Here we are, less than 30 days til the due date. Now for the waiting...

Like Turkeys, Like Babies

We had Thanksgiving plans...we've had them for awhile. My husband was going to travel to Maryland to have dinner with his family, and I, who cannot go more than about 30 minutes without having to dash off to find a bathroom due to being rather huge at the moment, was going to stay here in Newport News with my parents for the traditional dinner. This had all been hammered out weeks beforehand, and was well under control.

THEN...

I went out to lunch with my mom yesterday, and when we got back, there was a phone message waiting from my aunt. It seems my grandparents down in Florida (my mom's parents) BOTH took a tumble yesterday (Grandma went first, Grandpa tried to help her, and then he heard something crack). SO, my grandfather is in the ER, which is bad because he was Grandma's primary care giver (and she cannot see, can barely hear, and cannot walk). Two little old ladies who live next door are taking care of my Grandma for the night until my parents could get down to Florida, which they are in the midst of doing right now, since I think they were leaving around 7 AM.

I was there for all the drama yesterday as my mom tried to figure out what they were going to do, and once the decision was made to drive to FL, I took my parents' dog home with me since he would need a place to stay. I let Aaron know that all this was happening, and was fully prepared to do Thanksgiving on my own (well, me and two dogs), because sometimes bad luck just happens (it didn't mean the hormones wouldn't have made me cry about it, because they make me cry about a lot, but I would have dealt).

BUT, Aaron firmly declared that he certainly would NOT leave me home, alone, on a major holiday, which also happens to be our anniversary, while I am vastly pregnant. He called his mom right away, and before I could even tell him that I would be fine if he went up anyway, he was staying.

The interesting part of all of this is that my parents had an entire Thanksgiving meal ready to go. The turkey was thawed, and they had all the fixin's. So, along with a dog, I went home with a 15 pound turkey, potatoes, and broccoli. My eyes got a little big as my father loaded the turkey into a "keep cool" bag, and I told him, "But, but, I don't know HOW to make a turkey." His reply, "Yeah, but you know how to Google."

So Google I did, and I THINK I know what I'm doing now, and Aaron seems to think that I'll be just fine making this gigantic bird and not killing us all with salmonella poisoining. Of course, I don't really understand why I am making the turkey, since he has cooked whole turkeys in the past and I am a turkey-virgin (granted, he cooked his outside in a pit ala colonial style, but STILL, that's more than I have done).

I suppose that since I think I am ready to be a mom, I should be ready to embrace all the trappings of adulthood. I figured out how to buy my first car this year; I suppose I can figure out how to cook a turkey. The only thing that is bugging me about the bird is the timing. I think I have all the basics of preparation down, but all the websites are a little vague on the amount of time needed for the bird, and say that it just depends on the oven temperature, elevation, the retrograde of Mercury, etc..

Ironically, this is the only thing that bugs me about giving birth, too. I've taken the classes, so I understand basically what will be happening. Aaron and I have discussed plans with my parents, so we know who is coming to the hospital, who is watching the dog, etc.. I've talked with people and read internet sites, so I know what to put in the hospital bags and they have already been packed. The nursery, though not fully decorated, is functional and could safely house a baby starting any minute. The only thing that I haven't nailed down, that I just can't plan, is the WHEN for the baby. Being a slight (ahem) control freak, it really gets my goat that I don't have a specific day and time to have this child. I have been talking to the fetus, and trying to convince him/her of a specific day/time that we want to go, which my husband (and everyone else, though they are too polite to say) thinks is ludicrous, but what else am I supposed to do? Sit around and let nature take its course? What does nature know about my schedule?

Sigh.

Anyway, I am attempting to convince myself that giving birth will happen when it happens, and that I cannot control every facet of the pregnancy (nor probably of raising a child, either, but let's not get ahead of ourselves and blow my mind entirely). It's just kind of frustrating knowing that I am 35 weeks along, so the baby will probably come 3-7 weeks from now. That seems like a rather large margin of error, but c'est la vie, and all that.

(At least with a turkey, you can pop a thermometer in there to tell when it's done.)

Hair!

Did you know that they can see the baby's hair on an ultrasound? Neither did I. But you can, and I did. It looks fuzzy, that's how it looks. Like this fuzzy stuff on one side of the baby's head.

And one side of the head was all that we could see, because kiddo is burrowed into my pelvis. The ultrasound technician nearly broke my pelvic bone (okay, that might be a slight exaggeration) trying to get the head measurements, because the child is hiding/trying to come out/digging for China/who the heck knows. I've been carrying this kid low the entire time, but apparently now we've reached a new level of low. Of course, the baby still tries to stick its little feetses up into my rib cage, because there just isn't enough room, mommy! I attempt to explain that there's nothing I can do about that, please get your feet off of my lungs, but you know how they are when they're this age...

Other interesting facts from the ultrasound:

--the baby currently weighs approximately 5 pounds, 6 oz.
--the baby is only 77% for size now!

Seventy-seventh percentile is something I can live with (when it comes to baby sizes, I mean). 77% is just over 8 pounds for newborns, and I feel like this is a very acceptable size, unlike what you get at the 94th percentile (we must have hit him in a growth-spurt during my last ultrasound). So, I am not having the Loch Ness monster for a baby anymore, nor even a moose, but just a...baby. A baby with beautiful hair, shining, gleaming, streaming, flaxen, waxen...hair. (Now the only question is: will the hair stay on like it did for kiddo's mommy, or fall out after birth like daddy's?)

Oooooo, dear...

Okay, it's not just tiredness. It's the stomach flu. Thank you, Aaron, for bringing this home yesterday.

Do you know what is very fun (or completely not, as the case may be)? It is "very fun" to have an upset tummy AND a baby kicking your stomach at the same time! It is many thrills!

I have left work early today so that I can lie around in nauseated pain. I am going to go do that now.

The Pain and the Tiredness

Oh, this is a rough morning. Thursdays are, nowadays, because we have Childbirth Prep classes on Wednesdays. The classes last from 7-9PM, which means that the earliest I get home and in bed is 9:45, which is like, so an hour and a half past my bedtime. I can't really sleep in, either, because my stomach and the baby in my tummy are set to a internal clock of about 5:30. It makes for some VERY sleepy Thursdays.

Anyhoo, childbirth classes are going well. We are learning all about the gross and disgusting stuff (or, "the perfectly natural stuff," as Aaron, who I think is deluding himself, says) that comes out after the baby. Fun! We are also learning some breathing techniques to help get through the contractions. It's interesting enough. I don't know...maybe I should be more worried, but as a girl who has had gallstones, kidneystones, and migraines, I've been through my share of pain. It turns out that I used Lamaze breathing through most of those, without actually ever having taken Lamaze.

We did an exercise last night where Aaron had to pinch the underside of my arm for about a minute to simulate a contraction while I did the breathing. Afterwards, I yelled at him for being too soft on me and not squeezing hard enough. I mean, it didn't hurt at all. Then, when I was NOT doing my breathing, he showed me exactly how hard he had been squeezing, and holy cow--it really hurt!

This is not to say that I have a high pain tolerance, because I DO NOT. I hate pain, even the littlest bit, and I am generally good about letting people know when the least little thing hurts. Because I hate pain so much, on those big pain things--like gallstones or kidneystones--I learned early that the more you think about it, the worse it hurts, so it's better to just concentrate on something rhythmic (like breathing) and stay calm.

Anyway, I suppose that all my practice with pain is good because I don't respond well to pain medications. I fight tranquilizers and sedatives (when I was getting my wisdom teeth out, the doctor said, "You'll never remember any of this," so in my stupidly sleepy state, I stayed awake through the ENTIRE thing just to prove him wrong, and could actually feel him taking out some of the teeth, but was too tranquilized to say anything about it). Almost all narcotics make me sick (either I throw up, break out in an itchy rash, or my blood pressure drops precipitously). So, that leaves us with, what? An epidural? Well, it's a possibility. I'm going to see if the super-breathing can work, but I'm not going to insist on an all-natural delivery just to satisfy some deep-seated need to prove how tough I really am (answer: I am not tough. At all).

The other lovely thing that has happened since our last post was my first baby shower! Hooray, baby showers! We actually have stuff! For the baby! Granted, none of this stuff is out of the boxes; all the clothes are heaped in a gigantic pile that I keep threatening to wash one day (don't worry--so far the clothes are safe because I am too sleepy all the time); and we still don't have our dresser that we ordered weeks ago (now they say it will come in sometime next week. I am wondering which will get here first...the dresser or the baby).

Regardless of our sloth at putting things away, thank you so much to Aaron's entire family for making sure that our little one will 1) be able to sleep downstairs, too, in a Pack n' Play; 2) be able to leave the house since we now have a beautiful new travel system; 3) not be traumatized by the smell of its own dirty diapers thanks to our new Diaper Genie, and many other wonderful gifts that I know are going to help out a lot. You guys are the greatest!

My many pregnancy chins and I open presents at the Wolfe/Meredith Family baby shower

Several generations of Aaron's family were in attendance.