I did promise bladder stories

clear plastic needles of awful

And now it's time to deliver. (Heh. Deliver.) If you don't want to read stories about pee and broken bladders and other indignities, feel free to skip this. You've been warned.

It appears that I have become super refined because now my blood pressure tanks and causes me to pass out during and after childbirth, all refin-ed-ly. Jenny has offered to buy me smelling salts for a Christmas present, which I will ask people to fetch when I feel my faintness coming upon me again. (Name the movie!) She also informed me that the red raspberry leaf tea, which we'd both been drinking by the quart, lists "can lower blood pressure" as one of its benefits. We both had a good laugh about that.

Now let's talk about pee!

Remember last time after the Tiny Dark Lord's birth when my bladder swelled like a beach ball and I had to wear a rubber-band-MacGuyver'd Foley catheter at home for days? That was not my favorite. So as soon as people started putting IVs into me this time I was very conscious about my bladder and the need to keep it empty.

When they gave me the epidural, I asked if they were going to place a catheter.

Nurse: No, that's just for first-time moms. We will straight cath you instead when you need to go.

(Note from the future: [Blank] that [blank]. You tell her to give you a Foley NOW.) Except I didn't hear The Future speaking and I didn't even really know what the difference was and so I went with it.

So. I nearly passed out during the IV placement, I nearly passed out after the birth, and then after resting for a little while in my new Mother/Baby room, the nurses wanted me to get up and use the bathroom. But they were worried about me passing out, so they got on either side of me and had me goose-step into the bathroom while looking straight ahead. I was doing pretty well, right until they got me to the toilet. At which point I said, "Aaaaannnnd I'm going" and my knees buckled. Luckily there was a toilet handy to sit on. They had to pull the emergency cord and have people come in and it took like four of them to get me back up and in the bed.

They started pumping bags of IV fluid into me to get my blood pressure up, which took a long time. And they tested my blood to see if I needed a transfusion (I didn't). So now it's been hours since I emptied my bladder and the whole time I've been getting more and more fluid. Let's see if any 2nd-graders in the audience know where this is going.

After things calmed down, I started feeling like I needed to go and rang for the nurses to come help me. They got me on the toilet and then turned the sink faucet on, which I guess was supposed to help make me feel all tinkly. I'm surprised they didn't put my hand in warm water while they were at it. After a few unproductive moments, I told them that nothing was happening and I wanted a catheter.

Them: Maybe if you try to relax more.

Me: It's not working. I want a catheter.

Them: Well maybe you just don't need to go.

Me: Oh, I NEED to go. And so help me I will NOT get a broken bladder this time. I need this emptied now. I want a catheter.

So the nurses's assistant begrudgingly got me up on the bed and got out the straight cath, whereupon she filled the entire pee bucket or whatever it is.

Me: I told you I had to go. And I want the kind of catheter that I can wear all the time. I can't keep doing this mess all night.

Her: Um . . . I will talk to the nurse and tell her that's what you want.

Me: It IS what I want. I want that. You get why I want that, right?

(I learned later that the reason they kept going the straight cath route was that they apparently needed permission from my doctor to use a Foley. Do not ask me why this is.)

But no one came back, and soon I needed to go again. Rang the nurses's bell, this time both the nurse and her assistant came. They helped me on the toilet, which I knew was pointless. And then we sat. And sat and sat.

Me: This isn't working. My bladder is broken now. I need a catheter.

So they turn on the sink faucet again.

Me: Yeah . . . I promise that's not going to do it.

Them: Okay then we will just cath you right here.

And the nurse gives the straight cath to the flipping assistant, who tries to insert it while I'm sitting on the toilet. And she fails. Twice. Which is when I said The Word, which is when they looked at each other and said they would call my doctor and see about that Foley catheter.

Me: YES. THANK YOU. DO THAT. (Also, in my head: Bleep bleep *#$%&*^ @$ bleepity %!@*$&^.)

And then it turns out that they didn't have to call my doctor because it had been written in my chart all along that I could have one if I had problems going to the bathroom. (Kill . . . Kill . . . Kiillllllll!)

They got me on the bed and started placing the Foley, which was really uncomfortable. This is not surprising considering all the other crap they'd been stuffing up there all night. But when they finished, it still really hurt.

Me: Something's wrong. I don't think it's in all the way.

Them: No, we're done.  It's working.

Me: No. It feels like you're still putting it in. It is really uncomfortable.

Them: Huh. Well, it's in.

Me: This really, really hurts. Something is wrong.

Them: Huh. Look at the way the urine is kind of . . . spurting into the bag. Looks like you're having a bladder spasm.

Me: What does that mean?

Them: Um . . . your bladder got too full.

Me: I SAID! I SAID IT WAS!!!

And then I cried. And the overly-full spasm-ing bladder caused my uterus to start freaking out and hemorrhaging and they had to give me a shot of something to calm it down. So basically they broke everything because they wouldn't listen to me. And I will be mad about it for the rest of ever.

Moral of the story: The next time you are in the hospital and you have an IV and someone suggests a straight catheter, I want you to ask to see the catheter. Then grab it and STAB THEM IN THE EYE.

And now, some healing images (even though they are technically the reason why all this crap happened):

Little scallops hat--had to bribe him to wear it
long enough for me to take a picture.

He waits until after I put a clean outfit on him,
then turns his head and barfs all over it.
Told you this kid's dark.

The Birth Story (No Need for Installments)

It was only 8 hours, so this is just a one-parter, y'all!

Sunday night, Sep 29: I was too excited to sleep, and then I was too anxious about not sleeping to sleep. Kept switching beds and getting up to get a snack and doing absolutely ANYTHING I could think of to get some rest. None of it worked.

Monday, Sep 30: After less than 3 hours of sleep, called Labor & Delivery at 5am as directed, was told to come in at 6:30. Ate breakfast. Mother-in-law came over to stay with TDL. We drove to the hospital and checked in. Got started at 3cm dilated and 80%(?) effaced. Was already having small, early labor contractions.

7:00am: Nurse placed the IV, my blood pressure dropped and I almost passed out. (Watch for this, it will become a theme.)

Also, they spent at least 30 minutes asking me about my medical history and why are my labs from 2012 and why don't I have more current labs blah blah. If I'd arrived in actual labor and they'd wanted to spend all this time chatting about my medical history I really don't see how that would have gone well.

7:30am: Nurse started Pitosin at level 2 instead of the usual level 4 to see how that would work with the contractions I was already having. I got on the birth ball. GH took out his iPad and we watched some of the previous weekend's episode of Saturday Night Live. Was having "real" contractions, but they didn't require too much concentration.

8:30: My OB showed up and broke my water. And maybe the water of a few other people, since I pretty much kept flooding the room over the next hour. Things started picking up, and I put on my headphones and listened to my Hypnobabies tracks.

And then, back labor. Ugh. Kept trying all kinds of positions to ease the pressure on my back, but weirdly enough the one that seemed to work best (and resulted in the most regular contractions) was sitting upright on the hospital bed.

12:50: Checked again, dilated to a 5. Decided I no longer care about natural childbirth if it's going to take forever and be lame, so asked for an epidural. Was told that the anesthesiologist was at home and would take 30 minutes to get there. Of course. I swear, each contraction after you've asked for an epidural is such an insult.

1:08: Anesthesiologist arrived, faster than anticipated, which was awesome. Less awesome was the part where he was insane like bat guano. He had me curl up on my left side and then opened my hospital gown to get to my back, whereupon this happened.

Anesthesiologist: Hey, are you part Mexican?

Me: Um, noooo . . . why?

(Pretty sure wherever this is going, I'm not going to like it.)

A: Because Mexican girls have hairy backs and so do you.

(Yep. Don't like it.)

Me: Wow. So it's not enough that I'm in pain, now you're going to call me hairy? Also . . . that is so incredibly racist.

He kept chatting away about Mexicans and hairiness while I mouthed profane expressions of incredulity at GH, who was kneeling on the other side of the bed (facing me) and gripping my hands tightly

Thing is, Dr. Batpoo did place one heckuva(n) epidural. When he was done I felt no pain but could still move my legs and feet.

2:45pm: Checked again. I was at 6 cm. The baby was not posterior--he was transverse (facing my side) and hadn't decided which direction to flip. So the nurse put this stirrup/bar thing up on the right side of the bed and had me roll onto my right side and put my left leg up into it so that we could encourage him to turn. Decided to take a nap since clearly I had some time to kill.

10 minutes later: Ooooooorr maybe not. Judging by the pressure I was now feeling down there, either a baby was about to come out or I really needed to use the bathroom. Asked the nurse to check me.

Turns out I went from 6 to 10 cm dilated in ten minutes. Am really glad I was drugged for that. My OB came back in and we got the pushing party started.

*Warning: This is the part where I will be discussing gore. You have been warned.*

During the pushing, a band of old scar tissue on the inside of my, um, self decided to open up and start bleeding everywhere. So they're trying to mop it all up while the doctor gets ready to stitch that closed to stop the bleeding. But then he can't, because the baby's head gets there and kind of seals things off. So we proceed. This means, though, that when I got my first look at him at 3:23pm, this baby had just been dragged face-first through a lot of my blood. (Stay classy, childbirth!) I barely registered my baby's Carrie-at-the-prom countenance, though, because I was busy bursting into loud sobs at the sight of his tiny beautiful self. It seems to be what I do.

Eyelash extensions. Best pre-labor beauty move ever.

You may think I look bloated and exhausted here.
And you'd be right, but I look AH-MAZE-ING compared with the 2010 version.

After things were over with, I started shivering and my blood pressure dropped again (still not done with that), so I had to stay under these heated blankets for an extra long time before they moved me to the Mother/Baby floor.

Baby T weighed 8 pounds even, so a full pound and a bit smaller than the (Not So) Tiny Dark Lord. But even with a smaller baby, perfectly positioned, and less than 30 minutes of pushing while the OB went all massage therapist trying to help things stretch out nicely, I still would up with a 2nd degree tear. So it may really be that my bottom has done her bit and needs to be retired from this part of the process. And I can be okay with that.

I was really happy with the way the labor and delivery went. Yes, this delivery was more "managed" than my hippie ideals would have liked and I worried that I could end up with complications or regrets, but I didn't. I also felt like the hospital staff did a great job of asking what I wanted and were really supportive. (Except for the part where my OB forgot and cut the umbilical cord right away even though we'd talked about waiting. Sorry, kid. Hope you didn't need that blood for anything.) But anyway. It was smooth and fast and I'm amazed at how much more quickly I'm healing, the tear notwithstanding. Like, I stopped taking ibuprofin last week. I was on that crap until my 6-week appointment last time, I kid you not.

The first and so far ONLY time these two have touched

Another thing that was so nice this time around is that I haven't had the same bonding delay I did with TDL. Even though I don't really know this little guy that well yet, from the beginning I've felt like he's mine and not just some stranger they handed me to take care of. I love getting to fall in love with him every day.

And that's my story!

ps. I do have some post-delivery stories about passing out on the toilet and how a couple of nurses managed to break my bladder freaking AGAIN, but those are for another post. Get your indignation (and perhaps an ice pack) out.

Last day as an only child

So . . . I'm getting induced tomorrow.

I will be 39 weeks and 1 day pregnant. As of Friday, I was 2.5cm dilated and 75% effaced, with the baby right down where he needs to be. So I'm hopeful that my body is ready to do this thing, and that the baby is ready to make his appearance (at less than 9 pounds large, please oh please). That's what's going on over here, and after agonizing back and forth over options and blah, this is the decision I actually feel best about. And I'm really, really excited to meet this little guy.

Now let's talk about the Tiny Dark Lord, on this, his (most likely) last day as an only child. He and I stayed home from church today, because:

1. I can't sit in that warm chapel for an hour. Last night during the Relief Society Broadcast I only made it through the first 30 minutes before staggering out into the hall so I could mop out my cleavage and cool down. Of course everyone thought I was leaving because I was in labor. That was fun. I kept listening in the (much cooler) foyer and enjoyed snacks in the gym afterwards. They were awesome, by the way: finger sandwiches and wraps and fruit kabobs and cake balls and little cream puffs and cheesecake bites and every good thing.

2. It would be just my luck to send him to his nursery class today and have him pick up the cold that's going around. I've seen how much bodily fluids those kids excrete in 2 hours, and I've seen the way TDL picks up and then licks the play kitchen food, so . . . yeah.

GH did send a couple of text updates during church. I learned that I missed out on the Primary Program, which was kind of a bummer. But I also missed out on a 5th Sunday lesson about the importance of accepting and keeping your church building cleaning assignment. Lose some, win some. Pretty sure I'd rather be in labor than sit through that one.

Instead TDL and I watched Music and the Spoken Word and made dough for The Sugar Cookies, which we will cut out tonight using his new Halloween cookie cutters. I took pictures so I can show him that he was loved before I chose to ruin his life with additional babies.

Also on the docket for tonight:

1. Make brownies to bring the nurses so they will like me and be willing to massage my perineum. That's not the kind of trade you make every day.
2. Finish packing the hospital bag (much smaller this time)
3. Ask the Gentleman Husband for a blessing
4. Figure out a way to pin back my hair so it stays put during labor this time and doesn't wind up looking like a badger attacked it in all the post-birth photos

Thank you so much to everyone for all your good wishes, advice, encouragement, and prayers. Will post an update as soon as I can!

38 weeks and also women giving blessings

Today I hit the 38 week mark and, as a bonus, my chins came in. Hi, chins!

This is the week where everyone has felt free to walk up to me and tell me how miserable I look, which is fun. I think I look quite good. I mean, yes, I look tired because I don't sleep well. And I look overheated because I am, because hello does it need to be this freaking hot at church? But on the whole I was feeling decent today.

slimming, slimming stripes

Here is what I looked like at 38 weeks last time around.

I think size-wise I appear about the same(?) but otherwise I much prefer today's picture. Better lighting, actual makeup, and I was not standing in the Hobo Spider Apartment of Gross. All improvements.

I guess there is the part though where in the older picture my pelvic floor still worked. So that's something.

And now we segue: Back when I was pregnant with the Tiny Dark Lord, I read for the first time about the (now discontinued) practice among Relief Society sisters of washing and blessing women before childbirth. (It was in a Sunstone article, "A Gift Given, A Gift Taken: Washing, Anointing, and Blessing the Sick among Mormon Women" by Linda King Newell.) This was absolute news to me, and I felt like I'd lost out on the chance to benefit from something that sounded quite powerful and beautiful and sisterhood-y.

Rixa Freeze over at Stand and Deliver wrote a great blog post ("LDS blessing rituals before childbirth") a few years ago about those blessings and what we know about them based on the records and meeting minutes kept by Relief Societies. Basically these women ministered to each other in a manner similar to the washing and anointing we experience now in the temple. They believed and had been assured that they were empowered to do this through their faith. And these were the kinds of things they blessed the expectant mother with (this text comes from the minutes of a Relief Society in Idaho--you can read more in the Sunstone article):

We anoint your spinal column that you might be strong and healthy . . . your bladder that it might be strong and protected from accident, your Hips that your system might relax and give way for the birth of your child, . . . your breasts that your milk may come freely and you need not be afflicted with sore nipples as many are, your heart that it might be comforted.  . . . .the child shall present right for birth and that the afterbirth shall come at its proper time . . . and you need not flow to excess. . . .

Um, I could have used all of that. Just saying.

And then this came at the end of one of the recorded blessings:

Sister ___ we unitedly lay our hands upon you to seal the washing and anointing wherewith you have been washed and anointed for your safe delivery, for the salvation of you and your child and we ask God to let his special blessings to rest upon you, that you might sleep sweet at night that your dreams might be pleasant and that the good spirit might guard and protect you from every evil influence spirit and power that you may go your full time and that every blessing that we have asked God to confer upon you and your offspring may be literally fulfilled that all fear and dread may be taken from you and that you might trust in God. All these blessings we unitedly seal upon you in the name of Jesus Christ Amen.

I could absolutely use some of this now. Isn't that just beautiful?

This practice, along with blessings of healing and other things, was slowly discouraged through the early 1900s as the structure within the Church shifted towards an emphasis on priesthood leadership. In a 1946 letter from then-Apostle Joseph Fielding Smith to then-RS President Belle Spafford, he made it very clear that it was more correct for the Elders to administer to the sick, not the sisters.

After that, it just stopped. This, to me, is absolutely sad and unfair. Something that brought comfort and peace and sisterhood to so many women was discontinued by men who (bless their hearts) had never experienced it and likely did not appreciate what they were writing off with their "just call on the Elders" reasoning. Because that's not actually the kind of thing where the Elders can just step in and take over. ("So, Home Teachee, do you need anything this month?" "Yes, actually, I'd like you to anoint and bless my spine, hips, and breasts in preparation for my upcoming labor.") And yes, I can ask (and have, and will) my husband for general blessings of comfort, but it's not the same. At all.

One sleepless night I had fun daydreaming about who I would ask to come be part of my before-childbirth blessing. I got a really great group together, let me tell you. Sadly, I have no immediate plans to go vigilante and start organizing something, even though that would be awesome. I do know, though, that all those women, whether I invite them to come bless my bladder or not, will be praying for me when the time comes and that there is power in their faith and prayers. For now that will have to be enough.

Just keep swimming . . .

On Saturday I left Cow Town with its Poop Smells behind and visited the bustling metropolis of Salt Lake City with GH and the Tiny Dark Lord. And lo, the city actually was bustling because in one day they were holding a U of U football game, the State Fair, the Greek Festival, a James Taylor +  Mormon Tabernacle Choir concert, and the first ever SLC Comic Con (which had 70,000+ participants).

In short, there were a lot of people walking around in costumes. 

We ate a lunch of roasted meats at Tucanos (using my free birthday coupon) in the now-always-deserted Gateway Mall, then took TRAX to City Creek Mall which enjoying the scent of Superhero Costume Body Odor (it's its own special thing, I think). Passed the throngs of Comic Con-ers waiting in lines outside the convention center while GH cursed himself for not buying tickets back when they were available, before they announced that The Shatner would be there.

After roaming around City Creek Mall and admiring its immodesty splendor, we hit Costco. Among other Spirit-inviting things, I bought a bag of dark chocolate coconut almonds to put in my hospital suitcase. Has anybody else tried these things? They are amazing. I can't open them now or I will eat every last one of them in a 24-hour period and then have a 14-lb baby. Those almonds will be my reward for whatever happens between now and whenever I'm allowed to eat again after the baby is born.

Then it was on to the Bombay House for a delicious birthday dinner with my Utah sibling, followed by cake (that huge chocolate Costco one that will kill you) and ice cream at Spitfire's new SLC digs. Even though Jenny was half dead from exhaustion and pregnancy-related ailments, I made her pose for pictures.

33.5 weeks and 36 weeks

Yeah, I know. We make this look good.

"I have made fire!!!"

Okay. I didn't really. I made curtains, and Tom Hanks here expresses exactly my level of excitement and pride over that accomplishment.

I am not a sew-er. I bought my sister Spitfire's sewing machine in 2008 (she was upgrading) in the hopes that I would become one, and then I let it sit in the box for 5 years because I was scared to death of the thing. It had buttons and made beeping sounds, for crying out loud. Like I'm going to touch that. The need for curtains in the baby's room finally overrode my fear. (The bright afternoon/evening light might disturb the baby, and the sight of my topless staggering body in the night would surely disturb the neighbors.) I bought fabric, asked a crafty friend to come over and force me to get started, and, millions and millions of hours later, I have curtains--two sets for two windows:

It looks like navy blue, but it's not. It's dark grey, and the design on it started
looking like fruit flies exactly 2 minutes after the ladies in the store cut into it.
 But that does not matter now because CURTAINS!!!!!

Aaaaaaand now I can go ahead and have a baby. I couldn't before. The missing curtains loomed too large.

The nesting urge has actually been my friend for the last little bit. Because of nesting, the following long-needed tasks have been accomplished. (Note: some (okay, most) of these things had not been done since before we moved in over a year ago.)

Oven cleaned (GH did this)
Kitchen floor mopped
Stairs vacuumed
Carpets cleaned by professionals
Shower curtain liners washed
Kitchen cabinets reorganized
Massive 3-ton TV in storage room (left by previous occupants who couldn't move it) posted on KSL and taken away

I still have a huge long list of things I'd like to get done, but none of them are deal breakers like the curtains were.

Has anyone else done something that you'd like to get a bit of props for? Now's your time!

Time for some (popped-out) navel-gazing

34 weeks, bending over to find toes

Remember a month ago when I said I was panicking? I hit the 30-week mark and suddenly realized that I for rillz am going to have to get this baby out somehow and that I absolutely cannot go through a repeat of what happened last time. I kept running every possible option and scenario in my head, trying to figure out which ones would lessen my chances of a re-broken butt hole. The most obvious answer would be to bypass that whole area entirely with a C-section, but I'm also worried about surgery and recovery and if that's absolutely necessary. And hey, while I'm at it, let's worry about breastfeeding. And about becoming a bloodless shell-shocked zombie who can't bond with her baby. Let's worry about aaaaaalllllll of it!

Good times.


Even though I have no more answers now than I did then, I feel like I'm getting my body and my head a bit better prepared for whatever is going to happen. And maybe no one cares and this will just be for my own brain-dumping purposes, but here's what I've been up to:

(Disclaimer: These things may help me have a better labor/delivery/recovery/breastfeeding experience. Or they may not. But they are helping me feel calmer and more proactive now, which I will absolutely take.)

A good chat with my OB about my tearing worries. We agree that forceps are out and he wrote it down in my file. I may still Sharpie a message to that effect on my inner thighs when the time comes, though. He doesn't think a scheduled C-section is warranted, but is absolutely super fine with inducing me a week early if I'm worried about having another elephant baby. Or hey, even if the baby is small, we can still induce! Also, have I considered how much easier that will make arranging child care for TDL? (Hoo boy, Utah, with your scheduled induction ways.) At the moment, I'm not planning to take him up on the offer.

A tour of the labor & delivery unit of the hospital. I got to see the rooms and all the gear they keep in them (birth balls, birth bars, etc.). Now I know to ask for a room with a longer couch (for my tall husband) near the Jacuzzi, just in case I want to try that thing out. And I saw the snack room where they have a soda fountain, bags of chips, fruit, and cookies for birth partners to munch on. I am not allowed to have any of those things, but they'll give me popsicles and put flavored syrup on my ice chips if I ask. So that's something.

Morning walks. GH and I have started getting up around 6:30am most mornings to exercise. He gets up this early because he has willpower. I get up this early because hey, I'm awake anyway. He goes downstairs and gets on the elliptical, and I go outside and walk around the neighborhood while it still feels nice and cool. Then I come home and do this 20-minute video podcast from Mamaste Yoga (Mamaste, get it?) to stretch out.

Eating Less Babybel. Also less Top Ramen. I gained more weight with TDL than I probably needed to, and this time around I'm trying to eat better (less sugar, less empty carbs). If my recent peach cobbler binging episode is any indicator, I may have some room to improve there.

Hypnobabies. I've started re-reading the materials and listening to the CDs, and it's amazing how much more positive I feel after a few weeks of brain-washing. The first few times I listened to the "Joyful Pregnancy Affirmations" track on my morning walk and heard, "My baby is in the perfect position to birth smoothly and easily," I may have snorted and muttered some unprintable things. But now that it's kicking in I'm all, "That's right! I do deserve an easy, fast and completely comfortable birthing! Woo hoo!"

Pelvic tilts, Kegels, yadda. When I remember to. Also, starting soon if I can drum up the willpower, Perineal Massage. Blergh.

Foot zones from a Hippie Foot Zoner.

Massages/Adjustments from a Hippie Chiropractor.

Red Raspberry Leaf Tea

Red Raspberry Leaf Tea. I will start drinking this as soon as it arrives from Amazon (should be today). It's supposed to tone my uterus and lead to a shorter labor. I almost suggested this to my sister Jenny but then I remembered how fast her last labor was and figured I'd better not unless I want my new niece to be born in their driveway. Plus they live in the mountains where the cougars would be all, "Mmmm . . . afterbirth." Not really the scenario anyone wants.

Five/Six Week Formula (herbal tincture by Butterfly Expressions)

Some Crazy Potion. My hippie foot zoner used this during her most recent pregnancies and recommends it to speed up labor and recovery. We shall see.

Motherlove More Milk Plus ($15 at Amazon)

Milk-making stuff. In case I need help in that department. Because no way am I doing that whole "drink fennel seeds steeped in milk and then go vomit into your sink" thing again. Also have started re-reading some of my breastfeeding books, and man some of those authors sound like judgmental cows.

Prayer/Blessings. I've been doing a lot of praying on my own and with GH that things will go smoothly and well, no matter what kind of delivery we end up having. The other big thing I pray for is that I will be able to make the best decisions for me and the baby, and if there's something I need to do or need to know, that I will get the message.

And now I'd better stop ignoring the yells of the Original Bottom-Damage-Causer and get him up from his nap.

Of swimming lessons and pregnancy cleavage

I took the Tiny Dark Lord to his first swimming lesson today, which is the first organized, paid-for, group-like athletic activity he has done so far in life. Go me! Am practically a football booster mom now.

My reasons were these:

1. The local pool is on the other end of town and doesn't open until noon, which is an hour before TDL is supposed to go down for his afternoon nap. The afternoon nap is very, very important. Probably not for him, but for me it is a sacred time. But the swimming lesson place is just a few minutes away, and after the late-morning lesson you can stay and swim as long as you want.

2. Since TDL seems to be on-again with water, (ask me about the 6 months where he refused to bathe and we had to throw him in the shower with GH on Sunday mornings to wash off the stench while he howled and sobbed), I thought he might enjoy spending some time in it.

And he was excited to go--this is him jumping up and down and quivering, waiting for his teacher to show up.

And these are his toes, which match his swimsuit. (He saw me getting mine done last night and wanted some.)

A note about the teacher: She seems very nice and easy-going, but man this Tots & Parents class is a sweet gig for her. She just got to stand there in the water and call out directions while the parents did all the actual wrangling. 


3. I doubt he will learn any actual swimming skills, but I like the idea of him getting more relaxed and confident in the water so that maybe real swimming lessons down the road might go well.

He actually did pretty well, even if he spent the first several minutes clinging to me like a spider monkey shrieking "No jump! No jump!" because he was afraid I was going to put him up on the side and make him jump into my arms. And then, you know, deliberately drown him. But eventually he relaxed and loosened the death grip and we were able to practice all the "now kick on your back" and "now kick on your tummy" and "now go ahead and put your mouth in this small therapy pool where all these other small kids have been/are currently peeing and blow bubbles" moves the teacher wanted us to do. I think he'll be happy to go back--he was jabbering all about swimming this afternoon to a cousin while I translated. "It was blue water." "He was swimming." "He had a dinosaur toy." "Miss [Desmama] was there."  

Because yes, the extra bonus was that I walked out of the class and smack into Desmama, who was there with her kids at the pool after their lessons. So I will get to visit with her every day this week after class, which, if you know her, you will agree is a delight to be savored.

And speaking of delights to be savored, that brings me to my #4 reason for signing up for this class:

4. I get to be in the water too, and being buoyant for those few minutes feels absolutely wonderful, even if it means I have to flash my beluga torso at everyone while my suit top floats up. I expect no one really notices because they are too distracted by the awesomeness that is my inflated and now fully-on-display pregnancy cleavage.

In fact, let's talk about my cleavage for a bit (you know you want to). Here's the thing: Maternity shirts tends to be kind of low cut. Do not ask me why this is. As a pregnant, temple-endowed LDS female it is absolutely possible to end up with an insane 5+ layers of clothing over your belly if you are wearing garments and paneled maternity pants and a low-cut or in any way sheer (so, you know, basically a) shirt that would normally necessitate wearing something else underneath. And seriously, that's JUST if you want to wear a pair of capris and a t-shirt.

Five layers. In this, the time of increased blood levels and body temps and summer heat and lack of air conditioning at my house. Clearly something has to give and at the moment it's the modesty-preserving tank tops and Shade shirts. And oh my gosh, even ditching just one layer makes such a difference. Plus, I won't lie to you, I look kind of rockin' up top. Turns out Ds are way more fun to dress than B minuses. (Or should that be B+ as in close to A? Huh.)

Point is, enjoy the walking pornography, everyone! (Or, I should say, the waddling pornography.)

So . . . a chicken crapped on me

Is that supposed to be good luck? Let's hope so. Also the chicken had been eating watermelon. Like, a lot of watermelon. Be sure to add that to the visual.

The chicken owners, about 30 seconds prior, suggested that a super good choice would be for me to pick up the chicken and hold it still so that the Tiny Dark Lord could pet it. Aaaaaand I think you know where I'm going with this. So now TDL knows what it's like to pet a chicken. YOU ARE WELCOME. Isn't motherhood such an awesome stream of indignities?

Other updates that may or may not involve fecal matter:

Still pregnant. (Yay!) Am officially 3/4ths of the way through. Commence panicking about giant monster babies and exploded bottoms in 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . 

Still knitting. Want to see? Too bad, you have to.

Newborn vertebrae

In Threes (for Jenny's girl child)

Cabled baby hat

Reading. I actually have read a few books! I know. I stun myself. First I kept choosing lame books that made me wonder if maybe my brain was broken or I just suddenly hated reading (see: broken brain). But then I got some good stuff and now we're back on track.

The lame:

Sweet Tooth by Ian McEwan, which I was listening to on audio and didn't finish. Maybe I stopped just as things were about to get good but so help me I just couldn't care, the heroine is a moron. Stupid Tooth, more like. Maybe if I pick up the paper version I'll be able to move ahead faster. Juliet Stevenson does the audio and I kept expecting to hear, "I never compliment myself, but my friends say I do know how to make a sandwich," or possibly, "Get your lesbian feet out of my shoes!" Which would have been awesome.

Courtship and Curses by Marisa Doyle. Regency romance plus witchcraft should have been a no-brain winner, and yet! Snoozefest. Nobody even makes out in the gardens outside Almack's! FAIL.

Wicked Business by Janet Evanovich. Also an audiobook. So, um, it turns out that when you are listening you can suddenly tell that she isn't a good writer of dialogue. Like, at all. Did everyone else already know this? And half the thing read like a Mapquest of Boston. Okay, Janet, I get that you've been to Boston.

The good:

Still Alice by Lisa Genova. Breaks your dang heart but so good!

The Birth House by Ami McKay. Yes, the obstetrician villain could have used some dimension but I still liked it.

What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty (was a fortunately-timed reread for my book group)

The checked-out-from-library to read:

Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys

The Kitchen House by Kathleen Grissom

Wait Til Next Year: A Memoir by Doris Kearns Goodwin

The purchase-requested-from-library-so-who-even-knows-when-I'll-get to read:

Mr. Penumbra's 24-Hour Book Store by Robin Sloane

The Hypnotists's Love Story by Liane Moriarty

Angelina's Bachelors: A Novel with Food by Brian O'Reilly (Really, anything that tacks on "with food" in the title gets a second look from me)

Has anyone read any of these? Care to weigh in?

The second time around

Jenny and I after her birthday pedicure.
She is 22 weeks pregnant, I am 24.

One nice thing about preparing for Baby #2 is that there isn't as much stuff to buy, because you already went through that whole mess once before.

With Baby #1 you're like, "Oh my gosh I need to get an infant carseat and a non-infant carseat and a stroller and a crib and sheets and clothes and all the medicines and shampoos and lotions and ear thermometers and rectal thermometers and two different kinds of nipple pads and also dye-and-fragrance-free laundry detergent and and and and and and and and . . . "

Baby #2? "Enh, I've got a Pack 'n Play and they have diapers down the road at the grocery store. I'm probably good. Now, where did that ice cream go?"

I was straightening up a bit today in the guest room/Baby #2 room this morning. It has become the dumping place for All Things Baby, so I went through the bins and bags and tried to get a handle on things. It was a good time. I found baby clothes and burp clothes that had been packed away years ago with baby vomit and baby boogers still on them. I found the bag with all the accessories belonging to Gator the Breast Pump and my eye started twitching. I found teeny tiny newborn socks and just about died at the cuteness and even though I've seen it it's still hard to believe anyone's feet can be so small.

When I was on Amazon later today I thought I'd be smart and order a few things to save myself from having to remember to buy them at the store later. So I got newborn pacifiers and a bottle brush and a few things like that. Remembered that I'd created a Google spreadsheet before the Tiny Dark Lord was born where I'd made a list of all the things I needed to buy, so I opened it and scanned through to see what I might need replacements of. (Is gripe water still good after 3 years?)

It was kind of fun scanning through the list and remembering what it was like trying to prepare for parenthood, and thinking about some of the adventures I've had with those items. (Rectal thermometer? Still unopened. Nasal bulb aspirator? I went through three of those things and they were all crap. Order the Nosefrida instead, then send me some real or imaginary chocolate as a thank you.)

The real fun happened, though, when I scrolled down and saw my hospital packing list, which I curated very carefully after reading the Internet. Here is what was on it:

iPods w/Hypnobabies scripts, charger
birth ball
toiletries
chapstick
sleep mask
warm socks
birth plan
snacks
brownies for the nurses
swim suit

That's not even a long list but oh, how I laughed. I laugh-ed. Let's take a look, shall we?

iPods w/Hypnobabies scripts, charger: Still happening. In fact, my iPhone is probably the only item that for sure needs to be in my bag.

Birth Ball--may still bring it, just in case I want to bounce on something to speed labor up. Or if I need something to throw at people that won't hurt them but will definitely get their attention. If I want to hurt anyone I'm sure there will be things already in the room that I can use.

Chapstick: Don't know how this warrants its own mention on a list, nor do I remember having any urgent lip balm needs. But I guess if it comes up there will probably be a stick somewhere in the bottom of my makeup bag or in my purse. Or I can just tell a nurse to put some Vaseline on my lips.

Sleep mask: Seriously? Was that for people who share rooms or something? My privilege and I will be in a private room, all Kardashian-style. Or maybe it's for people who can't nap during the day when it's light. Except that's how napping works.

Toiletries--Yes. And this time I hope to actually use the things instead of lying there like an exsanguinated corpse for days and then finally getting enough energy to take my first post-birth shower minutes before the nurses shoved me out the hospital door with wet hair. Cross fingers!

Warm socks--They have them there, and then if you bleed and/or lose bladder control all over them, they can be thrown away. By nurses.

Snacks--Also there at the nurse's station. Pudding packs, I'm coming for you . . .

Birth plan--Will still bring one just in case. It could probably stand to be a lot shorter.

Brownies for nurses--This was a suggestion by the Hypnobabies people, and I think it's a good one. If you don't want to spend a few minutes doing a brownie mix before going to the hospital, just grabbing something yummy you've set aside from Costco is still a nice gesture, I think.

Swim suit--BAH HAHAH HAHAHAHA. Biggest laugh of all. Don't ask how that ended up on the list. Maybe it was a side-effect of watching so many videos where the moms labored in birth pools while wearing sports bras or swimsuit tops because, you know, they were being filmed. But seriously, I think a fun thing to do would be to suggest that a laboring woman stuff herself into a swimsuit. And maybe turn a few cartwheels while she's at it. You'll likely hear some new swears and maybe suffer death.

Anybody else have any 2nd-time around wisdom to add?

Baby knitting

Fun fact: I can't knit during my first trimester. I start feeling gross, and the act of attempting to knit while feeling gross creates a full-on Pavlovian nausea aversion to knitting, yarn, you name it. So I have to set my projects aside somewhere between the 6-8 week mark and try again a few months down the road.

Now that I'm back in the groove, here's what I've been working on:

Welcome to the World newborn hat

This cotton number was for Missy W's baby girl, who is due to make her appearance at any moment. I gave it to her last week when we finally met In Real Life for some amazing buckwheat pancakes at Herm's Inn. We are actually kind of related (her brother-in-law married my sister-in-law, have fun figuring that out) and it seemed only right that we should meet up and talk about cool postpartum things like nipple ointment and Things the Nurses Will Stuff into Your Underwear. The Tiny Dark Lord was quite taken with Missy and with the whole breakfast adventure (they served him a huge "Mickey Mouse" pancake and he ate the entire thing and tried to go for my food as well).

Easy Peasy Leftover Sock Newborn Hat

Does this yarn look familiar? Am a little worried that this hat might not be tall enough. Will go measure and then rip it out back to the decreases to put on another inch or so if needed. I made another one with some other leftovers, and it looks like this one will be going to my sister Jen because she's having a girl!

See what I mean about the blue one being too small?

Kurbis baby hats

The pumpkin hats are for all my friends & sister who are having October babies. In fact, I need to get one more going. And then another, bigger one for the Dark Lord, who has decided that he is now interested in hats and would quite like one of these. Am sure this enthusiasm will last just long enough for me to make the thing.

And look who I finally finished, three years later!!!

Elijah

TDL saw a picture of this elephant on my iPad (I have a PDF of the pattern on there) and got So. Very. Excited. Of course, he also gets So. Very. Excited about just about everything, but still. It was motivating enough to make me finish it and give it to him. Now he sleeps with the thing, which warms my cold black heart very much.

And here's another picture, just because:

Aaaand here are a few patterns waiting their turn in my Ravelry queue:

Cabled Baby Hats by Julie Hentz

Little Scallops by Maria Carlander

Little Coffee Bean Cardigan by Elizabeth Smith

Newborn Vertebrae by Kelly Brooker, knit & image by Lete

The Tiny Dark Lord called it

First my dentist, then a toddler.

Last month I started telling TDL about the baby, and pointing to my belly button to show him where it is. He likely has no idea what I'm talking about, but when we were visiting with my Dad last month I asked the Dark Lord where "The Baby" was and he pointed to my tummy. And then he said, "Penis!"

Turns out, he was right, and we have the ultrasound pics to confirm it.

Upon seeing the child's (frankly huge and yet somehow hidden until the last second) manhood on the ultrasound, I had two thoughts:

1. This means I for sure have to get pregnant again.
2. Aw, crap. Now we have to come up with a boy name.

Boy names are not our strong point. We did a good job with TDL's real name, but that was for real the only boy name we could come up with. Now we are stuck.

After the ultrasound we went to Aggie Ice Cream. TDL got Aggie Blue Mint in honor of his new baby brother. I got Chocolate English Toffee and also Centennial (a seasonal graduation flavor with a cheesecake base, dried cherries, and chocolate covered graham crackers) in honor of being a little bit depressed.

And yes, believe me, I know how stupid it is to be depressed about seeing a healthy baby with arms and legs and beautifully functioning organs, but you can't argue with Pregnant Feelings That Need Ice Cream.

Now that we've started spreading the news, some people asked me if I'm surprised. My answer is no, because I am familiar with a little thing called Science and I really didn't have any "feelings" either way. I knew what my two options were, and it turned out to be one of the two. If the ultrasound had discovered some kind of "V" lizard baby, then yeah. That would have been a surprise.

I think some people are uncomfortable though with the idea that I was disappointed and actually expressed that out loud. As if I'm just going to then turn around and reject/eat/refuse to love the new baby because he's not a girl. So then they get all funny and patronizing, even though I know they were hoping for a girl just like I was. Yeah well, wait til I dress this boy in nothing but pink dresses, then we'll see who's uncomfortable!

Perhaps this is part of God's plan to make sure I don't try to slink off with only two children like them godless, secular heathens you hear tell of. This way I will have to give it at least one more go to see if I can come up with something that can wear the precious tiny red Hawaiian dress I only bought about 10 years ago and also the tiny pink patent leather Mary Janes that my mom mailed me last year and instructed me to hang over my bed in some sort of gender-influencing fertility rite.

If I keep having boys, then we will just have to have a lot of dress up days. Which, really, I'm okay with. Now that I'm more used to the idea, there are lots of reasons to be happy about having two boys in a row. And although I never compliment myself, my friends do say I make adorable boys. If this one turns out anything like his big brother, I will be lucky, lucky, lucky.

Also I have started knitting for Young Sir, which has cheered me up quite a bit, especially this sweater I'm working on with the soft cuddly grey yarn I picked up in San Francisco. Will post pictures as soon as it's done, provided I don't run out of yarn at the last second and throw some kind of rage fit (see above re: Pregnant Feelings).

Baby Sophisticate, knitted by Alana Dakos of Never Not Knitting

You heard it from my dentist first

Kurbis baby hat

Back in January I had my teeth cleaned and told the hygienist that I wanted to skip the X-rays because there was a chance I could be pregnant. When the dentist came in after the cleaning, she told him why we'd passed on the X-rays and he said, "Oh yes? Let's have a look."

Dentist, to the technician: "Want to make a prediction? Check out these gums."

Me: "Actually, that's called gum disease and me not flossing." (Joke's on you, doc!)

Dentist: "Mmm-hmmm. A woman of your age, with gums like that . . . pregnancy is hard on your gums, and it can show up pretty quickly. I've been right before, that's all I'm saying."

I rolled my eyes at him and went on my way.

Next morning, I got in the shower and just about hit the ceiling when the water fire-hosed into my chest. (This is mostly GH's fault--he has tinkered with the water pressure because he thinks that if you leave the shower with intact nipples then you did it wrong. But still. It was worse than usual.)

So at lunch, even though it was still a couple of days before I thought I could get reliable results, grumbling at the know-it-all dentist who was probably just giving me false hope, I took a pregnancy test.

And what do you know--I do have pregnant gums.

I'm 14 weeks along now and feeling good (baby is due around October 6). My top craving has been Philly cheese steaks. I do mine with grilled roast beef, green peppers, provolone, and cream cheese--also I sometimes put butter on the sandwich roll before I toast it, for the calcium. I've converted Spitfire, and the possibility of sharing a sandwich with me can sometimes lure her to my home during the lunch hour.

I am finally able to knit again since it no longer induces nausea, and that cute little pumpkin hat is the first thing I've managed. When I showed it off to GH last night and told him the baby can wear it while we take TDL trick-or-treating this year, he looked at me like I was insane.

GH: We aren't taking the baby trick-or-treating. He won't even be a month old!

Me: So? It'll be fine, I'll just hold the baby in a carrier.

GH: That's RSV season! You want to take him or her out with all those other kids???

Me: What other kids?

GH: The kids! That kids that are running around everywhere all coughing and sick!

Me: Nobody will getting close to me. Exactly how many kids did you see coughing into my boobs last Halloween?

So apparently they hand out RSV along with the Halloween candy. Good to know.

Hey girl, here's how you be sympathetic

In the past month I've lost 10 pounds. I attribute this to a few things:

1. I downloaded the myfitnesspal app and am now tracking my calories & exercise

2. I caught the Tiny Dark Lord's stomach bug

3. I miscarried when I was 12 weeks pregnant and lost my appetite

I only recommend #1. It's a really good app.

So . . . about the miscarriage. One minute I was thinking, "Hey! I hit the 12-week mark! I can blog about this soon! Maybe tomorrow!" and then in the next, "Huh. This spotting that I was writing off as being perfectly normal seems . . . like it's getting worse." The doctor said to come in the next morning, and I spent that night obsessing about every twinge and cramp. Around midnight, I had a silent conversation with the baby, where I explained that our family loved and wanted her/him so much, and if there was something wrong with the body I was trying to grow for it, then that was okay. We can go ahead and reboot. We can start over again until we get it right. Thinking about it that way helped me to feel some peace.

The next morning, I started having lower back pains while making breakfast & almost convinced myself that this was just gas. I would go to the doctor, we would both have a chuckle about how everything turns out to be gas, and then he would play me the heartbeat of my perfectly healthy baby and maybe I would score an extra ultrasound and get a really great picture to bring home and put on my fridge, yay! Two minutes later, though, it became very clear that this was a miscarriage. And it really, really sucked.

My sister Jenny came over that night with dinner, magazines, and chocolate. She was angry that all the sympathy cards in the store were worthless and said things like, "Just remember, someone has it worse than you." Her response: "Um, eff YOU, sympathy cards! Where are the ones with Ryan Gosling saying, 'Hey girl,' on them, huh??" Which led to this, created by the brilliant and talented Alma Loveland*, because she is fabulous.

card by Alma Loveland. precious face by Ryan Gosling

My doctor says that one in five recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage, which means that a lot of you reading have already gone through this. It seems like the one rule is that nobody's experience is the same and you really can't predict (or mandate) what the grieving process will be like. I feel like I'm doing okay, though, and I recognize that there were a lot of blessings involved in how everything happened, even if it's not something where I would have been like, "Hey, this sounds awesome, sign me up!"

So. That's one reason why I've been a bit absent, but now I'm looking forward to doing more blogging. Future installments to come back for include "Making my child look even more like a British schoolboy" and "Watching Pitch Perfect with a returned missionary while sitting behind a bunch of girls who have maybe never seen a film before." It's going to be good times!



*psst. Go buy Alma's Olliblocks printables! You will be the coolest gift-giver this year, I promise.

Day 8: Dress up a coat. Or don't.

I didn't. I don't think I even wore a coat that day. Not that it wasn't cold, but because I didn't remember to.

This was my second visit to the physical therapist. I went to see her because I was referred by a urogynecologist, to whom I was referred by my ob/gyn when I went in for a check-up and asked about some post-baby muscle weakness I was still having. The OB said that my darling little 9-pound, posterior, forceps-delivered Dark Lord had basically broken my bottom and that I should go see some specialists about that to see if I need reconstructive surgery and and oh by the way you should only have C-sections from now or you'll make it worse mmkay?

These . . . were not words that my Hypnobabies/midwives/birthing pool self expected or wished to hear, and they threw me into kind of an absolute state. I won't get into all of that mess here but will say that I'm glad I'm not pregnant right now and have some more time to get additional opinions and weigh risks and come to terms with whatever. Also on the list of "things I have time to do" is to visit a Physical Butt Hole Therapist to try to get myself fixed back up. Because that's the kind of glamorous that I am. I am so incredibly glamorous, friends, that I can now accept as a typical Wednesday activity something like, say, lying on an exam table with electrodes taped to either side of my @$$hole.

It's a decadent life.

And I know I said I wasn't going to get into this but have any of you had bad tears with your babies? And if so, did you keep having bad tears? I know everyone is different, but I really would like to know.