Bad Timing

"Now THIS is bad timing.", I muttered to myself as I walked out of my midwifes office at forty-ONE weeks pregnant.

Epic bad timing.

Earlier that morning my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and nephew had packed up their stuff and headed back to Indiana after staying for a week. To help with the new baby.

Except there WAS no new baby.

I mean, for most of my pregnancy I'd been in this limbo-like state of wondering if I were REALLY going to have another baby. It seemed a bit like a dream in some respects, so maybe it was all... In My Head.

"Psychosomatic. I'm sure of it. I'm never going to have this baby and I'm going to be pregnant FOREVER!", I said through clenched teeth as I wriggled myself into the much too small space between the seat and the steering wheel.

Since the day I stared down at the digital pregnancy test wondering whether it could possibly be telling the truth or not, I'd counted, calculated, and recounted the calendar days till D-Day. I'd known EXACTLY what calendar date the counting should begin, factored the average gestation of each of my previous children, took into account the varying cycle lengths, and used every online due date calendar available.

Not one of my previous children had varied from my calculations for more than a day.

Until now.

Now I was standing there at 41 weeks pregnant, relatives fleeing like june bugs from a duck, and my mom not scheduled to fly in for another week. (Really, I'm not blaming any of them, I'm so thankful for the help each one of them provided for the time they were here!)

All I could picture was the weekend flying by just like every other day of the last 3 weeks: with constant, timeable contractions that did nothing. Then I'd finally go into labor late Sunday night, have the baby in the wee hours, then have my husband go home, get the kids, and drop them off on his way to work.

With me.

AT THE HOSPITAL.

I had to figure out something, and quick.

So early Saturday morning we dropped the kids off with Grandpa J. and headed in to the hospital for a non-stress test, which is standard operating procedure for anyone a week or more past due. But we brought the hospital bag anyway, knowing the recommendation would be to stay and be induced.

My fluids were low. My midwife was on call. The hospital bed stood at the ready, with the big spa tub waiting.

I mean, it's not like I was terribly miserable. Not like with Emmy. I knew this wasn't a 9 lb. baby, though my midwife was worried anyway about having a previous 9 pounder at 40 weeks. I wasn't all 'PLEASE LORD let me DIE before going another day PREGNANT!!!' like that.

I could have gone another week.

But still. It was getting tedious.

Mostly the comments and questions were getting tedious.

How many more days would I have to hear things like:

* "How are you feeling today?" PREGNANT.

* "Aren't you having ANY contractions?" YES. Yes, I am. CONSTANTLY. But they just don't seem to want to intensify and get down to 3 min. apart so I can go to the HOSPITAL.

* "Can't you produce?" WELL, Obviously I CAN. Just not on cue, apparently.

* "Are you a horse?" Um, WHAT?!

Took me a while to figure that one out. Like, two days later when I realized that there had been a full moon on the night of that particular question... But yeah, at the time, I FELT like a whale and being CALLED a horse didn't help my state of mind.

So yeah, back at the hospital.

I stood there looking at my midwife and I made a decision I never thought I'd be faced with making: I chose to be induced.

Forty Weeks

Oh Look, according to my cute little ticker, it is "go time".

Someone should inform this little pumpkin here all cozy and comfy inside my belly. She has apparently missed the memo.

There is NOTHING going on here. Not a single contraction all day. And for someone who has had weeks of prodromal labor/Braxton Hicks/non-productive contractions - this almost seems a cruel joke.

No. No, I will choose instead to believe this is simply the calm before the storm. A reprieve to recharge the ole' batteries. A much needed rest.

Although, according to the multitudes of moms who have been there and done that (albeit many, many years ago) all I really need to do is push a car, shovel snow, or walk 20 miles and voila! labor will inevitably happen. I just have to stop being so dern lazy about it.

I still remember the utter exhaustion of the 30 hr. labor to get Joshua and well, I guess my philosophy is that I would much rather go into labor (which I WILL, when my body is ready to) well rested than right after wearing myself out. Call me crazy.

So...

What do you do when it's your due date and there's no sign of a baby and it's hot and humid outside?

GO SWIMMING!!! And no, I don't mean laps at the pool...

I'm talking floating on your back on a caribbean blue body of water while your whole body relaxes, listening to the water lapping around you and smelling the white pines on the shore.

See ya on the far side...

My Dear Letters

Sorry people, my patience is beginning to wear thin along with the skin of my stretched out belly button. And... I know it comes as a shock to you all, but my humor is getting harder and harder to find as well.

It's here somewhere.

They say it shows up while I'm in labor. That I crack witty remarks about stuff.

Good to know. Not that I'd really feel bad if I were completely sarcastic and rude for ONE DAY OF MY LIFE. (erm, X 4...)

Okay. Glad I got that off my chest.

Anyway, thought I'd share some random rantings with you in the form of My Dear Letters since I haven't done that in a while!


Dear Twert,

Stop barking at Grandma and Grandpa. They've been here for 6 weeks. They are not strangers. They are not threatening your yard or your "domain" in any way. You would think that by now I would be completely immune to your startling yaps, but no. I still nearly jump out of my skin when I'm peacefully reading a book and you yap so hard you fall off the back of the couch next to me.

Seriously. If I had wanted a motion detector I would have bought one instead of adopting a mutt with an overbite and a serious case of Small-Dog syndrome. You are NOT a doberman. And while we're at it - STOP peeing on the planters on the porch!!!

signed: a-nerves-on-edge-already-Ewok-owner


Dear Elayna,

I'm so very happy that you have decided finally to be a big girl and use the toilet. But again, I have to give you the same advice I gave Twert - please stop peeing on the porch!!! I know it's you because I recognize the cute little new big-girl panties I bought last week sitting in the middle of the puddle, so while you may say, "It wasn't me, Momma!" I kinda know better.

signed: a-slightly-chagrined-"Watch-that-first-step!"-hope-it-rains-soon-Lisa



Dear 10-Fingered and 10-Toed Monsters,

I know it's terribly exciting to be the one who gets to find the treasures in the mailbox. Really, I do. In fact, until you all discovered it, it was one of the highlights of my day. I enjoyed stepping out of the house, removing myself from the craziness all around to take a few deep breaths and listen to the birds chirping in the trees.

And then you found out sometimes mail comes *gasp* addressed to YOU KIDS!!! Suddenly there is a race to the mailbox every afternoon and I am constantly wondering if ALL the mail came in in your grubby little hands or... not. But the best part? The best part is randomly finding pieces of mail that I have tried to mail OUT strewn about the yard. Or, worse yet, OPENED. Like when I found the car payment in the irises. Or rather, the envelope for the car payment. Torn up. And completely missing the check and the stub. Not cool. Not cool at all. Unless you want to hitchhike to school, the car payment does, in fact, need to be paid. Please keep this in mind for all future reference.

signed: a-slightly-harried-mom-who-doesn't-enjoy-picking-up-bits-of-mail-from-the-yard-TYVM.



Dear Bathroom Scales:

I realize we have always had a love/hate relationship, but I have to admit, I think you are giving me mixed signals right now and I'm confused. I can't decide if you are being genuinely nice or if you are conspiring to embarrass me. If you are being nice, please clue in the mirror. The mirror says I should have gained 40 lbs in order to look as...ENORMOUS...as that. YOU however, tell me I have gained WAY less than that, so you tell me - WHO'S LYING here?! I'm inclined to think the mirror. She lies a lot. Kind of like cameras. Deceitful little things, the whole lot. If they've sucked you into playing some sort of cruel joke on me I may have to take you all out and let the children use you to play "paleontologist". It may take them years to find where I've buried you. Don't mess with a hormonal woman. Especially when it comes to her weight. I'm just warning you.

signed: an-I-don't-REALLY-talk-to-my-scales-(usually)-Lisa




Dear Old Biddies That Work At Children's Stores,

WHY?! What on earth draws you to take a job or own a store that deals with children when CLEARLY you do not like the little critters touching your things. WHY? Seriously. There is a good reason why my children will never do any bear-building in our local mall. I have taken a vow to never darken your door again. Okay. I MIGHT be a little oversensitive on that one - seeing as how the only incident involving said store happened right after Joshua's surgery and I was still in total Mother Bear mode, and it's quite possible I am still overreacting but who really needs a bear, anyway?

Please.

And to the other Old Biddies in other stores: There is just something so passive-aggressive about telling my children what they need to do or not do when I am STANDING RIGHT THERE! Do you have a problem looking me in the eye while you tell me I need to advise my children against doing XYZ? Really. The only reason I'm allowing it is because I was either distracted by the sales rack or hadn't yet noticed the sign. You don't need to get all huffy about it. Yep, I fully admit that I avoid your store on Tuesdays and Fridays. If I can figure out what other shifts you work I'll avoid those too.

- signed: Mama Bear



Dear Fellow Pregnant Women About To Pop:

Stop with the whole, "I'm SOOOOO Done being pregnant" thing. Stop acting like you're the only ones in the whole world who are THAT uncomfortable in the last 8 weeks of pregnancy. Stop excusing your early inductions and your do-anything-and-everything-humanly-possible-to-bring-on-labor daily routine that starts the minute you hit 35 weeks. Stop accusing those of us who don't post ourselves at the door of the maternity ward and beg someone to give us pitocin at 37 weeks of being crazy, insane, or of having an "easier" time of it. Trust me, we don't. We live our daily lives JUST like you do and with the same amount of pain, discomfort, and inconvenience. But seriously, when did it EVER become an issue of comfort or convenience?!

I don't enjoy the constant pain, but neither does how miserable I am factor in any way what direction my birth plan is going to take. This baby will come when she is ready to come and that doesn't mean I won't have to put up with miserable nights, constant pain, aching, peeing, swelling, etc, etc. etc. Yeah, it won't kill me. Why would you ever choose to not put up with your own discomfort for the sake of your baby's health? Do some reading up on how babies born even before 39 weeks have higher rates of ADD/ADHD/Dislexia and how few problems actually arise for women waiting until 42 weeks to deliver. And then - RELAX. Have patience. Get a massage or something. And please stop accusing me of having it easier than you.

signed: Been-There-And-Done-That-too-many-times-to-buy-that.


Okay, well as you can see I'm now starting to get myself all worked up like an old wet hen, so I'd better end this now before it gets too carried away!

Third Trimester Top Ten

The Non-TMI Version of Top Ten Reasons to Enjoy the Third Trimester

Okay, so if you've ever been to the third trimester, or been married to a woman who has been to the third trimester, you know without a shadow of a doubt there could be a "Top 100" of TMI reasons to love the third trimester.

But this is a public blog, after all, and so I'll spare the innocent few the gory details.

I DO think those gory details would be a great addition to any high school sex ed. class though. It would be a great push for abstinenece, especially if you got a GROUP of seasoned mothers all sitting around telling the high school girls their birth stories of pushing out nine pound babies, showing their stretch marks or c-section scars, describing cracked nipples, and perhaps sharing a vivid memory or two of the joys of hemorrhoids.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yes, top ten.

10. Exhaustion - Dude. I'm tired when I wake up, tired when I eat lunch, tired when I pass out on the chair after bribing the kids with a video to SIT STILL and BE QUIET for 15 minutes and tired when I go to bed. I kept telling God that I'd be SO happy to have another baby if I could just, you know, still feel good and ready to go and be energetic (you know, how you feel when your youngest is 2 1/2 and you remember what it's like to actually sleep through the night for several nights in a row) but He totally didn't listen to me. Apparently He looked down and said, "Ah, she'll be happy anyway." Which is true. But still.

9. Swollen Feet/Hands - Yes, I realize how sexy the sausage-toe look is these days, but then couple that with having NO shoes that fit anymore and resorting to flip flops in many colors and I REALLY have it going on. I hate having to take my ring off, though. So I bought this big ole' engagement ring of the century lookin' thing on sale at JCPenney's and try to wear that when I'm out. Except it catches on EVERYTHING. Maybe not a problem for normal people, but I'm apparently not that normal. See Reason #8:

8. Pocket-less Maternity Clothes - Look, I don't know who is designing these things, but they need to be shot. I've decided they're either designed by men (who have obviously never needed them or given a second thought to their ultimate FUNCTIONALITY) who think all pregnant women want to show off their extra cleavage, I dunno, maybe to distract all men from getting any farther than their chest so they don't notice the lack of a waist? OR, by women who are flat chested and will always be flat chested even when they're not QUITE flat chested when they're pregnant. There are actually some of us who are NOT flat chested and never, ever will be and so, being just fine with that fact but not having the need to flaunt it, I do not need to proclaim it to the world with low cut maternity tops. Please. make something that is long enough to cover the chest AND the belly but isn't a size 2X. Please. I don't need WIDER tops. I don't want a TENT. Sheesh. And what IS IT with the lack of pockets? And to those manufacturers who insist upon making FAKE pockets, that is a particularly sick joke, my friend. Especially to those of us who might, say, wear a fake ring to hide the fact they can't stuff their fat finger into their real ring and then get frustrated with the thing catching on everything so turn it AROUND...and then go to shove something into their FAKE pocket and end up shoving their money down the inside of their waistband while trying to find the REAL pocket and just end up with a long, red, nasty scratch down the side of their poor belly. And spare change skittering across the floor after exiting the bottom of the shorts. In the middle of a store.

7. The Return of Morning Sickness - There's just no way to describe how fun it is to keep waking up to pee in the middle of the night and inevitably stumble back to bed feeling the need to lean over the side of the bed in case you actually do puke,

6. Constant Nasal Congestion - This is one of my very first signs of pregnancy, and it sticks around the whole way through. I'm constantly sniffling. And my husband has learned there is more than one reason for him to turn on a fan at night. Not only does it keep me from overheating (unless it's 90+ degrees outside in which case NOTHING prevents overheating), it also drowns the sound of my BREATHING just a teeny bit. But not all the way. And then there's the occasional snoring to contend with. Not that I snore. Really. Yeah, so now and then when the congestion and exhaustion are running really high and in cahoots with each other, then my husband will make a comment something like this: "Wow, I can tell you're really tired today because your lip is REALLY drooping!!" ... It usually happens when I'm trying NOT to breathe through my nose because I'm really stuffy and so I am breathing through my mouth, while attempting to do it lady-like in some way, shape, or form which means I'm holding my mouth mostly closed and only just open enough to get in enough air to not pass out, and by the end of the day I can actually FEEL the bottom lip starting to... droop. And the second my husband points it out I make it all SO much better by bursting into tears and having a good cry. Followed by more intense congestion and a splitting headache.

5. The Sneeze Factor - Uh, oops. How'd this one get in here? This is definitely a TMI one. If you've ever been pregnant, you know I don't need to elaborate here.

4. The Hip Waddle - OUCH! - It's the catch-22 of symptoms. In some ways you're glad your hips and all the pelvic joints that aren't really "joints" can just loosen up like that so long before labor begins so you can push out that 9 lb. baby without breaking, but really, who wants their pelvic joints to be so loose they feel like they're coming apart for 10 weeks?!

3. Just Call Me "Clumsy Butterfingers" - Here's what you do when you drop something (or your other children do) on the floor. First hike up the maternity pants that will fall down if you don't, spread your knees to make room for the belly, take in a deep breath and hold it 'cause you won't be able to breathe again until in the fully upright position, and reach down to grab it, exhaling sharply 'cause you thought you did, but you really don't, have enough room for the air AND the baby AND all your organs in there while scrunched over in that position. But here's the catch: I think it must be Murphy's Law or something. Or maybe we should call it Murphy's PREGNANT LAW: Once the object is retrieved from the depths of the floor, it will INEVITABLY be dropped again. Possibly 3 or 4 times before you finally manage to get a tight grip on it. Invest in one of those long-handled grabber thingies you see on infomercials. Or just do what I do and wait until you can hardly see the floor and then go around on hands and knees with a basket. Or wait till your husband steps on a lego. That works, too.

2. Hello, Psycho! - There are NO mood swings like Pregnant Mood Swings. Although.... I might recant that when I'm somewhere around the age of 50. We'll see.

And - drumroll please - The NUMBER ONE reason to enjoy the third trimester:

1. The Nose Spread - The Nose Spread? You ask. Yes. The Nose Spread. When I wake up one morning and look in the mirror to find that my nose has doubled in width and is spreading across my face. Oh yes, I assure you, it does happen! And it happens to go very nicely with the sausage toes and the lip droop mentioned earlier. I used to think it was all in my head, that surely my nose couldn't really be doing such things to me, that it was an optical illusion and once again my mirror was to blame (mirrors are to blame for a LOT of things, you see) but then I saw this one picture of Tiffany-Amber Theissen and I KNOW her nose didn't use to be that... big. I just really love it when celebrities are so... REAL... when they're pregnant. 'Cause really, not all of us can be Nicole Kidman.

Camp Meeting

So. I went to camp meeting this year.

I'm still trying to figure out just how my best friend talked me into this, but she did. I think it had something to do with talking me up on the cabins they have sprinkled throughout the campsite and how she'd bring her little a/c unit for the cabin window, and bring her little dorm fridge and how we'd sleep every night on real beds in absolute comfort.

At least that was the plan.

Except that you don't get into camp meeting on a wing and a prayer these days. Now it's all done with a random lottery via computer program or something like that. So we filled out our application: Pick #1: cabin with mattresses (some cabins you actually have to BYO mattresses! By the end of the week we were totally regretting not putting that as our second choice). Pick #2: an RV space with electricity.

Well, we thought, we'll get the cabin, look at all the kids we're bringing! They'll take pity on us and put us up in a cabin. And if not - we'll borrow a camper from someone and STILL spend the week in relative comfort. As long as there's electricity there will be an A/C unit!

Ah, yes, optimism. I'm not usually that optimistic and now I remember why.

We spent the week in a tent.

Our first night went something like this:

1. Lay down on air mattress in the tent with 3 year old. Try to get 3 year old to sleep. Give up around 9 and leave her there with Auntie while I try to settle the other two kids into their cots in Grandma's camper.

2. Lay down on couch in camper and try not to fall asleep while 4 and 6 year olds laugh, giggle, jump around, cry, beg to sleep with me in tent, fight, etc, until 10 when I give up and hand them over to grandparents to deal with. They are far too excited to sleep and I am already too tired to try and read them to sleep. I can barely keep my eyes open!

3. Lay down on air mattress in sweltering hot tent and fall promptly to sleep.

3. Wake up at midnight with my rear end on the ground, thanks to slowly deflating air mattress. Stuff extra pillow under hips.

4. Wake up at 1 am with back on the ground, hips still on the pillow, and head still on the pillow. Attempt to get up. Finally successfull after several VERY awkward tries and several bouts of giggles from watching air mattress flop my poor sleeping 3 year old around at my every movement.

5. Grab pillow, blanket, and phone and head over to the other tent where there is a twin size air mattress calling my name. Leave 3 year old with Auntie.

6. Flop on air mattress and immediately feel a bug crawling over arm. Hop (ha ha ha, as much as a 7 month pregnant woman CAN hop) up, flip on phone to find an earwig in bed. Flash phone around rest of the tent to find WAY more bugs than necessary everywhere. That's what I get for letting the kids play in there during the day, I guess.

7. Flop back on air mattress and go to sleep anyway.

8. Wake up to phone ringing. Find phone. It is Auntie, in the other tent, calling to say that 4 year old in the camper is awake and needing her mommy. Retrieve 4 year old, bring her in tent with me, and go back to sleep.

9. Wake up at 6:30 thanks to bright-eyed and bushy-tailed 4 year old zipped into same tent as me bouncing off the walls.

10. Somewhere at unknown intervals, make 3 trips down the hill to the porta-potty.

And that was just the first night.

Sometime the next day I tried to log into my facebook account through Raini's phone. You know, since it has this handy-dandy little keyboard to use instead of the tedious predictive text stuff I have to do on my phone. I got this error message that said something about "we don't recognize this location, therefore you must go log into your account from your home computer in order to restore your account" or some such nonsense.

So I tried logging into fb with MY phone. Surely it will recognize that I've done it from that specific location a million times, right?! No. Since I'd already tried from an unknown location I couldn't go back and log in from my phone until I'd gone home to my HOME COMPUTER. Um. HELLO?! If I were AT home, I'd be logging in FROM home, now wouldn't I?

And then I lost my phone charger anyway. It is lost somewhere in the clutches of the camp meeting vortex where all the lost sunglasses, ID bracelets, and flip flops go.

Ah well. It's not like I really needed to use my phone much or be on fb much at camp meeting anyway, though I was tempted several times to text Raini in the same tent as me in an attempt to communicate while still being quiet enough to keep the little ones asleep. Mostly we just waved at each other over the babies and went back to reading until it was too dark to see.

Our other camp meeting adventures included having the 3 year old lock herself into the porta-potty, which she is now completely terrified by, a big-girl-panties-gone-wrong incident at a birthday gathering that had me leaving the festivities and heading straight for the bath house for a quick shower for both of us, a visit from a little snapping turtle, and a good, soaking rainstorm that really made those middle of the night trips to the porta-potty extra fun.



We did have a lot of fun, though, too. We had banana ice-cream cones nearly every day (which are just simply frozen bananas shoved through this cool machine that turns them into soft-serve and were amazingly good!), made lots of new friends, enjoyed the classes, rode the tram as much as possible, and caught up with old friends we hadn't seen in years and years.

And in between, we walked. We walked a lot. Enough for me to have lost a pound since my last appointment 3 weeks ago.

I think we plan to go back next year. Even if we have to do the whole tent thing again! I'm still hoping for a cabin, though, even if I have to tie 3 mattresses on top of my car to do it.

Baby Update

Last Thursday I went to see the perinatologist for the fetal echocardiogram.

I was kind of a wreck when I left. I hadn't slept much the night before, was worried about the outcome of the testing, and felt guilty for leaving the kids ALL DAY with Grandma and Grandpa in their camper when they were busily trying to prepare to go to campmeeting early the next morning.

But the drive down did a lot to relax me and I enjoyed being able to drive with the windows down (without hearing "Mommy, I COLD-Y!), listening to music (loudly) that had nothing to do with any sort of Wee-Sing-type theme or Your Story Hour story I've heard hundreds of times (Mom, can we listen to "Little Bad Legs"....again???).

By the time I got down there I was excited to get a peek at the baby again and felt more able to handle bad news if that's the direction it was going to go.

First the u/s tech did a routine growth ultrasound and did all of the same measurements they did at the 20 week ultrasound. She really didn't get very good pics to print, though. But now and then I got a glimpse of a little face, with rounded little cheeks that just need kissing.

The best of the pics

She tried repeatedly to get another look at the gender, but baby was VERY modest and kept her legs closed tightly the whole time. I'm still betting on a girl, but there have been an awful lot of stories lately of girls turning into boys at the last minute. Just heard another one this week at campmeeting. Well, it's probably a good thing my mom is bringing along a few boy things "just in case".

The growth ultrasound showed that baby was 3lbs 3oz. and measuring 31 weeks (a week ahead of where I was at the time). That's not surprising. My babies tend to be above average size at birth and this one will likely NOT be a 6 pounder. Did you know the average baby is 6.5 - 7.5 lbs? So yeah, a baby measuring ahead for me doesn't mean she'll come earlier than we thought, just that she'll be bigger than average.

Anyway, after the initial ultrasound, then the cardiologist came in and we proceeded with the echo. By that time baby was sick and tired of being poked and prodded so she turned and twisted this way and that to get away from it all. So... that meant I got to be the one compensating by turning this way and that on the table. Toward the tech, away from the tech, back to center, again and again. Felt like a fish in the bottom of a boat. Except I got to make an attempt at modesty while flopping back and forth keeping my shirt up around my ribs and my pants down around my hips.

Her heart looked great. We got a GREAT view of her aorta all the way from the top of her heart to her arch to her bladder (where it splits). It looked like a dark candy cane on the screen and it was the most beautiful sight!

After the echo, I met with the perinatologist to discuss the rest of the growth ultrasound and any further concerns there might be. He pretty much walked in and said: "Heart looks normal, kidneys, stomach, brain all look normal, fluid levels are normal, baby looks great! Any questions?"

And that was it. Our baby will be seen by our pediatrician (who knows all the history and stuff) after she's born. Coarctations can occur after birth, or be missed easily until the child begins to grow (while a small portion of the aorta fails to grow) causing problems the farther along the disparity in growth is allowed to go untreated. As long as our kids are watched for this, knowing the predisposition genetically to it, that's the best we can do.

I feel better. Every time I meet with the pediatric cardiologists I feel like I am learning new things, getting better acquainted with this particular CHD and the more knowledge I have, the better equiped I am to deal with it and handle its particular challenges.

I was met at home by a little boy with a board and a softball who just wanted very badly to have a little practice at bat. So before I even made it to the door I was out tossing the ball for him while he tried desperately to swing the board at it. I finally found a lighter piece of trim he could use and that went much better!

Just outside the door (when I finally made it there) I found a huge bouquet of bracken ferns and tree branches. On their nature walk with Grandma, my son had gathered up all of them for me and Grandma had tied it all together with twine. It sat on the doorstep and so I scooped it up and brought it inside. All night it sat on the kitchen table and filled up the house with the most delicious woodsy smell. I LOVED it. It crept into my sleep and colored my dreams with pictures of my childhood and the Sabbath walks we used to take down to the river.

Summer Prego

-Disclaimer-
I realize it's now like 65 and raining, but this was written over a week ago when it was miserably hot but I didn't have internet so I couldn't post it. I have a couple more to post eventually, too!




Welcome to the Third Trimester.

Oh. And say "Hello!" to Summer.

It has been in the 80's and 90's for the past week.

Did I mention I'm PREGNANT?

I... am not.. a hot weather type of person. Even when I'm not knocked up.

I'm allergic to humidity. No, really. I'm sweating just thinking about it. It makes me do things like lose my sense of modesty and flop around aimlessly on the couch while my children make messes around me.

One time I was on this road trip with my soon-to-be in-laws and discovered that upstate New York really does get hot and humid during the month of August. Apparently when I was packing for this trip I was thinking, "New England! Cool, crisp, clear air!". Right? Wrong. Hey. I'd never been there before.

The only places I'd encountered humidity previously was in the mosquito infested backyards of the lower midwest and the jungles of Brazil.

I mean, I grew up in Washington, for Pete's sake. Mountains, coastal air, temperate climate, more mountains. In Washington, the only way we experience extra moisture in the air is in the form of RAIN.

I like rain. Heat, humidity, sunshine... these things just don't appeal to my melancholy side, I guess. And living in Washington, you just have to have a melancholy side that likes to stand out in the rain and let it pour down over you while you ponder lost dreams and such.

Or something like that. Grass is always greener, right?

Anyway, back to that road trip, next thing I knew I was perched in the back window of an old Suburban clawing into my suitcase for shorts and a t-shirt and if someone hadn't yelled, "Pull Over!" (who was that, anyway?) I am pretty certain I would have attempted a change of clothing on the go kinda like what I used to do back in the day while driving my car.... but we won't get into that.

So, yeah. Not a fan of humidity. I've been trying to get God to put an end to that particular curse to mankind, but I don't think I'm getting through here.

Seriously, if I could just park myself in front of the little window unit air conditioner wearing nothing but my skivies in the chaise lounger with a mocha frappe, a pint of Ben & Jerry's and a laptop I'd be happy.

And that dream is about as far from feasable reality as winning the lottery when I never play it.

So instead I often find myself plopped in bed at the end of the day, propped up on pillows with my big ole' belly sticking up in front of me, eating ice cream, with a cold washcloth tossed across each swollen foot with little sausage toes poking up at me and a tiny little fan miserably attempting to make a difference in our hot bedroom.

Because for some reason, our bedroom is the hottest room in the house. It doesn't matter WHAT I do trying to keep the room from getting all hot and nasty during the day, it refuses to cooperate.

I'd insist on having the little air conditioner in there to make sleeping a little more bearable, but it's really not a good idea.

You see, we live in a REALLY old farmhouse. Our bedroom used to be the front porch. Then someone threw up some walls and called it a room. Oh. And when they added electricity at some point, they remembered the old front porch and added ONE outlet.

We already have it totally overloaded.

It runs our TV, VCR, my tiny little miserable fan, and goes around the corner with a power strip to run the computer, printer, and monitor in the office.

Yep, pretty sure trying to add the AC would be a quick way to blow a fuse.

Or start a fire.

I COULD try and rearrange a few rooms to make it work out, but that would mean an expenditure of energy that will just simply HAVE to wait until it cools off first. But then I'll be cooled off and probably won't remember why it was so important to rearrange half the household. And thus begins a very vicious cycle.

Ah, well. I keep telling myself that I need to take it all "One day at a time". But then I remember that I will still be pregnant tomorrow.

And joy of all joys, as long as I'm still pregnant, (and growing bigger by the day, I might add) it will still be summer.

Yay Me. I only have 12 weeks or so more of this to endure. Time to go attempt to get some sleep in between bathroom trips, baby kicking, insomnia, fighting with the pillows to get comfy, and an unbearably HOT bedroom.

To "E" or Not to "E"

When we had our first daughter more than 4 years ago, we went to the hospital without a name picked out. It was a completely different scenario than with our first child.

Joshua was a surprise. We didn't know if it was a boy or a girl until a minute or two after he made his entrance when I finally remembered to look - after a bit of prompting by the audience at hand!

And yet, even with the big question mark hanging over our head, we only had the foresight to pick out a single boy's name.

We had no girl's name picked out. Not even a list of possibilities, really.

Emmy's birth was completely different. We knew it was going to be a little girl coming home from the hospital with us, and yet we still couldn't narrow the name list down below three names.

It kind of depended on how she looked when she was born!

To tell the truth, she didn't look completely like ANY of the names on the list to me, but Emma Leigh sort of fit her the best of the options, and Colby was convinced that's what she was, so at the insistence of the nurse at hand, we quickly named her and scrambled to make sure she was spelling it right!

Little did I know that I'd be having a second daughter so quickly after the first! Or a third one after that!

With Elayna we happened across another "E" name we liked and thought sounded good with the first "E" name we had, and so we had her name picked out well before she was born. It made sense, too, since our boy's name that we liked was a second "J" name, so when or if we ever had another boy, we'd have "J" names for the boys and "E" names for the girls.

We never really considered the option of having a third girl.

Another "E"?

Are there any more nice "E" names to be had? I certainly never would have picked that letter out of the alphabet to make all my girls' names from!

Do we really want to continue the popular trend like the Duggars and the Kardashians? Or should we ditch that and name her whatever name we like best at the moment?

My husband is quite the traditionalist, having had a very uncommon name himself, and being a history buff, loves the old fashioned names. I just like to keep my options open and not feel obligated to name my child one thing because everyone has heard about the favorite option if I happen to change my mind the moment I see her!

I think I just kind of psych myself out now and then by picking a name I really like and then saying it over and over again to myself until it sounds... odd. And then I have to move on to the next name on the list until I wear that one out, too. It's different when you don't have any sort of tangible person or thing you are talking to or referring to in conversation!

Try it! Just pick a word - any word - and start saying it over and over to yourself. Perhaps you should try doing this at home, and not in public, but whatever floats your boat. Grab a random object close at hand, say, a shoe, and throughout the day, say the word silently or out loud and think about the spelling, how it sounds as you speak, etc. At the end of the day, I can almost guarantee you'll think it's a weird word.

So, to sum it up here, Colby has nicely settled on having another girl with an "E" name and I am busily trying not to wear out my favorites long before the big day comes. We still have a few weeks before we have to make up our minds, after all!

Because...

Because Sunday I spent a few hours on my hands and knees doing garden prep after bending over a zillion times to pick up fallen branches from our insanely large yard.

Because Monday I went to K-Mart and started having back spasms that made me grip the cart for dear life, and once, when I tried to pick up Laney and put her back IN the cart to slightly better contain my 3 munchkins my back spasm sent me to my knees in the middle of the chip aisle where the four of us knelt in a circle and probably scared everyone into thinking we were part of some strange religious sect.

Because K-Mart refused to send someone to the layaway counter so I could get the sale price on the benches I want before they're all gone 3 days before payday so I finally gave up and left 'cause the sign said I could "do it all online!" but they lied - they don't HAVE those benches available online!



Because I stood in the kitchen today at lunch time in tears as I realized that my hubby had taken the chips in his lunch box and I couldn't have the yummy haystack I was planning to have for lunch and couldn't think of a single thing that I wanted to eat instead.

Because I realized 4 hours later that I should have tried a little harder to find something to eat for lunch when every little thing sent me into tears.

Because today I needed a little laughter and a little pick-me-up!!

Surprise! It's A .......

...Healthy Baby!! (so far...)

Tuesday was a VERY long day for me. I cleaned, scrubbed, washed, dusted, rearranged furniture, etc. etc. etc. just to keep myself busy and not think about how long it was until Wednesday.

I even rented a movie and we stayed up until 11:00 watching it! This is so not typical for me. Even when I'm not pregnant I'm not a night owl. At. ALL.

And then after we crawled in bed I still couldn't sleep so I talked Colby's ear off until all I could hear coming from over on his side of the bed was snoring.

Eventually I fell asleep.

And was wide awake way too early.

Wednesday's early morning blur of activity came and went and soon I found myself wandering back and forth through the kitchen looking for things to do until it was time to go. The babysitter came, I jumped in the car and headed for town, and then the real waiting game began.

First it was the wait at the doctor's office.

"Be here at least 10 minutes early!" they said on the phone the day before.

I was there 15 minutes before my appointment. I signed my ONE piece of paper, and sat down to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

20 min. AFTER my appt. time, I was called back to the dimly lit room with the really narrow bed and she got started with my ultrasound.

"Do you want to know what you're having?", she asked just before she put the wand on my belly.

"Yes." I said firmly. Well, so much for all my talk of wanting to be surprised.

She began with a shot of the spine, did her multitude of measurements on it, then moved on to the bladder, kidneys, and stomach, pausing to measure each sufficiently.

Then I saw some leg bones and she measured them all.

Moving on to the heart, she started in on all of those measurements and views and videos for the doctor to review.

Good grief, I started thinking, doesn't my baby have a HEAD?! I still hadn't seen a little face or upper extremities at all!

Finally, there it was, a cute little face looking up at us and a hand waving around frantically!



"Hi, Baby!" I wanted to say to the screen, but figured I'd probably better save that for now.

She measured the head, brain, arm bones, upper lip, looked at the heart again, and then looked up at me.

"You did say you wanted to know the sex?" the lady asked me (about 40 minutes into the proceedure).

"YES!" I practically shrieked at her.

So she moved the wand around some more and found a good angle.

"Well...it looks like ..."

Uh-huh, my brain cut her off before she finished.. just what I thought...

When she was down there making all those leg measurements I just didn't see any... extra appendages down there...

"...A Girl!"

She finished up about 20 minutes later and went out to find the doctor to come in for the consult.

I was still numb. Of course, I'd already had that strong suspicion from the leg measuring time, but to have her say it OUT LOUD really sent it home.

THREE girls?!

THREE GIRLS?!?!?!

What on earth am I going to do with three girls?

Three girls to shop for! (woohoo!)

Three drama queens! (uh-oh)

Three hormone-laden teenage girls. (oh. dear.)

Three boyfriends? (heaven help us.)

Three weddings?! ($$$$$ !!!!!)

So much to absorb. I have to admit, I really was picturing a little towheaded boy adding to the family. I'm not disappointed, but need to adjust the thinking a little bit.

I waited another half hour for the perinatologist to come in and talk to me about the results.

He said everything looked good as far as they could see, but he was still concerned of the risk of coarctation (like Joshua's) that couldn't be seen on ultrasound. So we are going ahead with the fetal echocardiogram just to be sure there is nothing more to be concerned about.

That will take place in about 10-12 weeks in Grand Rapids. There is a very good chance nothing at all is wrong with her heart or aorta, but then again, Joshua ONLY had the coarctation and had nothing wrong with his valves or chamber walls, and those defects are often seen together, so that was a factor in the decision to go forward with the fetal echo.

Thanks again for your prayers, we are very encouraged by this good news at this point and will continue to keep you posted!



Love these "alien" shots!!

On the Hazards of Being Sick While Pregnant

First trimester = sicky all the time.

I gag at the smell of coffee, can't stand the thought of eating chocolate, and can only handle a small sip of water at a time. Everything I do manage to eat has a terrible, bitter aftertaste. Even when I don't eat there's a bitter taste in my mouth that only seems to get drowned by Big Red or by hot sauce.

So. Hot sauce on everything.

That's right, hash browns, burritos, on my sandwiches. Whatever it takes to BURN the awful taste out of my mouth.

And then, right around the 8 week mark I came down with a lovely stomach bug that my kids gave me so generously. And then I was preggie-sicky AND sicky-sicky.

Some of the highlights of that weekend:

1. Just before the rest of the family got sick, I was giving the youngest her "after-sicky" bath, ran out to the kitchen for a minute and came back to find that the little monster had gotten out of the tub, grabbed EVERY single towel off the shelf: washcloths, hand towels, bath towels, and threw them in the tub, where she happily jumped back in to "swim with her friends". Of course, when the other kids started throwing up that night and the towels were still in the wash, this made clean up all that more... fun.

2. Somewhere between when the older two got the bug and when I got the bug, Emmy managed to get a hold of a nice bright shade of pink fingernail polish and decorate the bathroom with it. Luckily, fingernail polish remover DOES remove polish from porcelain. It also removes paint from walls. Just so you know.

3. Emmy also decided, on the morning my stomach was at its worst, to take my husband's cologne and spray it on the cat. Yes, it may be my favorite "Date Night" cologne, the cologne he wore the day we got married, but I am quite certain I will never feel the same again about this cologne.

So yes, that was a lovely time in my life right there. The morning sickness returned as soon as the puking let up.

There has been something about this pregnancy that makes me wonder at times if it's ever going to end - the sicky part, I mean. Of course I know how the pregnancy will end - with pain, agony, and hours upon hours of back labor! Even though I'm now in the second trimester, it hasn't quite let up yet.

Maybe it's just the cold weather. It seems to make the nausea that much worse. I can never seem to get warm, no matter how much I bundle up or how often I hug the stove. It's like the shivering starts shaking up the juices in my tummy and next thing I know, I'm gagging over the kitchen sink.

And apparently I'm a loud gagger. The kids think it's hilarious.

"Are you puking again, mom?", they ask between giggles.

It's like someone is reaching inside and wrenching out my insides. Why is this funny?

And the kids - they're like sharks. They smell blood. They know I'm not on top of my game, and boy do they love to take advantage of it.

Take for instance, this past weekend - when I came down with a sinus infection. (what IS it with me and being SICK?!)

After two days in bed, trying to recover some energy before the week started, I finally ran out to the store to get a few needed groceries. I thought about sending Colby with a list, but I really didn't want to be left alone with the kids. I knew they'd think up some devious way to take advantage of the situation.

Little did I know.

I came back to find my husband outside happily wielding his snowblower on the driveway.

Hmm.. I thought. Wonder what the kids are up to.

I walked inside to find puzzles and games spread out all over the living room floor and kids helping themselves to a snack of apples.

I barked at them to clean up their mess while I brought in the groceries. Colby was still smiling from the back of the snowblower.

After putting away the groceries and overseeing the cleanup in the living room, the kids went upstairs to play and I started getting dinner ready - an hour later than usual. By then I was tired and ready to go back to my nice warm, snuggy bed and forget about dinner altogether.

I looked out the window. By then Colby was chopping our week's supply of wood and stacking it in the back room for me.

Normally I'm really appreciative of all these things he does for me, but that day I was just savagely chopping the vegetables and grumbling under my breath about him not helping me where I needed it the most that day.

And then... from somewhere above me I heard the unmistakable sound of Emmy.

Crying.

Hysterically.

Now, don't get me wrong when I say this, but... she has a tendency to...overreact. A lot. I don't always jump and run whenever I hear her cry. It's almost always a false alarm.

But this time there was a little bit of something that sort of sounded like - PANIC!!

Oh dear, I thought, as I ran up the stairs. What on earth could it be this time?

And there, perched precariously at the top of the stairs, was a duffle bag and next to it were standing TWO of my children. Muffled screams were coming from the bag. Quickly glancing over the situation, I saw exactly what the problem was: where the zipper should have been, there was a big clump of HAIR.

I grabbed up the bag and carried it down the stairs, reassuring Emmy that she really was okay and I was going to fix it in a jiffy. I set her down in the living room and ran for my sewing scissors, then snipped off the big clump that was keeping the zipper stuck.

Zoop! Out she came, hot, sweaty, and very badly needing a big hug. She was scared. They were all scared, and after a stern bit of consequences for the one that zipped her in there, we all had a long talk about the seriousness of putting yourself or someone else in a situation where they could get trapped. I think I got a few more gray hairs just talking with them about it.

In my tired state of being, I set them up with a video before finally realizing I had food still on the stove. Burnt by now, of course.

Colby came in right about the time I was starting to cry, and went in to check on the kids. I hadn't even told him yet what had happened with Emmy when he walked back in to the kitchen with my sewing scissors and a clump of hair.

"Honey," he said, "leaving scissors out is not a very good idea."

My first thought was that he'd found the clump of Emmy's hair I'd cut earlier. I was just about the snap at him something about not needing to talk to me like I was a simpleton just because I am pregnant and sometimes cant find my brain.

And then I remembered I'd left the scissors RIGHT THERE on the couch! Oh.

"Elayna was cutting her hair..."