September 24, 2009

Too Much Information

If you get embarrassed easily or are a member of my family, I suggest you hit that tiny red X in the upper right corner of your web browser.

Why, you ask?

Because I’m about to write something that you probably don’t want to read.

Are you people gone yet?

No?  Suit yourselves.

Here goes:

MY CROTCH HURTS.

Seriously.  I can no longer walk without pain.  My groin, my inner thighs, my hips, my lower back and buttocks, all of my nether regions, HURT.  Terrible, awful, aching pain.

I cry getting out of bed every morning.  I cry when I have to go downstairs for any reason.  Sitting down and standing up are brutal.  Rolling over in bed at night is torture.

And!  I can feel the baby’s head turning inside my uterus.  His gigantic head is pressing on my cervix.  I just know it.  The nurse at the doctor’s office (I had my 35-36 week – depending on the doctor – appointment on Tuesday) told me, “Second babies do not drop until labor begins.”

“Oh, yeah?” I told her. “Well, I think you’re full of poo because I can feel his head against my cervix.  This baby has dropped lower into my pelvis.”

She rolled her eyes at me.  Oh, yes she did.  And I laughed.  Then I cried.  And she quickly left the exam room because HEAVEN FORBID a hormonal, nine-months-pregnant-woman should cry.

I had my ultrasound that same day and the baby’s estimated weight is 6 pounds, 13 ounces.  On August 31st, his weight was around 5 1/2 to 5 3/4 pounds.  He’s up almost one pound in 3 weeks.  Give or take 6-8 ounces they say. And then my doctor tells me, “He’ll now start gaining a pound a week.”

And I did the math.  Technically, with 4 weeks to go until my due date, I could have a ten pounder.  Like I could push ten pounds out of my vagina? I’m going to cry again.

This isn’t news to me, however.  I had an appointment last week, and Dr. B told me they will not let me go longer than 38 weeks.  Which, THANK GOD, I don’t know how I’d deal with this labor, knowing how large this baby might be!

While I have good childbearing hips (no lie, when I was pregnant with Dawson, the doctor at the time told me so), and could probably deliver just fine, my current doctor is concerned that I will tear and/or have labor troubles which could result in a C-section.  I decline the C-section.  Unless absolutely medically necessary of course.

So.  I asked again about this 38 weeks thing.

“Most likely,” he said, “You’ll be induced via pitocin between 37 and 38 weeks, 39 at the absolute latest.”

I’ll need to have one more ultrasound (in 2 weeks) and if this Monster Baby is over 8 pounds induction will be scheduled for the same week.

Yeah, so I could have a baby in 18 days or so.  Panic has set in around here.

Honestly?  I think the baby is trying to bust out right now.  I believe he will declare his own birthday.  For real.  The pains, the aches, the moodiness, the NESTING THAT IS MAKING MY HUSBAND CRAZY… yes, I think he’ll be here much earlier.  And I am freaking out.

As long as the baby doesn’t decide to come before Dawson’s birthday party this weekend.  That’s all I ask.

Okay, that, and an end to this CROTCH PAIN.

September 20, 2009

Where Have I Been, You Ask?

I’ve been pregnant.  I’ve been living life.  I have so much to blog about, yet I cannot decide where to begin.

I realize I haven’t written very many “real” posts since the trio of pregnancy (“yes I have pre-eclampsia, wait, no I don’t have pre-eclampsia”) posts, and of course my tribute to my adorable, now 5-year-old son.

Truth be told, there has been so much going on in my life that little time is left for actual blogging.  I have reminders on post-it notes, and napkins, with blog post prompts and ideas.  I’ve got messages popping up in Google calendar reminding me to write about Dawson’s first day of school (September 1st) his first day riding the school bus (September 9th), his 5th birthday (and his upcoming belated birthday party on the 26th), as well as news from my doctor that I will be induced in about 3 weeks (there goes my natural childbirth plan; right out the hopital window).

I just cannot find the time to get it all down.

Doug has been working crazy shifts the last three weeks, leaving me to manage working from home, making sure Dawson gets to school (with all the signed forms, book orders and magazine selling fundraiser orders in his backpack), organizing myself for MOPS meetings (I’m on the Steering Team), volunteering a few hours at church and many other important things.  Like bill paying.  And house cleaning.

And oh my gosh, the damn laundry!  And…AND!!! The nesting.  It has begun.  Sorting baby clothes, trying to figure out the best layout for the room Dawson and Baby will share.

Did I mention we ordered a glider and ottoman from Target?  We did.  It arrived last Wednesday.  The gigantic box is still in the hallway, its contents waiting to be assembled.  But, my husband, working the insane shifts (sometimes 8 a.m.-4 p.m., sometimes 10 a.m. – 6 p.m., others Noon-8 p.m., and today 6 a.m. to 2 p.m.), which I cannot keep straight, keeps him busy and what little time he has available is spent in the garden picking the massive harvest of tomatoes that we cannot seem to preserve fast enough.  We’ve had to enlist the help of my mother-in-law.  Partly because we’ve run out of freezer space.

I’ve managed to take tons of photos, which currently reside in Flickr, and I hope to post some soon.

Oh, and Dawson started soccer two weeks ago.  Yesterday he scored his first goal!  He was so excited.  I’m so proud of the child.  He amazes me.

So yeah.  I’ve been busy (like you haven’t, right?  I know.  I KNOW!).  And it’s only going to get busier.

Deep breath.

I’m working on the blogging.  I am.  Please be patient with me.  I will get back into the groove.  Eventually.

Holy Smokes.  This post was insane.  It’s only fitting, I suppose.  I feel insane myself…!

September 16, 2009

Dear Dawson,

Today, you are five years old.  I cannot begin to tell you how this blows my mind.  Five years ago you were born at 2:53 p.m., weighing 7 pounds, 8 ounces, and measuring 18 1/2 inches from beautiful head to tiny feet.

2004

Watching you grow up has been a joy, but is sometimes challenging.  Over the last year you’ve transformed from my little guy into a big boy.  You are a passionate and enthusiastic child, with an infectious joie de vivre that infects everyone in your presence.

2005

You love to be outside, exploring nature and investigating every creature and critter; from birds to bugs.  A few weeks ago we saw a green caterpillar crawling on the railing of the deck and you exclaimed, “He’s so green!  And cute!  And tiny!”  The smile on your face was priceless, as though this was your first encounter with a caterpillar.

2006

You are motivated by a desire to learn, often asking questions about things you don’t understand.  You have the discipline and patience to focus your energy on particular skill or project, and I noticed this while you were playing your Transformers video game on the Nintendo DS.  After you vented your frustrations while figuring out what to do, you kept playing the game until you mastered the skill, and then went beyond what you already achieved.  Each time you reached a new level you were so proud of yourself.  “I did it, Mom!” I heard you shout.  “I did it!”

2007

Occasionally, your passionate nature can lead to rebelliousness and you do not like when your father and I discipline you.  You are an independent child, someone who must do things on his own time frame.  You do not like to be rushed.  This was made clear from the way you came into the world.

Doctors induced labor on a Tuesday and you decided you would not be told when to be born.  Instead, you waited until Thursday to make your grand debut. To this day, you hate to be told what to do.  You’re a very good kid, and you listen to what your dad and I say, but you make sure to do things your very own way.

My biggest challenge as a parent is struggling to find the appropriate discipline methods.  I never want to break your incredible spirit. I aim to guide you in making good decisions and to instill in you the values my parents taught me.

2008

You are bursting with energy, and you thrive on competition.  Each day after the mailman brings our mail, you jump up and say, “I’ll race you to the mailbox, Mom!” or “Last one there is the rotten egg!”  Of course you win because your skinny legs are much quicker than mine.  I am forever the rotten egg when it comes to mailbox racing.

You are a warm-hearted child.  You care about the feelings of others and you love to offer hugs to make people feel happy.  When someone is sad you try to cheer them up with your adorable smile and charming blue eyes.  On the first day of 4-year-old kindergarten you said to me, “Now, don’t cry, Mom.  I’m going to have so much fun!  Don’t cry, okay?  I love you so much.”  And I didn’t cry.  Well, not until a week later when you got on the school bus for the first time.  It was difficult to watch a piece of my heart ride off without me.

2009

Your manners are impeccable.  You are polite and courteous and never forget to say “please” or “thank you” or “your welcome” and when you are speaking to adults, you always open your conversation by saying “excuse me”.  Last week we went to the library and another girl sneezed.  I was so proud when I heard you say “God Bless You” and the Librarian remarked on how well-mannered you are.

Several times each day you’ll come by me and ask for a hug or kiss, and my heart melts when I hear you say things like, “I just love you so much, Mom!”  It’s moments like these that make me want to freeze time.  You’re growing up so fast.  It feels like just yesterday I was holding you in the hospital, clumsily trying to nurse.  I remember looking into your eyes and thanking the Lord for my little miracle.  Oh, how I wish I had a rewind button.

I love your laugh.  I love when you giggle at funny things.  I love that you look forward to reading books with me before bed time.  I love that you are so excited to be a big brother.  But most of all, I love you very, very much.  You’ll always be my baby.

Happy Birthday, Doodlebug!

Love,

Mom

September 14, 2009

Too Sad to Blog

I powered up the computer, intent on actually blogging…and then I saw the tragic news:

Patrick Swayze died.  He was 57 years old. My aching heart is breaking into a million pieces.  When I was just a little girl, my aunt let me and my cousin watch Dirty Dancing (against my mother’s wishes, of course) and I fell in love with Johnny Castle immediately.  I wanted to be Baby so much that I rewound the last scene in the movie over and over and over again, until I had all the steps just right.

Years later I loved him again in the movies Ghost and Roadhouse.

Rest in peace, Patrick.  I miss you already.