Let's start at the very beginning; a very fine place to start.

I have been slowly arriving at this point for the last 13 or so weeks.
After gaining 50 pounds during pregnancy (holy shit, yeah I know...) and coming home with the realization that our baby did NOT in fact weigh 20+ pounds, it's no surprise that I am still hanging on to a final 15-20 pounds. I say 15-20 because every morning on the scale is a different number. Just when I think it's only 15, the next few days tell a slightly heavier tale.

So it is time to do something.

So far I have been clinging to the hope of the magical breastfeeding myth. The one where all your pregnancy weight (plus some) disappears just by the simple act of breastfeeding your child. I think every post-partum woman prays for this to happen. And honestly, with Avery it did. I lost all my pregnancy weight by 6 weeks, and by the time she was 8 months old, I had lost the extra 13 pounds left over from Bailey as well.
I am tired of feeling fat and witnessing way too many double-chins in recent pictures.
And while I have been seeing the scale gradually decreasing since about 8 weeks post-partum, it has been slow going...
probably due to a variety of factors, including but not limited to:
 *  Christmas and its delicious treats

 *  Bailey's birthday and the cake, cupcakes, and pizza that came along with it

 *  a certain 3 month-old who sleeps very sporadically

 *  this winter weather

Living in the Midwest during the winter basically guarantees you will be stranded indoors for a good four months. I don't have access to a gym, and we don't have exercise equipment at our house. And I am not venturing outside with several inches of snow on the ground. Period.

 

I have decided to do a couple things.

One - Cut out the junk food.
I have a sick habit for chocolate and any of its variations. I just bought 3 large Sam's Club bags of delicious Easter candy (think small Reese's peanut butter eggs) to hide for the girls on Easter morning and I had to beg Jared to hide it from me until Easter. I have no self-control when it comes to seasonal Reese's products...
Two - Workout videos - meaning the free variety you find on the Internet.
Three - Write my plan on this blog so that I can hold myself more accountable.

Today was Day #1.

I looked up free online workout routines. There were quite a few promising-looking ones. I picked one that was low-impact cardio for beginners. It was 30 minutes long. I meant to just start with a simple 5 or 10 minute video, but this one looked harmless enough. I hooked the Ipad up to the TV and cleared all the toys out of the living room. (That alone was a 5 minute workout. Sad, but true.) Some of the exercises recommended 2-lb weights, so I scrounged up a couple cans of Hunt's tomato sauce to do the trick.

I put Graham on a blanket on the floor out of harm's way and the girls and I got ready to exercise. Of course they saw me with my "weights" and needed some of their own. So Bailey was pumping iron with some Rotel and Avery had some mini cans of green chilies.

It was a good video. The lady went slow enough to let you figure out the moves before starting, very necessary for me. Beginner, remember? It was 7 different exercises for one minute each, with some of them requiring one minute for each leg. Then those same exercises were repeated two more times through.
The first set of 10 minutes was easy. Me and my tomato sauces were doing excellent.
The second time through I was feeling a bit less energetic. It was harder to dodge roaming toddlers.
By the third set, I had put down the sauce! My arms were heavy enough as it was. But Bailey wasn't having that. She ran to get my discarded tomato sauces. Mommy, you need your cans! Okay, okay. Even my own child is telling me to suck it up.

By the end of the video I was thoroughly sweating and cursing that skinny, smiling bitch leading the exercises. Easy for her to do - her part was edited in different small clips. It was just the same loop of her and her refreshed looking smile, maintaining the same demanding speed, looking like she was enjoying herself. And every time I would start to slow down, the narrator would say Keep up that same speed from earlier! Or when I thought to myself, "My form sucks. Oh well..." he would insert Remember - form is important!  It's like that dude was right in my living room.

I think I will stick with the videos. With easy access to a variety via the Internet, I can switch it up and have a variety. And the girls enjoyed it too for the most part. After the exercise video I pulled up YouTube, and we danced to a few different music videos. Anything that gets me up and moving is a step in the right direction.

I have no delusions that I am going to weigh as much as I did back in high school. Or that I am going to change into some person who loves exercise. (because I definitely don't.)
I just want to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight and maintain from there.
Plus, with the exception of only three months, I have been in either maternity or nursing-friendly clothing for the past 4 years.
FOUR YEARS.
That is a long time. I am way overdue for a new wardrobe. (At least I am once this one stop eating from me - aka probably another 9 months minimum.) And I would prefer to fit into my old clothes again in the meantime.

So if anyone wants a good laugh, feel free to cruise past our house mid-morning. Through our big picture window you just might see me jumping around and doing all kinds of weird moves.
There might even be a tomato sauce can or two, especially if that drill sergeant Bailey is around.

Graham's First Days

As previously announced, our little man is finally here!

It all started last Saturday morning when I stood up out of bed and felt a small, but distinct gush of fluid. Since my water broke with both of my previous pregnancies, I knew what it felt like. I waited around for hours but never felt anything else. The next morning the same thing happened again, and then again but in small amounts. We called the L&D floor and they advised us to come in.

Once we got there, they checked me and determined that my water probably had a "slow leak" but I wasn't dilated past 2cm. Based on my "unfavorable cervix", I was only given the option of a c-section. {the VBAC I had so badly wanted was out.} Since I already had one scheduled for less than 24 hours later and I was already at the hospital, we decided to go ahead with it on Sunday morning.

Phone calls were made to notify family and I was prepped and ready around 11:15 AM.

At 11:37 AM on November 25th, Graham Ellis Solko entered the world weighing in at 10 pounds 3/4 ounces. We knew he was big based on every single person in the room commenting on what a "big boy" he was.
[And it hurts me to admit that my doctor was indeed right.]

 

My mom, Beaner and Justy were outside the OR waiting to hear the news.

{Fe was at our house with Bailey and Avery.} 

Jared - in typical fashion - sent them a head-shot picture with Graham's stats but no name - further torturing them by not telling them whether Baby was a boy or girl.

 

Everyone was very excited to learn that Baby Solko was indeed a BOY.

And while it wasn't a surprise for us, I am glad we let it be a fun surprise for everyone else.

 

 

 

And while my body was still tremoring from the hormones and meds, I got the chance to hold Graham for the first time.

 

Delivering by c-section is such a weird thing.

One minute you're pregnant and the next you're not, and you really have very little to do with the process.

 

With my VBAC, it was emotional. You are working so hard to push that little body into the world and your feelings are all over the map.

With a c-section, it's like, "Oh, you're here..."

It's just so surreal to finally hold that baby in your arms - the one that was just punching you in the stomach not 30 minutes before. So while I didn't break down in to tears, I just remember feeling so very, very grateful to have him here with us.

 

 

The aunts wasted no time in arguing over who got to hold Graham next. 

 

 

Justy admits to having cried like ten times.

I am glad she got to be present for the birth - even if it was standing outside an OR. She was away at college for both of the girls' births and was excited to be here to welcome Graham into the world. And since she now lives the closest, she was able to be the aunt who visited daily this time around.

 

My sisters and my mom were all amazing this past week. They watched the girls at our house while Jared stayed with me in the hospital. I never had to worry about how the girls were doing because I know they LOVE their aunties. And Grandma too.

 

 

 

 

I think my dad was probably the most surprised and happy about Graham's birth, especially about his middle name. Since Papa Jeff didn't get any boys of his own, a grandson is a little extra special. Just hearing that my dad cried after learning he had a grandson, made me cry. (Make that number 11 for Justy.)

 

Bailey and Avery came up to meet their new brother on Sunday night. 

At first Bailey was a bit confused with all the "look at your new brother" talk. She walked over to the baby, looked at him, and then looked at my stomach, then looked back at him... It slowly started to register.
"Mama's baby?" she asked as she pointed to new brother Graham.

 

But within a few minutes she was planting kisses on her new brother and checking out the mass of dark hair on his little head.

 

Avery loves to give kisses to every baby she ever sees and her little brother was no exception. 

 

 

Since visiting in the hospital, both girls have been sick with runny noses and a cough that would put pack-a-day smokers to shame, so they had to wait to see baby brother at home.

But Baby Graham was definitely on their minds.

 

The first thing Bailey told Justy upon waking up the next day was:

"Justy! Justy! I have a baby brother! She's so cute!"

 

 

Our hospital stay was almost uneventful.

Recovery from a c-section just sucks. But this one went much better than I had hoped. I was able to feel and move my legs within a couple hours, which compared to around 12 hours last time - definite improvement. My pain didn't require a PCA and I got around pretty easily. Even better, my doctor didn't pretend to have any clue about how to get my blood sugars back under control after delivery, so he let me do my own thing. With some assistance from my educator, I am getting back to my normal pre-pregnancy needs pretty quickly.

 

 

 

Graham, being the son of a diabetic mom, had to have an IV put in to give him sugar water to maintain his blood sugars. This was new for us since neither of the girls had this done in Omaha. Because of the IV, his blood sugar was checked every 4 hours around the clock. His sugars never once dropped and we were able to get rid of the IV by Monday night - a big positive since we were told he might need it till Wednesday.

 

The pediatrician heard a slight murmur - also common in newborns, especially those of diabetic moms - so an echocardiogram was performed. Nothing out of the usual was noticed - just some small things that resolve themselves in a couple weeks. {But just the fact that we had to do one makes a hormonal mom extra nervous.}

 

And because of Avery's history of severe hyperbilirubinemia that came out of nowhere, we requested they check his bili level often. Over a period of a couple days it kept increasing, but never enough to reach a level that required more intervention than a naked nap in the direct sunlight. We had a follow-up trip to the lab today and his level was still stable. We go to the pediatrician tomorrow to recheck it again and hopefully - with all the hard work he has been doing in the baby poop department - we will find it is on the way down. Thankfully he seems to enjoy his time in the sun.

 

                             

 

Overall, things have turned out well. Throughout my pregnancy I found myself missing The Med Center in Omaha many many times, but in the end I still have a healthy baby boy.

 

And I must admit that the staff at the hospital were extremely helpful. I felt very encouraged to breastfeed, which isn't always the case with all OB nurses. My delivering nurse was insistent that I do so as soon as I could following my c-section. Little things like that can make a big difference, especially if you are feeling not so great right after having major surgery. Encouragement can go a long way.

 

The best part of not delivering in Omaha was that more of my family was close and able to come visit. After all, that is why we moved back. It makes me smile to see the proud looks on my parents' and grandparents' faces when they looked down on Graham.

 

 

 

We were surrounded by people who love us and were truly excited to share in our joy. We had people gladly volunteering to stay and care for Bailey and Avery at a moment's notice. I could hear the exclamations of excitement when Jared called his family to give them the news. We are lucky to have such great family and friends.

 

We were both discharged yesterday (Wednesday) afternoon. It felt so good to be home.

 

A family of five.

finally.

 

(And of course Bailey has to do her best to ruin a possibly cute picture...)

 

So now to just enjoy the upcoming hours, days, months of new baby-ness.

 

I am always amazed at how much I absolutely love the smell of a new baby.

Even the diapers seem less disgusting than I remembered.

I love the snuggles.

The breastfeeding has come back easily thanks to my big boy's appetite.

Baby clothes seem so small, even on our 10-pounder.

 

Now I am off to give snuggles to all three of my babies.

Introducing Baby Solko #3

 

It's A Boy!

 



Graham Ellis Solko

 

November 25, 2012

11:37 AM

 

10 lbs  3/4oz

21 inches

No News

...is not necessarily good news.

Especially when you are impatient.

I am still hanging out. Pregnant. Large. Uncomfortable. (You get the drift.)
And getting slightly anxious since Wednesday's appointment put a c-section on the schedule for Monday morning.
Baby officially has less than 48 hours left to make its move.

We've been keeping busy though.

Thanksgiving has come and gone.
We spent Thanksgiving Day at my parent's house with my sisters. I stuffed myself on the usual Turkey Day food and indulged in an extra piece of pecan pie. Then that of course was followed by the usual food coma nap.

Yesterday we had our celebration with my mom's side of the family. We did soup and sandwiches and everybody got a chance to comment on the large butterball displayed around my middle.
(Not to mention the two hams I am passing off as my feet nowadays.)

And to add to the fun, Avery has been sick and whiny and damn-near unbearable. Tylenol seems to help for about an hour and a half and then she is back to being inconsolable.

So most of this week has been divided between tears and screams and this:

Clearly the second option is way better.

Also yesterday I forced the Christmas spirit upon our house.
The Thanksgiving decorations are down and Christmas is in full swing. We put on some festive tunes and Jared enjoyed stringing the garland around the staircase. {Which is a total lie; that is his least favorite job ever.} All the snowmen and Santas are on display and the tree is lit.

All that's left are some outside lights to hang (also falling under Jared's job description) and personalized stockings to order once Baby is here and the name is set in stone.

I love Christmas and the decorations around the house. I am excited for an excuse to drink hot chocolate - heavy on the mini marshmallows - and I would even welcome a little snow on the ground in a few weeks. After all, I am going to have a big excuse to stay planted on the couch wrapped up in a blanket with my own miniature human heater. :)

38 weeks

So my doctor's appointment yesterday went basically as I had expected. Except my doctor did say a little bit more than "too bad" to my request for a trial of labor.

As anticipated he brought up the points of me having a 10-lb baby - based on adding 2 pounds to my ultrasound last week (which honestly, seems a bit stretching it in my opinion, but I guess I am not the one with MD behind my name...) and started to spout off all kinds of scary statistics about shoulder dystocia and the risk of uterine rupture because of my previous c-section. The word "lawsuit" came into the conversation a few times, and I know that obviously is a big reason for some docs to push hard for an "easy" scheduled c-section.

I respect his opinion, but had to bring up some points of my own.
I have been doing my own research and reading the recommendations on all these topics.

{My college OB instructor Kim Riffel would have been proud.}



And he did agree with a lot of the info I brought up, which is funny because it contradicted some of his previous statements.
Overall, he tolerated me pretty well...
even if he did jokingly(?) say, "I am starting to regret ever having met you."

Oh well.
My body, my baby.
I know in the end I will have little choice in how it all goes down due to my high-risk status (stupid diabetes) and having had that previous section (darn you, Bailey!), but I am not the type to just let him essentially use scare tactics to force me into submission. I at least want to discuss the facts a bit and challenge him on some of the points that seemed a little dooms-day extreme.

So the plan:

If I go into labor on my own by next Tuesday morning, I will be "allowed" to do a trial of labor for a VBAC. This is the best case scenario. Since I had a successful VBAC last time, I have even better odds of success and a further lowered risk of uterine rupture.
(Of course this is where my doctor points out that I may not be able to deliver this monstrous sized baby I am apparently carrying around.)

If I don't go into labor on my own by next Tuesday the 27th, I will be coming in that morning for a scheduled c-section.
The only positive to this is that I talked my doctor into checking my progress that morning. If I am dilated to 4 cm or so and deemed "favorable," then he will consider the possibility of using Pitocin to advance my labor and allow a Trial of Labor. Although if it doesn't work out, I am sure the c-section suite will be there waiting for me.

So long story short - I am praying Baby comes on its own. And soon.
But either way, Baby will be here in 7 days. 

EEK!

Still hanging on

Yep, I'm still here.  No baby yet.

The days are going so very slow, yet so very fast.

Last Thursday morning I got a call from my doctor's office. It was just a follow-up call to let me know that everything was normal on the ultrasound, but my doctor will be wanting to "discuss my options" at my next appointment due to the baby's "large size." 
By dates I was 38 weeks at my ultrasound, so an estimate of 8 pounds really doesn't seem that huge to me. My mom's smallest baby was over 9 pounds. And in case you haven't noticed, I am not exactly a tiny person myself...

So my mind immediately imagines the conversation we are going to have, which basically goes something like this:
Doctor:  Your baby is measuring big. If you don't go into labor on your own by the 27th, we are scheduling a c-section.
Me: But I really don't want a c-section.
Doctor: Too bad.

Okay, there might be more to the conversation than that... but I am afraid he will deny me a chance at a repeat VBAC. And after my experience with Bailey, a c-section is the LAST thing I want. Personally I didn't enjoy not feeling below my waist for 12 hours and being so out of it that I almost dropped/puked on my baby the first time holding her. Not cool.

So for the past four days, I have been trying every "natural" thing to induce labor on my own - or at least "prime the pump" for Baby to get things started this upcoming week. We have been taking the girls on hour-long walks every afternoon. And Jared, with some help from YouTube and Justy, has been rubbing pressure points on my feet with gusto. It doesn't seem to be making much difference, but hey - it can't hurt, right?

Aside from hoping Baby will make an appearance soon, we have been busy doing other things.

{I really need to be better about taking pictures lately. All these word-only posts are probably getting pretty dull.}

We made cupcakes Friday afternoon with the girls in honor of Aunt Beaner's birthday. Bailey enjoyed whisking the batter and Avery was content to just sit on a chair pretending to help Jared make the frosting. Both girls knew the final reward would be licking the frosting-covered beater, so they were on their best behavior.

Saturday we loaded up and went to Jolley for a breakfast of biscuits and gravy. It had been years since I had gone and the huge vats of sausage gravy did not disappoint. Afterward we headed to my Grandma Connie's house so the girls could see her and Grandpa. As usual Avery screamed upon seeing her Great Grandpa Lyle, but she eventually warmed up when bribes of food were offered.

Also this weekend:
Board game time.
    {Rummikub is where it's at.}
I finished washing some final baby clothes.
I forced Jared into helping me organize a room in the basement.
TV time. Our DVR has finally been thinned out a little. So many good shows; such little time!

Right now I suppose I should drag my butt to bed. In a week or so I am going to wish I had the option of going to bed and sleeping for a good 8 or 9 hours straight like I do now (give or take about 5 different night-time potty breaks).
I really should be taking advantage.

Say some prayers for us that this baby decides to appear on its own this week so we can avoid surgery or a scheduled induction.
 

37 weeks

Okay, I am a day late.

But there has been nothing much to report on.

It's just the same old stuff.

We are anxiously awaiting Baby Solko #3's arrival.

I use the word anxious because after having two previous deliveries by 37 weeks, we seem to have it in our heads that this one will follow suit.

Jared especially seems to be on pins and needles waiting for me to call him with "the call." He has gone so far to put an old towel at my bedside "just in case" I need it for "easy clean-up" during the middle of the night. {Yeah, he is that ready.} My bag is packed, my pump is ready to rock 'n' roll, and sweet little baby outfits are awaiting a baby to clothe.

Today was my final ultrasound.
One last one to check baby's progress and weight.
Baby looks good. Weight was estimated to be at exactly 8 pounds, which is right around what I was guessing it would be. Baby gave us a lot of good looks at its sweet little face. And I am not gonna lie, Baby looks to be on the chubby side - at least looking at the little chipmunk cheeks.
On the ultrasound it was impossible not to notice the abundance of hair surrounding Baby's head. It was like a cute little halo of fuzz.
So in short - no bald babies for the Solkos.

I am trying not to be an overly eager pregnant woman who only thinks about when the baby in her uterus will be expelled, but it is proving to be hard this time around.
It also doesn't help that every time I call a family member lately, I don't even get a "Hi." 
I get, "Oh my God, are you in labor?!" or something to that effect.
Clearly I am not the only one with baby on the brain.

In other news, after my appointment today and some oh-so-wonderful grocery shopping, Jared and I ate supper at Perkins.
And it was Free Pie Wednesday.
Oh yes... Just what the doctor ordered...

Getting antsy

Another week is here. Man, did the weekend fly by in a hurry...

It was my first weekend without having to work for a while, which was nice. Jared and I haven't had a whole day off together for a few weeks. And my swollen ankles are glad for the break.

I will be 37 weeks tomorrow (or 38 by my original dates) and I am starting to really anticipate Baby's arrival. Technically, by ultrasound dating, Avery was born at 36w6d. So right now, this is the longest I have been pregnant. Since my water broke in the night with both of the girls, I am just waiting for it to happen again. And soon. Apparently Jared is as well, since he reminds me how to call him at work nearly every night before he leaves. With all this early preparation, it will be our luck that Baby will be content to hang out until we force an eviction in two weeks.

I am not truly in a hurry. I know that the longer Baby stays cooking, the better. (So spare me the you-shouldn't-want-to-go-early talk.) But at the same time I am getting excited to meet him/her. Plus, it will make the process much easier to go into labor on my own rather than being induced.

And because I am anticipating a big pop of amniotic fluid any second of every day, I am in a constant state of picking up.
Every night, no matter how tired I am, the kitchen must be spotless and the dishes must be done. And then because I am becoming obsessive-compulsive like that, they have to be put away. I find myself thinking, "My mom doesn't know where all this goes" as I am toweling dry all the dishes that most definitely could have waited until morning.
Because it is obviously a huge deal if a couple storage containers don't make it back to their properly designated location in the kitchen.

The rest of the house gets the same treatment. Laundry is getting done in record time, carpets are vacuumed often, and the bathrooms are spic-and-span if I do say so myself. I don't have much tolerance for clutter right now. So things that have been needing a home for a while are finding one rather quickly. (Now the challenge will be to find them when we actually need them in the future... Sorry in advance, Jared.)

We used the nice weather on Friday and Saturday to get some outside work done. Together Jared and I raked up and loaded 5 truck bed loads of leaves to haul away. One thing I miss about living in the country - you just blissfully let the wind blow them out of your yard. I will be happy to not have to look at another leaf for quite some time.  Then on Saturday I mowed our entire backyard. With a push mower. It really needed it, plus it mulched up some of the few remaining leaves. 
Jared joked that the neighbors probably think he is the biggest hard-ass husband on the block - making his hugely pregnant wife go out and rake leaves and mow the lawn. But truthfully it was my idea; I was just "nesting" out of doors.

Other than that, the additional car seat is installed. Our Pilot is looking a little crowded now with all 3 car seats in there.
A nice minivan is sounding better and better these days...

Right now I am just trying to enjoy my last remaining days of being pregnant. Only 15 left!

{But who's counting, right?}

And I am enjoying my girls, who at this moment are dancing around the room with their babies to the music playing on iTunes.
They are going to be such sweet big sisters.

Practice makes perfect

We're practicing up for Baby.

 

 

...even if this particular baby looks a little worm-like.

 

 

We've got a good grasp on holding Baby and patting out burps.

We've been relaxing around the house.

I've been enjoying my last days with just my two babes.

 

 

There have been lots of laughs.

And some fights over the ever-popular baby stroller.

And lots of sweet snuggle time.

{Daddy gets most of the 'uggle love, though.}

It seems I am hard to snuggle on lately.

 

36 weeks ... and a little pissed

Only three weeks left.
 
My doctor has agreed {with some strong persuasion from my endocrinologist} to deliver Baby by November 27th.
[It's pretty established procedure for diabetics to deliver by 39 weeks because the placenta ages faster in Type 1 diabetics.]

Now to get to the "pissed" portion of my title...

 

So yesterday I go in for another non-stress test. No big deal. They also started doing ultrasound measurements of my amniotic fluid - probably because last week I asked why they didn't do them, especially since my doctors in Omaha stressed their importance. {So apparently they decided to start just because I asked? Whatever.}

So I am laying on the table, chit-chatting while he takes all the measurements. It's literally just a little one minute long scan. Not checking anything about baby - just fluid.

Then out of the blue my doctor says, "Good news, it's still a  ______."
I literally sat upright and said, "WHAT?!"

He sputtered a bit and tried to cover his mistake, but his poker face needs some serious work.

I replied, "Did you seriously just tell me the sex of my baby?!"

He scrolls up on the screen a bit and points to Baby's genitals for further clarification - which seriously, I can't ever tell, so this wasn't helping in the slightest.

Then he says, "Oops. I thought you already knew."

Umm... no. I didn't know, asshole. But thanks for not even bothering to apologize.

We seriously waited for 9 months, and I find out randomly on an exam table - by myself - with only 3 weeks left to go?!  This seems unfair.
Every ultrasound I have ever had including ones that my doctor himself has done, I always say, "We don't know the sex, so don't tell me." I didn't this time because there was no reason for him to even mention it. Plus I had already told him at both ultrasounds last week.
Ahhhh! It's so infuriating.

It was sort of a shock to hear the news without expecting it. I was in a sort of daze as I left the office. By the time I got home, I was just upset. And I will admit it, I shed some tears over it.

Don't get me wrong, I am not upset over the sex of the baby.

I honestly didn't care one way or the other.

 

I am upset because this is - in all reality - our last child.
And I really wanted one last surprise baby.
I wanted to have that extra motivation during delivery.
I wanted to hear Jared announce, "It's a boy!" or "It's a girl!"
I liked the suspense of wondering what Baby would be.
I didn't want to know.

But now we do..
And picking names just got a little bit easier.

***

Side note:

 

Lesson Learned : Trust your instincts.

My first impression of my OB wasn't a very good one.
But with being high-risk, I felt I didn't have many choices. I should have cut and run right away. Plus any doctor who tells you to your face that he thought you were a "train wreck" probably isn't going to be your best bet. But by the time I was completely fed up, I was 30 weeks pregnant and it was a little late in the game.

As Jared put it:
If we ever decide to have another kid, this douche is definitely not getting our repeat business.

Amen.

35 weeks

{or 36 weeks if going by my original dates...}

It's going so fast.

Bailey made her grand debut at 36 weeks exactly.
And she weighed over 7 pounds.

So that goes to explain why when Baby moves it looks like a tidal wave of limbs rolling to the other side in my stomach.

I would like to pretend that the extra weight I have gained in the past week or so has been going directly to Baby. But it obviously isn't. It is going to my now-enormous ankles - easily a +4 on the pitting edema scale - and is creating a truly outstanding double chin. And Jared had to go and point out that I will look even more amazing once they pump me full of IV fluids. Can't wait.

But I can't complain about much else.
I still sleep great. I have to change position every time Baby changes sides because its little butt gets wedged uncomfortably high. But even that isn't a big deal. With a husband that works nights, I get a big ol' bed all to myself. Plus the girls have been sleeping in until 8 or 8:30 every morning -which is absolute heaven.
I am still waddling around just fine. I might look like I just had hip surgery when I get up from sitting too long, but at least I am moving! And tennis shoes? Forget about it. Flip flops are my friend and will be until there is snow on the ground, no matter how many comments I get from old people at the grocery store.

Baby's eventual name is still a work in progress. 
I know. Huge surprise, right?
We have it narrowed down to two options (I think?) for the girl name. The boy name... not so much.
Inspiration really needs to strike. And soon.

Everyday stuff

Nothing too exciting or memorable to write about these past few days... but I am going to anyway. :)

First things first, my last post was a bit premature.
I am a mean wife and mom.
And I basically forced Jared to return our new puppy.
 
When Thursday rolled around, after a few days of just me and the girls with him during the day, I was feeling very overwhelmed. Not because he was a bad dog or hard to handle.
He was just a puppy.
And puppies chew.  A lot.  And it's constant.
{Obviously I knew this beforehand, so don't think I am a total moron, but I was trying to think positively, even though I didn't want a puppy in the first place.}

And after my little hospital scare last week, I had been trying to take it easy... Or as easy as you can take it at home with two toddlers and housework to be done. Every few seconds I was trying to take something out of Puppy's mouth and redirecting him with an appropriate chew toy. The girls couldn't play with a single toy without him trying to steal it away and chew on it. I didn't really feel it was fair to them to not be able to sit on the floor putting together a puzzle or reading a book for fear of the dog tearing it apart.

I was also having brief visions of life in a month or two where I would be sitting on the couch with Baby attached to my chest and trying to quietly (but very sternly) yell at the dog to stop eating a favorite book or beloved stuffed animal. Just the thought of the stress and annoyance was too much. Jared understood my points, but he is still sad about it. I truly think he already loved Reese. He misses having a dog. And to be honest, I do too. But the time wasn't right and right now, Baby (and Mommy's sanity) has to come first.

This past week was the start of my twice-weekly non-stress tests (NSTs). So I get the privilege of driving an hour for 15 minutes worth of testing. Awesome. But it's for Baby to make sure he/she is doing okay in there, so I have little choice.
 
It's a simple thing. I get hooked up to a machine, with one part that measures Baby's heart rate and another that measures for any possible contractions. You want the test to be reactive - meaning that baby was reacting and having at least 2 periods of raised heart rates. If it is non-reactive that could mean potential problems with Baby, although not always. With Avery I had one non-reactive test and it was just because she was sort of on the lazy side for those tests. She apparently liked to nap at the precise time I had them scheduled.


I worked on both Friday and Saturday. And while they were pretty easy days, my feet were feeling the pain. I forgot how tiring it is to be on your feet for 12-hour shifts in your 9th month of pregnancy. My ultra-sexy compression stockings did not do much to help out.  Cankles for sure.  Thankfully I have a loving husband who took pity on me and rubbed them, and they soon resembled human feet again.

Today was a productive day.

I think both Jared and I are nesting.

My mom called this morning and asked if we would like her to take the girls for a few hours so we could finish the painting we have been putting off for going on three months.

Umm... YES. I would love for you to take my children off my hands for a few hours.

 

So after the girls were deposited at Grandma Sherri and Papa's house, things got real.
Jared finished painting the entire upstairs hallway, including all the door frames and bedroom doors. It wasn't a huge job; we just couldn't do it with the girls home because 1) they get into everything and 2) they get into everything. It looks great to have it all finished. Goodbye random spots of yucky grey trim!
Along with painting, mucho housework got done. All the bed sheets changed, load after load of laundry done, three bathrooms cleaned, new wall outlets installed... It's amazing how much you can get done without a 2 year-old and a 1 year-old underfoot.
And I realize that my life is a little pathetic since I get excited about getting long-awaited household tasks done, but hey, it's true. I feel much better knowing that our house is a little bit more put-together and organized.

This next week is going to be a busy one.

* Bailey is evaluated for her speech on Monday. If all goes well she is due to be discharged from the Early Access program and I am not sure how I feel about that. Because of her cleft, her speech is something we want to stay on top of and work on to prevent any problems. At the age of 3 she can be part of the speech program through the school system, so that is something we will have to look into.
*Along with my trips for NSTs, I also have one final trip to Ames for an endocrinologist appointment.
*And for fun things this week, trick-or-treating is Tuesday night. I am excited to dress the girls up and watch them go beg for candy. {Here is hoping Bailey stops choosing those nasty flavored Tootsie roll things!}  Bailey is going as a cheerleader and Avery is a chicken.  Cute pictures to follow.

A Night in L&D

It's a good thing we didn't have any plans last night.

Starting in the early afternoon I was having a lot of constant Braxton-Hicks contractions that seemed to not let up. I was writing a blog post while the girls and Jared napped and I didn't think much of it. By the time Jared got up at 2, I had been pretty uncomfortable for about an hour. I continued to do small things around the house until about 3:30 when I noticed my back was really achy and I was having the contractions pretty regularly. They were coming every 3 minutes and my blood sugar was over 370. (Normal is less than 120.) After sitting on the couch for a good hour and a half, the contractions stayed the same and my blood sugar wasn't coming down. Ugh.

So I called my doctor's office and they told me to do all the things I had been doing for the past hour and a half: rest, put my feet up, drink fluids, check my blood sugar. When they heard my blood sugar wasn't coming down, they insisted I come in.

So off we went to L & D.

Jared and I both knew (okay, we were pretty sure) it wasn't real labor. I had this happen once at 34 weeks with Avery too. It seemed like the same thing. My blood sugars spiked out of the blue and fake contractions came with it.

Well, after getting a cervical check, peeing in a cup, getting my blood drawn, and having IV fluids started, they couldn't find anything wrong. No infection. Nothing. I just basically doubled up on my insulin for a few hours until it finally came back into normal range. Throughout all this Baby was on a monitor and doing fine.

Regardless, they decided to keep me overnight just to be on the safe side.

So I got to spend a fantastic evening in the L&D Motel.
I know I have definitely slept in worse places, but in those instances, I was not pregnant and definitely not sober. And getting comfortable in a hospital bed with a bowling bowl-sized stomach while attached to an IV is a challenge to say the least. Not the most restful night...

So while I am happy everything is fine and it was just a mild false alarm, I could really use a nap right about now.

32 weeks

Another week gone by.

Another week closer to finding out if we have a little brother or sister to add to our bunch.
Or if you ask Bailey her opinion on the sex of the baby, she will tell you "brother-sister." Apparently she either can't choose or it's going to be a hermaphrodite.

Time will tell.

32 weeks is a big week - according to pregnancy books at least.
 
It's the week where you can take comfort in the knowledge that "almost every baby born at this gestation does well and goes on to live a normal, healthy life."
And after seeing friends who have struggled with pre-term babies and long NICU stays, every week that goes by is much appreciated by me.

Overall, I still feel pretty great.
There are a few moments out of each day that I am uncomfortable. Especially since Baby loves to wedge his or her little butt high up into my right ribs. Apparently that is the sweet spot because that is where Avery and Bailey each liked to be too.

But other than that, I still get a good night's sleep every night - or I would if everyone in our house would stop getting cold after cold! We all know poor Avery needs to be able to furiously suck her thumb and a plugged nose just isn't really helping things.

And I feel like I am doing pretty well energy-wise.
{Or as good as can be expected with a 2 1/2 year old and a 17 month old.}
I am however realizing the perks of a single-story house like I had with my first two pregnancies. Those stairs are a real killer by 7 pm...

30 weeks

 

 

Today was Baby's 30-week growth ultrasound. They just do a quick view for measurements to make sure Baby is growing adequately because of my high-risk status. 

 

Estimated weight:  3 lbs 9 oz  (60th percentile)

Estimated gestational age: 31 weeks

Heart rate:  157

Presentation: head down  (Yay!)

 

I am pretty stoked about the whole head-down part. My breech baby Bailey never did flip and Avery did around 34 weeks. So I am feeling ahead of the game this time around!

[Let's go, VBAC #2!]

Like I said, it was a quick ultrasound, but the tech did print me off a picture or two.

 

Not sure why the tech always thinks she has to type "face" into all the pictures...

 

 

And here from this head-on view, our baby looks like a smooshed alien...

It also doesn't help that Baby has its little hand over its face.

{I basically just posted this picture so my sister Fe can stare at it for 15 minutes straight and not make out so much as an eye.}

So that's it. Just another normal appointment - which I love.
 
We are still blissfully unaware of baby's sex.
And also (less blissfully) unsure as to what Baby's name might possibly be - although I feel like we *might* be making some progress in that department.

Baby's arrival is starting to feel closer.
We still have some things to accomplish.

Jared seems to be in the all-too-common Man LaLa-Land. He seems to lose track of how fast the weeks go and has it in his head that we have months and months left. This past weekend I reminded him that by my original dates, I would be 31 weeks pregnant. And my water broke with Bailey at 36 weeks to the day. So after doing some quick math... that is 5 weeks. You never know when Baby will decide it's time...

Cut to a few hours later -

Jared is hard at work, sanding down the baby's dresser that needs restained. 

 

Now if only both of us could be as motivated to pick out that pesky baby name!

Blah...

I have a major case of the blahs.

I might not be one of those people who is always exuding sunshine and rainbows (I sort of hate those people anyway), but I am a content person.
I am happy with what I have.
I don't define my happiness or success by having an exciting, high-paying job or designer clothes. I don't drive a fancy, expensive car and have absolutely no desire to.
I have my health (minus the damn 'betes) and my family. I have a great husband, two healthy kids, a roof over my head, and food (mostly cookies) in my belly. Life is good.

But that doesn't stop me from feeling really, just.... bleh...

I love our girls, but man-oh-man have they been driving me insane. Just completely bonkers. For the past 8 days I have heard more crying and whining than I think I have heard in the entire past year. Between both of them having horrible colds and Avery cutting the world's slowest moving molars, it's been all I can do to keep a small grasp on my sanity.
[I always know my feelings are justified when Jared of all people is peacing out for work early.]
That means it's bad.

I have found myself getting irrationally mad at Bailey for the dumbest things, like when she insisted on starting to count from 3 instead of 1 one day. I am sure she was doing it to get a reaction and the sad part is that it was working. It also isn't helping that she has officially decided to disagree with me on every single part of the day.

Typical morning:
     Me: Bailey, do you want cereal or yogurt for breakfast?
     Bailey: I want yogurt. Yogurt! Yogurt!
     Me: (give her yogurt)
     Bailey: No! No yogurt! I want cereal.
**Now apply this scenario to every single part of every day. Clothes, using the potty, brushing teeth, nap time, what book to read. The possibilities are simply endless.

It has to be hormones, right?

When in doubt, blame it on the hormones...

I don't remember ever having such a profound loss of patience about anything and everything. I could seriously fly off the handle at any given moment. And thank God for texting because it has probably saved me from going all-out super-bitch on someone at work a couple of times at least.
And, in general, some people are just so damn obnoxious. And annoying. It shouldn't bother me, but it does. I just want to roll my eyes. Constantly. And so I send a snarky text message to help put myself in check. {Apparently my maturity also made an exit along with my patience.}

I have just felt in a funk this past weekend. Saturday afternoon was all free and clear for me to do anything I wanted. The house was spic and span, the girls were taking an amazingly long nap, and Jared went to nap too. I had time to myself. But I just didn't want to do anything. I tried to read, watch a movie, take a nap, journal... nothing was doing it for me. I hate that feeling.

I apologize for this entire post.
It's kind of become an online vent session for me. But I feel a little better.
If I didn't have a bun in the oven right now, I would resort to a large, large Long Island Iced Tea and an iTunes mix of get-out-the-anger type songs (Beaner always has the best mixes of these) to make myself feel better. And it would probably work. But alas...*sigh*

Hopefully some of you fellow preggos and former pregnant ladies (and anyone who just likes a good bitch sesh in general) can relate. Sometimes you just have to let it out. And as much as I love being pregnant, I am ready to have my more even-keeled self back. [This is where Jared laughs to himself.]

Just looking at the pictures Jared took today made me feel horrible. I looked just plain fat in 90% of them and forbid him to post them anywhere. There is a reason I don't take pictures while pregnant - apart from the periodic side-bump shots. And apparently horizontal stripes are not your friend when it comes to maternity wear. Lesson learned. It sucks to have to learn it through photographic evidence though.

But there were some cute shots so I will post some of those. Jared bought himself a new camera lens with his gambling winnings from almost a year ago, so we went out to mess around and take a few pics with the girls.

 

 

 

 

Aren't they just too precious for words?

 



Moments like those remind me of how much I love them - snotty noses and all. Being a mom is really hard work. Much harder some days than others. But the sweet moments make all the other crap worth it.

 

And with this long-winded post, I believe I have talked myself out of my blahs.

Thanks for sticking it out with me.