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The day before my due date I was terribly crabby. No, scratch that. I was downright bitchy. Nothing could make me happy, I didn’t want to do anything and I was done, done, DONE with being pregnant. That morning Owen and I met some friends for coffee and when they asked if I was having any symptoms of labor, I regretfully said no. Nothing! After coffee, Owen and I went grocery shopping. I figured the baby had to come at SOME POINT during the week, so I should probably make sure I had some food in the house. After no less than three cashiers made comments about me still “not popping”, I decided we were done running errands.
Later that afternoon we went out on the boat. We had been out on it almost every day that week, and every time I told Michael to really hit the bumps hard. Bounce this baby out! The bouncing didn’t do anything, but we had a nice afternoon — our last as a family of three. I made spicy burritos for dinner as one last ditch effort for the day, and put Owen to bed. By 10 p.m. I was still grumpy and figured I might as well just go to bed. I read a magazine for a bit and at 10:45, right before I closed my eyes I said out loud, “Baby, you are coming out tomorrow. Understand? Good.”
Thirty seconds later my water broke.
With no contractions to speak of, I went to the living room, shared the news with Michael, called my family and told them to hit the road, and started getting things together.
Last belly picture — one hour before being 40 weeks pregnant — baby time!
When we were ready to leave for the hospital, I tiptoed into Owen’s room, snuggled the blankets around him and kissed him goodbye. He didn’t wake, but mumbled a little in his sleep. I was overcome with emotion then, and had to leave the room before my tears woke him. I came out wiping my eyes and Michael gave me a big hug and assured me that Owen was going to be just fine. (Spoiler: he is!)
My mother-in-law arrived soon after, and as I was now having contractions about 5 to 7 minutes apart, we headed out. We checked in around 12:30, in the same room I delivered Owen in. I told the nurse I was maybe interested in using the labor tub, and she was all for it. Whatever you want to do, she said. I figured I would play it by ear. At this point, the contractions were, well, contractions, but they were pretty manageable. They began to set me up for the IV, and this is where things went a little wonky. I HATED the IV last time. Worst part of having a baby. I told them as much as since it was hospital policy I have one, I asked if they could at least put it in a different spot than last time (it had been right below my thumb near the wrist). Their first attempt this time was in my forearm, but it wasn’t taking. As the woman continued to jab me — and talk about how it wasn’t working — I began to get lightheaded. REALLY lightheaded.
Before I knew it, I had an oxygen mask on my face and the nurse was saying something about my blood pressure being sixty over thirty, and I don’t know much about blood pressure, but I know that is not normal. Baby wasn’t in distress, though, so long story short, in a little bit I was fine and they put the IV in the back of my hand. Wish they had just done that the first time.
The clock ticked into the one o’clock hour and as the contractions got stronger, I reflected back on Owen’s birth which was 16 hours start to finish. I’d only been in labor for just over two hours at this point and hadn’t yet slept. This was going to be a long night, I thought. I think I’d like to get some sleep. Right then and there I changed my mind about the tub and asked for the epidural and not long afterwards, I was comfortably resting.
My mom and sister arrived and since the maternity floor was empty, the nurses set them up with some beds in an empty room so they could sleep. I didn’t get much sleep, though, because the nurses kept bothering me. Every so often they would come in and roll me over, move the fetal heart monitor or check something or another. As it turns out, my contractions started getting further apart instead of closer together, and when they reached 10 minutes apart, the OB came to check me. I had gone from 2 cm at check in to about 6 cm, and they discovered that I had a second small bag of water (I didn’t know that could happen) that was still intact and was acting like a little pillow for baby’s head, slowing dilation. I asked him if he could break that bag and he said yes. As soon as he did, I felt TONS of pressure and when he checked me again not even 15 minutes later, I was 10 cm.
I told the nurse I felt like I could push, so they asked me to do a “practice” push before they woke up my family. Michael stood by me, I gave a push and they all said to stop. Baby was coming!
My mom and sister came in, everyone gathered around and I started to push. Unlike with Owen’s birth where it took a while for me to feel the urge to push and I pushed for an hour, this time it was immediate. The nurse laughed that this would be quick, then told me NOT to push for a minute (I don’t know what the reason was, but ah! agony!) I panted trying to fight the urge until finally I was all, “Um, I’m pushing…I have to push. I’m going to push RIGHT NOW!” and I heard Michael say “SHE’S PUSHING!”
And just like that, Ryan Mason literally tumbled into the world. Six hours start to finish, nine minutes of pushing. (And no tear this time, thank god!)
Owen arrived a few hours later and cuteness and sweetness filled the room. He was so excited and proud to meet his baby. We stayed the full two days. I could have left earlier, but I liked the short time of relative quiet where I could bond with Ryan. And then we headed home, our family of four.
Life is good. It’s tiring and chaotic and sweet and wonderful. I am so lucky.
(Ryan says “woe is me”. Life on the outside, man. Crazy.)
Looks like I’ll probably be posting that 40-week belly picture after all. Oh, this stubborn little boy.
Yes – my due date is still two days away. He’s not late by any means. He’s just not here here yet and we want him to be.
I had an ultrasound today to do a fluid and measurement check. They guessed him to be about 7 lbs 10 oz, give or take a pound, which means he will DEFINITELY be in the eight-pound range like Owen was. At least he hasn’t spent this extra time getting massive, unlike his mother, who is a HOUSE and weighs more than I did last time around.
But even in 2D, oh…was he cute. SO cute. I wanted to nom on those full little lips and kiss those kicky toes. Oh, baby. Please come out and play.
Even though it’s Friday the 13th. You’d be such a good omen on a day filled with “doom”.
- No baby. Seems at this point I should start off with that…ha! We are at the point where I have to text, not call, my family or they automatically answer the phone with, “Baby??????” Well-meaning friends check in daily for updates too. Only, there isn’t any. He’s still in there.
Today I’m 39 weeks 2 days, the exact day Owen was born. I thought for SURE #2 would be here by now, even if only ahead by a day. He is making it very clear that he’s going to do things his way.
We have done all the Get Out tricks short of Caster Oil (because, yuck), but I guess until he’s ready, they won’t work. That doesn’t stop me from starting each day by issuing a verbal eviction notice.
- The good thing about still being pregnant is that we have spent a lot of time as a family this past week. Michael was on vacation and our time together as three has been really special. Last night as we zipped around on the boat (hitting every wave, as requested by me!), I watched my little boy shriek with delight as he helped drive the boat and laugh into the wind and thought how lucky I am for these wonderful boys in my life.
- I cringe to say this, but I’m starting to understand the appeal of a minivan. The back of my Honda is packed solid. (Is Baby Got Back in your head now?)
Two car seats! Eeep! (For anyone interested, that’s a Graco Snugride and a Britax Boulevard. I’m a big fan of both.)
- What can I eat for breakfast to induce labor? I’m thinking leftovers blueberry pie… (What?!)
You guys. I’m so impatient! I know. I KNOW. Babies come when they are ready to come. But the remaining 12 days till his due date seem endlessly far away.
At this point last time I was done. DONE. I had awful sciatica, everything was uncomfortable and Owen’s arrival five days before his due date was such a welcoming relief.
38 weeks with Owen (left) vs. 38 weeks with Baby #2
Owen was born on a full moon. The theory about the moon bringing babies isn’t proven or anything, but some people say the gravitational pull does the same thing to your uterus as it does to the tides.
I don’t know if that’s true, but today is a full moon and nothing is happening. Not even a little.
I really shouldn’t complain. I’m comfortable. Seriously, aside from being a little off balance, I feel great. I have experienced prelabor, or false labor, whatever you want to call it, this time. I didn’t have that with Owen and each time I have a contraction (an hour of them the other day), I think this must be it. And then it’s not.
I should just sit back and enjoy this remaining time before being awake all night and having two in diapers. I should make the most of the 4th and the time left as our family of three.
But oh, how I’m ready. I just want him to be here! I want to hold him and smell his new baby smell and introduce him to Owen. I want my family to come and although I still don’t know if I’ll manage this labor without an epidural or not, I actually want to feel those contractions that symbolize his birth is eminent.
So I wait. Hopefully not too much longer…
- My baby turns two years old tomorrow. I’m kind of blown away by this. I can’t believe I will be posting the first quarterly letter of his second year wishing him the happiest of birthdays, because it’s hard to believe that just two years ago today I went into labor with him. Be prepared for some sap tomorrow.
- Last year we did the big first birthday party, but this year will be low-key with just a family dinner with the in-laws, cake and presents. We will probably do a second cake when the baby comes and my family is in town too. Owen is getting his first bike and helmet — both red (his choice!) — which will, I’m sure, provide hours of entertainment for him, and heart palpitations for his mother.
- In preparation, I’ve pinned about half a dozen cake recipes, so I just have to decide which one to make today. Yum!
- I’m 37 weeks pregnant now, officially full term and ready for this kid to come out. I’m not uncomfortable, I’m just impatient. I really want to meet him! The only two days I’d like to avoid is tomorrow (it would be nice for the kids to have their own birthdays, even if they are close together), and the fourth of July. Being a holiday baby myself (New Years Eve), I know how annoying sharing your birthday with the entire country can be when you’re a kid. Other than that, he can come. I have a feeling he’s not going to make an appearance until at LEAST the 39th week, but I’m willing him out all the same.
I’ve had three real contractions the past few days that were uncomfortable and familiar enough for me pause and think, “now???”, but obviously, they didn’t mean anything. Saturday I was in the mood to clean…and clean, and clean, and clean. Somewhere around 9:30 p.m. while steam mopping my kitchen and planning on tackling the bathrooms next, it hit me that this was exactly what happened the night I went into labor with Owen. I had two schools of thought: one…baby time!, followed by two…wishful thinking slash nesting to the extreme. Guess it was number two.
Not out, still in.
My appointment on Friday confirmed dilation has started — like, barely — but all that means is hey, guess what? You’re going to have a baby at some point. Duh. I know, I know. Babies come when they want to come. I was just hoping that him being my second would mean he’d come out a little sooner, that’s all.
- I think the solution to any sleep issues Owen encounters is to write about them on the internet, because after I do that they tend to resolve themselves a bit. After realizing that the sound of shutting the door was what was upsetting him and causing him to climb out of bed, I started leaving the door open a bit until about 20 minutes after he falls asleep. Success! No more opening the door. He just sleeps.
The main issue is that with the freedom to get out of bed comes the new routine of him waking so freaking early (see last post), and no. That needs to stop. I ordered a special toddler alarm clock that looks like a little alien and rather than making noise, lights up when it’s time to start your day. We’re on day two of using it and while it hasn’t been an overnight success, I can already see progress and he’s definitely excited about using it. I will do a full review of it in a week or so in case any of you are also bleary-eyed and so NOT bushy-tailed while your toddler drives trucks over your face at 5 a.m. and are looking for a solution.
- Owen is trying to climb into the baby swing so I should probably go stop that. Behold my (very near) future.
30 days to go. Totally excited.
Weeks: 33.5 – 46 days to go.
Wearing: Anything that stretches. A lot. My disdain for each piece of maternity clothing is growing more and more as I’m down to only a handful that I can squeeze into without flashing random slices of skin. I will probably live in this black maxi dress the remaining weeks, despite the fact it does nothing for my arms. It’s the closest I can get to wearing nothing, though, so it wins. Also, I’m pretty sure I had a VPL situation going on here. I tried my best to avoid it, but if you think I’m putting on a thong right now, you are damn crazy.
Physically: Oh, guys. I’ve done nothing but complain this week. Everyone is entitled to at least one REALLY whiny pregnancy week, right? (Just humor me here.) Overall, I do feel good. At my last weigh-in I had gained 26 pounds, which is a little bit less than I had around this point last time, but my top half has finally succumbed to the weight gain and has surrendered. That above picture is actually doing a good job at hiding the double chin and marshmallow arms. It’s where I always gain weight so I guess I’ve accepted it as much as I can. It’s still…fluffy, though. Blech.
The biggest challenge has been my left foot, which remains swollen while the right doesn’t. I had it checked out by a podiatrist to rule out any infection from when I had the plantars wart removed, and he thinks the pain and swelling are caused by me walking funny to avoid the pain of the wart, and therefor causing the bone on top of the foot to press into and bruise the tendon. There’s not too much I can do about it except keep an eye on it and ice it every so often, but it’s the source of my irritation lately. I’m just so aware of it all the time and it constantly is uncomfortable. I couldn’t enjoy my yoga class last night — something I look forward to all week — because almost every pose caused my foot to hurt. Again, blech.
Finally, this weather. OH MY GOODNESS. Summer came on with a bang and dumped heat and humidity on our little state. I love summer, I do, but I guess I blocked out how disgusting it makes pregnant me. I had lunch with a friend yesterday and felt like I had to apologize for basically sweating all over the place. Attractive it is not. It adds to the swelling, too. I told Michael that if we go on to have a third baby, I think I’d like to plan on being mega-pregnant in the winter. Apparently I like to torture myself by having summer babies.
Emotions:Ok! Enough complaining! Really! Emotionally, I’m feeling good. I still have bittersweet moments when I think about Owen’s world changing, but I’m coming around to seeing all the good things about that and not focusing on the fact that the original baby is growing up. He’s been such an amazingly wonderful kid lately, that watching him grow has been awesome. What keeps me awake is worrying about silly things, like who will be available if my labor is going quickly and I can’t get in touch with my mother-in-law to watch Owen. I guess that’s not silly, but it’s silly to worry about it at night.
Emotions surrounding the baby are mostly excitement. I cannot wait to meet this boy! Six weeks seems so long when I’m feeling this ready. I think part of it is I’m not nervous about labor and birth this time around, I just want to do it and have him here. Owen was born on a full moon and there’s a full moon on July 3rd. That’s 12 days before my due date, but if the moon wants to help us out again, I’d be totally fine with that.
Preparations: Baby will eventually be in Owen’s current room, so other than obtaining some art for the walls and raising the crib mattress again, there’s not a whole lot that needs to be done in there. This weekend we bought furniture for Owen’s new room, so he will move next week! (pics to come when the room is done.) Once he’s settled, I will get busy washing all the baby cloths and swaddling blankets and get that all set up. Around the 36-week mark I will pack my bag just in case and start setting up the baby stuff (swing, bouncy, bassinet) so Owen can get used to them being around. And then…we wait.
Name: I think we’re pretty close on a name. I hope. I really do.
- According to WordPress, this is my 50th Randomness post. That’s a lot of word vomit.
- Nesting has kicked in. I kept waiting for it, thinking maybe it wouldn’t come on as strongly this time around, but I was wrong. Suddenly I’m obsessed with getting Owen’s new room painted (this week!) and moving him into it. There’s a furniture sale at a local place this weekend and my mom and sister will be visiting. They didn’t know it until now, but I’m dragging them there to buy a dresser and a mattress. I’ve already bought a rug and will just need bedding and some accessories to make the Big Boy room a reality. Wee!
I’m going to leave the nursery as is, save for some artwork on the wall and possibly something hanging with baby’s name on it, so there won’t be much work to do there. At some point I do need to tackle the task of unpacking and washing all the teeny tiny clothes that Owen wore and putting them in the dresser. I’m actually excited about that.
The last project involves cleaning out our fourth bedroom that is currently serving as an office slash catch-all for random stuff. This will be converted to the office slash guest room (which is currently upstairs and the room that will be the Big Boy room), but will probably be pretty boring and unfinished for awhile. With seven weeks and change till baby is due, I need to get a move on. Like, yesterday.
- My foot is totally messed up. The plantars wart was removed (ewwww), but is taking a long time to heal. It’s still painful to walk on so I know I’ve been turning my foot at an odd angle. As a result, my left foot is swollen and feels bruised on top. I’m sure part of the swelling could be pregnancy related, but I’m pretty sure it has more to do with walking like I have a peg leg. Sandals don’t provide enough support so I’m forced to wear my boat shoes, which while super cute, are not what I want to wear on hot days. Any amount of standing or walking irritates it, so I’ve been spending a lot of time icing and elevating.
This didn’t happen with Owen, although the sciatica was worse in terms of pain. I’m stating to get a little grumpy about the end of my pregnancies, though, and the gimpiness that tends to come along with them. Yes, I’m totally complaining. But my foooot. It huuuurts.
- In non-whiny news, my house looks super neat and clean and that’s lovely. We had company yesterday from out of town and I spent the two hours before they arrived making sure everything was in order. I said to Michael that I should probably pretend once a week that company was coming, and just clean as much as I can in two hours. Of course this will only work if he’s home, but maybe it’s something I’ll try to do. Until, you know, July. Because I’m sure that idea will TOTALLY work with a toddler AND a newborn. Right.
- This morning Owen sat down in the living room with a book about becoming a big brother. I stood quietly behind him and listened to him talk about it. “Baby brother coming! I BIG brother!”
My heart, you guys. It totally just exploded.
- Oh, must go. Owen is using his crayons to color on his booster seat. Awesome.
31 and a half weeks.
Two months from today is my is due date. I think I’m in denial about it. I’m not really stressed; as a matter of fact if he came a little early, I’d be totally ok with that. It’s not like last time where there were so many questions that come from going through birth the first time. I basically know what to expect, assuming it goes as “planned”.
Where I find myself denying the fact that another human will be coming out of me in just 8ish weeks has to do with Owen. I wrote about it last week, how I was starting to get emotional about the time left with just him. If anything, that feeling is getting stronger, and maybe that’s part of the reason I haven’t finalized a paint color for his big boy room, or seriously moved forward with getting him out of the crib. Because he’s still the baby. My baby.
Our Eight Weeks Till Brother day started at the chiropractor. I wish I had been consistent about going last time around, as this pregnancy has felt way easier on my body. Owen likes coming because everyone gives him attention and there’s fish tanks and a train table to play with. He was happy as a clam when we headed over to Homegoods to do some browsing (because who doesn’t love Homegoods?), and was such a good boy as we shopped. I decided to reward him (and my gurgling stomach) with a special pizza lunch. We sat in the near-empty restaurant, just him and me, and shared some slices and a bottle of water. It was just…so nice. On the drive home, he kept telling me “Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy!”, a leftover phrase learned special for this past weekend. He can keep telling me that as long as he wants.
I’m not “done” with being pregnant yet, but I’m getting there. I waddle. Sleeping is uncomfortable and punctuated by frequent trips to the bathroom. I need Michael’s assistance to hurl myself off the couch. I’m hot all the freaking time. (That sweater I wore today? BAD CHOICE. I was thisclose to stripping naked in the middle of the restaurant. Probably not the best move.)
The other part of the denial is that once he’s here, suddenly I’m a parent to TWO children. Yes, NO DUH. What did I think was going to happen? But woo-boy. Is that a whole new ballgame. Sure, we’ll get used to it. But that unknown factor is chilling. (Oddly, one of my biggest questions is how am I going to shower with two kids? Right now Owen sits in the bathroom and reads books or plays with kid-friendly items like tampons. (What, it’s not like I’m using them right now.) I have no idea how it’s going to go when there’s a distracting little baby sitting there with eyes and nostrils that just scream for a toddler to stick his finger in them.)
This post is such a brain dump. Too Long; Didn’t Read version:
This kid is coming in two months, my baby is going to be the big kid and I’m overheating. Send ice cream and a wine that I can crack open July 15th.
1. I’m starting to find leftover crumbs in my cleavage.
2. I’ve begun to waddle. A little. But still.
3. I…well, I thought I’d never have this story to share, but…
Last night, after two hours of lovely prenatal yoga, I was saying goodbye to the other women in my class. As I was making my way over to my friend’s car, another woman made me laugh. Before I could even realize what was happening, I peed my pants.
Yeah, that’s right. I had no control over the initial leak, but luckily was able to practice a kegel squeezing just in time to save myself from full-on puddling embarrassment.
While uncomfortable and…damp…no one would have known. Unless I went ahead and told my friend.
And the internet.
Oh, third trimester. How lovely you are.