Tag Archives: Pregnancy

Open Letter to Baby L at 8 Months

Dear Lilah,

You turned a whopping 8 months old yesterday. As always, I am amazed at how much new stuff you do every day. And how much more personality you have today than last week. You are beautiful and you are my favorite squishy little thing in the whole world.

This past month, however, your father and I announced to the Universe, that we are growing another squishy little thing. This time, it will be a boy and we will name him Oliver, after my grandfather (your great-grandfather) whom you never got to meet but who would have loved you to itty bitty little pieces and who would have told you really terrible jokes but they would have made you laugh anyway. Because your great-grandfather was best at making everyone smile. Daddy and I were not planning on having another squishy one for another year or so, but it seems your brother couldn’t wait to join us. And it seems that the Universe was ready to give him to us. Your father and I graciously accept.

The birth of your brother will happen right after your first birthday. And while I had hoped I would have more time alone with you before we welcomed more squish into the family, I am starting to get really excited at the prospect that you and Oliver will be best friends. That thought warms my heart and brings tears to my eyes.

When you were born, my dearest love, I was SURE that I could not love another human being with the intensity with which I love you. And it has managed to grow ever stronger in these past eight months. Welcoming your brother is scary to me because I can’t imagine loving someone else with that same intensity. I am told that this won’t be an issue. And I am sure that I will love each of you with the same fervor and dedication. I look forward to seeing your interactions with each other and your different personalities emerge. I am so excited for you, little one, to get to experience a sibling (even if I am not quite ready, myself) because, and you probably already know this if you are reading this letter, my own sister is one of my very favorite people. I couldn’t ask for anything more for you than to have a built-in best friend. A sibling is, indeed, a really wonderful thing to have.

You have started to show me that you are readying yourself for crawling. Which terrifies me because you will no longer be that cute little thing that stays where I put you and just lets me know when you are done with it. You will move yourself around and you will grab things and put them in your mouth. You will eventually walk and I will be a nervous wreck. And I will be chasing you and wearing your brother all at the same time. These are exciting times for you, my dear. You are becoming a real, honest-to-goodness, mobile human being. And this saddens me in some ways because it won’t be long at all before you are running around like a crazy person and no longer fall asleep in my arms.

Speaking of sleep, I think we should also discuss how little of that you are doing these days. You know, before I forget. You went, two months ago, from sleeping 8-9 hours independently to insisting upon sleeping in between your father and me in our bed every night. I have tried to trick you. I have tried to let you cry until you calm and fall asleep. (Which, by the way, does not work at all for a couple of reasons. One being that I am fairly certain that you could cry FOREVER, or it maybe just seems like that to me. And two, because I can’t bear to hear you cry. It breaks my heart into pieces every time.) I am not a fan of this phase you are going through because, for such a tiny thing, you sure do take up a hell of a lot of room. Your father and I sleep in the same position all night for fear that we will hurt you or disturb YOUR sleep. (Which isn’t really fair because, really, you don’t have any job to get to in the morning.) Needless to say, I am going to start this “sleep training” thing that I hear so much about VERY soon. (I am only waiting on the necessary instruction manuals to come in the mail. And then it is ON, little one.) I will definitely miss my cuddle time. But I desperately miss sleeping. Because I am pregnant. And if I don’t sleep, I become a scary monster and your father hides from me. Rightly so.

Anyway, you are still the love of my life. You are so beautiful, I sometimes can’t stop myself from staring. You are my everything, little girl. And I promise you, brother or no brother, I will love you always. More and more and more. Every day. Until the day that I die.

Love,

Mom

Sibling!

Sibling! (Photo credit: Gus Dahlberg)

Sleep? What is THAT?

sleep

sleep (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)

So, MB and I have had this kind of unspoken agreement that I will get up with Baby L should she wake in the middle of the night, since he, after all, has to wake up before 5 am to make it to work on time. This went really well for months because Baby L rarely woke up during the night and I was functioning at approximately 95% (depending on how many glasses of wine I’d had after the wee one went to sleep). Now that Baby L is waking up 3,025 times per night and I am knocked up, cranky and totally exhausted, this arrangement is just pissing me off.

I know that MB has to work. And I know that he is doing so to assure that I don’t have to and that I can, like I had wanted to, stay home with Baby L and not miss any of the cool things she learns to do. (On this list of cool things, however, I did not include “learning how not to nap and then get terribly angry and stay that way for the rest of the day”.) And I genuinely appreciate this. I really do. But, internet, I am freaking tired. And not the normal, I have a baby kind of tired. It is the “I have a baby and I am currently growing another one WAY too soon” tired and I am not sure what to do about it. On the one hand, I feel like waking MB up in the middle of the night by banging on his head with rattles and the like. On the other hand I feel like I should really just respect that this is the path that I chose. I am the full-time SAHM and I am responsible for the baby stuff at night so that my wonderful husband can go to work and function properly in the morning.

And because Baby L has been a crazy, weirdo when it comes to sleeping lately, and she usually (always, at least for a couple of hours a night) ends up in the bed with us, I feel even MORE uncomfortable than I would normally be. With or without this new parasite.

I’ve tried to nap. But I am back on the insomnia train. You know the one, ladies, where the minute you actually have time to sleep, you can’t. Because your body hates you. Either that, or I fall into a deep, delicious slumber and Baby L starts to scream like someone is peeling her skin off. Because not only does my body hate me, it appears that my child also hates me.

I am starting to wonder if I will ever sleep again. I remember wondering this when I was pregnant with Baby L, but…this? This is much, much worse. What is a mama to do?

Broken Condoms…Reloaded (Alternately Titled “Holy Shitballs” Which Seems to be the Common Response)

Seriously, I know the title sounds a little gross. And I also know that I might get some serious weirdos starting to hang around…but I will have to deal with it. Because I am too tired to think of a clever title that fits this post. Because, internet, I’m knocked up again.

And yes. You read that right. I, Broken Condoms lady, reluctant mommy blogger, is knocked up AGAIN. And before you all start dropping like flies with the sheer shock of it all, let me go ahead and clear everything up for you. Please feel free to let me know if I leave anything out…

1. Yes. I was taking birth control pills. And yes, we were also using condoms on the rare occasion that I actually let my husband touch me. Because pregnancy was enough to scare me into wearing a titanium suit around him if I had to. None of this worked, evidently. Hence this post. (Grrr…)

2. How do I feel about this whole mess, you ask? Well, internet, I feel a lot of things. I’ve been keeping this under wraps for awhile so a lot of that emotional shit, I have since come to terms with, but let me try and run you through what I have experienced thus far. First there was denial. I think that when your first child is 5.5 months old and you find out that you are, indeed, expecting again, the first thing that happens in your brain (especially if you have been taking any and every means of preventing this from happening) is that you decide that it can’t be true. It has to be some cruel joke that the Universe is playing on you. Wait, is it April Fools’ Day? You got me, Universe, you really, really got me. But then you start to vomit and you think, “Hey, I must have a stomach bug.” Seriously. I convinced myself for 4 days that the positive home pregnancy test was the Universe playing a joke and that the morning sickness was actually just a stomach bug. After I puked a few more times, though, I just started to have a little breakdown. I kept thinking about all the things I was about to have to do (AGAIN) that drove me so crazy the first time. You know, like the not sleeping (which I am, obviously, currently not doing anyway) and the back pain and the intense need for double cheeseburgers from McDonalds. And then I cried a lot. Daily. For a LONG TIME. I considered options. And I discussed everything with MB (who, by the way, was in support of whatever I decided even though he felt that we, as a couple, are strong enough to do this shit all over again. Curses.) I stared at my daughter for hours and contemplated the birth of our second child and what it would mean for us and our family. I reasoned with myself about eventually wanting to have another child in the next couple of years anyway and how having this baby would make me…well…DONE with childbearing. And that thought gave me solace. But then I cried some more. Because, holy crap, internet, the kids will only be a year apart! And how will I chase a child who will inevitably be starting to walk and carry a newborn around and not sleep all while MB is at work all day?! How will I manage?! But then I stared at my daughter some more. And I thought about how hopeless I felt when I found out I was pregnant with her. And how doubtful of my abilities I was before she was born. And I felt a little bit better. Because dammit, I am a fantastic mom. Am I necessarily ready to be the “mother of two”? No. But was I ready to be a “mother of one”? Hells no.

The acceptance part started after I had to go to the Health Center and get a proof of pregnancy again so I could start the medicaid process (because, though, MB and I are now married, my insurance did not start until January 1st) AGAIN. (Which, if you remember, was pretty much the worst thing EVER for me.) A week later, the crying had stopped, for the most part, and shockingly, the Health Department had my Medicaid set up before I showed up for my appointment. (I didn’t have to make a SINGLE PHONE CALL.) I saw that as a good omen. And then I was all set to hear the heartbeat of the baby (as it was estimated that I was about 14 weeks along at this point) and the PA couldn’t find it on the Doppler. And this might sound crazy. Or horrible. Or whatever…but I was actually relieved. I felt like this might be my “out”. She set me up with an Ultrasound (which was more than three weeks away) and sent me on my way. To panic some more. Needless to say, I started the processes all over again, thinking that it might just be a fluke. Hello, denial.

My ultrasound was yesterday afternoon. I told my sister-in-law in the morning what the situation was and she offered to come with me to the appointment in case MB couldn’t get home from work in time. MB made it home at the speed of light and the three of us trekked downtown and, just like that, I’m gonna have a little boy. Due June 6th, 2013.

3. So, yeah, I know I didn’t answer “how do you feel NOW?” in that monster paragraph up there. The truth is. I feel peaceful. Obviously, fat. And sleepy. And a little scared. But also a little relieved that this whole thing is already almost half-way over and no one could tell I was pregnant (SCORE!). I haven’t gained any weight. I haven’t been nearly as sick as last time. Things have been fairly uneventful. So, do I feel good about the whole thing? Ehhh…I don’t know if GOOD is the right adjective. But I feel okay. I am alive, I am healthy. My baby is healthy. And I still have a wonderful partner and a beautiful daughter to remind me that this is not the end of the world. (Because, in some intense moments, I feel like I could lose it.)

4. I haven’t told EVERYONE in the world yet. By that, I just mean that I haven’t announced the news on Facebook. And I probably won’t do a giant, “We’re pregnant!!!” post. Because the people who matter have either already been told or will be soon enough. I don’t need to tell 200 more of my closest friends. Also, I am still sorting out the fact that I feel sort of ashamed that I let this happen so soon after having Baby L. Yes, I know I did all I could to prevent it, internet. But it feels so…irresponsible. Seriously. I mean, come ON, internet. Who DOES this?

(As I type this, THIS is what is happening on my TV. How can I not be optimistic?!)

http://youtu.be/DkLRXMBFtYo

Anyway, so that’s what’s going on over here. And maybe why I have been sort of distant lately. Please don’t break up with me, internet. I can’t do this alone!

Growing Together

Today, for the first time, I woke up at 5:30 am and NOT because the baby was hungry and starting to cry her little face off. Nope, I woke up, out of the blue and I could NOT go back to sleep. And, of course, I wrote a blog post in my head. And it was a really good one. And then I got up and fixed breakfast, ate, had some coffee, got the baby fed…and then the blog post was gone. GONE. (This is not unusual. I do my best, most articulate writing when I am half asleep and unable to reach my computer. Usually right before I fall asleep or when I wake up at an ungodly hour of the morning and am desperately fighting being awake. Go figure.)

But I was thinking about how much my feelings about being a mom have changed. And how they have changed me. And I was remembering the time when I was pregnant and how I thought I might never feel a real bond with my kid and how sad that would be,

While I was pregnant, the whole thing seemed surreal. Like I would never get to that point where pregnant women get all full of joy or whatever. And I guess I eventually got there. Somewhat. I mean, I HATED being pregnant. I hated every little thing about how I felt. But I do remember every once in awhile, feeling Baby L kick and being totally excited, if only for that moment. But then terrified again.

The terror didn’t really go away for a little while after she was born either. I mean, you hear all these women talk about how they instantly felt this bond with this little meatloaf that they just pushed out of their bodies, and you expect to feel that right away. But the reality is, some women need a minute. Or a couple. I was one of those women. And I think there are more of us than will admit it, because I know I felt a bit of shame in this department.

I instantly loved Baby L. Duh. I mean, I carried her around for so long that she was PART of me. But I didn’t feel this instant bond. And I felt awful about it. I felt like I was a bad mother right away. I felt scared to leave her and instantly protective, which I suppose is that motherly instinct thing that I was hearing so much about. But I didn’t feel…IN LOVE at first. I felt bizarre. Like on those old TV shows where they teach kids about having kids by giving them an EGG to care for, for like a week (pretty sure this happened on “Saved by the Bell“.). And they can’t break it or lose it or whatever. (I never understood how an EGG compares to a BABY. I could DEFINITELY take care of an EGG for a week, people. I have twelve of them, perfectly safe, in the fridge right NOW.) But even though I loved this little egg, I wasn’t sure where the hell I was supposed to go from there.

But I was reading, shortly after leaving the hospital, a book called “Secrets from the Baby Whisperer” and the author made the point that your baby is a person. And it might take a little while to get to know him/her. Just like anyone else. Because, lets face it people, you don’t instantly LOVE people when you meet them. (I mean, maybe you HAVE, but how rare is that?!) Then I didn’t feel so bad about having to really work at this whole bonding thing. I had to get to KNOW Baby L. And she had to get to know me.

And that’s okay.

And now, nearly five months have passed, And Baby L is my whole life. She is beautiful and smart and hilarious. And she sings to her toys. And her little smiles melt my heart. And we’re totally BFFs.

* The title of this post was going to be “Bondage” but I was really worried about the kind madness that might attract. I don’t have much to say about that. This is a mommy blog, you guys.

 

Trying to Maintain

I used to be a little annoyed when my friends started to drop off of the face of the planet because they had babies. In fact, the minute they announced pregnancy, I couldn’t help but feel a little let down. Like, “Another One Bites the Dust” was playing in the background of that conversation, every time I had it with someone. Because, you know, when someone has a baby, they are never quite the same. And, as you get older, one by one, your Happy Hour partners get picked off and start spending time researching carseats and holistic remedies and then there is no one to drink martinis with. And this lady doesn’t like to drink martinis alone.

When I got pregnant, I knew that things would change. And during the pregnancy I became a hermit. Partially because I felt so hideous that the thought of leaving the house made me cringe and partially because I had become “that pregnant friend” who can’t do any of the fun stuff. No Happy Hours. No martinis. No fun at all.

Once I had Baby L, I thought that, at least for the most part, I would go back to being the same person I was before I got pregnant. And I did. Mostly. Only now, I am less concerned with Happy Hour and more concerned with carseats and holistic cold remedies. And there is nothing wrong with that. But I do have an understanding now that I didn’t before. My friends have fallen off the face of the planet because raising kids requires, not only your undivided attention, but also a whole lot of persistence. And patience. And sacrifice. And I’m totally cool with that. At least…I am now.

And I see now, how difficult it can be to maintain friendships when the only time you get to make phone calls is in the middle of the night because that’s when the baby is sleeping. And you aren’t doing laundry. Or sucking snot out of someone’s nose. And I see some of my friends becoming a little resentful. Or distant. And, it isn’t that I don’t care. Its just that I have a lot more important things to think about now. I can’t attend every gathering. Or meet everyone for lunch with a sick, cranky baby. Or drink wine in the middle of the day. And I won’t apologize for that. And I say to those friends, “I ain’t mad atcha” for being a little distant. Because when you had your kids, I probably stayed away. You know, to avoid snot. And crying. And all that shit that mommies deal with. Because, you know, I wasn’t a mommy. And I didn’t want to deal with it.

What does surprise me, however, is that the friends of mine who HAVE kids are the ones who are seemingly the most impatient with me. Like, they are the ones who seem irritated when I can’t attend things because I can’t get a sitter. And that’s confusing. Because, excuse me friends with kids, but remember when sometimes you don’t have someone to watch your kid(s)? Or they are puking? Or your house is covered in slime because everyone has a cold? Remember? Yeah. That’s where I’m at. (Obviously, this isn’t directed at every one of my friends with kids, because some of you rock my face off, regardless of puking or colds or what have you…)

Friendships are hard. And now I understand that I might have been one of the people who made them harder for some of you guys with little ones…because I just really didn’t get it. But I got you now. Loud and clear, universe. LOUD. AND. CLEAR.

Once Upon a Time (The Finale…Wherein I Finally Had a Baby!)

(I’ll have you guys know that I have attempted to write this a total of four times in the last few days and that once it was finally almost finished, I somehow deleted ALL OF THE TEXT…so…there you have it.)

So, when they finally had me start pushing again, it was about 6 in the morning, right before shift change. The night nurse, who had mistakenly mentioned that, once I was dilated enough, they could use a vacuum contraption to assist with getting the baby out, was now leaving and the nurse who admitted me 20 hours before, Shirley, was coming back on. Shirley was an older lady that I rather liked, except for the fact that sometimes when I would tell her things that were happening, she would either seem not to hear me or she would act as though I was making it all up. (Like, when I told her the pitocin made me puke all night, she gave me a weird look, almost rolling her eyes and said something along the lines of, “That’s weird, I’ve never heard of that happening before. Which, by the way, is interesting to me considering that even I had heard that before and I am, by no means, a labor and delivery nurse. Anyway…) When she came into my room to take over the “pushing assistance”, four or five other random people came in behind her. When I was pregnant, one of the things that I was totally against was having more people than necessary in the room during my labor and delivery. The thought of random strangers staring at my vagina (and under crazy bright lights, no less) was super disturbing for me. (I was aware that there would be a COUPLE of people there, as it would be their job to stare at my vagina, but I really didn’t think that there needed to be any extras, you know, like med students or anyone like that.) So, you can imagine how appalled I was when Shirley’s randoms came filing in and readied themselves in the vagina-viewing spot in my room.

I didn’t pay them much attention at first, because at that point, nothing mattered more than the whole thing being over. But then, some of the randoms, along with Shirley, actually started cheering me on. Like my own private random cheerleader ladies. And I was RIGHT THERE. It was about to happen and all I could think about was punching every last one of them in their stupid faces. So, I turned to Shirley and said, very seriously, “I need you all to STOP TALKING TO ME.” Shirley calmly asked the randoms to STOP TALKING but then continued to say things like, “You can do it! Push! PUSH!!!” and then I ripped the needle out of my arm and stabbed her in the temple. Okay. That didn’t happen. But it could have. This was not a joke.

I pushed for about 30 minutes before I asked the doctor for the vacuum contraption. Baby L was having trouble getting past my pelvic bone and, even though I couldn’t feel a lot of the pain because of the numbness in my lower half, I was still having a really hard time using my body as a tool to expel her and the pressure was becoming more than I could take. The doctor explained to me that we could attempt the vacuum, but that I would still have to push like hell and that if it didn’t work, I would have to have a C-Section. And I started to cry. And I said, “Do it.”

Two pushes later, and Baby L was lying on my chest and all of the punchiness had disappeared. Tears were rolling down MB’s face and I was so totally in shock that it was all over, I almost couldn’t even react. But then I looked at her. She was silent and her eyes were wide and she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. If you have ever had a baby, you know that it is impossible to put into words what that first moment is like. Because there is nothing like it in the world. You’ve made a perfect little person and you just met her…and you love her more than you ever thought you could love anything or anyone. And that moment was so emotional but so short and then they took her away to take her vitals and whatnot and I was awestruck. I felt high and cloudy and almost like I was out of my own body. And then the doctor reminded me that my work was not done and that I still had to deliver the placenta. This was nothing. In fact, I don’t think I felt anything at all and when she told me that it was out, I turned to her and said, “You can just throw that away, I’m not gonna eat it.” And then everyone had a good chuckle and seemed to forget what a heinous bitch I had been just a few minutes earlier. I guess they deal with that a lot. As I was told later, the randoms were surgical staff who were called in because no one thought I would be able to deliver vaginally and they were preparing to take me to the OR. I sure dodged that bullet.

 

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Baby L was born on May 19th at 7:22 am. She was 6 pounds 14 ounces and she was 19.25 inches long.

When I look back now, I can barely remember a time when I didn’t have her. I can’t imagine a world where I wasn’t so overcome with love and I can’t remember a time when I slept more than 4 hours at a time. The pregnancy that seemed as though it lasted an eternity, seems like it was just a spot in my memory (I’m sure that it wouldn’t feel that way if I went back and read this blog!) and my life before seems so trivial. And I can safely say, even after all of the resistance I had towards becoming a mom, I am the happiest I have ever been. I feel renewed and purposeful and elated that I have been given a WHOLE PERSON to love and to love me…FOREVER…

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Once Upon a Time…(A Totally Incoherent Birth Story with a Lot of Parenthetical Statements…) Part One…

…I was able to write a blog post because I didn’t have a baby. I know, it seems unrealistic to think that I might have 4.5 seconds to check in with my bloggy peeps. Bear with me, I’m working on it!

So, I am here. But I must warn you, Baby L likes to be held. Like, all the time, and I am currently typing and therefore NOT HOLDING HER (gasp!) so this might get cut short.

I wanted to share my birth story with you before it became old news, but alas, with all the visitors (oh, so MANY VISITORS) and hours of cuddling and shushing my new spawn, I am a little slow getting to it. So, I’ll try my best (taking into consideration the many, many sleepless nights recently and my inability to form a complete thought) to tell you ladies and gents how it went down!

So, as you know, I was pretty anxious to get that little nugget started on “life on the outside” because I was tired of being tired and spontaneously vomiting and waddling around the house like a giant penguin and I was beginning to think that she was, despite all the spicy food and the yoga poses that no pregnant woman should even attempt and the everything else I could think of that might induce labor, never going to come. Of course, because I am nothing if not on a schedule (and when I say on a schedule, I mean that I always stress about being on time and doing things when they should be done, but am often a little late anyway and then I beat myself up about it even though the reason for my tardiness is usually just slack-assiness) and it wouldn’t have been right if my daughter didn’t inherit this trait from me. So, just like clockwork, I rolled over in my bed on my due date, May 18th, and felt a gush. Yes, my water broke first thing in the morning, on my due date. (Remember? Intentions of being on time…)

Because I wasn’t in any pain, I really also wasn’t in any hurry to get to the hospital, because, lets face it, internet, labor is long and painful, and why would I want to rush into THAT when I could take a nice, hot shower and maybe do a load of laundry? Okay, I didn’t do laundry. But I could have. And I did do some dishes while I was waiting for MB to get home from work and take me to the place where they pull that alien out of your pelvis. But anyway, my mom came over within minutes of my phone call to tell her that I believed it was “time” and she immediately started trying to make me eat food. Because if you know my mom, you know that this is what she does. And in such an exciting time, who wouldn’t be hungry? Right?! Shockingly, when you feel like you are peeing an ocean into a giant maxi-pad and anticipating the most excrutiating pain of your life, you don’t really want a hard-boiled egg or strawberry yogurt. Go figure.

We got to the hospital about two hours after my water broke and I still wasn’t having any contractions. And I was okay with this, internet, because I really felt like I was gonna coast through this labor thing like no woman ever had before. I really believed that the lack of pain was a total indication of my impending EASY LABOR and DELIVERY. And then, once I was strapped to the bed and bound by an IV of pitocin (which I adamantly stated that I did NOT WANT, but was told that because my water had broken, I had no choice…) and my cervix was checked, the pain began. I wouldn’t even say that it was that terrible, but definitely not too much fun. Because when you go from just feeling like you’re constantly peeing on yourself to pretty bad menstrua-like cramps every six minutes, it is not only uncomfortable but sort of…well…terribly annoying. Things went on like this for about four hours. I contracted, I squeezed MB’s hand and whimpered until the shit stopped, and then I braced myself for the next one. When the contractions started getting more painful, I mentioned the epidural to my nurse and, since I was only about 2 centimeters dilated at that time, she thought it would be better to wait about an hour before calling the anesthesiologist. And I didn’t argue, because I was still coherent, my hair still looked decent and I wasn’t yet dehydrated or starving. But then the vomiting began. And when I buzzed the nurse to tell her that I was puking up the ice chips that I was using to keep my mouth from feeling like I was eating sandpaper, she immediately called the anesthesiologist. Literally, within five minutes of my first puketastic event, I was getting a needle stuck INTO MY BACK. (This is where the crying began. And not because epidurals hurt, because they don’t, those of you who are scared of them, but needles scare the bejesus out of me. And even though I never saw it, I KNEW WHAT THAT GUY WAS DOING BACK THERE…and I was terrified. But seriously, ladies, if you are scared of the needle, don’t be. You will propose to the anesthesiologist as soon as your feet start to tingle. Promise.)

And now…I have to say…

TO BE CONTINUED…The spawn is waking up and will be demanding nourishment momentarily. But, I’ll be back. I swear…

After not having slept in 24 hours…

…this is really all I can give you for the time being…but I think it’s kind of a big deal!

Baby L was born this morning after many hours of ridiculousness, at 7:22 am. She weighs 6lbs, 14oz and was 19.25 inches long.

And here’s a picture of the loves o my life!

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Holy Shit, you guys!

Well…we’re off! Water broke about an hour and a half ago and we’re headed to the hospital now! Leave it to me to be one of the 5 % of women who labored ON their due date!

Still No Baby. (Insert a bunch of expletives here.)

Well, internet, my due date is two days away and here I sit…STILL pregnant. I haven’t been having any more significant signs that labor is near, besides feeling generally craptastic and large. But I DID see the doctor and have my “membrane stripped” on Monday. And yes, that is exactly as much fun as it sounds like it would be. The doctor said that I am 60% effaced and about 2 centimeters dilated, which was a little uplifting, because, lets face it, progress is progress. Right?

I have been searching the internet intently, trying to find all of the natural methods of inducing labor and have tried just about everything I can to get this baby OUT OF ME (and I am sure I was quite a site over the weekend in my mom’s pool, furiously kicking my legs while swimming and muttering, “GET OUT OF ME.”) . (I did not, however, try the “mustard seed/nipple method” suggested by Southern Fried’s mom. Mainly because I would have to a) go to the store to buy mustard seed and b) locate some sort of tape that isn’t duct tape.) Later today, I plan to eat jalapenos and pineapple while doing jumping jacks. And then I plan to seduce MB. Because there is nothing more irresistable than this giant belly, let me tell you. (He actually doesn’t seem to find me any less attractive with the baby dome, however, I find myself to be a heinous, gigantic beast.) I will not be trying the castor oil method because I am not a fan of being deathly ill. (Crazy, right?)

The doctor did tell me that, after my next appointment, next Tuesday, if I still don’t have a baby instead of a baby bump, we will talk about induction. And I really don’t want to have to get to that point. I just want this to happen. Like…you know…on its own terms…and…well…NOW-ISH.

So, that’s basically all I got. Still pregnant. Still suffering heartburn, backache, insomnia and general crankiness. And yes, friends, I know you want an excuse to blow off work, but I cannot MAKE Baby L join us, she is stubborn “like her mom” as you all keep saying. Grrrr…

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