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tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61867015297210906872017-09-19T03:55:19.957-07:00Stuck in the Waiting RoomThe story of an anonymous inferileLileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-4220964000372474862017-08-05T11:06:00.000-07:002017-08-05T11:06:13.091-07:00Life With Two
The thought of adding a second baby to our family terrified me.

I spent most of my pregnancy wondering if we'd made a giant mistake. It was too soon. They'd be too close together. I was too old. My back hurt too much. I didn't want to go through the pain and hassle of breastfeeding for another year. We'd ruin Jack.

Even the first week or so we were home from the hospital, I had these same thoughts. Jack had a bit of a rough time adjusting right away. We were tired and not on top of our parenting game, so we didn't always deal with his tantrums the best. I was hormonal, sore from surgery, exhausted, convinced I wasn't going to bond with Milo (we had a rough hospital stay), and again I worried that this whole second baby thing was a mistake. Or at least poorly timed.

But then there are days like this. Moments like these. Jack knows that Milo doesn't always like tummy time, so Jack lies on his tummy next to Milo and gives him an encouraging pep talk.

And in these moments I think we're going to be okay.
Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-70188883558640161892017-07-13T01:34:00.001-07:002017-07-13T01:34:40.323-07:00I Had Another Baby
He's here. It's another boy and his name is Milo. He's sweet and cute and looks exactly like Jack did as a newborn.

Someday I'll write his birth story, but honestly a scheduled csection is not that interesting of a story.

He eats like a champ (read: all the time), but the plus side is he sleeps in pretty solid chunks at night. I actually have to get up to pump more than feed. Which isn't my favorite, but it's helping me build a freezer stash and keep up my supply for when his sleep inevitably changes.

Two kids is...different. It's rough a lot of the time. Bobby took 4 weeks off work which is HUGE in helping me with Jack and helping me recover from surgery (especially because I can't lift Jack). But it's exhausting and challenging and the 2 year old totally acts like a 2 year old most of the time. We're dealing with tons of whining and diffusing tantrums all day long. Plus marathon nursing and trying to let my incision and muscles heal.

So we're surviving. It's hard, but it's also very, very good.
Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-24766819918666807392017-06-12T06:00:00.001-07:002017-06-12T06:02:44.419-07:00Thirty-nine
I'm 39 weeks pregnant. Up nearly 30 pounds. Its 90+ degrees here with over 70% humidity.

C-section is scheduled for Friday morning at 5:30 am.

Pass the castor oil?
Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-72867609079108125682016-12-15T10:59:00.002-08:002016-12-15T10:59:26.154-08:00A Jumble of UpdatesI'm going to get this post written. Even if it kills me. Which it might.

You guys, things are rough. I feel like my life is getting away from me. Like I'm drowning. Like I will never be able to catch up on everything--work, laundry, dishes, putting together a nursery for a second time.

A huge part of this is my own fault. I'm exhausted. Every single day for the last 2.5 months I have taken a nap during Jack's nap. It's ridiculous, because that's really my only free time during the day to get things like laundry and dishes done. But I also feel like if I don't lay down and nap, I'm not going to make it through the afternoon until Bobby gets home. And thus, I feel like everything is piling up, and it's such a struggle to get things done.

This pregnancy has been hard. Really, really hard. In a side-by-side comparison to my pregnancy with Jack, maybe it hasn't been that much worse. But it sure feels like it--for many reasons.

1) I'm older. I know, I'm not even "Advanced Maternal Age" (I'm 28, I'll be 29 when I deliver), but my body feels like it's aged 20 years since my (first) pre-pregnancy body. When this pregnancy is over and I'm recovered, I need to get serious about working out again. I have literally the exact same pre-pregnancy weight as I did with Jack, but I don't understand how. I'm flabby. My eating is out of control. I need to get serious about getting my health back. I'm still playing volleyball 1-2 nights a week (mostly 1, I often skip the non-league night), but that's about it for my exercise. And that is very, very sad.

2) I'm throwing up more. I'm not sure if I'm actually more nauseated, but I'm unable to avoid throwing up when the feeling strikes. And while throwing up in an office bathroom wasn't pleasant, throwing up with a toddler peering over your shoulder and copying your spitting into your hair is worse. I've actually been taking Unisom every night and some B6 during the day, and it's been helping. I mean, sometimes I think it's not, so I skip the Unisom, and every single time I've done that, I've thrown up the next day. So yeah, I think I'm going to be taking Unisom for the next 6 months.

3) The most obvious reason this pregnancy has been harder is because of Jack. While I was nauseated 24/7 last pregnancy too, I combatted it by spending virtually every moment I wasn't working by lying on the couch or sleeping. That's obviously not an option this time, as my parenting work definitely doesn't end at 3 p.m. Bobby comes home around 4 most nights, but he's tired too. He's been picking up a lot of the slack around the house (dishes, laundry, meals), and I know it's not fair to make him be a solo parent from the moment he gets home. But honestly, he does it a lot of nights while I sit on the couch and try not to throw up.

And yes, I feel awful complaining about all of this. This is seriously miracle pregnancy #2 for me, and I'm being so terrible about it. I'm sorry. You can hate me if you want. Most days I hate myself anyway.

I need to post more often because I have a million things I need to write about (and attempt to keep track of this pregnancy somewhere!), but I just have one thing I need to get all of your opinions about. Most of you that still read this have had miscarriages. I'm sorry you're all part of that unfortunate group, but I'm hoping because of your past, you can give me some insight into a difficult dilemma I'm having.

This past year, my cousin had a miscarriage. We're close (she's my only cousin that I've ever met), but my family is not really a "sharing, mushy, talk-it-out"-type family. So I actually only know she had a miscarriage because I heard it through the family grapevine. I don't even know if she knows I know--or any of us, really. She might assume that her mom told my other aunt who told my mom who told me (which they all did), but we've never actually discussed it.

But the fact is, I do know. And I want to be sensitive. BUT...she's not a very emotional person. And in many, many ways I know they weren't ready to have a baby. I'm not even positive they want to have kids...other than they feel like that's what you do in life, you know? Like, they don't really like kids. They complain about the messes and rowdiness when their nieces and nephews come over. Cousin and her Husband are both very independent, a little spoiled, and a little selfish. I honestly don't see them having kids. And apparently they can't really afford it, either (mostly because they both have extremely expensive tastes). They just built a huge 4-bed, 3-bath house. From what I heard, my aunt basically told my mom that the miscarriage was "somewhat of a blessing" because they really couldn't afford a baby right now. Now, that's obviously an awful thing to say, and I REALLY hope she only shared that with my mom and not my cousin. My other aunt (not cousin's mom), had mentioned to me that Cousin and Husband were now trying to work hard to save some money. I'm not sure if that means they're trying again or getting ready to.

All of this to say...how do I handle announcing my pregnancy to them? We almost shared the news at Thanksgiving, but I chickened out. I just couldn't figure out how to do it tactfully. I honestly don't think my cousin will be overly offended or upset. Her sister-in-law had a baby a few months ago, and my cousin has talked a lot about going over and getting baby snuggles in and wanting to be around the baby. So she's not really going in the direction of not wanting to talk about or be around babies.

The big dilemma is that I'm obviously pregnant in our Christmas card (oh yeah, I started showing around 8 weeks this time. Yikes). We're planning to share it on Facebook next week as a way to let our extended family and distant friends know--as this is the same way we announced on Facebook with Jack. Should I text my cousin to share with her first so she's not blindsided by a Facebook post? Or would that make her feel more uncomfortable--remember, I don't "officially" know about her miscarriage. Secondly, we'll be spending Christmas weekend with my family, including my cousin and husband. This will be the first time we're all together where everyone knows about the new baby. I'm sure it'll be somewhat talked about (we're the only couple with kids). But I obviously don't want to make a huge deal about it and make her feel bad. She loves Jack, so I'm kind of hoping that Christmas will center around him and his excitement this year.

I know this is a mess and not worded well or polished at all, but I need to get this out there and get some thoughts. What would you do?

Also...so I remember someday: I'm 13 weeks pregnant. Up 4-5ish pounds, but already with a noticeable bump. I'm wearing mostly maternity clothes because my pants got instantly uncomfortable and my shirts stopped being an appropriate length. My boobs (which were sadly very low and deflated post-breastfeeding) are enormous, perky, and painful. I haven't thrown up since last Tuesday. I'm craving burgers like you would not believe (could be contributing to the pants not fitting...) and I haven't gotten anywhere near 10,000 steps in the last 3 months. Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-25703705011955795812016-10-12T19:26:00.003-07:002016-10-12T19:26:52.371-07:00Once Again Right around two years ago, I was in early pregnancy with Jack. Despite the fact that he was this miracle natural conception after two years of infertility, Bobby and I somehow got on the subject of our "other, future children." As if having them was going to be easy. And we'd get to choose when and how.

I think it was Dr. G who casually asked during one of my early appointments if this would be our only child, or if we'd want others. I sort of laughed it off at the time (polite smile, shoulder shrug, casual indifference: "We might like another someday, but we're happy with this one right now.") Dr. G then said that a lot of women say that, but then somewhere around six months, when their baby starts looking less like a baby a more like a child, they get baby fever and want another.

I told this to Bobby. I said I had my doubts, especially because pregnancy was totally kicking my butt at the time. But I also made him promise, that no matter what I said or thought I wanted at sixth months postpartum, we were NOT going to have another baby that soon.

At my six-week postpartum checkup, Dr. G and I had the birth control talk. I almost laughed out loud when he asked what we were currently using for birth control. Uh, how about a baby that never sleeps? Nipples that feel like they've been run through a paper shredder? The endless bottles and pump parts that need washing? Or how about that massive incision and Frankenstein stiches across my stomach!?! Instead, I politely said, "We plan to use condoms." He said, "Great," and we all moved on.

At six months postpartum, Jack was not sleeping. Like, ever. I did not get baby fever. Bobby asked about it briefly, and we decided we'd assess the second kid situation when Jack turned one.

That ended up being a very brief conversation. Bobby asked my thoughts, and I said that while I did want Jack to have a sibling, I wasn't ready. I had been pregnant for nine months. I breastfed for a year. I needed a little time for my body to just be my own. I was finally feeling like I was hitting my stride with motherhood. We were having more good days than bad. Jack was fun. He was walking and running and climbing. It was getting nice outside, and I was excited to start jogging with him in the stroller. I was excited to take him to the park. I was excited to go to the beach and get out his kiddie pool. I just wasn't ready to be pregnant.

But then a few months passed. I started seeing pregnancy announcements from many of the moms who were pregnant the same time as I was with Jack. I started feeling left behind. I started having those infertility doubts—what if it takes us another two years? Shouldn't we start now then? Shouldn't we have another baby while ours is still "baby-ish"? While we still sort of remember what it's like to have a newborn. Before Jack is totally done with naps and wanting to be out and on the go all the time. Before I'm 30 and my back is so damaged it could never support another pregnancy.

So a few months ago, we stopped using condoms. My periods were regular, 28-day cycles. I wasn't temping or charting or using OPKs. We were doing this the real old fashioned way. We dared to think that we were normal.

At the beginning of September, right around when my period was due, Bobby and I both got sick. Like, sinus infections, flu, allergies, anything else you could throw at us at the same time sick. We begged my parents to take Jack for three hours on a Saturday so we could just sleep and relax. Because, oh yeah, Jack somehow skipped being one and jumped head first into terrible twos (soooooo much whining!!!). I was so worried I was pregnant. I lay on the couch begging my period to come. Repeating to Bobby over and over that I could not do this. I could not handle being this sick and having ONE kid. There was no way I could do this with two.

Mercifully, my period showed up the next day. I have never been so thrilled to be in so much pain.

We recovered from the sickness from hell, but forgot to buy more condoms. I don't even know how to write this next part. I think my infertility card is officially going to revoked. I'm—once again—that girl. The girl that after having one baby is somehow fertile. So fertile, that in a month where she had unprotected sex exactly twice, without monitoring any sort of ovulation, managed to get pregnant.

I'm pregnant.

Somewhere around five weeks.

I'm not totally sure how I feel about it yet.

I'm excited about the idea. I do want another baby, please don't get me wrong. But I have reservations. I'm nervous because I know how much I hated being pregnant. I'm not looking forward to morning sickness kicking in and lasting for 17 weeks. I'm not excited about the pregnancy rhinitis that sucked the life out of me last time around. I'm worried about how my back is going to hold up. I'm nervous about another c-section recovery—this time with a two-year-old. I'm equally nervous about attempting a VBAC. I'm worried about how this is going to affect Jack.

Part of me is still really pessimistic. I've been urging Bobby to not get to excited until at least after the 7-week ultrasound. I'll feel better after hearing the heartbeat at 12 weeks. I wasn't careful this time. I haven't been taking prenatal vitamins (for two years) like I was the first time. I've been guzzling caffeine lately. I don't even remember all the "right" things I should/shouldn't be doing because I wasn't ready for it to happen this fast.

Well, I feel a little better getting this typed out and sent into the universe. I've actually suspected I was pregnant for a little over a week, but I finally took the test yesterday and told Bobby. I guess part of me wasn't ready for it to be real yet.

But a bigger part of me is ready. Jack is going to be the best big brother to this little person. Bobby's already an amazing dad—and he was actually way more excited by the news than I thought (I think he's actually wanted another baby for a while, but he wasn't going to voice that opinion while I didn't).

If you need to unfollow me, I totally understand (if anyone is even still out there reading, since I'm a terrible poster these days). I guess I'm THAT girl again. I'm pregnant with Baby #2.Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-34660853900672878972016-05-08T07:00:00.000-07:002016-05-11T08:34:46.604-07:00OneI'm finally posting this on the day that Jack turns 13 months, but I figure since it's also Mother's Day, it's sort of symbolic. And also I'm a terrible blogger. (Ha, case in point. I had this scheduled to go out on Sunday. For some reason it didn't. This is my life right now.)

Jack is one. I can hardly believe it. I know every mom says that, but it's so crazy that just a year ago he was still inside my tummy. As he was playing with little plastic eggs this Easter, I remembered that last Easter I was a big round blob on my couch. Bobby and I didn't even travel to see my family like we always do because I was too uncomfortable. Even though I was still two weeks from my due date, Jack was born only four days later. Everything has felt like that recently. There's been so much of "Last year, this was my last day of work" (Apr 3), or "At this moment last year, my water broke in the hospital parking lot" (Apr 8, 4:30 p.m.) or "Last year, I took our tiny newborn to Bobby's first softball tournament of the season, and now he's running around on his own" (first weekend in May) or "Last year at my first sand volleyball game, I was so nervous to dive and split my stiches back open." (6 weeks ppd)

We had a small birthday party for Jack - just my parents and two of our close couple friends and their two kids. It was totally a Pinterest party with handmade decorations, a full themed buffet of delicious, homemade food, and a ton of fun party games! Just kidding...did you forget who's blog you're reading? We ordered Pizza Hut and I managed to scrounge together some chips and make boxed cupcakes. And Jack couldn't have been happier.

On to the stats:
Size
At his 12-month appointment, Jack was 23.9 pounds and 29.75 inches. He's in mostly 12 month clothes, occasionally some 9 month pants, since he has short legs. But his 12 months pjs are getting stretched to their limit, so we may be heading in the 18 month direction. He's in size 5 diapers, and can still manage to leak through overnight diapers and soak his jammies nightly. I don't complain too much, since he sleeps close to 12 hours a night now.

Sleep
Speaking of sleep - sleep is good! There was a point in my life where I thought I would never sleep again. At least not for any substantial length of time. I mean, I'm still tired a lot of the time, and when Bobby asked what I wanted for Mother's Day, I said (without hesitation) "a really long nap," but I get 7-8 hours most nights (if I go to bed at a decent hour). Jack is somewhere in the 2-1 nap transition. Like today, he slept until 8:30 a.m. So I put him down for his nap at 12:15 p.m. He babbled and rolled around in his crib til 12:30. He should get a couple hours in and make it til bedtime. BUT...often on one nap days, he needs a slightly earlier bedtime, which means he'll probably wake up earlier tomorrow morning, which means he'll need 2 naps...but on 2 naps, he has a later bedtime and tends to sleep in a little bit. So...you can see the endless circle. Obviously one solution would be to wake him up at the same time every morning. But on days that I work, it's kind of nice to be able to get ready without someone tugging on my leg the whole time. And on days I don't work, I can also sleep in a bit, or enjoy my breakfast by myself. So, we're in nap transition limbo. And for right now, it works. I'm a big fan of not fixing what isn't broken.

Movement
Jack's been walking completely on his own since 10ish months, and occasionally runs. Especially towards people's knee caps or collar bones (if sitting on the floor), which he loves to headbutt at full speed. I often get comments about how well he gets around for his age. He's the only one in our Baby and Me class that can walk - though he is a month or so older than all the other kids - but he was walking at their age.

Language
He has a handful of words: mama, dada, ball (bop), duck (dut), up, banana (nana), diaper, moo (when he sees a picture of a cow), bubbles, dog, and cottage cheese (this is my favorite. It's so cute. It's generally only one he'll repeat, not say on his own, and it comes out like "cot cheese" but it's freaking adorable). He'll also repeat "brush teeth" if we say it first. He'll also say "pu-pu-pu-pu" when he sees a picture of a pig, so I'm guessing that one is close. There may be a few more I'm forgetting, but those are the ones he uses consistently.

Likes
He loves books. While we play in the living room, he constantly picks up books and brings them over to me and climbs on my lap. It's very sweet and makes this English major very proud. My parents got him a quiet book for his birthday, so he loves to play with all the snaps and hooks on it. He can't do everything, but I love these and I think it's a toy that will grow with him (and maybe keep him quiet someday in the car/restaurants/church without the use of electronics? I can dream!).

Jack loves watching cars out the window and playing outside. We're hoping to fence in our backyard this summer, which would give him more freedom, and I wouldn't have to be right on top of him - trying to convince him not to run and grab the neighbors firepit or kick his ball into the street.

Growth
I did take monthly photos, but I never posted them here since I was nowhere near getting around to posting every month. So here's a big dump of all of them. I printed them and attached to scrapbook paper and hung on our wall above his high chair for Jack's birthday. Everyone loved looking at them, and they're actually still up. Eventually they should make their way into his baby book...but I'm about as good about updating that as I am at posting here. It's crazy to see how much he's grown and changed in the last year, and I kind of like to be able to look at little tiny Mr. Burns Jack every day.

(tapping fingers together) "Excellent"

This was the best I got this month. He was too enthralled in the bear.

On his first birthday. What a little boy - definitely not a baby anymore!

And since it's FINALLY spring here in Minnesota, our cherry tree has blossomed. That always calls for a photoshoot in this house.

That little tongue. He does EVERYTHING with his tongue out.

My two favorite boys

Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-11526111304390473062016-02-17T18:26:00.001-08:002016-02-18T11:10:41.327-08:00The Boob TalkHere it is. I'm going to get this post done. It's been in the works, both in draft form and in my head for months. Today I'm going to finish it. It's not going to be as pretty and polished as I would like, but here it goes.

From Day 1, I didn't love breastfeeding. I mean, I didn't really expect to. I'm not really the kind of person that is obsessed with "bonding" anyway. I have close friends, I have casual friends, I have acquaintances, I have soul mates. All of whom I have bonded with in one way or another. And with the exception of my mother, none of that bonding has involved drinking milk from their bodies.

We didn't get off to a great start. In the hospital, Jack didn't latch well. I had a few really helpful nurses, I had a few nurses who handed him to me and told me to point his mouth toward my boob. I wasn't producing any milk, he wasn't transferring any milk, and it seemed doomed. We ended up using a nipple shield which helped a lot with his latch/my pain. A lactation consultant also suggested pumping - so after every feeding, I pumped for 20 minutes. I didn't even need bottles attached to the pump - after 20 minutes, there was only ever a drop or two of colostrum on the flanges that Bobby or a nurse would wipe off with their finger and let Jack lick. But the LC praised me and said that was awesome and to keep at it.

When Jack was five days old, he had his tongue tie clipped. That was the same day my milk came in. I kept up pumping after every feeding and built a nice freezer stash (this was the smartest thing I ever did, and probably the only reason we're going to make it a full year...more on that later though).

The first four months were not easy. My supply was great - in addition to full time nursing, I generally pumped at least an extra bottle to keep in the fridge, plus an extra bag to freeze. But it was still painful, and we used the nipple shield for a full four months.

I didn't love it, and I felt bad about that. But other than my nipple pain and annoyance at not being able to be away from my baby or pump for more than two hours, there wasn't really any reason to stop.

Plus - the one thing I did love about breastfeeding was how it helped me lose weight. I gained less than 30 pounds during pregnancy. I left the hospital down 15ish. At 6 weeks, I was down to my pre-pregnancy weight (though it was still shifted pretty significantly. I do not have my pre-pregnancy body). At 8 weeks, I could fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans. I'm still hovering about 5 pounds below my pp weight. And the ONLY reason for that is breastfeeding. I haven't been working out as much as I want (read: at all) and my eating is absolutely terrible. But I'm burning calories!

And for the record, I don't think it did much for bonding. Bobby has never once breastfed Jack (which I think is pretty darn unfair), and they are best friends. And who really thinks you can't bond while giving your baby a bottle? I mean, are you handing your newborn a bottle and walking away? Figure it out on your own, kid! You're five days old, can't you feed yourself yet? You're still cuddled up, snuggled together, watching those sweet eyes thanking you for providing them nourishment. We did plenty of bottles of pumped milk to give my nipples a break. And those times were just as sweet and special as actual nursing. Maybe more so because I wasn't wincing and trying to fix a bad latch.

"Breastfeeding is the easy part."

I don't even know when it happened. Somewhere around five and half months, I realized that nursing was easy. I could do it while walking, in public without a cover (and still not showing any skin), in my car. It was easier than having bottles prepared and kept cold. I had all Jack's food with me all the time. It required no pre-planning. I didn't even realize when I stopped hating breastfeeding.

My mom is of the formula generation. She breastfed my sister and me for 3-4 months and switched to formula around the time we started solids and started getting teeth (apparently we were biters). According to her, that's what everyone did - if they breastfed at all. The accepted theory was that formula and solids made babies sleep longer, so starting both of those as early as possible was best for everyone. She continually brought up these points to me and asked how long I was going to keep breastfeeding, especially when we started Jack on solids at 5.5 months.

And that's when I said the above words: Breastfeeding is the easy part. Even as they left my mouth, I couldn't believe I said them. Easy? When did it get easy? Remember those nightmare days of marathon pumping, bleeding nipples, lanolin stains...plus waking up in pools of my own milk when Jack had a long stretch of sleep? Or getting up to pump at 2 a.m. - despite the fact that my 3-month-old was going to sleep through the night - because there was no way I could sleep with the boulders on my chest? Now it was different. He only took 15-20 minutes to eat, and only ever three hours or so. My nipples were fine. I pumped before bed and froze the extra. No engorgement, no leaking, no greasy lanolin.

Breastfeeding as the "easy part" was actually in reference to starting solids. We started at 5.5 months because Jack was showing signs of reflux. Getting some oatmeal in him, especially before bed, seemed to help. But this meant having available food for him - even on the go. I had to pre-plan if we were going out. Or if we had a spontaneous trip, I had to try to come up with something he could eat. I had to somehow squeeze in an actual lunch - between nursing sessions, naps, diaper changes, plus trying to leave the house occasionally...how was this all going to happen? We had originally intended to do a more Baby Led Weaning approach, but for various reasons, it didn't work out. We started with mostly purees and that meant I had to either have a store-bought puree available, or have access to a blender. That's why I told my mom breastfeeding was the easy part. The hard part was spoon feeding a flailing baby. And getting enough food into his mouth (and not on his face, his hands, his shirt, his hair) that it calmed his reflux.

Somewhere around six months, I got my period back. My supply took a nosedive. Since it was now easy, I didn't really want to give up yet. So I did the oatmeal, gallons of water, Gatorade, Fenugreek thing and brought it back up. Then I got sick. Another nosedive. Then my period again. Oh, and Jack was allergic to sleep at this point, so I was sleeping in 45 minutes intervals. Also not great for milk supply. It was rough. I started giving Jack bottles of pumped milk before bed. I knew my supply was low in the evening (my before-bed pumping dropped from a solid 4-5 ounces to 2 on a good night. On a bad night, less than an ounce) and I wanted to be sure he wasn't going to bed hungry. I'd pump later to make up for the bottle, but I wasn't getting anywhere close to what he was eating. It was disheartening. I felt defeated. I felt like a failure. It took us this long to figure it out and everything was going well and now my body was failing me again. It sucked. I seemed to be producing enough to keep Jack happy during the day, so I decided to just take it day by day.

Bobby was super supportive. He reminded me all the time that this was exactly what my freezer stash was for. There was no reason to just keep saving it. We'd use it up, and then we'd use formula. No big deal. I relaxed a little (even though the speed at which we were/are burning through my stash is a bit alarming), but I'm just taking it a day at a time.

"When did you become such a breastfeeding advocate?"

Around 8-9 months, Jack because super distracted. I was never sure he was eating enough because he'd nurse for less than five minutes at a time. I couldn't really tell if it was because that's all the supply I had, or if he'd just rather play than eat. He was eating massive amounts of solids, and I checked with his pediatrician at his 9-month check up, and he said it was fine. Some kids nurse a lot, some eat a lot of solids, and Jack was healthy, hitting his milestones, so he wasn't worried.

My mom is again responsible for the above quote. She was once again (around 8 months) asking how long I was planning on nursing. I said I didn't know. A year, if I could make it. So she asked, "When did you become such a breastfeeding advocate?" I almost laughed. In fact, I may have. I mean, I'm not really. I'm definitely not a lactivist. I honestly have no opinion on how any other mom chooses to feed her baby. Right now, at this moment, breastfeeding and supplementing with our freezer stash was working. I didn't see any reason to change it.

Now, before this makes my mom sound like a horrible person, she's really not. And I don't mean that she's actually trying to undermine my breastfeeding experience either. When this conversation happened, we were in the pit of our sleep hell. I was getting up 10-12 times a night, and nursing most of those times just to get Jack back to sleep. I know she was saying this because she thought I needed a break. She thought if I wasn't nursing, she and my dad could watch Jack for a whole day and let me sleep (and not worry about pumping). They could even take him for the night. I would stop putting so much pressure on myself to guzzle gallons of water. And stop drinking that nasty tea.

Part of this makes no sense to me, even as I'm writing it. I didn't ever love breastfeeding, I'm not sure why I was so hesitant to stop. Why did even care if we kept going? I have nothing against formula. We even have a bunch of cans in our cupboard that came as samples when I was pregnant. I was using some of the pre-mixed stuff to make things like french toast for Jack. I have no idea what was driving this insane inner need to breastfeed my baby for a year. Before Jack was born, before I was pregnant, I never even thought about breastfeeding. It never once crossed my mind. Even as my friends had kids, I never really noticed who breastfed and who used formula.

When I was pregnant, I decided I'd give nursing a try. Why not? Free milk, right? I figured we'd attempt it, and if it worked, great. If not, we'd supplement. It was the same thought I had about having a natural birth. We'd try - but whatever happened would be fine. (Note: That didn't work. I'm Team C-Section.)

Once Jack was born, I decided I'd at least breastfeed a week. That would be giving it a fair shot. He'd get the "liquid gold" colostrum, get off to a good start, we'd "bond," and if that's all he got, at least he got off to a good start. After a week, things were going okay. I decided to try to make it a month. Then to my 6-week incision check. Then Jack's 2-month appointment. Then 3 months. Then 6. When I was at my height of pumping/storing/building my stash, I thought I might be able to quit breastfeeding on my birthday (Feb 2) and still have enough pumped milk for Jack to make it a year (Apr 8). When I started going though my stash much more quickly than I planned, and not being able to replace it at the same rate, I hoped I could at least quit pumping on my birthday - still nurse during the day, but not have to pump to replace the night bottle or for any other missed feeds. That also didn't happen.

Jack is 10.5 months old. I'm pretty sure I have another month of freezer milk left (including what I'm currently pumping). At 11.5ish months, I've been given the go-ahead to begin transitioning to whole milk. I'll have to recount my frozen ounces again, but I think I can quit pumping at the beginning of March. I'll still be nursing during the day mostly, but start transitioning to more cups with part pumped milk, part whole milk.

But it still isn't easy. In fact, I just made (and ate in 3 days) a batch of lactation cookies. I'm once again doing my best to boost my supply just to make it a year. I really wouldn't care if we had to start supplementing with formula during the day for a few feeds (although Jack hates it - so it would be a battle).

But a few weeks ago, I had this overwhelming sadness that I would make it this far, yet not quite a year. Even if I could only keep one feed, even if it was the 4 a.m. one, I was desperate to keep it. I never have, and still don't, love breastfeeding, but I was just hit with this overwhelming desire to nurse Jack for the last time on the morning of his first birthday. To relive those moments I first held him. To realize how far we've come. From how tiny he felt and how awkward it was for me to try to nurse him the first time. To now. To how awkward it is these days because Jack is half my height and barely fits in my lap. His legs hang off and kick against anything he can get his feet against. To remember that we've sat here and done this every single day; many, many times a day. In many, many ways I'm so ready to wean. No part of me wants to go past a year. But I do want that memory. That picturesque moment in the early hours of his birthday. I'm not a sentimental, emotional person. So the fact that I want this so badly confuses me. But there it is.

I don't know why any of this matters so much to me. Other than calorie burn, I don't know why I didn't just start on formula a long time ago. I have no idea if it's related to infertility, or just my general tendency to be stubborn goal oriented. Whatever the case, for now, I'm pushing on. Maybe I'll make it a year, maybe not. I keep telling myself the same thing I did in the beginning: I'll nurse the next time Jack needs to eat. Maybe that will be the last time, maybe not. I just need to make it through the next feed. One day at a time.Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-2144248478266781292016-01-11T13:28:00.001-08:002016-01-11T13:31:44.383-08:00Longer on the OutsideJack is nine months old. He's officially been on the outside longer than he was on the inside. I suppose it's time for me to update about him, even if no one reads this anymore. I might like to remember this someday.

He is now 20 pounds, 10 ounces and 29 inches long. His weight really slowed in the last few months because he is so freaking active. He started crawling a week before he turned 7 months. A few days later, he was pulling to stand. On Everything. Now he can easily cruise around the room holding on to furniture/toys/walls/people's legs. He has a perpetual bruise on the middle of his forehead from letting go and attempting to walk.

He is still breastfed - barely. He is so distracted, I feel like the only full feedings he gets are the early morning one and the bottle of pumped milk before bed. Then he snacks for a few minutes at a time throughout the day. He eats a ton of solids though. We're working on using a sippy cup because at one year I am done nursing. It's been a good experience; I'm glad I'm doing it; it's beautiful; we've saved a boatload of money on formula; yadda, yadda, yadda; but I'm ready to be done. I'm ready to have my body back. I'm ready to be free from the pump. I have a whole post drafted in my head about the whole breastfeeding experience. Maybe someday I'll get it written.

Sleep. I guess I can talk about sleep now. It was rough there for awhile. I actually have a post drafted that I wrote at a really low point in our sleep deprivation nightmare that lasted about 4 months. A post that would get me kicked out of the infertility community permanently. I was not in a good place. I hadn't slept for more than 2 straight hours in months. I had a constant migraine. My vision was fuzzy. I was afraid to drive anywhere because I knew I would fall asleep at the wheel. I laid down during most of Jack's naps, but they only lasted 30 minutes, so it didn't help much. Many days I would lie on the couch while Jack played on the floor and just try to keep my eyes open. And in my really low moments, I admitted that this was why I was infertile. I never should have messed with nature. I wasn't cut out to handle this. I wished I wasn't a mom.

Things were not getting better. Jack was waking up at least every 2 hours during the night, often more. I was in an ugly pit of depression. Bobby was doing everything he could to help, but he works 9 hour days. He'd take vacation when he could and let me sleep, but it hardly made a dent in my exhaustion.

So we did it. We started sleep training. We tried no cry methods and baby whispering. It'd work for a few days, but nothing substantial. Same with Ferber checks. On Christmas Day, we bit the bullet. We let Jack cry himself to sleep for as long as it took, with no intervention from us.

1 hour, 14 minutes. Since Bobby was off the next day, he agreed to take the full night, and I would sleep. Jack woke again at 12:30 and cried for 10 minutes. Again at 2:30 a.m. for an hour and a half. Slept til 7:30 a.m.

The next night he cried 44 minutes at bedtime, 29 minutes at 1 a.m., a quick feed at 4 a.m. and slept til 7 a.m.

Night 3, he cried 46 minutes at bed time, 8 minutes at 1:30, up for the day at 7 a.m.

He had one 40 minute relapse on Night 6 an hour after bedtime, but I think I messed up his schedule and he went to bed too early. Other than that, he goes to bed awake with zero crying, one feed after 4 a.m. and generally goes back to sleep until 6:30 or 7 a.m. Occasionally he'll wake up and fuss for a few minutes in the middle of the night, but he puts himself back to sleep in less than 5 minutes.

So...we're those parents. We did full extinction Cry It Out. We're terrible people who must hate our kid. Judge all you want. I'm well rested enough to take any criticism these days.

Jack's a good kid, and I'm a better mom now. We do much more playing and activities. We take a weekly Baby and Me class. We go on adventures. He loves going to Cabela's to look at the animals, especially the fish. My mom got us a family pass to the Minnesota Zoo for Christmas, so I'm excited to start going there whenever we can.

Other things...Bobby's brother moved in with us at the beginning of December. He's got a mountain of student loan debt (and didn't graduate...so not a lot of job prospects either...), plus credit card debt. He was crashing at a friend's house since he doesn't have enough money for an apartment, but they finally booted him after six months. His car doesn't run and he had no where to go. It hasn't been the best situation for me, home all day with a baby - plus breastfeeding, pumping, etc - not things I want to do in front of my brother-in-law. We're managing, but I'm seriously hoping he can find a place soon.

I'm also working two mornings a week for a few hours. It's been pretty perfect. I'm tutoring at the high school in an elective class. It's good for me to get out, and good for Jack to have a few hours without me. He's having some rough separation anxiety right now. I am at a loss for what to do about it, so advice is certainly welcome.

Last Friday, we had 20ish* weather, so it was perfect for building a snowman. Jack had fun playing in the snow as long as one of us was holding him. When we set him down, well...this might be my new favorite picture of him.

Plus here's a bonus picture from Christmas Eve:

As always, I will try to update more often, but in any down time, I'm mostly trying to dig myself out from the pile of laundry, dishes, and Cheerios from under the high chair. If you're still following - thank you. I need this place much more than any of you, but I do appreciate you coming along for the ride. Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-2539331666062075982015-10-12T11:02:00.002-07:002015-10-12T11:05:48.185-07:00Sixth MonthsJack turned 6 months old last Thursday. I don't even know how that happened. He's napping at the moment, and since I can pretty much set my watch by his exactly 30-minute naps, this is going to be quick.

Stats: 18 pounds, 3 ounces; 26.75 inches long

Teeth: None, not even started - though he's been drooling like crazy for the last 4 months. Maybe eventually?

Sleep: Next. I don't want to talk about this.

Milestones: Can roll both ways, sit up by himself for several minutes, get to hands and knees and rock back and forth, can scoot backwards and in a circle.

Likes: Food - baby oatmeal, sweet potatoes, bananas, pears. When I sit him on my stomach and do crunches. Playing with Daddy's beard. Sitting on the front porch swing. Wheels on the Bus.

Dislikes: Food - avocado, squash, peas. Being put into his car seat. Sleeping.

Nicknames: Spuds, Bobo, Big Fat Baby

That's about it.

Other things...I made it to 6 months breastfeeding!!! This shocks me almost as much as the fact that I've kept a baby alive for 6 whole months. I'd like to make it a year, and I have a pretty good freezer stash going, so it might actually happen. J is pretty distracted now during the day, so it can be hard to get a full feeding in him every few hours (which is probably part of the reason he's waking up so much at night...but I don't want to talk about sleep in this post. It will make me weep for the days when I used to sleep in til noon on the weekends).

Jack was also diagnosed with reflux, which sort of prompted our starting solids a little early. Those were a rough few weeks, but the combination of solids + Zantac seems to be helping, I guess.

I'm still staying at home for now, minus coaching volleyball. My season will be done next weekend after our state tournament, and I have mixed feelings about it. It was really nice to have something that was just mine - a guaranteed few hours away from the house and baby things every day. But we've had a pretty disappointing season, and we really haven't played up to our potential at all. The girls I have this year aren't very competitive or driven, and that's hard for me to coach. They don't seem to mind losing to teams we should beat, or not playing our best. That bothers me a lot, so it's been a bit of a rough year.

Some day I plan to update this blog more regularly, even if no one reads anymore and it's just for me. I've been terrible about keeping Jack's baby book updated, so I'd like to record some of his life somewhere.

Bonus, some photos of the boy.

Trying to crawl away while I was in the bathroom.

We call this his Godfather face. Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.

Just hanging out at Target.

Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-54560130776432900732015-08-31T10:13:00.001-07:002015-08-31T10:13:53.565-07:00Prodigal BloggerWell, friends. I'm back. Sort of. I can't promise posting here will be very regular or interesting, but I do have plans to do a better job. I've also been barely keeping up with reading all your blogs, but I'm trying! I'm mostly caught up - but I've been a terrible commenter. It's easier to read than comment with a flailing, distracted 4-month old (now almost 5-month old...that's how long it's taken me to write this post) monster attached to your boob.

About that 5-month old monster (since I know that's what you're really here for), he's amazing. He's cute, he's smiley, he has the chubbiest cheeks that just beg to be kissed. He loves his daddy. He sleeps through the night (ha! he did at the initial writing of this post. Now we're back to 2 wake ups. Hello, 4-month sleep regression). He's blown out every brand of diaper we've tried. He sometimes bites my nipple. After a 5:30 a.m. feeding, he'll often pull off, and look up at me with the biggest, happiest smile you've ever seen. And be so wide awake and want to play. I beg him to please just go back to sleep for another hour and then we can play. But he just keeps cooing and laughing and being so freaking adorable that even though I'm more exhausted than I ever thought possible, we play 17 rounds of peek-a-boo, sing "The Wheels on the Bus" (even though I totally just make things up that are on the bus and make weird sound effects cuz I can't remember the real words), play with his toes, try to keep him from licking ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING in sight (his arm, the sheets on the bed, my hair, my phone, etc.), and eventually he'll drift off to sleep next to me for a few more hours. He's a good kid. But he's also sometimes a turd.

J also recently graduated physical therapy! He had torticollis, which was causing plagiocephaly, and Dr. G. prescribed physical therapy at his 2-month appointment. We did the therapy in hopes of avoiding a helmet, and J did amazing! At his 4-month appointment, Dr. G. called his head "beautiful." It really is rounding out much better in the back, and he definitely has more mobility in his neck and can turn both ways now. I guess the torticollis is fairly common, especially with our combo of giant breech baby + short mom. He didn't love the stretches, and I hated doing them at home when he'd give me pouty faces and cry, but Bobby continually reminded me that this wasn't the last time we were going to do what's best for him, even if he hated it.

Jack now rolls back to tummy all. the. time (yeah, diaper changes and bath time have gotten really exciting), but he's now forgotten how to roll tummy to back, which he learned about 2 months ago. We had to stop swaddling, which is what I think destroyed his beautiful sleep, but we're working on it. He sleeps on his tummy now, in his crib, in his own room. We're thinking about starting him on solid food. Who is this big boy and where did my tiny baby go!?

Other things...breastfeeding is still going pretty well. I mean, I do have occasional breakdowns when I'm convinced my milk was drying up. J goes through crazy growth spurts because he will eat constantly and never seem satisfied. And then when I would pump, my output seems pretty low. But a few days of guzzling water, Gatorade, Mother's Milk tea, and oatmeal - plus nursing/pumping every hour for a day gets me back on track. It's hard, though. Harder than I ever thought. But I have to say I'm proud of myself for making it almost 5 months. We had a rough start - J losing 12% of his birthweight in the hospital, supplementing with formula in the hospital, pumping in the hospital, syringe feeding, SNS feeding, tongue tie, lip tie, bad latch, nipple shield, lazy eater, sore nipples, clogged ducts - we had it all. But I just kept telling myself I wasn't going to quit on my worst day. And then it started to get easier. And when my nipples couldn't take it anymore, I'd switch to exclusively pumping for a few days, then go back to nursing when they were healed. I wanted to make it a week. Then a month, then 6 weeks, then 3 months. Right now the goal is 6 months (with the ultimate goal of one year). We'll see how it goes. I won't quit on my worst day.

I'm also 3 weeks into to my volleyball season. I'm amazingly less tired this year (dare I say that having a baby is less exhausting than working full time plus being pregnant? it sure feels like it), and much less nauseous. And no longer terrified a stray ball is going to hit me in the stomach. But it's also more complicated, since I'm constantly worried about finding a babysitter, having enough milk pumped, wondering what the heck I'm going to do with a baby when we have a full weekend tournament in another state. So yeah, some things are much easier than last year, and somethings are much harder.

We recently returned from our Duluth vacation. We celebrated our 5-year anniversary in the same city where we honeymooned. The same city (and same hotel) where a year ago we conceived Jack. It was cathartic, I think, returning to a city we love so much with a child we longed for for so many years. Healing, you could call it.

I'll never forget those rough years of infertility, but looking at this kid every day makes it all worth it.

Relaxing on vacation in Duluth

Ready for the first Vikings preseason game

Chilling in his pool

Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-36816575946004816402015-04-21T18:42:00.001-07:002015-08-15T04:51:47.982-07:002 Week Wait
Today was supposed to be my 40 week appointment. Instead it was changed to my 2 week incision check and J's 2 week well baby check up. It's crazy, since I was pretty sure I'd still be pregnant at 40 weeks, 1 day. Bobby's work had a pool guessing gender, weight, height, and birthdate. I laughed at anyone who had me going early. I told Bobby to guess April 24. Even that seemed ambitious. J was born April 8. I cannot believe I have had a baby for 2 weeks - or really that I have a baby at all. This was the fastest 2 week wait ever!

I'm working on a post about post partum necessities and things I've learned (and wished someone would have told me before), but it takes awhile to get things typed up since I'm now blogging almost exclusively from my phone during overnight feedings. Not the easiest way to get things written.

My incision is apparently healing amazingly well according to the PA I saw. I finally got up the courage to look at it when I got home and it does look pretty good. Just like a purple line drawn with a pencil. The stretch marks and little pooch above it are another story. However I'm only 7 pounds above my pre-pregnancy weight, so I'm not too upset. Except my official pre-pregnancy weight was about 10-20 pounds higher than my ideal weight, so I still have quite a bit of work to do.

My appointment was at 3, and Baby J's was as at 3:30, so the plan was for Bobby to get J's insurance info and registration figured out during my appointment, and I would be done in plenty of time to see Dr G with them. Except they got called back early, so by the time I was done, a nurse had to go find them and bring me to their room. She warned me that "He's had an eventful day."

I didn't know what that meant, but I walked in to see a frazzled looking Bobby holding a diapered J with a burp cloth over his belly, the contents of our diaper bag scattered on the floor.

Before I go on, I have to explain that J is such a good baby. He rarely cries or fusses, even when he's being passed around. And he's never spit up before.

However, apparently he'd vomited for the first time just seconds before he got called back for his appointment. And then again while Bobby was cleaning him up. As Bobby was undressing him, J's umbilical cord stump fell off and bled. Then he projectile pooped while being weighed (naked, of course). As Bobby and the nurse cleaned him up, he then peed all over both of them and his clothes. And vomited once more on Bobby, just for good measure.

I missed all of this while I was at my incision check. Poor Bobby felt like he was in a Hugh Grant movie, except he was much less charmingly befuddled.

J has had some issues already - he had to have a tongue tie clipped at 6 days, as he had lost 12% of his birth rate early on. It didn't help that my milk didn't come in for a full five days either. He also failed the hearing test in his right ear several times, so we have and audiologist appointment next month. Today Dr G also found an issue with his circumcision, so had to fix that (so painful looking, poor baby screamed so much!), and he has a bit of skin irritation around his neck that we have to have rechecked later this week.

Sometimes it feels like we can't catch a break, but I know that all in all we're really lucky. There are so many babies sicker and with much bigger problems than ours. We are so grateful for our little boy and how healthy and happy he is.

At least when he's not painting the doctor's office with his body fluids.
Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-9024959571107387172015-04-10T21:10:00.001-07:002015-08-15T04:51:48.043-07:00A Baby Story
The story of Jack's birth starts with my 38 week appointment on Tuesday. When Dr G felt around my belly for his position, he noted that baby was really low in my pelvis - which was a good improvement from the week before. But then he frowned. Once again, my "good amount of ab definition" was having him second guess whether baby was really head down. This is still hilarious to me, because even not pregnant, I have roughly the ab definition of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

However we moved on to the cervical check. Dr. G stuck pretty much his entire fist up to his elbow inside me and felt around. He couldn't get a good feeling on the skull line, but he wasn't sure he was feeling a butt either. So he sent me for an ultrasound.

The ultrasound quickly confirmed what I dreaded. Baby was breech.

We then met with the head of the OB department, Dr R, to go over our options: basically attempt an ECV, schedule a c-section for 39.5 weeks, or wait to go into labor on my own and then get a c-section.

Well, none of these options were really what I was planning on my baby's birth to look like. I was pretty disappointed and totally unsure of what to do. I almost wrote a blog post about everything to get your thoughts, but I was still too shocked and unsure to put anything into words.

The ECV had risks and I knew it was painful. Plus I was positive it wouldn't work. Call it mother's intuition or my general pessimism around this pregnancy, but for whatever reason, I was fairly confident baby was not going to move.

I had some qualms about scheduling a c-section. What if my dates were off and it made baby too early? What if it interfered with the hormones for bonding and breastfeeding? Babies are supposed to come when they're ready. As uncomfortable and sick of being pregnant as I was, I felt bad about forcing baby out - especially before its due date.

But waiting to go into labor had its own risks. Dr. G and Dr. R stressed I shouldn't let myself get too dilated or have too many contractions. They didn't want baby any lower in my pelvis. I was already dilated to 2 at my appointment and thinning out. But they both reminded me it could still be weeks until baby was ready.

We finally made it home Tuesday night with all this new information and big life-changing decisions to make. So naturally Bobby went to Fast and Furious 7 with some friends and I took a bubble bath and went to bed. Except the cervical check from hell was plaguing me with bad bleeding, tons of mucous discharge, and what felt like menstrual cramps.

In fact, I was up most of the night trying to clean up blood and mucous and wondering if this was what losing my mucous plug meant, or if Dr G had just really irritated things. The cramps weren't too painful, and I did wonder briefly if they were contractions, but it was pretty constant - not timeable - so I tried to ignore them and sleep. Plus, when I pooped the next morning, they seemed to subside. Glad I didn't spend all night trying to time my poop!

Bobby left for work Wednesday morning and I tried to sleep for a few hours. Eventually I got up, but I was feeling super lazy. I had to make some phone calls about our breast pump insurance coverage, my summer volleyball team sponsorship, and eventually I texted Dr G and asked him to call me so we could discuss my options. He texted back that he'd call soon, but he didn't get back to me til afternoon.

We went over the options again - ECV, scheduled c-section, or c-section after going into labor. Then I briefly brought up the mucous, bleeding, and cramping. He didn't like the cramping, so he suggested I call and go to labor and delivery just to get checked out. It was likely nothing, but he didn't want my cervix to change too much, since I was dilated some already. I told him I had a few things to do, but I'd go get checked out around 4 when Bobby got home.

I called L&D and they had already heard from Dr G and were expecting me. I told them I wasn't really having contractions, and I felt fine but I'd be there in a few hours. They seemed reluctant to let me wait that long, but I really wanted to wait for Bobby.

So I called him around 2, urged him to not panic but let him know we were going in for monitoring that night. I told him to finish up work - and maybe wrap things up for the week, just in case - but I also needed him to go pick up a check from my volleyball sponsor on his way home. No hurry.

I laid down, telling myself to relax and get some sleep if this was the real thing but I didn't think it was. This was way too easy to be labor. I figured we'd be sent home from monitoring, but I threw together a few overnight bags anyway.

Eventually Bobby came home around 4 pm. He kind of putzed around, but I think he was taking his cues from me. I assured him we'd be sent home that night.

Well...we got to the hospital and as I stepped down out of the truck, there was a huge gush. My water broke. Hollywood style. In the parking lot. Now my pants were soaked. And I sort of started to panic. This was really happening - and it was super uncomfortable walking with really wet pants.

Thankfully Bobby took over and got me to just keep walking. We went into the main entrance and basically everyone ignored us. I shuffled to the bathroom to try to contain the leaking, but it was useless. We finally made it up to labor and delivery where they buzzed us in.

Dr. R was on call, so he was sitting at the desk. They were talking about me. He told us he wasn't supposed to see us so soon.

 "I think my water broke," I blurted out.

A nurse standing behind me smiled and said, "I think you're right."

They took us into a triage room and I changed into a gown. They began the check in process. I was dilated to 4 cm. This was definitely it. It was about 4:30 and Dr R came in to chat with us. He looked at the clock. "You guys should have a baby by 6:15."

The next hour went so fast and excruciatingly slow. I was having pretty strong contractions, which wouldn't have seemed so bad if I was actually laboring and working up to pushing. But knowing that they were all for nothing kind of sucked.

I met with the anesthesiologist team and a bunch of nurses. Dr. G came too, and I was so thankful. I didn't actually know if he'd be there, since Dr R was doing the c-section, but he was since he's the baby's doctor. He attended the whole thing, and sat with Bobby (who was extremely grateful for the calming presence) and then did all the baby after care.

Finally I was walked down to the OR. They helped me on the table, gave me heated blankets and the anesthesiologist did his thing on my spine. It wasn't too bad, mostly because I was ready to be done with contractions at that point. I laid down, they gave me oxygen and put up a sheet.

Dr G and Bobby came in and sat by my head. The delivery team made small talk, and Dr G told me it was because everything had to be timed, plus they wanted me to feel calm. I was pretty out of it - between the rush in, the drugs, and the oxygen. They all made guesses about the gender. Only Bobby and one other nurse said boy.

The c-section itself felt weird. I could feel my belly being manipulated and my organs moved around, but no sharp pain. Though it was pretty uncomfortable. And it took longer than I expected. I just wanted baby out!

Finally, I heard Dr. R say he could see baby's head. More tugging, and then he announced, "Dad and nurse Tara were right. We have a boy."

They held him briefly by my face, and then Dr. G took him to a little station to assess him. He was really purple, but crying. They assured me it was a good cry. They worked on him at the station, and it was close to my head so I could see everything and Bobby was right there too. I thought they'd take him away and I'd be alone, since everything happened so fast, we didn't have anyone else at the hospital. Thankfully they were just a few feet away while the team finished sewing me up. It took awhile to finish my surgery part, but they wrapped baby up and Bobby held him while sitting on the stool by my head. Jack was so chill and good. And of course Bobby is a baby whisperer, so he did great. I could see them both and I was so happy.

The big shock was when they weighed Jack. Dr G had been telling me he was pretty sure baby would be around 6 pounds at birth, due to my height/weight and my belly consistently measuring small. So it was surprising to everyone in the room when he weighed in 8 pounds, 5 ounces. 2 weeks early! Dr. G later told me that I likely would have ended up with a c-section even if he wasn't breech, since he didn't think a baby that big would have fit through my pelvis. And that would have been after many hours of hard labor. So I am thankful things worked out the way they did.

We had three nights in the hospital - it was a whirlwind trying to call our parents and families that night after the mandatory recovery time. It was about 10 pm then, and no one knew we were even at the hospital. It just happened too fast.

We're home now and mostly doing well. Jack is such a calm kid, even when we've had big groups visit and pass him around. He does have his days and nights mixed up, so he's really chill all day and then won't go to sleep at night unless he's being held.

Breastfeeding has been an adventure. It's tough - my nipple are raw and I had to use a nipple shield and start pumping in the hospital. We had to supplement with a bit of formula too, since I don't think I was producing anything for a few days and Jack dropped close to a pound pretty quickly. Hopefully my milk will come in soon.

Healing from the c-section has been hard. The incision looks great (according to all doctors/nurses/Bobby/my mom - I can't actually see it, and I'm a little scared to look), and Dr. R even said I'd be a good candidate for a VBAC in the future if I wanted. It's painful to get around, and my back is sore from compensating for not using my abs, but I'm getting there.

Oh and sleep is a million times more comfortable now than being 9 months pregnant - so those of you who are still getting there, it does get better!

And it's totally worth it.

Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-8759305289259088082015-04-10T04:05:00.001-07:002015-08-15T04:51:48.036-07:00The One Where I Had A Baby
Yep.

That happened.

Blog world, meet Jack.

Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-52254577033428885822015-03-31T09:46:00.003-07:002015-08-15T04:51:47.999-07:00Fat Feet37 week appointment went well. Dr. G. again told me that today is not my day, and I'm not allowed to deliver over the weekend because it's Easter and he has family plans. Fair enough.

The cervical check hurt INFINITELY less this time. He said my cervix is tilted more favorably (?) and softer, but no dilation yet. I have been taking Evening Primrose Oil this week - not sure if it actually did anything, but it may have helped some with the softening since last week.

I mentioned to Dr. G. that I've noticed some pretty bad swelling in my feet, hands, and face over the last week or so. He looked at my chart, and then noted that I'm up six pounds from last week. He said that it was all fluid, since my belly is still measuring small and my bump hasn't grown significantly. He's not worried since my blood pressure is still low (although it was 120/90, which is the highest it's ever been in my life, except I think it may have been the nurse's first day who did my vitals. She struggled with the blood pressure cuff and then pretty much squeezed the life out my arm while taking it. My bp may have been high because I was nervous about the real possibility of her amputating my arm). I don't know if there's anything I can do about the swelling, but I doubt it's going to get better. Dr. G noticed it even more when he put my feet in the stirrups, but he just, "Oh, your poor feet. Try to drink water and put them up when you can."

I'm grateful I live in a cool climate, and that it's a really good temperature right now. I remember one of my friends who had a baby a few years ago in July when it was close to 90* every day and how swollen and miserable she was at the end. So at least it's not that bad.

This is my last week of work, and I couldn't be happier. I'm only sleeping a few hours a night because I'm so uncomfortable, and that's definitely making it harder to focus. I'm also really uncomfortable sitting in a chair all day at my computer. I try to get up and walk around, but when I do, I look like a hobbled old lady from sitting too long. Plus, no one has given me any projects since I'm leaving soon, so I've done pretty much nothing the last few weeks. It's nice to not be stressed, but it's also pretty boring. I'm tired of cleaning out my desk and organizing files. I'm ready to be home - finish up some projects for the nursery, finish shopping for things like nipple cream and breast pads that I was not about to put on my registry, and finish up our bathroom remodel. I also have big plans to make some freezer meals (or at least grocery shop) and go on lots of walks. We'll see if I actually accomplish any of this, or if I just binge watch HGTV and Netflix all day.Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-34065421192813882452015-03-24T10:03:00.002-07:002015-08-15T04:51:47.974-07:00B is for ButtholeI had my 36 week appointment this morning, and according to Dr. G. I'm not having a baby today. And probably not this week either. He didn't give me any numbers after the cervical check, but he couldn't feel the head and had to reach waaaaay up there. That was...unpleasant.

It's okay, I could probably use a few more weeks to get ready, and baby can use a few more weeks to get stronger and fatter - although it's seriously tight quarters in there already. I'm not sure there's any more room to be had if this baby grows.

I also had the Group B Strep test today. Let's talk about that for a little bit, shall we? Why did not a single one of you bloggers with babies or those farther along in your pregnancies not think to mention that the Group B Strep Test is a swab of your butthole!?! You didn't think I would like to have that information beforehand?

I'll admit, it was probably a lack of research on my own part, but still. Help a sister out! Everything I've read - even the pregnancy books (including the ones my clinic gave me to read) failed to mention this. Dr. G. told me several weeks ago that I would be tested at 36 weeks. All the books, all of you guys, and even Dr. G. just called it a "swab." And then informed me that if I tested positive, I would need to make sure I get to the hospital early enough in labor for two rounds of antibiotics. Sure. Good. Done. Sounds easy enough.

Hello...when you tell me Strep Test, I'm gonna assume a NORMAL Strep Test. I've had strep. We've all had strep. You know, lots of coughing, sore throat, lose your voice. No fun. And you know how they test for it? With a THROAT culture. You stick out your tongue and say "Ahhhh." They look for spots on your throat. The only "swab" they take is from your MOUTH. The worst part is if they whack your hangy ball with the tongue depressor.

Do you know what they DON'T do to test for strep throat? Stick a q-tip up your ass. I would think that *someone* at some point in this pregnancy could have told me that the "B" in Group B Strep stands for butthole.

I'm feeling a little betrayed by all of you right now. But let's move on.

We're marginally ready for this baby. I still have a week and half of work left, we're about 90% finished with our downstairs bathroom remodel, and I'm officially sleeping on the recliner part of our couch. There are a few miscellaneous baby items I need to pick up. I'm putting it off until I'm done working, mostly so I have something to do, and don't spend the entire two weeks on the couch watching a bunch of shows that I'm not really that interested in, but I'm DVRing anyway so I have something to watch when I can't sleep. I figure if I have errands to run and things to buy I won't become a totally lazy blob. Or at least not lazier or blobbier than I already am.

I'm getting to the point where I know I'll be able to sleep better after the baby comes. And that's sort of scary. My friends with toddlers laugh at me when I say this, but my friends with newborns understand. They still remember just how uncomfortable these last weeks are. One friend with a newborn shared recently that even though she's only sleeping for an hour or two at a time, it's the best sleep she's had in five months since she's finally able to get comfortable. I can't actually remember what comfortable feels like. No feet in my ribs? No head butting in my pelvis? My hips don't ache? My obliques can actually support the weight of my stomach without strain? I know I was really lucky that I slept really well until about 32 weeks, but I'm making up for it now.

And after three weeks of beautiful weather and complete snow melt (which meant slip-on flats and no socks!), it decided to snow eight inches yesterday and I had to drag out my boots again. I just can't catch a break! Although after a surprise butthole swab, I'm not sure anything should shock me.Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-46805801995467045492015-03-19T10:51:00.001-07:002015-08-15T04:51:47.990-07:00The Great DebateI'm going to broach a controversial topic that I am aware has started and fueled all kinds of Mommy Wars. Let's talk Stay At Home Moms vs. Working Moms. I don't really want to be controversial or start a war here, what I want to know is how you made the decision (or are working on making the decision) about what the best option is for you and your family.

Well, to be entire truthful, what I really want to know is what the best option is for me and my family.

I know that many families don't actually have much of a choice. It's purely a financial decision about whether they can afford child care or if they can afford to feed their family on a single income. I do recognize how lucky I am that, for at least right now, I do have a choice. But that doesn't mean it's easy.

We are in a good place financially. That can happen when you have a Double Income No Kids lifestyle for nearly five years. When Bobby and I first got married, we were poor. I was just out of college, unemployed, and Bobby was making $9.00 an hour. We lived in a tiny basement apartment and ate A LOT of Mac n Cheese. Luckily I had a few thousand dollars in savings, or we would have been in big trouble. But eventually I got a job, Bobby kept getting promotions and raises, and with a year or so, we were doing much better. Plus, we both had supplemental income from coaching. (Ha!) Okay, that's kind of a joke. Coaching takes up waaaaay more time than the stipend makes up for. I think I make like $.0003 an hour coaching. But back then, what I had was time, and no money, so it seemed like a reasonable tradeoff.

After we bought our house, we set a certain goal amount for how much savings we thought we should have before expanding our family. After a year or so, we hit our goal and started trying for a baby. Since it took us an extra two years after that to even get pregnant (and no fertility treatments) - and we were still socking away savings - we're at a pretty comfortable place right now. Call it an unexpected blessing of infertility.

I've been at my current job for a little over four years, and I have become increasingly unhappy with it for the last year or so. If I hadn't gotten pregnant last summer, I would have been job searching for something new anyway and quit as soon as I found something. I needed to get out. I needed a change. Obviously pregnancy isn't the ideal time to job search, but it does make an excellent way to leave a job you're unhappy with, without burning any bridges. Everyone is extremely happy for me to be able to stay home with my baby - I have a feeling there would be much harder feelings had I just left for something better.

My last day is April 3, the end of my 37th week of pregnancy. It's pretty awesome to know that I can take my time and not worry too much about official "maternity leave." I know that if I were staying at my job, I would be pressured into working up until my due date to maximize my time off, plus checking in, working from home, and getting things done much sooner than I would be ready. It'll be nice to not have to care if things are falling apart without me. I'll officially be a stay at home mom.

But I'm not sure I want to be.

I'm about to say some things, and I know how they're going to sound. It's going to sound like I think I'm too good/smart/etc. to be a stay at home mom. And that's not the way I want it to sound. These are all confusing feelings, and the only reason I'm writing them is to attempt to sort them out.

Here's the thing: I went to school for four years. I paid a huge sum for my education. I did all that because I want to be working in my field, and I want to be making a difference and contributing to society. Is it all just a huge waste if I stay home and never use my education again? How do I justify that? I really don't know if I could be "fulfilled" in the same way by being a stay at home mom as I am when I'm writing and designing and creating. I'm sure many moms are. I know some consider it the most meaningful job they'll ever do. I don't think I'm that kind of person though. I think I would feel like I'm being lazy. And cheating myself out of my dreams.

On the other side, should I even be having a baby if I'm so selfish? What's the point of having a kid if you're going to give it to someone else for the majority of their lives to raise? Plus, child care in our town is expensive and really hard to get into - especially for newborns. It makes very little sense for us to put a newborn in day care that would eat up nearly my entire paycheck. I'm lucky that my parents are local and my dad is retired, so we do have the option of some short-term care, but I know he wouldn't be interested in doing 40 hours a week of day care, and I would never ask/expect him to.

I'm also lucky that my field (writing/graphic design) has the possibility for freelance work. I could work from home on some projects, but starting a business, building clients, etc. is really time consuming if I plan to make any decent money from it. I would also have the added expense of upgrading my home computer and software to be able to do it.

I've been asked about tutoring, which would be great, but then I would need a babysitter or to work in the evenings once Bobby's home - and that would cut into my ability to coach, at least in the fall. But it's a possibility.

I've also been asked about subbing, which I don't have my teaching license, but our school district is considered "high need" and can use subs without teaching licenses, as long as they have degrees in the subject. It's a possibility, but I've never actually taught a class, only tutored one-on-one and in smaller groups. It's a bit scary. Plus I would need a babysitter on days that I subbed.

So all of these things are jumbled up in my head, and I'm wondering what the heck I'm supposed to do with my life. I feel like I'm 18 again. Or 22.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT I WANT TO BE WHEN I GROW UP!

I'm sort of thinking about not doing anything until my volleyball season is over next October - but if I want to get into something in the schools, that might be too late. Should I be thinking about giving up coaching for awhile? I have discussed this with Bobby, but he's not much help. He tells me he wants me to do whatever makes me happy. Ugh. The nerve of the guy, right? So difficult.

Are any of you career counselors? Tell me what I should do, please! Or at least share your stories about how you made/are making your decision about what to do.Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-15636883578353914282015-03-17T08:26:00.001-07:002015-08-15T04:51:47.953-07:00It's Getting RealRight now, I'm currently alternating between two panicked worries. 1) That I won't know when I'm in labor and 2) That I'll think false labor is real labor and won't be able to handle the pain of either one.

Let's talk about the first one. Every time I have this worry, I think it's ridiculous. This is supposedly the most painful event in a person's life. And I'm worried I'm just going to sleep through it? No - I don't think I'm going to be one of those women who's baby just gushes out while she's on the toilet or in the shower. I'm not that lucky. I fully expect to spend a good 9,000 hours in labor - at least 12 of them solid pushing. My body has done nothing to convince me that it's going to be kind to me and give me one of those births that leaves me saying, Would you look at that! A baby just fell out of my vagina. How effortless and convenient.

No, what I'm worried about is that I'm really good at ignoring pain. There have been a few nights where I've had really terrible cramping (don't worry, it turned out to just be poop) and I've thought...I wonder if I should be more concerned? I haven't had any trips to labor and delivery for pain or suspicious activity. I haven't even called the nurse line. Every single mom friend I've talked to said they did these things multiple times. Most of them went in at one point for Braxton Hicks contractions or for not feeling enough movement or for pain that turned out to be RLP, or for cramping that was just constipation. Whenever I wonder if something is wrong, I just ignore it instead. Maybe do some light Googling.

Maybe it's because I had pretty terrible menstrual cramps growing up. I tend to be able to ignore stomach pain pretty well. I once had a UTI that I let go long enough that it turned into a kidney infection. I let that go for a good 24 hours until I was in so much pain I was throwing up and barely lucid. When I finally got checked by a doctor, they couldn't believe I had driven myself and was still walking. After passing a few kidney stones, part of me thinks that pushing out a baby is going to be easy. According to a pain-rating chart I saw recently, most women do put kidney infections/stones higher on the pain scale than even natural child birth.

I'm not worried I'm going to "miss" labor and end up delivering at home, but I am worried I'm not going to know if something is wrong soon enough to do something about it. I'm worried that I should be better at knowing my body and not ignoring when things are painful. I'm worried that I'm going to be too stubborn about not wanting to get to the hospital too early that I get there too late and it negatively affects my baby.

Which leads me to the second point. My goal is to not go to the hospital until I'm around 5-7 cm dilated. I want to labor at home before that, so that I'm comfortable, able to eat, and manage pain in my own way. When I'm in pain, I like to be left alone and deal with it (ignore it)- see kidney infection story above. I'm afraid that in a hospital, I'm not going to get that option.

I'm afraid that labor's going to start, I'm going to wait it out a few hours and finally think I'm in so much pain I must be close to transition. So I'll pack up and go to the hospital--and find out I haven't even started dilating. Or I'm 1-2cm. That my pain tolerance isn't even close to what I thought it was. They'll send me home and I'll spend the next 8,500 hours in absolute agony before my body even starts laboring for real.

So - how do you balance these two things? How do you "manage" early labor on your own and know the exact right time to go to the hospital? How will I know if something's wrong if everything is so painful anyway? I get waiting for contractions 3-5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute, for 1 hour - but how do I know my body isn't just going to stall at some point during those, or after, or once I get to the hospital? Do most people just not worry about this sort of thing and trust their "mother's intuition?" Because I sure don't.Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-75573914401715551782015-03-10T09:33:00.001-07:002015-08-15T04:51:48.024-07:00Tiny MittensYesterday afternoon, I sat in the rocking chair in our nursery brimming with new things for our baby, writing thank you notes to all of the wonderful people who came to my shower. I'd pause, look around me, and wonder who's life I was living. Certainly not my own. Someone else must own these cloud-soft blankets and tiny mittens that barely cover my thumb. When Bobby pulled them out of the gift bag and held them up for the first time, he nearly fainted. "You've got to be kidding me! These are not for real people!" I told him they were to keep baby from scratching its face. "I know that, but no one's hands are this tiny. This is ridiculous."

Of course Bobby and all his brothers were over 10 pounds (one was nearly 12!) at birth, so it's true that his hands were probably never that small. Dr. G. thinks I'll have closer to a 6.5 or maybe a small 7-pound baby - which sounds much better to me (and my vagina) than pushing out a 10-pound toddler. But still, as I fold these newborn onesies and socks and hats, I can't help gawking at just how tiny everything is. Which is scary, because to me, tiny = breakable.

My 34-week appointment today was uneventful. We talked a bit about what I should be looking out for, and Dr. G said for the next week if I have any contractions, leak fluid, or have decreased fetal movement I need to go to labor and delivery. After next week, I wait until my contractions are 3-5 minutes apart, lasting 1 minute for an hour. I should call labor and delivery when they start to give them a heads up, but after 35 weeks they don't try to stop labor. Um...yikes. I could have a baby next week. While I'm super uncomfortable and feeling like baby is totally running out of room, I'm not ready yet. Thankfully I haven't had any sort of contractions other than Braxton Hicks, and as far as I can tell, baby is still pretty content. It's head down, but not super low. My last day of work is April 3, and I was kind of counting on having a few weeks at home after that before baby comes - so let's hope it stays put for at least another 3 weeks! I did feel my first instances of "lightening crotch" last night, which I'm guessing means baby is head-butting my cervix. I'm not impressed by this new trick.

Baby kept kicking Dr. G's doppler around today, so he remarked, "Well, I'm not worried about fetal distress or decreased movement, but your kid may have a bit of an attitude problem." When I texted Bobby after my appointment to tell him this, his only response was: Boy. Of course, I texted back, Or an active, athletic girl...

We really have no idea, and Bobby had a panicked moment about it when we were in the car on Saturday. He kind of freaked out saying, "What were we thinking not finding out!? We literally have no idea if what's inside of you is a boy or a girl!"

I tried to ask why it mattered at this point...what would we really be doing differently? He didn't know, but it made him really nervous all of a sudden. Maybe because we haven't come to any sort of decision on a name. Or because he panicked that we'd have to pay for a wedding if its a girl (I promised we'd have a few years to save). Or because there's so many other uncertainties (labor, delivery, hospital stay, visitors, etc.) that he's feeling powerless - and knowing if we're coming home with a boy or a girl would help him regain some sense of control over the process. He's since calmed down, but it's sort of adorable when he gets worked up about this kid. I know it's just because he loves it so much and wants to do everything right.

Which starts with more tiny laundry tonight and putting away more itty bitty mittens.Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-21245648183850358262015-03-03T11:36:00.002-08:002015-08-15T04:51:47.958-07:0033 Week RamblingsWe have a crib! Of course, we have no bedding for it, but I feel like it's a step in the right direction. My aunt also let us have one of the rocking chairs from her house (she had nine - we were allowed to "shop" and choose whichever we wanted), so our nursery is actually starting to fill up.

I also spent last Friday priming and putting two coats of paint in our new bathroom downstairs. That was a HUGE mistake. I was sore for days. I still am. My back may never recover. I'm going to the chiropractor again tomorrow, and hopefully he can help me. I have been miserable, and I'm seriously wondering if I can make it four and a half more weeks at work. Sitting is the worst. Second only to standing/walking/lying down. I do not know how people work right up until delivery. I thought I would be one of those women. I am not. I am a worthless blob. Yes, I'm currently super fun to be around. I'm trying not to complain or be difficult, but chronic pain is no joke. I have sooo much more empathy for people who deal with pain like this all the time.

My shower is coming up on Sunday. I'm not really a shower girl. I don't like going to them, I don't like having them held in my honor. Bridal, baby, whatever - they're always uncomfortable. I'm grateful that I have friends who want to do this, and so many people who are willing to gift us stuff, but the whole concept is just strange to me. And I keep hearing how annoyed people are that we don't know the gender, because apparently it makes buying gifts difficult. Um...sorry to inconvenience you?

I'm starting to get antsy. At 33 weeks, it feels like I'm in the home stretch, but not yet in a "any day now" way. Like I know I probably still have at least 7 weeks, likely even more. So I'm feeling big and unwieldy, but I know it's still going to get worse. And the end is not yet in sight. I am trying to enjoy these last few weeks and cherish this time, but I am ready to be done. I haven't loved pregnancy, and I didn't really expect to. I was not someone who had dreamed her whole life of being pregnant. Of course I want kids - and I really, really want this one - but pregnancy is a means to an end for me. I would want this kid just as badly if someone else had carried it for me.

I'm grateful that I had the opportunity to be pregnant, but I'm going to be sooooo happy to not be pregnant. Believe me, I have all the motivation in the world to lose the weight every single time I have to put on my boots. Or drop something on the floor (which is ALL.THE.TIME. I am the so clumsy lately! I don't even know who I am anymore!). Or by the end of every day when I sit on the couch with my shirt pulled up and belly exposed because even the thinnest piece of fabric feels like it's restricting my stomach. I think I burned 500 calories this morning while putting on my pants. I don't even want to talk about Satan's minions that are socks.

It's also strange that it's the beginning of March and I'm not in the midst of tryouts. I miss it, but I'm also very happy with where I am right now. What a difference a year makes!Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-51867192227786548972015-02-24T12:10:00.001-08:002015-08-15T04:51:47.994-07:00This and That32 Weeks. In some ways, I can't believe I've made it this far. It took so long to get pregnant, and then pregnancy just flew by in an instant. In other ways, I can't believe I still have 8 weeks left to go. I feel like I've been pregnant forever. I can't actually remember what it feels like to fully inflate my lungs. Or have zero pain when I sit, stand, walk, eat, or sleep.

I had my 32 week appointment today, and everything is still basically the same. Baby's heart rate is holding steady in the mid-150s, belly measuring 1 cm small (31), my blood pressure is still pretty low (102/78), and I'm up 18 pounds. Dr. G. now thinks that baby is head down. Hopefully it stays that way.

I'll probably try to go to the chiropractor again in the next couple weeks to keep my pelvis aligned. Except my chiropractor recently stopped accepting my insurance, so it got a lot more expensive. I'm told that a properly aligned pelvis and spine can speed up labor and delivery (and being improperly aligned can slow it down, and even prevent it from progressing), so I'm thinking it might be worth the extra cost. Plus, he has the magic pregnancy pillow so I can lie on my stomach there. Yes, at this point I'm willing to pay a guy $40 to let me lie on my stomach for half an hour.

I've seen a chiropractor for most of my athletic career for various injuries and mis-alignments, but I've only just started reading about it's affects on pregnant women. I went two weeks ago after my last OB appointment when Dr. G. said baby was still transverse, and the chiropractor did his Webster thing and some pushing on some ligaments and now baby is head down. Could be coincidence, could have worked. Baby also dropped a bit lower which has been a nice vacation from its constant drumming on my ribs.

Has anyone done the chiropractor thing? Think it helps with labor? Or baby's positioning?

My chiropractor is a bit on the crunchy side, as he gave me pamphlets on doulas and a copy of his wife's (natural) birth plan on my first visit while pregnant. He also gave me magnesium samples and encourages lots of herbs and teas. I do feel good about him though, because he is an MD, and he's the sports medicine doctor for our local minor league hockey team. So crunchy, but maybe not all the way granola. Plus Dr. G. is definitely a man of science, so it's sort of nice to hear some alternative options too.

I did have a good conversation with Dr. G. today about going a little more natural. I've never told him that I want to go completely natural - I'm not actually sure I do at this point - but I am keeping my options open. I know he suggests getting an epidural, but he said he's open to whatever I want. He just encourages his patients to be flexible - especially first-time moms. He said he's had several patients who were strong, tough women but totally fell apart as soon as labor started and couldn't handle it. And he's seen many who he was sure were pretty much wusses, but they were confident and calm and dealt with labor surprisingly well. So while he thinks I'm strong and confident and tough, there's really no way to know how things are going to go down. He just wants me to keep an open mind, listen to suggestions given by him and the nurses, and be willing to go with whatever will keep me and baby safest. I told him, "That right there is my birth plan."

My mom bought us a car seat/stroller and dropped it off this weekend, and my mother-in-law texted me last night to say she bought us a crib and mattress and it's currently shipping to our house. So we're starting to grow our baby collection. My shower is March 8, so we're sort of putting off buying anything else until after that. I'll be 35 weeks then, so hopefully this kid doesn't decide to show up too early!

I leave you with my 32 week bump photo (or at least an accurate representation of it):

Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-57356066497583273282015-02-19T08:43:00.002-08:002015-08-15T04:51:48.008-07:00A Letter to Me
**To be read at 3 a.m. in 10-12 weeks**

Dear Lilee,

You did it. You had a baby.

You still don't believe it, do you? Despite the fact that the sweet child with your blue eyes and Bobby's adorable, upturned nose is in your arms (screaming?) right now, you still can't believe it's happening. That's YOUR baby. You have the bleeding, torn up lady bits to prove it. I mean, of course you tore, right? Like a tenth degree tear. Worst the hospital has ever seen. You like to hold records like that, and you seem to be pretty good at it. Don't worry - you can use it against the kid when they're being a snotty 15-year-old..."After 90 hours of labor...do you even know what you did to my vagina!?"

Or maybe you're balancing the baby a bit precariously, trying to avoid putting pressure on your C-section incision. The C-section you fought so hard to avoid, but someone talked you into it because you weren't progressing fast enough. Or because even at 40+ weeks this kid refused to dislodge its head from your ribcage. I know you feel guilty that you didn't get to have a "natural" delivery. You don't even want to feel guilty, but you do anyway. Like your body failed you, once again. Like you just weren't strong enough. If you could have just pushed for another hour...If you'd gone to a chiropractor, or for acupuncture...If you had just taken the epidural earlier...If...If...If.... You can feel sad about it now - it's okay. You can feel guilty. You're allowed to feel however you want. On this cool, spring night, alone in the dark in this nursery with your baby, let yourself feel it all. Eventually these feelings will fade and you won't care at all how this baby came into the world. You don't look that good in a bikini anyway.

I know you're tired. You're sick of breastfeeding already. Maybe baby isn't latching so well, or your nipples feel engulfed in molten lava...or maybe you even gave it up all together after only two days. Don't worry about it. I guarantee the kid is getting enough to eat. Bobby and mom and everyone else are not going to let it starve. You did your best. Before you try to refute that and start on the "if" game again, just stop. I know you. You don't half-ass anything. I know you dove into breastfeeding face first and gave it all you had. Maybe it worked, maybe it didn't. But you tried. Whatever delivery system you're using to get this kid milk is still letting you bond. Look at that sleepy, happy face. You'll bond over your love of reading or Bon Iver or hockey. When was the last time you bonded with mom over your love of eating from her boobs? Gross, right? The kid will get over it.

I'm going to say something hard here, something you're pretending you don't feel, but I know you do. You're wondering if you've made the biggest mistake of your life. You're hiding it; you're throwing yourself into motherhood--all in, because that's what you do--but you have doubts. Sometimes you miss the nights on the couch watching the Wild with Bobby. You curled under his arm, face resting on his chest. You miss your chaotic morning "routine" that was really anything but a routine. You miss eating out on a whim, going for frozen yogurt at midnight, and sleeping til noon on Saturdays.

You know your life isn't over. You know you'll do those things again - despite what other parents tried to scare you with when you're pregnant.

But still, you have those feelings. They creep in like the morning light through the crack in the blinds.

Sometimes you wish you weren't a mom.

And the instant you have that inkling of a thought, you hate yourself. You hate yourself because it took you so damn long to become a mom. That for two straight years it was the only thing you hoped for, wished for, thought about. You hate yourself because of your infertile friends, and how they would do absolutely anything to be in your place right now, holding this tiny baby. They would have taken pregnancy in stride, instead of complaining about it like you did. They would have signed up for the prenatal classes. They would have been better at giving birth. They could have breastfed their baby...

Remember what grandma told you all those years ago about grief and sadness? That for just a little bit - a few minutes, maybe an hour - let yourself feel it all. Feel every painful inch of that grief. Don't keep pushing down that bit of gnawing - face it: experience it. Jump in the shower where no one can hear or see you. Cry. Scream. Say bad words. Hate everyone and everything. And then, you let it all wash down the drain. You let it go. You're done. You get out of the shower and you deal with life.

So do it. Put the baby down tomorrow morning. Even if it cries and screams for a while - it'll be okay. Put it in that chair thing. Or the swing. Ten minutes of crying is not going to damage it for life - it might save yours.

No, your life is not over. You will still see your friends. You will play volleyball again. You will have a meaningful job. You will sleep in til noon. Don't let people scare you when they tell you you'll never do anything for yourself again. That's not you, and you're going to do this mom thing your own way.

One thing is true: your life will never be the same. The old, comfortable days are gone. Those were really great times, and you were blessed to have five years of them - just you and Bobby. But these will be good times too.

Just look at that baby. Sure, it resembles Wallace Shawn more than either you or Bobby. But this is it. Don't miss out on this moment. Don't worry about taking a photo or writing something in the baby book you haven't even removed from the cellophane. Just be here. Be present. And be here again in two hours. And again after that.

You can do this, Lilee. You have a baby.Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-4159768914771346202015-02-10T08:43:00.004-08:002015-08-15T04:51:47.986-07:00Final CountdownI'm 30 weeks pregnant and my baby is the size of a fruit. Probably. I don't know, I never read those fruit update things. They're weird and confusing. The bump under my shirt is roughly the size of a volleyball, if that helps.

At my appointment yesterday, I was up a total of 16 pounds. It was the first week Dr. G. didn't say anything about my weight. He may have just forgotten or didn't look. Or maybe he realized it was my birthday last week, so I obviously overindulged in cake. And ice cream. And breakfast food. And more cake. Baby's heartbeat is still in the 150s, and my belly measured 29 cm (so 1 cm small). He was sure this time the baby was transverse still, so I guess my "too much ab definition" didn't last long.

I'm definitely feeling big. And pretty blah. I can't imagine that my skin is going to stretch much more or that my back can handle anymore front weight. There's no way this kid is going to DOUBLE in size in the next few weeks. But it's what they tell me. And by "they" I mean the people that think your baby goes from the size of a pomegranate to the size of a banana in a week. Those aren't even comparable! What kind of shape-shifter do they think is inside of me right now?!

Remember when I said I hoped to have everything done by 30 weeks? Nursery finished, baby stuff purchased, bags packed, etc.? Yeah...none of that has happened. We still have nothing. Instead, we've been spending all our time and money putting in a bathroom downstairs. So...I hope you like your cardboard box bed, kid! Mama's getting a rain shower!

My husband is officially freaked out by my belly button. It's technically still "in," but it's pretty flat. Another big meal or two and it'll pop. Bobby thinks it looks like a cat's butthole, and he doesn't like to look at it. I can't actually see it unless I pull on the skin, which makes him even more uncomfortable. I try to warn him that this is not the worst thing he's going to see my body do during this pregnancy...

We did take a tour of our hospital birth center yesterday after my appointment. It was really weird because they literally had zero patients. Like, I expected us to be interrupting their day, but they had no babies in the nursery, no one delivering, no one recovering. So it was nice that we got to see everything and we didn't feel like huge nuisances. But it was so quiet, and we really didn't have any questions (probably should have--but I was kind of unprepared. Shocked? I know, me too).

Dr. G. keeps telling me I'm too easy of a patient because I never come with a long list of questions. I guess I don't have many. I have all of you! Plus this pregnancy has been fairly straightforward. He asked me what I want to know about labor, but honestly, what I want to know, he can't really tell me. I want to know if I'm going to freak out or handle it well. I want to know if I can do it unmedicated. I want to know how bad it hurts. I want to know if my baby is going to be breech. I want to know if I'm going to have to have a C-section.

He did tell me I'll get an IV right away when I check in, which doesn't make me too happy, but it sounds like it's non-negotiable. He's also super pro-epidural. I wouldn't say I'm anti-epidural, I just know I don't want it the moment I walk in. I hate the idea of being stuck to the bed and being numb. I hate the idea of a needle in my back. I have so many back problems already, I'm a little protective of doing painful things to it!

Once I figured out the difference between Braxton-Hicks contractions and normal baby movement, I realized I was having BHs a lot. Mostly when I work out or do a lot of walking, but also anytime during the day. Dr. G. asked if I'd had any contractions, and when I told him just the BH, he said "Good to know, but you don't get any credit for those." I guess he's not worried.

So Bobby and I have reached a good compromise about his reading all the baby books I want him to. Since I can't do much to help with the bathroom, in the evenings while he's working on it, I sit and read the books to him. Apparently he didn't know there was a "third stage" of labor, and that I had to deliver the placenta. ("Wait...after you cut the cord, where does it go? Isn't it just hanging out of you?") After I read him the rest and he learned this new information, I tried to kindly remind him that this was why I wanted him to read the books in the first place. So he would know what needed to happen.

Of course, he likes to be snarky sometimes, so he said, "Yeah, it's a good thing that I'm going to be the one that knows what's going on. I'm sure the doctor and nurses will all turn to leave after the baby's out, and then I'll be like, 'Hey wait guys, we need to deliver the placenta!' And they'll be so grateful that I'm here to remind them what to do."

I pulled up my shirt and showed him my ugly belly button.Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-2234597770263140652015-02-05T07:57:00.001-08:002015-08-15T04:51:47.962-07:00The Other Side of Sad NewsA co-worker approached me this morning at my desk, and asked if she could speak with me - obviously indicating in private, away from others who share my cube space.

I followed her to the work room where she told me she was planning on sending out an email about her son and daughter-in-law's baby, who was stillborn last night. The baby was born at 32 weeks - 2 lbs, 4 ounces, but didn't make it.

My co-worker had tears in her eyes as she shared this with me, saying she wanted to let the rest of the staff know, but she didn't want me to see an email and panic. That was so sweet and thoughtful of her, and really not necessary. I could tell it wasn't easy for her to share this in person with me, as she obviously wasn't ready to talk about it. I just repeated dumb things like, "Oh that's too bad" and "I'm so sorry."

She had announced this pregnancy and excitement over a new grandchild many weeks ago during our staff meeting, likely when her DIL was about 12 weeks along. I didn't announce my own pregnancy until 20 weeks, but I was only three weeks behind this girl, so I was well aware of my own pregnancy during the announcement.

I thanked her for telling me first, hugged her, and felt an overwhelming sadness for this couple I'd never met. It wasn't until I returned to my desk that I really thought about what this meant. Even though I've been feeling pretty good sitting here at nearly 30 weeks, nothing is guaranteed. I've read a lot of success stories of babies born in the early-30-week-range that made it, but I'll admit, I've purposely avoided all the stories of early babies that didn't. Until this one landed right in front of me.

Part of me feels really horrible for still being pregnant. This co-worker is going to have to watch me keep getting bigger and eventually (hopefully) have a baby. She's going to know that she should have a granddaughter three weeks older. I know what it feels like to be on that side too - and it's not a good feeling.

Some of our good friends that we hang out with all the time have a precious two-year-old girl that just adores Bobby. We had started trying right around the same time they did - although she's their second child. Every time we're at their house, I can't help but think that we should have a little one running around with her, playing dress up, making messes, and begging Bobby to spin them in circles over his head. Being pregnant lessens the sting a bit, I guess, but it definitely doesn't erase it. Lileehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-22348056648840531452015-02-02T12:36:00.001-08:002015-08-15T04:51:47.966-07:00Birthday GirlToday is my birthday. I'm 27.

If you're a long-time reader, you may remember that I should be in Hawaii right now.

I'm definitely not in Hawaii right now, as the temperature on my phone is telling me it's 9* out, with a wind chill of -3*. More importantly, I'm not in Hawaii because I'm 29 weeks pregnant. 29 weeks. Holy balls.

On Friday, I passed my 3-hour glucose test. To celebrate, I spent the weekend eating my weight in birthday cake, Super Bowl snacks, and frozen yogurt. If I wasn't before, I'm surely on my way to diabetes now! Or at least a huge lecture from Dr. G. on my excessive weight gain at my 30-week appointment.

I also handed in my official resignation at work today. My last day is April 3, the end of my 37th week of pregnancy. It feels simultaneously just around the corner and a lifetime away.

This is a short post. I think I have something really long and ranty coming (work related) maybe later this week, but it's my birthday, and I don't want to write about something so stressful today.

I'm having Bobby take me out to a local diner tonight because I have a craving for breakfast food that is absolutely insatiable. I'm hoping to at least put a dent in it tonight.

Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6186701529721090687.post-13301918862793807832015-01-26T10:56:00.003-08:002015-08-15T04:51:47.950-07:00Of Course I FailedTo the shock of absolutely no one, I failed my glucose test this morning. I mean, why not? Getting pregnant was hard. Being pregnant is hard. Why not add another dimension of making my life difficult in this area?

Yes, I'm unnecessarily bitter about this. My doctor is convinced I'll pass the three-hour test with no problem...although he put off my one-hour test until 28 weeks because I had no symptoms or risk factors for diabetes, and he was convinced I'd pass no problem. I'm definitely all about defying the odds and being that one in a huge number statistic.

Honestly, when Dr. G. called with my results, I wanted to cry. I was at work, surrounded by co-workers in neighboring cubicles, so I couldn't, but I wanted to. I just wanted to quit. Everything. 148 with a cutoff of 140. 8 points. Un-freaking-believable.

I had much more to write about--good things--but I'm too annoyed to remember everything. So here's the rundown of the rest of my appointment today.

Heart rate in the 140s. Belly measuring 1 cm small. I'm up a total of 16 pounds. Blood pressure 90/55.

Dr. G. noted in my chart that he's "90% sure" baby is now head down, but I still have too much ab definition for him to be 100% sure. Yeah...that's never been an issue for me before EVER, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to add "too much ab definition" to my resume.

That's the only good thing to come out of my appointment today.

So...what are the secrets to cheating the 3-hour glucose test? Anyone fail their 1-hour and then pass the 3-hour? Should I be cutting out sugar this week, or eating more so the glucose isn't a shock to my system that morning? Dr. G. told me to walk a lot the day before - any other special tricks? I walked all over the hospital today between the end of my appointment and waiting for the hour to be up for my blood draw, mostly because I was bored and I didn't want to sit with all the sick people at the lab. Clearly it helped a lot.Lileehttp://firstname.lastname@example.com