Parenting tips, 5 weeks in

So, yes, these are just things that work for us and OUR baby. If you have additional tips, let me know - what works today may not tomorrow, etc.

1. After the first couple weeks of newborn-ness, start swaddling the baby JUST at night. It helps calm them down during the early evening fussy time and signal that it's night-time, ergo, sleepy time.

1a. The SwaddleMe Blanket is awesome. Buy multiples. So much easier than trying to get a regular blanket to stay in place, although regular blankets are also great for naptime and snuggling and tummy time and the like, so you'll want a ton of those on hand, too.

2. Never underestimate the power of a lullaby. Pick one or two and stick with them ad nauseum. Even if you can't sing, they'll like it. And they'll come to associate those songs with, again, calming down and signaling sleepy time. For Meredith, it's "Lullaby (Goodnight My Angel)" by Billy Joel and "I'll Love You Forever" from the eponymous children's book. Hum the tune if you can't remember all the words, or make up new words - it's the tune that counts the most. I sung both those songs a lot while I was pregnant, so Meredith heard the tunes and recognized them early on.

3. If you're not breastfeeding, caffeine is your BFF. If you're breastfeeding, drink caffeine WHILE you're feeding the baby so it'll be out of your system enough before the next feeding. Or so I'm told.

4. Keep hand sanitizer at the changing table, so you don't have to wash your  hands after every diaper change (just the really messy ones). Also keep lotion handy, since hand sanitizer dries your skin out like crazy.

5. Don't try to introduce a new calm-'em-down thing when your kid is already fussy to the point of no return. It won't work. Start using it regularly when they're already calm and happy, and then it'll be more likely to help settle them when they're screaming.

6. Sometimes, you have to just strap the kid into the swing/bouncy seat/car seat/etc and let them scream for 5-10 minutes while you go to the bathroom or brush your teeth or take the world's quickest shower or take the garbage out. They will survive, and so will you, even if you feel like the World's Worst Parent at the time.

7. Get out of the house once a day, whether that's a walk to the grocery store with the baby in the stroller, a pediatrician's appointment, or whatever. GETTING OUT IS KEY. And babies often fall asleep in the car seat - BONUS.

8. Don't interact with them during nighttime feedings/changings. Simply focus on tag teaming with your partner to quickly, quietly change that diaper and get the baby fed & put back down to sleep in a dimly lit room before they have a chance to fully wake up. No cutesy singing to them at the change table or gooey silly faces during feeding time: Just git 'r dun. When Meredith wakes up, Dave goes and changes her diaper while I prep a bottle, a process that takes about 3 minutes for each of us. Then, I come back into the bedroom, get the baby settled on my lap, feed her, burp her, hold her for about a minute to settle her down, then put her back in the bassinet. 8 times of out 10, she's back to sleep in a flash and the whole process has taken under 20 minutes. We won't talk about the other 2 times in 10.

9. Keep a HUGE stack of burp cloths on hand. Seriously. I'm amazed how fast we go through them, they're probably 50% of the baby's laundry.

10. A sleeping baby is a beautiful thing. DO NOT WAKE THEM UP, even if it's time for their next feeding. Just let them sleep.

11. On the other hand, during the day, don't try to be quiet. Vacuum, run the dishwasher, listen to music, take them for walks in noisier neighborhoods. They need to be able to sleep through that stuff, and you don't need to tiptoe around your house 24/7!

12. If they're awake and happy, put down whatever else you were doing and enjoy them. So much of parenting a newborn is slogging through crying fits, diaper blowouts, spit-up and 2am feedings, that when they're cooing at you and making cute faces, it makes it all worthwhile. Making dinner can wait - your happy baby might turn fussy in the next 30 seconds, so enjoy it while you can.

One month

One month old on 12/4/2011! Mr. Broccoli will be
used as our month-to-month size comparison in photos...
Simply because I think he's cute. And cruciferous.

Dear Meredith,

It's 6:53pm, according to my laptop. In 15 minutes, at 7:08pm, you will be precisely one month old. Wow. A whole month! 30 days! And we're all still ALIVE!

You're currently napping in your swing, pacifier firmly stuck between your lips, wrapped up in a SwaddleMe blanket (best. invention. ever.) after a nice bath, bottle, and a diaper change, followed by a fuss-then-snuggle session - the baby equivalent of a swingin' night out. You're definitely a fan of the swaddle, and it's one of the things that consoles you when nothing else will. I'm not surprised, because I love being wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets when I sleep, too.

Thanks, Nonna A., for the month-printed onesies!

Fuss level: Medium-to-high. When you're hungry, a pacifier will keep the screams at bay while we change your diaper, but only if it's held in your mouth. You've started TRYING to hold it in with your little hands, but more often than not you end up knocking it back out and frustrating yourself all over again. You don't like burp breaks in the middle of a feeding session, and will holler at me 'til you belch, then keep informing me of your displeasure. Some days you're fussier than others, and some days I can see glimpses of your excited, happy baby personality. But you're only 1 month old, so this up-and-down-ness is to be expected. You definitely know you're the center of attention around here, and take full advantage of it.

Other things you hate: Wet diapers (but only sometimes, for some reason), dirty diapers, your swing and bouncy seat when you're already in a bad mood, being gassy, being hungry, tummy time, and not being snuggled enough by Mommy and Daddy.

Things you like: Baths, feeding time, making noises at all hours (awake or asleep, you're quite the grunter and sigh-er) sleeping in someone's arms, naps, looking at yourself in your play gym's mirror and making fishy faces at the toys on the gym, when I sing or read to you, when your Daddy says silly things to you, going for walks or car rides (unless you have a wet diaper or are hungry) and being in your swing and bouncy seat when you're in a good mood.

My first Thanksgiving (note the turkey-embossed onesie) - the
feast put me in a tryptophan haze, y'all.

You do have lots of physical therapy in your near future, I'm sorry to say: You have a bad case of Tortocollis, where the muscles on the right side of your neck are tight and you tend to turn your head only to the left, but tilt it slightly to the right. Since we don't want one side of your head to get flat from it being the only side you lay on, Operation Turn To the Right is underway. We're under orders from the PT to have you turn your head to your right as much as possible - we only place toys, books, etc to your right, feed you bottles on my left side so you turn right, and have you sleep tilted towards your right side, propped between two 5lb bags of rice covered in pillowcases. As someone who's had neck problems for years, I totally sympathize with you when I have to manually, gently push your head away from the left side, especially during tummy time, which you already dislike. But it'll all work out, and soon you'll have strong neck muscles on both sides.

The physical therapist and our pediatrician have been very impressed with the rest of your development, though, as you have a great range of motion, are very active, and make tons of eye contact - rare for a baby so young. I love the eye contact, as it gives me a chance to look deep into those beautiful brown eyes (yes, they're already turning brown, and I think they're gonna be the same sweet chocolate color as your Daddy's eyes) and say silly things to you. You smile in your sleep sometimes, and it's gorgeous and heart-melting. I can't wait to see you smile at us for real, and hear your first giggles.

At your 2-week checkup, you were already 1 pound over your birth weight, up to 8lb 13oz, and had grown from 19 to 21 inches. I'll try and weigh you tomorrow, but my guess is you're pushing 10lbs, if not over it already. No surprise there, as you're sucking down about 20-24 ounces of formula a day. (I had to stop pumping shortly after your Dad went back to work, as it's difficult to hold a fussy baby who doesn't like being put down and pump at the same time. But, you're thriving on formula, and I know you'll keep on thriving.)

Life with you took some getting used to, but now it seems like you've always been here, and we love you so much, baby girl. We're so lucky to be your parents... And we admit, we're eagerly awaiting the night you sleep for a full 6-8 hours. Please, start doing that soon, okay? Thanks. ;-)

Love,
Mom & Dad

Oh, right, you want to hear about the baby.

I have Meredith snoozing, sprawled out like a frat boy, in one corner of my lap and the laptop dangling off my other knee to write this - I hope you all appreciate my sacrifices to bring you baby updates.

I can't help it. This one makes me laugh every time.

Other than the whole thrush/breastfeeding/recovering from the delivery from h-e-double-hockey-sticks thing, life with Meredith has been pretty good. If you catch her cries right away, she'll usually calm down fairly quickly, the major exception being what we've dubbed Angry Hour. AH takes place usually between 4-7 pm and involves a hungry, gassy, inconsolable baby who alternately wants to be held and pushes us away with surprisingly strong little hands. Even at night, she's not too terrible, waking up between every 1.5-3 hours and wanting to be fed and changed and snuggled: I'm getting good at sleeping sitting upright, holding her in the crook of my arms propped up on the Boppy pillow.

Whuuuuuh? You mean someday I'm going to have to do chores?

The wee digestive tract seems to be in good working order: Mer farts and burps like a trucker (we're so proud), has lots of wet diapers, and saves up the dirty diapers for about every 24-36 hours, when the Crack Of Doom goes off BIG time. In that case, we just hang out with her at the changing table for 15-20 minutes until it's all over, in order to avoid a blowout on the couch. Since we moved to alternating between pumped milk, Similac Organic, and Similac Sensitive for feedings, she's had far fewer spit-ups, although I have gotten gakked on pretty good a few times. She's still on Diflucan, which doesn't seem to upset her poor tummy nearly as much now, although she tries to spit it back out at me at each dosing. She doesn't mind wet diapers, unless it happens while she's eating, but dirty diapers MUST BE CHANGED SOON.

The little maestro tries to 'conduct' diaper changes.

I'm still pumping 3-5 times a day (I need to pump at night but it's too hard to stay awake!), although I don't know how well I'll be able to do that once I'm home alone with her, since she prefers to be held as much as possible. But, any breast milk I can give her is a good thing, I keep reminding myself.

Note the cat tush horning in on the photo.

So far as personality goes, Meredith loves being talked to and held. When awake, she's very interactive, and cuddly when asleep. I need to figure out the Moby wrap so I can cart her around with me during the day when I'm home alone and maybe get more done than just surfing the net on my iPhone and watching (yuck) daytime TV. She always has at least one hand up by her face, just like she did in utero, and manages to get that way even when swaddled snug as a bug in a rug. When left unswaddled, she does the frat boy/Homer Simpson sprawl, as seen below.

Daddy is a good pillow.

Mer's repertoire of noises is legion, involving snuffles, grunts, sighs, squeaks, and squeals that we have a hard time distinguishing from the cats' mews at times. We can't quite differentiate all of her cries yet, but there's starting to be more differences between happy and sad sounds. When I'm sleeping, I still tend to wake up to most of her sounds (she sleeps in a pack-n-play next to me) but I'm getting better at realizing which are her dreaming/shifting, and which are her needing something. Dave tends to sleep through all but the most indignant of cries, but if I need him to grab me something he does so right away. I honestly couldn't ask for a more supportive husband and father of our child. When she's really inconsolable, he's the best at getting her calmed down using a combo of Happiest Baby on the Block techniques and his own brand of silliness.

I am concerned with the current lack of pacifier in my mouth.
Please as to be rectifying the situation.

Well, the wee bairn (Thorberta, Merberta, Meri, Mer, Munkin, Punkin, or Hunnybun, depending on who you talk to) is stirring and I think I smell a wet diaper, so I'll sign off for now. We're so in love with our little miss, and so grateful for all of your love and support. She's one lucky little gal.

Latch on, latch off

This is a post about boobs. But not in the way you're thinking. If you enjoy reading about nursing, read on.

Like any good type-A mom-to-be, I did loads of research on birth, parenting, and breastfeeding. We took an in-depth breastfeeding class as a couple, and I was psyched. Ready. Nursing bras and pads purchased. Laughingly eschewed having some bottles & formulas on hand "just in case". I knew breastfeeding would be healthy! Economical! Help me lose weight! Help baby and I bond! Magical unicorns and puppies! I also knew it would be difficult, but I was more than ready to get going.

Then THE BIRTH happened, and both Mer and I were so logy and tired from IV fluids, drugs, and general exhaustion that when a nurse tried to get her to latch on the night she was born, she wouldn't. Ditto the next time we tried. And the next. I could get her on for a little bit, but even after we were both more awake and drug free, she'd fall asleep after juts a couple minutes and I'd have to keep jiggling her awake. I got differing advice from every nurse that came in to the room, and even from the lactation consultant: Wake her every 2-3 hours to feed. Let her sleep. And so on and so forth.  Most of the time though, she couldn't latch on no matter how carefully the nurses and I positioned her. And she would get frustrated and start screaming to the point that nothing could console her.

I ended up doing what I thought I would never do: I asked for some formula to give her. She sucked it right down, snuggled in to me, and fell asleep. We kept working on feeding, and had a couple of successful feeds, but it was overall NOT going well and I was tired, frustrated, in pain, and not sure how to make it work. To make matters worse, by her 3rd day of life, she was getting thrush. Thrush is painful, and made her not want to nurse because it hurt. So I started pumping - we rented one.

We got Meredith put on Nystatin drops, which she hated the taste of, but the thrush continued to get worse. We tried supplementing the Nystatin with grapefruit seed extract (a natural antifungal/antimicrobial), but still, her entire mouth was coated with a thick layer of white and she SCREAMED every time we tried to feed. And my milk wasn't coming in - some, yes, but not the level you'd expect. So we continued to give her some formula along with the measly few CCs I was able to pump. The Nystatin didn't work, so our pediatrician put her on Diflucan, which has cleared things up right away.

Spent $$$$ on an appointment with  lactation consultant. Bought milk-enhancing supplements. Pumped. Tried to nurse a squalling baby. Cried my eyes out. And repeat. Managed to get up to an ounce and a half to two ounces on some pumping sessions. Tried everything I could think of and that anyone else could think of.

Finally, this past Wednesday, something clicked in my head. I have fibromyalgia and Sjogren's Syndrome, a autoimmune disease that attacks moisture-producing glands in the body: tear ducts, salivary glands, etc. MILK DUCTS ARE MOISTURE PRODUCING GLANDS. A quick Google search yielded no results (most women with Sjogren's are well past childbearing years), but an email to my rheumatologist did: Yep. Pretty much no matter what I do, I will struggle with breastfeeding and a low milk supply. My paternal grandmother, who was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis at 19, apparently also had issues breastfeeding her two sons.

Although the confirmation of my theory was disheartening, it was good to know I wasn't doing something wrong. Still, I cried some more.

So, I'm going to keep up pumping and giving Meredith bottled breast milk and formula. It's not ideal, but any breast milk she gets is good. And seeing a milk-drunk baby sprawled out on my lap after a feeding, content to snuggle into her momma, makes my heart go ker-thump.

I love this tiny baby creature who snuffles in her sleep, grunts through feedings, makes "Blue Steel" faces at us, and prefers being held to sleeping in her bassinet or swing. And as long as she's growing and developing on schedule, that's the important thing. I'll miss the intimacy of breastfeeding her, but I'd rather bond with my girl and have a happy baby and a not-stressed-out-me than drive myself into an early grave trying to fulfill this idealized image of mothering I had in my head.

And PUSH!

Editor's Note: For all my fellow grammar fiends, this post will probably be rife with grammar/tense/spelling errors, but I haven't exactly gotten much rest over the last week. So, deal with it. It may also be NSFW or uncomfortable for gentler-minded readers, but I needed to get this all out. It's long, it's rambling, it's not up to my usual highlarious standards, but here it is.

Monday, 10/31/11: Finally, Dr. B said that if I hadn't gone into labor by my next appointment on Thursday 11/3, he'd have me induced that night. I immediately scheduled an acupuncture session for that day. And the next. And the next. To wit, we have tried EVERY natural induction tactic that didn't involve castor oil or cohosh.

Thursday, 11/3/11: Induction scheduled for tonight at 8pm. My mom arrives from WA, and the 4 of us (Dave, mom, my MIL A, and me) decide to go out for one last big dinner at Enterprise Fish Co., which is a delish end to a very, very long pregnancy.

Dave and I drove from dinner to the hospital, and get settled into room 2518. I gowned up and left my modesty at the door. At 10pm, I was checked and deemed about 1.5-2cm dilated and 80% effaced, and given Cervidil, and told to get some sleep before pitocin was started at 5am. They gave me some Ambien, which made me loopy, but I didn't sleep much, just dozed. Some contractions, but nothing awful. Letha, the lovely night shift nurse, told me to focus on breathing out slowly during contractions to relax my body and help with the pain.

They try hooking my hep lock IV line up on my forearm but it doesn't take, so I have to take off my left wrist brace and let them do it on the back of my hand. A numb left hand will be my constant companion the next few days.

Friday, 11/4/11: The Cervidil was done at 4, and a Pitocin IV started out on low at 5am. Okay, so THESE are contractions. Nothing intolerable, but definitely worse than anything I'd had. They keep checking me, and still about 2cm, so the Pit levels are ramped up. OW OW OW. I could get off the bed and move around, but I can't. It's easier to just sit back in the bed, hold Dave's hand, and breathe and moan. At 6am, they ask if I want an epidural, since the anesthesiologist is going to take a nap. I was okay, and wanted to go as far as I could without it, so I declined. My day shift nurse, Meg, comes in at 7:30 and asks if it's okay if a student nurse, Paul, is with her. Eh, why not. Modesty is already out the window at this point.

Around 9:30am, Dr B shows up and checks me, still about 2-3cm but more effaced, so he ruptures my waters with what appears to be a gigantic crochet hook. Not much comes out, but daaaaaang that hurt. I get up to go to the restroom and more waters come out, plus ze plug (ewwww, gross). Things definitely get more intense, pain-wise, and the Pitocin is ramped up again. Puking begins. NOW I am ready for pain meds. I get some Fentanyl injected into my IV, I think around 10:15am.

The Fentanyl helps to take the edge off things for awhile, but soon they decide to up the Pitocin again and the contractions become utterly unbearable. I'm incapable of breathing through these ones, and am swearing up a storm and begging for an epidural. Sadly, the anesthesiologist is working on another woman's epidural and will be there "In 20-30 minutes." Are you KIDDING ME? Moaning, swearing, sweating and whimpering continues, with Dave trying to apply counterpressure to my back when he can and me rolling from side to side, gripping the bed rails. The contractions are now about 2-4 minutes apart, some far closer together.

At some point, they are having too many problems finding the baby's heartbeat and the contraction strength on the stomach monitors, so internal ones are placed.

1:30pm-ish: OhthankyoudearLordtheanesthesiologistishere! They have Dave sit down, since men often faint at the site of the epidural needles. I hunch into Meg the nurse, and manage to sit still through several contractions as they insert the epidural. Within about 15 minutes, oh, relief, sweeeeeeeeeet relief. I pretty much collapsed into sleep and napped for about 2-3 hours.

From around 3:30-5:00, I get a couple of small "bumps" to the epidural when I start to feel things again, but it's amazing to look at the monitors and realize the contractions are about every minute-two minutes and have some serious peaks, but I can barely feel a thing. I never thought I'd want an epidural, but it gave me the chance to rest for the serious shiz ahead and I'm now more grateful than I could ever have imagined.

At 5:00, they start having problems with the baby's heart decelerating, and Dr B is called. I'm determined to be fully dilated but still at a -1 station - the baby's head hasn't moved below the pubic bone yet. They keep having me move from side to side to try and get better readings and get the baby to labor down so I can start pushing, no easy feat when you're numb from the waist down.

Now things got serious, FAST. Suddenly, Dr. B and the nurses are panicking, and my bed is detached from the room wall and rocketed to the OR. WHAT is going ON? They're not telling Dave or I anything, and we're both freaking out. They're not being gentle with the move, either -the bed is getting slammed through doors and bumping into walls, and I keep asking what's going on. I've never been so scared.

In the OR, which is very bright and sterile, they move me over to the OR table. Suddenly, the baby's heartbeat is present again, and nice and normal. So it is determined that I'll be allowed to try and push the baby out. The epidural is turned off, basically, and I get moved back over to the hospital bed but it's left flat.

Side note: I knew at the time that the hospital windows are all tinted, so you can see out but not in, but for some reason I insisted that the nurses shut the blinds on the OR window even though the view was of a ventilation shaft. Dr. B and the nurses found this very amusing. Glad I'm still comedic relief even when I'm at my worst.

Now I got to start pushing, flat on my back, legs back like a turtle, head scrunched into chest: The one pushing position I swore I would never do. But unless I want to give into a C-section, I have to do it. And my GOD it hurts. Meg, my L&D nurse, holds up my right leg and Dave holds up my left. And from about 5:00 to 7:00, I push 3 times on every contraction, listening to Meg say, "And breathe out, now POWER BREATH IN, and hold it, 1, push push push, 2, good job, 3, you can do it," etc. A random med student (or nurse, or intern, I have no clue) who is holding up my shoulders & head starts chiming in with her and blowing in my ear, and I eventually turn to him and say, "I'm sorry, but could you please SHUT UP!? I only want to focus on one voice!" He kept blowing, though, and I had to tell him to stop breathing in my ear. I think this was about as mean as I got, though Dave would have to confirm. I was given oxygen, and the cold wet washcloth on my forehead kept slipping down during pushes so all I could see was wet cotton.

By around 6:45, I was wiped out and couldn't stay silent through pushes any longer. I was throwing up, grunting, praying, and crying. My legs were shaking. I couldn't do it, and said so. Everyone kept saying, "You're doing so well, you're doing so well, keep it up!", but it didn't feel that way. Finally the anesthesiologist, on hand in case we did have to do a c-section, said, "Oh my God, look at all her HAIR! I can see her!" and that one sentence motivated me more than almost anything else I'd heard the previous couple of hours.

Finally, Dr. B swept in and pronounced her ready to come out, NOW. Suddenly there were like 15 people in the room, and Dave overheard someone say to interns in the hallway "Oh, stick around and watch! This will be informative!" Uh, excuse me? The vacuum was retrieved, and with a few last minutes of pushing with everything I had and some I didn't know I did, plus an episiotomy, she was born. They put her on my chest for a minute, covered in blood but no vernix, pink and perfect, for a second, then whisked her over to the warmer while my epidural was bumped back up and a team of nurses and Dr B started working on me, since I was losing a lot of blood.

All I could say was, "She's here, oh she's here!" and Dave and I looked at one another. Everything in our worlds changed in that one instant. We both cried a little, I think.

She didn't cry at first - I think she was shell-shocked from the vacuum, who wouldn't be after getting hoovered out? - but in a minute I heard a confused "Waah!" from the vicinity of the warmer and it was the sweetest sound I've ever heard.



Dave stayed with her at the warmer and did the ceremonial cord cutting, but there were so many people in the room I couldn't see what was going on. I kept asking, "Is she okay? How big is she??" and finally someone told me 7lbs, 13oz. They brought her over to me, bundled up, and Dave helped me hold her for a minute since I was so weak. We looked at her and at one another, said some mushy stuff I don't remember, then I said "Meredith?" "Yep, Meredith Marie." I couldn't believe how much she looked like Dave. They then whisked her off to the nursery, Dave in tow, where he kept an eye on her and did the skin-to-skin contact I'd been wanting to do right after the birth but didn't get to.

The placenta was delivered, then deemed to be missing a piece, so "aggressive massage" was performed to get it out. I was kind of fading in and out of consciousness at this point since I'd lost a lot of blood, but could hear nurses and doctors talking about all sorts of drugs. Someone asked if I was allergic to Penicillin (no), and I got an injection in one thigh of that stuff, along with other things I still don't remember.

Finally, I was wheeled into the recovery room and laid there by myself for awhile under a huge pile of heated blankets, trying to come to terms with a suddenly empty stomach, blinding thirst, and the realization that I was no longer pregnant. After what seemed like forever, Meredith was brought in to me and put skin-to-skin. I tried to get her to latch on but she was a little woozy, so we just snuggled. For some reason, they'd given me my iPhone back (it was on the bed when I got slammed down the hallway to the OR), so I played her Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely?" and Billy Joel's, "Lullaby (Goodnight My Angel)" while I waited for a nurse or Dave to come back. I couldn't stop looking at this tiny creature with pruned skin, Dave's hair, my hands, and the sweetest little rosebud mouth.

Dave came in, and after another half hour or so we were escorted to our postpartum room. The two grandmothers came in for the adoration of the grandchild, tears all around. After awhile, they left, and we were suddenly alone with our girl. She was here. We were a family. It was official.

More to come.

Punctuality is for suckahs.

(via)
Monday, 10/24/11:
If one more person asks, "Are you okay?", "How are you feeling?", or "Any baby yet?", I will not be responsible for what comes out of my mouth. I fully realize everyone genuinely cares and is excited for us and the baby, but when you're 9 months pregnant, the size of a house, exhausted, and show no signs of going into labor, NOT having had the kid yet makes you feel like something of a failure. I can't explain why, but it just does. Inform FB that I will be incommunicado 'til baby's born, just to give myself a social media break. Secretly logging in to see who's posting what, though, muah ha ha. 

MIL says she's convinced baby has dropped, and from the pressure, I kind of think it's started to happen, but I don't see a difference when I look in the mirror. Went for a 2.5 mile walk to try and kick things into gear.

Tuesday, 10/25/2011:
Due date, still no baby. MIL accompanied me to my prenatal appt. Dr. B did a cervical check - not dilated at ALL, still "high and tight". Eff. Hooked me up for a non-stress test, involving a heart rate monitor and a kick monitor stripped around the belly, for 15 min. Heartbeat was crazy loud, and baby tried her darnedest to kick the monitors off. Baby deemed in no distress, doing "beautifully".

Dr. B then did a short ultrasound to check the levels of amniotic fluid, which were still fine. I said, "I never thought I'd say this, but puh-leeeze induce?" and he explained that, as of yet, there was no medical need to - a non-induction-happy OBGYN is a rarity these days, I'm very lucky! - so to please come back in on Friday 10/28 if nothing has happened since. 

Ate a highly caloric lunch at Whole Foods (their mac & cheese from the to-go bar is to-die-for), then went to Costco, then had a depressed nap. NOTHING? All these Braxton-Hicks and all this pressure and uncomfortableness, and NOTHING? Baby girl, you'd better be on your way. 

Wednesday, 10/26/11:
Went for 2.75 mile walk in the a.m., blasting peppy songs on my iPhone/Pod/whatever. Lots of pressure when I got back, a couple intense B-H ctx, then nothing. FIL arrived from Ohio, MIL says she was convinced baby was waiting 'til both Cowan grandparents were there. I am doubtful that baby will ever, ever arrive. I am going to be pregnant for. ev. er. EFFFFFFFFFF.

Also, found out that Dave's coworkers have started a poll on when baby will be born, and they're all guessing at least a week late. Meanies. I'd better at least get a cut of the winnings.

Thursday, 10/27/11: 
Another 2.75 mile a.m. walk, a few more intense B-H ctx. Still nothing that says "THIS IS IT, YO!" Do laundry. Putz around house while in-laws go out for beach walk and lunch - in major hibernation mode, don't really feel like socializing, which is bad, because I lucked out and ended up with  in-laws who are really fun to hang out with. Anxiously awaiting appointment tomorrow to see if I can get an induction scheduled before in-laws fly back to Ohio on Tuesday... Although they have very sweetly informed me that this was the risk they took in coming out before the due date, I will feel like a schmuck if they return to Ohio without having met their granddaughter. Plus, if I'm still pregnant on 11/1, I will cry. A lot. And possibly cut someone.

Friday, 10/28/11: Another non-stress test and ultrasound to check amniotic fluid levels, baby is still doing beautifully. My doc still doesn't want to schedule an induction, though, as he'd prefer to let my body do this on its' (it's?) own, so that there will be less chance I'd end up needing a C-section (it's more likely with inductions, since your body isn't fully "ready" for labor). Scheduled another checkup for Monday, Halloween.

FIL's coworkers also apparently now have a pool on when this baby will arrive. One of them said baking cookies is, for some reason, a surefire way to start labor. I make a batch of homemade peanut butter cookies. They are delicious, but they do not do the trick. Oh well. Someone on Facebook suggested making labor-starting cookies - essentially, VERY spicy gingersnaps with cayenne pepper in them. I shall do so tomorrow.

Went out to The Stinking Rose for dinner with Dave and the in-laws, in the hopes that copious amounts of garlic will "spice" the baby out. Delicious dinner, but again, no such luck.

Saturday, 10/29/11:
Another 2.75 mile walk, off to make those labor-starting cookies. Still no baby. [Expletives deleted]

Can't sleep, the clowns will - wait, no, nevermind.

Insomnia is fun. Insomnia when you're 9 months pregnant and have a 6+ pound baby doing the jive (well, the squirm) on your bladder is REALLY fun. I foresee several naps in my future today.

Still waiting, still pregnant, still having lots of Braxton-Hicks contractions and a twinge here and there, although Thorberta seems to be quite content to stay in Casa de Utero. Dave is insistent that the baby not decide to make her entrance 'til next Thursday, since he has to be out of town on a business trip Monday-Wednesday. No worries, though, I won't be left alone: I have a friend coming to stay with me Monday night, and then my fabulous mother-in-law (Hi A!!!) is arriving Tuesday morning.

Since it's 5am, I don't have to make this whole post make sense, do I? Okay, time for a philosophical tangent, then! The knowledge that any day now, our lives are going to change completely and irrevocably, is surreal. It's not just US anymore, we have this tiny creature who is utterly dependent on us, not just for basic physical needs, but to teach her about the world and help her figure out her place in it. Kiddo, I'm sure we're gonna make mistakes, but I promise we're going to do our very best. And no matter what, we love you and are so lucky to be your parents.

What now?

Today was my first official day of maternity leave, and it was STRANGE. My friend Kelly was here for a long weekend, & didn't have her flight out til late this afternoon, so we hung out, went for a walk at the beach, etc. I kept turning to her and saying, "I feel like I'm playing hooky!"

I've always had a job/school/SOMETHING I had to do, since, well, forever. And now? I'm just waiting.

Lots of waiting.

And yes, I'm still pregnant. Very. Trust me, if and when things change, there will be an announcement. For now, though, I'd appreciate people not asking me, "So, you STILL knocked up?" every ten seconds. Yes, I am, unless you hear otherwise.

For now, though, anyone have any recommendations for good books/movies? One can only go for so many walks and re-fold baby clothes so many times.

Dear Flu: Stop it.

Yeah, so, being sick with a flu/cold thing when you're 37 weeks pregnant? Not fun. The list of acceptable/safe medications you can take is very short, and includes only medications that have never, ever worked for me in the past (i.e. Sudafed and Tylenol Cold). Why even bother taking them, then? I've just been inundating myself with Emergen-C, cough drops, fluids, and sleep. Coughing brings on minor B-H contractions, which is just so, so, so much fun. And everyone keeps saying, "Oh, the baby could come at any time!", which just freaks me out. I'm so ready to be done with pregnancy, but the knowledge that parenthood is the next step makes me totally fine with her hanging out in utero for a little while longer. I'll just keep maintaining that she's not done baking yet. Gotta get a little more golden brown and crispy 'round the edges.

It's a Catch-22, what can I say.

Every time I feel a twinge or a cramp, I think, "Ooh, is this it, is this it?" but then it goes away quickly and I know it's not time yet. I don't think I've had any actual, for-real contractions yet, as it all still feels like Braxton-Hicks and people keep saying that when it's a real contraction, you KNOW. Will I? Or will I be one of those women who randomly wake in the middle of the night to find a wailing, vernix-covered baby in their pajama pants? Oh, would that be strange. I seriously don't know how that happens. How do you not feel a baby emerging from you? Jeeeezum Pete.

I have one more week of work, and am nearly done training my maternity leave replacement, & am working on getting everything tidied up neatly on all the projects I'm a part of. People are like, "You're STILL working?" Yes, actually, I want to feel that I've left for maternity leave having done the best possible job that I can do, pregnant or not. If someone hires me to do a job, then darn it, they're going to get my best work, period. I can't do it any other way.

And once 5pm on Friday, 10/7 hits, I will leave knowing I've set things up to run smoothly in my absence, and then I can relax until labor hits. I'll go for walks every day (with my ID/health insurance card & cell phone on hand, just in case), get a pedicure, massage, and facial, and finish tidying up around the house. I have a ton of DVDs I haven't watched yet, plus lots of shows stored up on our DVR. Hopefully, tiny miss Thorberta gives me at least a few days to enjoy being "unemployed" before she decides to make her grand entrance. And when she does... I can't wait to meet her.

On track!

According to today's ultrasound, in two weeks, our darling daughter has apparently gone from 4 lbs, 8 oz to 6 lbs, 2 oz. A gain of 1 lb, 10 oz, or 26 ounces, or 1.857 ounces per day for 14 days. No wonder there's been so much pressure on my hips and back - this kid is growing like a weed! I hope she doesn't get TOO much bigger, as I'm not terribly keen on the idea of pushing out a 9+ lb baby. But, as long as she's healthy and thriving, that's what I care about.

People keep asking what Our Birth Plan is. Truth? We don't have anything concrete. I can't possibly predict how things will go, and I've never been through this whole push-a-baby-out thing, so I don't know what it will be like. Painful, yes. Fast? No clue. Slow? No clue.

I have researched birth and natural pain relief methods, so I know what to expect on an academic level, but who knows how much good that will do me when this all finally goes down? My goal is to go as long as I can without pain meds, hopefully all the way, and the main things I DO NOT WANT are a C-section or an episiotomy/tear. But, if any of that ends up happening, I'll deal. The end goal is a healthy baby and mommy, with as few complications as possible. My body is made to do this, and do this, it hopefully shall.

4-ish weeks to go. Ho-leee guacamole.

As of today, there is exactly one month 'til my "due date" - I realize that such things are relative, and always +/- 2 weeks, hence the quotation marks. But, dang it, I reeeeeeeally hope it's more on the -2 than the +2 side, although I don't want her coming 'til she's fully baked. I keep looking down at The Belly and saying, "Now, listen to Mommy: You can come ANYTIME after Friday, October 7th at 5pm. But until then, just hold tight, mmkay?" Considering how well my "If you don't make me puke at ALL during the pregnancy, you get a pony!" incentivized parenting attempt went, I'll either go into labor tonight, or be waaaaaaaay overdue.

I have two weeks left of work, and am training my maternity leave replacement. There's no easier way to feel like an idiot than to train someone: "Um, I just do it this way because it works? Yeah. So, just try that." Or at least that's how it felt the first day. I now have a concrete plan for indoctrinating - er, teaching - her, and I think I'm making sense now. I hope. We'll see.

We spent part of this weekend setting up the "nursery corner" of our bedroom, where wee Thorberta will reside for the first few months: pack n' play with bassinet attachment, changing table fully kitted out with diapers and wipes, and a dresser packed full of freshly washed newborn and 0-3 month-sized clothes. A small baby bathtub is tucked away in the closet, with tiny towels and washcloths and baby shampoo. There's a new glider and side table in the living room, which I'm dubbing The Dairy as that's most likely where most of baby's feedings will take place. The "Go Bag" is packed and living in the trunk of D's car, just in case. We have car seat bases installed in each car, and the travel system (car seat + stroller) ready. A wonderful pediatrician has been picked. We're pre-registered at a great hospital. We took birthing and breastfeeding classes, and have an Infant/Child CPR class in a couple weeks. We took our babymoon, & are going out on one last big fancy no-babysitter-required date this weekend. I'm stocking up our DVR with lots of TV shows to watch, and working on cleaning and organizing the rest of our apartment. (Side note: When they call it a "nesting instinct" they are NOT kidding.)

We're basically ready, technically speaking. And I've never felt less ready for anything in my life. I'm completely terrified, but at the same time, so excited to meet this little girl who now has no room to really kick, but just squirms and pushes and snuggles inside me. I just want to meet her, hold her, watch Dave hold her, and kiss her tiny toes and sweet little face. I am so ready for us to officially become a family of three, but I keep feeling like there's something I've forgotten to do, to prepare for. There probably is, but I have four weeks-ish to figure out what it is.

The San Diego Babymoon: Or, how we celebrated the end of "Just the two of us"

Last weekend, Dave and I took our babymoon, by which I mean our last babysitter-free, kid-free vacation with just us. We drove down to San Diego and stayed at The Westgate Hotel in the Gaslamp District, which had a lobby so ornate that it would have even impressed my antiques-savvy grandfather. The first afternoon we were there, we wandered around the Gaslamp District, saw a matinee of Crazy Stupid Love (really funny!), and just sort of unwound from life in general.

The next day? SeaWorld, baby! I have always wanted to go, ever since I was a little kid, and Dave indulged my lifelong dream by buying discounted tickets through his work. I think we may have been some of the only people there WITHOUT kids, though technically we did have one with us. Obviously, I couldn't go on any of the rides (SeaWorld is half amusement park, half aquarium), so that cut down on line-waiting time considerably. We did, however, watch the Shamu "One World, One Ocean" show, which, aside from the amazing-ness of watching three GIGANTIC killer whales do backflips and loop-de-loops, was the cheesiest thing I've ever seen. And I kinda sorta loved it.

Up next? The Behind-the-Scenes Animal Tour. Dave bought tickets while I was visiting the restroom and refused to tell me how much they were, because he knows that the five year old girl inside me has always wanted to feed and pet a dolphin. And we DID. They split our tour group up into small groups and each of us got to hang out with a trainer and a couple of dolphins at the tanks behind the scenes. There was a pregnant dolphin (Calla, I think?) who especially liked me... I think she sensed a kindred spirit. Anyway, we got to pet them (they feel like wetsuits or kick boards!) and feed them unflavored gelatin cubes. We also got to feed eels (through safety tubes) and sea turtles. Awesome.

Dave insisted on buying our daughter a huge stuffed Shamu, too. This kid has already got quite the menagerie of stuffed animals, including: A sheep, a lemur, a killer whale, a homemade Raggedy Anne doll, two hand-sewn rag doll siblings, and a set of anthropomorphized vegetation - carrot, broccoli, and strawberry.

We ate dinner at Filippi's Pizza Grotto in Little Italy, per a recommendation of one of Dave's coworkers, and stuffed ourselves silly on old-school Italian-American-style pizza and lasagna. The next day, we slept in & then went to breakfast at The Mission Restaurant for killer blackberry pancakes, then took our time driving around San Diego a bit to see the sights, and drove home. We both took the next day off of work as well to sleep in and just chill out at home.... Blissful.

7.5 months: Anyone else see the resemblance?

I was telling Dave that I feel like I'm starting to resemble Alfred Hitchcock in profile. This proves it (though I do admit to kind of slouching a bit on purpose in this picture).

This may be one of the most unflattering photos I've ever posted of myself. You're welcome, internet.

Scratches all day

I have a warning for cat owners like D and I: Even if you live waaaaaaaaaaay up on the 6th floor of a building, and your cats never, ever, ever go outside (not even onto the balcony, they're scared of it), GIVE THEM REGULAR FLEA PREVENTION MEDICINE. Because if you live in Southern California, where the fleas are like Arnold Schwarzenegger Terminator Fleas, super hardy and resistant to chemicals, and you live in a building with lots of dog owners who probably never treat their dogs with flea medicine - after all, many of them can't even be bothered to pick up their dog's poop, why should they even consider flea medicine.... Your cats will become infested with fleas.

And then, they will scratch themselves. And the fleas will bite you, but not your husband for some reason, and the bites will itch like a [expletive deleted]. And you will spend several weeks disinfecting your cats and every surface in your home and vacuuming every day. And your older cat will freak out at all the vacuuming (because he is convinced the vacuum is THE DEVIL OH MY GOD RUN) and start obsessively grooming himself, to the point where he actually rips out one of his claws. And since this will happen, of course, over a holiday weekend when your vet is closed, you will have to visit the emergency vets and spend $$$$$ to get his raw claw-bed cleaned and bandaged. And then you will also have to give said cat antibiotics and pain meds, which he will also hate OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU STICKING SYRINGES DOWN MY THROAT I HATE YOU and get annoyed with you. And then you will take your younger cat (whom the fleas seem to prefer) to get a flea bath at the vets, which will give her that New Car Smell, and result in the other cat thinking she is foreign because she does not smell right, ergo he needs to hiss at her and attack her. And then you will continue the cycle of disinfecting every surface in your home and moving furniture and vacuuming, and it will all begin anew.

It's kind of like If You Give A Mouse A Cookie, but with small bitey insects. We're calling it Fleamageddon 2011: This Time It's Personal.

"Think of your cervix as a mini bagel."

We had our first of two 4-hour childbirth classes today, and it was nice to meet some other parents-to-be and get some ideas on natural pain relief, labor positions, etc.

The instructor, P, a lovely woman who's a mother of 9 and grandmother of, well, many, really tried to make everyone feel welcome. She's a little offbeat, and when she was explaining cervical effacement & dilation, said, "Think of your cervix, pre-labor, as a mini bagel. Puckered, a little puffy, and closed up tight." I nearly went into labor right then and there, I laughed so hard.

....I can only imagine what metaphors we'll be treated to next week.

8 Weeks-ish to Go....

Bullet point post. No time for actual post since going out to dinner with husband soon. Need to squeeze that in while we can before we have to find babysitters.

• Hit the 32-week mark today. Ye gods.
• Can no longer get up from couch/chairs/desk chair at work without some sort of OOOOFFGRUNT sea lion noise. Very attractive.
• Also attractive? Farting/burping. Will leave it at that.
• Left hip likes to go numb & radiate pain up my back. Massage in order soon. Yoga & stretches for now.
• Have just about everything we will need immediately after birth for baby except diapers. I hear those are important.
• Hungry. All the time.
• Tired. All the time.
• No, have not given up caffeine. It is the ONE vice remaining to me, do NOT make me give it up. Otherwise would be snoring at my desk by 10:15am every weekday. Not good for annual review time.
• Baby girl very active, possible future as Zumba instructor or other variety of dancing fool. Likes making the belly jump and flutter a la the movie Aliens.
• Baby girl also enjoys squirming into odd positions & then PUSHING out as hard as she can. Oh, the pressure.
• Getting rid of crud Dave has insisted on holding on to for years at a very satisfying rate. Ahhh.
• Starting childbirth classes next Sunday. Ye gods.

50 Pounds of Baby Clothes

As I mentioned in my last post, I went home to WA August 11-16 to visit my baby shower. When my mother's law partner's wife, Sue, found out I was coming home, she immediately piped up with, "Can I throw Janet a baby shower?" Um. Wow! Yes! Please, thank you! (My mother's good friend Margo co-hosted and offered up her lovely home for the shower, as well. Thank you!)

So, home to WA I went, and to the sweetest baby shower ever.

We received tons of lovely gifts, including tons of books, baby bathing products, two handmade dolls, and a onesie that says, "What Happens at Grandma's, STAYS at Grandma's" (And I'm sure it will, if my mom and my lovely MIL have anything to say about it!), plus stuff from our Amazon registry that was sent directly to us (like our stroller & car seat from my in-laws and aunts-in-law!!). Sue-the-shower-hostess also gave us a large box of gently used baby clothes from her 2 year old daughter. My mom had also purchased a large bag of baby girl clothes from her secretary, so once I got everything back to my parents house and laid out, it was an impressive haul. The original plan had been to buy a cheap duffel bag and pile all the shower goodies into it, then check the bag from WA to Los Angeles on my return flight. But there was just. too. much. STUFF.

So, everything got packed into two GIGANTIC boxes and shipped via UPS ground to our house. How much did the two packages weigh together? FIFTY POUNDS. That's 5-0 pounds. Wowie. When they got delivered, all Dave could say was, "Ye gods!"

After washing and sorting all of the clothes by size and putting away the bigger sizes (why keep them out 'til she can fit into them?), we have come to the conclusion that this baby will not need any more clothes 'til she's about 9 months old, or possibly even a year. That's how amazing and generous you people are. Dave and I are so very, very blessed to have such lovely, wonderful people who are so excited to help us welcome this baby girl into the world.

THANK YOU ALL, from the bottom of our hearts!

And now, for some pictures! These are just a few of the 65 pictures (!) that my brother, Sparky, took. I figured 65 pictures would make your eyes glaze over in boredom. Hence, the highlights reel.

Gifties!

Assorted celebrants, including, yes, my Dad (and my brother and his BF). Why should baby showers always be women-only?

Monkey princess ballerina!

Yes, baby girl, we do love you.

One of a pair of beautiful handmade dolls from Mom Rossi (I spent so much time at their house in HS, she's a second mom to me)

Pregnant Belly Bumps!

Oh, yeah, btw, I BEAT THE DEMON GLUCOSE!

I will write a post on my trip home last weekend & the wonderful baby shower two of Mom's friends threw for me (thank you again, Sue & Margo!) soon, but that will have to wait until I get all the pictures from Mom.

In the meantime, an update on gestational diabetes. Met with the nutritionist, who was very impressed with with my diet overall - "Clearly, I do not need to tell you to eat more vegetables and lean proteins!" - and gave me a few things to do, like cutting down on carbs a little (especially first thing in the morning), eating only 2 servings of fruit a day but unlimited veggies, making sure every meal & snack includes protein, upping my calcium intake, and drinking unsweetened soy milk in the morning instead of skim milk. The only part I don't like? Unsweetened soy milk. It tastes like slightly rancid liquefied tofu. I hate tofu, always have, always will, have tried it prepared a hundred different ways and there is no changing my mind, tofu is terrible. But, for you, dear daughter, I will do it.

Stuck to the proscribed nutritionist's diet for 3 weeks, then did a postprandial gestational diabetes test. This involves fasting from midnight the night before, then having the nurses take a sample of blood at 8am to get my fasting blood sugar levels. Then, you eat breakfast and wait 2 hours, and they take another sample of blood.

This was on Thursday morning. Friday afternoon, the doctor's office calls. Guess what?

NORMAL GLUCOSE LEVELS, YO!

Gestational diabetes, I no has it! Well, yes and no. They will still be checking my blood sugar regularly for the remainder of the pregnancy, and I have to stick pretty closely to the diet, but NO INSULIN! I beat the demon glucose through diet and exercise, just like I said I would. BOO-FREAKING-YAH!

Not to toot my own horn, but darned if I'm not proud of myself.

Be Glad

Driving home from Trader Joe's yesterday, I passed a car with a vanity license plate that read, "Be Glad." I couldn't agree more.

So, since I've been a bit complain-y on this blog lately, I'm listing some things I am glad and thankful for.

1. A healthy, active baby girl who, although she's now breech (and I have plans to turn her around closer to her due date), kicks and punches me all day and makes my belly bounce around like Santa Claus's proverbial bowl full of jelly.

2. That Dave has finally been able to feel our daughter kicking the last few nights & mornings - he'd felt her once or twice a month ago, but after that she'd decided he had a soporific effect on her and immediately calmed down every time he'd tried since. It's wonderful to share the experience of her kicking with him.

3. My forthcoming trip home to Walla Walla, to see my family (and finally meet my brother's boyfriend of 3+ years) and friends and have a baby shower. We are so blessed to have people that are so excited to help us welcome Thorberta into the world!

4. That Dave and I both have jobs that interest us and challenge us daily, even though his involves getting paged at 4am, in this not-so-hot economy.

5. That we have two insane, hilarious, cuddly cats that provide nonstop slapstick comedy and great snuggles at the end of a long workday.

6. All of YOU!

The Pregnant Woman’s Version of “All I Want Is A Room Somewhere”

All I want is a nap somewhere

Far away from the too hot air

In one enormous chair, oh,

Wouldn’t it be loverly?

Lots of pastries for me to eat

Lots of massages of my poor feet

Pastries, foot rubs, oh sweet, oh,

Wouldn’t it be loverly?

Oh, so, loverly layin’ ab-so-bloomin-lute-ly still

I would never budge til this

Kid is ready to come out and shrill….

All I want is a nap somewhere

Far away from this too hot air

In one enormous chair, oh,

Wouldn’t it be loverly?

In and out

Out
Normal jeans
Normal shirts
Getting up from the couch/out of bed easily
Anxiously awaiting the day I could feel our child kick

In
Elastic-waistband maternity jeans
Tent-sized tops
Having to practically forklift myself out of bed/off the couch
Loving every kick & flutter from our daughter, even when they wake me up at 3am

You want proof? Per Facebook requests, here:

[Left: 3 months, Right: 6 months]

3rd Trimester!

Today, I am 27 weeks pregnant, and officially in my third trimester. The end is in sight, peeps!

I am so excited about this, I am actually posting a photo of (thank goodness) former President George W. Bush chest-bumping a Marine.

BOOYAH!

My hips don't lie

...They couldn't lie. They hurt too much to think up a good whopper. Oh, pregnancy sciatica, how much fun you are. Making sure I exercise regularly helps, as do hip & lower back stretches, warm baths, sleeping with my Snoogle pillow, and begging Dave to rub my back, but it never goes away completely. Still, it's worth it every time I feel Thorberta kick.

About a week and a half ago, I took the required 2nd trimester gestational diabetes test. I flunked - not badly, but by a small margin. The cutoff for taking a second test is around 140, which isn't THAT high to begin with IMO, but better safe than sorry. So, I had to take the three hour fasting test. For three days beforehand, I was required to eat my regular diet PLUS an extra serving of carbs with each meal, which made me feel really logy and gross. I like carbs, but not that much. Yuck. Then, the night before the test, you stop eating at midnight and can only have a little water in the morning. Then you go to the doctor's office and they take your blood, then you drink the lovely lovely glucose drink again, which tastes like the illegitimate child of orange soda, Kool-Aid, and a jar of sugar. It makes me feel seriously nauseous. You get to sit in the office waiting room for 3 hours, with them taking another blood sample every hour to see how the levels change. No water during this time, which stunk, because my doctor's waiting room is WARM.

I flunked that test, too. Ugh. Given my Toews family history of Type 2 diabetes, plus my weight and autoimmune diseases, this isn't surprising. It is frustrating, since I still have only gained 4 lbs the entire pregnancy (all of which is baby + amniotic fluid + placenta) and all bloodwork etc up to this point has been textbook perfect.

So, starting Wednesday evening, I gave up desserts. I had a farewell bowl of cookies and ice cream, and nothing since. Hungry? Snack on fruits or veggies. Starting today, I began keeping a food diary to take to my first ever nutritionist appointment, along with a list of all medications and vitamins I currently take.

Please, everyone, pay attention to this next bit, which I am trying my hardest to say kindly and politely through this fog of pregnancy hormones: Let me say that I would greatly, greatly appreciate NO further lectures or advice on gestational diabetes/diet/exercise, unless I specifically ask you for it. I may be overweight, but I am not stupid. I know what portion sizes are. I know what foods are healthy, and what aren't (as opposed to someone who's genuinely surprised to find out that WonderBread and fried chicken are bad for you). I know exercise is beneficial, and Ben & Jerrys (though delicious) is not beneficial. I don't need a lecture, however nicely it is phrased or disguised as "advice". I don't need pitying looks. I don't need tips and stories about how your friend had gestational diabetes and gave birth to a 12 pound baby, etc etc. I am bound and determined to control this with diet and exercise, not insulin or medications.

I'll be saying farewell to desserts for the remainder of the pregnancy and eating so healthfully it would put a nutritionist to shame, except for the VERY occasional treat and the cake I'm sure will be served at my baby shower in Walla Walla. Please, don't talk to me about this any more: I know you care about me and the baby, which I am incredibly grateful for, but I don't want to snap at you without meaning to. I have enough to focus on at the moment, and I have enough hormones running through me to make an elephant start PMSing. Your well-intentioned advice would, most likely, be met with me losing it and yelling something unrepeatable at you that I'd deeply and sincerely regret. I would MUCH rather stay friends with you all!!!!

Now, who wants to join me for a nice salad?

25 down, 15-ish to go!

Our little Thorberta/Thorbie/Shazaam/Kazaam (depending on who you talk to) is growing like a weed. She's around 18 ounces, and 13.5 inches long, according to BabyCenter, and looks like this, except she's facing outwards, still.

Thorberta had her second fetal EKG this week, and again, she aced it - at'sa my girl! The pediatric cardiologist says her growth is right on track, and all the chambers of the heart look perfect. She also continued to demonstrate her dislike of the poking, prodding ultrasound probe by attempting to wiggle away from it at every opportunity, as she has at each ultrasound thus far. The doctor said, "She's teasing me! She'll get into the PERFECT position to measure her heart for a nanosecond, then wiggle away. This kid is a spitfire." No kidding, Dr. S, no kidding.

We took our first hospital tour last weekend, and it was interesting to meet some other expectant couples - many of whom were in far more advanced stages of waddling than I. The tour guide showed us around the maternity floor, including a labor & delivery room, and when she demonstrated how the hospital bed transforms into The Birthing Chair of Horrors (my term), the entire group went silent and many of the men went visibly pale. Hee. Next, we walked past the NICU, and saw a couple of impossibly tiny, fragile preemie babies under UV lights in isolettes... Cue the maternal hormones, making every woman there sniffle.

It was all very surreal, realizing that in just a few short weeks, I'll be the one in one of those hospital rooms, grunting and groaning like a prizewinning hog at the county fair. But then, oh, THEN, we get to meet her! I just can't wait to see her and hold her for the first time, and watch David meet his baby girl.

Daaaaaang. We're somebody's PARENTS.

The Natural Progression of Things

The other day, Dave said, "You know, I honestly don't think you'll get much bigger than this." Foolish, foolish man. He got a smackinamaowf for it.

Introducing Thorberta!

Now that we've made the whole "We're having a girl" thing public, everyone wants to know what her name will be. Truth? We don't know yet. We have a shortlist of our favorites, but want to wait until she's born to decide. So, in the meantime, I decided to have a little fun.

The next time a stranger asks what the name will be, I'll say, totally deadpan, "Thorberta! It's the feminine derivative of Thor. We just thought it was so unique and powerful, but still feminine." 

I announced this on Facebook, and after careful discussion amongst my friends, I'm proud to announce that her full name will be Thorberta Odina Eunice Wilhelminetta Susannadana Cowan... Aka "T.O.E.W.S." Cowan, in homage to my maiden name.

What? Yes, of COURSE I'm a good mother, why do you ask?

23 weeks, and OW!

According to BabyCenter.com, this is what our leetle girl looks like at the moment, except she's turned around: The placenta is at the back, she's facing outwards, and she's head-down, so those little legs and knees are pointed upwards.

Her kicks and punches are getting increasingly strong, and she definitely lets me know when it's time for HER to eat, even if I'm not hungry at the moment. But that's usually not a problem, since I'm now hungry about every 2.5-3 hours - seriously, I must be raising the next competitive eater. Kobayashi, watch out! (And, no, I still haven't gained any weight. She burns a LOT of calories, evidently.) Her new favorite pastime is stretching out her elbows for a good 5 minutes at a time, which hurts, but I think I've got it figured out.... She's either doing the chicken dance in slow-mo, or pilates. Future wedding deejay or workout instructor to the stars?

In extra-exciting news, Dave got to feel her twice yesterday! Once, she kicked his hand gently when we were laying in bed. Then, last night, we were coming back from a dinner date - fabulous tapas at Manchego on Main - and suddenly this wee foot SLAMS upwards and outwards and I had to stop walking because I couldn't breathe. I put my hand on my stomach and could feel a tiny heel (or a knee. not sure.), so I made Dave put his hand there. He started poking her. She started pushing back. There we stood, father and daughter having a poke-kick fight, oblivious to the fact that I was wincing in pain. They make quite the team.

I can't believe we have only 17 weeks (ish) left. We're taking two hospital tours in the next few weeks, and have another fetal EKG on the 7th, and another ultrasound on the 11th. We have to find a pediatrician, and start taking birthing, breastfeeding, child care, and infant/child CPR classes... And start buying important stuff like a car seat (They won't let you go home from the hospital without a properly installed car seat).... And still work full-time.... And, and, and, and....

I think I need a nap.

Dear Daughter

Dear Daughter (or Son, if Dr. B was wrong... We'll double check at 25 weeks!),

Feeling you kick and punch (still fairly gently, but it's getting stronger) makes me wonder what you'll be like. By turns, you are a chill little yogi, snuggling and snoozing for hours, and then a fiendish little pugilist, squirming and wiggling with increasing frustration as you grow and it gets more and more crowded in the Boom Boom Room. You let me know when you're hungry with extra nudges, and either really like or really hate BBQ chicken quesadillas, as you moved around like a rocket in there after I ate one for lunch today. Daddy and I still can't feel you from the outside yet, but you calm down the instant he says anything to you and puts a hand on my belly. It's frustrating, since I want him to feel you, but very sweet that you clearly know his voice and are soothed by it.

I hope you'll have your Daddy's aptitude for science, math, history, and all things trivia, and my love of books & music. Any way we slice it, you'll probably be scarily smart and outsmart us both within several months of birth. We look forward to being bested by you and wondering where you learned it all.... and then trying to explain to the police exactly how a six month old baby managed to bilk several hundred people out of their life's savings in a sophisticated Ponzi scheme.

There are a LOT of people looking forward to meeting you, little one. It's a bit like being a celebrity, with everyone asking me for updates and photos all the time! You have two sets of already very devoted grandparents who are chomping at the bit to hold you and kiss your little cheeks... And hopefully give me a chance to take a much-needed shower or nap after you arrive. Your Uncles Sparky and Iggity (Mark and Andy) are eager to spoil you and be, as they call it, "corrupting influences on your character."

I hope and pray that you are enjoying your stay in Casa de Utero, where it's always warm and safe and cozy, and that you'll continue to grow big and strong and perfect - and, if I may say so, rather adorable. We love you more than we know how to say, and can't wait to finally meet you and hold you.

Love, Daddy and Mommy

So, what's between the legs? (Whoops)

We had our 21-week ultrasound today, and everything looks great. Unfortunately, the doctor was too concerned with making sure all the requisite internal organs were there to remember to get pictures, but we do have one shot of wee baby Cowan's hand that I'll upload when I have a chance.

The heart, lungs, kidneys, spine, ribs, and limbs all look great. This child has the Cowan cranium (aka GIGANTIC), which is going to make labor quite the experience, and big feet, which could be from either side of the family.

Once Dr. B had checked out the top half, he moved the probe upwards to check out the legs. And that's where my mouth got ahead of my brain.

It's WAR

When you announce your pregnancy, it's a lot of fun - everyone is congratulating you, you're excited for the baby, etc. But once the initial, "Eeeh! You're pregnant! So wonderful! When are you due?" subsides, the judgment starts:

The strange thing is...

...I actually haven't gained any weight from my pre-pregnancy starting point. I lost about 7 or 8 lb during the first trimester (aka The Time Of The Puking), and have gained about 5 or 6 of that back, but that's it. TRUST me, I am eating plenty, and eating a lot of fruits, veggies, lean proteins, etc just like I'm supposed to. But if I don't gain much more beyond the weight of the baby & placenta, it's just fine with me. Clearly, I had enough 'maternal fat stores' to nourish this kid to begin with.

Check the picture out after the jump.... Plus more updates on the development of Shim!

Woooo, We're Halfway There

20 weeks, peeps! HALFWAY THERE! Cue the Bon Jovi!

Yep. This was me.

And I'm not ashamed one bit. (Via)

The Boom Boom Room

We've been joking for awhile that Shim has chosen the upper left hand corner of the womb as their "Boom Boom Room", replete with a deejay, disco ball, and bartender, since that's where I feel most of the kicks.

Tonight, we put that to the test.

We pulled this up on YouTube:

Kid. Went. CRAZY. This is, apparently, "their jam." I laughed so hard I almost cried. Who knew I was raising a hip hop fan?

Guess who aced their first big test?

Yesterday, we had our first fetal echocardiogram to check & make sure there's no fetal heart block or defects, based on my autoimmune disease history. I wasn't nervous until a day or so before, when for a couple of days the baby didn't move a whole lot and I thought, "What if there IS something wrong? Or the baby could just be going through a growth spurt and is taking some siesta time. Or... ACK!" I'm a worrier by nature, although I've got nuthin' on my Grandma Rosella who sincerely enjoyed being worried about anything and everything, even things that didn't need worrying about. All of my bloodwork & ultrasounds before this had been perfect, so there was no true cause for concern, but c'mon. I'm a first-time mom. I want to make sure my baby is okay!

So, we trooped off to UCLA to meet with a pediatric cardiologist. A fetal EKG involves an ultrasound where they focus in on the heart & map out the four chambers, the major nerves & arteries, and look at the pattern of the heartbeat to make sure it's normal. The doctor brought along another doctor who is doing an advanced residency with him (fellowship?) to train him on the procedure, which I was fine with. Both were extremely, extremely nice. This is pretty rare for specialists, who tend to be holier-than-thou and snobby in my experience, but I suppose when you deal with little kids most of the day you have to be a nice guy to begin with.

Anyways.

The baby aced their first big test!! The heart was a strong 130+ beats per minute, and looked and sounded perfect. We got to see the wee hands & feet and they pointed out the stomach & face to us, before getting down to business. The baby is head down, which explains why I feel all the kicks at the top of my uterus, and in order to get the scan they needed I ended up having to lay on my left side, facing away from the ultrasound screen. TORTURE FOR ME. I wanted to see! Thankfully, Dave was there so he got to watch, and he had a huuuuuge grin on his face the whole time.

So the baby looks great, although I still have to go for 2 more fetal EKGs at 24 and 28 weeks just to be on the safe side. YAY! No pictures to share, but we have our standard 21 week ultrasound in a few weeks with our regular OBGYN and I'll get some then.

Holy shiz, I AM pregnant.

Left side: 14.5 weeks, around 4/28/11.
Right side: 17.5 weeks, taken today 5/19/11.

Oh wow.

Have a heart(beat)

I had my 16 week prenatal checkup yesterday - standard weight (still losing weight a little bit, but the doctor says that's fine given my size), blood draws, leave a 'sample' in the bathroom, etc. Nothing I haven't done before a frajillion times since finding out I was pregnant.

But.

This week... The doctor busted out the doppler and I got to hear the baby's heartbeat. I've been feeling it move more some days and less others, so I knew it was doing fine, but it was still a wonderful confirmation that our child is alive and thriving in there. It took him a minute to find the heartbeat (a minute in which my own heart stopped), but then I heard this rapid "wompwompwompwompwomp," and he smiled and said, in his Israeli accent, "Perrrfekt." I grinned like the village idiot.

Part of me wants this baby to stay in there, warm and safe, as long as it needs to. The rest of me is so excited for October to get here, so we can meet this sweet little baby and finally hold them. Patience is a virtue, patience is a virtue, patience is a virtue....

Random Thoughts

I don't have a specific direction for this post... And there's a lot going through my mind, so I'll just do things in point form.

1. The baby kicks a LOT lately, usually in the upper left-hand corner of my womb. I joked to a friend that Shim had set up a "Boom Boom Room" in that corner, with comfy couches, a disco ball, a bartender, and snacks - why would they want to leave? It's like being tickled from the inside, and I love it. Once the kid is strong enough to really whomp me and do the tarantella on my bladder, it may not be so fun, but right now it's amazing.

2. Naming someone is HARD. We've established some rules: No exes, nothing that could be shortened to a totally terrible nickname, no initials that spell naughty words/abbreviations, etc. We had a boy name and a girl name picked out for a couple years before we ever started trying, but once I got pregnant I decided I wanted to have a few options in case the kid came out and the name we'd chosen didn't feel right.

I poke you, I poke you, I poke you!

(If you haven't seen The Impostors, go do so. Please.)

Shim is certainly a cheeky little pugilist/gymnast/soccer player/swimmer the last couple days... Anytime I'm sitting still or lying down for more than a few minutes at a time, I get little pokes and flutters as if to say, "Hey, I like it when you're moving, it's very soothing!" or, "I'm he-eeeeere!"

Last night, I was hanging out on the couch with Dave and he put his hand on my belly and said, "Hello, child." And the baby kicked his hand - well, I could feel it, he couldn't, but still. Shim knows their Daddy!

Poke, poke, poke.