Thursday, September 15, 2011

Some Photos to Oggle!

"I'm here world!"

Close cuddles with Mommy on my first day of life!

Grandpa Rick and Killian

"I gots mah scrubs on, now let's hit the road!" This one was as we were getting ready to leave the hospital.

Finally home and snuggling with Daddy. Daddy is really good at giving Kiddo some tummy time!

Time for his first bounce, only not really. The harness goes all the way up to his armpits! LOL! We just have him swaddled and watched him closely.

"Oh, I is a precious!" This was nap time on Mom and Killian's first day alone. Notice there is no sheet in the play yard because we have been playing "Super Soaker" through the diapers.

Mom and Dad were talking here, hence the odd look on Aaron's face because he was answering me. This is the first bottle Daddy gave Killian so Momma could shower.


Last night, right before I nursed him. Bright-eyed and ready for his meal. He's a hand sucker and occasionally lucks out and finds his thumb.

"Hey World, I'm one week old today!" Right after I nursed him, he didn't want to go to sleep, so we had some chatter time in his bouncy seat.

Just too funny. It's like "Can't Touch This!"

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

He's Here!

Birth of a miracle!
No more "email" updates on this blog, because Killian Dale has entered the world. Below you will find a LOOOOONG-ish entry about his arrival. Disclaimer: on occassion, I get graphic, so avoid if you are squeamish or wish to remain blissfully unaware of how childbirth may occur. Keep in mind this is my birthing story and therefore, not everyone's will be the same. I've broken the story into parts for you. Let us begin...
Pt. 1 – In Which I Learn of Impending Motherhood…
So, I believe that I reported in my last post (sorry it was so long ago, but I’ve been busy in my new role as “mommy/cow”), that an ultrasound ordered to check Killian’s position showed low amniotic fluid and I was due to have a second ultrasound a week later. I went in for the ultrasound, thinking I’d just get to see Kiddo’s sweet face again, but that was not the case. My fluid level had dropped once again. The UT was really sweet, but she did mention that it was at the threshold where the doctors typically try to deliver. Woah! Wait a minute! He’s not due for almost 3 weeks by normal standards (since most first time moms go a bit later than their due date). So he wasn’t just full up on fluid last week and needing to pee inside me is what you’re saying. You’re telling me that I may have to go to the hospital? I’m not even really packed! I have a check to drop off at the bank! My maternity leave sub is coming in today for a second day of observing how I work with students! I’m not ready for a baby!
The UT left the room to go call the doctors and ask what their thoughts were. I called Aaron and left a voicemail letting him know what was going on, not wanting to scare him, but yeah, I was pretty worked up. The UT returned and said that she hoped I didn’t have any big plans for the day because they were about to be trumped by this new development: the doctor’s wanted to deliver! Holy CRAP! You’re kidding me right? She wasn’t kidding. I asked when I needed to go to the hospital and she said, “well now honey.” “Not even time to stop by the bank fast to drop off this check?” (Yes, I asked that.) “You can make a quick stop at home to grab a few things, but they are already expecting you.”
I walked out of her room and started crying because I was so conflicted emotionally. I’ve been waiting for this! I’m not ready! He’s not ready! He’s fine in there, kicking like he’s supposed to and pressing on my bladder, peeing inside me, etc. I’m not packed! What do I pack? How soon will he be here? The receptionists were very caring and concerned, asking if I was ok to drive and everything. I said, “Yeah, I guess I’m just going to be a Mom sooner than I thought.” They sweetly wished me luck and I got on the phone to start calling people. I started with Aaron, who picked up this time and we made a plan to meet at the house to drive together. Then I called my administrator at school, my cousin Sara, my Mom, and my Dad, leaving voicemails where necessary.
By the time I got home, I had calmed down a bit, but was obviously still nervous. I was packing things I knew I likely wouldn’t need/use, but I really was in such a state of shock that I was blindly grabbing things. Thankfully, I still had my bag packed from Steph’s wedding, which was a good place to start. Next I knew, Aaron and I were grabbing the car seat and heading out the door. We valet parked (nicety for expectant mothers at our hospital) and headed up to the third floor.
Pt. 2 – “We’re Full Up on Preggos at the Moment!”
Now, Des Moines is currently experiencing a baby boom at Mercy Hospital. When we checked in, there were no labor/delivery suites available, so I had to take a bed in maternity triage to get started with the process of induction. I had to strip down to my nuddy pants, pee in a cup (I wonder what ever happened to that because by the time I left triage, it was still sitting in the bathroom; hope no one confused it as a small glass of apple juice), and sit on an incredibly uncomfortable bed while I answered numerous health questions. Let’s also bear in mind here people that outside of the occasional visit to see someone, the only extended period of time I can recall spending in a hospital was when I was a candy-striper in 7th grade. Yep, that long ago!
Next came a nice lady to draw blood, GAG! I’m still sporting a hefty bruise from that one, but she was actually quite gentle. After the blood draw for labs and typing, Dr. Roose entered the room to talk about what was going to happen. Since my body wasn’t technically ready for Kiddo to arrive, we had to discuss how to get it ready and why. Apparently, not only was my fluid low, but my placenta was “showing signs of aging.” In other words, Big P was getting pretty tired of my being pregnant and was deciding that she may peace out a bit early. That’s not so good, so it was time to get this show on the road…as soon as there was a bed for me. I got my IV put in next, which was likely my least favorite part of this whole process. I think it sucked more than the labor pains and the epidural because I was fully aware of what was happening; at least with the other two, the pain was intense enough and I was running off so little sleep that I was slightly out-of-it. After the IV, I was graciously given an opportunity to eat. Now every class I took emphasized the importance of carbing-up for labor because it is like running a marathon. But honestly, I was so worked up that I could hardly think of attempting to eat. I ordered a breakfast combo thingy with eggs, cheese, ham, and hashbrowns all mixed together, a banana, and skim milk. Damn it! They brought me 2%, blech! While waiting for the food to arrive, Aaron uttered one of the more memorable funny comments during our hospital stay. I had monitors on to check for baby’s heart rate and contractions and Aaron mentioned that it looked like my belly had nipples because of how the monitor stuck out under my gown.
Pt. 3 – Induction 101, aka. Monitors, Monitors Everywhere
By the time I got into an LD suite (labor/delivery), it was almost noon. My ultrasound had been at 7:00am; both Aaron and I were pretty bored because nothing was happening and they wouldn’t induce me in triage. After I got into the room, they hooked me up to a contraction monitor, a heart monitor for Kiddo, a saline IV, and my first dose of meds to prevent transfer of GBS to Kiddo upon delivery. Technically, the first part of inducing me wasn’t even real induction because all it was supposed to do was “ripen” my cervix to get it ready to dilate. This process involved shoving a dry cotton ribbon “up there” so that it would get to working. The process of getting that cotton wad in was worse than my GBS culture, and you can look back a few posts to see how much I enjoyed THAT! It was like the door prize from Hell! The cervidil (cotton-wad hell) had to stay in for 12 hours and for the first 2-3, I wasn’t allowed to get up! Holy crap! How long is this going to take!
It was on cervidil that I encountered the horrible truth about these LD suites; not only does Dad have of suffer on a crappy futon, but Mom has to writhe in agony in the LD bed! Seriously, maybe 2 inches of padding on that thing and it was the kind of padding that doesn’t hold its shape well, so you’re basically laying on a sheet that is covering a metal plate! Needless to say, I did NOT enjoy the bed.
The cervidil was supposedly doing its work while I surfed through crappy TV. Aaron and I talked and we both realized that we didn’t have a baby book in which to record Killian’s foot prints! I told Aaron to go out and get one, since the boutique in the hospital was out of “little boy” baby books. Aaron also got us a few snacks, most of which I couldn’t have because I was only allowed fluids at this point. Aaron did his running and eventually came back with our book (I should start to work on that).
Now, the great part about the LD suite was actually the nurses! Every one of them (with the exception of one really) was so phenomenal and supportive. I appreciated them so much because I had to pee, a lot, and being hooked up to all the monitors, I couldn’t go by myself. They would have to come in, unhook the belly monitors (contractions and baby’s heart rate) and then help me move my IV bags or stand. Aaron’s second, perhaps most humorous comment came the first time I had to go pee. “How does it feel to be sitting on a puppy pad?” I understand why they make you sit on it, but it is slightly embarrassing to have to constantly sit on a “puppy pad” due to whatever fluids you may leak. LOL!
The first nurse I had was Kathy and she was so sweet and talkative. We actually started talking about clothing and discussed the beauty of Christopher and Banks after she learned about my weight loss prior to Kiddo. At the end of her shift, she actually came back to show me to outfit she had spoken about earlier! Since the bed hurt so much, I asked if there was something I could do about that and I was then introduced to “the chair.” Oh, I loved that chair. Interestingly, whether on cervidil or the pitocin that they started later, my contractions didn’t hurt as badly while sitting in the chair as they did while lying in bed. I even tried to sleep in that thing so that I wouldn’t have to endure the hip or back pain that lying in the bed gave me. Kathy helped me sit in the chair and get situated. Later on that night, my nurse was Doreen and she was another angel. When I decided to try to sleep in the bed, she was so wonderful. She propped pillows around me and tucked me in like I was a little kid myself. I think that’s when it may have hit me that this was really it; I don’t get to be a “kid” really ever again. It didn’t hit in a bad way, just a very real way. It was Doreen who pulled the cervidil out for me and started me on pitocin to try to get contractions going.
By midmorning of day 2 in the hospital, I finally asked my newest nurse, Michelle, how things were progressing, since I wasn’t feeling much change. She said my pitocin was almost maxed out and because of my lack of pain, I wasn’t likely progressing. I asked what that meant for the day ahead. She said that we would have to begin discussing options soon. Yikes! Doesn’t that sound scary? I immediately thought “C-section.” (Yes, that was an option, but I guess there is a drug stronger than pitocin that can also be used, so that was another option.) I called Aaron to update him, since I sent him home to shower and take care of the kitty and guinea pig, leaving him a voicemail. I was given a chance to eat again, taken off the belly monitors, and then was introduced to the WONDERS of the whirlpool tub. I was going to take a shower, but I am so glad I opted for the bath. It was AH-MAZING! I told Aaron that if we didn’t have one by the time we retire, I would consider our lives a failure.
Soon after my bath, Dr. Roose came in again and asked to check me. I’d been checked earlier in the morning and wasn’t dilated at all, but this time, Dr. Roose said that I had progressed enough to have my bag of waters broken. Wow! She asked if I wanted her to do that. I was startled that she asked, so I said, “Do we want to do that?” Michelle said, “If your goal is to have a baby…” I laughed and said ok. NOW, I fully understand the “puppy pad” because I felt like I was peeing on myself. Before she left, Dr. Roose also confirmed that I was now able to, at whatever point I chose, receive pain meds.  I was given a chance to walk around a bit because it would a) be the last chance I had for a while and b) I would go back on pitocin in about half an hour. Aaron and I wandered the floor together for about 15 minutes or so, contemplating what all this meant and the change that was now imminent in our lives.
Pt. 4 – Let’s Talk Pain for a Moment, Shall We?
Aaron and I had been to all of our prenatal classes and in one, the instructor said that your risk of complications due to epidurals are reduced after dilating to 5 cm. Thus, Aaron and I planned to have me wait that long, though I did talk to him and mention that, as I don’t normally take drugs for anything, I needed him to trust me and not ask me to wait if I was begging for drugs prior to the epidural. We had both agreed that narcotics, which can cause some issues in Kiddos and wear off, decreasing their effectiveness with each dose, were not an option.
Once our walk was over, I was pretty much sentenced to bed/chair time as they started the pitocin once again. I was worried that since it hadn’t worked before, would it work this time? Uff-freakin-dah! You bet your booty it did. I think the pitocin started around 1:00pm and I seriously started to feel some pains. I was able to breathe through them and watch TV, but I think it was somewhere around 5:00 or 6:00 that I was definitely feeling the onset of “agony.” I kept thinking, “if this is only stage one of labor, how in the hell can I make it through two more stages just by breathing?” I was so worried too, because I didn’t want to have to break my plan of waiting until 5 cm for the epidural. I was terrified that Aaron would think I was a wimp, that I was giving up.
My nurse (probably my least favorite, but still sweet) Andrea, came in to see him writhing in the chair. Each contraction I had made me breathe hard and deep and I felt like the only way I could make it through them was to move somehow (no walking allowed though). Andrea asked if I wanted something in my IV. I gritted my teeth and asked if that was a narcotic. She confirmed that yes, it was, but I shook my head no. “My birth plan SAYS “no narcotics” on it,” I wanted to scream! I looked at Aaron and I can only imagine that my look was pitiful. Again, I didn’t want to wimp-out and disappoint him or introduce unnecessary risk to Kiddo. People survive this everyday without meds right? I asked Andrea if the epidural was an option because, despite her assurances that they wouldn’t cause any harm to Kiddo, I didn’t want narcotics, but was in enough pain to be senseless and say yes if she kept asking. She said it was and I said, “Let’s do it.” I was moved back to the bed then, Andrea made the call, and she started prepping for the anesthesiologist’s arrival.
Within about 10 minutes, Dr. Kitterman showed up. I was happy to see him, but again, concerned about this process. I had to sit up and Andrea told me to push my lower back out as far as I could. Now, this is a confusing command. I guess I needed explained to me what my “lower back” was, because I kept arching my back. I thought the epidural went in lower than it does, so I was pushing my booty out instead of rounding over the way he needed it. I knew it was hurt to get, but I knew that relief was on the other side of the pain. Unfortunately, due to my booty tooching as Tyra Banks would say, it took him a few tries more than I would have liked; 5 tries by my count, but I was delirious. He did actually get it in once, but then my ears started ringing and my lips went numb, meaning that he had pushed just a bit too far and hit a blood vessel (powerful stuff if within 2-3 seconds that effect occurred). The sensation of the epidural was obviously one of a needle, but then there was this weird clicking feeling and sound that I’m not sure I understand, though I don’t think it is necessary to do so. The hardest part of the epidural process was not the pain from Dr. Kitterman, but of being rounded over my contracting belly. Oh, that was some serious pain. And, I enjoyed moving to help the contractions go away and obviously, you can’t do that while the doc is working in such a sensitive space as your spine. I was trying to hold still, but I was shaking my head which was also forbidden. I kept apologizing profusely for moving and for saying “ow” with each stick in my back. I was nearly in tears now for the pain and again, I would say I wasn’t exactly in full control of my faculties. Andrea was helping bend me over the right way and Aaron was right there with me the whole time and eventually, Dr. Kitterman was successful.
Once the epidural was in, I was positioned in bed to let it go to work. I had to have a catheter because once it kicked in, I wouldn’t be able to tell if I had to pee or not. I had another nurse now, Monica, who was by far my favorite. Once the epidural started, WHAM, I was nearly beaten to death by the sand man. I politely told everyone that I was going to sleep now and sprinted to slumber (no nodding off for me). Monica had chuckled and said it was a good idea. She checked me for dilation and I am proud to report that she said I was about a 4 or 5. I’ll say I was a 5, so I made my goal of waiting that long.
The downside to the epidural was that it did make me a bit shakey, like I was cold. Come to think of it, that may have been a different med altogether. The epidural did make me itchy though, but not until much later. One of the benefits of the epidural, aside from the obvious pain relief, was that the bed which had been my purgatory no longer sucked! I woke up a few times to be checked on or have my IV fluids adjusted/changed. I did have to call the nurse at one point because I felt like my right side was starting to “wake up” a bit, not really painful, but I could feel it, where as my left side was essentially dead weight. I had to be repositioned to balance the epidural meds out and I could still feel a bit on the right and maintained some control there, but my left side was definitely down for the count.
At one point, Monica mentioned that she loved that I had written “labor down” on my birth plan. Laboring down, as an FYI, means that when you are fully dilated to 10 cm, you wait, because Kiddo isn’t necessarily “right there” and ready to come out just yet. Laboring down allows you body to continue contracting and pushing the baby down the birth canal without you having to do any work. Laboring down really worked for me. I couldn’t feel much of anything, so I couldn’t tell you if it hurts or not. I was allowed to rest up for the big push to come, which was amazing. Monica checked at one point to see that I was 10 cm, then we waited for about an hour to an hour and a half. I did notice that I was starting to feel a little pressure down south. When she next checked she said, “Baby’s head is right there; do you want to try to push?”
Pt. 5 – Welcome to the World Little Angel!
Obviously, I’ve never pushed a baby into the world before. I was a bit concerned about pushing with an epidural. Monica said it would likely take a few hours of pushing to get Kiddo out. Being numb, she had to direct me when I was having a contraction. I was told to breathe in, grab the backs of my legs and curl up, and push hard for 10 seconds and then lather, rinse, repeat twice more each contraction. So, during a contraction, I had a cycle of three pushes that, when added together, equaled one big push. I gave it a shot and hoped I was doing it right.
Monica said she was quite surprised, that I was an excellent pusher. When pushing, it is like taking two steps forward and one step back each time, so the first push of the cycle puts baby where he was at the end of the last cycle and the second and third pushes are what really does the work. I have never pushed so hard in my life. I understand why my mother broken a blood vessel in her eye while giving birth to me! I kept my eyes closed as and forced as much energy as I could into each push.
At one point, Aaron was told to help hold my right leg for me and he also became my counter. I remember telling him I thought he was counting too slowly. Poor guy! He had wanted to be a “north side of the table” birthing partner. As he said it, “I’m farther south than I thought I’d be; I’m like at the equator.” I told him to just look at me, but he said that it was hard not to look.
Daddy side note: I am so proud that he was right there, didn’t pass out, and stuck by me. I could not have asked for a better birth partner than Aaron. He was SO supportive, full of encouragement and kind words, helping me through being nearly bed-ridden by getting me fluids and ice, helping me in and out of the bathtub, using a wet washcloth on my head for comfort, those horrid contractions, the epidural, everything. He never left my side once when the real deal was happening. He is such a great man, a pillar of strength, and now he is the most amazing father and so supportive of when I need a break.
A few times, I kind of gave up or my energy gave out on the final push of the cycle, but it didn’t matter. Within about 7-8 of those push cycles, Monica had called for the doctor (now Dr. Booth). She watched me push a couple of times, then got all her gear on. She ever had a face shield!  I think, in the grand scheme of things and though I lost actual count, I pushed about 12-15 of those cycles total, about 40 minutes overall because I didn’t push every contraction (Monica was feeling my belly rather than relying on the monitor which kept moving).
I was asked if I wanted to see because they could see a little hair, but I said no; I was too worried about what else I would see in that mirror. Funny enough, I was concerned about my “modesty” until I knew he was coming. There were a total of four people in the room if you don’t include Aaron, Killian, and myself: Dr. Booth, Monica, and two other nurses. Modesty, shmodesty; it all goes away when the world is invited to stare at your hoo-hoo! (A note about modesty: I practically answered the door in my nursing bra and PJ pants earlier today when the florist delivered a bouquet of flowers from school. At least I managed to grab a robe before I opened the door and showed the neighbors and delivery guy my engorged Dairy Queens! LOL!)
Suddenly, I heard Aaron say, “Oh baby look!” and I opened my eyes to see Killian Dale Robinson being placed on my chest. I’d had no idea how close he’d been because Dr. Booth never said anything! I thought they would have me push this head out and then push the rest of him out. I remember thinking he must have flopped out like a slippery fish because it was over so fast! Hello Kiddo! Killian Dale entered the world at 11:08pm 9/8/11 weighing 6 pounds, 11 ounces, and being 19 inches long. APGARs of 8 and 8! What a peanut! I guess I didn’t need to worry about having a big baby. He came out at just the perfect size.
I just stared in wonder. I didn’t cry, though thinking about it now brings tears to my eyes! It was the most beautiful thing in the world, seeing my son for the first time, hearing his precious cry (which yes, is still precious, though it will sour my mood someday I’m sure). I just kept saying, “Hi” over and over again, looking him over and touching his tiny face and hands. There are simply no words for how powerful the connection was immediately, how full my heart was the moment his eyes opened and met mine. I still can’t put words to the feelings. It simply rendered me speechless (a feat in itself, I know).
They took him to check him out and I could have cared less what was going on down south. I had no idea that I’d already birthed the placenta and only marginally heard Dr. Booth say that she was going to repair the tear I had. Monica had to do some “fundal massage” to make sure that my uterus was still contracting to help stop the blood flow. It was uncomfortable because she had to push right on/in my belly button and again, it felt like I was peeing on myself as any excess fluid left my body.
They brought Killian over and I did attempt to nurse him. Aaron and I made the decision to send him to the nursery one night to make sure that we could both get some much needed rest. I felt a bit guilty, but it was a great idea in the end. I kissed my sweet angel goodnight and then he was whisked away. The nursery supplemented him through the night, which I was conflicted about, but that’s a story for another time.
Remember “No Room in the Inn” from day 1 in the hospital? Well, the problem still hadn’t been solved by the time Killian was delivered. At first, we were supposed to just stay in the LD suite with a different bed for me (thank GOD). Then Monica, the Angel of a Nurse, managed to get us a bed back in the triage area. A REAL bed. The IV meds were stopped and the epidural and catheter were removed. Funny story about that epidural removal. I thought it would hurt and it didn’t, but MAN, the tape they used to keep that sucker in place…I thought that I’d just had my entire back waxed! The tape was essentially 2 giant sticky sheets, like fly paper only with the adhesive quality of rubber cement. I was helped to a gurney (since my left side was still dopey from the epidural) and wheeled to our suite.
I was being checked constantly through the night and Aaron still didn’t get much sleep because we were not told that his “chair” folded out and there were no cots available in the entire hospital. The epidural took a while to wear off, so Killian being in the nursery was a great plan because I wouldn’t have been able to walk to get him. We did keep him in our room for our second night in the hospital and it was a bit of a trial, but we made it through. Though I wouldn’t have minded more time to learn about him with trained staff nearby to offer advice, instruction, and support, I was SOOOOO ready to go home after nearly four days in the hospital. The craziness of home couldn’t compete with the comfort it offered.


There is much, much more to the story. Visits from family, the Volkswagen sized “peri-pads” or “pink products and mesh undies, getting through a night with Kiddo and trying to breast feed, the lack of attention from staff due to never being moved to a postpartum suite (though the triage people were great and tried the best they could, but were not used to working with postpartum families), the strong desire for more education and wondering if they owner’s manual for my child was tossed out with the placenta, worrying about his care, getting peed on, going home and the terror of the first night, nights that got a little better, hormones WAY outta-whack, no peeing - too much peeing, supplementing which feels like failure, the perfect doctor’s visit, getting the hang of diapers and caring for his little wounded pee stick (circumcision can’t be fun), pumping and nursing, and great people who offer great advice when I feel like I’m at the end of my rope, being home with him alone, learning the date of the end of maternity leave, emotions on overdrive, etc, etc, yada, yada.
I will relay all of these tales at a later time. For now, I hear my Kiddo moving around in the other room and know that he will likely either want to nurse, poop and cry through the change, pee on himself (and me) or just be cuddled and snuggled (my FAVORITE). Maybe even all of the above! Tonight we have a “real” bath on deck since he’s bathed himself with pee TWICE today.
By the way, the list of nicknames is already growing. I think most of them are mine, but here is a sampling for your pleasure: Kiddo, Baby Boy (Dad's nickname), Bright Eyes, Peanut, Mr. Man or Little Man, Monkey Man, Little Old Man, Mr. Grumpy Gills (when I change him), Sweetie, Angel, Bubba (Gump), Precious (not said in a creepy Gollum voice), Killian Dale (hard not to say both when I love them both), Beetle Bug (from Granny Joan), Cuddle Bug, Kidlet, Punkin (Pie)…the list continues to grow!
Until next time…love from the slightly larger and cooler Robinson Clan! (I will post pictures later as well).

Monday, September 5, 2011

Holy Crap...It's September! (subtitle: My Kid Is Peeing Inside Me!)

Wow! I am utterly flabberghasted that it's already September! I'm supposed to usher Kiddo into the world at the end of this month. Since today is the 5th, that means that I have approximately 18 days to get ready for this crazy parenthood thing. Ok, I'll admit it, I'm scared shitless! And yup, I just cursed! One of the many things that I will likely pass on to my dear son. Shit! I said "son." It's getting so real now, I'm kinda worked up about it! Can you tell? Anywho, let's do this fast:

37 Weeks - "Your baby is now considered full term, even though your due date is still three weeks away. If you go into labor now, his lungs will likely be mature enough to fully adjust to life outside the womb. He weighs 6 1/3 pounds and measures a bit over 19 inches, head to heel (like a stalk of Swiss chard). Many babies have a full head of hair at birth, with locks from 1/2 inch to 1 1/2 inches long."

I had both an ultrasound and an appointment this week. I love how doctors comment more on my legs and the persistent scars from bug bites, bad razors, and really bad cats, than they do on my burgeoning belly. I realize the marks look pretty bad and that I was naughty to scratch them when they were fresh, but let's stop talking about them and cut to the baby news, right?

The ultrasound was to check to make sure Kiddo's tootsies are pointed skyward. This was indeed confirmed! I also kind of got to see his lil face in 4D. My child, my beautiful son...looks like an alien. No, it's ok, I can say that because I'm his mother. His ability to be photogenic may have been compromised by the fact that the ultrasound tech kept pushing pretty deep into my belly and would then comment on just how smushed he was. And, almost half of his face was obscured by my placenta. Aaron and I have compared the forthcoming photo to either the Green Goblin or the old school "Bat Boy" magazine cover. So, here he is!


Yes, he has a pig nose. There is no sign of the hair that my weekly update suggested may be there. Also, the UT mentioned that he is 7 pounds! Not 6 1/3 as my email promised, but 7 whole pounds. Knock, knock Kiddo! Time to come out before your entry into this world results is MEGA pain and MEGA poundage! Geez!

I'm hoping that this week's ultrasound looks a bit better, but it's probably best if I don't hold my breath, right? Speaking of that, yup, I am required to have another ultrasound. Why? Well, it seems that my fluid level was low when they checked, so they want to make sure it goes back up. The UT said that it was likely due to the fact that Kiddo had swallowed fluid and hadn't peed yet. That gave me pause...I guess I'd never thought about the fact that my kid has been peeing inside me for nine months. My boss laughed when I told her and remarked that her grand-daughter peed on the way out of her momma. Not sure if that is comforting... So, the next ultrasound is to make sure that my fluid levels have gone back up, ie. to make sure my kid has peed inside me.

In other news, the dry tampon test revealed that yes, I am currently incubating Group B Strep. Woot! Wait, we don't like that...right. It really just means that I will be required to have IV antibiotics during labor. My doctor this week, currently my favorite for her bluntness and sense of humor stated, "I do not want you to deliver at home." That's great! It wasn't really in my plans to deliver at home since, you know, all the cool drugs live at the hospital, not to mention the fact that I don't want blood or other bodily fluids on my carpet. (My kid is peeing inside me, probably right now even.) I guess that testing positive for GBS is far more common than people think. The antibiotics are to help keep Kiddo safe, since GBS doesn't really affect me as an adult. The meds will help prevent him from catching GBS, which can cause scary things like meningitis. Not so cool, so bring on the meds.

Not much else is going on, other than the minor panic attacks due to how close delivery is. Work has been stressful as I try to plan out how to care for an admin placement, remedy some computer issues to enable people to monitor students while I'm gone on maternity leave (my kid is peeing in me), and combat a HUGE virus that struck the school, taking down almost the entire network and the phones in the building next door to us. No stress there, none at all. I have actually broken out in dyshidrotic eczema all over my hands and feet due to the stress. It's kind of nasty and it ITCHES!

I had a crying jag at work on Thursday due to the stress. I'm sure it's largely hormone related, but I don't like when people think that I can solve all computer issues. I guess maybe I need to create a cheat sheet of what I can and cannot fix; maybe I should try to figure out what those things are. The sheet could look something like this:

  • SchoolVue issue: call Valerie and she'll take a look
  • Printer issue: did you add it following the directions or is it jammed? Try fixing it yourself first, then call Valerie and she'll give it a try.
  • Computer is behaving funny while performing a basic task (ie. saving, printing, creating a document, etc.): try again yourself, and then call Valerie
  • Computer won't turn on and it is all plugged in: call help desk
  • Internet doesn't work: call help desk.
  • Finally, if Valerie says to call the help desk, I'm not joking and I'm not deflecting. I cannot solve all computer issues as I did not study computers in college and have no desire to learn more than I have already learned through "life exposure to computers." Seriously, if I say to call the help desk, I mean it. I'm tired of people who say "I wish (former tech specialist) was here. He'd solve it." It makes me angry to hear that, he did things that I either don't KNOW how to do or I am not COMFORTABLE doing because these are not my computers. I'd also like to point out that HE got paid to do this job and this is now my second year of attempting to field help requests while working with my students and I'm not receiving compensation. I am not begging for the money, but I am saying that I am working far more hours as both teacher and tech specialist than I would as just a teacher. I didn't even receive money for all the tech hours I worked this summer. I don't come in between 6:30 and 6:45 every day for my health. Grr.
Rant over! Yay! I promised pictures from Steph and Ryan's wedding. I stole them from all my FB buddies and Luther ladies. Here you go and TTFN!

Rehearsal Dinner with good people. Great shot, just not of me.
I should be a Raygun ad! This was at the salon, right after I got my hair done. All boobs and belly! And smoldering glare. I may have been up to something, or I was thinking about Skittles.
After the girls got their hair did and donned our dresses. Check out our hotness! You can't buy this in any store!
The Bride! Isn't she lovely?

All the hotties gathered up during photos with our parasols! Heart!
Preggos unite! Rislow and I showing off our bellies!
Sylvia and Killian's betrothal! LOL! Belly bump!
Ah, these poor men and what they have to put up with!
Aaron and I. Can you tell that my feet hurt? 
A lovely dance by the bride and groom!
When two Luther grads get married, it's a Luther party! Lutherans gone wild!
Thanks for reading and all that! Hasta luego for the moment and ... my kid is peeing inside me...

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Insomnia strikes again!

So, here I am, beginning to write this post at 2:45 am. I'm not sure if it was the Mt. Dew that I drank at 7:00pm or just Kiddo's way of preparing me for many late nights/early mornings, but I might as well be productive and update this blog, right? Here's the 36 week 411:

"Your baby is gaining about an ounce a day. She now weighs almost 6 pounds (like a crenshaw melon) and is more than 18 1/2 inches long. She's shedding most of the downy hair that covered her body, as well as the vernix caseosa, the waxy substance that protected her skin during her nine-month amniotic bath. Next week, your baby will be considered full-term. Most likely she's in a head-down position, but if she isn't, your practitioner may suggest scheduling an external cephalic version, where she'll try to turn your baby by manipulating her from the outside of your belly." Author's side note: what the deuce is a crenshaw melon? Stop calling my baby fruits I don't know...

What's really going on with me you ask? Let's chat for a moment shall we? Aaron and I have officially finished our prenatal classes. We've run the full gamut from what to expect in labor, to how not to hold your infant and check if they are sick, how to provide nommys via my chesticles, and now we've taken "postpartum adjustments." This last class was kind of nice because they brought in parents of a 2 month, 3 month, and 4 month old (with their actual pooping, screaming children even) and we got to ask questions. I had NO CLUE what to ask, I just wanted them to talk and for me to absorb their every word. I learned some rather explicit information about the days-weeks after birth for me that I have to say I'm not looking forward to living through, but I guess many women have survived it and even gone on to have more children, so it must be tolerable. I practically laughed my ass off when I saw the "pink products" the hospital will provide post birth for my personal use: they are the size of a small car! And somehow I'm supposed to fit them inside these mesh panty thingys, along with some ice packs for my poor booty region. I'm predicting a very pronounced waddle that will define my gait once I manage to combine all these items with pants and shoes.

I had a doctor appointment today, my last bi-weekly visit and met the final practitioner in my office. She seemed really sweet, until...

I had to have the Group B Strep culture taken. Now, I'm not naive, I knew this was coming and researched what it involved. In fact, I first heard about this joyous event in my birthing class when a young African American girl loudly announced that she got her "butt swabbed" while her friend/birthing partner cackled next to her (the same friend who I later caught shaving her armpits in the bathroom while we were on break, though I don't know if I shared that story). Our instructor mentioned that the test was important to do later in the pregnancy because if you do carry GBS, you must receive antibiotics via IV during delivery to prevent passing it to your child. It doesn't usually affect adults, but can really cause havoc for the baby. Back to the original narrative though:

My nurse came in to take my bp, which was a little high again, but that was after she reminded me about the test. I also have just started the school year and had to leave mid-school day to have this appointment while stressing out over the return of an admin placement, blah, blah, blah. In other words, adding to new school year stress by reminding me you're planning to boldly go where no one has gone before won't result in a calm, collected Valerie. I also had a huge weight jump this time: 6 pounds in two weeks! Are you kidding me? That's 3 pounds more than my scale at home says! All I'd had prior to the appointment was a handful of frosted mini-wheats, 6 pringles, and 32 oz of water! Geez! (I'm guessing it was the water that did it, since I did chug all 32 oz before the appointment to ensure I had a nice "sample" for them and my weight is once again lower here at home.)

In walks my doctor, 20 minutes after my bp test. I've had to disrobe from the waste down and cover my booty with this little sheet. The nurse had been kind enough to put down a little pink paper towel for my butt, but let's chat about that. I know it's supposed to make it more...I really don't know I guess. Comfortable? Hygenic? Pretty? All that happened was that my naked butt under a sheet on a vinyl padded table started to sweat and that result of that is one piece of pretty pink SHREDDED paper towel. So doc is in the room with me and asks the typical questions: is he moving (all the time), any issues (raging heartburn), any questions (not at this moment, can we cut to the chase here and get the little culture taken?). Then she measures my belly, which she said was something like 38 inches and "right on" for where I should be. Kiddo's heart was a-pounding away in his usual 140s, which is nice and healthy. Then she grabs the little swab for the culture. Up until this moment, I hadn't really minded being half-dressed and prodded and may have even gone so far as to say I was enjoying meeting and chatting with this doctor. As she collected the necessary culture, I learned how severely looks can deceive. Spoiler alert: this doesn't go well for me and all men and squeamish women may just want to skip down a bit further. Prepare for an overshare the size of Texas:

The little swab felt like someone was trying to wedge a dry freaking tampon up my lady parts! Seriously?!?! How big was that thing?!?!?! On a scale of 1 to huge, I'll give it a "did you just try to put a rusty VW Beetle in my crotch?" I'm sure this is one of those parts of pregnancy I'll forget, but geez! I was so surprised by the vag violation, I don't even really recall how my poor booty felt about the situation. Then doc tells me she's going to check my cervix and that can be a little uncomfortable. THAT will be uncomfortable? Where was the warning on the GBS test? Having my cervix checked felt like a beach holiday after the trauma of the previous activity.

Doc told me I wasn't even really dilated enough for her to tell if Kiddo was head up or down. At this point in the pregnancy, we want his tiny tootsies pointed at the sky. Because she couldn't be certain, she scheduled an ultrasound for next week. Because they don't do ultrasounds on Fridays, that means I have TWO doctor's appointments next week, both during the school day. Let's see what THAT does to my bp! I asked if I needed to do anything for my elevated bp, but doc said she'd just have the nurse take it again before I left and have me lay on my left side for it. She left and I got dressed. The little pink paper towel was in about six pieces, so I carefully gathered them all together and tossed them in the trash. I waited for the nurse to come for my bp, but didn't know I was supposed to lie down while I waited for her. Oops! She took my bp again, but it was still high so she wanted me to lay down. I asked if I could go pee first (32 oz of water people), since perhaps the stress of needing to pee so badly was causing my elevated bp. After my GBS test, I was shocked by home much it hurt to pee! I think the doctor completely missed my vag and dove into my pee hole instead! Maybe that's why the cotton swab from hell felt so large! Anywho, I went back and laid down for 10 minutes or so and my bp dropped precipitously, therefore enabling my escape from the office. So there you have it. If you're still reading and you're a woman, you can INDEED survive a GBS test and live to laugh about it.

Let's address another issue that's been plaguing me of late: forgetfulness. I'd heard that this happens during pregnancy, but I hadn't really experienced much until the last few weeks or so. Mom is in town this weekend, attending the Stork Affair with me, bringing us a new(er) couch and chairs for our table, buying wedding snacks at Costco, etc. We decided to hit Costco tonight to save us time tomorrow (wait, it's Saturday morning right now, isn't it? You work it out...) We wandered around and gathered goodies, and then headed to the checkout. After we paid, I started digging through my purse for my keys. Well, guess what I couldn't find! I knew immediately that they were locked in my car. Man I was mad, especially when I couldn't locate my spare key ANYWHERE in my purse! I called AAA and they said it'd be about 45 minutes. That's not a terrible wait really. Mom and I wheeled out to the car to wait since it was nice enough outside to do so. We chatted while we waited and I expressed how crappy it was to be so forgetful lately (seriously, if I don't write it down or say it immediately when I have the thought, I'll forget it). Mom asked to check my purse again for the spare that I once upon a time kept inside (I'd dumped the contents on to a germ-laden table inside Costco once already). I was fairly adamant that it wouldn't make a bit of difference since I'd already looked, but she insisted. I was rattling on and on about how I used to keep a spare on me at all times and I'd kept it in a small-zippered-pocket-but-that-must-have-been-my-old-purse-and-now-that-I-think-of-it-the-spare-may-be-on-the-hook-by-the-garage-door-at-home-and-a-fat-lot-of-good-it-does-me-there-and-I-hope-they-come-to-unlock-the-door-soon-because-I-don't-want-the-chicken-to-thaw-of-the-pasta-to-get-too-warm...

Mom found the exact zippered pouch that I had mentioned and my spare key was in it. DOY! I'm not sure how I missed a HUGE zippered pocket with a smaller zippered pocket inside when my purse is as small as it is, but yes I did. I apologized to Mom for being such a B-word about her looking through my purse and called AAA to cancel the help request. I lied and said my husband brought my spare, rather than attempting to explain to the helpful helper that my placenta has caused all blood to flow away from my brain. The craziest part is that any other day, I would have forgotten to lock my doors and there wouldn't have been a problem, since I seem to forget to do that a lot lately. Wow! I have a Master's degree in Educational Leadership; no wonder no one wants to hire me to help lead a school.

Let's mention something good and fun from the last week now shall we? My former roommate and awesomest friend Stephanie got married last weekend! Having lived with her for two years and had many deep and fart-filled conversations with her, I wasn't sure that marriage was something she wanted when we were in college. Whether it seemed too restrictive or whatever, it just didn't seem to be something she was comfortable with and I really loved that about her; I think it was through these chats that she helped foster my own feminist side, because I had previously held the belief that I wouldn't amount to much until I was a wife. I have to thank Stephanie because I have been able to move beyond that way of thinking now. Yes, I'm married and very happily so, expecting my first child and thrilled with my life, but I think Stephy taught me that it is ok to be myself and have my own thoughts and ideas and that ruffling feathers or going against the grain is a better, smarter way to live. I'm really hoping that all of this is coming off heartfelt because I mean it so deeply and don't want this to be construed as negative or judgmental. Steph is just this amazing, go-getter lady who is always looking to do something good and I swear never takes time to just quietly exist in a space. Everyone knows her and everyone LOVES THE HELL OUT OF HER. I've watched her grow a lot though in the last few years and when she told me she was getting married, it didn't seem like a weird thing; it seemed very right, like the pieces of a jumbled puzzle had been laid in place. Stephy will always be Stephy, but seeing her get married last weekend brought tears to my eyes. There is no way I would have missed this day, pregnancy-shmegnancy!

The day started off pretty nasty though, with this intense storm in the morning. But it cleared off by the afternoon and during the pictures. I spent the morning in the salon with the girls, a baby shower gift from Kathryn. I LOVED my hair, but really, that whole time in the salon was about being with these amazing women! HOW THE HELL was I fortunate enough the meet these ladies? How have I managed to somehow count myself among their ranks? I'll never really understand it, but I don't want to. They are all just amazing! We got ready at the salon too so that we could just run back to the hotel to eat and then go get photos. It was a great day, a beautiful and touching ceremony, and an awesome party! To Stephanie and Ryan, I wish you more happiness, love, and laughter than you can fit into your lifetimes. Stay you, eat well, and love life!

Here are some hijacked photos of the day for your viewing pleasure. (Photo credits is Rislow and Gabster!)

...I've been trying to upload the photos unsuccessfully, so I'll try to post them later. Woot for potential multiple updates!

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Quick update!

Speedy update since I know I'm a bit behind, but I am also extremely busy at home. Here's the last two weeks' updates:

34 Weeks - "Your baby now weighs about 4 3/4 pounds (like your average cantaloupe) and is almost 18 inches long. Her fat layers — which will help regulate her body temperature once she's born — are filling her out, making her rounder. Her skin is also smoother than ever. Her central nervous system is maturing and her lungs are continuing to mature as well. If you've been nervous about preterm labor, you'll be happy to know that babies born between 34 and 37 weeks who have no other health problems generally do fine. They may need a short stay in the neonatal nursery and may have a few short-term health issues, but in the long run, they usually do as well as full-term babies."

35 Weeks - "Your baby doesn't have much room to maneuver now that he's over 18 inches long and tips the scales at 5 1/4 pounds (pick up a honeydew melon). Because it's so snug in your womb, he isn't likely to be doing somersaults anymore, but the number of times he kicks should remain about the same. His kidneys are fully developed now, and his liver can process some waste products. Most of his basic physical development is now complete — he'll spend the next few weeks putting on weight."

After all those comparisons to melon, I need to go get some fruit! Aaron and I have now attended the baby basics class (washing, changing, medicating, swaddling, etc.) and the breastfeeding essentials classes. I'm glad to report that we actually only have one class left: postpartum adjustments. I'm supposed to learn all about what to expect AFTER I have the kid. (On a different but related note, I dreamt last night that Kiddo came out very quickly, but was a girl, I got into a fight with my mother about her name, and was in need of serious mental help as I came to the realization that little girls maybe don't like Mario as much as little boys and I would need to repaint the room.)

This weekend, Aaron, Kiddo and I are off to Madison to shake our booties for Steph's wedding! I'm both excited and apprehensive. This is the only wedding, aside from my father's, that I have ever been in. I bought a totally cute pair of heels to wear with my dress, but then I began to worry about how my feet might hold up. I bought a pair of flats also, but those bastards tore the hell out of the backs of my feet. I've been trying to let them heal up, but when I tried the flats on this morning, YIKES there's still a lot of pain. I think I'm just going to wear the heels and grit it out if they start to hurt. I do believe that we are staying in the swankiest hotel I've ever been in this weekend as well. I think I'm most excited just to see my girls again!

The apprehension comes from the fact that I am officially nearing the end of my eighth month. I know most docs would tell me not to travel, but there's no way in hell I'm missing this! So, always a planner, I am packing an emergency bag, just in case Kiddo decides to get this show on the road a bit earlier than planned. I've packed a blanket from Aunt Emily and Aunt Steph, his little scrubs, and the Who Loves Baby? book from Auntie Gab, complete with pictures. For myself I've packed an extra change of clothes (since I already have a few packed for the wedding travel), extra underwear (a must I hear), chap stick, hair ties and headbands, and some of the styling funky socks I got at Target last time (black and purple argyle and grey and purple stripes). I've also packed a few other things, but really, I think that's the essentials. Oh, and we'll have to pack the car seat so we don't have to go buy a brand new one.

So far, I'm not anticipating that Kiddo is planning The Great Escape yet. I've had some Braxton Hicks contractions that feel like somebody is yanking on my belly button. Most don't really hurt, they are just kind of uncomfortable, but on occasion they take my breath away. Next week is my last two-week appointment (second day of the school year no less) and then I have to start going every week! Next week is also the first of many visits where I shall have to strip down and let it all show so the docs can check things out. By the way, can someone PLEASE invent a filter for the TVs of pregnant women? Any time I see a pregnancy show, I have to watch it! I can't turn the damn things off, and you know that smooth deliveries don't make good TV. Instead I have to watch C-section hell, crappy epidurals, semi-insensitive nurses, and women who literally scream their children out. I don't think it's healthy for me to watch these things, but it's like I'm unable to change the channel, and even if I could, the batteries in the remote have gone dead (figuratively speaking of course).

Really, I need to go finish packing. Aaron and I are going to head out tonight to finish up any last minute "we need that" shopping for the wedding. I seriously can't wait and I think it's a great way to end my summer "vacation" (like I'd know what that is...).

TTFN!

Monday, August 15, 2011

2 Glorious Years

Dear Kiddo,
Today is a very special day. Maybe you can feel that, maybe you can’t, but I want to share with you why today is so very special for your Momma. Two years ago today, I became my whole self. Two years ago today, I said with words what my soul and my heart already felt. Two years ago today, I married your Daddy.
It’s hard sometimes for me to believe the changes that your Daddy has made in my life. Maybe this is a chance to tell you the story of how we met and how we became ready to meet you (though I still don’t know if we’re ready to meet you Angel). Here goes, for you:
Your Daddy came into my life at the perfect time, though I wish he had come sooner so that we could have already spent more time together. Momma was a senior in college and had just broken up with a guy; I was feeling pretty down on myself, like I may never find someone to share my heart with. I remember thinking that sometimes my heart felt so full of love I would burst. Momma had never really had a good relationship with a guy and sometimes, I felt like I was doomed to be alone. I always got hurt by boys and I spent a lot of time building up walls around my heart so that it wouldn't hurt so much. I had a journal that I wrote, just like this one. I wrote some pretty awful things in it after the break-up, about how terrible I thought all men were (I’m going to raise you right Kiddo; you’re not allowed to do mean things to girls…). Little did I know as I wrote my angry and bitter words about boys that those words would help me meet Daddy.
Daddy had a journal on the internet too, on the same site that I used. It was actually his birthday in 2004 that he got curious enough to see if there were other people on the website from Iowa. He did a search for other blogs and somehow found Mommy’s. I’m still not sure what possessed him to do it, but he read all of Momma’s angry words and decided to send me a message. He said something about how he was a man and had to agree with me that men sucked big time. I read your Daddy’s words to me, there weren’t many, but they made me laugh. I sent him a message back, saying that I thought girls could be pretty awful too (something I’m sure you’ll learn Kiddo, but I’ll be there when you do to show you that not every girl is cruel).
Mommy and Daddy started sending more messages to each other. Sometimes, we’d post things on our blog about one another or to one another like funny quotes and links or great song lyrics we both loved or that expressed how we were feeling. Then we started talking through AIM, that’s AOL Instant Messenger (something I’m sure you’ll NEVER use and that proves how old Mom and Dad are). Daddy worked the late shift at Oscar Mayer and I would stay up late to talk with him when he got home. I can’t even remember much of what we talked about, but I remember waiting at my computer for his icon to light up, telling me he was home.
I think it was probably around the beginning of January in 2005, just a month or so after his first message to me, that I started thinking that I liked him a lot more than I realized. I remember that he gave me his phone number one night and I called him, intentionally leaving him a message because I was kind of shy about talking with him, voice to voice, since I’d never actually met him in person or even seen his face. He posted something on his blog about know what the voice of an angel sounded like after that call and Kiddo, my heart melted. Daddy would never claim it, but he’s quite the poet when he wants to be and between him and me, he’s definitely the more romantic, which I love about him.
The next time I called though, trying to just leave him a message, his mom Elaine picked up the phone! Oh my goodness I didn’t know what to say! I got scared because I knew I’d have to talk! So I just stuttered and asked to talk to Daddy. I can’t tell you if I was more nervous waiting for him to pick up or while I was actually talking with him! I should have know at that moment, with that knee-shaking, terrified, but terrifically excited feeling that I was in love, but I’d never been in love before, so how could I have known? I can’t remember if we talked long that time or if it was short. I think we were both pretty surprised to be hearing one another’s voices (it was the first time I heard Daddy’s voice).
Over the next few weeks, we kept talking more and more, still a lot on the internet, but also on the phone more. Then, one night while Momma was at home on a short break from college, Daddy and I were IMing and he said the words…the BIG words…the words I hope you only say when you really and truly mean them Kiddo because they change so much: Daddy said, “I love you” and it broke me (Daddy used to “break” me a lot, when he’d say something sweet and I didn’t know what to say in return). Momma had no way to respond at the time. I’d never heard those words before, not from a man. I knew he meant them too, which was so exciting and so scary at the same time! I cried very hard as I read them; I read them over and over again Kiddo. I knew I loved your Daddy too! That was January 29th, and for a long time, Daddy and I used that date as our anniversary.
I told him I didn’t want to say those words to him yet, because I wanted to see his face when I said them. Daddy said he understood. We both did something silly then. Neither one of us knew it at the time, but we had bought each other Valentine’s Day cards. After that night though, the cards we’d gotten for each other just didn’t seem to make sense anymore, because they were cards you send to friends and Daddy and I weren’t just friends anymore. We each went out and got each other a new Valentine’s Day card, but we sent both cards to each other. So instead of just getting one Valentine, we each got two and we each wrote “read this one first” on the old card. Mommy wrote Daddy a poem in the second card and Daddy sent Mommy a paper journal, because he called me Pandora for all the secrets I kept hidden from him because I was so shy around him.
Then Daddy took another big step and asked what I was doing the weekend after Valentine’s Day. He planned a trip to come up and see me at college. I was so nervous waiting for him to arrive! I had to sit through my vocal seminar thinking that at any moment he was going to call me and tell me he was in Decorah! When he finally did call, I drove to his hotel room to meet him face to face for the first time. Your Daddy hid behind the door as he opened it, and I told him it wasn’t fair since I knew he’d already seen me through the security window. We hugged and Daddy had brought me a couple of gifts, one of which was a stuffed puppy named Aimee (I wanted a puppy pretty badly).
Mommy had the whole weekend planned, for the most part, because I didn’t want things to seem weird or for us to not have anything to do. We went to dinner in Marty’s on campus and then Daddy had to sit through a college talent show with Mommy and ALL OF HER FRIENDS. He was so brave! The next night, Daddy took me to a very nice dinner at La Rana Bistro and that night, Mommy and Daddy had their very first kiss. He tried to kiss me a couple of times in the hotel room, but Momma was shy and your Daddy was sweet. He walked me to my car though and there, with the snow falling around us so perfectly, we kissed and I said the words to him. Kiddo, it was like a scene from a movie…until a car honked at us!
Daddy had to leave the next day and it was very hard for both of us. I didn’t want to see him go, because I was so happy when he was around! The good thing was that his leaving didn’t mean we stopped talking. I think we talked even more after his visit. I even went down to spend my Spring Break with him in Davenport and I met his parents (very scary). Your Daddy was so very sweet to me; I didn’t want to stay every night in his parents’ house and make them think I was some sort of tramp or floozy, so Daddy got us a hotel room the first night I stayed so that I would be more comfortable. It is still a joke between your Daddy and I because I didn’t know where he was taking me and all I saw was a big Bennigan’s restaurant sign outside when we stopped and I couldn’t figure out why it had a fountain and a desk and smelled like chlorine (silly me, it was a Holiday Inn with a Bennigan’s inside).
Daddy kept visiting Mommy. He came to see my final choir concert at Luther and watched me graduate. He and I kept talking while I student taught in Des Moines that fall and he listened to me complain about my first job as a teacher (because it was hard and scary and meant I was an adult). We took our first (and to date, only) vacation together up to the Twin Cities. Then Daddy and I decided it was time to move in together. Daddy quit his job in Davenport and got a job here in Des Moines and we got our first home together, an apartment in West Des Moines.
I still remember the day that your Daddy asked me to marry him. Mommy knew he had her ring because she had accidentally picked it out at the mall. Mommy had a bad day at work and came home and was complaining a lot. I didn’t notice right away, but Daddy had cleaned the whole apartment up! He’d even made our bed! He finally had to ask me to stop moving around so much. He’d gotten me a gift and wanted me to open it. I saw a box from Build-a-Bear sitting on the bed. At first, I thought it was the box that was usually in my closet, but I opened it and inside, there was a new bear! It was the polar bear that I wanted! I was kind of surprised at first because I’d wanted to put the bear in an Eskimo outfit, but Daddy had dressed this bear in a tuxedo. Daddy told me to keep looking in the box, so I kept pulling things out. When I got to the bear’s birth certificate, I saw that the bear was named “Will you beary me?” I looked at Daddy and Daddy had the ring ready in his hands. Mommy started to cry a lot then. I don’t know if I actually said “yes” or not, but about a year and a half later, Mommy and Daddy got married in Independence, Iowa outside at the Heartland Acres Event Center. Two years from that day, I am sitting here, in Daddy’s and my first house, crying over the sweet memories and waiting for you to arrive.
I hope you’ll be just like your Daddy, Kiddo. I don’t know if I have the right words to tell you, him, myself, or anyone just how amazing your father is. He is sweet and loving and caring, kind and generous, tender, so incredibly understanding, and Kiddo, he’s funny. He makes Mommy laugh so much! He’s going to make you laugh too. Daddy is perfect for Mommy because he can calm her down, he knows the right things to say when she’s upset, he is supportive when she needs it, he knows when to leave her with her thoughts, he listens so well, and he’s constant. Daddy is pretty much as perfect as someone can get. He’s Mommy’s opposite in all the important ways! Daddy has given me the most amazing things Kiddo, and he’s helped me become me! Without Daddy, I couldn’t be this person, I wouldn’t be a wife, and I wouldn’t get to be your mother. I am so very lucky! I think back to that first weekend we met and it is almost like the weekend never ended. In some ways Kiddo, Momma still feels like she’s having a really long weekend with Daddy, interrupted by annoying moments of work and paying the bills. Soon, you’ll join our weekend fun! You’re going to love your Daddy so much Kiddo! I can’t wait to see you two together!
Love, your Momma

Friday, August 5, 2011

Yeah, I know...

I haven't updated in a while; I know it. Really, I'm not sure where the time is going lately and I've found that unless I write something down on a "to-do" list, I forget it. I may have forgotten that I already made a comment about my forgetfulness of late. Whatevs!

Here are the two missing Kiddo growth updates, for 32 and 33 weeks. I can hardly believe that we are in the seven week countdown.

32 Weeks: "By now, your baby weighs 3.75 pounds (pick up a large jicama) and is about 16.7 inches long, taking up a lot of space in your uterus. You're gaining about a pound a week and roughly half of that goes right to your baby. In fact, she'll gain a third to half of her birth weight during the next 7 weeks as she fattens up for survival outside the womb. She now has toenails, fingernails, and real hair (or at least respectable peach fuzz). Her skin is becoming soft and smooth as she plumps up in preparation for birth."

33 Weeks: "This week your baby weighs a little over 4 pounds (heft a pineapple) and has passed the 17-inch mark. He's rapidly losing that wrinkled, alien look and his skeleton is hardening. The bones in his skull aren't fused together, which allows them to move and slightly overlap, thus making it easier for him to fit through the birth canal. (The pressure on the head during birth is so intense that many babies are born with a conehead-like appearance.) These bones don't entirely fuse until early adulthood, so they can grow as his brain and other tissue expands during infancy and childhood."

The good news is that I think I can blame the LARGE weight gain in the past week to Kiddo's growth. Earlier this week, I wasn't really all that hungry and dropped a pound, but let me tell you, he's sure helping Mom make up for it today. I am ravenous! I had cereal for breakfast, pasta for lunch, and three Flav-o-Ice dohinkers already today and all I am thinking about at this moment is chocolate.

What else is new? Hmm. Well, Aaron and I painted the closet doors in Kiddo's room, completing the painting process (unless I decide to add or amend something). The "magnetic" paint was a pain in the ass and we now have some charming black stains on the carpet from it. It was a nightmare! It has the consistency of oil mixed with metal filings, beads up, flies everywhere, won't spread evenly, and refuses to budge from whatever it touches (walls, paint brushes, hands, etc). Also, its magnetism is negligible; I doubt it will hold a sheet of paper, considering the magnet we tried was barely hanging on. Seriously, if YOU ever consider using it, give me a call and I'll come punch you in the face. Your time would be better spent recovering from my punch. The good news is that the chalkboard paint on top of the magnetic nightmare looks pretty good. The only things left to do in the nursery now are to hang curtains (still trying to figure out what color we want) and assemble the rocking chair that we'll pick up this weekend.

Next week is the final week of summer school. Hallelujah! I get a one week reprieve from school and I plan to use it to just sit around a be lazy, maybe do some yoga, wash up Kiddo's diapers (since I still haven't done that yet) and generally satisfy my OWN needs for a change. I refuse to clean! (We'll see how that goes.) I'm hoping that at least one day involves a Top Model marathon. Maybe I'll work on filling in a piece or two of Kiddo's baby book or start working on birth announcements so they're ready to go when he does arrive.

Our final "birthing" class is this weekend. This is the one where we get to see the actual birthing suite. I made it through seeing the epidural needle and witnessing crowning and I think that the TV show One Born Every Minute is worse than what class has shown. The animated video of the c-section was worse than seeing a baby crown, I think. I've decided to labor as long as possible without the epidural and then see how I do with the "half-epidural" that I've been told I can get. I don't want to be drugged out of my mind with narcotics (nor do I want Kiddo to feel the effects) or have the meds wear off. I'm starting to get to a place where I'm just ready to have him here. All the planning and work has been great, but I want him out of my belly and in my arms already! I'm not a patient person, obviously.

Well, here are just a few photos to look at. I'm gonna go find something to eat (although I shouldn't).

Not perfect, but there's the closet doors. I took the little door guide off this morning, so they are a bit askew, but meh, it'll be fine.

We found a Mario place mat at Walmart once and decided to grab it. I have it hanging on the door to the room, since my ambition to paint the Mario 3 map has disappeared. Maybe I'll find that desire in a few weeks, maybe never. Later on, Aaron and I want to do something in the room with the lettering you see, like write or paint "Super Killian" somewhere.

Mario got a bit of a face lift. I decided to make his ear a little smaller and therefore had to adjust his hair as well.

Silly picture, I know, but I wanted to show off the giant Mario blanket we got for when he's older. I think it's the size of a full bed.

I may have already posted this, but here are the bouncer and swing set up in the living room.
Check it out! Auntie Emily and Uncle Eddie got Kiddo a basket of fun! We got some great blankets and some extra sheets for the crib, a few necessary books, a stuffed elephant, and they somehow found this adorable owl outfit that I had been eyeing at Babies R Us for weeks!