The birth of Max James

I got up at 5am Wednesday morning after a night of tossing and turning.  By six I started having fairly strong contractions about 10 minutes apart.  I called labor and delivery at 7am as I was supposed to to confirm my induction was still on and what time to be in.  They told me I could come in at 8. 

By the time my mom came to pick Alex up at 7:45 my contractions were five minutes apart and strong, I'd lost my mucous plug and I was beginning to realize that I was in labor.  At the hospital, they checked me and confirmed that I was dilated to 4 centimeters and the monitors were picking up my contractions.  We asked the nurses if I even needed to get the Pitocin, to which the nurse asked us "How long do you want to be here?"  "hook me up" I responded.  They assured me they'd only give me a small amount.  Soon my doctor came in and broke my water and announced I was at five centimeters already and I should get an epidural.  I didn't feel like I needed an epidural yet, so I told them to wait.  "Do you want to go natural?" the nurse asked me.  "I don't know" I responded.  "I'd like to, but I don't want to commit"  "Ok, just yell when you want one."

My contractions kept coming, stronger and closer together and at about 10:00, the nurse came in to check me.  I'd been handling them just fine by doing deep breathing, but when she lowered the bed putting me flat on my back I freaked out.  She waited through the contraction I was having and told me to breathe and turn on my side, but all I could manage doing was crying "oh GOD! OH GOD! I can't do this! I don't want to be on my back! I don't want to be on my back!!"  She checked me and I was at six centimeters.  She raised the bed again and I went back to sitting completely upright with my knees bent, bottoms of my feet pressed together.  After the nurse left, I had another contraction and I had a real hard time staying in control.  I told John I was having trouble relaxing through them like I was supposed to.  "Is that what you're supposed to do?"  He asked.  "I don't know!  Isn't it?" I responded "I'll check the book"  He got out our copy of Husband Coached Childbirth.  The book he got back in December and never finished reading the last half.  He frantically searched through the book for adivce on how to handle active labor "Are you in first stage or second stage?" he asked me "I DON'T KNOW!!!!!"  I growled  "Why are we so unprepared?"  "Aaggghhh!  Here's another one, what do I do? WHAT DO I DO??"  John started reading aloud something about deep beathing and pelvic rocking, "Shhh!  Don't talk to me"  I told John and somehow was able to get back into control and got through the contraction with minimal freaking out.

Once I was back in control of my breathing, I was able to handle the stronger contractions.  I still don't know what had happened when I was on my back, but I quickly developed a fear of being on my back and made John promise I wouldn't have to lay on my back ever again.  I also began obsessing about the fact that I hadn't pooped yet that morning.  I was sure I'd poop when I had the baby.  I asked John if he'd still love me if he saw me poop on our baby.  He assured me that he would.  It seemed every contraction for the next half hour I'd cry "I'm going to poop!".

Contractions got stronger and stronger and John offered to rub my back through them.  I thought that sounded nice, but the first time he tried I screamed "DON'T TOUCH ME!".  Somehow we figured out what I needed.  As soon as a contraction started I would squeeze John's hand and he'd stand up and hug me.  I'd try to breathe through the contraction as best I could while practically ripping his shrit sleeve off at the same time.  Soon breathing through the contractions turned to moaning through the contractions and we managed with a combination of the hugging thing with me also biting John's shoulder, which I'm sure felt just lovely, to me finding a "focal point", which happened to be the keyhole on the cabinet across the room while I tried not to howl in pain.  I wasn't breathing very effectively by now and my whole body was buzzing like there was an electrical current going through me.  For some reason this is what I complained about the most.  The contractions were so intense, but all I could do was complain about my legs, they're buzzing!

The nurse came in again and wanted to check me and I outright refused to lay on my back.  She did manage to get me to allow her to lay the bed back enough for her to check and find that I was eight centimeters.  It had to be about 11:30 by now, I have no idea.  She asked me if I felt a lot of pressure, and I did.  The doctor came in to see how I was doing and predicted I'd have a baby in about a half hour.

The nurse stayed with me for the rest of the labor and delivery, she had me look at my focal point or look at her and do the "hee hee hoo" breathing.  I didn't want to hee hee hoo.  I wanted to go home.  I wanted to get up and go home and I told her so.  John told me I couldn't go home, I was having a baby.  I told him that this baby having business is just stupid.  What did I think I was doing not getting an epidural.  He told me how proud of me he was.  I told him going natural was stupid, stupid, stupid.  He tried to remind me that I wanted to go natural.  I told him I didn't think I even wanted to have a baby anymore.  The nurse asked if I wanted some pain medication in my IV.  I asked her if it would make me loopy.  She said it would.  Knowing I was barely keeping it together sober, I declined the pain relief.  I still thought natural childbirth was stupid.

Suddenly Max was ready to come out.  I could feel him coming out.  I started screaming that "HE'S COMING OUT! HE'S COMING OUT!"  The doctor came in and checked me and announced that I was a 9+ and I could start pushing.  They laid the bed back down and I began howling that I didn't want to lay down!  Please don't make me lay down!  The doctor said if I didn't lay down the baby would come out on the bed instead of into his hands, which I thought would be just fine.  They made me lay down anyway.  The rest of the birth I just remember feeling as though I was being ripped in half from the inside out.  I don't know if I really pushed or not.  It seemed to me that Max was coming out whether I helped him by pushing or not.  I know I screamed because the nurse and the doctor both yelled back at me to stop screaming and to push.  It was very different from Alex's birth.  It seemed Alex came out in sections.  First his head, his shoulders, then the rest of him.  Max seemed to just come out in one big lump.  Somewhere above my head I heard John say "We had a baby!"  I think I was still screaming.  Max was born at 12:13 in the afternoon.

I remember someone asking John to cut the cord.  I still hadn't looked at our baby, I was laying on my back with my head and neck arched and I was wimpering because it was still hurting.  John followed the baby to the warming table to take pictures of him and the doctor told me if I gave one good push the placenta would come out and it would all be over.  I did and what a relief it was.  The pain stopped instantly.  I looked over and saw Max, and he was huge.  Big and healthy and crying. 

I apologized to the doctor for all the screaming and he said I did great and that he would have screamed even louder.  The doctor stitched up the tear, and John took a picture of me.  FInally someone handed Max to me and John kissed me and said "My wife is quite the bad ass!"  Another nurse poked her head into the room and said "I heard you have your baby!" and it occurred to me that I probably screamed so loud the enitre hospital heard me have my baby.

John asked me later if it was worth it.  If I regretted not getting the epidural.  I think in the midst of it, I deeply, desperately regretted not getting it, but now that it's over, I really feel like it was the right thing to do.  By the time I felt I needed the epidural, I was 45 minutes away from having the baby.  It would have been too late to get one anyway.  I'd have had to get it much earlier, and I really didn't feel like I needed pain relief at that point. John was a great partner and I know I couldn't have done it without him.  Having John by my side and his being an active participant in the birth was better than an epidural.  And, as painful as it was, it was also an amazing experience and I'm very glad I was able to do it.  We're done having babies, John will likely get "the snip" here pretty soon, but if we weren't, if I ever did get pregnant again, I'd definately do it the same way. 

My guys

Home again, home again, Jiggedy Jog

We came home from the hospital with a "wireless" Max yesterday evening.  The doctor had wanted to send him home on oxygen because his o2 saturation would go down whenever he nursed.  I met with a couple of lactation consultants and we figured out what the problem was, apparently I'm a milk producing machine and Max simply can't keep up with the flow causing him to constantly swallow and not have a chance to catch his breath, they gave me some good tips and I was able to successfully prove to the doctor that we could keep his saturation up during feedings.

We picked Alex up on the way home, our neighbor brought us dinner and we spent the evening downstairs watching TV and cuddling together.  All week I'd been looking forward to just a normal evening with my family, and I've got to tell you, it felt even better than I'd anticipated.  It was hard to believe we'd actually been through all of that. 

John and I took turns staying up with Max.  He seems to want to eat every hour all night long and he's not thrilled at all to sleep in his own bed.  So I'd stay up for a couple of feedings then wake John up who would hold him until he got hungry again and then wake me up to feed him.  Then Alex woke up with a bad dream and needed to sleep with us.  At about 3 AM, I simply couldn't keep my eyes open so I put Max into bed with me, Alex and John and all four of us were able to get a couple of hours of sleep. 

Today has been spent doing such exciting activities as baths for the boys, diaper changes, nursing, dishes...It's amazing what a little perspective can do.  Before all of this happened, I don't think I'd have been able to appreciate the minutiae of life but I can truthfully say that today has been just as exciting and wonderful as a week ago, the day Max was born.  Last night Max was fussing (well, he's still recovering his voice, so he sounds more like a squeak toy than a baby crying) about being alone in his cradle and I was trying to shush him "Daddy is trying to sleep" I told Max.  Then I hear John whisper, "It's music to my ears".

We feel so lucky to be able to have come home with a healthy baby.  Things could have gone differently.  I can't even think about it.  Max is strong, and healthy, and ours.  We are so happy.

The man blog is back

John's blogging hiatus is over. See his new blog at http://jmelee.typepad.com/the_dillier_man_blog/

Testing

The EEG test was this morning and went smoothly.  We went in, they stuck electrodes to Max's head, then turned out the lights and all three of us took a nap.  They came back and woke us up an hour later flashed some lights in Max's face then sent us back to our room.  Easy peasy.

When they got Max ready for his MRI, the nurse put him on an IV because, since he couldn't eat (due to the fact they were planning to sedate him for the procedure), he needed extra fluids.  Both John and I immediately got up and inspected the IV bag.  I suspect we'll never fully trust an IV bag again.

When they took us down to sedation, John and I practically had a brawl with the staff there because we wanted them to at least TRY to do the test without drugging him.  We'd spent the entire day keeping Max awake so that he'd hopefully stay asleep for the test.  They couldn't understand why we were making such a stink about it.  They do this all the time, they assured us.  It's no big deal.  He'll be awake in a couple of hours they said.  It wasn't until we told them "But do you know what this baby has been through?" and explained our story that they agreed to give it a go, and we agreed that if it didn't work they could sedate him, but only after they assured us they triple check dosage and drug type and they would only give him the minimum amount he would need.

They set him all up for the MRI, but the machine was too loud and though I think he stayed asleep, the noise scared him enough to really wiggle around causing the picture to be blurry.  They ended up sedating him, but thankfully only needed a half dose of the drug because he was already so sleepy.  It took him several hours to wake up to the point he could nurse, and because he was so hungry and sleepy he forgot to breathe causing his monitors to go crazy.  This freaked me out completely and after the third try, we gave up and put him back on oxygen so he could eat, which he did with gusto then promptly fell asleep again. 

The MRI results came back fast showing no abnormalities.  Naturally we're thrilled to get that news.  The EEG tests came back showing what the neurologist referred to as "little peaks".  From what I understood what she saw was only slightly unusual, and we will followup with another EEG and see the neurologist in August.  Until then, we just need to watch Max closely for signs of seizure, though she doesn't think it will be a problem, in fact, she doesn't feel he needs to be on anti-seizure meds at this point.

The pediatrician came in and told us that if Max could get back to eating well and staying off of oxygen, we could all go home tomorrow.  As of right now he's on room air but needs oxygen when he nurses.  We've got all night to work on it, so I'm hoping by the time the pediatrician comes by on rounds he'll be off the nasal cannula and eating normally.

All in all, a good day I think.

A real baby

This morning we met with two pediatricians who were concerned that Max was still acting like a lifeless ragdoll.  He hadn't cried since we'd been here, he didn't act hungry, he slept all the time...  The pediatricians met with the neurologists and decided to go ahead and order the MRI and EEG tests for Monday (technically today since it's 1:30 Monday morning as I type this), but as the day wore on, Max got more and more baby like.  He began fussing when he was hungry.  He tried to cry when they gave him a bath, though he's still struggling to get his voice back from having been intubated on Thursday.  He's nursing like a champ, better than his brother ever did at this age and he's having longer and longer periods of time being alert.  He's pooping and peeing and basically acting like a normal five day old baby.

Both nurses we've had today are optimistic we can go home very soon (Monday or Tuesday) if we can just get his breathing under control without oxygen.  So tonight we're going to try to wean him off of his nasal tube back to room air again.  If that can be done, there's no reason for us to be here anymore.

As for the tests, I'm hoping the doctors will come see Max on their rounds before the tests because I'd really like to put off the MRI.  I don't mind getting the EEG because it seems pretty easy on Max, but he'd have to be sedated for the MRI, and I feel like we've just got him back, I don't want to loose our momentum!  I'd like to wait a couple of weeks and see if we even need to do one then.

In other news, it seems like our baby is the most popular baby in the hospital.  Whoever meets him develops an instant attachment to him and they come by to check on him.  His doctors and nurses from the NICU, the Life Flight crew, my OB's nurse... It seems everyone who has heard what happened to him is pulling for him to make a speedy recovery.

A big step in the right direction

Max was moved out of the NICU yesterday evening.  He was also taken off all of his medications and allowed to eat.  FINALLY.  As his mother, it's been so hard to not steal him away and feed him a twinkie or something.  Kid hasn't eaten since the day he was born.  He's wasting away people!  Of course, feeding him hasn't been an option until now, so when his doctor told us we could start, I did a dorky little happy dance right there in the middle of the NICU.

We mistakenly thought that having Max in the infant care unit where we could stay with him in his room all night would be easier on us than having him in the NICU.  What we didn't realize was that being in the room with him meant being in the room with his monitors and the nurses and doctors coming in and out and how scary that is in the middle of the night.  We had a little setback last night, they really amped up his feeding schedule and Max didn't tolerate it very well.  Every time he'd eat (through bottle and tube, breastfeeding wasn't working and it was just stressing us both out so I gave up for the night.  May try again today) his breathing would get real fast and his o2 levels would go down.  They put him back on a nasal tube which helped.  Of course this was terrifying to John and me because that's where this whole story began.  Max's breathing too fast.  I dealt with it by having a complete breakdown and formulating elaborate escape plans.  I would go home. Just leave, pick Alex up from my mom's house and go home pretending none of this was happening.  I want to go home.  John's started to get pissed off about the whole ordeal.  Up until now we've both been sad and confused, but not really mad.  Now, John's mad.

Then something good happened.  Max woke up.  He's been asleep for days, only occasionally peeking an eye out to look around.  Last night he was wide eyed for what seemed like at least an hour or two. Maybe three.  I have no sense of time anymore.  This morning's feeding was cut in half (from 2oz to 1 oz) and he tolerated it very well. 

I put aside my escape plan and instead of breaking out of the hospital and running away, I took a walk down to the computers and read some emails and comments on mine and Jen's blogs and it's given me new strength.  Thank you everyone who is thinking of us and supporting us.  We really appreciate all of your thoughts.  When we've got nothing left, it helps to have some backup out there!

Feelings

I don't have the energy to write out all that has happened since Wednesday.  I will, hopefully soon, record the entire experience with possibly way too much detail, but for now, thankfully Grandma Jen has been recording events on her blog, so I will point you in that direction to fill you in on things up until now.  http://grandmajenandgrandpajoe.blogspot.com/

Go ahead and read up, I'll wait...

I find the best way I'm able to cope with this situation is to live completely in the now.  Even looking back to Max's birth, which was better than I had ever planned or hoped for, makes me sad because all I can think about is, how could we be HERE after that?  When I realize the answer: SOMEONE ELSE'S MISTAKE.  Someone who was supposed to be protecting and caring for my son.  Making him healthy, not almost killing him.  This shouldn't have happened.  This can't have happened.  I just sink into those negative feelings.  I'm mad. I'm confused. I'm upset. I'm disappointed. I'm feeling a million different emotions I don't even have names for, but none of them good.  However, if I let go of that, for now.  If I just accept that we are here.  This horrible thing did happen.  But look how he's improved! He's alive!  He's breathing on his own!  I can hold him! He's off most of his medications now!  He is in the best Children's Hospital in the country and he's receiving care from top notch doctors and nurses and specialists!  When I focus on that, I am able to hold my son in my arms and be the best mom I can be to him.  I'm no good to Max if I'm angry or sobbing uncontrollably.  If I can keep positive, as cheesy as it may sound, I feel like I can somehow infuse him with my positive energy, help him keep fighting and keep improving.  I don't know.  It's just my way of coping.

Strangley, or perhaps not, the hardest thing for me at the moment is missing my Alex.  Feeling like I've abandoned him.  Max needs me here with him, so I am, but I need Alex.  He's with my mom and having a ball at Grandma Babs' Hotel and Resort complete with not one but TWO puppies.  She's been bringing him to see me every day and I'm calling at least twice a day to try to talk to him (he hates the phone though).  These feelings aren't productive, but I find these are the ones I'm having a harder time putting aside for the greater good.

Today's the day!

We're leaving to go to the hospital to get labor induced in an hour!  I've, of course, been up since 5AM  after not being able to sleep all night.  Could you sleep if you knew you were going to have a baby the next day??

Ironically, I think I may be in early labor this morning already.  We shall see!

Well, it's somebody's birthday anyway

Still no damned baby, and I gotta tell ya, I'm starting to loose it.  I don't know how women DO this.  I know some women go over their due dates by WEEKS, and how they don't just go straight to crazy town is beyond me.  I spent yesterday an emotional mess.  I cried about everything.  I went to get frosty's at Wendy's, brought them downstairs and then sobbed about how I had "NO SPOONS!  THERE ARE NO SPOONS!  OH GOD, IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD!  HOW WILL WE EVER EAT THESE FROSTYS WITHOUT SPOONS??? WAHHH"  When John was able to go to a drawer and produce a plastic spoon for me, it just caused me to cry even more because I was so glad he had a spoon and no one had to go all the way upstairs for a spoon because that would have been awful.  AWFUL!  There was also the great cracker breakdown where I cried and cried because there were smooshed crackers all over the floor and now I have to vacuum.  And woe!  I don't WANT to vacuum!  Why oh why would someone smoosh crackers on the floor?!?!  WHY DO THESE HORRIBLE THINGS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?

Ok, so maybe I'm not starting to loose it, there seems to be sufficient evidence to suggest that my sanity is already long gone.

Today is John's 31st birthday.  My goal for the day is to not drive him crazy.  Sadly, we didn't plan anything for his birthday, not knowing if we'd have a baby yet or not, so John will probably spend the day in his underwear playing video games, which, really, is probably what he'd rather do anyway.

My plan is to stay focused on the fact that tomorrow is the day.  I'll keep myself busy doing laundry, packing more hospital bags (we'll be in the hospital for the entire labor, so I want to put together a bag of activities to do, board games, DVD's, books...), packing Alex's suitcase for his stay at Grandma Babs' house, maybe install the baby's carseat in the van... just keep myself busy so I stay out of John's hair and don't drive him nuts by being an emotional wreck.

Due date

No baby yet.

I really don't want to talk about it.

Baby Daddy

There is no other man I'd rather be with on this parenting journey than John.  He may refuse to change diapers, he may think a fun afternoon with his son is having Alex watch him play Mario Kart, he may not view my being pregnant as the miraculous event it is (nor worship me accordingly), but I can't, for a single second, accuse this man of not being an excellent father.  He loves Alex with every fiber of his being.  He works harder than anyone I know to provide for our family and allow me to stay home to raise our boys.  He is visibly proud of his son, his home, his family.

I thought I loved John as much as it was possible to love someone.  And then we had Alex:

Watching John grow into his role as Alex's dad has made me fall completely in love with him all over again.  

I couldn't be happier that we have sons.  I would be proud for them to grow up to be just like John.

Happy Father's Day Honey!

Going all in

I'm going to give it one last valiant effort to go into labor before I get induced.  This weekend, I plan to do the following:

• Go for several walks


• Walk up and down our stairs as often as possible


• Eat an entire pineapple


• Eat spicy food


• I downloaded and read this ebook last night and have been poking myself bruisy trying to do acupressure on myself.  I will continue to do this for the duration of the weekend.


• Nipple stimulation with the help of John, which will undoubtedly lead to...


• Sex

If this doesn't make me go into labor this weekend, I will give up and accept the fact that nothing short of a tanker full of Pitocin will cause this child to budge from his comfy womb without a view.

Chuck Norris

John managed to weasel all of his birthday and father's day presents out of me early again this year.  He does this every year, but he's been working on me since early May, and I figured that he did have a decent point, we very well could be in the hospital with a new baby on his birthday and he should get the chance to enjoy his presents before that, just in case.

One of the gifts I gave him was a book called "The Truth About Chuck Norris.  400 Facts about the world's greatest human".  John really liked the gift, but I think I may be getting the most out of it, probably because I've barely put it down to give John an opportunity to read it.  I can hardly open it up without being reduced to a hysterical laughing fit complete with tears.  John was going to take it to work today, but he's decided to leave it home so I can read the rest of it.  I have become convinced that this book could cause me to go into labor simply by laughing so hard.  Here are a couple of my favorite "facts" so far:

The origin of Chuck Norris:
Chuck Norris was born of the Greek gods Ares and Hermes in a grand session of butt sex that may never be equaled.

Chuck Norris and time management:
Chuck Norris can stop time for up to two hours by thinking about pineapples.

Chuck Norris has no concept of time; if you go to his house, you won't find a single clock.  When you ask to leave because it's getting late, he stares at you blankly until you sit back down.

Chuck Norris and foreign relations:
In Indochina, Chuck Norris's left testicle is worshiped as the god of love, whereas his right testicle is viewed as a fire-breathing demon from hell.

Chuck Norris's poop is used as currency in Argentina.

While not officially a diplomat, Chuck Norris has his own seat at the United Nations.  He walked into the building by accident in 1992 and sat down in a seat reserved for the representative from Denmark, who chose to sit cross-legged on the floor rather than risk asking him to leave.

Chuck Norris and history:
Chuck Norris once roundhouse kicked someone so hard that his foot broke the speed of light, went back in time, and killed Amelia Earhart while she was flying over the Pacific Ocean.

The book also has some illustrations, the best one I've seen so far goes along with the fact that rainbows are what happens when Chuck Norris roundhouse kicks Richard Simmons. 

What not to do

Re: bad language

When the child comes up to you and your husband and says "I want my toys DAMN IT!"  under no circumstances should you both crack up in hysterics.  Child will then joyfully say "DAMN IT!" after every single word for the rest of the night.

Re:  movies

When putting on a movie intended for family viewing, make sure you are well aware of any potential scary parts.  Just because it's an early Jim Carey movie does not make it safe.  Sure, the child sat through and thoroughly enjoyed the Transformers movie even though it was quite violent and loud, but The Mask scared the everlovingshit out of him and he wouldn't even look in the TV's direction for over an hour after it had been turned off because "THE GREEN GUY ON TV IS SCAAAAAWY!"

The simple life

My time with Alex has felt exceptionally good lately.  I've stopped taking him to activities the last week or so, I just haven't had the energy it requires to keep up with him in a public place, so I've opted to keep him home.  We've been doing a lot of movie watching (Lilo and Stitch is his new favorite), playing in the backyard and jumping on the bed. 

I've let go of my worry that I'm being a crappy SAHM and have reasoned that we're both a lot happier if I'm not stressed out.  So what if he watches too much TV for two weeks of his life?  Who cares if he wears nothing but a pull up and a dirty t-shirt during that time?  He's fed (though, I have to admit, maybe we're eating too many chocolate doughnuts), he's healthy and frankly, we're getting along fabulously these days. 

I'm much more relaxed with him than I had been and we're doing a lot of cuddling and telling stories and having tickle wars.  THIS is how I want to spend my last days of one on one time with my first son.  It doesn't matter that we're not learning about the Cretaceous period at the dinosaur museum, or learning how to milk a cow at the farm or finding out how many people weigh as much as a bull elephant at the zoo.  Sure the bush mazes at the children's gardens are fun, but only if you can keep up with your two year old in them and trust me, it's not fun to spend the next 20 minutes freaking out because he ran off ahead of you and now you're both lost.  We're making much better memories of this last bit of time as just the two of us spraying each other with a garden hose in the back yard and my helping him perfect the "Ayex Supah Dive" which involves nothing more than me laying on the bed and him leaping over me and finishing with a somersault right off the end landing on his butt on the pile of blankets on the floor.

The last OB visit (hopefully)

I saw my doctor for my very last regularly scheduled OB appointment this morning.  I didn't get to see him last week as he took a day off, so I had to see the nurse.  If you'll recall, the nurse told me last week that I was 2 cm dilated and 70% effaced.  Well, apparently, that nurse is a no-good-dirty-rotten-liar because what she wrote in my chart was 1.5 cm dilated and 60% effaced.  So when my doctor checked me this morning and declared that I'd made progress and was now 2 cm dilated and 60% effaced, I was understandably confused because that didn't sound like progress at all.  In fact, that sounded more like my cervix was getting THICKER instead of thinner.  I was going backwards now?  What kind of sick and twisted hell am I living in that such things can happen at almost 40 weeks pregnant?  He assured me that I wasn't going backwards, that I probably misunderstood what she'd told me.  After fuming about it for a minute, I did recall that she in fact had told me that I was "Almost 2 cm and 60-70% effaced".  Even so, I will still be giving her the stink eye if I happen to ever see her again.

We discussed my options and he told me I could safely and effectively be induced any time I wanted to (again hearing something different than what Nursezilla told me last week that I couldn't be induced until I got to 3 cm).  It took every single ounce of self control I had to not run right down to labor and delivery that second to present them a vein and have them pump me full of Pitocin.  I am so proud of myself for keeping my head on and told the doctor the plan I'd already formulated in my head that I knew I was comfortable with.  I want to give baby brother the opportunity to be born on his due date of the 16th (just like Alex was born on his due date).  The 17th is John's birthday and if I haven't had the baby by then, I want John to be able to celebrate his birthday.  So I scheduled an induction for June 18th.  By then I'll be officially overdue and I think I can stand one more week of pregnancy without going completely insane.  I also feel comfortable that the baby will be ready because I'd given him every opportunity to come on his own, which is something I worried about when I'd thought about inducing early.

At this point the doctor totally made my day.  He told me he had "a feeling" I wouldn't make it to the 18th.  That I would probably go into labor this week or weekend on my own.  Now, the doctor having "a feeling" isn't exactly hard science, and he very well could just be saying that to keep me from wallowing in my own pregnant self pity for the next week, but it still made me happy.

So, the good news is baby brother is healthy and apparently very happy in my womb and will very likely be born in the next few days.  More good news is that whether baby brother gets with the program and makes a speedy exit or decides to be difficult and stick around until he's forcibly removed, I will have a baby in my arms within a week.  The bad news is I have nothing to occupy my time for the next week.  I'm completely ready for the baby, the house is as clean as it'll ever be...So all I can do is twiddle my thumbs until something exciting happens.

Hobbled

I'm starting to feel like I've stepped into a time machine and am catching a glimpse of John and me 50 years from now.  I've already been shuffling around like an elderly woman for weeks now, and now John is following suit.  Sunday, John got some kind of fatherly nesting bug and overdid it on yard work, managing to re-hurt a recently healed injury.  He only just stopped limping around the house and now he's worse than he was before.  He's in so much pain he has to work from home today because the only time he's not in pain is while laying down.  So now we're both practically bed ridden, grunting and groaning with every move we make.  It's pretty pathetic that with both of us at home today, I STILL had to call in reinforcements in the form of my mother to help watch Alex.  She's in her 50's and more spry than either of us.

We both have doctor appointments tomorrow morning.  Hopefully at least one of us will be feeling better shortly.

Sans Funky Bunch

John doesn't think I'm funny.  I think it's because John's humor seems to center around fart and penis jokes while my humor is more snark than funny haha.  But, I try, nevertheless, to get him to laugh, almost always unsucessfully.  Case in point, I was getting after him about not answering his mobile phone during the day, seeing as I'm about to birth his child any minute now, he should answer every single one of my calls.  "I have to set it on silent during meetings and sometimes I can't feel the vibration"  He tells me.

"You need to feel the vibration" I tell him
he looks at me
"Come on, come on"
He narrows his eyes
"Feel it, feel it"
I can tell he's about to crack a smile any second now
"Feel the vibration!"
He chuckles.  Clearly a sympathy laugh.
"It's such a good vibration."
He doesn't laugh again, but that doesn't stop me
"It's such a sweet sensation?"
Silence. 

So, ok, Marky Mark I am not, but as my husband, I think he should give me more than a sympathy chuckle for that effort.

No baby, yet.

I have to admit, since early in this pregnancy, I've had my heart set on having the baby the first week of June.  For no real good reason I could think of, other than it would be sooner than the 16th of June.  Well, here we are at the tail end of Saturday with no baby.  I did have some promising contractions this afternoon, but, it turned out I just had to go to the bathroom. The spicy fries I had for lunch didn't agree with me apparently.  Oh well, better luck next week I guess!

Taking any progress I can at this point

Ah, the weekly cervix update.  You were on the edge of your seats waiting for it weren't you?  Well, wait no more, I actually have news this week!  Yes!  That's right!  PROGRESS!  I am almost 2 cm dilated and 70% effaced.  Wow. 

Ok, so it's not like he's just going to fall out of me any second, but after three weeks of 1 cm and 50% effaced, I'm taking any progress I can get.  Since I'm progressing at a snail's pace, the consensus was that I should hold off on having labor induced on Monday.  It seems that unless I can get to 3cm on my own, induction may not be successful.  The nurse told me this very delicately, possibly assuming I'd have some kind of emotional breakdown.  Luckily, I'd already decided I didn't want to be induced Monday anyway.

So, we continue to wait.  I've got another appointment on Wed that I'm hoping will reveal even more progress.  The ultrasound due date is next Friday (the 13th!), so with any luck I'll have him next week!  I hope.

After Alex poops in the potty, he likes to bid his turds adieu while they get flushed by waving at the bowl and saying "Bye bye poo poos, have a good day!" 

John and I were at Barnes and Noble last night and a woman came by and gave us free drink samples from their cafe.  I tasted it and made a comment that it tasted just as good as the strawberry frappaccino at Starbucks.  John simply took my cup and lifted it up to my eyes so I could see the logo:  Starbucks.  Well, that explains it.

Back on the potty wagon...kind of

Just as Alex suddenly un potty trained himself a few months ago, he has recently decided to pick up where he left off.  He is now using the potty a couple of times a day and it's all his idea.  This would be great news if it were April or even August, but I'm weeks/days/hours away from giving birth and I know once this baby is born I won't have the time to be diligent about taking Alex to the potty every two hours like I'm supposed to. 

When Alex quit potty training, I just let him.  I figured at two and a half years old, and mere months away from having a new baby in the house, it wasn't worth fighting about.  So though he stayed in Pull Ups, he just ended up using them as diapers, only about once a week asking to use the potty, but those times were only to weasel a potty treat.  The last two weeks however, he's been asking to use the potty more and more and making a deposit each and every time.  

So what to do?  Clearly he's ready to potty train again.  Sadly, I'm just not up for the commitment.  Still, I'm unwilling to let go of this window of opportunity.  My plan is to take him when he asks and at other convenient times (when he wakes up in the morning, before and after naps and before bedtime).  I'm fairly certain I can keep that potty schedule up even with a brand new baby.  Once things settle into a nice routine with baby brother, I'll ramp up our efforts, taking him every two hours (or shorter intervals if necessary), and hopefully he'll still be on board.

Various baby related babble

I am going to have a baby THIS MONTH!!!  Somehow, knowing this, it's given me a second wind.  Suddenly the thought of being pregnant for another two weeks doesn't make me want to melt into a puddle of soggy tears. 

:::

I bought some baby clothes today.  This is big news because Baby Brother was going to just wear Alex's hand me downs and besides a couple of packs of plain white onesies, I hadn't gotten to do any shopping for itty bitty baby duds this time around, which was really a bummer because that's the best part isn't it?  Anyhow, I bought some super cute stuff.  A onesie with a pair of sunglasses printed on it that will go great with Alex's old black and red flame Baby Legs, a Grover onesie with little blue shorts (more like a diaper cover than shorts) and a little sleeveless outfit with whales on it that has the cutest little sailor collar (John does not like this one). 

I also did a little shopping for Alex, getting him a new swimsuit and swim shirt, a pair of Mickey Mouse flip flops and some white t-shirts that I plan to make into "I'm a BIG BROTHER" shirts.

In even cooler news, I bought myself two pairs of pants and two shirts in NON MATERNITY sizes.  Sure, they're just capri length yoga pants and t-shirts, but the point is, THEY ARE NOT MATERNITY WEAR!  YAY!  Oh, I can't wait to slip my skinny-by-comparison body into those in a couple of weeks.  And see my feet even!  Sadly, I also purchased a couple of fugly nursing bras.  They just don't make those in cute do they?

:::

I'm as ready as I'll ever be for the baby.  I've just got to shave my legs and I'm good to go!  Last time I shaved my legs WHILE IN ACTIVE LABOR.  This is not recommended.

:::

In unrelated news, the phone book is gone.  I won!  John picked it up so he could mow the lawn.  Score one for me :)