Pregnancy Update

TMI pregnancy confession:

I thought I had gotten all good news from the OB today: no new things to worry about.  The last 18 weeks have been crazy.  Every time I came by to get a check up or progress report I learned new words.

Subchorionic hemorrhage
Choroid plexus cyst
Trisomy 18
Placental lake

To put it simply, all of these words suck. 

A subchorionic hemorrhage is a kind of like a blood clot between the placenta and uterus which can be reabsorbed without any complications to the pregnancy.  Sometimes you don't even see any symptoms of it except in an ultrasound.  Of course, that wasn't my story.  I got to have the gory, bloody hemorrhage.  It looked like a murder scene: Mrs Peacock in the bathroom with the lead pipe.  This happened at week 8.  The hemorrhage is finally gone.  All of it.  FINALLY!

Around week 18 we discovered a choroid plexus cyst in baby's brain.  Basically, a little extra cerebrospinal fluid built up in his brain.  It happens in about 1 in 100 babies and goes away on its own.  It's nothing to worry about when there are no other developmental problems.  Luckily, our baby has no other symptoms and so we can consider this a normal abnormality.  Normal abnormality.  I'm sure my former English professor would consider that a "wonderful paradox."

Trisomy 18 is a chromosomal defect that can sometimes be identified when a choroid plexus cyst is present.  It's scary.  And fatal.  It is one of the somethings to worry about when other developmental problems are discovered.  Our baby boy shows no markers of this defect.  We got this relieving news two days before Christmas. 

A placental lake is a blood pool found in the placenta.  I guess it's not as serious as it sounds.  But, seriously, how are you not supposed to worry when you find out there's a "lake" in your placenta? 

Except for the trisomy/cyst connection, none of these things have anything to do with each other.  Except that I've had all of them in this one pregnancy.

So when the provider at my appointment today told me that my hemorrhage was gone, the cyst had resolved itself, the echocardiogram we had (just in case) came back completely normal, and my placental lake was less than half its original size, I was relieved. 

Then she shocked me again.

Even my weight gain is on track.  She said I can gain ten more pounds and still be within a healthy gain.  I thought this was wonderful news.  And then I thought about it.

Crap.

This baby still has six or seven more pounds to gain. 

I know, plenty of people have babies that are six or seven pounds after cooking for nine months.  I don't.  My last two babies have been over nine pounds each. 

This means that I'm not on track to stay within a healthy weight gain.  I'm on track to have a healthy, chubby baby and several weeks of "talks" from my provider over my strategies of controlling my weight gain.

"Choose healthier options."  I do.  I have plenty of dark chocolate instead of milk chocolate.  Do you know why?  Because of antioxidants.  And because no one else in the house will eat it.

"Try to go walking more."  Because this is possible to do.  I'm carrying around a million more pounds than usual so my feet, knees and hips never hurt and make it hard to want to do anything but sit still. 

"Drink more water."  Mmm, water.  My favorite thing about ingesting food or beverage is the taste.  If only water had some.  (Not counting unfiltered Arizona water that tastes like barf.)

And so my optimism has taken a hit.  All good news about the baby.  And only a month or so left before the lectures begin.  I'll just nod and smile.  And I'll do my best to have a little more salad, a little more walking, and a little less chocolate.  Even if it is dark chocolate.

Top Ten Answers

We are expecting a new little bundle of joy sometime around the end of October.  We are so excited and happy to welcome this baby.   We've made it through the harrowing first trimester and even had a blood clot issue that scared us.  But all is well and we're looking forward to adding Baby 6 to the mix.

But I have to be honest.  I was nervous announcing this pregnancy.  Not because I didn't want or expect this baby (because I did want and hoped for him/her) but because I got so many comments when I was pregnant with Sarah.  Strangers saw me in Home Depot and offered their opinions of my sanity.  Friends or family made comments meant to be teasing, but after a while it kind of got under my skin.

In an effort to preemptively answer the questions I expect to receive over the next five or six months I figured I'd post on the blog.

SO... here we go. 

Top Ten Answers to Questions I Expect to Hear During This Pregnancy

 

10. Yes, we planned to have another baby.

 

9.  Yes, we outgrew our minivan.

 

8.  No, we didn't outgrow our house.

 

7.  Nope, there's just one baby in there.

 

6.  Yep, all these kids are mine.

 

5.  No, I didn't have all these kids so I could be on TV.

 

4.  Yes, I agree that people should be responsible and have the ability to financially care for their children.

 

3.  Nope, I don't know if we're done.

 

2.  Yes, I know how this happened.

 

And Number 1:

Well, yes, most days I am crazy but I don't think that has anything to do with this.

Birth Day and Personalities

It's very late at night, but sometimes the call to write won't wait.

As of this moment, the countdown to Baby is at 10 days.  A week and a half and our Sweet Sarah will make her way into the world.

Of course, she's laying sideways, it's fricken hot outside causing me to sweat profusely, I can't wear shoes because my feet are too swollen, and my temper-fuse has been shortened by another six inches.

But other than that, I'm so excited to see this baby.  I can't help but think of Emma, Abby, Matthew, and Millie as they all came into the world.  I've decided that the day the child is born indicates what the child is going to be like.

Let me give you a few (four) examples....

Emma

Emma was born six days late.  I was anxious for her to come, but a little relieved she didn't show up in the middle of the blizzard that hit us four days after her due date.  I was so worried about the road conditions, so I begged Josh to stay home with me the day after the blizzard.  We lived in the mountains, around 9000 feet in elevation on back roads behind Pikes Peak, so you can understand why I was a bit paranoid about the whole road-conditions-thing.  However, April 12th came and we lazily laid in bed talking about our OB appointment scheduled for that afternoon.  We were going to need to decide what day we wanted to schedule an induction since I was so late.  We both fell back asleep... until my water broke.  Josh and I went outside to get in the car when we realized that it was still buried from the blizzard two days ago.  I laughed as I held my knees together, trying to keep my broken water from making a huge mess so I could help dig the car out of the snow.  Luckily, a neighbor heard of our plight, took pity, and plowed the driveway for us.  Nine hours later, Emma graced us with her presence.

Emma and me

How does this equate to Emma today?  The girl has no problem being late.  To anything.  The day we left for Vegas to see Phantom of the Opera, she slept until it was nearly time for us to be out the door.  She loves the snow and the mountains.  It seems to take her forever to get things done, but she does them and she does them well.

Abby, however, was a different story.

Abby

On her due date (at 3am) my water broke.  Josh was at work so I called him to come home and take me to the hospital.  We lived in the same mountainous area, but a little further from the hospital.  I was a little worried when Josh came home and took a shower before driving me down the mountain.  We got to the Springs and I was already dilated to a 5.  Things progressed fairly quickly over the next few hours until 10am when they just stopped.  My OB was called to assist in a c-section and since I wasn't going anywhere he went to help.  Suddenly, Abby was coming.  She was coming and there was no stopping her.  We called for the nurse who called for the doc, but he was still in the OR.  Instead, she grabbed some kid from the hallway and put gloves on him.  I swear he looked like a kid, maybe he was an intern.  Or maybe a kid.  I don't know.  He didn't even get a chance to put his fingers in the glove properly before he began trying to keep Abby from falling out and onto the floor.  Everyone kept yelling for me to not push.  Hello?  Have you ever had a baby insist on being born before?  There was no stopping her!  Their pleas of, "Don't push, don't push!" were answered with my response of, "I can't help it, I can't help it!"  Luckily, my doctor did make it just in time to catch her.

Abby and me

And that was Abby.

And it still is Abby.  She's up on time every morning.  I don't think she knows how to sleep in.  She can be ready for anything on a moment's notice.  But more apparent and obvious is Abby's, how should I say it?, insistence on doing things the way she believes they should be done.  Obstinate, some might say.  Not me, of course, but other people might.

Matt was yet again a different story.

Matt

I was induced a week earlier to ensure he'd be born in Denver where his cardiologist could have immediate access to him after birth.  But the cord was wrapped around his body and every contraction strangled him.  I was rushed into an emergency c-section.  Unfortunately, the cord was so tight the doctor couldn't cut it, so he stuffed Matt back inside, turned him around to loosen the cord, and pulled him out a second time.  Matt was flat-lined and the OB handed him off to the NICU team saying, "Jump start this baby."  It took a while but Matt recovered and went on to spend 16 days in the NICU, undergoing two heart procedures to begin addressing his heart problems.

Matt and me (this was the closest I could be to him the first time I really got to see him)

Today, Matt has undergone more stress and fearful conditions than anyone else in our family, but he takes them in stride.  He hangs in there.  He does what needs to be done, but happily accepts the help of others around him.  He's sweet and laid back, regardless of the conditions around him which has its good and bad points.

Millie

Millie was a planned c-section.  I waddled down the hallway and hopped up on the bed in the OR.  Within a few minutes of medications all in place and Josh entering the OR, Millie was born and all was well.  No drama.  No blizzards, no boy-doctors from the hallway, no blood transfusions for me (Matt's birth was harrowing for him AND me).  Just a baby being born three days before Christmas on a day in Montana where the high temperature for the day was -5*.

Millie and me

Like her brother, Millie's a bit laid back.  She has no real concerns, even though she is only 3.  She will happily sit still and snuggle with me, dance around and sing, or color and draw pictures for hours.  Singing calms the soul, and Millie loves to sing.

This all makes me wonder: how will Birth Day go for Sarah?  Will we be able to gauge this little girl's personality on the hour(s) involved in her birth?  Hmm... I guess we'll see in ten days.

It's a Funny Thing...

I have to admit that talking about my apprehensions about this pregnancy has really helped me begin to ready myself for the reality of our Little Miss Sarah.  This is a good thing.  The diapers are stocking up.  The baby clothes have been gathered (they still need washing and folding, but they exist in our home).  And Sarah is being referred to by name.

Sarah's last ultrasound, three weeks ago. 

Of course, there are some other factors that have helped bring this reality into play.  One was a trip to Babies R Us.  It's been a while since we've leisurely strolled through that store, looking at all the cute little baby stuff.  And there are so many cute things to wish for.  We did find a way cute bumper and crib sheet set that I'm excited to put into place.  And it was on clearance.... bonus!

These are the wall decals we got to match our cute little bumper.

Another smack-you-in-the-face-obvious factor is the hormone level coupled with my Swiss cheese pregnancy brain.  Matt says my temper tantrums are funny. I asked him why.  He said, "Because when you get mad you say, 'Go to your room and go... do... get ready for bed!'"

I kind of liked Matt's perspective of all of this chaos in our lives right now.  There are some funny and ridiculous things happening around us.  Or in my case, to us.

I was at the self-checkout line at the grocery store the other day.  I pulled up to the scanner and scanned my customer card.  The automated checker graciously greeted me and then told me to remove my items from the scanner.  I was confused because all my items were still in my cart.  It was at that moment that I realized, it wasn't my groceries on the scanner, it was my ever-expanding baby belly!

I know I look very large.  Probably because I am very large.  Easter Sunday I sang with the ward choir.  I walked up behind Bishopric but knew I had no chance of fitting in the seats behind the piano and organ.  So I got the space at the end of the line of altos.  I felt very exposed.  And to make it worse, I had to stand sort of sideways to see the director so my girth's profile was evident to the entire ward.  I know I looked ridiculously pregnant.  How do I know?  Because I was showered with a combination of sympathetic looks and questions of, "You're sure it's not twins?"

29 days.....

Post-Miscarriage Pregnancy Baggage

It has been brought to my attention that there are 55 days until Baby Day.  This was thanks to the huge bulge causing me to not fit my clothes.  And the heartburn that's piercing my chest.  Oh, and those pesky appointments the OB doctor continues to insist that I attend.

But I really am having a hard time grasping the reality of the situation.  I blame the miscarriages.

There's still a stigma of believing this baby is coming.  It's like a mental block.  Can I really let myself believe that I'll get to hold a little beautiful baby in just 55 days?  A part of me says, "Yes!"  But there's still a part of me that is afraid the answer might be No.

That's the part that has been sneaking into my brain a bit too much.  Things are obviously different this time.

Usually by this point in the pregnancy I...

• have a large stock of diapers 
• have my to-do list of cleaning nearly finished
• have baby clothes washed and put away, ready for baby
• prepare for whatever holidays will be happening directly after the baby is born
• call the baby by the name we plan to give him/her

I'm trying.  I'm really trying to have the faith that this is happening.  My small stockpile of 4 bags of diapers is slowly growing.  My cleaning to-do list is still just mentally composed, but I hope it will be on paper soon and then actually carried out.  I received a couple boxes of climate-appropriate clothing from one of Josh's coworkers and this has saved me.  I totally forgot that the few little baby clothes I have in boxes in the garage were for a baby born in Montana in December and not a baby born in Arizona in May.  I know I need to have Abby's birthday and even Matt's birthday and baptism somewhat prepared for since they will be happening pretty quickly after the baby comes.

Which brings me to my last point of hesitation.  The baby's name.  We've told the kids what we plan to name our baby.  They all refer to her by the name.  In fact, Millie not only calls the baby by her name but readily identifies things for the baby and makes the connection between the two.  So taking a cue from my 3-year-old, I have made more of an effort to call our baby by the name we plan to give her, Sarah.  Sarah Rebekah Louise.

I've learned that I'm not the only post-miscarriage pregnant woman who has been slow to accept reality.  This makes me feel better.  Maybe I'm not losing faith.  Maybe I'm just normal.  In the meantime I plan to remind myself to do the things I know I'll want done.  And it may not be until I hold that precious baby girl (Sarah) in my arms that this all finally hits me.  

55 days.

A Bit of Absurdity

We recently purchased my dad's pickup truck and camper from him.  The license plate cover on the camper reads,

American by birth 

Southern by the Grace of God

I love my Southern roots.  I have some wonderful memories of visiting our relatives in Mississippi when I was younger.  There were warm nights of sitting on the porch and eating watermelons directly out of the garden.  I drove a tractor (nearly killed me and my great-uncle, but I drove it).  My great-aunt gave me a coffee tin of flower seeds from her enormous wild flower garden.  I even got to see the small little shack my grandfather and his six siblings were all born and raised in before it was torn down a few years later.  

The other day I found the show BBQ Pitmasters on Netflix.  The Southern food, Southern accents, and Southern eccentricities has reminded me of my roots.  In fact, it's really hard not to listen to the accents and not let it slip into my own speech.  (The same thing happens when I watch movies with Southern characters.  Country Strong about did me in.)

So it may not be a surprise when today my mind wandered where it did.  It's laundry day.  You know what that means, clothes that rarely make a public appearance suddenly emerge into view.  

Today's embarrassing moment:

Let's all remember that I have two months left.

It was as I was wearing this shirt that I couldn't help but think of my redneck roots and combine that with my affinity for SNL.

Pardon the quality of this video.  Somehow, it's the only clip of this skit online, which is a real shame because it is pretty dang funny.  

And there you have it.  The absurdity of my day.

Top Ten List

If I were creative, I would make a parody of the song, Things That Make You Go Hmmm.  (Yes, I'm over 30 and I still love C+C Music Factory.)

My version would eliminate the beautiful skinny woman and replace her with a haggard, pregnant woman in pajamas.  It would be lovingly called, Things That Make You Go Ugh.


And here's why:

Top Ten Things That Make Pregnant Women in Their Third Trimester Go Ugh

10.  Heartburn

9.  Lower back pain

8.  Bathroom trips in the middle of the night

7.  Getting out of bed

6.  Getting off the couch

5.  Dropping things on the ground

4.  Outgrowing maternity clothes

3.  Braxton Hicks

2.  20 degree body heat difference

And the number 1 thing that makes pregnant women in their third trimester to go Ugh...

1.  The scale in the OB's office

Really, I've been trying not to complain.  After all, it took us over a year to conceive this baby.  But crossing into the third trimester is like a toddler on her second birthday.  One day everything is fine and the next day the Terrible Twos come out in full force.

Only 59 days till C-day.

Pregnantly Stupid

I don't know that I've ever gone so long without blogging.  Not since I started this thing up which was about three and a half years ago.  It almost feels like it's been that long since I last updated.

But there have been some reasons for my lack of updates.

I'm pregnantly stupid.

There are several different brands of pregnant stupidity.  I can list three that I have personally been experiencing.

(Oh, in case you didn't know, I'm 22 or 23 weeks pregnant.)

CASE 1: One Track Mind Stupid

When you're prego it's hard to imagine having a conversation with another person over something other than the fact that you are pregnant.  It's way easy to forget that there are other events happening in life when there's a human life budding within you.  Especially when you just want to barf and sleep all day long... not necessarily in that order.

This time around it's been different than before.  We are having our fifth child.  However, this is my eighth pregnancy.  I got to go on a bunch of hormones for the first trimester which absolutely heightened all the negative aspects of pregnancy.  It's hard to focus on anything else when you're lucky to get out of bed at all.

And so I've been focused on one thing.  Me.  And all of that self-focus has made me stupid.  Pregnantly stupid.

CASE 2: Borrowed Brain Cells Stupid

Josh has told me more than once that when I'm pregnant my blonde roots become extremely apparent.  It seems that the little person growing in my womb gets a little help in shaping his/her intelligence by borrowing my brain cells.

This makes having any sort of an intellectual conversation nearly impossible.  And forget about having anything of interest to write about on a blog.  I have had very little desire to display my lack of mental capabilities.

And it's the reason I'm "22 or 23" weeks pregnant.  I have no idea which it is.  That would require remembering something.

But it's January.  Time to hit the Redo Button (like the Staples Easy Button, but for resolutions).  Time to get my blog writing and family updating back on track.  Plus, I'm in my second trimester now and it's time for me to unleash the tirades of hormonal imbalance.

CASE 3: Unnecessary Paranoia Stupid

It's no secret.  We've been dealing with the heartbreak of two miscarriages over the last 15 months.  Getting past the first 6 weeks of this pregnancy was a good sign.  And should have bolstered my confidence in keeping this baby.

But I've been paranoid.

Even hitting the 20 week mark didn't aspire much more confidence.

We usually begin stocking up on diapers by this point in the pregnancy.  I haven't bought any yet.  Why?  Because I'm afraid to count my chicken.  The reality of this baby still hits me between the eyes, startling me to acknowledge that I'm not just fat.  There's a baby in there.  And then I realize that I'm being kind of stupid by not completely accepting that this baby is coming to our family.  It's time to get beyond my own insecurities and embrace this new miracle.

Baby Girl Number 4.  We are getting really excited for May 9th, 7:30 am to come around.  There are definitely some advantages to having a planned c-section.

And so, I hope to come back to the blogging world.  Despite being pregnantly stupid.

The Theory of "Mom Years"

I'm pregnant.

I know, shocker.

I was thinking about it this morning, though.  This weekend I was blessed with  more energy than I've had in weeks.  Yesterday morning I did more housework in four hours than I was able to do in the last four weeks.  What's the difference this pregnancy compared to my first?

10 years.

I'm 33.  That's not old.  I swear.  I have lots of life left in me, but this pregnancy has knocked me on my butt.  It was WAY easier when I was 23.  I was working a full time job where I was on and off my feet 8 hours a day.  I had a thirty minute commute to work, which really wasn't too bad.  I still did all the shopping and cooking and most of the cleaning.  And I did swell up to the size of the Goodyear blimp.  But until I was morbidly pregnant (like morbidly obese, just with an 8 lb baby inside me) I was functioning just fine.

I have a few more/different activities in my life now.  I still do all the shopping, cooking, and most of the cleaning.  I'm not working at the bank for 8 hours a day, but I am taking care of a 22-month-old 24/7.  I help 3 kids do their homework.  I do laundry twice a week to keep up with everyone.  I do all the little mundane "Mom" things each and every day (this week is focusing on making Halloween costumes).  And I spend about ten to twenty minutes each evening reading to each child individually so we have that bonding time together.  So I'm not at a paid job 40 hours a week, but I consistently work everyday.

Here's my theory.  Kind of how they say there are 7 dog years for each human year, so it is with typical calendar years and Mom Years.  With the birth of every child, a mother's body ages.  Not the way she looks, necessarily, although that may be true for some.  It's just the way she feels.  It all catches up with her quicker and quicker after each child: the fatigue, the sore back, the lack of motivation and energy, take your pick.

I think, for the sake of easy math, a woman's body ages, oh let's say, five years per kid.  So I was 23 when Emma was born.  That means that even though I was technically 24 when Abby was born, my body was 29.  Two years later Matt was born and in Mom Years I advanced to 36 -- in calendar years I was 26, but I'd already had two other kids (5 + 5 = 10 + 26 = 36).  When Millie was born, the calendar said I was 31 but in Mom years I was 46.  Now, in Mom Years, I am 53 and pregnant. 

Dang!  No wonder I'm so stinking tired!!

No, I'm Not Complaining

I've had a request.

My husband would like me to write something on here.  He misses my writing.  I think it gives him a nice break to just sit and read some of the nonsense that goes through my head.  And since he hasn't mastered the art of reading my mind (imagine that), I'll oblige him.

I haven't written a new post for a while because the only thing truly on my mind is this:

Ah, crap, pregnancy is killing me!

And I have several more months to endure and complain.  If I start complaining too much now, will anyone (including Josh) even read anything I write anymore?

Well, I haven't done a Top Ten List for a while.  So here we go:

Top Ten Things I'm Trying to Avoid Complaining About:

10.  I've finished my Couch to 5k program but have no 5k to participate in.  What the heck, man?  I'm not allowed to do my half-marathon.  So now what?  Just run for my health???  Seriously???

9.  My house is so dirty.  I truly have to wonder: Am I experiencing Nesting or is my house really just trashed?  I'm so afraid to know the answer.

8.  I am tired.  All. The. Time. 

7.  If I thought I was weepy before, then I better buy stock in Kleenex now.  I was watching Extreme Makeover: Home Edition.  I know that show can pull at the heart strings, but I started crying when the team did a Flash Mob to notify the family they were chosen for the makeover.  What's a flash mob, you ask?  A sad and/or sentimental thing?  No.  It's when dancers are planted in a crowd and start dancing to amplified music.  That's not sad!  It was clever!  And I was crying!!  Give me a break.

6.  I got the worst advice ever from my doctor: Only eat what sounds good.  Great.  You know what sounds good?  Carmel rolls.  Ice cream.  Carmel popcorn.  Chocolate.  Chocolate covered peanuts.  Ice cream with chocolate, carmel, and peanuts.  Mmmmm......

5.  My boobs hurt.  Just putting that one out there.

4.  Millie is getting too smart.  She knows when she's made a bodily noise.  It's too hard to blame her for mine because she'll rat me out.  And we have no dog.  Life isn't fair.

3.  Did I mention I'm tired a lot?  I basically have one good effort of energy a day -- and usually that's used to roll out of bed.  Any activity requiring more energy than that doesn't stand much of a chance.  Oh, you're hungry?  There's the peanut butter and jelly.  Have fun.

2.  I told my friend Cindy that I feel like I have the flu.  Minus every single symptom but fatigue and nausea.  Although, I think I can add body aches back in there.  I'm pretty sure I could get a note from my doctor to excuse me from strenuous activity if need be.

And Number 1:

If you missed my post on Facebook, here it is again: "Pregnancy mood swings are like a pendulum. A pendulum that's just been round-house kicked by Chuck Norris after he was yelled at by his pregnant wife and he's still clueless as to what he did wrong. ~Shelly"  Oh my goodness, my mood swings are just beginning, but they keep popping up.  "Oh, I love my children.... HOLY HECK, WHO LEFT THEIR BOWL ON THE TABLE?..... I have the best life in the world..... EVERYBODY ZIP IT AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!  Yep, I'm a stereotype.

And those are the things I've been avoiding complaining about on my blog.

Sick and Tired

The word is out.

I'm sick and tired.

But in a good way.

Sometime around the end of May, this blog will be retitled.  But for now we'll just call it the J.S.E.A.M.M.?. Project.  That's right, Baby 5 is on his/her way. 

So far this baby has caught me by major surprise. 

1.  The pregnancy test I took at the ER almost 3 weeks ago was negative.  Therefore I had a bunch of x-rays done to find out why my breathing problems were happening.  First time I've had a negative that should've been a positive.  I thought it was a little early to test, but not much.  If Clear Blue Easy can detect pregnancy up to five days early, a hospital-grade test should be able to as well, right? Riiiight.

2.  In trying to prepare to run a 1/2 marathon, I learned that I really only had a 20% chance of getting pregnant.  I figured it would take a while to get pregnant.  We knew we wanted another baby, but I really thought it would take a while.  Like it did with the other kids.  It took over 2 years to get pregnant with Millie and a year to get pregnant with Matt and about 8 months to get pregnant with Emma after our miscarriage in 1999 (Abby was the exception, remember she and Emma are 13 months a part). 

3.  TMI Alert.  So, I've been so tired and my stomach has been upset and I was late, so I asked Josh to bring me another pregnancy test so we could just check it to make sure.  It was Saturday morning and I knew Josh was on his way home, but I really had to pee.  I grabbed a plastic cup.  TMI, remember.  I left it up in the bathroom and went downstairs to take care of the other kids.  Josh got home and went upstairs while I was still getting kids settled down.  I finally got to go upstairs and I popped my head into the room.  I asked him if he started the test and HE told ME that I was pregnant.  How often does that happen?  Well, I guess 1 out of 6 times?

Josh and I are very happy.  Our parents are happy.  Our siblings are happy.  Most of our kids are happy.  Emma's having some difficulty.  But I remember feeling that way when I was 9 and my mom was having a baby.  She goes back and forth.  She gets upset about the baby, but then tells everyone she sees about him/her.  We're definitely trying to make sure all the kids know how much we love them individually and want them to be happy.

And that's all why I'm sick and tired.

Opening Night Jitters

There are some similarities between preparing for delivering a baby and the opening night of a play.

The air is filled with anticipation. It's mostly a positive energy that fills the home/theatre. Everyone feels the excitement and there's an overload of energy at times. The first play I was ever in I cleaned the whole house the day of opening night because I had too much energy and no other way to expend it. Now, I have a lot of energy, but it's only from my arms up. My belly to my toes are in no condition to be able to expend extra energy. My brain, however, is on overload.

All the prep in the world isn't enough. It doesn't seem to matter how much you prep beforehand, how many dress and/or tech rehearsals you have, things never feel ready by opening night. Same with delivery. We've been preparing for nine months, but I do not feel even close to being ready. However, the show must go on and everything always seems to work out, even when you wish you could just cancel the whole thing.

Sometimes you have to either throw up or pray. Sister Helen Prejean sat in seat E5 on opening night of Dead Man Walking. The real lady. The one I was supposed to be acting like. Over 25 bookclubs had read the book, thinking they knew her and expecting to see her portrayed a certain way. Talk about nerves. Every night I sat outside the back stagedoor and prayed. I prayed a lot. I'm doing the same thing now. Every night I kneel down by my bed and pray. I'm a bit scared about this whole get-a-big-needle-in-your-back-so-you-can-have-the-doctor-cut-you-open-to-pull-a-baby-out thing. As I've said, I hate needles and think they should all die. But that's nothing compared to dwelling on the thought of a scalpel cutting me open. I think I'm having a hard time with this because I've had a chance to think about it. With Matt the decision was made and within what seemed to be a few minutes we were in the OR and he was being born. But whether we're talking about stage or hospital, both have had the effect of making my nerves roll. And I sweat a bit. And I text Josh my worries at 1am.

Looking forward to the cast party. Admittedly, I've only attended a few cast parties. I have always been invited, but the atmosphere was sometimes a bit uncomfortable for married Mormons. Anyway, the ones we attended were generally fun and the best part was that they happened at the end of the run. The work was over and it was now time to relax. With this delivery, our cast party will be coupled with Christmas Eve and Christmas. Not all of the players will be there--we'll be missing all of you aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. But our children will all be able to play and relax together and Josh and I will have some time to watch it all happen.

Pregnancy Update

I had a doctor's appointment this afternoon. It was pushed back from 4 to 4:30, so we dropped Josh off at home so he could get ready for work and we went straight to our baby shower. Of course I forgot my camera. When will I remember that thing?

The doctor checked me and I'm only about 1 to 2 cm, but I'm about 75% effaced. Did I spell that right? Anyway, when we reminded the doc of the c-section date, he told me, "You may or may not make it that long" and we went into a dialogue of what to do if I go into labor before Dec 22. A cold front is coming in and his nurse swore that many women's waters break during a cold front. Also, it's a full moon. So, if old wives' tales have any merit, we may have a baby before too long.

My shower was very nice and not only were my friends from church there, but also my mom, my aunt, and my gramma. It was so very nice. We now have a carseat, so Millie can actually come home with us. That's a relief!

There's Nothing Like It!

There's nothing like...

There's nothing like being so big and pregnant that you're forced to use the handicap bathroom/temple dressing room stalls.

There's nothing like avoiding the little boy in Emma's class because everyday he asks if she can call him later. Remember in A Christmas Story (I know you've already seen it once so far this year!) when Ralphie helps his dad change the tire and he says "The Mother Curse Word" and his mother asks where he heard it and he names his friend Schwartz and then his mom calls Schwartz's mom and from over the phone you hear the mom yelling and screaming some high-pitched "What? What?" This is how I want to react to this boy every time he asks me if Emma can call him.

There's nothing like running out of gas 25 miles from home at the end of a youth temple trip. Just ask Josh (Love you, Baby!).

There's nothing like trying to explain to your 6-year-old that she is not old enough to just walk home in the middle of the school day.

There's nothing like being 9 months pregnant and Christmas shopping all day looooong.

There's nothing like having your 4-year-old try to convince you to buy him some candy because "candy is good for you."

There's nothing like taking your children to see Santa and seeing how they suddenly become shy (SHOCK!) and humble in asking for the present they've been adamant that they've wanted.

There's nothing like listening to your Grampa tell stories about how he learned that a fight isn't worth fighting if you can't take the other guy out in one punch.

There's nothing like realizing the bassinet your husband just put up will actually be used by the little baby in your belly in less than 11 1/2 days.

There's nothing like registering for your baby that you weren't going to register for because she's baby number four but your friends want to throw you a baby shower and you need to tell them what things you still need since you gave everything away when you moved a year ago and then you realize that there are so many things that you didn't put on your register that you actually need. Who remembers changing pads?

There's nothing like looking forward to your husband's maternity leave. That's right, I said maternity. I can't wait for him to be home!!

Sweet Dreams are Made of These...

...Who am I to disagree?

So, I had this dream that Millie was born. I've deleted the details of the dream twice now in trying to explain it because it was just weird. Why is it that pregnant women have to have such weird dreams? When I was prego with Emma I kept dreaming that I forgot her whenever I went anywhere. It's bad enough that I can't easily toss and turn in my bed and that I must get up at least twice a night. I also have to be haunted by these psychotic dreams. If I knew how to interpret them I may be scared. And to add insult to injury, I wake up from these dreams feeling overwhelmed by them and then I have to roll back and forth like a turtle that's been flipped on its shell just to try to get out of bed. Just thinking about it stresses me out. Anyone have chocolate?

I don't get it

I don't really understand something, big surprise. At Halloween, no one at the girls' school dressed up except the second-graders who had a round-up and dressed up like cowgirls/boys. I think Abby was the only kid in her class that dressed up. But, for no known reason, today was "Crazy Hair" day. There was just a note that said the Leadership Committee wanted everyone to have crazy hair today. Whatever. We happily joined in the fun regardless of my confusion over when it's appropriate to dress funny and when it's not.

I french braided the girls hair last night after their showers so they had nice and fluffy hair. We also stopped at Walmart for clearance hair color ($.16).
It's hard to see, but we signed "A.J." on Abby's hair back here.

Ain't she purty?

Emma got to have black/purple streaks. She thought it was so cool. I normally wouldn't encourage this sort of behavior, but I feel rebellious, so I let the girls be rebellious too.

Emma loves her hair.

Matt had to have his picture taken too. I think he's showing off his muscles.

I know he's showing his muscles in this one, despite the fact that it looks like he has to pee.

One other note for the moment. I went to Walmart this morning to do our grocery shopping for the week--in and out in under an hour and under $100, thank you very much. Anyway, I'm determined to work off of the idea of the "Bro," the bra for men that Kramer developed on Seinfeld. There should be some sort of belly bra for big-bellied pregnant women. I guess beer belly dudes could use it too. I just don't know what we'd call it. Any ideas?

Say "Cheeeeeese"!

Here are our babies on Halloween about to head out to WalMart for some fun.

Matt was a spider. I don't know why my camera insists on making the haze. I think it wants me to buy a new one.

Emma was the Elf Princess. I forgot to get close ups of their makeup. I had to do it since Josh was working. It didn't turn out half bad.

Look at my cute Ninja Geisha. Abby said she was actually Mulan. We've never seen that movie, shocker, I know.

This was Emma's class party. I took a picture of her teacher and then my camera died. Like I said, I think my camera wants me to buy a new one.




In this picture, Abby is reading to Matt. It was so sweet!

For some reason Matt thought he needed to dodge this picture. Silly boy.

This is Emma washing her first dish. I look forward to many more days like this.

For some reason she wouldn't do the rest of the dishes. Darn it.

Did anybody else have a rough day at church today? The kids would not sit quietly during Sacrament Meeting. Then, the kids in my Primary class were SOOOO rowdy. It took more time to quiet them throughout the lesson than anything else, including teaching. Plus I'm having a bad hair/clothes day. I need a haircut. And the new clothes I got have already become too small. Seven weeks left. How am I supposed to make it? We had to wait in the ER waiting room last night to give Josh some stuff, but he was too busy to come out right away. Anyway, a family was out there waiting to find out about a loved one and one of the ladies asked when I was due. I said I have seven weeks left and she looked at me in disbelief, "Are you serious?" Yeah, I was serious. Even Josh has made the comment that maybe we're having twins. I only feel one baby moving, but I've wondered that myself. All prayers are greatly appreciated! I've got to make it through these next seven weeks!!!

Taste of My Own Medicine

Poor Josh has had a horrible flu the last several days. He was fighting a cold last week, but went ahead and got a flu shot. He's got a full-blown case of flu and has just been miserable the last few days. Yesterday he said his skin hurt. My natural instinct is to do whatever I can to make him feel better, but everytime I rubbed his back or shoulder he hurt. He tried to be nice about it, but he was in pain and couldn't take it very well. He told me that now I know how he felt while I was in labor. With both of the girls, I couldn't stand people touching my feet. It was the easiest thing to do -- walk in the room, want to tell me hi, and touch my foot. I immediately put Josh on foot duty so no one would accidentally wig me out. That's right, I said, "wig me out." He was so worried about making me uncomfortable but wanted to help me so much. Now I have a bit of an understanding of what he went through! ***Update: We found out last night that Josh actually has viral meningitis. It's not the deadly kind, but it's a virus, so it's just got to run its course. Hopefully he'll get past this very, very soon!!***

Thanks to everyone for voting, and those who couldn't: I highly suggest renting each of the movies. I think The Dark Knight is worth purchasing, and it looks like most everyone else agreed.

Okay, so I've come up with a Top Ten List. I'm no Dave Letterman, but I thought this was worth sharing.

Top Ten Things That Are Hard To Do When You Are Pregnant

10. Eating well. Why are sugar and salt so appealing when you should be eating healthily?

9. Touching your feet. Anyone who can tie their own shoes or trim their own toenails deserves a medal!

8. Proving yoo is smart. Josh says our babies are all so bright because they steal all my brainpower while I'm pregnant. My response to that is, "Huh?"

7. Sitting modestly. (This was originally called "Keeping your knees together," but then I realized the innuendo associated with that. Whoops!) Wearing a dress is a challenge in many ways, but keeping myself modest in church is a joke. Thank goodness for floor-length skirts.

6. Finding clothes that fit. (See picture in title.)

5. Finding clothes that are flattering. (See picture in title.)

4. Not crying. Stupid tv commercials.

3. Sleeping. How many pillows does it take to screw in a lightbulb...or sleep? Whatever.

2. Making less than four trips to the bathroom every night. 'Nuff said.

And the number one thing that is hard to do when you're pregnant...


1. Not talking about being pregnant.

Pregnancy Update

Well, yesterday I finally got to have my 28 week appointment. Problem is that I'm 29 weeks. My doc was a bit busy last week. He gets all the complicated cases and he ended up with 15 deliveries during business hours last week. Poor guy.

Anyway, I'm doing fine with my weight-gain, despite what the scale tells me. My belly is measuring about 30 weeks. The baby is moving and her heart sounds strong. My blood pressure is normal. So, things are going well.

Our only concern has been knowing what exactly I went through when Matt was born and how complicated Millie's birth is going to be. My records finally came in and my doctor lovingly and patiently went over everything with me. I couldn't quite put everything together myself, but Josh can listen to the notes and remember what he saw and help me place it all. Thank goodness he knows so much.

So, in an effort to share the news I received, I've decided to tell all about what happened with Matt. If you're pregnant or want to be pregnant, you don't have to continue reading...unless you're morbid like I am and like to revel in the horror stories of pregnancy. Anywhoo, the cord wrapped around Matt's chest and neck and with each contraction I had, the placenta was pulling away from the uterine wall, and it hurt really, really bad. That's an understatement, by the way. I was so scared of an epidural with the girls that I didn't have one, but it hurt so bad that I told Josh something was wrong and I really wanted the epidural. It was a good thing I asked for it because not long after that I was rushed to the operating room and if I hadn't had the epidural already I would've gone under general anestesia and Josh wouldn't have been allowed to come into the OR with me.

So, we go in for the emergency c-section because Matt's heart kept flat-lining and since we already knew about his heart condition, we were even more nervous about his well-being. The doc opened me up just as any doc would in performing a c-section, but when he attempted to pull Matt's head out, the cord was wrapped too tightly and he couldn't get him. He went to turn him a bit and Matt went transverse and I think this is where the problems for me began. He turned him even more and ended up having to pull him out breech. Matt was pretty lifeless. I remember when the doc handed Matt to the NICU team he said to them, "Jump-start this baby!" And I knew that he was in trouble. The NICU team got Matt going fairly quickly, but then again, my mental time-frame was a bit off. I got to see him for about a minute when they rushed him to the NICU to do his heart evaluation. Josh asked me if I wanted him to stay with me or go with Matt and I told him to go with Matt since I was going to be okay and we didn't know how Matt was.

Josh left and the doctor began to clean me up and discovered that in the rush to deliver Matt my uterus tore. The problem is, it tore into the ligament next to the uterus. I can't remember what it's called besides some sort of ligament, but it's not really a ligament. It's actually a bunch of blood vessels. This probably was the reason I lost at least 1800 mL of blood and needed a transfusion. Josh estimates that it's about 1/3 of my blood supply. Maybe a little less since pregnancy increases the amount of blood in the body.

Anyway, the main thing we were worried about was the shape of the tear in my uterus. According to the records, it was a "Y" shape, but not the severe Y. Most Y tears have an arm of the Y going up into more of the muscles of the uterus, which make laboring very dangerous and the prospect of new tearing a huge probability. However, the arm of my Y went down, which makes it much more safe to attempt a v-back delivery. There was also some shearing that occured. To find out about that, ask Josh. Anyway, my doctor looked over these notes and noticed that there were three pages of dictation, which is a lot, and he couldn't find it, but he remembered that the time we spent in the OR was written in there somewhere and it was quite a significant amount of time. He told me that his usual time in a c-section is about 10 minutes. Can you imagine having your baby within 10 minutes of deciding it's time to have her? Anyway, he said 20 minutes in a c-section is because it has complications, but I was in there for a lot longer than that.

With all this new information, my doctor told me that based on the record he would recommend doing a v-back, but he wanted to know what the delivering doctor had told me. This is what I really like about my doctor. Not only does he know the delivering doctor (they practiced together in San Diego) but he trusted me to relay the message that doctor gave me nearly four and a half years ago. I told him that the delivering doctor looked over the divider at me (by the way, did you know that in a c-section they tie your arms out away from your body? I didn't until they began tying me down) and said to me, "If you have any more children they'll need to be delivered by c-section." So, even though my current doctor would've normally delivered me vaginally, he trusts my previous doctor that for whatever reason he believed a c-section is necessary and he'll deliver me that way. Plus, he trusts me to relay that message to him. He's a good guy.

I told my doctor that there were two things I remember the delivering doctor told me. He peeked over the divider to tell me about the c-section and he told me that they could only find 15 of the 16 needles they used to stitch me up. My current doctor told me that the usual amount of needles used is 2.





It didn't take long before I was pretty much out of it. Josh wasn't allowed to come back in the OR after the chaos began. He stood outside in the scrub-in area and after a few minutes one of the nurses came and closed the blinds on him. So, the poor guy was left outside not knowing what was happening. At one point a rumor began that I was going to need a hysterectomy to save my life. But it was just a rumor. I was in and out of consciousness most of the time Josh was gone. I was awake during this whole ordeal, but not oriented a lot of the time. I was afraid to fall asleep because I didn't know if I'd ever wake up again. I don't remember the x-ray that was taken to check for that 16th needle within me. The needle ended up being on the floor, by the way. I remember shivering as if I was very cold. When Josh did see me he thought I was shaking from fright, but I was just really cold.

I remember being told that I had to recover enough to be able to walk to the wheelchair before I could go back to the NICU to see Matt. It seemed to take forever before I was allowed out of the recovery room, let alone try to walk to the wheelchair. Because of the emergency of the situation my epidural was turned up very high and I could feel it's effects on my lungs. I had to think about breathing because it felt like my lungs wanted to go numb like the rest of my body. It took so long for the epidural to wear down enough to even attempt that stupid wheelchair. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and hearing that Matt was having to take bottles because I wasn't there to nurse him really got to me. I forced myself to stand up and get to the wheelchair. I fought the desire to faint and just fall on the floor as I took the three steps to the chair. But I was going to see my baby. No stupid rule about recovery was going to keep me from my baby, especially my baby in the NICU.








I stayed in the hospital for five days, but then we stayed in the inn at the hospital while Matt was in the NICU for another nine days. Luckily, my current doctor assures me that I should recover a lot quicker than I did then. Man, I hope so. It took over a year to feel better. I've never quite gotten back to normal, but I don't know if you can after something like that. Phew.





Thanks for letting me get that out. I needed to share. It's amazing how reliving the moment can actually help you get over it.

Rule of Three

Does everyone know about the rule of three? It's used in many areas: comedy, writing, placement, aesthetics, and bad stuff. We learned in doing improv comedy that a joke repeated in one way or another two times, so three times total, is a satisfying and complete experience for the audience. Of course, the joke has to be funny the first time. But three is the max: "And the Lord spake, saying, 'First shalt thou take out the Holy Pin. Then shalt thou count to three, no more, no less. Three shall be the number thou shalt count, and the number of the counting shall be three. Four shalt thou not count, neither count thou two, excepting that thou then proceed to three. Five is right out. Once the number three, being the third number, be reached, then lobbest thou thy Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch towards thy foe, who, being naughty in my sight, shall snuff it'" (courtesy of Monty Python and the Holy Grail).



Anyway, I was just bragging about how great life is with our new baby and new house. The last two days we've been feeling the pitfalls of homeownership. I'm not going to try to find the pretty, happy, namby-pamby junk to talk about anymore because it bites me in the butt. I'm going to stick with what I know, sarcasm. So far, we've had two home problems hit and I'm really afraid to find out what the third one is going to be. Our fridge is on the fritz. Having slightly cool milk on your breakfast cereal is not a happy experience. We think we know what's wrong and it may not even cost us anything to fix it, just the cost of ice for the coolers holding our food while I let the fridge defrost. Number two is our toilet is leaking at the water source. Josh fixed it today, costing us about $9, but he has to tweek it a little before it's completely fixed. I really am not looking forward to finding out what number three will be. Chances are it'll cost a lot more than $9!



And while I'm on this kick of near-complaining, let me just talk about this whole maternity clothes issue, AGAIN. This time I was trying to find some clothes to buy myself. Why do companies think that pregnant women want to dress like IDIOTS!?!? I don't do ruffles. What the heck are ruffles doing on maternity clothes? Are we baby-dolls? I stopped by Walmart for some items and thought I'd just check the maternity section, which barely exists, and the cutest thing I saw was a tye-dye tanktop that said "I'm with Stupid" and an arrow pointing at the belly. Okay, that's a lie, but it should be true. I just don't understand it. We have an Old Navy in town and I still need to go check it out. Maybe I'll find something there, if I don't have to buy a new fridge.



FYI: Samantha Who? begins Monday, Oct 13. Hooray! Love it.