Friday, January 26, 2007

please don't call

I will call you. Please let me spend the remainder of this pregnancy un annoyed by endless and repetitive phone calls.

annoying person: how are you doing

Me:I am fine

annoying person: have you seen your midwife yet ?

Me: no, I'm okay, she's okay.

annoying person: any signs? contractions, cervical mucous?

Me: NO, I promise I will call you if anything happens.

My "due" date is in 3 days.

The upside is that I've never felt so popular.

I've also contracted a nasty cold, see so big d, in all his niceness and sweetness decided to take Chilly to work with him today. So I could spend the morning (it is early out day today at harry's school) in bed. But the phone kept ringing...CONSTANTLY. And it isn't like I can throw it at the dog or leave it off of the hook. If Harry's school were to call, and it has happened before, I could be in trouble, you know, like if he were puking or broke his arm or threw a book at his teacher. Whatever.

So my blissful morning of sleeping was intereupted at least 5 times. I've got a gorilla stuck in my chest, my neck is stiff, my nose and head is filled to capacity. And I'm loosing my voice. A morning of sleeping would have been a wonderful thing.

This must be the reason I have yet to spurt forth an infant, who would want all those pictures with a seriously sick momma?

Friday, January 19, 2007

At the end...

Pregnancy is a wonderful time. Filled with glorious moments and joyful experiences. That said..

Am I done yet?

please, don't get the wrong impression here, I am greatful for this experience, especially since I really questioned if I'd ever get to again. But here I am, I have, I've done, and I'm done.

I haven't crossed the line to castor oil, not yet, but you could probably tell that I am evicting my baby.

Today for lunch I had doritos and a coke. Yup. And some cookies. I'm trying to make my womb as inhabitable as possible. I've tried to have "good" nutrition this whole time, I've exercised, drank water and tea's. I've taken my vitamins, my calcium gook, and assorted other magical things to help me feel better. Not anymore. I've started the coke cleans. Mostly because there is no way I'm going to look or feel any better until after I have this baby. lets get the show on the road.

I've turned away any kind of clothing with a stupid brand name. Like baby's nest, in due time, motherhood, baby sling...etc. You get the point. I'm not going to wear that stuff anymore. Mostly because it doesn't even fit me anymore. No, right now I'm hauling out my oversized pajama bottoms and ill fitting t-shirts. Like I said before, there is no use even trying to make myself feel lovely.

I've started loudly telling everyone that this baby could come at any time. They say that the baby can hear you. Can mine? obviously as well as his older brothers.

There is no more space in my stomach for this kid. he stretches, he pulls, he smooshes. I'm sure I've got bruising on my pelvic bone. I've started pushing back. Maybe I should start with a few jumping jacks anytime this kid gets the hiccups.

I know, soon there will be a post from me about "what was I thinking" and how "hard it is to have a baby again" . I know that in a short time, my belly will be jiggly with extra skin, and my boobies will be rock hard. And I still won't be getting any sleep. But the sooner that happens, the sooner I can get back into some kind of routine of bleary eyed mothering. I will be able to wear the super fat clothes i've got stored away. I'll be able to tolerate eating healthy again. I'll be able to have normal conversations about poop and sleep, instead of the condition of my cervix. And hopefully I won't miss the kicks and jumps from my innards too much.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

power tools ain't just for men

alright, well, I've always been shy around the big yard things. You know, the lawnmower. But out of desperation to keep my yard looking nice, I learned how to use the thing (and I only broke it once). I've even stolen the cordless drill a time or two for "projects" around the house.

But I think today I stepped over that mark out of girly-ness. I used a snowblower. This is a real man's thing. I had to plug it in, and read a lot of directions. Unplug it, use the choke, figure out what the heck the spinney things did. Then I had to endure fumes and loud noises. But I got my driveway "shoveled" in a lot less time than with the regular shovel. And I did my neighbors house too.

Okay, so I didn't get as much exercise as I would have using the traditional method, but hey, 38 weeks pregnant, and I need a break. Maybe I should have use the regular old shovel, maybe this kid would've got the hint?

Tuesday, January 09, 2007

There's a time and a season...

Like David's son quoted in the old testament, ecclesiates chapter 3, There is a time and a season for every purpose under heaven. Or you could recall that old hippy ballad. Either way, I guess, the message is the same.

But it is true. Life comes in rounds. Just as we are adjusted to life as it is, it changes, and a new season can start. Most times we are not ready for the change, sometime we can plan it, or schedule it out. But we do know it is inevitable.

Sometimes these changes include things that bring us joy, such as a birth of a new baby, or a wedding, or change in a job. But still included in these things are the stress from one day doing something, and the next day, doing it differently. You don't just get married and have everything the same as before. But that is change. That is a new season.

As I contemplate the impeding arrival, the change of season in my life, that of changing from mom to small kids to mom of a newborn, I am humbled by the fact that I could, at any moment be thrust upon this change. Sure there can be warning signs, but for the most part, it is out of my hands. As if any power I had ever had over my body has been relegated to eating, and getting a nap when Chili is quiet.

But there are other changes that bring many down. There are changes in relationships, between husband and wife, or parent and child, that can at once seem as if you are standing on the edge of the storm. You don't want to go there, but you're old way of life is behind you dead. So you step into that stormy season with hopes that life doesn't change too much, or if it does, it would be a good thing. And most times it is. Like readjusting the straps on a bra. It is needed, and welcomed by the end. Like a sweet relief that you found something more comfortable. More workable, dare I say it, more supportive. The change in relationships is probably the hardest for us to receive.

So here's to change, good or bad. We can't control it, but we can make the best with what we are given.

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

My Birth

It's my birthday on Monday. I'll be 37 weeks pregnant and finally legal for my homebirth. If my little babe decides to make an appearance on that day, I am so naming him Elvis. Why? Well, Elvis and I have shared the day since I was born. I think I should take my mom out to dinner.

29 years ago, my poor mom wasn't doing so well. She was big with child. A little background for you. My mom is 5 feet tall (if she jumps) and my dad once told me that seeing my mom pregnant, she looked like a snake that had swallowed a rat. Of course I was the last of the 4 kids. My mom was having blood pressure problems and for some reason, I guess, being pregnant with me was taxing her system to the limit.

The doctor wanted to "start" my mom before Christmas, but being the good mom that she is, she decided to wait a couple of weeks after. Remember, she had 3 other kids and a mom out of commission for Christmas isn't really a good thing. So anyway, on the day January 8, 1978, my mom packed her bags and checked into the hospital.

I know it was a Sunday, because specifically my mom has remembered to tell me about the doctor leaving to go to church. But that comes later. So Sunday morning, my mom checks in. Everything is cool, she gets all hooked up, and they start her on the pitocin. By this time, she had already had 2 natural births, preceded by my big brother who she had a saddle block with and assorted other interventions. She has no desire to do that one again.

I don't think she was really worried about the pit. She is one tough cookie, and determined NOT to have an epidural, or whatever they used 29 years ago. So they start her going. Things are going slow. Right? So this is where the Dr. Leaves to go to church, figuring it would be a few hours. My dad also leaves to get his daily cup o joe. So it is just my mom and her cervix. Apparently the cervix was ready.

Mom suddenly gets the urge to push. Nobody is around. She feels it very strongly and starts pushing the "call" button. The nurse comes in expecting something silly, and my mom tells her it is time. The nurse checks and realizes that it is time. She runs down the hall to catch the doctor before he exits the building.

This is where the details get a little fuzzy for me. Apparently every time a contraction hits my mom, my heart rate took a nose dive. Funny thing about being induced, not every time is the baby in a "good" position to be born. So my mom and her super uterus is pushing my head out and they realize that the cord is wrapped around my neck. That is the only possible explanation for the heart rate drop. So they start to get her going. She needs to push me out as fast as she can.

Sidenote: had this happened not 29 years ago, but today, my mom would have been wheeled into the operating room where she would have been knocked out and they would have performed a cesarean.

So the doctors are upping the pit, my mom is pushing me out fast. In the process my heart stops. I'm stuck in and I imagine the dr's are freaking out. My mom already HAD high blood pressure, so you can imagine what the pit is doing to her. She is not doing well. This is where the doctors are trying to make the choice...Baby or mom. Finally my head makes an appearance, and I am sliding out, purple bodied. Oxygen deprived (don't worry, I've already heard all the jokes). Somehow on my exit from the womb, I grabbed the nearest thing, mom's bladder and took it with me. Somewhat.

So the cord is cut and I am whisked off to the nicu where they resuscitate me. Mom is doing better, but not great. She is in for a few hours of being put back together. But she makes it. She is doomed to be on blood pressure medication for the rest of her life. And it all started with me. Well kind of.

And so my friends, that is why I want to take my mom out to dinner on my birthday. She totally deserves it. Besides raising me and all that, she went through THAT birth just to get me here.