The Scoop

Yesterday was the counted-down-to due date. I also happened to have a doctor’s appointment that day. It proved to be rather interesting and changed my plans a bit.

As he did the ultrasound, he said, “Do you remember what he was weighing last week?”

“Mm. I don’t know,” I said, “I think it was almost eight pounds.”

“Hmm,” was his response. “This shows him at about 10 pounds.”

WHAA-UUT?

I don’t put too much stock on those ultrasound weight estimates. I’ve read often that they can easily be off a pound in either direction, and sometimes as much as two pounds. Still, having already seen his head measuring fairly big all along, confronting the possibility that he might also be ten pounds was a bit . . . scary.

At the beginning of my appointment I had said that I still didn’t want to be induced, but that I thought much more than a week late and I might have lost my mind completely, so I suggested we give him another week to come on his own and then, if he still hadn’t, induce me next Friday. Now I began to rethink that plan a bit. Guy (my CNM) said that the fluid looked a little lower than he would like it to be and wanted me to have a non-stress test. The test basically is like being hooked up to the heart monitor they use when you are in labor. They monitor baby’s heart rate for twenty minutes. They like to see at least four movements from baby during that time with accompanying acceleration in the heart rate. They also check that the heart isn’t dipping below some baseline.

Anyway, little fella (or perhaps I should say “big fella”) complied nicely and moved around enough to get the test done in twenty minutes. His heart looked good and gave no real cause for worry, so Guy said I could go another week if I wanted, but that I’d need to come in again on Monday for another non-stress test.

“Well,” I said, “If we are at the point that we need to keep checking if baby is all right inside me, then I think I’d prefer to just get him safely out, so how about, if he hasn’t come by Monday, that I come in for an induction rather than just another non-stress test . . . especially considering he might be ten pounds.”

Guy agreed that was a fine plan, so there you have it. There is an end in sight to this madness. I admit I would still really prefer going into labor on my own, and the weekend would be a perfect time for it, but being overdue isn’t quite so overwhelmingly frustrating when you know it won’t go on forever. This baby is coming by Monday whether he wants to or not.

In the mean time, today is a lovely day. The kids have school off for some reason and other than some conflict about what toys were allowed to attend a toy part Daisy was hosting for the girls, things have been quite lovely. Abe helped me carry the cradle up from the basement and everyone helped wipe it down with tons of baby wipes, then Jesse had a grand time rocking sock monkey to sleep in it; my sister Shannon is flying in from TX with a buddy pass she got from a friend. She is bringing her baby who I have not yet met. My sister Megan is driving down from ID, and we plan on having a fun sisters’ night tonight (minus Kathy who is in Scotland – blast her). Ideally I’d go into labor tonight after the excitement . . . but if not, conference weekend is always great and we’ll see this new little guy on Monday!

My Internet is Down and I Can't Get My Cell Phone to Let Me Type Anywhere but in the Heading, so That is Today's Post. Sorry :(

D-Day Minus 1

Well, this is just getting downright ridiculous. I’ve never been one to be fooled by false labor, and somehow I’ve always prided myself on that . . . which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard myself say because apparently I just hadn’t really experienced much false labor. How can you pride yourself on that? I remember when I was in labor with Daisy a girl was coming in to the hospital at the same time as me to see if she was in labor. It was her FIFTH time coming in. I thought, “For goodness sakes. Just wait ‘til the contractions really hurt!” Mean. Poor girl. I obviously knew nothing. I do recall with both Penny and Jesse having a few bouts of intense enough Braxton Hicks contractions, that I started to hope they were going to turn into the real thing, but last night, AGAIN, I had such “real” feeling contractions, that I was sure it was finally it. From 3:00 am to 4:00 am they were intense enough that staying in bed was pointless. I got up and packed a few things, brushed my teeth, put in contacts, etc. Then, they petered out. I tried to go back to sleep, but absolutely couldn’t, so, at 5:20 I got up, checked email, etc. to kill some time, then put on my running clothes and headlamp (yes, I feel silly putting on a headlamp – like I am off to go spelunking, but it is just so cars see me in the dark, and trust me, all the early morning runners out there who have an ounce of sense have on lights and reflective gear . . . so it is totally hip), and I headed out for a run. Mike tried to play the part of the concerned husband for a minute by saying, “Are you sure you aren’t going to have a baby out there?” I told him I’d bring my cell phone just in case, but I think he knew, as well as I knew, that if anything would definitely NOT put me in labor . . . in fact . . . probably stop labor for me . . . it would be a nice run of several miles. I felt a little silly out there – running – when two hours before I’d been certain I was in labor, but, the stars were lovely!

I keep thinking of our air conditioner and how it didn’t work right our first summer here. You’d turn it on, but the signal wasn’t enough to really make the fan start spinning, so you’d have to walk outside, poke a stick in the AC unit, and manually spin the fan. If you didn’t twist it quite hard enough, it would give an effort, almost catch, but then give up and stop spinning. It took a good hard spin to kick it into full whirling and spinning “on” mode. That’s what I feel like. Like the signal keeps getting sent to my uterus to start labor – to begin contractions, so it gives an effort, but the signal just doesn’t push quite hard enough, so it dies back out.

Time

NOTICE!! THE PICTURES BELOW ARE OLD PICTURES. THEY ARE NOT PICTURES OF THIS BABY.

There. I was innocently putting these pictures on here as I typed my thoughts out in this post. Then I realized how they looked – what with me being so close to my due date and all, and I realized people might simply scroll through, see the pictures, and begin congratulating me on the birth that has not yet occurred. Now, back to my real post.

I was looking through some old pictures yesterday and it struck me what a strange thing time is – how much can change in such a small amount of time.

For example, first, I saw this picture of me from a year ago at this very time:

I was running “The Dirty Dash” with several of my family members. It was a silly 10K race full of ridiculous and often very muddy obstacles. It was a very fun race, but mostly, as I looked at this picture, it seemed so strange to me to think that here I am, just a year later, awaiting the birth of a new child. At that point (last year) I actually had no plans of being pregnant again any time in the very near future, and it just felt odd to look at me there – laughing in a muddy race – and to think, “That Nancy had no idea that in exactly a year’s time, she’d be having another baby. Crazy.”

Then, by chance, I flipped open one of our photo albums right to this point (nearly three years ago):

It kind of overwhelmed me. I mean here I am – grumpy and complaining that I won’t go into labor, but hardly really thinking about what “going into labor” means. It means that in a matter of a few hours, your entire world, your entire eternity changes. Looking at these pictures from Jesse’s birth made me realize, “My goodness! At any moment, there will suddenly be a whole entire REAL new person here. He will have his own perfectly formed little body, his own tiny hands and face. He will be a real and actual individual all set to live out his life here . . . and it will just suddenly happen . . . all in one day.”

Anyway, all of that just had me thinking how crazy things are, how much things change, and how hard it is for us to really wrap our minds around all the things that are bound to keep changing and happening in our lives. Crazy crazy stuff.

We Shouldn’t Have . . .

But we did!

I hold myself to some rather strict and totally self imposed rules about holidays – you know, when it is officially OK to listen to Christmas music, when to decorate for certain holidays, etc. But all those rules keep being cast aside as time goes on.

For example, I usually impose the no-listening-to-Christmas-music-until-the-night-before-Thanksgiving rule. Clearly that doesn’t make an ounce of sense since, if there is going to be a rule at all, it should be to wait and let Thanksgiving have its day, but for years my sisters and I used to get together to make pies that night. Often it was snowing and with all the festivities in the air, it seemed a good time to start up the music. It isn’t that I don’t love Christmas music. I love it too much, and I don’t want it somehow corrupted and associated with the wrong times and memories. However, last year, when I came home from a snowy run in early November and the girls were dancing to Christmas music, my resolve faltered and we started the season early.

That is what just happened with Halloween. Oct. 1st is the day the kids and I decorate, but with no baby to ring in the weekend, we needed some extra cheer, so out came the Halloween décor.

And, I have to say, it has made me quite happy to have it feel like we will be bringing home a baby to the holiday season and fall, cornstalks and pumpkins, and tiny little glowing orange lights. Besides. Look at this:

 

That’s right. A very tiny patch of autumn looking leaves on our backyard Maple. So, I feel totally justified in our early decorating.

As for baby. I have been absolutely certain his arrival was imminent multiple times this past week. Always I am wrong. Mike seems confused that I am so upset and surprised by this since, in four consecutive pregnancies, I have made it both to and then past my due date.

We have actually both fully agreed that it would truly be the very best timing if baby waited past his Thursday due date and came this weekend. Mike has a crazy week of work, and, on Friday, my sister Shannon and her baby Lila (who I have never yet seen) are flying in for the weekend. It would be perfect to have a fun sisters’ night on Friday and then have baby before Shannon goes so she can see him. Yes, it is agreed this weekend would be perfect. And I’ll keep trying hard to trick myself into believing that any of those things actually make me want to wait that long.

Sunday Miscellany

Jesse really likes to go to church and kept asking if it was time to go today. He was plenty eager when I finally said we could put on his church clothes, but then he saw the shirt – an old one of Abe’s: a bit of a Hawaiian print, plenty cool. He began shaking his head, stumbling backwards and crying, “No! Not that one!!” I told him he was silly. It was his church shirt, and began putting it on him, at which point he began sobbing. Not like a tantrum, like a sob of utter despair and terror. Mike and I just looked at each other like, “What on earth?” “Should I make him wear it?” I said. Mike shrugged, “Maybe it scares him,” but, in time, we had him calmed down and distracted enough that he seemed to have forgotten whatever issue it was he took with his shirt.

It was at that moment that four year old Penny walked in, took one look at Jesse and said loudly, “Why is Jesse wearing a girl shirt?”

It gave Mike and I a good laugh. Penny has never paid any attention to anything Jesse has worn, so that chances of that statement just after such trauma over the shirt any way just seemed too good.

Also, Mike deserves a punch. Today at church the Sunday school teacher asked one of those questions that have such an easy answer that nobody actually wants to raise their hand to answer it, so, the room was a little silent. Finally I took it upon myself to hesitantly raise my hand and give the expected answer. Mike leaned over to me after and whispered, “That’s why you haven’t had your baby yet. You were meant to be here this Sunday to give that comment.”

Today’s Post: Cancelled

Yes yes, I’m still here. But it got late. The younger kids went to bed early and Mike was still out running errands, and it came down to doing a real blog post or playing Yahtzee with Abe. Playing Yahtzee with Abe seemed like choosing the better part, so that is what we did.

Goodnight!

Oops. Almost Forgot.

Oh yes, I’m checking in daily, aren’t I. Here it is 8:03 pm and my check in almost all forgotten. Well, never fear (or hope), I am still as here as can be. Maybe slightly less here? It is hard to be sure.

Let’s see. A moment from today. Think. Oh! This gave me a chuckle. My little sister Megan called me last night to tell me something about some super nova (should that be capitalized?) exploding . . . about how it was supposed to explode that very night and ROCK the Northern hemisphere with earthquakes and the like.

“Wait,” I said, “What is this? Where did you hear this?”

“Everywhere!” She replied, “It’s all over the news! . . . Well, I mean, it’s like conspiracy theory end-of-the-world news, but, you know, the seven seals are going to open and stuff.”

So, basically, she was calling to tell me about the beginning of the apocalypse. I knew that couldn’t be good, and I was hardly in the mood to deal with the apocalypse.

“Oh geez,” I said, “That’s not good.”

“Well,” she continued, “I won’t keep you, but just, you know, fill your bathtubs with water, and have your kids all sleep by you tonight. Or, better yet, have them all sleep in between door jambs.”

We laughed and I assured her I would be doing just that.

Then this morning here was our tiny texted conversation:

Me: Hope your kids slept as comfortably in the door jambs as mine did.

Megs: Ha your funny. I put them all next to sliding glass doors.

And that was that. Today’s moment (and partially last night’s, I guess). I’m glad the old exploding (and apparently prophesied) super nova didn’t wreak havoc last night after all. It’s all I can do to get everything ready for new baby. Of course, maybe that’s why he’s being a no-show – he has no intention of showing up in the midst of end-of-the-world shenanigans.

39 Weeks

Status: Dilated 3 cm. Fairly uncomfortable. Not in labor.

Question: Wouldn’t it seem like running while dilated 3 cm. would send a person into full blown labor?

Answer: Yes, it would seem that way, but things are not always as they seem they should be.

Conclusion: Oh well, even though it is still a little early for such things, maybe the kids and I will put up Halloween decorations this Saturday.

Anything else? What is that supposed to mean? What I’ve said isn’t good enough? Sheesh. Well, I will admit that I might have hinted that, surely, there would be all kinds of spectacular things coming out of me with these daily posts . . . but what’s a girl to do? Apparently I can’t do spectacular on demand

I know. What if I do like I did that one time when I posted something that was going on around here each day for a week? Let’s try that. All right. Hold on. It is 1:00 pm. Let me get the camera and see what is going on.

I’m back. Not much. Laundry is washing. That seemed pretty boring. And Penny and Jesse are both asleep. Penny won’t fall for nap time too often anymore, but, fortunately, she has fallen for nap time this very day – right here beside me on my bed. So, that’s all that is going on right now:

Shhh. Don’t wake her. I’m going to go accomplish some stuff.

Today’s Update

Last night Abe and Daisy asked if tonight for dinner we could have pumpkin muffins and Ramen noodles. I might have to muster some serious energy to pull off the muffins, but Ramen noodles? Yes. I think I can manage.

Mike came home early today. He is tearing apart our basement to get things ready for the two new bedrooms we plan on finishing down there. He has pulled the three oldest kids into helping. I keep seeing old 2x4’s and broken pieces of sheetrock bouncing up and down past our living room window as the kids haul stuff through the backyard and out to the waiting trailer to be taken away. It will be great having the bedrooms (even though to get to one you will still have to go through an unfinished part of the basement). We currently have five kids in two bedrooms and with another on the way, well, yes, more bedrooms will be lovely. The only problem with projects is they make everything very crazy while they are being done. I’ve mentioned that I want everything all orderly for baby’s arrival, but order and “putting in new bedrooms” don’t really go hand in hand. So, I will just have to settle for patches of order and be grateful that I don’t really have to look at the chaos that is in our basement most of the time.

I went running today with Penny and Jesse in the jog stroller. When people see a nine months pregnant woman running with two toddlers they do not, as you might hope, look at her with awe and admiration. They look at her with something bordering more on . . . horror. Still, I don’t mind. I’m glad I can still get out . . . and mad it doesn’t put me in labor, but, it has been nice weather and the three of us have found a nice little 3.5 mile loop that I can handle at this point of pregnancy and that also allows them a stop halfway to feed ducks at a duck pond.

So, there you have it. Eight days to go (or more or less) and me now signing off to make pumpkin muffins so dinner can be all fed to little ones before Abe’s flag football game this evening.

Armadillos and an Irritable Uterus

My friend Jami recently commented that her doctor had explained that all the extra pre-term labor she was experiencing with her fourth had to do with the fact that the more pregnancies you have the more “irritable” your uterus gets. Well. That makes sense. If I was a uterus and someone kept forcing me to house a kicking, growing baby, and to stretch like 8 million times my normal size, I’d get pretty irritable too. . . .

Unfortunately, as Jami also pointed out, all those contractions with no baby made for more than just an irritable uterus! Funny. Earlier today I was feeling quite calm and thinking, “You know, usually I am so anxious and tense waiting for labor these last few weeks of pregnancy, but this time I feel totally fine and patient. Nine or so days is nothing. Either way baby will likely be here in two short weeks, and I have plenty of happy and busy things to be doing in the mean time. What was my problem before? I can wait just fine. Piece of cake. Baby will come when he will come.”

Then, two clean bathrooms later, I was a totally different person. My thoughts were more like, “I am so sick of doing stuff. I don’t want to clean anymore . . . or relax . . . or ANYTHING. Am I just going to be pregnant and wondering for NINE MORE DAYS!!? Clearly that is ridiculously impossible. I am going to go mad.” And then I didn’t even clean bathroom number three. Shouldn’t TWO clean bathrooms be good enough for this baby?

On a positive note: it turns out that it is totally fine that I am a bad mother who rarely does crafts, etc. with my kids. If I did, well, I might tell them to make a butterfly or a rainbow or some such. Then there would be no . . . armadillos.

As I was getting the older kids ready for school this morning, Penny was, as is often the case, snipping and cutting and taping with blue painter’s tape. When I saw what she had done later, I said, “Penny! That looks like an armadillo!”

“That’s because it is,” she replied.

We’ve never ever lived in any armadillo country. I don’t know that I have ever actually seen a real armadillo. “How did you know what an armadillo looked like?” I asked.

“I just knowed” was her reply.

So, clearly it has worked out just fine that I have left them to their own tiny little devices.

Thank goodness.

Genius . . . Checked

Today my “genius” is, unfortunately, totally checked. In fact, this post is nothing but a simple check in. It is a busy day. Busy busy busy. (I hope that, as you read “busy busy busy” you were able to say it in the voice of the little magician fellow from the Frosty the Snowman cartoon. That’s how I said it in my head as I typed it anyway).

The good news is, after today, I am all unencumbered by responsibility and plans. My September obligations will be complete and I won’t have to worry about trying to call 100 people to cover 100 things for me as I race to the hospital in labor. Wouldn’t that be clever of my little body if it knew that well enough that it held off just long enough for me to finish all of this stuff, and then sent me into labor right tonight? That would be clever. It would also be unlikely based on my baby having history.

Anyway, off to round up some stuff for Shmactivity Shmays (that’s “Activity Days” in shm language).

Loves,
Nancy

Sunday Morning Walks with Dad

As much as we all know they should be, and would very much like them to be, Sundays, generally speaking, are not a day of total peace and calm reflection. Don’t get me wrong. Sundays are one of my very favorite days of the week. I love after church when Mike and the kids and I are all in the kitchen pulling out snacks and lunch items and happily joking and chatting, I love mellow evenings going for walks, I love the occasional dinners with family. But, Sunday mornings in particular are usually fairly hectic. Last minute lesson preparations, rounding up diaper bags and shoes, getting everyone ready and hair done for three small girls, etc. Whew.

That is why I love so much that Mike often takes the kids for a Sunday morning walk while I get myself all . . . well, I don’t know . . . in calm Sunday mode maybe? I usually get ready early then work on kids. Inevitably by that point, the house is a mess and I still have something or other to do on a lesson, etc., but it is just then when Mike usually swoops in and rounds all the kids up and out they head for a nice little stroll. I’m left in peace and quiet to finish what I need to finish, tidy up a bit, and maybe even relax.

It doesn’t always happen. We’ve had times in our marriage when Mike has had to be gone to meetings long before I even wake up, and times even now when Mike is out of town, or has a lesson to prepare himself; and before too long it will be too cold and church will start too early for such a luxury as a morning walk. Still, I have quite appreciated Mike doing this occasionally. This morning as they headed out I stopped them to snap a few photos. Mostly I just thought it was funny seeing my girls all done up for church with very non church shoes on to head out for walking. And I thought it was cute that they all had on little Converse this morning.

(Note in this picture that Abe had clearly not yet gotten ready for church. He loves those cut off shorts. More than once I’ve had to put the kabosh on him wearing them to school).

Also, when they aren’t fighting, I love love Abe and Daisy interacting together. They think things are so funny and laugh away at their great ideas. I heard them laughing in the kitchen the other day. Turns out they were making pirate treasure maps. Here was Daisy’s:

Oh how they laughed about “evil island” and “extra evil island” and if you don’t think they thought “big chicken” was a hilariously terrifying thing to add, well, let me tell you. Funny.

Yesterday I heard them chatting again.

Daisy: “Abe, would you rather be a spoon, a fork, or a baby bottle?”
Abe: “Umm. A fork.”
Daisy: “Wrong answer. If you would have said ‘baby bottle’ I would have given you a dollar.”
Abe: “No you wouldn’t have. If I would have said ‘baby bottle’ you would have just changed the right answer to something else.”
Daisy: “Abe, no I wouldn’t, but anyway, would you rather be a division problem, a multiplication problem, a subtraction problem, or an addition problem?”
Abe: “A multiplication problem.”

I don’t recall what was said after that. It went on in the same manner, but it just makes me laugh listening to the things they come up with. Who on earth wonders what kind of math problem you’d choose to be? And how was Abe so confident in his answer? I’d really have to consider . . . in fact, I think that should probably be a question on some sort of personality test. I’m sure there is plenty to analyze from it. And, you know, probably out of the fork vs. spoon and baby bottle question as well.

Day Three Post

I had very real hopes that my “posting every day ‘til baby” was going to be cut shockingly short. Last night found me waking with contractions off and on through the night until, by 5:00 am, they were so uncomfortable and so closely spaced that there was absolutely no hope of sleeping through them. Had this been a first time pregnancy for me, I probably would have headed off to the hospital as they were coming consistently and more than every 5 minutes. Luckily, having had a baby or two (or five), I recognized that they just weren’t quite as horribly painful as they needed to be. Still, they were so consistent and showed no signs of stopping, so, by 8:00 am I was pretty sure that they would eventually intensify enough to send us hurtling off to the hospital. I was telling Mike that I was afraid his agenda for the day might have to be put aside and even telling the kids (who have been asking about labor and contractions and how one knows a baby is about to be born) that it could possibly be the day. And it all seemed quite lovely. Nearly all of my labors have started in the very middle of the night and have been intense enough to send me to the hospital in an hour or two. I know that sounds great. Nobody wants a crazy long labor. But I was actually quite enjoying the idea of a labor progressing at a little more leisurely pace. It was morning. I could get the kids ready and things packed. Maybe even tidy the house a bit. Then, the contractions just . . . stopped. Just like that. False alarm. False labor. Although, I do feel a little like, “false” labor doesn’t give everyone dealing with it enough credit. There was a lot of something going on, and I was thoroughly exhausted by morning time. It makes it sound like you’ve been a fool – duped by a good trick. As much as I feel bummed that it didn’t progress, it is interesting to me to recognize that my body must have some inkling that the end is near. It must, somehow, know that soon it will be time to ship this little camper out into the world. Still, it is odd. With Abe I truly wasn’t aware of so much as a single braxton or a hick. There was simply nothing until cold hard labor. But with each additional child my body seems to do more and more trial runs and part of me thinks, “What’s with all the practicing? Surely you already know how to do this?”

Anywho, the idea of these posts wasn’t necessarily meant to be just a cataloguing of pregnancy symptoms day after day, but here it is 9:00 pm and it is time to go watch “Thor” with my husband. That’s right. You heard me. Thor. I don’t think it is just home video footage of our old giant dog. I think it is something else. I’m sure it will be grand. How could it not with a name like that? And grand or not, I am ready to go snuggle up to my favorite person and put this tiring day to rest. Plus, Mike is making us shakes at this very moment. So, it is clearly just as well that I am still here for tonight.

No Check to my Genius

“Expect a most agreeable letter, for not being overburdened with subject (having nothing at all to say), I shall have no check to my genius from beginning to end.” – Jane Austen

Isn’t that great? And it feels like exactly what I wish would happen here, and what, under certain circumstances with me, actually could happen because sometimes I do say my best and most genius stuff when I have nothing at all to say. Unfortunately, today, my “nothing to say” really does feel like, well, nothing to say. It feels kind of like, “Oh dear, in a moment of . . . crazy, I committed to posting every single day . . . and now I need to post something even though I’m all dried up on thoughts.” What a shame. Still, I’m hopeful that at least one or two of these posts-til-baby-comes posts end up being “most agreeable” with my genius all unchecked and what not.

At the moment, however, I am super tired and since Jesse is sleeping and Penny is . . . kind of sleeping, I think I will just go take a tiny little nap.

*Note* I did actually clean out the blanket/linen/kids’ swim stuff closet upstairs today, as well as my two nightstand dresser drawers. I also looked fruitlessly through a name book that I found in one of those dresser drawers, so today hasn’t been all about laziness. No sir.

Anywho, keep that wonderful top quote in mind, and maybe that will happen one of these days. Or, also, maybe it won’t. Ah well. Here is a cute picture of Goldie to end with something.

I am Going to Blog . . .

EVERY SINGLE DAY until this baby comes. Wait. Why would I even say that. Is it a promise? A threat? What do I even hope to accomplish by doing that? Will it simply pass the time? Because heaven knows I have more than enough to be doing to “pass the time”. And what if I change my mind? What if I don’t want to blog one day and the absence of a post makes everyone assume I have gone off to have a new baby and so they all start saying, “I can’t believe you are off having your baby!” and really I am not off having a baby at all? I am just grumpily sitting in the kitchen eating Halloween Oreos and chocolate frosted cake donuts and Quaker Oh’s cereal because I’m NOT in labor.

Well, let’s just hope all those things don’t happen (only, the part about me eating Oh’s and cake donuts and Oreos already happened . . . today and yesterday. Luckily the kids discovered the Oh’s this morning – half hidden behind the Corn Chex – and they are now all gone).

Anyway. So. Here we are. With me. Blogging every day. What should we talk about (in a rather one sided conversation sort of way)? Well, yes, I suppose we could talk about just how long this madness of every day blogging is likely to last. It could last two weeks. I am currently two weeks away from that magical due date. So . . . it could also last longer than two weeks. Shudder. It could last less though. Today my CNM asked me if I wanted to be started. Just like that. I could be started if I wanted. Only . . . now that I know I could . . . and even though I said at the first of this pregnancy that I thought it might be a grand idea . . . suddenly I don’t want to be again. Which is weird because I also really WANT to have this baby right this minute. Hmm. I told him I’d wait it out ‘til my due date (should it come to that) and then decide how much more I could handle.

The thing is, it would actually be perfect to be a few days late as far as life is concerned. I’ve mentioned I have “stuff” to do. Activity Days I’m in charge of (my partner is about to undergo brain surgery, which, understandably trumps labor), I have agreed to teach Abe’s primary class this week and do a little presentation for someone in YW’s. The kids would love if we got Halloween decorations all up first (as we traditionally do on Oct. 1st), and there is still so so much to clean and organize. Only, I nested myself all out. Really. My forced nesting backfired. It feels kind of like how I felt 2/3rds of the way through my last marathon when I had run the first half way way too fast. I had pretty much nothing left to give other than making it to the end. That is kind of me now. I did a crazy amount of organizing and cleaning every second last week. Then our basement flooded. And, as I helped drag wet boxes of clothes and suitcases and Christmas wrapping paper outside to dry out at 3:00 am I decided I had no more desire or drive to do anything. I decided I wanted to go have my baby immediately if only so that I could sit in the hospital for two days with nothing expected of me. And maybe that is the real reason for blogging every day . . . because I am burnt out of doing what needs to be done. On a positive note, my windows are clean, my bathroom drawers and cupboards are organized, as well as the kitchen ones. What that has to do with having a baby is beyond me. And sadly, my hitting quit mode landed before I ever cleaned our showers or toilets. When I think of that, I think of the exact thing Jesse said this morning when he saw something interesting/possibly scary out his car window, “Oh my yikes!” Yes. Oh my yikes.

Well, we’ll chit chat more tomorrow. (And don’t go assuming I’m in labor unless this remains post free ‘til midnight). Farewell.

Halloween

I’m getting a bit excited to decorate for Halloween, but that is still a ways off and really neither here nor there (though those paper bag and bar-of-soap pumpkins my kids made last year were pretty great). BUT, tonight at dinner the kids were talking about trick-or-treating. Mike said, “I’m going to be giving out homemade caramel popcorn balls,” then he looked at me with eyebrows raised and added, “with needles in them.” I told him that that was interesting because I’d actually planned on giving out caramel apples filled with nails. Then I nearly started to cry because I was laughing so hard when I told Mike and the kids about how, one year, in elementary, the local hospital gave us special trick-or-treat bags that we could use and then take to the hospital afterwards to have our candy x-rayed. The kids didn’t seem to understand what on earth all of this was about (though my tears of laughter did make Abe and Daisy laugh), but that’s because they live in a safer time – a time when you don’t have to fear sweet old ladies filling homemade goodies with razors and nails for you to bite into, a time when you can safely trust in your pre-wrapped miniature Snickers and Reeses peanut butter cups. Only . . . oh dear. I just remembered I have a kid with peanut allergies. I guess Halloween can never truly be safe after all.

37 Weeks

Wasn’t I just barely typing that? Typing about me being 37 weeks . . . only with Jesse? It seems like it. Which is a good reminder to myself to be patient because, as much as one tends to go a little crazy upon reaching that “all is safe for delivery” stage of 37 weeks (crazy wanting and wishing for it to happen), the truth is that even if I still have another month of being pregnant, that month will come and go . . . as well as two plus years (as have come and gone since I was anxiously complaining that I would never go into labor with Jesse). And before I know it, this little person won’t be a newborn baby at all, but a wild little toddler running about the house demanding poptarts and crying to watch Blue’s Clues (I have to say, terrible as it sounds, the fact that Jesse has recently taken up a slight interest in TV absolutely thrills me).

I am anxious for this ones arrival and would really really rather not go late like I have with all four of my last babies (not the least of reasons being the fact that his head has been measuring at 40 week size for some time now!), but I feel like I am a little more practical about things this time around. Last time I was living in my mom’s basement and most of my earthly belongings were in storage. We hadn’t even purchased a home so I had much less that I was trying to organize and get ready. This time around I have a ridiculous list of projects (most of which don’t even improve the outer appearance of my home – boxing up clothes that are too small and crowding drawer space for my other five kids, organizing toys, cleaning out cupboards and closets). I also have several things I am supposed to be in charge of as far as my church calling with the Activity Day girls. I have a few evenings planned for dinner with friends, dates with Mike, etc. So, I am trying to gear up for patiently being pregnant through September.

Still, I am getting excited. I have been doing so much lately, as well as had some extra bouts of sickness with kids and sleepless nights with little people having nightmares, having accidents, etc. that I have felt truly just . . . completely exhausted. The idea of getting back to simply my normal routines of daily stuff that needs done (even if it needs done with a newborn in tow) seems a welcome relief.

Plus, I dug out all of my little tiny 0-3 and 3-6 month baby boy clothes today. I also went out and bought a few new packs of tiny onesies and the softest/cutest little blanket this morning. I have been washing and folding those puny little items today and it does make me feel very excited to imagine the tiny person I will soon be putting in those impossibly small clothes.

So . . . I guess . . . here’s to finishing out September with out collapsing in utter exhaustion, and to a healthy little boy coming very very soon (and can I add “mellow,” “non-spit-upping” and “excellent night sleeper” to that “healthy”? Yes, please).

Daisy

I don’t know why it is, but I can so often still see Daisy as the little two and three year old version of herself. I can picture her exact little smiles (with her top missing incisor – the one that never grew in), and her just lengthening strawberry blonde hair, and mostly, her tiny little personality.

Today I sent her up to get dressed and ready for the day. Mike and I were sitting on our bed chatting. We could see her at the top of the stairs where she’d come out of her room in different outfits and, unaware of our watching eyes, dance and model a bit in front of the mirror there. It made us smile, and it made me wish, once again, that my kids could just stay young and innocent and content forever – that they wouldn’t ever have to become teens and enter the phase of comparing and worrying. I like all the carefree happiness.

I Really Like When Mom Lets Me Cut One of Her Flowers

I Really Like Drinking Fountains