do with scheduling. Largely they were the result of miscommunication but it was frequent enough that we actually had to have words about it. And I think that since that point we have been passive aggressively pushed out. Even Mr. b agrees with me on that theory, and he is notoriously unaware of subtext. It's sad and I don't understand why we got that treatment but there it is. So now we'll get to start all over. I'm just glad to have the frantic search completed. I feel really positive about the new place.

What's On My Mind

Ronnie continues to be a champ at nursing. The only position we don't seem to have mastered is laying down in bed; it's good enough that I can catch an hour of sleep before returning her to her bassinet if I'm desperate. She does, however, go through these periods of feeding frenzy every few days where she's chomping at my nipples and demanding boob like every 30 minutes. Usually in the evenings. When I get to the point where I can't take her squirming anymore then I pass her on to her dad. Mr. b has been working on bottle training her. It's slow going but he reminded me that it was hard work with Kirk, too. And she's obviously got to learn.

I'm still not getting much via pumping but I guess I don't care. We can have Ronnie on formula at daycare and I'll continue to pump when I go back to work and that's what we'll have for everything in between.

Kirk continues to be absolutely smitten with his sister. He takes his big brother duties very seriously. If I ask him to watch her for a minute, he'll literally watch her. He loves announcing that she "wants boobie" when she starts to fuss. He's very patient and understanding about the fact that she doesn't do anything yet. He talks about how she's growing and will learn things. It's darling and sweet.

I think we've finally discovered his reversion though. Kirk wants to sleep in our bed a lot again. It's been quite some time since he's done that. If Mr. b happens to be crashed on the couch or downstairs I don't mind because there's enough room, even if Ronnie is next to me instead of in her bundle bin. But all four of us gets crowded! Last night Kirk just brought himself to our bed; I have a vague memory of him showing up and Mr. b just woke up and he was there. The problem was that Kirk apparently thought that if I was awake at 4 am nursing his sister then he could be up and jumping around and telling stories. His father got him put back into his own bed after that.

I took the bundle in for the obligatory visit at work yesterday. I can't believe my leave is already half over.

I'm so ready to start the allowed-to-have-sex-again countdown.

I think I've already lost the miniscule amount of baby weight I gained this time. My pants all fit already. And I haven't even started exercising yet. I plan to start that next week. I can feel the laziness in my muscles. Or at least, I can feel it during those rare moments when I'm well rested. I'm eating like a maniac, however, so I think milk production must be helping. The lactation nurse at the hospital said you need an extra 300 calories a day when you're pregnant but an extra 500 when you're nursing. Damn. I can tell.

I need to investigate the rules for drinking. I've heard that beer can help with milk let down and I'm presuming that means one drink in general and not beer specifically. I figure one drink won't affect the milk. Mr. b has bought me a couple of those flavored Smirnoff thingies and I haven't been able to finish one the two times I've had one. (Of course he bought me tall boys both times and then got to finish them himself so there may have been an ulterior motive there.) I know the phrase "pump and dump" but I don't know the details. At what point does the alcohol hit the milk ducts? Is the milk that's in there when you start drinking fine? What if you can't drain it all or how can you tell it's safe again?

There's a subtle difference to how I view us as a unit now that we have two kids. Before we were a couple that had a son. Now we're a family.

Here's What Happened: Part 2

I think it was about 2:30 pm when we got to the hospital. They decided to conservatively estimate my water breakage as happening at midnight the night before. Therefore I was given a scant two hours to go into labor on my own.

My folks had already been on their way down when we called them from the delivery room so it didn't take them the full hour to arrive. Mr. b and Kirk went back home with Papa to prepare two overnight bags: one for Kirk and one for me. My mom stayed with me. Not that I was worried about having the baby on my own. I just was bored and didn't have so much as a magazine to read! We decided that since I still had another half hour before my deadline that we would walk the halls of the maternity ward and see if that could kick start things. It was weird reminiscing about how things had been laid out when I had Kirk (they were undergoing major remodeling then). I was actually sort of creeped out by the floor. I didn't want to have to hear anyone screaming during their deliveries. Thankfully it was pretty empty then. But every time we passed the doors to the caesarian surgery theater I had to suppress a shudder. I've never been knocked out for anything - heck, I even have all my wisdom teeth - and I've certainly never been cut open. I suppose if it was an emergency I'd get over my hang-up in a hurry but it definitely weirded me out.

I was also a bit freaked out by the prospect of having pitocin. I had never heard anything but horror stories about how it makes everything hurt so much more. So at about 4:30 my time was up and I was going to have to get an IV, thereby tying me to the bed for the rest of the ordeal. I asked the nurse about pitocin as she was trying valiantly to find a vein for the IV (she ended up with the back of my right hand - same spot as for Kirk's delivery). Apparently it's not that it makes labor hurt more. It's that it makes the contractions come on faster and stronger. Seems like a pretty fine distinction to me. But she also assured me that they administer the hormone in stages and that often it doesn't take much to kick start the body into action on its own.

They also put me on antibiotics again. With Kirk it was because I hadn't had the Strep B test yet. Well, we did that early this time and I knew I was negative. But since it had been 18 hours since the presumptive breaking of my sack of waters they wanted to just be on the safe side. Not that it mattered to me; I already had the IV in so just adding something else to it really didn't make any difference.

I definitely started to feel contractions by 5:30pm but they weren't really anything major yet. By this point the boys had returned and I was still able to actively converse. And I was hungry, having missed lunch, but they wouldn't let me eat much of anything. I had some jell-o and some graham crackers, some 7-Up and some water. I had a fetal monitor as well as a contraction monitor strapped to me and I had a button to push every time I felt the girl move. She was pushing her butt out against my right ribs with each contraction. I could actually sense her moving lower by where her butt was hitting!

My parents left with Kirk at about 6:15 pm. I was starting to have to actually focus as each contraction came, though I was still fine in between. They were definitely picking up speed though. The nurse had only turned the pitocin up once so I guess my body had picked up the slack on its own. My cervix had been checked back when I first was admitted and I was only dilated to like 3 cm and barely effaced at all. Since my amniotic sack had been broken they didn't want to check again for a while and so waited until 7 pm. By then the labor hurt. A lot. So I was beyond dismayed to learn that I was only at frickin' 4 cm. I couldn't believe that shit. The news that I was also 100% effaced didn't make me feel better at all. The nurse asked if I wanted to have nubain and I quickly agreed. Frankly I didn't see how it was going to do me any good if I still had six centimeters to go!

I felt very tripped out when the nubain hit my system. I don't remember there being such an obvious drug effect when I had it during Kirk's labor. But it helped. Instead of the pain of each contraction being stabby, it was more rounded. Most definitely still there but somehow less intense. I was able to relax somewhat. Mr. b asked what he could do and I just had him pet me: rub my back, rub my head and neck, smooth my hair. He crawled up onto the bed and snuggled against my back. Because by this point the girl was low enough they couldn't pick her up via the fetal monitor with me laying on my back. I was laying on my left side and Mr. b was spooning me.

And then something happened. I can only describe it as feeling the way that a snapped rubber band sounds. And then I was bearing down. I jabbed frantically at the bedside call button and shouted, "Something changed!"

My theory is that I went from 4 cm to the full 10 cm in an instant.

My own memory is hazy here. Mr. b says there were millions of nurses suddenly in the room, all discussing what was happening. They helped me roll onto my back and got my legs up into pushing position. There was no chance of finding the girl's heartbeat so I just pushed. And pushed. And pushed. I didn't think I could keep going. I had no strength left for another push until I heard Mr. b assure me that she was almost out. One more push and I felt her head come through and the rest of her body slide out. I heard her cry. It had been maybe five minutes, if that.

My doctor didn't make it.

Here's What Happened: Part 1

My water broke.

See, that just sounds so dramatic, doesn't it? You get a vision of a complete flood of fluid gushing out and making a mess. And maybe that's true for some women. For me it was more like a slow leak. And I didn't even pay any attention to it for hours. I had noted to myself that it was definitely a damp night. But since the doctor had just checked me out on that Monday and confirmed it was not amniotic fluid I just didn't really pay much attention. Saturday mornings are my designated sleep-in day of the weekend and I wasn't about to give up that extra sack time.

Mr. b had a hair cut appointment at Noon so I did finally get up and get dressed - showered and everything! - before we all left. I had planned to have a nice afternoon hanging out with Kirk in Dinkytown. We dropped Mr. b off and walked down to the bookstore that has kitties and puppies and birds and fishies as residents. I figured we could browse for a while and then get some lunch. But Kirk decided to be a royal jerk instead. After several stern talkings-to that made no difference, I finally dragged him outta there while he was screaming, "I wanna be nice! I wanna be nice!" So we set off on a brisk walk around the block to get him to calm down. My folks called while we were walking (Kirk was still alternating between, "I don't like you, Mama!" and "I wanna be nice!") to check up on me but I was frankly too focused on the bratty three year old by my side and blew them off. Kirk finally calmed down after several blocks and we made our way back to the hair place.

Mr. b's haircut was nearly done so we decided to just wait there. Kirk asked to use the bathroom and since preggos have to go all the time, too, I took the opportunity to pee as long as I was in there with him. And that's when I noticed that the discharge was sort of pinkish.

I got on the phone and called my insurance company's nurse line to ask if amniotic fluid was pink. The answer was, "It can be." So then I had to try to get a hold of my doctor. Of course my clinic's phone system is being upgraded and it was offline that weekend. The answering service took my message and all we could do was wait. But I didn't feel in the least bit like I was about to go into labor. We walked over to Mr. b's old cafe and got drinks, joking with his former employees that I was going to be having the baby that day. We figured that we'd just start heading towards the hospital. Doc called when we had just started out and suggested the same thing: just head to the hospital. They can confirm if it's really amniotic fluid or not.

When we got to the hospital, same place I delivered Kirk, I still had my unfinished chai in hand. We calmly walked into the emergency room and I stated that I needed to find out if my water had broken or not. With Kirk I was fully in labor at that point and don't really remember the bureaucracy we dealt with there. We just walked ourselves up to the maternity ward this time and I stated the same thing when we arrived. All while still working on my chai. They got us a room and I changed into a hospital gown. I had had one single contraction during the drive up and nothing since then. Kirk thought it was just neat to be at a doctor place where he wasn't the patient.

Our nurse went through all the various questions that I guess they have to ask for this process. He was pretty funny about them so it was quick and easy. He did dismiss my boys while he took the sample for testing. And the verdict was: I was going to be having a baby. It was indeed amniotic fluid and therefore the sterile environment was breached and the baby was coming out. Period.

I felt rather bewildered by all this. I mean, aren't you supposed to, I don't know, actually be going into labor when that sort of pronouncement is made? Everything was pretty much the exact opposite of how it went down with Kirk. Well, once again we laughed off the ridiculous idea of having a birth plan and once again we didn't have an overnight bag prepared but everything else was completely different. I had called my parents back on the drive to the hospital to ask them if they could come get Kirk depending on the results of the test. So I called them once again to confirm that Mom is indeed psychic and I was having the baby and Kirk would need someplace to stay.

The Boob Barnacle

I'm kind of perplexed by breast feeding. The actual nursing seems to be going fine. Veronica gained another two and a half ounces as of her Monday check-up. We'll have one more weight check next Monday and then we should be able to get on the normal well baby visits schedule.

My boobs are definitely heavy with milk. I haven't had any kind of painful engorgement to deal with, thankfully, but there's certainly no shortage of boobie juice for the girl. And yet I can't get anything from pumping. It's very frustrating. My sister loaned me her pump and it seems to be a good one and yet I'm only getting about an ounce of milk. Per day. Both boobs combined. I tried using the manual pump yesterday and it was the same results. I had a rental hospital pump with Kirk and that thing worked great. And I don't remember it making my nipples so sore afterwards either. I'm going to have to figure something out by the time I go back to work or else I'll be forced to wean just by dint of having my supply dry up.

Mr. b tried bottle feeding Ronnie for the first time Tuesday night. I thought it seemed like a good idea until he was actually doing it. I was appalled at how pathetic the fridge supply of milk was after all the pumping I had done. I was horrified at how quickly it was gone. And I felt utterly useless. My sole purpose has been to feed this child and I felt like my only job had been taken away from me. I sulked in the bedroom all night.

I'm certainly not afraid of formula. But with Kirk he was on both breast and bottle, both milk and formula from literal day one. So I never had the mental paradigm shift to handle. That's just how things were. Mr. b and I split the nights into shifts and took turns. He also had a different job then which allowed him to often be home during the day on occasion. So it felt like more of a team effort. Now it feels like it's just me. Which is both stressful and also great. Kirk hasn't wanted his mama for months now so at least this gives me something to do. But it's also wreaking havoc with the crazy post-partum hormone emotion roller coaster.

Sleep, Eat, Poop

The biggest difference between Ronnie and Kirk so far is that she's nursing. Kirk was nearly a pound smaller and just didn't have the sucking reflex down at all. Plus since he was in the Level II nursery for a week I never got a chance to really spend time figuring it out with him. It was all about measurable amounts of fluid, breast milk or formula, to get him to gain weight. So it was kind of weird to have Ronnie in the hospital room with me and to be released before the full 48 hours were even up.

However, she's still small so jaundice is a very real issue. She's definitely yellowish in her face and halfway down her chest. Her extremities remain pink. But she's eating well and has been pooping the real breast fed baby poop instead of just the newborn meconium so the bilirubin is definitely being expunged. Just not as fast as we might like.

The homecare nurse came to check us out on Wednesday and found that Ronnie had dropped down to 5 pounds 8 ounces. She was down to 5lb 11oz when we left the hospital, and a weight drop is completely normal, but this was only 1 ounce off from the 10% birth weight benchmark. So the nurse suggested we bump up our first well baby visit to Thursday instead of next week. Ronnie was back up to 5lb 10oz at the clinic but who knows if that's because she had just eaten and she was totally hungry the day before. Either way, her weight is looking good and she's already grown a half inch in height. The doc wanted to have her blood checked though and get a bilirubin count. Since she was on the edge of intermediate and high levels, we took her in again this morning for the same blood work. This time it dropped, only very slightly, but at least it didn't go up. Jaundice apparently peaks on day 4 or 5 after birth so again, that all lines up. Doc decided that she should be fine over the weekend and doesn't need to have any UV treatment. At least it would have been an at-home option (they have some kind of a psychedelic light blanket now) so it's not like we would have had to take her in or anything. He'll check her out again on Monday.

Basically the weekend plan is lots of boobie milk and laying in patches of sunshine whenever possible. Nursing is very sweet but man alive do my nipples take a beating. Ronnie hasn't settled into any kind of feeding pattern yet so it's pretty much every 2 hours no matter what. She's gone as long as 4 hours between sessions but then she's also had at least one cluster feeding every day where she wants to eat about every 30 minutes for a good 2 to 3 hours. Those seem to be happening in the middle of the night so I need to start going to bed earlier just to combat that insanity. We'll figure it out. Strangely, all the trouble I had with Kirk is benefitting me now. I already knew about various techniques for latching her on, breaking the seal, getting her to swallow, and on and on. Only this time I can put that knowledge to use. I'll start pumping next week and then Mr. b can take some of the feedings. He's been awesome, changing all the diapers and doing nearly all of the Kirk care. But I know he wishes he could do more.

Arrival!

Veronica Annette was born at 7:56pm on March 7th, 2009. She weighed 6 pounds 1 ounce and measured 18 and 1/4 inches long.

36 Weeks 5 Days

As of today I am officially more pregnant than I've ever been before. This is all new territory from here.

Silver Lining

OK, I've just been bitching non-stop of late so now here are some positives. Last night I didn't have a single contraction! Of course I still woke up to pee...but it was nice to not have to deal with any pains before falling back to sleep. In fact, since Monday afternoon I've really been feeling pretty darn good. Nothing at all like late last week or this weekend. That was truly miserable. I have zero clue what changed though. Was it psychological after my check-up? Did it take that long to "recover" from the barometric pressure shift? I know I've been told by women that have gone overdue that they hit a point late in their pregnancy where they stop feeling like hell and just sort of become resigned to their fate or something. Maybe my body went past its own internal due date and that's what happened to me? Honestly, anybody's guess is as good. I got nuthin'.

I do suspect that next week *could* be it since there's another weather system moving in and it's a full moon on the 11th. We'll see. Every day the little girl keeps cooking is a better chance that we'll avoid the Level II nursery this time.

I've also been blessed with the absence of two common pregnancy plagues: swelling and stretch marks. My legs have just the slightest bit of swelling but its really only enough to give me sock marks. I haven't had to deal with my shoes not fitting or my rings getting stuck on my fingers or anything like that. And I continue to be free of stretches on my belly. I escaped them with Kirk, too. Of course that could just be karma since I got plenty of nasty ones on the tops of my thighs when I put on considerable post-college weight thanks to an unexpected metabolism change. But I'll take it!

...Signifying Nothing

Nada. That’s how much more I’ve dilated since my last appointment. I must admit, I was pretty shocked. But New Doc explained that even though I’ve been having lots of contractions, they’re not steady enough or big enough to do much of anything. That makes sense but it sure doesn’t make me any less uncomfortable.

My extreme hunger has caused me to gain another three pounds, too.

The most interesting part of my visit this morning was all the checks that New Doc did to ensure that everything is on track and that the baby is safe and healthy. I made Mr. b go with me, just in case I got sent to the hospital, because I thought that I had leaked a tiny bit of amniotic fluid yesterday morning. It was certainly different than the usual discharge I’ve been used to seeing by this point. A few years back a friend started leaking when she was around 34 weeks but the baby’s head effectively blocked the leak and her water didn’t fully break so I knew that was a possibility. So first New Doc got out his little portable ultrasound and checked to make sure there were still lots of visible pockets of fluid. Check. Then he used a sterile, plastic speculum to take a look and visually confirm there were no leaks. Check. Then he used a litmus paper to check the pH of the vaginal sample and confirm it wasn’t fluid. Check. (Vag stuff is acid and amniotic fluid is basic. Chemistry is neat.)

So I continue to wait. And grin and bear it when the contractions come, knowing that nothing’s actually happening. I made my 37 week and 38 week appointments just now. We’ll see if I make it to either of them.

Timing

Thursday night Mr. b asked me if he thought I was going to make it through the weekend. I replied, "I honestly don't know."

We got a rather decent sized snow storm on Thursday afternoon. All evening I felt just shitty. Extra contraction-y and lethargic and weird. I figured it must be due to the barometric pressure change. I know a full moon can trigger labor so it made sense that the air pressure would, too. And then it would fit in with family mythology perfectly: when I was little I would ask "why" and "how come" questions of my uncle unendingly. Legend has it that one day he got sick of actually explaining things and exasperatedly responded, "It's the air pressure, [belsum]!" My parents have never let me live that down.

Yesterday morning I felt fine so it really seemed that it was, indeed, the air pressure.

But last night it started in again. Early evening and into the night the contractions started up. I wasn't timing them or anything but there was certainly a repetitive feeling. Almost a rhythm. They're lasting longer, though they still don't truly hurt. Very uncomfortable, yes. Obviously my body is preparing for birth. If I make it to my next appointment Monday morning I'm betting I'll have dilated considerably more. However, my new theory is gravity. Because I've been feeling this way late in the day I have to wonder if it's just because I've been upright all day. I've been joking that I don't need to be on bedrest because I just work at a computer. But I honestly felt a lot better last night once I stretched out on the couch.

And this morning I feel fine.

Other similarities that I'm going to keep my eye on include serious hunger in the evening, craving for protein (especially red meat), and insomnia for an hour from about 3:30am to 4:30am.

I wonder how long this pattern can keep up?

Nesting

I’ve never understood the concept of nesting as an early indicator of labor readiness. I mean, isn’t the very point of being knocked up that you need to make your home welcome for the new arrival? That you’re going to have to clean and organize and just generally prepare for another human to share your space?

I have been doing some strange cleaning projects of late, however. But they’re once-every-year-or-longer things that have been bothering me for a while. I’ve been slowly wiping down all the tile on the bathroom walls. It’s never been done more than on an as-needed basis and it was driving me nuts. I took down the living room curtains and washed them last night. They were accumulating cat hair thanks to the stupid billis parting them to look out the windows. Since I was going to wash the bassinet cover anyway it seemed like a good time to do those as well.

Mr. b might be the one that’s done something more traditionally considered “nesting”. He embarked on a reorg of the basement! He claims it was merely a “good enough” cleaning but it’s amazing what a difference it has made. It always feels like there’s so much more livable space when you clear out the clutter and the dried up old stealth cat pukes that we never discovered.



I have, however, been feeling crafty. I finally completed Kirk’s requested Boppy pillow case using the remains of the Incredibles fleece he picked out around Halloween. I want to get back to the embroidery project I started a couple of months ago. And add some more to the rag rug in the kitchen. I also need to get started on the tomato hat I wanted to crochet for the girl. (Full disclosure: I bought the yarn when I was pregnant with Kirk and never made it then either so don’t hold your breath…)

The End is Nigh?

Yesterday morning was my latest ob check-up. I’m at 34 and a half weeks and am already 2cm dilated. Now, New Doc made sure to mention that it’s really quite common for a non-first timer to be that dilated already but he’s also finally fully onboard the this-baby’s-comin’-early train. That’s the whole reason he did the internal exam in the first place. After talking through all the usual stuff (weight gain 1 pound, belly measures 35cm, baby heartbeat normal, blah blah blah) he decided that we’d better go ahead and do the Strep B test. I never had it last time so it was all new to me. Hell, I’ve never had my cervix checked when I wasn’t in labor so that was a new one, too!

New Doc explained how they measure the centimeters by the size of their finger tips. That actually made sense to me. When I used to work in the field we all knew the length of our stride so we could easily count off the correct number of paces for 10 meters. You just need that initial baseline and then go with it. But what freaked me out a little was when he said that he could actually feel the head through my cervix. Whoa. So does that mean she’s dropped? Not sure the actual definition of “dropping”. My hips are sore pretty much all the time so obviously my pelvis is spreading. I can feel a strange sort of pressure on my labia that must be from everything above starting to come downward. I didn’t pay much attention to these kinds of details last time because, well, I wasn’t expecting to have a baby a month ahead of schedule!

Upon New Doc’s request, I actually rescheduled my next appointment for earlier in the week. Since Sunday is my day for the week count to reset, having the 36 week one on Thursday would put me at 36 weeks and 4 days. Well, I had Kirk at 36 weeks and 5 days. So. Now it’s set for Monday instead. We’ll see if I actually make it or not. Ideally it would be good to make it over that 37 week line but I’m finding that less and less likely.

The Braxton Hicks have started to come more frequently. They used to be at night only and now show up whenever the hell they feel like it. There’s no pattern still but the intensity has certainly increased. It’s often a much sharper feeling, verging just on the edge of pain, instead of the general sort of squeezing tightness they’ve been causing previously. And sometimes they definitely last longer than just for a brief moment. On top of that, my first trimester constipation issues have returned with a vengeance. Only now that I know I’m already dilated, I’m sort of paranoid that pushing out a turd will be bad for the baby! Plus the poo cramps mix in with the BH and make my entire abdominal region just a festive mélange of uncomfortable annoyances. Oh and the back aches. Let’s not forget those. General pregnancy posture issues? Precursor to back labor? Who knows. But I totally have old man back and I grunt and sigh when standing. It’s kind of ridiculous.

Mr. b’s workmates have started a baby pool. I’ve been trying to make sure all my work items are squared away. What I really need to do is buy some frickin’ Dreft and wash the few non-spit-up stained, non-gender specific items I pulled out of Kirk’s old bin and the adorable prezzies sent by last year’s Best Original Screenplay Academy Award Winner so they’re ready to go. Everything else we’ll figure out as it’s needed.

Perception

We picked Kirk up from daycare last night and told him we were going to go straight to the glasses store. He sincerely, and with a great deal of concern, asked, "Do I have to put poop in the potty to get my glasses?" He was overjoyed to learn that no, he does not have to put poop in the potty to get his glasses. Heh.



They had a great selection of cool kid frames at the one-hour place at the mall. Referencing a photo of David Tennant's Tenth Doctor, Kirk's only requirement was that they were black.



The biggest challenge is going to be getting Kirk to look through the glasses. He wears them down on his nose and looks over the top. We've been reminding him non-stop to push them up. I've been trying to explain that he needs to look through them in order to help his eyes see things close by. I honestly don't think he's seeing that much of a revelatory difference in his vision so far. It's not like he's in school and needing help focusing on his homework or reading assignments! Mr. b pointed out that he does look at books that we read to him and watch DVDs on the little portable player and paint pictures and that's all close to his face but it's not the same as focusing on schoolwork. I did notice tonight that he was rubbing his weaker eye so I just have to cross my fingers and hope that it's already being forced to work harder.

All this glasses talk has caused me to think through our immediate family members and catalogue who wears and glasses and when they got them. My brother was in elementary school, possibly fifth grade or so. I don't remember when my sister got hers but I think it was about the same time. They both have relatively weak prescriptions though. My mom's out of town so I haven't asked her but my vague memory is that she also was closer to junior high when she got her first specs. My dad didn't need anything until recently and that's just your standard age-related reading glasses. Mr. b's brother, like him, doesn't need corrective lenses. His aunt, however, started wearing them sometime in K-2 and has needed them ever since. She even apologized for her part in passing along bad genes! The smoking gun, so to speak, would seem to be her brother, my father-in-law. Mr. b's dad had a lazy eye when he was little and needed serious coke bottles. That's exactly what would happen to Kirk's slight cross eye if it went untreated! My FIL apparently stopped wearing them in high school at some point - he certainly didn't wear them in Nam - but started again in his late 30s and is now almost completely blind in one eye. I do wonder if it's the same eye that was lazy as a kid and if that lengthy hiatus from glasses had anything to do with it.

I think the hardest part for both Mr. b and I is the realization that Kirk is never going to look the same. When he first tried on his frames at the store we sort of had a collective heartbreaking moment, knowing that this is our son now. He's a glasses kid. It's momentous and a milestone and amazing. His sister will literally never know him looking any other way. He will always have had glasses in her memory. Sure, he won't wear them constantly and someday he'll likely demand contacts or laser surgery or whatever but by then we'll instead be used to him with glasses on his face. It's just going to take some adjustment time. It's a cognitive leap or something.

Hindsight?

So. Kirk needs glasses.

This morning I took Kirk in to the eye doctor. Doc had suggested that we go have him checked out, oh, about a year ago and it finally happened. He was such a good boy. He was really kind of freaked out about it but brought with his little felt kitty puppet he made at daycare a while back because it was loosing its eye and needed to see the eye doctor, too. The nurse ran him through a bunch of tests. Instead of a regular chart he got to identify pictures of things like a hand, a bird, a tractor, and a cake. He was having fun and she was absolutely awesome with him. Then came the “magic raindrops”. He did not like those. I didn’t realize they were going to dilate his pupils so the entire appointment took about three times longer than I was mentally prepared for.

After playing in the lobby for a half hour we went back in. Kirk was complaining about how his eyes were “weird” and I assured him they would go back to normal. I’ve only had my eyes dilated once but yeah, it was weird all right. It’s sort of funny to see a kid with giant acid-trip pupils! The nurse checked out his eyes with a series of lenses and then eventually the doctor himself came in. Kirk was fabulous. He was so calm and well behaved while the doctor used all his lights and lenses and various other doodads and “doctor tools”. I was unbelievably proud of my son.

And then I got the verdict: he’s farsighted. He’s got a common little kid thing called strabismus that usually develops around age 2 or 3 and doesn’t necessarily have to be genetic. In fact, one of the factors is low birth weight. Well, he certainly had that. The doctor didn’t think that the plagiocephaly, or flattened skull, had anything to do with its development. The problem is, if the glasses don’t help to strengthen his weaker right eye, then he’ll have to have an eye patch. Great. But at least now we know. It explains why the one eye sometimes seemed to be turned inward, but not always.



Tonight we’re going to get Kirk’s glasses prescription filled. This is all brand new territory for both Mr. b and I. Neither of us have ever had anything other than perfect vision. But we’ll become experts fast enough since it sounds more likely that Kirk will need lenses for life, rather than eventually grow out of it. It could happen but it would be years from now. So we’re going to make sure he knows how special he is. Good thing he’s already a big Doctor Who fan – he’s going to get his very own brainy specs! I’m sure we’ll see kids in cartoons wearing glasses everywhere once he’s got them but at the moment only Clark Kent is coming to mind. Mr. b asked Kirk’s godfather to come by wearing his own glasses and taunt us for not being cool enough to get to wear them. I also suggested we let Kirk pick out someplace for us to go to dinner tonight to celebrate picking out his new frames. I’m assuming that’ll mean either the Taco Rice Restaurant or the Spaghetti Restaurant. (Which is a win for Preggo Mommy as well!) And then we’ll have a new thing to fight about when we have to make sure that he actually does wear the suckers every day, all day. Because in two months we have to go back and have a muscle check. Hopefully we won’t also need to pick out pirate role models to convince him that patches are the coolest.