Real Labour

Has it only been just over two weeks since William was born? I can't believe it. I wish I could say it's all been smooth sailing, but William came into the world via an emergency c-section (and all I wanted while I was pregnant was to avoid a c-section).

Maybe I should back up a bit.

Induction day was 11 days overdue. I avoided any exams and sweeping of membranes not wanting to mess around "down there", because I was hoping things would take their natural course. I instead had two sessions of acupuncture (a woman in our birth and babies class swore by it--had actually gone into labour within hours of having it done). But on induction day, I was seen by some locum (not my doctor), who proclaimed me as barely a centimeter dilated, and was very quick about it. After she left, I cried and was quite upset knowing how little chance I had of not having a c-section from that point onward what with all the medical intervention that would be required. Rob and I immediately went over to the hospital for a cervical ripener, and had to actually sign a release when informed that Cervadil could cause a very speedy, hard labour.

Prior to the Cervadil, I had my blood pressure taken and it was quite elevated at 143 over 90, probably because of how upset I was. This turned out to be a saving grace, as they didn't want to release me based on the blood pressure alone. So, at 1pm I was given the Cervadil, then admitted where I was told I wouldn't be leaving the hospital without a baby.

How Cervadil works is you get examined 12 hours later if you haven't gone into labour. This is when women are normally sent home. Intense contractions didn't begin for me until around 6pm or so, and had Rob and I wandering the halls to try and manage the pain/force labour into progressing. The contractions came in clusters, and I was very nervous as I was not yet admitted into the labour and delivery ward, and Rob would have to leave at 9pm when visiting hours ended on my ward. I was frightened of labouring on my own up to 4 centimeters until I'd be admitted and Rob would be able to come back and be with me(as yet another woman in our class experienced). It seemed as though all the things I was afraid of and trying to avoid were coming true.

Rob left at 9pm, and the contractions had settled to a manageable rhythm. I was even feeling sleepy and decided to get into my pajamas, turn the lights down, and try and get some sleep; we were both advised it could be a long day of labour. I had been in bed for hardly any time, Rob had only been gone 40 minutes, when I felt my water break in a big gush (a peculiar sensation that I still don't know if it was audible or was just an internal "whoosh"). I immediately pushed the nurse call button, and tried to get to the bathroom with as little mess as possible. I could barely get out of the bathroom and back to bed once the nurse arrived because the contractions were progressing rapidly. At that point I was 3 centimetres dilated and told it would likely take awhile.

Because I was GBS positive, antibiotics needed to be administered via IV as soon as my water broke, so that was a big focus. Unfortunately it took 3 attempts by different teams of people (nurses, residents and finally an anesthesiologist), which took close to an hour. I was desperate for pain medication, even at that point, as there was no spacing of contractions--no working up to 5 or 4 minutes apart, it was one minute, two minutes, one, one, one, and on it went. First I was told I could get a shot of morhpine, but that kept getting sidelined by the IV issue. Then I was told I could get pain meds via the IV, which of course wasn't in yet. Finally they located some laughing gas, and I went from 3, to 5, to 7 centimetres within an hour and a half.

Rob was called almost immediately, and appeared to be taking his time (at least forty minutes from my count). When he arrived, I believe I was using the laughing gas, I was in so much pain. I could feel the contractions build in the side of my belly like a heartbeat, which would clench and clench until it hit the peak. I prayed and prayed I would get more time in between to brace for the next contraction and try and relax from the previous one, but I had little reprieve. When the IV was finally in, I asked again for pain relief and the nurse actually sat down on the bed, took my hand, and told me it would be all natural. This was heartbreaking news at the time, as the pain was unbearable and had started and progressed much more quickly than I'd ever imagined it could.

After I was 7 centimeters dilated, they called for a room on the labour and delivery ward, but one wasn't available. Just as quickly it was and I was whisked away. From there things went very fast. It seemed I wasn't in my room long before I was being rushed to the delivery room. I can't remember when they put on the internal fetal monitor, which allowed us to hear the baby's heartbeat (in stereo it seemed, it was so loud). When the contractions would hit, I would suck on the laughing gas so hard it sounded like I was choking for my last breath through the mask, I was breathing so deeply. There were no other thoughts in my head beyond stopping the pain.

Then the urge to push hit me. My whole body trembled, and I vaguely understood what this meant, and that I could not yet push. I was finally told I could not yet push, and that's when we all heard the fetal heart rate audibly drop to a loud, slow and sickening thump, thump, thump that seemed to reverberate throughout the room (certainly throughout my pain induced, laughing gas haze) as compared to the cheerful quick staccato in between contractions.

I was measured again and was still 7 centimeters. I was then told I would need a c-section, as the baby was not "tolerating" the labour, and I remember signing off on a release form. I immediately asked if I would be getting pain medication, and was told there wasn't enough time for it, that I would need to be put fully under. Instead of being alarmed, I was more concerned about how quick they could make this happen. I was being wheeled to the OR (or whatever), as they fired questions at me about when I last ate, etc. The entire time they were prepping me, I just kept asking how long before I was under--HOW LONG?!

Rob was being rushed into scrubs and was then told he couldn't come in, so he had to listen to me howl as he waited outside in the hall. He saw person after person rush into the room, all while not knowing if everything was going to be alright. He was told, "Listen for the baby's cry." It wasn't long after he heard it, he was able to go in and see William sitting in the warmer all bright eyed. My water broke at 9:40pm and William was born at 12:59am. Rob can retell his side of the story now without welling up, but it was a challenge retelling it for up to at least a week after William's birth.


I was out for another two hours while Rob and William got acquainted in the nursery. When he was finally able to present William to me, I wasn't the least bit surprised Rob had a boy in his arms.

We both have since wondered if we would be able to endure this again for a second child (can't believe the thought has even crossed our minds at this point), but for now, we get to hold our little healthy William in our arms and thank God he arrived when he did.

Labour Day

And so it is, though I am not yet in labour.

Not yet.

The official due date was September 2nd, but I didn't get too hung up on that, as I know it's not always entirely accurate, and the baby and mother nature usually have other plans. A woman in our birth and babies class remarked at how patient I was, but at the time I wasn't yet overdue and was in no rush to have this baby. While I am still not frustrated or anxious about it, I do want it to happen naturally without medical encouragement.

To that end, Rob and I have started to push the labour envelope, only to be surprised when it appeared to have worked in the sense that painful contractions began within the hour (though sporadic), and are still occurring though not necessarily progressing in any obvious pattern. I started using the iPad contraction timer, much to Rob's dismay--who then decided he should pull an all nighter to finish the odds and ends not yet done around the house (which I quickly discouraged and easily talked him out of).

I understand labour to be an active process where you should stand, walk and move around to encourage your body to continue the process, except Rob and I decided we weren't "quite" ready, so I lay down to try and stall it instead. : ) We didn't anticipate it happening right away and want just "one more day". I'm curious to see how we'll feel tomorrow and if we are as gung-ho on our induction experiments as we were last night--though, we still know that natural is the best option, especially considering how much I want to avoid a c-section which increases the more medical intervention occurs.

I can't believe it's been 3 weeks since I stopped working. Sometimes I wonder how I've been filling my time, as previously mentioned, but I'm still sick (and at this exact moment coughing is an all-body engaging, stomach hugging intense experience--and a mind numbing reminder that labour itself will be much much worse--gasp). Trying to get over this never ending cold by resting as much as humanly possible has taken up a fair bit of time, along with the odd cleaning, and shopping and such. The new mothers and fathers in our baby class keep saying over and over, "get sleep now" (they actually mouth it when I simply glance their way), as if we didn't already know this, and to that end, I continue to nap whenever a series of yawns strike me.

I'm under no illusions that I'm physically or mentally prepared for labour, I just know it has to happen in order to meet our little boy or girl. When I watch breastfeeding videos, I become emotional at the thought of holding our little baby, and how much he or she will rely on Rob and I for love and all the necessities of life. I feel weepy at the thought of seeing their little feet, and holding a little hand.

And I have no idea just how much our lives are about to transform.

Any day now.

Ready or Not

I've only spent the past five days being sick, so I haven't gotten much accomplished baby-wise. What would I have been doing instead of combating a cold? Cleaning house, setting up car seats (getting them inspected--did anyone else do this?), clearing my trunk, cooking and freezing meals...isn't that enough?

What have I been doing? Having breakfast at a decent hour (after being up in the middle of the night for a minimum 2 hours), watching TV or being distracted with the iPad, and napping (if you can call going back to bed for 2 -3 hours a nap). I'm quite anxious at the prospect of going through labour sick, and even more alarmed at the notion of trying to mother a newborn while sick. Seems like a cruel joke for my body to come down with an instantaneous cold that despite all the sleep in the world continues to progress--first from sinuses to throat then to chest (if that is even any kind of medical progression). I harbour images of struggling to recover from a C-section while coughing--delirious from a lack of sleep--wondering if I'm developing pneumonia as I breastfeed and fretfully analyze my own baby's health on an hourly basis. I've used this image as a big green light to do as little as possible in an attempt to coax my body back to health before labour and my life as a mother truly begins.

I was finally feeling a tad better today so I dragged Rob to dinner and a movie (and had to remind him that despite his lack of interest and energy he was banking "relationship points", as I really needed to get out and spend time as a couple in what will be the last of our non-baby time together). The movie was the Expendables by Sylvester Stallone (and I must say one big pile of BS), because of course the movie we wanted to see was sold out in Imax on a Saturday night (Inception). I have to keep reminding Rob we will have little time for things like this over the next 3 months, and any type of couple time will be a substantial effort on our part involving babysitters and the like.

During the movie the baby was of course periodically kicking about, and I started to experience what I believe is my body's labour preparation--sharp electrical type currents running down into my pelvis and of course pressure. I have occasionally felt my abdomen tightening, but is always a tricky assessment because my belly is obviously running out of room for the baby so always feels big and firm at this point.

At 39 weeks the doctor hasn't done any type of exam so I've no idea if my body has progressed in terms of dilation. All I know is the thought of it all starting in the next few days leaves me breathless, as I know this is going to be more intense than I could ever have imagined, and more tiring than I'm prepared for. I really hope those joyful moments come quickly and often to give me the energy to carry through to establishing a "natural routine" with the baby.

Of course I'm excited to meet the baby, but I'm also anxious about its health--not just during or after delivery but the sheer magnitude of taking care of a little person for the rest of his or her life. Will I recognize any medical issue requiring attention, do I take a baby CPR class--should I have done this already? My mom is at the stage where she would like to be updated constantly, which drives me bonkers though I know is natural on both sides, but when you're sick, is particularly taxing. Add to that the family drama continues to unfold and will always be an unfortunate backdrop to the story of my life.

Our prenatal class is equally exciting and anxiety provoking, as one after another new baby arrives. We have three bundles to date, and at least 2 more on the way with couples being absent last class. It's quite thrilling to see Rob swaddle the creepy baby dolls (labelled as "baby" in pen on their feet), and then practise again at home on Winnie the poo as we sit together in the baby's room (a very nice moment and memory, indeed).

The baby's room: a highlight for sure. I can't believe Rob let me go with such a bold colour, which he worried afterwards was too intense for the baby, but looks quite charming with the contrasting accents of pictures and such. I like to go in there and just sit, even though there are still a last few last touches to be made (crib needs assembly, curtains need to be hemmed and hung--and if it's a boy, one last picture to be purchased and placed. Baby, if you're a girl--we will celebrate and love you all the same!)





I knew pregnancy would not magically transform me into a serene and equally relaxed individual, I just pray my faith and fortitude carry me through the challenges new motherhood will inevitably bring, and that I will intrinsically feel it's all been worthwhile in the end (keeping in mind there is no end to being a parent).


Because after all of that, ready or not, Baby, here you come. : )

Day One

After two hours of sleep, was up until 3:30 am. I had this brilliant flash I would assemble the rocking chair while watching Hope Floats which happened to be airing on TV. Once I had all the pieces out of the box, along with the screws and instructions, I realized I was far too uncomfortable to be monkeying around with all that crap--which looked laborious at best, so I gave up on the chair, gave up on the movie (right after the worst scene where the father refuses to take his daughter with him, leaving her screaming and crying by the car--which of course stressed me out) and instead distracted myself by beating all the top scores in Jawbreaker on our new iPad. : D

Rob asks, "Why can't we just share the high scores?" He doesn't understand it's not the owning of the high scores I want, it's the challenge of beating them to begin with. Once I beat the scores, I wait impatiently for him to set new records so I have something to strive for. A person's got to have goals.

Okay, back to Day One. I count it as today--Monday. Friday was my last day of work. The day before that my co-workers threw me a surprise potluck/baby shower (really, as there were presents), which was an absolute delight. But also made me feel guilty as I've been quite self absorbed during this pregnancy--no energy or desire to plan and think about much in advance; I feel like I'm taking things one day at a time, unfocussed at best, uncaring at worst--even our 2nd year wedding anniversary I put no thought into what-so-ever, and was happy enough we managed to get out to dinner.

Some co-workers in other depts sulked when they glimpsed our celebration (which was subtle). But I've done the "office party" thing: someone brought in a cake for me for my wedding, put up little signs day of, and it was brutal. After the initial cutting of the cake in front of a smattering of people, I sat there for an hour and a half over lunch while the odd person wandered in, politely inquired when the big date was, took a slice and left me alone with the enormous slab of orange and white iced Costco cake. UGH. I even guilted one woman into keeping me company while she ate her lunch. Never again, I vowed. Now I always avoid everyone else's office parties, assuming they have enough people without me. And I hate goodbye parties.

Back to Day One. I spent what you could consider the real day one (Saturday) working on the birth plan in light of having tested positive for GBS. The pregnancy books I've been reading gloss over this little gem with just a small blurb on the test itself, which my Doctor did not warn me was coming (much to the nurses surprise the day of the test) and I can't help but wish I'd known about sooner, as there's much information that suggests I could have treated it naturally had I realized it could be such an issue for the baby.

Despite whatever low percentages there are for actually passing this along to our baby, it changes the labour entirely and adds a very real level of anxiety to the birth process. Not to mention the antibiotics which appear to be standard issue once you test positive only treat the early onset of GBS, do nothing to eliminate the risk of death, and have no bearing on preventing late onset GBS. And when you think about what would cause late onset GBS, you slowly realize the baby would be contracting it from interacting with me, and then you realize you'd better get to sterilizing the daylights out of your house and all hard surfaces which could be carrying this "naturally occurring" bacteria that's perfectly harmless except for those with compromised immune systems such as pregnant women and babies.

Meanwhile, Rob says I should relax as I have the "hardest job of all" of carrying the baby. Right. Let me just finish decorating the room, buying crap for my hospital bag, finding my Dr Ho massager (I hope in and amongst the crap still to be cleared from the baby's closet) to ease the latest sharp pain reverberating throughout my left buttock, wash the rest of the baby clothes, wonder incessantly why I didn't order the baby's dresser online as I wait impatiently for a call from effin Toys R US, finish sterilizing every surface of our messy house--made worse now by my sad attempt at assembling the rocking chair, and get to preparing and freezing those meals that are supposed to make our lives easier once the baby arrives.

No wonder all I look forward to is setting the high scores of Jawbreaker. Oh yes, and I'm more than well aware that no matter what, this baby is on it's way, so I'm even more cognizant that the "more organized I am now the easier that transition will be".

So, now that it's Day One--where exactly do I begin?

Well, seeing as how I've had about 4 hours of sleep, broken up into two shifts from 9:30 to 11:30 and 3:30 to 5:30--I think the iPad and I are heading back to bed (window closed and ear plugs in, of course, to block out the never ending obnoxious West LRT construction noise).

Sigh.

17 Hour Ordeal

The pain started while driving: menstrual like aching across my lower back, and sharp mid abdominal pain. So much so, I thought of turning the car around and going straight back home. Except we were counting on the vegetables I was going to buy to go with the fish we were planning to have for that night's dinner.

As I walked around the store, my discomfort eased. My stomach felt a little more "full" than usual, but I'd just taken my blood pressure at the drug store, so I knew that was all good.

I had decided not to get the mini grocery cart I like so much, as I couldn't be bothered with the quarter, opting instead for the handheld basket--never a good idea, never mind when you're seven months pregnant. Of course, I ended up with all kinds of things in the basket, legitimately making it too heavy for me to sensibly carry, but still I forged on.

Even the bag of groceries I carried back to the car was obviously much too heavy, because I'd only brought one shopping bag with me and I refused to get a second plastic one. The drive back home was again extremely uncomfortable, reminding me of getting my period last October when I discovered I was no longer pregnant for the first time.

Back home, I only put away what groceries I absolutely had to and made it to the couch where I immediately laid down. Except it hurt more when I was on my back than when I was sitting in the car. Rolling over to my side, I found my breathing to be quite shallow and wondered not for the first time if this was what one element of labour would be like. As the pain subsided, I hoped this would be but a brief pregnancy phase.

Rob kept trying to encourage me to get things done regarding the baby room, and I kept insisting with my silence and stationary activity that wasn't going to happen. For the rest of Sunday, every time I sat up straight, I felt this pain mid abdomen and aching immediately flare up in my lower back to radiate higher and higher.

After as much TV as I could stand, a slow walk around the block, and several unsuccessful self diagnoses on the Internet, I finally went to bed. Everything seemed fine, except when I rolled over. The brief moment on my back produced an intense mid abdominal pain. During once such roll over, I got up and decided to walk around the house. After pacing back and forth for over 5 minutes, I tried another search on the Internet. But just as with the others, all I could discover was that menstrual like back pain or sudden onset back pain was not considered a good symptom, and mid abdomen pain was more difficult to diagnose--ranging anywhere from heart burn, to urinary tract infections. Not to mention that just sitting in the computer chair was causing me a tremendous amount of discomfort (say 7 out of 10 on the scale) which was taking longer and longer to ease off.

Still, I went back to bed. When I woke up in the morning to what seemed a worsening set of symptoms--taking special note of the level of intensity of discomfort while on my back, I decided to call Health Link. I thought perhaps they might refer me to my doctor, or a clinic, but they of course, referred me to the hospital. The nurse later said they always will--which should be reassuring except when it's coming from a nurse who is telling you to "keep this in mind" if/when you call Health Link.

So, after Rob got home from the gym at 6am, we trucked off to the hospital, me lying as prone with a pillow as possible in the passenger seat. Even though we were able to bypass emergency and go straight to the labour and delivery unit of Rockyview, we still ended up spending 17 hours there while the doctors practised due diligence in terms of ruling out a variety of the possible sources of my symptoms.

Many things were eliminated within the first four hours. But the final test was to be an ultrasound to make sure my placenta had not ruptured, which could be the source of that mid abdominal pain (which had lessened only to a small degree, but was still fully present when sitting and lying on my back). I was told around 2pm the ultrasound would not occur until after 4:30. Meanwhile, I had sent Rob to work as it didn't make sense for us to both sit around waiting for this final test--which didn't end up happening until 8:15 that night!

Cut to 11:30pm, where we finally decided we should leave the hospital (against medical advice we were told--which had always been an option). The people at the hospital had been very attentive in the beginning, and did periodically check in on me while I waited (very patiently, I might add) for the ultrasound, but we felt after 17 hours, there had to be a little more attention thrown our way.

When I told the resident I wanted to leave and just needed to know the risks, I also asked what the treatment would be if my placenta had ruptured--which I was told was TO DELIVER THE BABY. Riiiight. It was that kind of initial risk, which we hadn't even fully known, that kept me at the hospital for 17 hours to begin with. But the resident said she'd check with the doctor one final time and come back to advise us.

Lo and behold, the results of the ultrasound were able to be produced upon her return, and like all the other tests, were just fine. This was of course the best answer and clearly a relief; I did not need to find something wrong to feel justified in taking the precautions I had, however, I could not help but feel like an over reactive pregnant woman, or worse, a hypochondriac.

The pain was real.

The pain was getting worse.

I'm 31 weeks pregnant; I have to take abdominal pain seriously.

Still, I felt guilty.

Still, I second guessed--had I just rushed off to the hospital when I could have just assumed I was going through yet another uncomfortable phase in the pregnancy (even though the symptoms didn't seem to correspond with any typical phase)?

It's not like I wanted to spend 17 hours at the hospital, have 2 internal exams, have people fussing over the monitors that were placed on my belly which produced little charts to trace the baby's heart beat (for over 4 hours), and push a little button every time I felt the baby kick, all the while worrying about what was normal or enough.

Or not go to work for a second day because I was exhausted and still in discomfort from the original set of symptoms.

While I was waiting, I told Rob it was only time I was losing, and I felt the symptoms were serious enough not to ignore when I first went in, so how could that really change the longer I waited? How could I not make that decision again? The only thing was, contrary to all the symptoms, I was convinced my little baby was okay. I just wasn't convinced the symptoms were what they should be for this stage of the pregnancy.

MAH.

I want this baby to stay in there as long as possible, of course.

I have to wonder though, how long will it take before I'll feel like I have my body back?

In future, I absolutely will make sure I'm not lifting anything too heavy. I'm just not sure what that always means, but the notion of "placental rupture" will run through my mind the next time I attempt anything out of the ordinary lifting-wise.

Sweet Baby, just take it easy on Mommy, will ya?

Oh My

Has it really be over a month since the last post? How am I supposed to have clearly documented this momentous journey if I can only manage one post a month? And, what the hell have I been up to really?

Well, the baby's room is not done--so not that. : D

Robert and I did go to the US and buy some baby stuff, so that takes into account about 4 days. Family drama can account for about two weeks interspersed throughout the month (what a waste). And the rest, the occasional sleepless night, dental surgery, and general pregnancy malaise.

As an aside, I'm 37 now and wondering how we'll manage to get another child under our belt before the reproduction window closes. I don't even have the first one here and I'm already wondering how to get to the second.

Alas.

I've had the week off and it was supposed to be one of great achievement. I was to get the baby room all cleared out and ready for painting. Instead I've had to give Rob access to my Facebook and email account to change passwords so I'm not tempted to continue engaging in the current family drama (which has taken on a steamrolling effect of staggering intensity).

An in-law of mine is intent on degrading my mental stability, and appears to carry ill will towards the healthy birth of this innocent baby. How else would you explain a) the timing of these (what can only be called) attacks, and b) someone who would incessantly harass a pregnant woman for the purpose of making their own neuroses easier to swallow? How low can any one person sink? (Pretty low, judging by the emails I've been receiving and my therapist's reaction to some of the things which have been written, and I quote, "that must be one of the cruelest things that could possibly be said to someone in your circumstance"). Thank God I have a good therapist.

So, in order to protect my mental health and the well being of this little growing baby inside of me, I had to step back and cut off all contact with the social networking world to minimize the stress. It's been one hell of a "staycation".

Tomorrow I have the pleasure of hanging out in a clinic to do a second test regarding gestational diabetes, as the first one came back just over the acceptable limit--I'm sure due to the overwhelming stress my family has been putting me under. This second test involves a 3 hour visit in which I'm not allowed to leave the clinic, have to have fasted for 10 hours, and will drink 2 glucose orange drinks while I'm there. Yay.

To pass the time, I've purchased a cheeseball romantic movie for my ipod, and may take notes from a parenting podcast about sleep patterns for babies. I've also recently purchased the "Baby Whisperer", so I'm trying to retain as much of that information as I can before the baby bursts onto the scene.

On a happier note, the baby is kicking quite regularly now. And since I've stopped looking at my email and Facebook in anticipation of the next harassment, each time I feel the baby move, I have a smile on my face. Rob can feel him or her quite easily, and tonight he said, "To think, we're going to have a little person here in just 11 weeks!" To which I looked around the room at everything left to be done and felt some of the stress return.

I can't wait to find out if it's a girl or a boy. And I can't wait for the first little smile and laugh. And I can't wait to hold this little person and tell it how much I love it. Yes, I try not to imagine the poo, and the crying, and for the love of God the actual birth--so, I'll just skip ahead to the fun parts like most people do when they're falling in love with the idea of a baby.

I can't wait for this new little person to form my new family with Rob, which will also allow me to leave a part of the old family behind as my focus will be forcibly (thankfully) redirected.

As for pregnancy stages, I haven't felt my appetite increase, and I haven't noticed any long term cravings--though lately I'd like to drink a fair bit of apple juice (which I know I must control, especially if I'm to avoid any high intake of sugar, never mind full on gestational diabetes). I certainly feel tired, but I can't tell if that's attributable to the pregnancy or the family shit. The doctor says I'm measuring perfectly, despite my Mom and Dad making comments about "how big this baby's going to be".

But overall I think I've been pretty lucky as a pregnant lady, and here's praying that continues on through to holding a little bundle in my arms who looks just as tired as I know I'm going to be after the ordeal, and looks as equally baffled by the world around us, but maybe has Rob's eyes, or my nose, and is grateful for all the love we have to give.

Sweet Baby (rubs belly), I can't wait to meet you!

Get on It

Okay, it's time to get in gear. I'm 6 months pregnant, we have 3 months to Baby, and we've done very little to prepare. Sure we've got some cute stuff, but nowhere near what we need. Room's not ready, I'm not ready, Rob's not ready--we need to get on it!

Rob is going to be exhaused from golf this morning, as he also golfed for the first time of the season on Thursday. What he's not going to be prepared for is my sudden urge to get shit done.

I've got Jorge coming over tomorrow to help move the existing furniture out of the spare beadroom (the plan which Rob is not aware of), and ultimately into our room. This will be quite a shock as we're used to having a certain amount of space in the master bedroom. But it's not like it's a temporary change. Alas! I believe it's time to pull the bandaid off! I'm tired of looking at the spare room and everything that needs to be done to change it into the Baby's room.

We head to the US next week where we hope to get some necessary baby things (stroller, Beabu, etc)--then I want to get on the painting (or Rob rather), and I want the room ready by the end of June at the latest.

Now's the time.

Baby, Now That I've Found You I Won't Let You Go

I think I felt the baby kick.

I can't be sure, because it didn't feel like what has been described, and really it could still be too soon at 21 weeks today. Also consider the placenta is at the front of my uterus--which acts as padding in terms of me feeling the baby. Amanda didn't feel anything until 23 weeks, and her placenta was at the back, so it's hard to say.

I was lying on my back and felt kind of a poke on the inside--almost like a puff of air. I felt it again in the same spot a moment later, and then another in the same area. Hard to get excited when I don't know if that's the baby or not, but I can't wait for the first time for Rob to feel it--that's bound to be a very special moment. The other day we put earphones up to my belly and played a Bruce Springsteen song (he'll have to share what it was, as I'm not that familiar). He was a tiny bit emotional as he sang along. : ) Now that I know the baby can hear me, I've been talking to it a bit more. Just little things like telling it how much we love it, and how excited we are about it coming along. Makes me feel shy. Overall, I can't believe how vulnernable being pregnant makes me feel.

Had a huge shopping trip at Motherhood Maternity not that long ago, and I rationalized all my purchases by reminding myself I would get a lot of wear out of these clothes over the next four months, so the cost per unit will go down considerably the more I wear each item. Of course you would expect a photo, but I'm still leery of the camera. I know I'll want to get a few, so there's some time yet. What a fantastic store, by the way! Tons of price points, styles, it completely made up for my other maternity shopping experience and has actually made me excited to show off the baby bump.

Went with Amanda to a "Mom to Mom" sale in Okotoks on the weekend. If we'd have known the sex, I'm sure there would have been a ton of clothing purchased, but as it was I got a baby swing, Snugli and a tiny rocking horse for the baby's room. : ) All at pretty good prices, and in reasonable shape.

Having the baby swing in our place is a little surreal, as it's a larger piece of baby furniture. On Sunday I came downstairs to Rob puttering around in the kitchen and the swing was set up just outside the living room couch. I thought, "This is what it's going to be like--only a little baby will be watching in wonder." Quite nice. I can't say enough how lucky I am to have Rob to share this experience with. Aside from the the baby itself, I'm most looking forward to watching Rob turn into a father.

Almost fainted at a Baby Budgeting class the other night. I don't think it was blood sugar related, or heat induced, but I lost hearing in one ear, and the world around me paled a bit as I sat there with my eyes closed breathing and praying for it to pass. Kind of frightening. Nothing like that since then, so hopefully just a blood flow thing.

So far I seem to be craving a lot of milk, even though I drink a fair bit regularly--and if chocolate milk wasn't so high in sugar, I'd drink that by the gallon. My "reduced sugar" Quick makes for a nice substitute, but there's little that can compare to the thick chocolately goodness of actual chocolate milk. And I still want grape flavored things. Not like real grapes, but the artificial grape flavor, making grape koolaid a current favorite. I'd also drink the welch's grape juice non-stop, again, if it wasn't so damn high in sugar. If only restaurants had grape juice on tap and I then could get a grape and soda whenever I'm out...mmmm....grape soda....

Started my pre-natal yoga class last week. First class was with a substitute teacher who declared several times she had never taught pre-natal yoga. Thanks for freaking us all out! Jeez.... If the regular instructor wasn't so pleasant, I'm sure we'd all have been quite vocal at our second class. Overall it was a good experience. I'm a little self conscious that some of the thinner mommies-to-be look about the same size as me, despite being farther along, but I think the class as a whole will help me get over it, as it's too late to go back now! Rob has also mentioned that watching me grow has been a moving experience for him, so that was quite nice to hear.

Working on a Dream

Ahhhh, 3 more days to the half way mark. The Doctor says I have a low risk pregnancy at this point, and actually looked relieved when he saw me. He said he was very happy I was "still pregnant"--which he said a few times and is something I'd find quite alarming if I wasn't basically 20 weeks and doing fine.

Heard the little heart beat at around 150 beats per minute. : ) The 19 week ultrasound showed the baby kicking up a storm, which if the placenta were not in the front of my belly I might be able to feel, as he/she was pretty much standing on my bladder at the time. A few tears leaked out when I saw the baby moving all about. I was overcome with the feeling that I wanted the baby to be okay--it was quite profound. Especially when you consider I've never been baby crazy, or all hopped up on the baby train. Rob looked over at me during the appointment and exclaimed, "Are you crying?!" Well, yes, yes, I am. And he'd better get used to it, apparently.

I was an emotional wreck this past weekend; I was wound up from Rob's birthday on Saturday and had at least 2 crying sessions over it (thought his presents weren't good enough, was stressed about when we said we should get to the bar for Karaoke, then more stressed when we did get there and had to figure out seating arrangements, and capped it off feeling irate over the UFC fighting that went on until 11pm--leaving Karaoke starting 2 hours later then expected). Add to that, my family has always placed a high importance on birthdays and gifts, and although Rob and his family never have, it's hard to shake that kind of learned pressure over 36 years. I just want the man to be happy on his day; he deserves it and I want him to feel special because I love him so dearly--and I'm getting all emotional again.

I cried when Phil Mickelson won the Masters on Sunday, so I can see the direction my moods are heading. In my defense it was when he hugged his wife Amy who has been battling breast cancer, and there was a tear running down his face.

But right now, right now I'm quite happy. I booked today off in advance, and after the dr's appointment, I went and bought a few cute baby things (little baby bootie rattles--which I don't know if they even make sense, but I wanted them none the less). It's all from Winners, so at least I'm not spending a fortune.

I did manage to get what I hope is a stylish top from there, as well (and no, they do not have a maternity section. However, a number of tops in the plus section are slightly maternityish--too bad for those ladies!) I tried picturing Heidi Klum in the shirt, and thought I could see it, so I headed for the checkout (I've been watching Project Runway online, and right now she's pregnant. Surprisingly, I'm not that impressed with the tops she's been wearing, and she must have access to all kinds of stores. Mmmph).

When I got home I purchased Sleepytime Tunes: Bruce Springsteen Lullaby Tribute from iTunes and I'm listening to it now, so of course there's a big smile on my face. So pleasant. I just need to pipe the music into my belly now.
: )

As you may have guessed, we did not find out the sex of the baby; Rob wanted the surprise, I did not. Alas. That was our last ultrasound, also (barring anything unusual happening) and we checked at the Doctor's appointment--they do NOT have the sex on file, so there will be no spoilers for Rob ala Office style (where Pam accidentally reveals the sex as they leave for the hospital--she had phoned the Dr's office in advance because she couldn't wait to find out).

And all this, I'm sure is my way of avoiding homework which is due tomorrow. I can not wait for this writing class to be finished! Wednesday I start prenatal Yoga, which I hope will help ease some of my moodiness. The Dr, however, says how I'm feeling is all perfectly natural, and even though Rob wasn't sure he needed to be at this latest check up, I'm confident it didn't hurt for him to hear that. : P

All Baby All The Time

Yup. I'm one of those annoying women who is consumed by her pregnancy (sometimes I show it, but not always). I wouldn't go as far as to say I'm smug, though.

Whatever, it's my body, my baby. : D And here in my blog world, I will choose to write about it as often as I like. My friend Amanda only wrote about her pregnancy on Wednesdays , but considering the blogger's block I've suffered from over the past year, I'm going to take advantage of a positive effect of the pregnancy--I feel like sharing and this is something personal and uplifting I can write about. Plus, it's not like I have a legion of followers to lose. Worst case I lose 2 out of the 4 readers that occasionally stop by.

[Side note to explain my defensiveness: last year I stumbled upon some Brat Free websites where people who do not want children "rant" about "breeders" and "moos"--which is putting it mildly. I've never come across anything so vile and upsetting, but then again I don't typically troll the web looking for the bottom of the barrel of humanity, either. Still, I can't help but wonder how many of these people have glared at me and my bump all the while seething with hatred. Ever since then I've felt the need to defend my choice to have a family and my happiness over it.]

Having said that, I doubt I'll be quoting pounds gained, or showing regular belly photos. Maybe the odd monumental baby bump pic, but so far I've only allowed Rob to take one--and it wasn't particularly charming. Despite my eagerness to talk about said bebe, I'm not of the "pregnancy is the most beautiful time in a woman's life" mindset. A little sad, I know.

Well, maybe just one. From St Patrick's Day. : )


Anyway, I'm 17 weeks today and experienced what I feel was the first definitive emotional manifestation of pregnancy hormones.

While walking into work I heard the honk of a goose (I assume). My thought, "I hope that is not an animal in distress." No dramatic images flooded my mind; I can't even say for sure it was a goose; I just had the one thought. Then I felt tears coming on. I quickly reasoned myself out of the reaction, but when I retold the story a few times to coworkers, I found myself getting emotional all over again (I even cried once).

Luckily I work with fabulous women who helped me laugh it off.

I have a feeling this is just the start of the emotions to come, and I really hope those around me give me a wide berth with regards to my "Baby Brain."

Baby Bump Blues

Made it through the first bout of baby bump blues. It's really just baby blues, but if the baby isn't here yet, and it's just a bump...you get it.

It took several days to get past an unfortunate visit with the dentist, something I don't normally react well to, but was exacerbated by the pregnancy. It started with the natural worry about x-rays (which I researched prior to going for the visit to begin with, and followed up with a friendly call to the office to ask if my treatment would change due to the impending bebe).

The appointment took a turn for the worse when the x-ray technician couldn't get a good scan and proceeded to take 6 x-rays, making the comment, "I always have one patient." To which I responded, "Except I'm pregnant and you're freaking me out." Her response? "Oh." Silence. "Ten of these are equal to one."

What does that mean exactly? And because I can easily take on a victim role in the dentist's chair (childhood issues, I think), I said nothing. When the dentist was filling me in on the follow up treatment and I mentioned my due date, he just paused. So between the two of these professionals, I felt as though I hadn't done my job as a mother informing them adnauseum of my pregnancy (despite the rescheduling of the appointment twice and the third call directly asking about the effects on the pregnancy).

Women at work initially bore the brunt of my emotional fallout. Why didn't you say anything to begin with, was always the first question. Because the office knew and knew and knew, I responded--and I researched it in advance! But still, I worried. And when I got home to Rob, the crying started. It was all so avoidable, I sniffled. Are you going to blame me if there's something wrong with the baby, I cried. Finally after much distressing research on the net--both positive and negative, I just called the office and left a message asking exactly how much radiation I had been exposed to.

The dentist himself called me back the next day. My main question, would my treatment have changed had they known or acknowledged I was pregnant? He reassured me that no, it would not have, and yes, he himself knew I was pregnant. He gave me some technical figures about the x-ray exposure itself, and I felt better for having clearly communicated what I needed, and for being heard as a pregnant patient.

Despite this much needed reassurance, I carried the feelings of inadequacy into the weekend and stewed on them subconsciously. Between the dental pain I was experiencing, the abdominal cramps from the baby, and reading the baby books about how much I was going to bond with my mother over the pregnancy--I hit my emotional breaking point.

There are issues I can't even publicly discuss about my mother, so how the hell can this be our grand bonding time? And of course, what kind of mother is that going to make me? Normal, typical, expected questions, even. Doesn't mean they make me feel any less shitty.

Let the comparisons begin. Who do I know with a wonderful mother? Blah, blah, blah. How many female friends do I know with fabulous support systems, yada, yada, yada. Mental neuroses is so predictable and oh-so-tired, but debilitating none the less.

Having made my way through the cloud to the other side (the here and now), fuck that. I'm going to be a damn good mother--my own mother and childhood be damned. I go to therapy. I figure my shit out.

I'm progressive, modern, and aware.

Screw you, insecurity.

Hello, baby. : )

Yes, at some point, my life will be edited for cursing.

But not yet.

Yeah, Baby!

A few baby anecdotes.

When Rob and I were trying to get pregnant, it seemed as though it would truly never happen. Meanwhile, Rob's co-workers were either pregnant, announcing they were pregnant, or had just had babies. This was occuring with such regularity, his boss commented, "Must be something in the water!"

Picture the light bulb going off above Rob's head, and thus, the fertility water was born. Rob would take this water bottle to work and fill it specifically from that water cooler then bring it home. and take it back for a refill as often as possible.

It's just too sweet, I haven't been able to remove the sticky note. : )

***

Happy Birthday, Grandpa!

Rob's Dad's birthday is today and he's been quite grumpy about turning another year older. He went so far as to email Rob saying his phone would be off and not to bother sending him any birthday wishes. Thus the covert operation: "Happy Birthday from Baby" card was born. Rob picked out an ultrasound photo, added the Birthday caption, and arranged for a relative in South Africa (where they vacation every year for a few months) to purchase a Grandpa birthday card and handle the delivery until the "Baby Eagle had landed".

Apparently the old guy softened up just enough to actually speak to a few members of his family that evening, which is saying a lot.

13 weeks 4 days

O.M.G.

Well, I suppose it was more OMG when I actually saw the positive pregnancy test, but after you've been trying for awhile, it's more joy and less surprise when you finally get the second blue line, or whatever equals a positve result with the test you're using for the moment.

And you think once you've seen one baby, you've seen them all--not so. When the picture is of your baby, it really means something. Rob and I went in for the second ultrasound last Thursday, and the first image we saw was the baby squirming about. Aside from that being a major relief, it was amazing. Rob was on his feet and staring in awe between the screen and I on the table. The technician told us she had to do some measurements and she'd come back to the baby, but that first shot of it moving--kicking--was thrilling. After she took the measurements and came back to the baby, it let out a few more kicks. Rob had tears in his eyes after she left the room.

Aside from the baby itself, my second favorite thing about the pregnancy is sharing it with Rob. I've always had misgivings about becoming a mother--not because I don't think I'd be fantastic, but because I don't harbour any unrealistic expectations of the sacrifice and committment it takes, and how utterly life changing becoming a parent really is. Sharing this experience with Rob has taken away a lot of the gut reaction anxiety and fear, and again, not because I know it's not going to be challenging, but because I have a wonderful partner to share this with. Seeing Rob's excited, awestruck, relieved face was worth it. I can't imagine what I'll feel once we see the baby's face after it's born.

Now after holding the news in for sooooo long, being able to finally tell people is making me giddy! I'm "bingoing" all sorts of people with the information--fully understanding not everyone is genuinely happy for me, but I don't care. I'm pregnant. It makes me happy. I wasn't sure how I would feel, as I'm such a realist about the whole motherhood thing, but now that we've been told it's a low risk pregnancy, and everything looks as good as it can--I'm bloody excited!

Purchases so far:
- one random light for the baby's room (cute solar powered "plane ride light", which I've wanted for my "baby" the first moment I laid eyes on it in a toy store).
- Western baby onesie--of course, soooo cute.
- Flames baby onesies. Ahhh, the joy of purchasing for the future little person is so fun in itself!

Symptoms:
- hardly any of which to speak of. No nausea, hardly any aroma issues, odd physical things here and there, but compared to this woman at work who's at least 6 months pregnant and still on anti-nausea pills--I'm laughing. The symptoms have been so few, I was worried it meant there was something wrong with the pregnancy.

People told so far: Both parents, many at work, brothers, close friends. We didn't make any ceremony out of it with friends, as we just felt so tentative. Now that a few days have passed and we feel a bit more confident and excited, I realized we could have "done it up" a bit, but once the baby gets here, there will be plenty of attention all around.

Of course my Mom is already talking about being in the delivery room, so I'm working on letting those expectations down for her. : ) I'm just trying to get used to the idea there's a little being growing inside me. What with no symptoms for so long, I truly felt maybe it wasn't real. Even after the first ultrasound, and the picture of the little baby bean on the screen, I didn't think it was real.

Now I know, this is real.

Picture this

There's this thing I do where I ask myself if I can picture something becoming a reality in an attempt to determine the likelihood of it actually becoming a reality. Like when I was dating Rob and would sleep over, I would look around and see if I could picture living there with him, or being married to him. Now I look around and try to picture a child stumbling across the furniture, or me having a big belly and waddling around in discomfort, or us getting up in the middle of the night or morning to soothe and feed a wriggling baby.

I always wonder if I have a hard time picturing it, does that mean it's not going to happen? For the most part I think the answer is yes. And I never seem to revisit the picture to determine if I have been right or wrong.

For a long time I've thought I wouldn't be able to have children...and I seriously doubt I'll be able to. I can't picture our spare bedroom as a babies room. I can't picture a baby pulling themselves up to stand on our coffee table, and I can't picture me coming out of the bathroom holding a stick with a couple of lines on it, or a plus, or however "positive" happens to show.

And I really think I should just give up trying altogether. Just accept it's not going to happen because I can't picture it. Give up the grief of it.

Regardless of how I've ever come across or been labelled, I've actually persevered through all of the shit that has been my life and continues to be thrown my way. If I hadn't, I wouldn't have continued to work on myself; I wouldn't have gotten remarried; I just wouldn't be.

I'm turning 36. That seems a little old to be trying anyway. It's not like I'll be able or willing to afford several thousand dollars to force nature's hand, or able to afford a nanny or two for some inevitable batch of triplets.

I really thought I'd be a good mother, too.

I generally try not to beat my head against the same wall over and over again expecting a different result. After trying and trying to get a job in communications, outside of broadcasting, I finally gave up when it was obvious I didn't have the experience. I finally accepted I didn't have what an employer wanted.

I'm closer to accepting my ovaries don't cooperate.

Why should they, anyway? Life isn't fair. The greatest injustice is we someone learned it should be.

I've had enough happen to me to know the scales are not balanced and they never will be.

Karma is simply not a bitch.

And hope is not a strategy.

All anyone can do

What we refer to as the "change period" just wrapped up at work. I could wax on about why or why not we refer to the first two weeks of university as the change period, which culminates on the last day of adding, dropping courses and paying fees (this past Friday), but that's really beside the point.

My point being, I made it through. At least two hours of overtime every day, partial breaks, millions of dollars cashiered, balanced and deposited--I was in charge of the fees side of the house managing a small team of people--and we did a great job. The whole operation was relatively smooth. I kept the area organized and we're on target in terms of payments left to process. My boss says I should feel a sense of satisfaction; she felt confident I had things well under control. But after all the anticipation and anxiety surrounding the arrival of this month, it feels anticlimactic now that it's over.

But I may just be reacting to finding out I'm not pregnant (once again). I suppose it's not been that long, 3 months if you're counting, but after the concerted effort of trying not to get pregnant when you're younger, you hope it will happen quite easily once you decide you're "ready". All the while in the back of your mind you wonder if you even have the option. Will the second friggin line ever show up?

The whole process is stressful. Timing things out, waiting, testing. Not drinking. Not eating Caesar salad. Not taking advil. Is this a symptom, is that a symptom? You start to understand how a woman could have a hysterical pregnancy. Never mind all the people who get pregnant no problem, despite weight, how much they drink/smoke/do drugs, while some perfectly healthy people have no chance at all.

How does a person come to terms with this? Or anything else for that matter? There's no such thing as just "relaxing" and "letting it happen." Never mind if you're me. I'm methodical. Linear. There is a logical way of approaching things; it does not involve going with the effin flow. No pun intended.

Is there really a larger plan? Is it more likely that life is a random series of tragedies, luck and nonsensical events all strung together?

Mah.

And I'm reminded of the wasted years. 7 wasted years. If I had those seven years back, Rob and I could have had more time together before attempting a family. Maybe I'd be up right now blogging about how our second baby is keeping me up at night instead of bemoaning my circumstance in a dimly lit room tap tap tapping in front of a glowing monitor. Sigh.

My ex sauntered into the fees area of the University on Friday. We saw one another, I turned my head and kept on walking. Less than a minute later I looked over and he was gone. I have no idea why he was there. What would I say anyway? How's your second wife--the woman you cheated on me with? Do I want to hear if she's pregnant or that you might have twins because that's how life works?

Maybe I just shouldn't watch Grey's Anatomy or ER before bed time. There's some unrealistic nonsensical bullshit. This is where a person gets ridiculous expectations of everything tying together in karmic fashion. I can also blame years and years of reading Harlequin novels. Maybe if I hadn't repressed my teenage angst in stacks and stacks of trashy romance, I'd have had sensible judgement and seven more fertile years.

Maybe I just have to get over it, because hope is what I do have and you can't be all that self indulgent because it just doesn't get you anywhere.

You have to choose to be optimistic.

And remember the good things.

Good friends.

Good family.

A good husband.


"To bear up under loss.
To fight the bitterness of defeat and the weakness of grief.
To be victor over anger.
To smile when tears are close.
To resist evil men and base instincts.
To hate hate and to love love.
To go on when it would seem good to die.
To seek ever after the glory and the dream.
To look up with unquenchable faith in something evermore about to be.

That is what anyone can do, and so be great."

Bitten

I'm being slowly bitten by the baby bug. God help me, God help us all.

It scares the hell out of me.

I'm not sure if I'm ready. I'm sure my body isn't ready. And I wish the clock wasn't ticking so loudly it's drowning out the rest of the alone time I have with my Sweet Robert.

How will I have enough energy to deal with a baby when I barely have the energy to plan a wedding and complete one stupid writing class? How will I give up Advil and Sinutab?

Will it all be worth it? My Mom complains none of us children see her enough, or call her enough, or think of her enough. How will I make sure to give my children everything they need and still nourish and develop my own interests? How will I separate my role as a mother from my own sense of self?

Do you think other women truly comprehend what it means to have a baby? Or do you think most people stumble blindly down the procreation path guided by little more than a Winnie The Poo nightlight?

Does my Mom look around at her three children and feel blessed and proud she brought us into this world? Do my parents feel like the sacrifices were worth it?

I wonder how many people really think about their reasons for wanting children before the sperm hits the egg.