Happy Thanksgiving

This will be the last post from this blog - I'll be starting a new one to share our adventures together as a family, but the adventure in pregnancy officially ended last week.

Abigail Marie Weygandt was born on Saturday, November 20, 2010 at 4.21 am in Denver, Colorado at Saint Joseph's Hospital.  She weighed 7 pounds, 13.9 ounces and was 20 inches long.  She is the most precious thing ever and I had no idea how much love would ooze from me instantly for this little girl.  Abbey was born exactly one week late, but as it turns out, she's as sentimental as her Mommy because Abbey was born on the seven year anniversary of the day that Scott and I first met.  Turns out, she was just waiting for a special occasion to make her grand entrance.

I went into early labor four days earlier.  Abbey was actually born a week late, and I was so done.  So ready.  Pregnancy was great and all, but it was definitely time.  We monitored my contractions diligently, but nothing ever really seemed to regulate, although every day the sensations would grow more intense.  Finally, Thursday night, the labor grew to be too much to deal with and we went in to see the doctor for the second time that week and check on my progress.  I thought that my water may have broken, but it was so difficult to tell for sure because (and I'm sorry if this is gross, but, we're talking about giving birth here, so you'll have to deal), there was a lot of other "stuff" going on "down there" and telling one fluid from another was tricky.  But still, my contractions weren't regular.  We had been told over and over again about the 5-1-1 rule - the contractions needed to be 5 minutes apart and one minute long for one hour.  I never reached that.  Not even close.  But after an exam with the doctor we learned that my water "may" have broken, but I was dilated 5 cm and it was time to go to the hospital.

And off we went.  This was around noon on a Friday. 

The doctor had called ahead to let the hospital know we were on our way.  They were ready for us and marveled that I was so happy and smiley for a woman dilated to 5 cm.  I guess they're used to having things thrown at them at that point.  So, one after another nurses and doctors came to talk with us.  Everyone thought that things were likely to move really quickly, so my epidural was ordered right away.  By 2pm, I was feeling no pain, happily numb, telling jokes, and having a grand old time.  The resident OB thought we'd probably deliver sometime between 5 and 7.  We were like, "Awesome!  We can get a good night's rest, it will happen quickly!  How exciting!"

How wrong.

My damn contractions still wouldn't regulate.  Another exam showed that my water had definitely broken, so it was time to get a move on.  They called in the pitocin - a drug to make my contractions stronger and more regular - and honestly, a drug I had hoped to avoid.  But it worked.  For a while.  Within a few hours, I was dilated to 9 cm.  It was almost showtime.

But that's when it stopped.  I couldn't get past that last cm.  They gave me more pitocin, and then things started to get scary.  Suddenly, a team of doctors rushed into our room, flipped me to my other side and started talking in serious tones to one another.  The baby's heart rate was dropping rapidly.  The baby could not tolerate anymore pitocin.  I could also only lay on my right side or else her heart rate would drop.  Fortunately, it was the side facing the television, so at least I had that going for me.

So, we scaled back.  And I labored on.  And on.  And after 3 hours, still no progress.  What's worse was I was beginning to feel the pain of my contractions again - despite the epidural.  Since I had to remain on my right side, gravity was working against me and the drugs weren't reaching my left side.  While half of me was happily content, the other half was not feeling so pleasant.  It sort of defeated the purpose of an epidural and I was becoming very uncomfortable.  So, a new doc was called in, and she had an idea.  We did a saline flush into my uterus to give the baby a little extra cushion since my water was broken.  The baby liked that.  I could move to my other side.  Then, we turned up the pitocin again.  I labored on and eventually felt the urge to push. 

20 minutes in and things started to go downhill.  My epidural was becoming ineffective and I was feeling a lot of pain.  A lot.  Like, seriously, my epidural pretty much wore off completely - I could feel everything.  I mean EVERYTHING.  I wasn't making much of any progress, and the baby was beginning to feel the stress.  Then, the first of the bad news came - and this is gross - but there was meconium in the fluid that they used to flush me.  Abbey took her first poop inside me.  And we didn't know when, and the risk, of course, is that she could have breathed it into her lungs.  And that's bad.  Like way bad.  Plus, I was now running a fever, which meant I had an infection, and that the baby could then have an infection.  Either way, the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) was put on alert and were anxiously awaiting us. 

After an hour of pushing with no pain relief, I was sobbing, exhausted and terrified.  They called in the anesthesiologist to administer some pain meds to give me a break to rest.  The lights turned off and we tried to sleep for an hour.  At around 3am, a team of doctors woke us, examined me, and recommended a C-Section.  I agreed without hesitation.  I was immediately prepped and Scott was given scrubs and we looked at eachother with worry and a lot of love and took a very brave step.

The surgery went well for me, although a C-Section is a major, major surgery.  Seriously.  They move your intestines and stuff.  I know it's performed often, but it's a pretty serious procedure.  Thank God Scott mustered up the courage to be with me and hold my hand through it all because it was the only thing that kept me together.  It didn't take long before we heard our daughter's first scream - a very, very loud scream - and we both melted.

Then there was another turn.  I couldn't see anything, but from what I've heard, a team of doctors quickly surrounded Abbey.  Something was wrong.  She wasn't breathing right.  She was quickly intubated and whisked away to the NICU.  Scott left my side to be with her - the tough part for me was over.  They were closing me up.  The anesthesiologist - a great guy named Adam - kept his hand on my head and reassured me that I was going to be fine and that Abbey was in the best of care.  It turns out that during that first scream Abbey had blown a gasket in her lungs - a small vessel popped and they had to insert a "fan" of sorts to help her breathe.  Soon, I was being wheeled into recovery and Scott came to tell me the good news.  The breathing tube had been removed, and they started an IV line to get her glucose up and administer some antibiotics, but the meconium wasn't an issue and she was doing great, all things considered.  Two hours later, they wheeled me past the NICU to see her and hold her and nurse her for the first time.  She would spend the next two days there with Scott and I visiting her every couple of hours.

Abbey's progress was rapid and she was released to room in with us at the hospital a night early.  It was wonderful to finally have our daughter with us - to spend quality time with her and for us all to get to know one another.  A day and a half later, we were headed home together. 

And now a new journey begins. 

I certainly have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.  I am thankful for my husband, who is not only the world's best husband, but also the world's best father.  He is so nurturing, caring, funny, supportive and all around the best partner in parenting that I could ask for.  I am in total awe of him.  Never would I have thought it possible to  love him more than I did before Abbey came into our lives, but I swear, the love I have for Scott tripled that day, and continues to grow every hour.  I am thankful to have a happy, healthy, beautiful baby girl.  She is such a delight.  There is nothing in this world that I would not do for her.  I am thankful to have a supportive family and friends.  And last, but certainly not least, I am thankful that today - for the first time in months - I not only can see my ankles, but was also able to enjoy the sweet taste of champagne in celebration of all of our gratitude.  I am also thankful for pain killers because, seriously, C-Sections suck ass.  20 staples.  Ouch. 

Thanks, everyone, for joining me on my adventures through pregnancy.  I've really enjoyed sharing the ups and downs, and I hope that you've enjoyed hearing about them.  The journey will continue, so stay tuned for my next addition into the blogosphere. 

Signing off for now,

Abbey's Mom.

Adventures with Early Labor

As you all know, I've read almost every pregnancy book out there.  Okay, slight exaggeration, but I do feel rather well read on the subject.  And I never skipped over the whole labor/delivery part.  Because, well, you know, that's important stuff.  So, allow me a minute to vent about how they really gloss over this whole business of early labor and how frickin' long it can take.

Did you know that it can last for days!?  WEEKS, even?!  Maybe it was just me, but I'd always heard the stories of, waking up and feeling crampy and then things slowly got worst, and then the next day, or that night, or sometime within 24-48 hours there's a trip to a hospital and then 12-24 hours after that a brand new babe in your arms.

I'm now logging about 60 hours...

My contractions started on Tuesday - they were pretty random, but painful, and definitely different than those Braxton-Hicks contractions.  Having some other fun "labor is right around the corner" symptoms that I'll spare you the details of, I was pretty sure that things were well on their way.  In fact, into early Wednesday morning (4am) we had the go bag in the car ready to go and were monitoring contractions that were owee-wowzee for a good 45 minutes; 6 minutes apart when all of a sudden they just stopped.  Nothin'.  Nada.  We shrugged our shoulders and back to bed we went at 6am.

Around 11am, things picked up again.  A call to the doctor and they wanted me to come in for a labor evaluation and we spent a good two hours in the doctor's office.  They strapped the fetal monitor on me to check on both the baby's heart rate and my contractions.  We also had to count the number of movements the baby made. So, heart rate = good.  Movements = good.  Physical exam...eh, not much progress.  But the nurse confirmed that my contractions were "real" and yes, this is beginning labor.  She said it more than once.  I swear.

So, then, why am I still at home experiencing the same damn thing?  Contractions get going, they get more intense and longer and closer together, and then they just fizzle out.  It is the most frustrating thing ever.  And it hurts.  And it's exhausting.  I must have one comfy womb, 'cuz this kid does not want to come out.

I did, however, make the decision to go ahead and take my leave from work, making yesterday my last day.  I am so glad I did because there is no way I could focus on anything else at this point and I am wicked tired and cranky and could easily create a hostile work environment, so it was best all around that I just bow out.  Since I spent the better part of the morning this morning in weepy "get her out of me!" tears, it seems a wise decision, for sure.

And so...the plan now is to see how the night goes tonight, then check in with the doctor in the morning.  But things have been pretty darn calm this evening - despite lots of walking during the day and an after dinner stroll through the mall.  At least Scott and I are able to keep our sense of humor through all of this.  I have to say how grateful I am to have such a wonderful, caring, supportive husband who is not above a good fart joke if necessary.  And believe me - it's been necessary.

Still waiting...and waiting...

A Watched Pot...

...never boils.  That's what they say.  Already, parenthood is teaching me great patience.

Now four days overdue, there is no one who is more anxious about the current situation than me.  And while it's really heart warming to know there are so many people who love and care about us and want to know what's going on, it's an awkward feeling to be the center of such attention.  Especially when you have no control over the situation.  And it's truly impossible to keep up with all the inquiries.  So, the time has come for a blanket update.

A watched pot never boils.

But seriously.  We're making a little progress, and things seem to be happening in their own time.  A visit to the doctor today confirmed that I am in the early stages of labor, and have been for the past 24 hours - but this could go on for hours or days or (gasp) a week.  It's hard to say.  And that's hard to hear.  The not knowing - it's maddening.  What I DO know is these early contractions hurt like a mother and I will most certainly be saying, "yes, please" to an epidural.  Hopefully very soon.

So, the plan is to see how things progress on their own between now and Monday.  On Monday, we start talking induction.  Fingers crossed we see some progress before then.

Thanks, everyone, for all your kind wishes and inquiries.  But I PROMISE to let you all know the happy news as soon as we have news to share.

Still counting...

40 Weeks!

Ta-da!  I made it.  Today is our due date.  We're due.

But as my doctor kindly reminded me yesterday as I must have been gazing upon her with a "please get her out" look, due dates are not deadlines, and babies do not keep to schedule.

That's a somewhat difficult concept for my type-A personality to embrace.  Afterall, I stocked up on diapers four months ago.  Grandma W has been here for two weeks with little to do because I went crazy and completed every "how to prepare for baby" checklist I could get my hands on.  Good thing she has some sudoku puzzles.  We are ready for this little one.  So, baby Weygandt, COME ON DOWN!!

Seriously, kid.  Come. Out.

0 days and counting...

39 weeks!

Yes, the countdown continues.

As does the waiting.

As do the attempts to try to speed nature up a little, to include: long walks, yoga, spicy food, pineapple, pretty much all the old wives tales except for castor oil.  I just can't go there.

And still we wait...

6 days and counting...

Fail.

Last night I went for a long walk with the pups and then we went for Mexican food in hopes that maybe - just maybe - we could speed things up a little bit.  About an hour after dinner, we thought that maybe our trickery had worked.  Some contractions had set in and after a few we decided that maybe we should start keeping track of these.  So, for about six hours last night, I was having contractions about every 10 minutes.  But they weren't strong.  And I had a few this morning, but then they fizzled out. 

Labor.  Fail.

At least for today.  We'll try again tomorrow.

10 days and counting...

Sweet November

Welcome, November!

I've been waiting 9 months for you to get here.  Now if someone else would just show up, we could have one hell of a party.

12 days and counting...

38 Weeks!

Yep.  Still here.  And I think I've had enough of this magical time, thanks.  You know, what with the backaches, carpal tunnel, joints that feel arthritic, indigestion, crazy Braxton-Hicks contractions, painful kicks to various internal organs, itchy skin, swollen hands and ankles, fatigue, mood swings, and strange energy spurts that later leave me exhausted.  The newest sensation this week: every once and a while I feel this weird buzz down a leg or in my elbow or down my arm.  It feels a bit like an electrical zap.  But it's just another way for the baby to entertain herself by bumping against the nerves in my pelvis.  She's so inventive, our little girl!
 
I am dancing on a fine line of unbelievable excitement that we'll soon have our newborn girl in our arms, and ultimate terror that we'll soon have to take her home and, you know, keep her alive and stuff.  For like 18 plus years.

So, the waiting continues - that's really all I can say.  It's all we really think about.  Every morning I get up and think, "maybe today's the day!"  For the most part, we're ready.  I mean, there's always going to be something that didn't get done, and I'm learning to embrace that.  In the meantime, I think I'll re-read Beckett's "Waiting for Godot."  Seems appropriate.

14 days and counting...

Woe is me...

Last night was a rough night.  The baby had me up at 3am with some swift jabs to the bladder.  I'm also struggling with a dose of some sort of stomach funkiness.  And then there's the flu shot residue - that "I don't feel great, but it's not a full blown cold, and I know it's just my body building antibodies and trying to fight something that isn't there, but please, will someone bring me chicken soup and tuck me in and let me sleep until it all goes away" feeling.  That about sums it up.  Tummy trouble + mock flu + lack of sleep = little miss cranky-pants.

If I didn't have so much to do - so much I need to finish up before the baby gets here - both for work and at home, I'd just crash out for the day today.  But at least I have the luxury of working in my pj's this morning with a cup of hot herbal tea and a snuggly puppy to keep me warm.

18 days and counting... 

(yes, I'm switching to just days now...because, well, it's seriously any day now.)

37 Weeks! aka FULL TERM

FULL TERM.

Done.

Baked.

Our baby girl is officially now a freeloader in my belly.  Thus begins the guessing game - when is she going to arrive?  This whole not knowing thing does not sit so well with my anal retentive planning genes. 

At my doctor's appointment earlier in the week, the midwife took her best guess at the baby's weight after our ultrasound and doing some measurements.  7 pounds - give or take a pound either way.  Not exactly precise.  But still...I can live with 7 pounds.  She also assured me that it was unlikely that the baby would be overly large nor overly small.  Like Goldilocks, she's going to be "just right."  But she is - at least according to the e-newsletters, blogs and books I read - officially the size of a watermelon.  Yep.  I knew the day would come, and here it is.  Watermelon.  Yikes.

During the ultrasound, I also caught a glimpse of the baby practicing her breathing skills, which was very good and I was happy to see that she has adopted the "practice makes perfect" mantra.  Keep it up, kiddo.

This week also marked the last week of my commute to work.  I'm not on leave yet - I'll continue working from home until I go into labor, or until my due date, whichever comes first.  But I cannot tell you how happy I am to know that my commute here on out involves a few steps and a staircase.  But don't let that staircase fool you - it can be a congested mess some mornings! 

So, now it's really just a waiting game.  Scott and I are trying to enjoy some low-key activities that will be more difficult with a newborn at home.  Like taking in a movie.  And I'm reading up on labor and freaking out at the slightest possible sign that maybe this is it?  Maybe?  Or maybe that's gas.  Yep.  Just gas.  False alarm.

2 weeks, six days and counting...

Dropped

Medical people call it "lightening."  Others say, "the baby has dropped."  I think the latter is more realistic to the sensation because what it feels like is  a bowling ball resting squarely on your bladder, between your pelvic bones.  And it makes you walk funny.  I mean, more funny than you were walking.  A whole new waddle.  Reminiscent of a penguin.  One thing is for sure, there's nothing "light" about it.

So, yeah, I'm pretty sure that within the past 24-36 hours the baby has dropped.  My doctor's visit on Monday showed via ultrasound that she's head down and ready to go.  This is the natural progression.  One bonus, I can kinda sorta breathe again without wheezing or panting. 

That's a win, I guess.

3 weeks and counting...

36 Weeks!

We're getting there!

At the end of this week, the baby will be full term. I think this is a big milestone. Big. Milestone. And I am VERY excited about it.  Scott has taken this - literally - as his last opportunity for a taste of freedom for a very long time and has ditched the fat, pregnant wife for a weekend in Vegas.  But he deserves it.  Really.  He does.  And I'm not the least bit jealous.  (Puhlease - insert eye roll here.)

So, it's just me, the dogs and our little girl this weekend.  I'm celebrating with a breastfeeding class.  Take that, Vegas! 

As for the little girl, she is still packing on the pounds, coming in around six pounds, although truly, the whole accuracy of these weight measurements is debatable.  But looking at my belly, I could easily believe that there's a six pound bambino in there.  They say that she's been gaining about an ounce a day for the past few weeks, and that will continue through this week.  I believe it.  Aside from her lungs, which could use a few more weeks to fully develop, she's pretty much fully baked.

This past week was all about trying to get some business done.  There's a lot of paperwork involved in taking maternity leave.  Short term disability.  Family Medical Leave Act.  Insurance adjustments.  Hospital registrations.  I spent a good part of my week tracking down answers in a web a bureaucracy.  In the end, I was victorious.  I think. 

Next week is also the last week that I'll be making the 2 hour plus round trip commute twice a week to my office.  For this, I am glad.  I mean, my whole work from home arrangement is pretty awesome, I get that.  But after spending eight years stuck in DC traffic - the likes you rarely see around here - spending less time in our cars was definitely on the "pro" list when we moved.  I'm jealous of Scott's 10 minute commute.  I'd much rather that than work from home, because I actually enjoy an office culture most of the time.  But, the bigger I get, the more I loathe that drive to Boulder, no matter which route I take.  Usually because about 15 minutes in, I have to pee already, by 30 minutes in, I'm starving for breakfast number two and by 45 minutes in, my feet have fallen asleep.  Occasionally, I like to mix things up with a good, strong, Braxton-Hicks contraction or two thrown in for good measure.  As soon as I arrive at the office I desperately need to make a bee line to the ladies room, do not pass go, do not chat with co-workers about weekend.  And then I need to devour (insert favorite carb here) with a decaf pumpkin spice latte stat or all will rue the day.  Rue, I say!  So, yes.  It will be nice to not have to do that anymore.  But I also realize that this is step one in cutting out some "adult time" over the next several months, and I will miss the office banter.  Particularly my office-mate.  She brings the funny.

I'm also starting to allow my mind to drift to "things I can do when I'm no longer pregnant."  Topping that list: have a beer.  They say it helps the milk come in.  Also high on that list: sleeping on my stomach.  Even if it's just for 20 minutes, which is all I should probably count on with a newborn in the house.  I would also like one of my first post-pregnancy meals to be the most delicious pumpernickel bagel with chive cream cheese and loads and loads of lox.  I'm looking forward to starting the day with something other than decaf, and oooh!  Sooo looking forward to the end of the day cocktail with my husband.  Very much so.  Happy days, my friends, are here again.

Probably the biggest news of all this week is that we hired our Nanny.  Well, very close.  We made an offer, she's accepted, and now it's just a matter of signing a contract that took us a good chunk of time to pull together.  The things you have to think about!  I mean, seriously, you have to spell a lot out in something like that.  Parenting philosophies.  Don't let strangers in our house.  Don't be a pot-head.  Hands off the liquor cabinet.  Don't even think about texting or talking on the phone while driving our precious cargo.  Lots to think about.  But we are very relieved to have figured out this major piece - childcare is a stressful and expensive proposition. 

So, I'm headed into this next week feeling a little bit more prepared and a little bit more focused on this major task at hand.  You know, bringing life into the world.  Having a baaayybeeee!  Squee!

4 weeks and counting...

35 Weeks!

Sigh. . .

Everything "they" say about the final weeks of pregnancy is true.  I'm kinda over it.  At this point the baby is just over five pounds.  She gets the hiccups a lot these days, which is such a strange feeling.  She also reacts more to sounds - we went to the movies over the weekend and a certain loud gun shoot 'em out scene had her all kinds of worked up.  Or maybe it was the popcorn.  In any case, she was pretty excited by the film and gave it two feet poking out of my belly.

As for me, I have a rather short fuse these days.  Let this be a blanket apology from me to the world.  It's just that I'm so damn uncomfortable.  Allow me to whine about it:

I have carpal tunnel, and am now sleeping with a brace at night, which has been a miracle because at least the brace keeps my arm from throbbing so that I CAN sleep.  Or could, if I didn't have to get up and pee every two hours or wasn't tossing and turning to try to find some sort of comfortable position.  So, I'm tiiirredd.  So tired.  It's like the return of the first trimester tired.  It's so hard to get up off the couch.  So. hard.  But I have to pee again, so...sigh...

My back hurts.  Because I am large and in charge as a friend recently said.  My pregnancy waddle is pretty much a constant, I have no balance, and don't even think about making me bend to pick something up.  Not gonna happen.  I haven't seen my feet in weeks, which is good, because they're probably super swollen considering I can only cram them into two pairs of shoes (not counting flip flops, which aren't so helpful in Colorado in October.)

And yes, I do realize that I am big.  Thanks.  Comments like, "Wow, you're enormous!" or "Can you still fit behind the steering wheel in your car?" (no lie, heard both recently) really aren't great boosters, thanks.  But you should hear the things I say about you when you leave the room.  Tee hee.

But probably the biggest challenge right now is preparing to leave my job for maternity leave.  So much paperwork.  So much bureaucracy.  A ton of running around from one department to another because it seems like no one has really done this before, and it must be really fun to make a pregnant woman run a gauntlet.  Meanwhile, back in the office there are a lot of little (and big) things to accomplish without really knowing exactly how much time I have to get it done.  So, for me, with my specific personality traits, I'm in a bit of overdrive trying to get it all done NOW.  Which is exhausting.  And frustrating.  Because not everyone shares my urgency.  I mean, hello, doesn't the world revolve around my due date?  No?  Harumph.

4 weeks, 4 days and counting...

Happy Anniversary.

Signing the Ketubah

On the ninth day of October, in the year two-thousand and five, in Washington, DC, the groom, Scott Robert Weygandt, and the bride, Irene Eleanor Gustovia Bonham, joined each other before family and friends to enter into a mutual covenant of marriage, and with love and compassion each vowed to the other:  "You are my true love and my teacher, you are my model and my accomplice, and you are my true counterpart.  I will love you, hold you, and honor you.  I will respect you, encourage you, and cherish you, in health and sickness, through sorrow and success, for all the days of my life."

Wedding Ceremony

Today, I celebrate five years of a loving marriage to my husband.  I always tell people that when I first met Scott, I knew - right away - that we'd be in a relationship.  What I didn't know was that he was the love of my life.  But I learned it pretty quick.  After two dates, I fell hard, and that - as they say - was all she wrote.  Our wedding day was truly one of the happiest days of my life.  The above is printed on our Ketubah - which is sort of art meets prenup and is signed by a couple prior to the wedding ceremony.  It's a Jewish tradition that we both find lovely, even though technically, neither of us is a practicing member of the tribe.  (Working in theatre, and having a Jewish grandmother, I have what I call "Jew envy." Such wonderful traditions.  And food.)  It now hangs in our living room and I read it from time to time.  These are our wedding vows and they continue to ring true.  There is no one on this earth who compliments me better than my husband.  He continues to be my true counterpart.

First Dance

In about a month from now, two will become three as we welcome our daughter to our little family.  As we prepare to meet her, I have to say that I am thankful that Scott and I have had the past five years (and some change) together.  Just us two.  That we've made a life together first.  That we really, truly know one another.  The buttons to push.  The buttons not to.  Our marriage is stronger because of it, and I believe it will help us to be better parents.  I am so excited about the next step in our journey together.  Parenthood.  It's wild.  I look forward to watching Scott grow into his new role as father.  I am so anxious for that moment when I see him hold his daughter for the first time, I swear, it has me welling up at this very moment.  Pretty amazing to think about, isn't it?  That something so incredible - a new life, a whole new person - was created because two people fell in love. 

So, needless to say, today's blog is dedicated to my loving husband.  Not many girls get to experience a taste of "happily ever after."  We live a charmed life together, you and I.  I am grateful for every day I get to spend with you.  I am grateful for a blissful five years of marriage.  Happy anniversary - and here's looking to at least fifty more.

Last dance together at our wedding.

34 Weeks!

This blog is brought to you live from our babymoon.  The hubs and I took a little trip to a secret, undisclosed location.  The trip is half delicious retreat, and half forced exile.  It is certainly our last weekend holed up in a hotel just the two of us, and I'm glad that we're able to have this time together - it's been wonderful.  There's a pool.  Can I just say how awesome a pool is right now?  To be lighter?  Oh, it's heaven. 

And I'm excited to come home, too, because - glory be - our remodel project is also coming to a close this weekend.  The big finish is the refinishing of all our hardwood floors  - which is why we had to get out of town.  Because those fumes would be bad news for me.  So, thank you, dear insurance company, for the nice weekend away in a kushy hotel.  We are enjoying our time immensely.

The break is just what I needed, too.  Coming down off of the high from all the excitement around the baby shower last weekend has been a bit of a crash landing for me.  I was pretty much exhausted this past week, so the time away with not much to do has been a great escape.

So, here's the update.  Our little girl is coming in at close to five pounds now and about 18 inches long.  Reaching the 34 week mark is a big milestone in terms of concerns for pre-term labor - most babies born at this time do not have any long-term difficulties.  That being said, she can just stay put for a few more weeks, thankyouverymuch.  Me?  Well, things are starting to feel a little reminiscent of the first trimester lately.  A crowded belly means a little heartburn and nausea.  Definitely a lot of fatigue.  Swelling, carpal tunnel, and my right arm is still falling asleep and getting all dull and tingly pretty much every night no matter what position I sleep in.  My poor husband is being a good sport about all the tossing and turning.  Fortunately, the worst of it usually happens around 4 or 5 in the morning, when we've had a little rest.  And I know it's only a small dose of what's to come.  But still.  Lack of sleep sucks a big one.

I also want to thank everyone for the feedback from last week's blog.  The top five lists have been coming in, and with them, whole hell of a lot of relief, I'm feeling like I'm in a really good place.  The girlscout in me is smiling at my preparedness.  So, thanks!  Of course, there's always something that comes up, but that I can roll with.

5 weeks 6 days and counting...

33 Weeks aka Babyshower craziness!

What a fantastic week.

Seriously!

This past weekend, I was flooded with friends and family - some people who I literally hadn't laid eyes on in years - to celebrate our little girl.  And I was spoiled rotten.  Well, she was spoiled rotten, and vicariously, I was also spoiled.  But truly, it was such a memorable moment - to be in a room full of all these women who I admire, who had entered my life at different times and supported me in different ways.  My little lady village.  Plus!  Cupcakes!  A perfect day indeed.

Now that everyone has left town and Scott and I are taking a good look at the new baby inventory, we have sort of a deer in the headlights kind of look about us.  Something along the lines of, "Oh MAH Gawd.  This is really happening."  followed by, "what exactly is THAT for?"  followed by, "what else do we need to get in...oh...four weeks?" 

I admit it.  We're feeling a little like some of this is over our head these days.  I required a hands-on tutorial from my friend, Meg, on how exactly one puts on a Baby Bjorn (it so closely resembles a power pack from Ghostbusters!)  All this gear - it's just - wow.  It's funny, I am not worried about labor.  Truly.  Not scared - or at least no more than any normal person would be.  But I am truly wigged out that we might need a very specific baby gadget that we are currently lacking.  Is this nesting, perhaps?  I dunno...

Many of my friends who have children this weekend were peppered with questions from me like, "talk to me about nursing bras?" or "what kind of baby monitor do we need?"  And, of course, everyone has an opinion.

So, the marketing person in me would like to open up the survey to all of you - dear readers.  Now is your chance to weigh-in.  Send me your top five list of "must have or you will die" newborn necessities."  I figure I trust all of you as much as that Baby Bargains book, so why not?  But don't dawdle, 'cuz...

...6 weeks, 4 days and counting...

Are we there yet?

I've had a pretty uneventful pregnancy so far - which I'm grateful for.  I was pretty nauseous during the first 12 weeks, but I was never super pukey.  The second trimester was a breeze.  The third trimester has been pretty peachy, too.  That is, until this week.

Granted, I'm not on bedrest.  I don't have any complications.  I'm not at risk - or so it seems - for pre-term labor or preeclampsia or any of the super scary things.  And I'm not overly uncomfortable yet.  I mean, my oldest sister gave birth to quadruplets, so seriously, what do I have to complain about, right?

Here's my complaint.  My limbs keep falling asleep.  You know, when your foot falls asleep and you get that pins and needles feeling?  Yep.  Like that.  Except it happens all the time now.  And it's my feet, my legs, and the worst - my arms and hands.  It feels like all of the blood in my arm has been sucked out by a vampire - it's heavy, and dull, and achy, until I move it, and then it's like a million little ice picks up and down my arm.  It sucks!  And it always happens at night while I'm sleeping, waking me up.  I'm a super heavy sleeper, so for this to wake me up is profound.  I also have a fondness for sleeping, as you know, so this is a big bummer for me.  Big bummer.  I haven't slept past 4am in a week now, and haven't had a night that didn't involve some tossing and turning in...well, weeks. 

I called the nurse yesterday and all of this is normal, and it all has to do with being pregnant.  She explained that my blood volume has increased by 50%, so my circulation system is working overtime.  But I'm also experiencing swelling, which is making it more difficult for that blood to get everywhere, so if I stay in one position for too long my limbs fall asleep.  It also causes a bit of carpal tunnel, which I've noticed this week, too, along with dizziness and the risk of fainting.

Fun, huh?

At my office visit a month or so ago, my nurse midwife said that she thought I had probably 8-10 good weeks left.  She's close - that was about six weeks ago.  Her take is that it's a good thing that pregnant women start to feel more uncomfortable as labor gets closer.  It makes you ready to end this phase and move on to the next.  Especially for women - like me - who kind of enjoy the whole pregnancy thing.  Well, let's just say, I'm starting to turn that corner.

7 weeks, 1 day and counting...

Prepared Childbirth Class

It's probably a good thing that Scott and I didn't go to high school together.  It would have been a disaster with both of us ending up with very bad grades, I'm sure.  That is, if this weekend's experience is any sign. . .

Yesterday, we attended the first of two six-hour long "prepared childbirth" classes.  First, can I say that giving up six hours of the weekend and hauling ass to downtown Denver early on a Sunday morning was tough.  Really tough.  But I had high hopes.  Was excited even.  I packed my two pillows and blanket as instructed and put on my best "can do" attitude.

But - for us - the experience was kind of a bust.  Part of this is purely because Scott and I are the people that we are.  We are data geeks.  Information hounds.  Statistics folk.  I love me a survey and statistics.  And Scott was still coming off his Daddy Bootcamp high.  So, we came in a bit more learned than the others in the room.  As the day progressed, I kept waiting for some "a-ha moment."  Some nugget of info that I didn't really have a grasp on.  It came - at lunch - we discovered that the cafeteria is pretty much open 24 hours.  WIN!  That, and the tour of the birthing and recovery rooms of the hospital was well worth the price of admission.  The accommodations, I must say, are pretty posh.  I was pleased with that.  It made the day worth it.

Of course, that was at the END of the day.  Before that, we watched the standard birthing videos, talked about the stages of labor, talked about the signs of labor, talked about and saw another video about medical interventions.  Blah, blah, blahdity, blah.  I don't mean to sound like I'm blowing this off, or an expert, because I know better, but I also have six books sitting on my night stand right now that cover the same damn thing.  I'm pretty sure that what put both the hubs and I over the edge was the relaxation and massage section.  Just thinking about it makes me smile.  Anyone who knows my husband well is probably giggling, too.  Because seriously.  Scott and I are not that couple.  We are not the kissy-face, schmoopy schmoop couple.  We are not the "gazing into eachother's eyes discussing our deepest hopes and fears" couple.  Nope.  Not us.  We ARE that couple who makes fun of the above mentioned couples and giggles.  Which is pretty much how it all went down. 

The woman leading the session introduces the whole relaxation and massage section.  She goes on and on about how important it is and how we should return to our homes and continue to practice the techniques that she's going to introduce to us.  Then, she dimmed the lights, told us to get our pillows and blankets and snuggle up together on the floor.  Glancing around the room, I could tell that there were some couples that were WAY into this.  Too into it for public, in my humble opinion - not to judge - but just for my own comfort level.

To our left, we have the Bradley Method people - this couple who is very determined to have an all-natural and intervention free birth, and the husband is way, WAY too interested in all things birthing.  It was like he was pregnant.  Every break, he cornered our patient instructor pumping her for information while his poor, pregnant wife sat quietly unengaged - probably longing for a doughnut.  To our right, we have the hipster couple.  They are too cool for us.  And way into one another.  Very touchy, feely, lovey, soft porn on Showtime kind of couple.  Across the room, is the female dominated couple.  The woman whose husband does everything wrong and it seems her obligation in life to inform him of how wrong he is.  "No, like THIS!"  And everything in between.  Two couples expecting twins who look petrified with fear, the older dude and much younger Mom couple,  the "I'm not really quite sure what's going on with those two, but they are clearly stuck in 1985" couple...

And then, there's me and Scott. 

So, as the instructor starts to guide us in our relaxation, we give it our best shot, but it was not going to last long.  Starting with the deep breathing, and gazing into one another's eyes, I'm biting my tongue to not laugh and Scott is poking me saying, "you're supposed to be relaxing."  It was just all so awkward.  Scalp massages.  Face massages.  Butt massages.  No joke.  BUTT massages.  All on a dirty hospital classroom floor with 1/4 inch thick carpet.  By the end, we just gave up and quietly giggled and poked each other as we listened to pregnant blissed out moans from our classmates.

Then we broke for lunch.

The conversation went like this:
Me:  "That was weird."
Scott:  "Way weird."
Me:  "Have you learned anything?"
Scott: "Not really."
Me:  "Me, neither.  Are we coming back next week?"
Scott:  "I don't think so."

We are prepared childbirth class drop outs.  Oh, the shame we must be bringing upon our daughter!  But truly, we are now just about as prepared for childbirth as we can be.  That's not saying that I won't thumb through another book in the bookstore looking for some new take, or pump my doctor with questions at my appointment this morning.  But school's out for us.

7 weeks, 5 days and counting...

32 Weeks!

. . . And the countdown continues.

Last week I mentioned that Scott was attending Daddy Boot Camp.  He gives it two thumbs up.  Turns out, they had real, live babies there!  Three of 'em!  And my husband not only held one, but bottle fed one.  Awww.  I really wish that I could have been a fly on the wall during this class.  But truly, it's such a great idea.  A bunch of dudes sitting around and giving one another real-life information on babies, how to support their wives, and fatherhood.  Scott came home fully engaged and full of information.  It was great - for both of us!

In the meantime, the childcare search continues.  We've received 30 applications and have been weeding through them.  We had a fantastic interview with a potential Nanny today who the hubs and I were both very impressed with.  And I've found a few potential daycare centers that hopefully won't send us fleeing in fright like the last one.  So, slowly but surely, progress is being made.

Speaking of progress...the baby is now weighing in close to four pounds, and it feels like she's maneuvered herself into the right head down position.  I can now identify the locations of certain body parts - like feet.  I'm really good at figuring out where her feet are.  Which is usually kicking me in the diaphragm.  I occasionally see them poking out above my belly button.  Oh, and that belly button.  Yep.  Officially an outtie now.  It popped this week like the thermometer on a Thanksgiving turkey. 

Over the next few weeks we have a lot of baby stuff going on.  To be expected, I suppose.  We have childbirth classes and a baby shower (!!!), and doctor appointments galore!  There's definitely an overall sense of trying to get things in order both at home and at work.  I have a little bit of tunnel vision - glued to the "to-do" list and annoyed by silly distractions.  I'll admit, it's a bit of a defense mechanism.  If I let myself think this whole parenthood, having a child thing too much, the anxiety sets in.  Other times the reality sneaks up and smacks me in the face.  Like today, I was getting my hair cut and I looked on the stylists mirror at the schedule for making your next appointment.  Four weeks = 10/16.  Six weeks = 10/30.  Eight weeks = 11/13.  "Huh.  November 13," says my wee little brain.  "I think I have something that day."  "Oh, right!  I'm having a frickin' baby!"  .

8 weeks and counting. . .

31 Weeks!

So, yeah.  I can't breathe.  They say this happens, but until it happens, you don't really realize how uncomfortable it is.  The baby is now about 3.3 - 3.8 lbs, which is about the weight of a bag of oranges or sock full of nickles.  She very much enjoys kicking me in the diaphragm, and my lungs are way squished.  Plus, my nose has now decided to produce what I fear may be an extremely abnormal amount of snot.  I appear to be newly allergic to all forms of cotton, including my pillow, blankets, pajamas and all things outdoors.  What really sucks is that now that the weather is cooler, I'm excited to get back into my walking routine, but after a few blocks, I sound like a wheezing geriatric.

Pregnancy is fun!

30.6 weeks pregnant.

The baby is going through some major brain and nerve development these days.  Or so I read.  So, I've been very worried about getting all of those important Omega 3's and DHA in.  Her irises can now react to light and all five of her senses are in working order.  She continues to bulk up, and I hear is on the verge of a growth spurt.  That's sort of daunting, because, have you seen my belly lately?  Yeah.  Holy baby belly is right!  I feel like I need to lay off the desserts - they are my weakness right now.  But seriously, it's all I have.  If I can't have a Bloody Mary or a glass of wine then by God please let me eat three slices of cake.  They say that pregnant women usually crave either the sweet or the salty, and I am on team sweet for sure.  With the occasional hamburger hankering.  With fries.

So, this morning I shipped Scott off to Daddy Boot Camp.  Isn't that cute?  Seriously.  But the class is really a great idea.  It's 3 hours, guys-only, taught by new fathers and is supposed to go over all the basics: "Becoming a Dad", "Forming a New Family", and my favorite, "Caring for New Moms".  I was assured by the nice lady who helped me register that diaper changing, burping, swaddling and feeding were all also covered.  Awesome.  Not that I'm worried.  Because truly, Scott's going to be an amazing father.  When we lived out in DC we were often around my brother's kids, and they ADORE him.  And the day he convinced our uber picky, err, I mean independent niece, Kelsey, to snuggle up on the couch and watch hockey with him, which she did - for the whole game - with no complaints - and I think actually enjoyed it - was the day I knew he'd figure this whole Dad thing out pretty quickly.

Now, when is this boot camp for new Mom's, I wonder? 

9 weeks and counting...

Waxing Nostalgia

  Scott and I in NYC. 

I've been having a lot of nostalgic dreams lately.  The other night, I dreamed about a former workplace and of a past boss who became a good friend and who I'm still very fond of and close to.

Last night, I dreamed of a trip to New York City that Scott and I took together early in our relationship.

I've also had some snippets of my childhood infuse my dreams.  The fabric from the bumble bee dress I wore when I was little that I loved so much.  A family picnic in Pinedale with grape soda.  Sledding down the hill by my great aunt's house with my big brother.  But in all these dreams, I'm the adult that I am today - married to Scott, happy, and pregnant.  In fact in most of these dreams I feel the baby kicking.  I think that she actually is kicking me, I've just learned to not wake up and let my subconscious deal with it instead.

If I can put on my psycho-analyst hat, I know that these dreams have to do with the changes occurring in my life.  I'm always a bit broody this time of year anyway.  There's something about the fall that makes me contemplative.  And yeah, big changes are a comin'!

A couple months ago, my Mom had surgery to remove a brain tumor.  I've been hesitant to write about it in this blog thinking that it might cross a line.  But I am happy to report that the surgery went very well, the tumor was benign, and she is trucking down the road of recovery at a good clip.  I was able to spend a little time with her before the surgery, which was really important to me.  It was the first time that she had seen me pregnant, and I was just really starting to show.  Definitely a special moment for both of us - the first time she said hello to her grandchild and felt her kick.  But Mom always has a trick up her sleeve, and one afternoon she pulled me into her bedroom and brought out a bag of goodies which included some cherished family heirlooms - the trench coat I wore as a toddler, the coming home sweater that my grandmother knitted, but the one that put me over the edge was the hippo book.  MY hippo book.  This hand-made, cloth, tattered with love book that I had forgotten about entirely until it appeared before me and I burst into tears.  It was one of my most cherished possessions as a child, and I hadn't seen it in decades.  And here it was, having been stored away all these years, saved for this very moment.  My heart was so full in that very moment.  The one thing Mom definitely understands is how very sentimental her daughter is.

I hope my daughter will be the same way.

I find myself searching for artifacts to pass down to her.  I had no idea that I would take so much pleasure in looking into my past so that I can share it with my future.  Comments like, "when I was your age" aside, there's just something really incredibly about the traditions and history of a family as told through moomintrolls, sophie the giraffe, the John Denver & the Muppets Christmas album, Chief Falling Rock (a family legend), and crepes on Christmas morning.

My family is rich in tradition and nostalgia and I know that there are many memories that Scott looks forward to revisiting with our daughter as well. I am so anxious to combine the two and share all of these family customs and memories with this little family that Scott and I are creating together.  It makes me so happy that sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming again.

9 weeks, 2 days and counting...

30 Weeks!

When countdowns start at 10 (9. . . 8 . . .7 . . .) they always seem more impressive to me, somehow.  New Year's Eve.  The space shuttle.  Having a baby.

There's something about getting down to single digits that just heaps on the anticipation and excitement.

I'm now 30 weeks along in my pregnancy, About 10 weeks to go to my due date, and all is well.  Our baby girl is almost 17 inches long and weighs around 3 pounds (give or take a few ounces), which is about the weight of a head of cabbage. I must admit I felt some relief when I read that most full-term babies are between 20 and 22 inches long because that means we have at most five more inches to go.  And let me tell you, it really doesn't feel like there's a lot of room left in there.  She often feels like a pissed-off house cat with some of the kicks I've been experiencing lately.

I recently had the big conversation with my boss and co-workers about my maternity leave.  It went very well.  I worked up a nice, comprehensive proposal that laid out how much time off I was taking, if and how I'd like to be contacted while on leave and under what circumstances, who I suggest to cover some of my responsibilities while I'm out, and what I'd like as I transition back to work.  I'll be taking a full 12 weeks off in leave, and will then return to work full time following those 12 weeks - BUT - I'll be working exclusively from home.  After that, I'll commute into the office twice a week, and work from home the remainder of the week.  So, in essence, it gives me 6 months at home with our little girl.

But I'm not naive to think that I'll be able to handle work at home with the temptations and demands of a newborn and be able to really do either job well.  So, we've started our search for childcare options, and toured our first daycare on Friday.

It was a little traumatic for me.

The daycare was fine.  Standard, I'm sure.  But you're all aware of my...shall we say..."nit picky" tendencies.  And after leaving, I felt like I wanted a long, hot shower to get all the kid germs off of me.  Plus, it just felt like things were a bit chaotic - lacking order.  Which, I know must be a difficult thing to accomplish when dealing with a lot of little ones.  But as I watched the infant care provider hold and rock a six week old baby in a chair while rocking another one with her foot in a bouncy seat while two (maybe three?) others slept in cribs nearby, I thought, "no way."  Even when they explained that there was another caretaker for that room who happened to be at lunch.  Nuh uh.  Nope.  Not feelin' it.

Then we went to the toddler room.  It was right after they had lunch.  And the words from my husband's mouth pretty much said it all, "wow, check out the carnage in here!" 

I know that kids are messy.  I'm an aunt to 10 nieces and nephews and have countless friends with little ones.  I've seen it - I've experienced it - I've cleaned it up.  But this just felt different somehow.  Unnecessary.  And the adults were just too outnumbered.

As we left, I looked at Scott and said, "I want a Nanny."

So, we are definitely in the throes of our search for childcare.  We haven't completely ruled out a daycare center, but I think we have ruled out that particular one.  Maybe.  We're leaning toward a Nanny, but the timing is difficult to navigate, and we're not sure how easy or complicated it will be to find one willing to work part time.  We're more comfortable with a daycare center after she turns 1, and it just seems like it might be worth it to suck it up and go with a Nanny for the first 6-9 months.  But it's all really confusing, and there are pros and cons to all sides.  And can I just say, "GODDAMN! This stuff is expensive!"  Seriously.  I'm in the wrong business.

9 weeks, five days, and counting...

The Feathered Nest

As if this whole pregnant having a baby for the first time oh my gosh I'm freaking out please pass the croissants thing wasn't enough, the hubs and I are embarking on the largest home remodel project we've ever faced.

We bought our house - which we love and is truly the perfect home for us - in July of last year.  It's in a semi-suburban neighborhood, with good schools and easy drives into the city.  It's a great house.  And we're slowly making it our own.  It's a long process, because, you know, we're not made of money.  We've yet to furnish the formal living room.  It's gonna have to wait until we have an IKEA.  So, the only items residing in that room are two potted plants, two paintings, and a wine cabinet.  I like to think of it as a mini art gallery at the moment.  One day, while I was watering the plants, I noticed some funky looking paint on the wall.  It was bubbling - like got wet somehow.  It was by a window so I thought maybe rain?  Sprinklers?  But we never open that window.  So, hmm.  I called the hubs to investigate.  Together we poked and pulled at it and were both like, "crap."  Then, we looked up and sure enough - water stains on the ceiling.

Crap.  Again.

Above the suspect spot in the living room lies our master bathroom.  Which is probably one of our least favorite rooms.  The previous owners had done a quick DIY job in there, so it was tolerable, but dated, and on our list of projects for the future.  We went to the bathroom to investigate and sure enough, a-ha!  The floorboard was really wet.  Like rotting wet.  And the shower doors aren't exactly level.  And the caulking didn't look so great, definitely leaky.  So, that has to be it, right?  Water is clearly leaking from the shower.

Scott donned his Mr. Fixit attitude and went to work to fix the leak.  Then, while I was out of town for a week, he decided to dive into repairing the wall in our living room.  Such a nice guy to tackle painting and patching while his pregnant wife is out of town and out of the house, right?  But it didn't take long before the little patch job turned into something...bigger.  Paint and plaster was peeling off in sheets.  And it was wet.  And gross.  So, Scott did what any respectable young husband would do.  He called his Dad for advice.  And then he called someone who we could pay to fix it.

So, this really great company, All Dry, came out to the house with this fancy schmancy meter that tells you if there's water in the wall and how much.  He slapped it up on our walls, and the beeper went crazy and he shot a look that pretty much said, "you're screwed." Then he asked us if we have insurance.

YES!  Thank goodness.  Because this whole ordeal is costing a pretty penny.  Lots of pennies.  And they are very, pretty, shiny, pennies indeed.

Basically, once we started investigating the whole issue we discovered that the previous owners forgot one tiny but uber important aspect in their DIY job.  Teflon tape on plumbing.  For at least a year, the shower has been leaking back into the wall.  And everything in that bathroom has to go.  Everything.  Plus, all of the dry wall on one wall in the living room needed to be removed because it was also wet and damaged.  Water also leaked underneath the tile in the bathroom, which they cleverly laid directly over vinyl, which also needed to be removed along with the subfloor.  So, ick.  Oh!  And did I mention that there was asbestos in the dry wall which meant abatement and dudes in hazmat suits and plastic sheeting and giant, noisy "negative air" fans taking up residence in our house for several weeks.  Neighbors actually came to knock on our door to make sure we were okay. 

Yep.  We've become those people in your neighborhood.

So, now that demo is done, the real fun begins - rebuilding everything.  It starts next week.  It's all both super exciting because, hello, we get a brand new bathroom!  We get to pick tile!  And a new vanity!  Paint colors! And should we do a new fancy glass shower, or a nice soaking tub!?  And newly refinished hardwood floors! Fun!  But also, there's the, "Hey, dudes, just have to remind you that I'm 7 months totally preggo over here and your negative air fans are wicked hot and make it hard to sleep.  And all that banging makes it hard to take a nap.  And you're sort of messing with my nesting mojo.  And are you sure it's okay for me to be breathing the air in here right now?  Yeah, and there's sort of this timeline thing.  'Cuz I CANNOT have you IN MY HOUSE with a NEWBORN!  Tick tock, dudes.  I NEED my bathroom back.  I'm HAVING A BABY!"

So, the race to finish the bathroom is on.  It's a new source of anxiety for me.  My nest is being feathered, and I'm like that psycho little bird who flits about and has no control over the situation, and all it can do is dive-bomb innocent passers-by.

10 weeks, one day and counting...

29 Weeks!

This week's blog is a little late.  I'm sorry.  I know, I know, it's not like me.  Allow me to explain.

Last night, I returned from a wonderful weekend away with one of my oldest, dearest friends.  It was likely my last "girls weekend" getaway before I become a mother.  It was the first vacation day I've taken from work in more than six months.  In short, a much needed weekend to just check out for a while.

We were holed up in a resort in Colorado Springs where we enjoyed mountain views, comfy beds, room service, moonlit swims, an all you can eat brunch worthy of heaven, baby shopping, movies, lots of desserts and an afternoon at the spa.  And most importantly, great conversations and the company of one another.

I did not want to come home.

I've been a bit tightly wound lately.  I've always leaned toward the anal retentive - very deadline driven.  I loathe a blown deadline - it makes me feel like a complete failure.  When I say something will be done - whether it's completing a project, marking off a giant to-do list in sharpie, or just running an errand - believe me, I'll do everything I can to make sure it's done on time and well.  With a massive deadline looming.  (Literally, the mother of all deadlines.)  I've been feeling somewhat...overwhelmed.  There are a lot of competing priorities in my life right now, and maintaining balance has been tricky.  Mostly because there are so many things out of my control.  And that always drives me crazy.  I don't always wait very patiently for others.  At work, I'm waiting for materials from my colleagues.  At home, I'm waiting for contractors (our bathroom remodel is a subject for another blog soon to come!).  And of course, I spend multiple moments every day tasting the anticipation of our daughter's arrival, which sends my head spinning into the multiple lists of "things to do before the baby is here."

Then, someone will tell me to relax.  Or chill.  Which, in my mind's eye, brings forth a vision of me throwing something at their head.  Because, to be totally honest, it's the structure and routine and gratification I feel by marking something off my list in sharpie that releases the relaxing compound in my brain.  Telling me to chill or relax does the exact opposite - it sends me over the edge reeling.

Which is why this weekend was so great.  I knew it was coming, so the structure to relax and play was already built into my head.  That was the to-do list for the weekend.  My friend is already well-aware of all of my neurosis, so I could just be myself and not worry about anything else.  So, for three days, I just let go of it all.  And it was good.

This weekend was a great reminder of how important it is for me to just take some time out for me.  To fall off the radar for a while.  And how that will become even more important over the coming years.  We've already penciled the dates for next year's get away.  I'm counting off days.  In black sharpie.

In the meantime, 10 weeks, 5 days and counting...

 

28 Weeks!

Oh, lordy.  My belly is getting heeuuge.  And things are becoming...awkward.  Some tasks that have defeated me this week are no great loss, i.e., unloading the dishwasher.  Others, like painting my own toenails, are everyday joys temporarily lost.  Sometimes I feel like internal organs are going to fall out of my rib cage when I bend over.  My balance is not so great and I have the beginnings of a pretty awesome waddle.  I also cannot see my own feet while standing.  What's worse is knowing that I'm only going to get bigger.  The thought of this almost horrifies me because seriously, I don't know how much more a person can really stretch. 

As if I wasn't feeling enough to begin with, the obvious expansion of my belly has beckoned a firestorm of inappropriate gestures and comments (mostly from strangers) lately.  I thought I'd share a few of my favorite choice selections...

10.  There's no need to include the fact that I'm pregnant when introducing me to someone - or publicly - because people can pretty much see that for themselves, and it's not your news to share.

9.  Do NOT touch my belly.  Especially if we've never met.

8.  Don't comment on my size.  In either direction.  Because, hello, if you were growing something inside of you, wouldn't you feel a little bit self-conscious about your appearance?

7.  I don't want to hear your labor horror stories.  I know you probably mean well and are trying to empathize with me, but please don't, because they scare the living shit out of me.

6.  I'm actually a bit surprised how many people have asked me how long my husband and I were "trying" to get pregnant.  This question is sometimes preceded with "did you plan it?"  Or my favorite, "Did you use fertility drugs?"  Umm...none of your damn business.  To all of the above.

5.  Recently at a party someone asked me how much weight I've gained and whether I was "on track" with my weight gain while I shoveled a second piece of cake into my mouth.  You wouldn't ever ask someone that if they weren't pregnant - why would you assume it's okay now?

4.  This one is great, too, "Are you planning to have more children?"  I don't know.  Can I meet this one first, please?

3.  There's no need to point out that you can see my belly button sticking out.  I'm well aware, thanks.

2.  Unsolicited advice on the delivery of my baby - particularly from strangers - really isn't necessary.  No offense to the check-out lady at the grocery store.  I'm glad the drugs worked for you, but get out of my experience.

1.  Please don't accuse me of being hormonal - even if you know (and I know) you're right.  Because those hormones will turn on you damn quick.  Just sayin'.

All this aside, I have to say that for the most part, people have been incredibly kind to me.  Chivalry is not necessarily dead based on the number of chairs that have been pulled out for me, or doors held, or beverages fetched.  It's much appreciated, and don't think I don't notice.

11 weeks, 5 days and counting...

Fall Fever

I go a little nutty for the fall, and this time of year the anticipation of cooler weather and soft sweaters is almost too much for my little heart to bear.  It starts with the slow trickle of fall fashion appearing in my favorite stores.  It's followed by the return of the yellow school bus to my neighborhood.  I smile as I see it being filled with cute, eager faces, ready to learn (ha! right?!).  But seriously - these little ones with the back-packs and brand new back to school outfits.  How I loved that.  I was totally that nerdy girl who looked forward to the first day of school.  Then, the weather starts to chill the eff out a bit - the air is crisper in the morning, the quality of the light begins to shift slowly to a more golden hue to match the leaves that are slowly changing.  And pumpkins.  Don't even get me started on pumpkins.  And apple cider.  And soft wraps and boot cut jeans.  And boots.  And the new fall television line-up, the new theatre season, the final harvest of the season. Ooooh.  Seriously.  I have a deep love affair for all things autumnal.

I guess it's because all good things always happen to me this time of year.  Serious major life changes.  I think it started with college - uprooting myself from rural Wyoming to Southern California in the fall of '97.  It was like reinventing myself.  Two years later, in early September, I boarded a plane to take me to England for a year with nothing more than a suitcase and a backpack.  I moved across the country from California to Washington, DC again in the fall of '01 to start my adult post-college life in the "big city" under the watchful eye of my big brother.  Two years later, I met my husband in November (the fall).  We married a year later in October (the fall).  We bought our adorable condo in Georgetown in the fall.  Then two years later, our town house in the Maryland 'burbs.  We made the biggest move of our lives across the country from DC to Denver in November (the fall).  Do you sense the trend?

And now, this fall - I'm having a baby.  We'll be celebrating our first Thanksgiving together with a new addition to our family at that all-American table.  Complete with mini pumpkins as decoration.

What a wonderful season it is indeed.

12 weeks, one day and counting....

27 Weeks!

We have ten weeks to go before the baby is full term, at which time she can make her debut at any time.

Shit.

That is all.

12 weeks, 6 days and counting...

Sweet

Got the lab results back from my anemia/glucose screen.  No anemia.  No diabetes.  So, I bought a pint of gelato to celebrate.

Brains

One perk to working on a university campus is the ability to take advantage of some of the great faculty/staff enrichment programs offered.  And they're free!  And you get to take a long lunch!  And learn stuff!  Win!

Today, I attended this great seminar on brain development of children.  It specifically focused on behavioral issues like those dreaded tantrums, and trying to reason with a kid throwing a fit, or why does my child hit me and say I'm a bad mommy, and just why is my six month old howling like a banshee for no reason at all.  The room was packed with early childhood ed teachers, parents, grandparents, and me.  The pregnant one.  But I was proud of myself for getting a head start, because, duh, my kid is still in utero, so we're not really having any arguments at the moment, which makes me feel like I have a real leg up on everyone else.  Because I'm competitive like that. 

But I had no idea that I would find the class so damn enlightening.  It was seriously like an hour and half of Oprah "Ah-ha" moments.  For example, the cognitive reasoning area of a child's brain doesn't begin developing until about age three and doesn't complete development until age six in some children.  So, putting a two year old in a "time out" as punishment does absolutely nothing for you.  Nothin'.  Zip.  The kid just doesn't have the brain power to understand.  That time out is more for the parent than the kid, really.  That's amazing to me.  Just that little nugget was worth it.


Essentially, there are four levels to our brain and its emotional response, and we start developing it from the bottom up and when we lose our cool - even as adults - we travel between all four levels of emotional response, usually from the top down.  From the highest level of cognitive reasoning, to primal brain-stem, "I'm going to physically crash out on the floor and howl because I have no other way to express myself" response.  And while adults can travel between brain levels quickly - within seconds - kids just can't navigate like we can.  Too many neurons firing and not enough roads built yet.  You can't get there from here.  It takes time to develop these areas of the brain, too.  Emotional response is pretty damn primal - at the brain-stem level - until about 9 months of age - when development of the next level begins.

All this probably sounds dreadfully boring, but seriously, I left feeling so enlightened.  And in some ways empowered.  I've often told friends that being pregnant feels a little like pledging a sorority.  You're not an official member of the parenting "club" yet, but they're going to share some secrets with you, and put you through some rituals, and eventually, there's this big rite of passage and you're a full on member.  This little seminar was like getting to hang out with a bunch of the older members and they decided to tell me a few nuggets of truth.  Which made me think - if just for a second - maybe I really can do this.

13 weeks, 3 days and counting...

26 Weeks!

And so we enter the third trimester.

Let the nesting begin.

I have now rearranged the furniture in the nursery at least five times.  With Scott volunteering to make the eight hour drive from Denver to Draper, Utah, to go to IKEA, I imagine I'll likely rearrange the furniture in there at least two or three more times when all is said and done (and that's probably a conservative estimate.)  I also bought diapers last week.  Yep.  Diapers.  Because along with nesting comes a certain amount of hoarding.  Which is why I also bought diaper rash creme, vaseline, baby laundry detergent, and an arsenal of earth/baby friendly cleaning products.

Baby Girl Weygandt, at this point, is pretty much just baking off.  She now has all five senses, which I think is just wild.  Her ears and inner ears are fully developed so she can officially eavesdrop on my conversations while maintaining a sense of balance.  She's still giving David Beckham a run for his money in my belly.  She's about 14 inches from head to toe, and, following the produce growth chart, is about the size of a large eggplant. 

Tomorrow, I have a doctor's appointment and we'll be doing some more blood-work including an anemia test and the glucose tolerance test, which is a screening test for gestational diabetes.  The timing is good, I suppose, because I have completed my mission to visit every ice cream parlor in Boulder, Colorado (where I work).  Instead of my regular lunch or coffee meetings, I've been pulling the pregnancy card every chance I get and scheduling ice cream meetings.  And it's been a good run.  Fingers crossed that the doc doesn't tell me to lay off the sugar tomorrow because, seriously, that's all I've got.  I can't indulge in an adult beverage (oh, what I would do for a margarita), I can't get a real caffeine fix, so delicious desserts - that's all I have left.  Please, oh please, don't take that away from me!  Because while I may have visited all the locations, there are so many flavors still to be savored.

13 weeks, 6 days and counting...

Simmer Down Now!

25.3 weeks pregnant

Someone slipped my baby steroids over the weekend. 

Those sweet little flutter kicks that felt like a goldfish are long gone.  The kid is now performing Jiu Jitsu on a regular basis. These kicks, head-butts and other gyrations are wicked strong.  You can see her move through my clothes.  It's weird.  It's distracting.  But I do kind of love it.  For the first time this weekend, she didn't shy away from Scott.  She gave him a big strong kick and he smiled a proud Daddy smile.

But seriously, kid.  Calm down a few minutes so I can enjoy lunch, okay?

14 weeks...4 days and counting...

25 Weeks!

Depending on which calendar you follow, this is my last week in the second trimester.  Pregnancy math is kind of weird.  I'm 25 weeks fully baked, starting 26 and the third trimester begins at the end of week 26.  Allegedly.  Some say it begins week 28, but I'm always early for everything, so let's just go with that...

At this point, the baby is now about 13.5 inches from the tip of her head to her toes and weighs 1.5-2 pounds.  About the weight of a rutabaga, they say.  If you can remember the last time you held a rutabaga.  She's starting to plump out with a bit more baby fat that she will continue to curse for years to come.  She also has hair.

Me, well, my belly is about the size of a soccer ball now.  I feel HEUUUGE.  My balance sucks and I have random bruises on my arms and legs where I ran into walls, doorknobs, counter tops.  If I overdo too much bending or lifting or walking, then my lower back begins to ache, and it usually results in a pretty awesome waddle the next morning.  Thankfully, some of the swelling I experienced last week has subsided, though I worry it's temporary.  I'm trying to keep an eye on my salt intake and drink plenty of water to help keep the swelling at bay.  It's hard, though, when you're craving chicken fried steak at ten in the morning and absolutely nothing else will satisfy you. 

I also experienced what I think was my first Braxton-Hicks contraction.  It didn't hurt at all, but for about 5 seconds my entire belly got rock hard pretty quickly, and just as quickly, it passed.  What I read is that these are "practice contractions" and totally normal.  Sort of like my uterus has started training for the marathon it's about to run.  

And that's sort of it in a nutshell.  I definitely have this sense of the calm before the storm.

14 weeks and counting...

ROCK!

I just discovered a lullaby version of my favorite ACDC classic, "Back in Black" featuring the dulcet tones of xylophone and dare I say - harp.  The album also includes a lullaby version of Radiohead's "No Surprises", Bob Marley's "One Love" and the Beatles' "Golden Slumbers" (how appropriate!). 

Epic win.  Thanks, iTunes!

15 weeks 1 day and counting...

24 Weeks!

I am experiencing a few recent developments in the joys of pregnancy toward the end of the second trimester.  First: cankles.  I can no longer see my ankle bones, and my toes look a bit like piggies.  Hopefully my belly will help to mask this for me while standing soon so I don't notice it as much - I think I have another week or two before my belly eclipses my feet and I'll no longer be able to see them.  I'm hoping for an "out of sight, out of mind" experience.My hands are also swelling.  I think this is the most upsetting side-effect to pregnancy so far because of my most very dear, precious possessions are my wedding band and engagement ring.  So far, I'm still able to get them on and off, but I'm nervous about what the next few months will bring and will be a bit heartbroken if they need to be relocated to chain around my neck.  Hopefully with cooler weather in the fall, some of this swelling will go down.  Finding a position to sleep comfortably in is increasingly more difficult.  I'm a belly sleeper, and that's out now for obvious reasons.  My second favorite position is on my back with my arms up over my head.  That's out because of the pressure the baby puts on an important artery while lying down.  That, and, my stomach gets pretty gurgley in that position.  So, I'm limited to side sleeping, which is causing some tossing and turning, and am seriously considering investing in one of those big pregnancy noodley-like pillows.

I have just three more weeks left in the ever-popular second trimester which is both thrilling and terrifying.  The second trimester has been very good to me.  I think that these new pregnancy challenges of swelling and bloating and the like are just a sample of foreshadowing for what's to come over the next three months.  I swear, it wasn't long ago that it felt like it was going to be forever and a day before this baby got here, but now...I'm wishing I could slow it all down just a wee bit.  Yesterday, the confirmation for our birthing classes arrived in the mail which caused another one of those, "holy crap I'm really having a baby" moments of realization.  I know, you'd think that would have sunk in by now, huh?

15 weeks, 5 days and counting...

Pillow Talk

It's about 4am as I write this.  I just had the most engrossing conversation.  With our baby.  Who is still in utero.

She started stirring around 3am, rousing me from my slumber.  I tossed and turned for a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position for us both.  Then, I responded to her tap-tap-tapping with my own.  And she tapped back!  I swear.  I tapped on my belly at the same place where she was a knockin', and she would tap back.  Like some kind of crazy baby morse code or something.

Then, the hormones kicked in and I started to well up a little and I decided it was probably time to roll out of bed and watch some infomercials.

I don't think I'll ever forget this moment - our first conversation together.  Why is it that the best conversations always happen in the wee hours?

16 weeks and counting...

If You Say So

So, I'm in Starbucks (aka St. Arbucks) for my afternoon frap and this weird Boulder hippie dude points to the baby bump and says, "It's a boy."  I smile and rub the belly, "actually, it's a girl."  He insists, "no, it's a boy."

Clearly this guy can tap some cosmic line that I'm not privy to.  Nor were the two doctors and ultrasound tech who informed us of our girl.  So, let us all be warned.

I Get A Kick

I know that I've told you all that this little girl seems very active.  A little disco dancer.  But seriously!  The bigger she gets, the stronger the kicks, and what were once little flutters are now distinct sensations.  I swear, she rolled over the other day and I felt like at any moment we were going to have a Sigourney Weaver Alien scene.

She's particularly active after breakfast and around 8.30 at night.  Like clockwork.  Then, periodically throughout the day and night at random intervals.  It's impossible to concentrate on anything when she's moving around.  Most of the time, I love every second of it, but it's distracting for sure.  And it's hard to eat when there's something moving around inside you.  I lose my appetite a bit when that happens.

The kicks are strong enough that you can feel them from the outside now, although she gets shy when Dad tries to feel.  When she really gets going, you can sometimes see it, too.  One day, I spent a good 20 minutes staring at my belly watching for the slightest movement (yes, I need a new hobby).

My favorite is when she gets going while I'm in the bath.  It's like a scene from Jurassic Park.  Little ripples of water extend from my belly.  A tiny little splash sometimes.  No joke.  It's very Sci Fi.

17 weeks, 6 days and counting...

22 Weeks!

Yesterday was a fun day.  I bought a week's worth of outfits for our little girl.  Well, I should say, I bought about seven pieces.  I do realize that it's likely that she could go through all seven in one day.  But it was fun.  And it makes me smile to see them hanging in our little girl's closet.  I know we'll get a ton of stuff by way of gifts and hand-me-downs, but I wanted her first fashion to come from me. 

I'm also experiencing something new this week.  Stares from strangers.  I can see their mind processing the question, "is she pregnant or plump?"  It makes me want a t-shirt that says something like, "not plump, baby bump."  Before I found myself in this state, I always thought that shirts like that were just stating the obvious.  Now I understand why pregnant women are attracted to them.  I've also discovered the first of what I'm sure will be a series of stretch marks.  Not on my belly, no, but on my already fabulously robust Finnish thighs.  Those damn Scandinavian genes!  Truly, though.  I don't mind so much.  It's sort of like a road map that shows how much I've grown.  A reminder of where I've been and where I'm going.  Nothing to get worked up about - maybe even something to be a wee bit proud of.  Not that I'm going to prance around in Daisy Dukes or anything...

18 weeks and counting...

Baby Bump

21 Weeks, 5 days knocked up.  Not the best picture - took it with my Mac on the stairs by the front door, but hopefully this will appease some of you (who shall remain nameless) who are pleading for bump pics.  You know who you are.  ;-)

18 weeks, 2 days and counting...

Birth Plan

I've been trying to get my head around this concept of a birth plan.  The websites I visit and books I read all say that now is the time to start thinking about my birth plan.  Okay.  Think, think, think.

What exactly is it?  Well, in a nutshell, it's the debate over natural vs. drugs.  Hospital vs. home.  Doula vs. Doc. 

Some of these questions I can answer very easily.  Yes Hospital, no to the home birth (although, I do have some underlying anxiety that I'll go into labor during a massive Colorado snow storm and will be unable to get to the hospital).  Other questions - like do I want an epidural - are a bit trickier.  On one hand, pain relief seems like a good thought to me.  On the other hand, the more I read about some of the pain relief options available - like the epidural - the more anxious I become.  And then there are these "birthing methods".  The Bradley Method.  Lamaze.  The Husband Coached Childbirth (that one gives me a ridiculous images of Scott in a referee jersey and a whistle).  It's just kind of overwhelming.  My thought has always been that I'm going to walk into that hospital pregnant and in labor, and a couple days later, we're leaving with a healthy baby.  That's the plan.  But the details inbetween are starting to get fuzzy and I feel like I need to be better about educating myself so I can make some informed decisions in the moment.

So, like any data oriented person, I turn to books.  Off I go to Barnes & Noble thinking that there's got to be some bible of birth that will shed a little light on the subject for me.  I just want a concise list of pros and cons and maybe some statistics thrown in (I like me some statistics).  But I came up empty handed.  If there is such a book out there, someone please tell me, because all I could find were rather editorialized tomes with blissed out pictures of hippies during childbirth and somewhat preachy authors advocating for natural, orgasmic births.  What-ev-er.  I mean seriously, some of this stuff was traumatizing.  I do not see Scott and I naked in a field somewhere gazing at eachother as I push a watermelon out of my lady parts.  Puhlease. 

At a recent appointment, I spoke with my doctor about my data seeking conundrum.  I think she was a bit surprised.  She printed out some information on childbirth from for me, but wasn't anything I hadn't read already.  My health provider is Kaiser, who I've been pretty darn happy with so far, and my doc did explain their philosophy on childbirth which sounded pretty good to me: episiotomies are no longer standard, they'll provide a whirlpool tub and birthing ball to help me find a comfortable position, they'll let me labor naturally, they'll let me walk around.  Okay.  That all sounds good.  Then, she suggested I sign up for the birthing classes.  (Yeah, check that, doc - already did.  I'm a planner.)  And that was really about it.

In the meantime, I've turned to women I know, trust and respect who have been wonderful about sharing their birth stories with me.  Until recently, I hadn't spoken with anyone who passed on the epidural and I was beginning to wonder if they existed - like unicorns.  But since, I've spoken with three of them - all with different points of view.  And what was most comforting is knowing that they struggled with the same decision making process that I am.  I've also spoken with other women who have had an epidural, loved it, and didn't feel "gipped" by their birth experiences (which is what a lot of those hippie books claim).  Still others went in with a bullet-proof birth plan that had to be thrown out the window and ended up with a C-Section delivery and turns out, they weren't all that traumatized about it.  With all that in mind, I'm feeling a bit calmer about the whole situation now and am beginning to think that my initial instinct on this birth plan thing was probably right on.  I want to be present and involved during the whole process and to experience it all in the moment and ultimately, the goal is to walk out of that hospital with a healthy baby.

18 weeks, 5 days and counting...