Welcome MDG

There are a million things to say about the last two weeks, so I'll start at the very beginning.

I woke up in a foul mood.  Perhaps it was the rocky sleep from the night before.  Most likely it was everything on my mind that I mentioned in the last post.

J-Man, Mama H and I headed out early for my 6:30 induction.  Of course, because no birth story can be without surprises, we arrived to find that there were no empty beds. In retrospect, I took the news pretty well.  I simply wouldn't accept that the baby wasn't coming that day.  Period.  So as they hooked me up to some monitors in triage and did all the question-asking, I stayed calm.

By 10:30 I was in my own room and had been told that I was barely at a one, despite what the doctor the week before had told me (maybe she had tiny fingers?) so they wouldn't start pitocin until they started some other gel first.  It started with a p, or maybe a d?  Anyway, it got things moving.  J-Man and Mama H stayed by my side as the contractions picked up.

At 2pm Dr. M (who delivered PDG) came in to break my water.  I was more nervous this time since I hadn't yet gotten my epidural.  To my surprise, it wasn't so bad.  I might've taken it a bit too well though, since when I asked my nurse about 15 minutes later if I could get my epidural yet, the doctor responded to her "not yet."

The next two hours were pretty awful.  Sure it had taken me 3.5 hours to get from 1cm to 3cm but with the way those contractions were coming - faster and faster and stronger and stronger - I knew progress was happening unlike before.  I practically had to beg to eventually get the epidural.  Was it just that Dr. M. wanted me to know what the whole can't-walk-or-talk-through contraction felt like?  Because I learned.  And my body kept teaching me every 2-3 minutes.

At 3:51 I signed for my epidural and after what felt like an eternity (but probably wasn't) a questionable anesthesiologist administered it.  She also told me I might have mild scoliosis.  Ok.  Sure.  Maybe.  But is now the time to tell me?  Weird.

When that experience was over my nurse, Carlee (who was great) added the pitocin and the contraction-o-meter started to go off the charts.  Which would've been fine, if, just maybe, the epidural had kicked in right away.  But, next surprise, it hadn't.  So despite getting a cute tingle in my legs, my abdomen still felt every single tightening for the next long while.

Carlee had checked me around 4:30 and told me I was at an 8, but by 5:15 or so I was pretty sure I had to be complete.  She fiddled with a catheter and did some things on my chart as I finally started to get a little pain relief.  Maybe that's why I wasn't more annoyed that yet again it felt like no one was listening.

I told her I wanted to push so at 5:40 she checked again and said, "oh, yeah, his head is right here." So much for a catheter

J-Man asked, "so this baby should come in the next couple hours?" remembering the 2.5 hour pushing marathon from PDG's delivery.

"He might be here by 6" she answered, and stuff got real.

Despite the annoyances of the morning and early afternoon, I was finally in less pain and able to focus on the beautiful task at hand.  With J-Man on one side, Mama H on the other, and Carlee giving me encouragement, I started pushing just before 6pm.  Unlike before, I could feel what my body was doing each step of the way.  I was fully aware when my doctor - now Dr. S due to a shift change - came in and began suiting up.  I noticed when the other nurses entered.  I could listen and adapt as Dr. S told me to hold or push again.  And in a few slow motion moments I was able to witness as this tiny son of mine entered the world.  First his small, squished, perfect head, suctioned and crying, then his neck and shoulders, wrapped once by his umbilical cord, and finally the rest of his purple, wiggly, perfect body.

I was focused as they lay his precious body right on top of mine, and as my J-Man once again cut the cord.

I felt his tiny hands, his tiny feet, and thanked God that I was once again an agent in a miracle.

I don't think I've ever felt as empowered and meant to do something as I did during those 25 minutes of pushing.  Just the night before I had doubted my body.  But right then, as our Malcolm Davis came into the world, I couldn't have felt more proud of it.

Eventually they took him to the other side of the room to quickly measure and weigh him - 7lbs even 19inches - but quickly they returned him to my chest to nurse and snuggle with his mama.

Since then, MDG has proven to be very little like his big brother aside from looks.  He has us guessing every day, and night, but one thing is for sure: he is absolutely who is supposed to be in our family.  He belongs here. Right here. With his Mama G, his Papa G, and his big brother PDG.

We couldn't feel more complete.  I couldn't feel more in love.

Me and my three G boys.  Let the adventures as a family of four begin

So Long Pregnancy

Today was my last full day being pregnant.  Not just with MDG, but most likely ever.  And, now that we're at the end, I'm feeling all sorts of things.

First of all, lest I forget, I'm feeling utterly exhausted.  As though my body has been through some sort of long, drawn out war only to realize that it isn't over, and the worst is yet to come in a bloody battle of will and physics and nature (hopefully dulled some by the beauty of modern medicine, aka the epidural).  My hips ache with what I have self-diagnosed as SPD, but could just be normal wear and tear from the whole basketball sized person it's lugged around lately.  My nose feels huge, my immune system is shot, I waddle, and I frequently worry I might wet myself. Not such a cute sight.

But those are the physical things.  Truth is, if I felt inspired, I'd do it again.  If J-Man were on board.  And we could afford it.  And it felt right.  I just don't see now when that time would be.  And I'm ok with that.  With this being the end of that.

The other things I feel aren't as easy to explain.  Or admit.

I feel guilty.  Tonight, when reading PDG his bedtime story of Goodnight Moon, I wanted the book to last forever.  I wanted there to be more items in that great green room to name off so that I could hold him in my lap just another minute or ten or fifty while he's still my only one.  I kissed him and squeezed him and told him how mommy would always love him this much, no matter what happens tomorrow.  We said our goodnight prayers and I prayed he would know that.  Even in his immature but developing toddler brain.  That he'd still feel my love when I'm recovering and nursing and nowhere near the mama I like to think I've maintained being through most of these past twenty months.

I feel frustrated.  Frustrated that my body couldn't do this on its own.  Again.  As if the year plus of infertility before PDG didn't make me feel like I wasn't woman enough - or whatever it is that I felt month after month - I started to feel that way again.  I know, I know, a safe delivery and a healthy baby is all that matters.  Pitocin is fine.  A c-section would be acceptable.  Life goes on as long as he gets here.  But still, I'm human, I feel things, even if they're irrational, and I irrationally get annoyed with my body for not having figured out how to jumpstart labor on its own.

I feel nervous.  Not so much for the labor.  I think as long as I get some pain meds in a reasonable time frame, that should be manageable enough.  Uncomfortable and painful, sure, but manageable.  The pushing - eh.  If I got through 2.5 hours last time, I can do it again.  Right?  But the day after?  The nursing?  The fifteen steps to just peeing solo again?  The sleep deprivation and self-doubt?  The wondering if this awful part ever ends and then feeling bad for thinking that because 'this awful part' overlaps with those first days and weeks of wonderment staring at that tiny being you've created with the person you love more than anyone else on earth?  That whole phase I'm nervous for.

I hope he's healthy.  I hope I stay healthy.  I hope my precious PDG can adjust.  And my J-Man.  And me.  And when I get my wits about me post-delivery, I'll let you know how it's going.

After all, lots of people have second kids.  My brother even went on to have a 3rd and 4th.  My dad's mom went on to have a 5th and 6th.

It's just time for me to put my game face on, not dwell on crazy thoughts, and let life happen.  Tomorrow at this time, God-willing, I will have another son to love and spoil and fret over.  I'll have another birth story with at least one twist I couldn't have expected.  I'll be a little stronger, a little more vulnerable, and still very much the same overthinker I am tonight.

Time to be a G.

20 Months: Ending an Only Child Era

This week PDG turned 20 months.  This one is most exciting because, ever since I realized I was pregnant, I've been fairly certain that 20 months would be the age difference between big brother and little brother.  Which means, we are now in the month that MDG arrives!!!

So before all the focus switches over to little brother, let's enjoy a little more of this temporarily-only-child.

For example, he is trying so hard to be just like his da-da and ma-ma.  If we growl, he growls.  If we say "mmm-hmm" he says "mmm-hmm."  If we yawn, he opens his mouth wide to yawn.  If we close a drawer with our feet, he closes (or attempts to close) a drawer with his foot.

His language really is increasing exponentially.  He can say and point to eyes, ears, mouth, nose, teeth, feet, hands, and diaper.  He's tackled milk, 'nana, g'apes, apple, pump'in, doggy, cat, kak-kak (duck sounds), mess, poop poop (without context) and more I can't think of right now.

Speaking of poop poop, quick story.  The other night I had lots of back and side aches from good ol' braxton hicks that won't go away but won't start labor, so I decided to hop in PDG's bath.  We splashed and laughed and wiggled our toes.  Super cute right?  Then I called J-Man to help get him dry while I actually took a minute to wash for real.  J-Man picked him up and what did we see?!?!  That's right - poop poop.  Right there in the tub where he'd been sitting.  Grrr-osss!!!

Luckily, mamas have to have a sense of humor, and J-Man likes to "borrow" gloves from doctor offices, so we had the mental and physical needs to handle the situation.  Oh motherhood....

But back to PDG - he loved his halloween costume but was totally confused by the custom.  He tried to go inside every house we knocked on.  He became obsessed with the Halloween books Mama H brought him.  He discovered how great chocolate is.

Generally, he's given me all the reason in the world to smile.  And on days when it feels like this pregnancy is never-ending and I wonder why I put myself through this much discomfort, I look at him and remember why.  I hope I never forget the sound of his laughter, the look of delight on his face when he discovers something new, the way he whispers "hush" on the right pages of Goodnight Moon, and that goofy little dance of his.  No matter how many million times a day he says "mama no," he's a huge part of the reason I can say "yes" this mama is one happy mama indeed.

So now, MDG, if you wouldn't mind hurrying up, I'm ready to start writing about you too.

November Thanks but No Thanks

Oh friends, what a trying first week of November this has been.  Rather than lament what feels like one disaster after another, I'm going to try to channel some of that Facebook what-I'm-grateful-for November attitude and reframe it all.

So with that said I'm grateful that....

1) PDG's doctor's office is open late.  Much better than a $200 emergency room visit when his random 102.5 fever joined up with crazy huge welts all over his body.  fyi - hives.

2) amoxicillin tastes like bubble gum.  Makes 10 days of antibiotics for strep for a 19 month old actually possible to administer.  Benadryl - work on that, would you? (did you know strep can cause hives? weird)

3) PDG is old enough for, and loves going to, nursery at church.  I do feel guilty sometimes at wanting to spend any more time away from him than I already do, but since he turned 18 months and started getting to attend Nursery, I've gotten to feel like I'm getting more out of Sunday School and Relief Society again.  Plus, it's helped him learn to fold his arms to pray - super duper adorable.

4) My nesting carried over into having my 1st quarter grades entered well before the deadline on Tuesday.  Otherwise I would've joined the ranks of teachers flipping out that our electronic gradebook shut down the three school days before all grades/comments were due.  Instead I got to spend all day making copies of worksheets for the next six weeks and weekly outlines of lesson plans for whenever this baby MDG decides to show up.

5) NPR keeps me calm when a tractor trailer full of fuel crashes on I-95 south, shutting down the entire interstate, and turning my 30 minute commute into a 90 minute one.  No longer can I say I've never been late to work.

6) Mama H answers the phone as early as 5:30am.  (Sorry Mama H for all the calls this week!)

7) Papa H insists I keep AAA coverage.  When stranded on the side of the road with a dead car and a very active toddler, knowing help is on the way is one of few positive thoughts

8) My coworkers are as excited about this baby as I am.  So when I thought my water might have broken during 1st period (I'll end details there for TMI reasons) I had an army of women getting a sub to cover, walking me to the bathroom, and getting me a ride to L&D to get checked out.  Of course, as you probably guessed, it wasn't my water.  And not enough contractions to move things along.  But a good practice run I guess.

9) PDG can cheer up just about anyone.  After this long week, and particularly long day, I told PDG it was time to go "night night." Because he's a strange little boy who loves bedtime - don't hate me, ok? - he immediately put down his toy, started waving his arms to say bye, and then looked at J-Man.  He stopped, smiled, said "kiss" and then walked over and gave his daddy a kiss.  Then he began climbing the stairs waving at us both again and repeating "night night."  I don't think I could love that boy more.  And I don't think J-Man's smile could have been bigger.  What a perfect way to end a far from perfect week.

So, November, what are you gonna throw at us G's this week to keep us focused on gratitude?

Dear Third Trimester Insomnia

Dear Third Trimester Insomnia,

"How wonderful you are...."

Said no pregnant woman.  Ever.

I get it, I get it, you want to help me prepare for the midnight feedings and screaming fits coming next month.  You think I might've forgotten how to exist on two hour chunks of sleep with only incomplete REM cycles.  You think I've gotten too spoiled with just twice nightly pee breaks that I can block out almost like sleepwalking.

Well, you're wrong.

I do remember.  It hasn't been that long.

And sure, I'm spoiled that PDG was sleeping through the night somewhere around 7 months (I think?), but it's not like you can just forget those first months.  Not that fast.

So, if you and your buddy Late Night Leg Cramps would go hide in a corner somewhere, this increasingly exhausted mama would be elated. I need to save 3am Netflix-watching for maternity leave please.

Ok.

Thanks

Double Doctor Day

You know how I just looooove doctors right?

Ha!

Well last Friday was double trouble doctor day.  First - the easy one.  PDG had his 18 month check up.  Yes, 18 months.

WHERE DID TIME GO?

J-Man took the day off since he was already feeling a little under the weather and it made my life easier, so the boys had a Daddy/Son extravaganza.  If you know J-Man, the answer is yes, crablegs were involved.

So PDG weighs 28 pounds (90%) and stretches 33.5in (87%) with a 75% head.  My big boy with his big appetite just keeps growing.

He's got maybe 20-30 words these days.  I don't know - we don't keep a list.  But I do enjoy the randomness of them.  From "ouch" to "lights" to "trash" to "up" to that ever elusive "mama" that seems to only come out when he's hungry.... they're all pretty cute in my totally mom-biased opinion.

All four molars are in.  He can occasionally put two words together to say "lights on" or "lights off" and, years before I even considered how this works, he's fallen in love with the switch inside a fridge that triggers the inner light to come on when the door opens.

He's obsessed with our park by the new (fantastic) house we live in and gets a kick out of crunching leaves - fall already? - smushing acorns, and collecting mulch and sticks to give to anyone who'll take them.  

He's a charmer, that boy.  It's hard to imagine there's room to love any more G boys in my life, but I guess we'll make room in 9-10 more weeks.

Which reminds me.... so I also had a checkup last week.  I was 29.5 weeks and feeling great.  Yes, the leg cramps have come back.  And the heartburn.  And, ok, my back and hips seem to be realigning from time to time.  But honestly, no issues here.  I was ready for the usual five minute, pee in a cup, weigh in, blood pressure, heartbeat, and fundal measurement like usual.

All was great til the last one.  She measured.  Then measured again.  Then looked at me and asked "were you measuring small last time?"

Nope.

Leaking fluid?

Nope.

Feeling movements?

Tons.

Hmmm...

Ok, I hate when doctors get that worried look.  Like, you're supposed to keep the crazy hormonal lady calm.  That's your job.

Or, well, ok maybe your job is to keep me and MDG healthy.  So off to an impromptu sonogram we went.  Just to be sure.  I apparently hadn't grown the 3cm I should've since the last appointment, so we needed to take a peek.

MDG cooperated though, and twisted and turned so we could see his 100% healthy little body.  He's just decided to be a burrower like his big brother was.  Over ten weeks to go and he didn't realize he can be stretching.  Nah, he's tucked down super low, long with a skinny little abdomen, all pressed together with his foot in front of his face.

29.5 weeks

If I didn't know that PDG had done the same thing, I'd think this is a sign for an early arrival.  But I'm not going to get my hopes up.  I mean, I'm not ready now.  Heavens no.  But by 37wks I'll probably sing a different tune.

Until then, every time someone gawks at how "small" I am and asks if I'm sure about how far along I am (seriously, folks?), I can rest assured with this most recent sono that MDG and I are doing just fine thank you. 

MDG follow-up

That's totally me - writing all concerned about a doctor's appointment and then not following up to say how it went for weeks.

I hope you assumed no news was good news, because, thank heavens, it was.

And yes, these are random pictures of PDG with things on his head - just 'cause.

My family was pretty worried and after pretty much every Mormon family member said I should get a blessing, I went ahead and asked my dad and home teacher to do one.  I think that made J-Man more nervous, probably because I almost never ask for priesthood blessings, but I think it helped to calm my nerves and to remind me that even if something were to be "wrong" with MDG, we'd be ok.

The ultrasound was pretty interesting as the tech took time to examine every detail, finger by finger, bone by bone etc.  There were no other markers for Downs, and the spot on his heart, while still there, looked to be on the edge and quite possibly an unstretched ligament instead of a calcium deposit after all.

Not only that but the clot was gone and the placenta had already moved up.  Good news all around.  The doctor who came in to read us all the results said that this scare happens really often, but until more research is done, they have to alert families and suggest follow-up ultrasounds every time they see such a spot.  I guess it's one of the few down sides of such high tech ultrasound capabilities these days.

I know better than to think the next four months will go on with no more bumps or questions, but we're enjoying the ride of a healthy MDG who kicks like crazy, super low like his big brother did, and has finally made his mama hungry instead of sick.

June Catch-Up

Now that I got all the pregnancy fear thoughts off my chest, can we talk about June?  Because, really folks, it did happen.  And I have a few pictures  I have to force you to look at share with you so that one day I can still call this blog my virtual scrapbook and be able to acknowledge just how much PDG grew.

Especially his hair.  Thank heavens!

First off, he started walking.  It happened over the course of about three days that he went from slyly doing two steps here or there, to five in a row, to straight up saying "peace out, ma" and making so many of my photos now be of his backside as he darts away.

He discovered headphones.  Which, like any rectangular object he deems a 'phone,' do not have to make any noise for him to enjoy dancing to/babbling into. 

 He also has continued his streak of loving food (though veggies are slowly but surely losing their appeal...) Father's day was all about crab legs at Whitlows - my two boys, eating until their bellies popped.

 Speaking of two boys, we had a great trip to the 'burbs with our BFFs and what gets cuter than two toddlers sharing a radio flyer wagon stroll on a Sunday afternoon?  They got less scared and more into it once we got rolling.  Pun obviously intended.

 PDG finally stepped up and tried out the rocking chairs out at Mama and Papa H's house.  Which he loved.  Now he thinks any chair his size is a rocking chair, and he makes the movements regardless of the chair's ability to shake with him.

 

And if you're reading this, then you know Big Sis got married.  Everyone was happy to celebrate her and her own "J-Man." (we'll get him a nickname of his own soon) PDG got fully in on the action, running in nearly constant circles around and around the dance floor.  Crowded?  No big deal, he could weave.  Empty?  More room for his circles. It's perfectly appropriate this photo is fuzzy, that's how on the move this new walker/runner was.

 As for his pregnant and still quite sick (though trying to hold it together) mama?  Can you see the makeup?  This one day I had on more makeup than cumulative from the entire previous year.  They AIRBRUSHED me!!!  I was kinda hormonal about it, assuming it meant I must be so hideous they had to hide the real me under all that makeup, but looking back, it looked pretty so I guess it wasn't some sort of conspiracy.  Though, asking for just little blush and eyeshadow was clearly not a language the makeup technician understood!

 

It was so hot in "the rock" as Big Sis calls it, that we made our first trip to a splash park.  We actually hit up two in one day.  These were at the first, where PDG was genuinely terrified, and gradually warmed up to tolerant of the experience.  By the second one, there were smiles and laughter.  You know PDG, everything in his own time, after he's thought it through very carefully.

As for his 15 month check up - he weighed 25lb 12 oz (87%) and measured 32" (80%) so one solid little man.  And we've tried peanut butter now, so no food allergies on any fronts.  Unless it's to something funky we haven't given him because we G's don't eat it ourselves.

July 4th stories and photos to come.

Anatomy Scan - MDG

Hey.  So.  June happened....  yeah.  There was the end of the school year and exhausting morning sickness that markedly did NOT end with the new trimester.  There was a beautiful wedding and a trip to Little Rock.  There were big decisions in the Supreme Court and a nasty cold that hit me and PDG both.  Oh, and a 15 month doctor's appointment (because he's getting that old!).

I have pictures I could/should/will? post - assuming I don't go another month without writing.

But the biggest news all wraps up into today's pity party, which has then forced me to open up this little laptop and write out my complicated pregnant anxieties.

On June 26th J-Man and I went to our anatomy ultrasound.  PDG came along, and got confused as the lights went out.  Within seconds our little peanut had spread his legs and shown us we were getting another BOY!!!  

Now, if I'm being 100% honest - which is a big reason I blog to begin with - there was a tiny part of me that was like "oh.  okay.  I love boys.  But a girl would've been a fun change."  Not a big part of me, but a little bit.  Then there was the big part that thought "I know what to do with boys.  Yes!  And how adorable will these boys be, so close in age, running around and wrestling and nerding out together!?"  And of course, the biggest part which thought, "on with the scan - is he healthy??"

My office outsources its ultrasounds, so I had to rely on the ultrasound technician, who can't tell you but so much.  The measurements all seemed to look right on target (or slightly smaller, because remember I'm pretty sure they are almost a week early on my due date) and he cooperated with all the needed angles.

Then she said "I need to look more closely at your placenta."  Sexy, right?  Ha.

Turns out - and here's where you skip a few lines if you don't like uterine details - I have a low-lying placenta.  Supposedly this usually resolves itself by the third trimester.  The tech said she sees this often and the doc would tell me more.  Then she measured something else and asked me if I'd been bleeding.  I told her no, and she told me I might, because I have a clot.  Even sexier.  Again, this often resolves itself.  Or if it doesn't, I could bleed to death in a vaginal delivery.  Although, thanks to modern technology, I'd just have a c-section if it didn't get reabsorbed into the placenta.

It all seemed pretty no-big-deal.  Issues, but not scary ones.  So when I saw the doctor the next day, I was ready for a plan of action.  But, while I love my doctor's office, the ultrasound communication does leave something to be desired, so she hadn't actually seen the scan yet.  I could only tell her what the tech told me she'd seen.  To which the doctor gave a temporary plan of pelvic bedrest.

Now, about that "sexiness."  For anyone that doesn't know, pelvic bedrest is a cute pregnancy euphamism for sex moratorium.  At least until a follow-up in 4-6 weeks. So right as I'm finally feeling human/womanly and not just a vomiting host to a persistent uterus parisite (to be named Malcolm Davis), my doctor went and shut that whole area down.

So, why today's pity party then?

Well while out and about I missed a call from the triage nurse at the office.  I called her back but she was in with a patient so I had to wait 20 minutes.  Twenty long minutes, to find out what was up.  Anxiety meter went from 0-1000 just 'cause.

So when we talked, I scribbled down her notes from the doctor outlining that my baby MDG has an echogenic focus in his left ventricle and I would need a second ultrasound and they'd prefer me to do it at the perinatal center so that I can have immediate results rather than this weeklong waiting game.   Ugh.

Before you google it, the summary is, he's almost certainly just fine.  But if he isn't fine, it isn't a heart issue like it sounds.  Nope, it's chromosomal and a soft marker for downs or trisomy 21.

Obviously I will love this baby unconditionally, but that doesn't mean that this tiny seedling of fear hasn't full on nestled itself into my crazytown brain.

In the end, it'll work out.  Whatever that will mean. If I have learned anything since the day J-Man and I decided to start this baby-making journey in 2010 - you can't predict the process.  You just have to make the most of all the ups and downs.  

So maybe we got less than perfect scan results today.  We also got the first little kicks strong enough for J-Man to feel.  Maybe we can't have sexytime for another month.  At least I haven't puked for over a week now.  

Just gotta keep finding all the silver linings

Phew, I feel better already.  Thanks.

When one door opens...

It's the end of the school year and this lil mama is le tired.  Is that how you say it in French?  Or any language?

It's that point where there are certain student faces I not only want to not see for summer break, I don't want to see ever.  I almost gave a kid a zero on an assignment the other day pretty much for just being him (which these days means being a liar) but then my conscience caught up with me and I remembered that's not actually how grades work.  My September self had much more energy and patience.

I feel better hearing that other teachers are exhausted and falling asleep at ridiculously early times too.  Especially the ones not carrying a baby internally and/or externally everywhere until one of them decides to just walk more than five steps already! or gets itself born next fall.

It probably isn't helping either that PDG has learned a new trick.  I guess that's what you call it?  He has figured out doors.  First there was the shutting of them a month or two ago.  It's cute until he slams it in your face and you have to tell yourself to not take it personally - made easier when you hear him desperately trying to reopen it for you only seconds later.  Next came the tugging at the door handle to no avail.  That lasted a few weeks as he's worked on mastering tippy-toes and sprinting through this recent growth spurt.

So last week, when I heard a door open and shut while I thought he was safely playing in the hall for a minute, despite knowing I'd closed all the doors in the apartment, I realized we were in new territory.  No longer is the toilet off limits just because the door is closed.  Nor the dirty clothes in my bedroom.  Nor the beloved sock drawer in his.  Nor anything in the catch-all closet in the living room we're probably supposed to use for coats.  It's all fair game.

Next will be the scary day he figures out what keys are for.  Let's hope there's still lots of time before that!

1st Belly Photo

Last pregnancy I didn't take many belly pics.  I remember thinking I would remember what it felt like to be "huge" forever, so why document it.  I have a few that I look back and enjoy - mainly the Christmas card ones, and the delivery day one.

Anyway, maybe I'll do better about documenting it this time?  It very likely will be my last pregnancy.  (Some future version of myself may read this and laugh uncontrollably while surrounded by a whole litter of offspring - but we really are thinking two might be it.  At least, two in daycare at a time).

So this is me last Tuesday at 13 weeks exactly.  My pants buttons are starting to pop.  I broke out maternity jeans on Friday and while my belly is mostly in my head, the pants are exactly as amazingly comfortable as I remember.

Now the game is waiting for the students to awkwardly guess and ask me if I'm pregnant.  My money is on my 5th period - my least favorite class, because they are the most outspoken and rude already.  (Did I say that?)

I'm pretty sure my CSSJ kids would've guessed by now though.  They thought anyone who had too much to eat for lunch was pregnant.

So here we go.  Second trimester, bloated little belly, and 16 school days left til summer vacation!

Birthday Blossom Recap

Recently I experienced my first pregnant birthday.  (Ok, you caught me, it was like a month ago.  Cut a gal some slack).

I turned 29 for the first time, and plan to remain 29 indefinitely.

As you may imagine from my recent blogging absences, I didn't feel so hot.

One of my friends asked me recently how this pregnancy is different than the last.  I struggled to answer in any coherent sentences.  It's just.... hard?  Because I know what's coming?  Even though I know the first trimester does end. It ended this week I guess. But I'm teaching full time and chasing a nearly-toddling 1 year old and doubting myself and all sorts of emotionally upside down.  So I'm tired.  Which is normal.  Yet overwhelming.  And I throw up less but I cry more and I just but then somehow it could seems........

See, even there - incoherent.

At any rate, the nausea and exhaustion that is starting to subside now, was up and in full force back during Apple Blossom Birthday time.  That, and some serious sinus/headcold misery.  I was insistent that my hometown not find out I was pregnant just yet, so I strapped on my happy smile and made the most of it.

That picture was from the Fireman's Parade.  Isn't he darling?  I think so at least.  He hardly smiled, but I think that's mostly because he'd been in the car for two hours only to end up at an overstimulating parade without a normal dinner meal.

The next day we buddied up with M and her girlfriend N.  We spread our blankets in the former state senator's yard and we avoided everyone.  Sadly, I realized later that meant I had missed an opportunity to see someone I actually had really wanted to see.  On the up side, I missed all the fake hugs and how are you's that come with returning home on one of three yearly occasions that anyone goes back.  I'll see them at Thanksgiving.  Or I won't because I'll be in labor.  We'll see.

The highlight of the parade, aside from watching PDG clap, giggle, crawl, and cheer with us, was Papa H and Mama H riding in the Grand Feature itself.  As president of a local charitable organization, my dad got a convertible and a sign.  He says people shouted and yelled for him, screaming that the sign should've said "best math teacher ever" and other things to that effect.  I'll admit, it's pretty cool having parents who have taught half the town, and did a pretty superbly amazing job at that, such that they are practically celebrities.

By the time the parade ended we were all pretty pooped.  We packed up, drove home, threw up, and had some dinner.  Step number three was just me.  Everyone else managed to transition from the drive to dinner far more smoothly.

So the next morning, when Mama and Papa H offered to take PDG to church and let me and J-Man stay home and rest I said YES!  Best birthday present I could've asked for.  Me and my J-Man, cuddled on the couch, snotty and sick and getting older and proclaiming we will not have any more children and happily in love.

And here I am, writing about this all with a smile.  How does pregnancy make you so quickly nostalgic in such a happy way for days when you are in pain and/or miserable?

A mess

Ok, friends, I'm a mess.

I'll be the first to admit it.  I'm a tired, pregnant, hormonal, self-doubting mess.

If I remember correctly, these feelings start to settle in the second trimester.  At least, that's what I'm choosing to remember.  Just this week I fell asleep watching The Daily Show.  And no, I don't mean the new one that comes on at 11pm, I mean the night before's episode that comes on at 7:30pm that we often watch just after putting PDG to bed and finishing up a little dinner together. At some point J-Man convinced me to relocate from the couch to the bed, but otherwise I was out until 5am! Clearly I'm exhausted.

Plus, my ears have decided to do the thing where they don't pop again.  But rather than starting in the 3rd trimester, here I am, 9 weeks along, with 31 to go, and I have to tell my kiddos to speak up when they read their homework aloud because I feel half deaf.

AND, my adorable, sweet, PDG just won't walk.  Which makes me feel like the world's worst mama, even though I know he's still in the normal range and he stands by himself all the time and shows every competency of being able to.  But when other ladies at the park are like "oh he's 13 months?  and not walking? hmmm..." my usual confidence is shot by doubts of maternal capacity and oh-my-goodness-if-I'm-screwing-up-with-PDG-how-can-I-have-a-second????

A mess, right?

Here, right now, after having napped when he napped this morning, and having had a good long cry with J-Man this week, I feel good.  Together even.  I can type about this nutty catastrophe that is my inner monologue and know everything is gonna be just fine.

But goodness gracious, I can be one crazy and insecure mess after a half-deaf day with teenagers, not enough sleep, and too many googled non-verified medical facts in the back of my brain.

Here's hoping these next three weeks pass quickly and that 2nd trimester brings some assurance with it.

What I'll Do

I've been going back and forth about when/how I'll share my news when I get pregnant.  There are a few more readers of my blog now, so rather than just a couple of you girls I was already oversharing fertility issues with, there are quite a few of you who stop by now and again.  We might not even talk all that often.  Or, perhaps, you're a stranger on the internet.  That's unlikely, but totally cool.

So here's what I'm thinking.  I'll wait until the 6-week mark.  Or around then, since I think that's when they scheduled my first appointment last time.  I'll go in and make sure that the pee sticks (and yes, I'm certain it will be multiple) were right and the doctors agree there's a little person/zygote/blastocyst/bean hanging out in there.  I'll hopefully have a less traumatic experience than my last first ultrasound.  And then I'll come back and start to write about it.

I may or may not, at this point, have called everyone I'll want to have called.  And I'll hope to reach them before they just see it on here.  But I continue with my phone phobia, so if I fail there, I'll hope you'll forgive me.  Please?

I'll struggle to know what to say, and wonder if I should really announce it during the first trimester.  Then I'll probably just remind myself that, as an oversharer, I will probably want an overabundance of support if something goes wrong with the pregnancy.  I think?  Or maybe I won't.  But then I'll just write a short blog post that says please don't ask.  or... I don't know what I'll do.  Does anyone know how they'll mourn in advance?  Nothing would really make it hurt less.  So, I'll stop thinking about that what-if until/unless I absolutely have to.

Yeah.  That sounds like a plan so far.  I mean, it's gotta happen in 2013 right?  It can't take over a year again can it?  I mean, look here, PDG is already looking for his little sibling.

But then again. That's probably because he already knew then.  Like J-Man and I already knew then.  What made that west coast vacation even more special was waking up at 2:30 one San Francisco morning, like the addict I once again had become, and rubbing my eyes as I saw this.

Ok, mini-ME, it's on.  EDD  December 2nd

(and yes, Christmas card brainstorming has officially begun)

Beating the BBs

Ok, before you read this, please know - we didn't tell you because we didn't want you to avoid us like the plague.  And we've been free and clear for a year now.

So....... have you ever been nine months pregnant?  And have you ever had bed bugs?  And have you ever endured both at once?

Yeah?  Me too.

The story is pretty simple.  Last January J-Man and I noticed we kept seeming to get bitten by something.  Neither of us thought much of it.  I knew itchiness is sometimes a symptom, and by this point I was feeling every symptom in the book.  Doctors were telling me how low PDG was and how likely it was that he would come early.  I was physically ready and emotionally a wreck.  A few bites didn't really register.

Then J-Man got a weird bite on his face.  Someone at work wondered what was up.  Allergic reaction?  Spider?  Or... could it be?

We've lived in NYC.  We know a few people who've dealt with the pests.  We had an inkling.  But denial can be a strong, strong state of mind.

That is, until we saw one.  A nasty, yucky, evil little critter.  There could be no more denial. We had bed bugs. 

So after hours of freaking out and googling everything on the bugs (a slight change from googling "ways to induce childbirth" and "what do contractions feel like) we started the work.

Our pest control asked us to launder everything, and seal all other possessions in bags.  

Mama and Papa H stepped in, helping us pack up all our stuff (including the super cute new things from the baby shower.  I packed and lifted what I could, while frequently sitting to catch my breath (or cry, let's face it, I was pretty emotional).

Our valentine's day weekend was spent in a hotel, partially because it was a romantic time, and partially because sleeping in our own bed simply led to even more third trimester insomnia.

When the pest control folks said they do two treatments, I thought I was going to flip the #### out.  Sure, they could say the fumes are fine for a pregnant woman and unborn child, but I hadn't avoided philly rolls and turkey subs for nine months to screw up my kiddo with bed bug bombs.

Luckily, J-Man was being a bit of a champ at work, so we took another mini-vacation.  We told no one, and went and stayed in a nearby hotel for a week.  Who knows what the front desk clerks thought was happening.  I took their shuttle to the metro, went to work, and came 'home.'  There was a McDonald's by the hotel that I frequented, uh, very frequently, and we made it work.

By the time we felt safe coming home we were approaching the due date.  Mama and Papa H came again, and helped to set up the nursery.  Even now, a year later, there are a couple bags of who-knows-what that we haven't  gotten around to unpacking.  (Yeah, we should probably just take them to goodwill since we clearly haven't missed the contents).

The good news is, by the time we came home with our bundle of joy last March 12th, we were convincingly bug free.  We could sleep -- in two hour chunks -- without fear of any creepy crawlers getting to us or our little angel.  

But man, the month of February 2012 is one that only now can I start to discuss without getting an overwhelming sense of anger/disgust/exhaustion/confusion.  How happy we were to make it to March, for more reasons than words can express.

Welcome PDG

Ok, I know, this is late.  What's that saying - better late than never?

Let's rewind a few weeks to March 12, 2012.  The big day my life would change forever.  Despite being told at my 36 week appointment that I was already progressing (80%, 1, 0 station) and this baby was  "low, low, low," it had taken five more weeks to arrive at this day.  I should've known then that PDG would have quite the firecracker personality.

By this point I'd endured two false alarms, one requiring the ER and one demonstrating that I really didn't know what a contraction felt like... yet.  I had passed my due date, had a non stress test, been assured baby boy had plenty of fluid and a healthy food source and still might come before a medical intervention.

My parents and Big Sis were in town, the nursery was good to go, my nerves kept me from sleeping well on this last night for months that no child would depend on my being awake to be fed.  I woke up, put on perhaps the best maternity shirt ever, and headed to L&D.

I met my nurse, Hala, who was the most amazing person I'd meet until later that afternoon, and immediately I felt at ease.  She took care of everything.  She got me popsicles and juices.  She showed me exactly where my contractions were on the screen.  She told me I could have my epidural whenever since I'd come in already between 3-4cm.  (I didn't wait long to take her up on that).

My family was pretty amazing too.  Big Sis took pictures that I won't post of me looking exhausted already, Papa H came in and out of the room, while also making friends with the other families down the hall.  Mama H took a quick nap to reserve energy for later.  J-Man told jokes and saw to it that all needs were met.  I was in fantastic hands.

Around 6cm Dr. S broke my water (so they say - I felt nothing) and then things got really moving.  I'd been on the pitocin for four or five hours at that point, and my family left to get lunch.  By the time they were back I was at eight, and not long after I had the strangest feeling.  It was like I wanted to dance, or couldn't get comfortable, and I kept shifting around.

J-Man asked what was wrong, but I didn't have the right words. 

"Um, I might need to push?" I asked.  Or told.  It was 3pm and I got the feeling the little guy would be out soon.  Dr S confirmed I was "complete" and Hala had me do a practice push so that I'd know what I was doing.  Turns out you can push wrong.

That was the beginning.  I wasn't in pain, thank heavens, but I also didn't know I was in for the workout of my life!  For two and a half hours my life slipped into intervals of a minute off, then three consecutive counting-to-ten, all-energy-in, no-holds-barred pushing.  They had me on my side, then my other side, then on my stomach, then back on my back.  Anything to get PDG's head and body facing down, not sideways.  I was being commended for doing a great job and being "almost there" time and again, and with even more positivity while puking into some tiny blue bag.  It was intense.  Period.

I was going so long that Dr. S's shift ended and Dr. M came in for "the good stuff."  By the time she told me she'd need to use the vacuum suction I told her to do whatever it took to get him out.  I was pretty sure my body was going to give up on me soon, and I am not a quitter.

With the decision made, it was only a couple more contractions and there, lying on my deflated belly, they plopped my squishy, squealing, slimy PDG.  Instantly I was in love.

I could see only his toes as J-Man cut the cord before they whisked him away.  The room had become abuzz with nurses and family but I hadn't even noticed.  All I remember is watching my J-Man watch our PDG.  They were the only two people in my world right then.

Within an hour my whole family had held him, and he had attempted his first homemade meal, with success.  Everything felt so natural, so perfect.  I looked at my child and realized I had just been entrusted with a gift from God.

There were no other words.  There will never be words.

One day, this precious little being will walk, and talk, and make decisions.  One day he will create and lead.  One day he will provide.  For now, he is our responsibility, mine and J-Man's, and one we couldn't be happier to take on.

The nine weeks since then have been full of fantastic memories, siren-like cries, and a near doubling in his weight.  I wish I could promise to record them all here, but I'm resolved to record what I can, and spend the other moments getting to know this budding personality of his.  

It turns out, after all, dreams can come true

Eight Thankful Weeks

Every week I get more and more shocked by how soon this little guy will be here.  I mean, I can feel it's getting close.  The midnight leg cramps, the back discomfort, the hitting myself with the car door because I can't slide where I used to.  All that says "coming soon to an empty nursery near you."

exactly 32 weeks

Speaking of empty nurseries though, I am so amazed by the generosity of our friends and coworkers.  I shouldn't be, because J-Man and I like to think we surround ourselves with pretty fabulous people, but still.  I have bags and bags of hand-me-downs already.  I'm pretty sure this kid will be better dressed and with more options than I have and we haven't even had the shower yet.

And speaking of the shower - super psyched to get to see some of my favorite people tomorrow.  I even had a dream about it two nights ago and woke up as disappointed as a 5th grader who erroneously dreamt of a snow day in May.

Every time I look at the pile of baby gear in the nursery, only one tiny item of which has been purchased by us, I get all teary.  Then I start going through all these blankies and onesies and I ooh and ahh and imagine.  I try not to look at the rest of the emptiness of the room, but soon enough there will be furniture and shelves and places for a baby to exist.  At least, I think that'll happen...  Otherwise PDG will grow up to be more like his parents than expected, with lots of piles that make sense to pile people.  Fingers crossed for a more organized future. Come on nesting, work your magic on this third trimester, insomniac, mama-to-be.

Christmas Card 2011

Ok, friends, I disappeared for the holidays because they are crazy.  Suffice it to say that the next week or two will be a good bit of backtracking to share snip-its of Christmas trees, nephews, fancIphones and candy cane umbilical cords.

Thanks to M and her lovely lady friend for making J-Man's and my belly art dreams a reality

The Blueprints

A work in progress

Everybody gets a belly

Finished product!

The innie and the outtie

Yeah, we're doing this

and we're still tough

Love

What have I done?!?!

Are you seeing this?!?!

Yeah, I did that.

We do still wear real clothes

Lots of belated holiday love from the G's. 

And yes, plans are already in the works for next year's card, featuring PDG.  Let the yearlong suspense begin