Sounds of the sea

Lately, Ivy has been making these high pitched, ear splitting dolphin like sounds. She seems to be really happy about it and she isn't screaming so we are ok with this. She does still scream an abnormal amount of time during the day, but this dolphin sound has recently come about and is pretty funny. The screaming, however, is really getting old, it exhausts me. Screaming from 5 til around 7, when I lay her down in her snugly gown and shut her door. She falls asleep immediately. I get her up around 9 and feed her and back to bed she goes. She then sleeps all night. Around 530, or so, we hear her singing in her crib. She is apparently summoning the dolphins.


Why, baby, why?

For a week, we had cousins in from Seattle. An 8 and 5 year old. It was interesting because we rarely have any people at all in our house for any given time. It was noisy and chaotic. Ivy slept all night, every night. Would go to bed at 9 or so and sleep til 7. How does this work? Cousins left and she was back at getting up at 330. Last week, we welcomed another guest. At 9 or so, Ivy goes to bed and around 7, she gets up. Wow! I am liking this sleeping through the night deal. My boobs are even used to it. My question is, when our guest leaves, will she go back to getting up early? I don't think that I am going to like that much. Maybe I should make him stay so I can sleep all night.


More chatter

Mia comes over to sit by me while I'm nursing. I am expecting a "boob" comment or maybe even a song. Sometimes, she breaks out the camera from my cell phone and does her own little photo session of the whole nursing experience. Thankfully, she is not YouTube literate, or I'm sure I would be splashed all over the Internet. Anyway, she looks up at me lovingly, and while stroking her baby sister's head, says, "I don't want you to have any babies." I tell her we are done with having babies. She further explains that she doesn't want Ivy! I ask her is she loves Ivy and she says she does, she just doesn't like it that Ivy wakes her up at night. Too funny!


Yesterday afternoon, Mia and I were cuddling under the covers at naptime. She was worn out from playing in the snow and sledding and I was, well, just worn out. Ivy sleeps pretty well, usually 4-5 hours at a time. I am thankful for this but it doesn't mean that I'm not tired. Anyway, Mia is holding my hand and asks me if on Monday we can have another baby?!? Um, no. She explains that she loves her baby sister so much and loves to help give her a bath. Good reasons, but I don't think that there will be any more babies. For one, I did have my tubes tied. Two, I am going to be ancient when the girls graduate college and start their own families. Plus, I would like to get some sleep someday. I told her that our baby days were done and to please go to sleep. I love that crazy, little girl.



I know there are men obsessed by boobs. I never thought that I would become obsessed with them. Because I didn't nurse Mia, I had no idea what it would entail. Nursing Ivy, while fairly easy, has given me anxiety. For one, my boobs are huge and heavy. I swear that they must weigh 100lbs. each. When they become engorged, I feel horrible, like they are going to explode and spray milk all over the walls. I have, in fact, sprayed my poor baby in the face numerous times. It seems like my left boob is the rogue sprayer, always full and ready to go. It sucks, and I hate to say that since it is pretty cliche. Anyway, I have to pad up numerous times a day to prevent leaking, it isn't like I am embarrassed because I don't go anywhere for anyone to see the milk spreading across my shirt, it is just I hate to have that wet feeling and I only have so many bras I can change into. I have these pads called Lily Pads. They are more like big bandaids. I haven't used them because they use adhesive to stick on and that is a bit unnerving. I can't imagine having to tear one off my boob, like some kind of huge bandaid, yanking off delicate skin. Maybe I will get brave, sometime. My time of blogging is now done, as my little baby is crying. Wonder what she wants?


Sick Baby

Ivy is almost a month old and already we have been to the ER. She is so congested, coughing, sneezing and gagging. I am leery of RSV, so we packed her up and took her to the hospital. We didn't have to stay too long because Wesley has a pediatric ER now. Everyone was really helpful and fast. Everything looked ok but she does in fact have bronchiolitis. It was a rough night eating and sleeping. I feel awful that she feels so bad.


Some pictures







A Baby Story

Cue the baby music, I am going to tell my story of the birth of little Ivy Paige. I had a C section. That is all...

Ok, there is more. This is the loooonngg version, so bear with me. At 11am, 13 January, my mom and I headed to the hospital with my dad and Mia following. I am thinking that I will park in the spots marked for laboring moms. I know, I know, I was scheduled for a C section, but I was having real contractions and I knew the car would be moved within a couple of hours anyway. Well, my dishonesty caught up with me and we couldn't find a space. I drive around and finally go up the wrong way and park close enough so that I am able to waddle with some success to the entrance. The group heads up to the second floor and I check in, giving the woman 12 pieces of ID and insurance info and head to the waiting room to, you know, wait.

A nurse calls me about 20 minutes later. It was go time. I got in my fetching gown, which Mia has declared, "beautiful." I pee, get my IV and have to answer the same questions, asked by 3 different people. I love interns, residents and all of the other people that should have just listened to the nurse when she asked the questions. I meet the whole gang of people that are going to witness the birth of the little bun. The resident, Dr. Keys, is described by that guy I married, as a "hottie." Just what I need when I am 39 weeks pregnant and looked like a beached whale. I think she sucks.

The nurse comes back and says Dr. D is still attending a birth at St. Joe, so we are in a holding pattern. I guess I can wait, some poor woman is actually laboring and I am sitting pretty in a birthing bed, that seems to want to eat me. I ask if we can change the angle I am sitting at. The nurse is fine with that and hits the button to fix me up. The bed clearly has a mind of its own. Immediately, my legs are thrust into the sky and my head is dropped! Hubby is a little shocked, as am I, as is the nurse. She calls the move something that sounds like a trapeze routine. A backwards something or other. Fix me!

Around 2pm, we get the go ahead to drive me down to the meat locker they call an operating room. Dr. D is there already and apologizing. It is ok, I am in the zone of concentration of all the stuff that I am about to endure to free the bun from her warm little place. I explain to whoever will listen that I prefer to be informed about every little step in the process. I am weird like that but I don't like surprises. My teeth are chattering because I am not only freezing, but am afraid. Not that I really know what is going on anyway. The anesthesiologist explains everything and soon I am pricked by the "bee sting" that lets me know I will be numb in about a minute. Soon, I can't move my legs, yet they are demanding I switch beds. Um, ok. I lumber over and get comfy. The nurses count their instruments. Nice, at least I know they are looking out for me. I don't even want to know how much stuff they have to use to get the bun out.

I am mostly numb, the anesthesiologist is poking with his little claw, and they get right to work. The nurse takes a razor over my unmanicured lawn and then proceeds to remove the clippings with a rather HUGE piece of tape. Um, I am not totally numb and feel the yanking of the delicate skin of my lower regions. OUCH! I am finally numb and trying to move my legs. I don't know why, I know they aren't going anywhere. Dr. D and his wench resident get to work, getting things open and ready to lift the little bun out. There is alot of tinkering and chatting with the senior anesthesiologist. He is a nice, older guy with the gayest laugh I ever heard. The resident anesthesiologist is attending to my blood pressure cuff, which is killing me! It is literally cutting off my circulation and hurts more than anything that I have endured thus far. I mean, poking me in the back hurt waaayy less than this dumb cuff. Plus, my blood pressure is 155/100. What the heck, I haven't had a single problem with this until now? I can hear my heart rate drop and they ask me to take a deep breath. I would like to but all of my breath is escaping in that cuff. I endure the pain, thinking that the cuff will probably have to be cut off my arm or maybe my arm will be left dangling off the machine. I get a baby and it cost an arm, not an arm and a leg, just an arm. I am left with a ring around my arm of blood blisters.

After messing around in my tummy, I hear the familiar liquid sucking and know the bun is ready for her appearance. I am ready. Dr. D bends waayy over and lifts her out. I think he may be standing on a stool even. Who knew she was a couple of stories down? Ivy is lifted out and I hear, "Oh, my God!" This isn't something you want to hear, what were they talking about? The resident then says, "Look at all that hair!" She clearly had a little bit of hair. I still can't see her. She is whisked off by the nurse for all the necessary baby tests. She is weighed and measured, 7.2 lbs and 18 inches long. It is amazing what 2 weeks can do. Mia was 37 weeks and 5.2 lbs. I had given birth to a brute! Ivy had a little wig of dark brown hair. Hubby told me that while she was being weighed, she tried to climb out of the scale?!? She is a brute! Anyway, I didn't witness this so I am a bit skeptical. I am desperately wanting to hold my newest edition but my beloved won't give her up to me! Of course, I am laying, paralyzed on a bed with nothing to support me. He hands me the camera to see her. What the heck? He doesn't want to give her up. I don't remember at what point I get to hold her.

I am taken back to my room. I am woozy and need a long nap. Instead, I watch my family hold Ivy, while I am prodded at again. I am soon transferred to my new room. Hubby and I tune into the first night of American Idol. I am in and out of consciousness. Ivy's daddy holds her forever. I tell him he doesn't have to but he says, "She's new here." Very cute. It is adorable to see him hold the tiny bun, all swaddled like a tiny pink and blue burrito. Eventually, twelve thousand people come into to prod at me again. They want to know my pain levels. Who can say how they really feel at 430 am? Rate my pain? I can't move my legs, can't pee, am bleeding and my husband is snoring like a bear. My pain is high, can you give him something???

I am eating way more than ever. The food in the hospital isn't as bad as I remember, at least I get to order what I want. I drink multiple pitchers of water per day, plus juice, tea and whatever else they will bring me. They have these yummy breakfast sandwiches now too. Anyway, the food didn't make me sick but something did.

On Thursday, I am struck with horrible diarrhea. I am still having trouble getting around comfortably. This tube tying wasn't as easy as described. I am in terrible pain and am bloated like a dead cow. It is bad enough that these things are going on but this trying to run to the bathroom while I am in pain isn't cool. I tell the nurses and get some meds for the new problem. It takes over 2 days for it to kick in. By then, I have been up and down so many times that my pain level is at an all time high. I might as well lay in the bathroom. After a couple of days, I am constipated.

I have visitors off and on and am grateful. I am lonely for my husband, daughter, who is sick and my bed at home that isn't covered with plastic and makes me sweat like a beast. I d0n't watch TV and am not interested in reading. I sleep alot. My eyes seem to wander in different directions and I am dozing while I am trying to do different things, including hold Ivy. That isn't good so I have to deposit her into her little bed and hope she is sleepy also.

Everyone is sick in my family, so I have little in the way of visits from them. Mia is refusing to eat, everyone is coughing and wheezing. Stay away. I am lonely but I don't want Ivy to get sick.

On Thursday, my milk comes in. My boobs swell to 3 times their normal size. They are hard and look fake. I would like to give them back. Surely, someone wants to have huge breasts, just not me. Ivy's latch is poor, and given that I have no idea what I am doing, we are flailing. I soak breast pads in record fashion. Good lord, this sucks, literally. I'm happy to report that Ivy now latches like a champ and sucks like there is no tomorrow. Sometimes I want to hire a wet nurse. I am still soaking alot of things, like towels, bras, shirts, the Boppy, burp cloths, blankets as well as my little daughter.

I am ready to go home. It is Saturday, we have been in the hospital since Tuesday. The resident has tried to kick me out 3 times. Dr. D doesn't concur with her dismissal instructions so I wait it out. Finally, Dr. Jensen tells me to get out. I get dressed, get Ivy ready and wait for the pediatrician to release Ivy. We roll out of the hospital with a new baby in the backseat and a bunch of concerns. What am I doing with a baby? How do I take care of a baby? How can I balance my life? I am doing better now, but still have questions about alot of things. Every day gets better.


Some things I have learned since 13 January

Some random things I have learned since having Ivy Paige.

Male doctors don't know shit about the pain of having your tubes tied.

I was clearly a cow in a former life.

The leaking may eventually stop but until then milk is on my shoes, on the floor, on my pillow, on the walls.

Women don't generally get diarrhea after childbirth.

Explosive diarrhea, when you can barely walk to the bathroom isn't a good thing.

Once the diarrhea is over, you get massively constipated.

Constipation, when you can barely walk to the bathroom isn't a better thing.

Hospital sanitary pads are so big but don't stay in your fancy mesh underwear.

This isn't mesh underwear that your husband would find the least bit sexy.

Drugs "are" good.

There are alot more good shows on tv when you are taking Morphine, Percoset and Motrin.

Your eyes don't necessarily have to be looking in the same direction.

Hospital food has gotten some better.

Blue eyeshadow is considered acceptable for nurses.

People think hospital rooms are great for parties.

It isn't fun to sleep on a plastic covered bed.

Taking a shower when there are 6 drops of water and the shower head is 3 feet off the ground is not particularly refreshing.

Anyone can come into your hospital room and ask to see your incision, and you have to comply.

The resident can dismiss you 12 minutes after birth, but the "real" doctor calls the dismissal shots.

Pregnancy is a wonderful, miraculous thing. A baby is a true gift from God.

Hmmm, 0 days left

Yes, we are done with tickers, countdowns and all of that other business. I sit here, at 208 am and ponder the day's events. I am snacking and drinking, something in that in a few short hours, I have to cease in order to have an empty stomach for my C section. It's ok, I am going to be nervous and busy finishing everything up, so food will probably be the last thing on my mind. I am nervous, as I said. Surgery is no fun. Having your 4 year old freak out because they are wheeling you away, is no fun. Having someone stick a needle in your back, is no fun. Having someone slice open your stomach, is, once again, no fun. Waiting to see if your baby is ok, is no fun, and yet it is continuously on my mind. There are so many emotions, good and bad, that are surfacing right at this moment. How can I do this again? How can I make sure that I can spend time with the family, take care of the new baby and take care of myself, all while getting a bit of sleep each day? I don't know the answers yet, but hopefully will reach some kind of point where I can juggle everything. There are people that do it, of course, some have 4 kids, some have 18, but every mom is different. Sure, we can receive alot of encouragement but sometimes, sadly, it isn't enough and the feelings of dread become overwhelming. This is where I sit, right now. Hoping and praying that I can do what is right for everyone, without losing myself.


1 More day or today?

Last night, I got up around 23o with some vicious pains. I came downstairs to try and stop them. They didn't stop. I Googled contractions and found that, yes, I was having "real" contractions. I couldn't time them, there were alot of them but not long, maybe 10 seconds tops. I went back to bed and took a catnap. I called the doctor's office and he said go to L and D if they got worse or I could come into the office at 1 to get checked. Wow, I don't know which sounds more fun, but I opted for the office. We'll see...


5 days

I have 5 days left til Ivy is here. I am not counting Tuesday, I can do that because I rounded the numbers and it is my baby. Anyway, I am thinking the last few days will be worse than all of the past days combined.

I am not sleeping. Ivy is clearly a gymnast in training and is practicing relentlessly on my innards. It does not help that I am also having those non-labor contractions. I figure my cervix is about a negative 10, if that it possible. I guess it wants me to have a longer gestational cycle than the average woman, or maybe elephant. So, with everything locked up, I am still waiting.

Everything hurts. Everything. Even my arms hurt. My nose is full of crap. Speaking of crap, I spend more time in the bathroom then someone that just ate at Long John Silvers. I think I am having a pre-birth cleanout. I'm glad, I feel some better then I did with the massive clog that seemed to ravage me for months. Between number 1 and number 2, I spend most of my time waddling to the bathroom only to figure out how to sit on the toilet. I told you this last few days were fun.

I am pretty happy that I get a little baby out of this! Watch out world, here she comes! Well, at least in 5 or so days.


Last doctor visit

Today was my last visit with Dr.D before Miss Ivy makes her debut next week. I have been feeling about the same, lousy. I have to truck out to the west side to see him and by the time I get there, I feel like I am going to burst. Too much to drink before the long ride. I am being fit into the schedule, so I know that I am going to have to wait. I sit, squashed in this little chair, while the receptionist questions me about my parents. Apparently, she went to high school with them and wanted to chat in depth about it, no matter that I have a 42lb baby sitting on my innards. I look so bad that a when a nurse comes out, she asks if I am ok. I'm sure that I am making the much less pg girls in the office nervous. Hee, hee. I am thinking of yelling that my water has broken and the head is coming out, but I think better of it.

I finally get my turn, get in the sheet and wait to get probed. No changes. No nothing. HUMPH! I am perturbed but there is nothing I can do til next Tuesday. Ivy's head is apparently lower then last week, don't I know it?

The nursery is ready and so am I!


Good Lord!


I'm so big, I'm blocking out Mia!


Dilated to 4? Are you kidding?

Yeah, I am kidding. Yesterday was my next to the last appointment with Dr. Depew. Because I felt pretty nasty on Christmas and have been experiencing more frequent contractions, I got the bonus of not only peeing on my hand but being checked again this week. He felt, ha, ha there might be something going on up there that should be probed. The nurse handed me the sheet and off they went to disturb some other poor woman.

I sat on the table for 20 minutes reading about Nicole Ritchie's baby. Ah, how sweet. I bet she has a nanny. I glanced at the article about Angelina and how svelte she is, even after recently giving birth to twins. Yeah, I hate her. I bet her nanny actually gave birth to the twins. I checked the book reviews and saw one about a grieving mom that lost her baby close to her due date. Uh, yeah, where is a Popular Mechanics when you need one?

Pretty soon, everyone is back for the cervix checking party. It doesn't really hurt it is just the thought of having an arm that is attached to someone you don't know that well, stuffed WAAAAYYYY up there in the regional vicinity of your baby.

He looks at me, rather forlornly, and adds there are no changes. Well, maybe . this much. Do you see that period? That is about all I am. My cervix is locked up tighter than Ft. Knox. He does mention that the little girl's head is RIGHTTHERE, like I haven't felt her trying to get out before. It is clear, to me, at least, that she has some kind of plans with someone, shopping date or something, that she is getting ready for. The truth is, am I ready?


Baby tease or stomach flu

Ah, Christmas day, a time where you are supposed to watch your children open presents, open a few yourself and enjoy a big breakfast. I did those things, til about 11am, when I was forced into bed with extreme nausea and what I guess were extreme Braxton Hicks contractions. I laid in about a million different positions but to absolutely no avail. I couldn't sleep, couldn't get comfortable and had no visitors. Everyone was downstairs playing with toys and drinking Rum and Cokes. No fun for me. I didn't even want to drink water. So, I laid there and did nothing but moan and watch the Duggar's. Words can't describe that show. Here I am whining about having 1 baby and she has had 18. I will just let that subject die for now, as it is so crazy.

I can't sleep til around 230am. Nothing is comfortable and I am running that hot versus cold thing. Maybe I have a stomach bug, but I am having contractions and they aren't very fun. Baby Ivy is moving, my stomach is moving, my legs are moving. Can't it all just stop? Ugh. I have had to pee a gallon 3 or 4 times this evening. What the heck is going on?

I finally fall asleep around 330 or so. I wake up, contractions are still there but there isn't much nausea and I am very thankful. It has been a much better day today. I don't know whether it was being pg or being sick, but I am glad it is over.



Well, that isn't entirely true. Actually, it isn't true at all. I went for another weekly appointment and was treated to my Group B Strep Test and a bit of a checking. Fun. I figured it was the week of Christmas, so why shouldn't Dr. D get a double present? YUCK! Anyway, neither was bad, even the checking. I don't have tonsils so it wasn't a big deal. So... I'm not dilated and my cervix is thick. Hmmm... At least I may not go into labor on Christmas day. I have my next appointment on Monday, so guess we will see if I have made any progress. Merry Christmas!



I am so sore that I can barely move. Miss Ivy is causing all of my muscles to pull. It really sucks because I can't even really turn over in bed. I can't always sleep in the same position, really, Ivy doesn't, but I am being forced to sleep only on my left side with my arms pulled in because even they hurt. Ugh. Oh, I am so ready.

The other day, Mia and I watched, "A Baby Story," on TLC. The woman had a daughter about Mia's age and was going to have another C section. Well... Her OB/GYN was gone for a week and wouldn't you know, she went in LABOR! The horror! They ended up doing a C section but she didn't look like she was having a bunch of fun with all of her contractions. Ugh. I don't want labor!

I have decided that I will let Dr. D check me, so at least I know if there is a good chance that something is going on down there. Ugh. I don't want to go into labor on Christmas or anything. I am keeping my fingers crossed that I can skip that. Until then, I will be reading my pregnancy book to see what the signs of labor actually are. Yeah, well, I know I should know, I just don't. Better safe than sorry.


Doctor visit

Nothing spectacular to report. Everything, including my ankles, are good. Dr. D is pleased with everything. He did show some concern for the fact that I can barely stand upright and mentioned that it must really bother me because I have never complained to him. Well, yeah, it hurts but apparently I am stuck with it for the next 5, count them, 5 weeks. By the time my C section arrives, I will likely be prostrate somewhere in the basement, a pile of laundry covering my massive frame. The nurse did tell me that he would be glad to check me to see if I was dilated. Glad to check me? Wow, I seriously doubt that, but I decided to pass. I go back in 2 weeks for my early Christmas present, a hepatitis swab of the vagina and maybe if Dr. D is lucky, a quick poke at my cervix. Merry Christmas, Dr. D!


Springing a leak

I was sitting propped up in bed the other night, reading, when I noticed the cat suspiciously sniffing at my shirt. There were 2 little wet spots right near my boob, which I figured she left from her little, wet nose. Well, no, apparently not. My left boob seems to have sprung a bit of a leak! Hmmm... I kind of figured it was a bit early for the boobie juice, but I guess not. I forced the cat off me and had a look. The dinner plate was clearly producing something of interest. I don't recall this happening with Mia but I know things are way different with baby Ivy P. For instance, I feel like I am lugging around 50 lbs of potatoes under my shirt. She moves like she is already taking dance lessons, shifting me from left to right. I have never been more constipated in my life. I have never consumed more peanut M&M's in my life. I guess every pregnancy is different, just as every baby is different. One thing that remains a constant is that I am ready to have the bun, just as I was with Mia.


Big, big, big

Last night, we decided to celebrate our 5th anniversary. Partially due to the fact that we have company coming at that time, partially because I am getting so BIG that going out, walking, and some sitting in chairs is nearly impossible. So, we go out to Hu Hot and have Mongolian BBQ. I had 2 plates, that really isn't that much, but the second plate was so hot, that I had to pass it to darling husband. As we were passing out of the crowded restaurant, I heard a woman say to her husband, "She is going to have that baby anytime." I wanted to stop, grab her, shake her and yell, "Can you give me an exact time? I need to know, I can't wait until January 13th!" I didn't, instead I hiked my enormous butt to Best Buy, and let me tell you, it isn't very close. We had to make a pit stop in Dick's so I could rest. I sat in the shoe area on a solid wood bench. I may has well has sat on a bed of nails. I waddled to the front, after my 2 minute rest, and continued the hike to Best Buy. It was cold and I looked like an Abominable Snowmom. The walk around Best Buy wasn't particularly exciting. I wanted to sit in a cart but doubt that the staff would go for that. We got what we needed and I made hubby go for the truck. Yes, we took the truck, an impossibly high vehicle not conducive to being anywhere close to being pg. We then headed towards the mall, a place where I can't wear anything, to wander. No purchases but by now I was feeling the burn of being 8 1/2 months pregnant. It wasn't a good feeling. We got home and I laid down. I feel great, if I don't move. Too bad that isn't an option.



8 1/2 Months Along

The bun is clearly taking over!



A craving

I haven't had a lot of cravings since I have been pg with Miss Ivy. Lately, though, there has been something. Back in October, we had our monthly Bunco game at Lori's house. I felt terrible later that night because I consumed more food than I should have, well, anyone should have. On the tables, she had peanut M&M's. I don't care for them, yet I probably ate all of them. Hmmm... Well, 3 bags later, I am guessing that they must be hitting the spot. I have snuck to Target after dropping Mia off at school, I have sent hubby to Dillon's to get other things and add some M&M's to the cart. I have hidden them in my dresser drawer too, not wanting to share. It is pretty sad that I am hiding them, but with my family, I won't get one if I don't. I am hoping to kick this habit pretty soon.

I visited Dr. D today and he informed me that I have lost 3lbs, which I directly attribute to my intake of peanut M&M's! Anyway, I got my check in time for the Ivy delivery. Still 13 January, with a check in time of 1130 and a surgery time of 130. I am already nervous. My surgery form says I will be in the hospital for 1 day! I had to question because I really don't think that only 1 day is enough. I was assured that I would get at least 3 days, thank God! The nurse wanted to see my ankles, I had to assure her that they were fine because I had to have darling daddy tie my boots because I couldn't bend over to do it myself. I am having regular contractions and lots of movement. I feel like some of my innards are bruised. She has dropped and is pressing on things that I don't think are particularly comfortable. Certain movements and I swear I am going to pee my pants. Dr. D assures me that this will all be over soon. Yeah, in a few weeks. Until then, I may have to invest in some Pull Ups for myself.


Yes, I am getting antsy for Miss Ivy to be born. We aren't even close to being done with her room, but that's ok, I am still ready. The more I think about the C section, the more nervous I get. With Mia, it was easy, I read about it and still didn't know what to expect. Now, I know what to expect and am very nervous. Two friends had C sections last year and felt all of the pain. One needed to have anesthetic because she felt like she wasn't breathing. This is not stuff that I want to consider but still, it is in the back of my mind. I filled out my birth plan, though it is pretty much anything goes at Wesley. You can say that you don't want a student anesthesiologist puncturing your back with a needle, but you don't necessarily get that. You can ask that 749 people don't come into the room, where you are draped from the neck up but completely naked from the chest down. All of the goods are right out there, from the dinner plate sized nipples, to the retro bush. Just what you want a bunch of student doctors and nurses to see. I'm sure they don't really care, but I can hear them in the hall, whispering amongst each other. "Did you see that woman? Has she ever heard of waxing? Good lord, I hope to never see something like that again!" Well, anyway...


Baby stuff

I am waddling through the kitchen this am and flash the hubby a little glimpse of the bun. He takes a double take and then tells me that she appears to be dropping! Oh! Wow. That is kind of scary! I know I have several weeks to go but still... I am wondering if she may come early on her own. I do hope not! I have mentioned that I am no fan of pain, of any kind, therefore, this kind of news kind of scares me.

I am already having major stretching issues. The 400 times I wake up to readjust are due to pain in my lower regions. That, and the bun thinks the early morning is the perfect time to do aerobics.

On another note, we were at Target and I was trying to get a sense of all of the new gear that I will need for the bun. I told darling husband that I needed some nipples. He looked at me like I was crazy, stating mine seemed to be ok. Yeah, yeah. I stood and looked at the Avent line of nipples for a long time. They have 0 months, 3, 6 and beyond. Wow. I had no idea. Guess they are next on my purchase list because I am hoping that she will be able, or at least, open to taking a bottle. Maybe I can have a bit of uninterupted sleep sometime.