There was this perfect moment on Thanksgiving morning right after Alaine was born. The labor was over. The snow was falling. And I looked over into the isolette that had been sitting empty for 36 hours and saw this beautiful baby, wide-eyed, round head, pink cheeks. Perfection. A few moments later, she was laid on my chest and I was wholly overwhelmed with love.
I didn’t believe throughout my entire pregnancy that it could be real. That I could really have a perfect little person growing inside of me. Our miscarriage last year shook my confidence, and then the discovery of Tomas and the myriad of other ‘not quite right’ health issues that cropped up only shook me more. The only time that I truly waited with excited expectation was during and immediately following ultra-sounds. The rest of the time a large part of me was in a state of protective ambivalence. If I didn’t think about what was at stake, or at least if I didn’t fully grasp the reality of it, maybe if I lost it, it wouldn’t hurt so much.
As we prepared more and more for the birth of baby, taking precautions that startled me and made me face the reality that this pregnancy was unique and that this labor and delivery would have to be too, made me feel more secure in some ways, and more frightened in others.
And then there was our luck that ran through to the end.
We were scheduled to go in to begin the induction on Monday the 22nd. I got myself as mentally ready as I could for that, and when Monday dawned, I had on my game face.
Then it started snowing…. And snowing…. And snowing. It didn’t stop. We read weather reports. We watched news. I called my doctor and asked what to do. The first answer I got surprised me: Just wait til next week. Next WEEK?! Didn’t we have a PLAN here? I wasn’t sure where my doctor was coming from. We’d had this plan the whole time—Induce early. IT was a plan that I had to work pretty hard to wrap my head around as I got used to the ‘wait and go late’ process with Carolyn and Abigail.
When I was finally able to speak to my doctor I was relieved that she told me that they wanted to get me in as soon as it was safe. The plans and the reasoning behind them hadn’t changed, but our physical safety on the road to Seattle was also being taken into account. She said if we found a window, to come in.
Tuesday it was clear and cold. By the afternoon, even the unpracticed methodology of the state of Washington’s DOT was able to clear the roads enough for us to feel ok about going in. So we did.
On the way, Andy noticed the steering wheel was pulling to the left. When we got to the parking garage we saw that we had an extremely underinflated tire.
That’s right. We basically got a flat tire on the way to the hospital.
We went to the cafeteria to eat some really bad cafeteria food once we got there to give L&D a chance to get ready for us and then we were admitted to our room. All of the stress got to me at that point. The room didn’t feel right. My gown didn’t fit right. Nothing felt comfortable and I knew I was going to be there for a while and I sobbed. Andy got me put back together and I got my head back in the game, but there for a second, I was beside myself.
The induction…. The induction was awful. Maybe I’m a weenie, though having gone through two previous births with no meds at all, I don’t think so. But it was awful. They placed the medication that was supposed to help my cervix ripen and almost immediately I was in pain. I also started having contractions. I had them all night the first night. I was able to breathe through them, but there was no denying that they hurt and they most certainly FELT like labor to me. I had them all day the next day and then on into the evening before it was officially deemed that I was ‘in early labor.’ The whole first 24 hours, I was convinced I was going to be sent home. I wasn’t making progress (I kept thinking, “I never make progress, how will we know if this is any different than my other ‘early labor processes.”). I asked question after question of nurses and doctors about whether my body could do this given the way it normally labors. I relied on the gentle counsel of the labor and delivery nurses who took care of me—and all of them were superb. They listened to my anxieties and reassured me over and over and over again. But mostly. It just hurt. And it didn’t feel like it hurt for a purpose since this question of ‘this might not work and we might send her home’ still lingered.
The evening after the 2nd dose of Cervidil was placed things started to pick up. When I finally decided to be checked I was at 2 centimeters and all of a sudden people started talking as if I was having a baby in the immediate future and not just in shades of vague possibility. I was told I could have the epidural placed soon. People started placing bets on when I’d deliver. It was go time. And THAT… THAT was the best pain medicine in the world. I mentally shifted from the place I’d been in since weeks before the induction of not being able to see past the beginning of the labor, to imagining meeting my baby in a matter of hours.
Also at that point, the pain meds that I had cheerfully foregone the other two times around were sounding pretty darned good.
The delightfully Austrian anesthesiologist was on call that night and he was the one who’d taken my case on initially. He and his resident—a guy with a scraggly beard who lit up when he heard Andy was in the Navy, and spent the time it took him to place the epidural swapping sea stories with Andy—put that part of the plan in place and I came to find that I rather liked the epidural. It sure beat the 24 hours of pain and contractions I’d had up to that point. It was also one of the key ingredients of the plan drawn up by my fabulous and amazing doctor. Epidural = less pain and stress for Mommy = hopefully suppressing any hormonal surges that Tomas might get kicked into from those factors as well as making it more likely that I could labor without pushing (another factor in hopefully keeping Tomas neutralized).
I actually slept on and off for a few hours after I got the epidural. I could still feel the contractions, but they didn’t hurt, and for the first time in the whole process I could and did relax. When I woke up, I looked outside at the snow that was falling and piling up and mused at what a beautiful (early) Thanksgiving morning it was.
Things didn’t pick up super quickly, and in fact, my contractions actually started getting further apart rather than closer together, so they upped the pitocin that they’d started when it was decided that it was ‘go’ time. I was worried that we were headed backwards and got agitated about my progress and started fretting about different possibilities. I was checked again and was at 4 cm. It was hypothesized that maybe this time I would labor ‘like normal’ without the super-fast progress that I normally experience, but the doctor also reported that my bag of waters was ‘bulging’ and that once that broke things might speed up. Sure enough, she left and with the next contraction I felt pressure and then my water broke. In the time it took for the doctor to make it back to check on me again, I’d progressed to 6 cm and the nurse said, “20 minutes from 4-6—if you do that 2 more times, you’ll be complete in 40 minutes.
And that was when I showed them all that I was serious about my labors progressing quickly after a certain point. Much less than 40 minutes had gone by when I knew I was fully dilated and when I was having to suppress the urge to push. The chief resident commented, “So THIS is what all the hype was about—You weren’t kidding about going fast!!!” My team was READY though and in seconds the room was full.
And I do mean full.
My nurse, who’d been staying pretty close for most of the ‘go time’ scenario was soon joined by another nurse and the resident who’d been checking on me all along, as well as the chief resident, and at times the attending on call (my incredible and amazing doctor was being paged like crazy at this point). Two pediatricians came in, along with a nurse for baby. Way back in the back of the room, Austrian Epidural guy and Navy doctor Epidural guy casually lounged around. Catching sight of them caught me off guard a couple of times as I would puzzle through why they were there and remember that it was because I had a crazy tumor and they were there in case of a hypertensive crisis.
Throughout this time, my nurse—who was absolutely incredible, by the way—was talking me through the contractions that I was having and helping me to resist the urge to push. In case you were wondering, NOT pushing during labor is, in my humble opinion MUCH HARDER than pushing ever was for me. I was also given one more really special, eleventh-hour cocktail of drugs to keep me as pain free and relaxed as possible.
Finally my doctor slid into the room, and the party really got started. I was directed through a couple of tiny pushes. I remember hearing the chief resident comment on how strong my uterus was and feeling a little proud. And then he got the forceps and with the help of the resident who’d been with me all night, they delivered Alaine. I could feel her moving right to the end and could feel her move down with each contraction which was really cool considering I could feel those sensations but without pain.
She was born, and there was a lusty cry, and I was done and she was here. The beautiful moment of seeing her perfect little body laying under the lights in the warmer came to pass and she was placed on my chest.
I’d worried for months that because of my ‘protective ambivalence’ and my focus on addressing Tomas, and just all of the emotions and twists and turns we’ve been through in these last nine months, that I wouldn’t feel that rush of love immediately. I worried that she would feel foreign and I would feel detached and those things would break my heart.
That didn’t happen though. I was and am swept up in rapture and delight at this beautiful little creature. Her name means ‘little rock’ and she has been that. She is a steady point of joy for me. I am so very glad that she is here and that we’re beginning the amazing journey of life with three exquisite daughters. She IS real. The joy of her being is every bit as real and consuming as the scary and hard things have been up to this point. I’m relieved to find as much reality in the good and pure and wonderful which encompass her joining our family, as there has been in the hard and scary and unknown. She is real and substantial and I love her.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
NO MORE INTERESTINGNESS
*sigh*
We're supposed to go in to Labor and Delivery this evening for the induction.
I came down with a head cold this weekend....
And...
It's snowing. It never snows here. It's sticking. It's accumulating. Quickly. When it does snow here, it rarely sticks for long. It's dumping from here to Seattle where I'm delivering. And it's supposed to continue snowing all day and stay cold which means it's not going anywhere.
It's a two hour drive to the hospital.
I'm waiting to hear if they're going to postpone the induction or not. I'm hoping that they do. On the other hand, even though I typically go late, I'm nervous that I'll end up going into labor on my own and need to get there anyway.
I'm all for looking at life as a grand adventure. And I took my pastor's message seriously yesterday--I'm trying to use the flash light of gratefulness to look at my life rather than seeing everything through dark glasses (which is why I went outside and made snow angels with the girls).
But it's time for things to not be interesting. It's time for a clear path. It's time to get baby here safely with no more curves or interesting turns of events.
Can I get some people praying on that one, please?
We're supposed to go in to Labor and Delivery this evening for the induction.
I came down with a head cold this weekend....
And...
It's snowing. It never snows here. It's sticking. It's accumulating. Quickly. When it does snow here, it rarely sticks for long. It's dumping from here to Seattle where I'm delivering. And it's supposed to continue snowing all day and stay cold which means it's not going anywhere.
It's a two hour drive to the hospital.
I'm waiting to hear if they're going to postpone the induction or not. I'm hoping that they do. On the other hand, even though I typically go late, I'm nervous that I'll end up going into labor on my own and need to get there anyway.
I'm all for looking at life as a grand adventure. And I took my pastor's message seriously yesterday--I'm trying to use the flash light of gratefulness to look at my life rather than seeing everything through dark glasses (which is why I went outside and made snow angels with the girls).
But it's time for things to not be interesting. It's time for a clear path. It's time to get baby here safely with no more curves or interesting turns of events.
Can I get some people praying on that one, please?
Thursday, November 18, 2010
And Then I Fell...
I was undone by a yellow doll-house accessory. A teeny tiny table or some sort of thing. The girls were upstairs dripping dry from their bath and waiting for the brush that I'd come down to retrieve and I stepped down on a "Holy cow that's sharp," thing and I twisted around, and somehow managed to land on my rear end and not my belly, but I came down hard enough for it to hurt, and for the wind to be knocked out of me, and for me to know that I needed to call Labor and Delivery and I reallydidnotwanttohavetocallLaborandDelivery.
My first thought was, "Ow. And Oof. And Oh." My second thought was, "Dang it, I have to call and what are they going to tell me to do?" And my third thought was, "There's a football game tomorrow at UW.... My doctor will be out of town.... This cannot go awry."
UW's Labor and Delivery predictably suggested that though I hadn't fallen on my belly and though as of yet I wasn't contracting or bleeding, that I should come in and be monitored. Which really wasn't a good thing because after all they're 2 hours away and Andrew was on watch. And how in the heck was this all going to work?
All of which I said to the very nice L&D nurse and she acquiesced to the possibility of my going in to our own Labor and Delivery on base for monitoring with the plan to head south to Seattle if anything looked peculiar. So that's what I determined to do. Then I just had to call and coordinate that with our L&D, find someone to take the kiddos, and call my husband on watch and get there. Which.... all really wasn't that easy.
After a couple of phone calls, I found a friend from church to come be with the girls who were all ready for bed (but had, with almost no prompting from me, also gotten ready for the contingency of coming with Mommy by putting on pantsy pajamas, and shoes and socks and packing their own quiet bag. I was so blown away by their responsibility and concern for Mommy last night). I called Andrew and he made it home in such a short time that I don't want to think about how fast he must have been going. And with everything in place we went to the Labor and Delivery on base.
When we got to base, Andy realized he didn't have his military ID OR his drivers license. So we showed the guard mine and tried to explain. Except they didn't want to let us explain. Finally Andy said, "PLEASE LISTEN. She's 38 weeks pregnant and we have an emergency. We need to get to Labor and Delivery NOW. I left my wallet somewhere in the hurry to get her here because we have an EMERGENCY."
"Well.... do you have a drivers license at least?"
"NO, I LEFT MY WALLET SOMEWHERE--SHE NEEDS MEDICAL CARE."
"You really shouldn't drive without your Drivers License, you know"
"EMERGENCY."
"There's no need to get loud, sir."
"Look--Do I have permission to enter the gate or not?"
*Dubious glances exchanged between the two frustrating gate guards, and then finally a relenting sigh*
Seriously?!! I know they were just doing their jobs, but still... Seriously?!
That little interlude aside (and I guess it's a darn good thign we WEREN'T headed to Seattle with a wallet MIA, really), we got to L&D and they hooked me up to a monitor. Baby hadn't been moving. I kept waiting for a reassuring kick or something as I waited for our friend to get to the house, and during the ride, and as I settled into the bed at the Naval Hospital. I felt pretty sure that she was ok , but I had felt hardly any movement since my butt hit the floor, and that wasn't entirely reassuring.
They put the belts on my belly, and there was her heartbeat. And that was good.
And then we watched the monitor. The nurse came in and watched with us. And she explained that she hoped that her facial expressions and demeanor didn't make me feel unwanted, but they REALLY, REALLY, REALLY did not want me going into labor on their watch, because they REALLY, REALLY, REALLY weren't comfortable having a woman with my particular oddity give birth with their limited capabilities should things go wrong. And again I couldn't believe that I'd almost given birth at this hospital with no questions asked by anyone.
She was very nice despite her caveat about where this baby would ultimately be born. She chatted with us casually about her kids and ours and the shared camaraderie of being female and putting up with the discomforts and of pregnancy, but it was also pretty clear that she wasn't taking any chances with us.
Baby looked great. Heartbeat strong, and now she was trying to kick off the monitor. Also, she got hiccups.
I wasn't showing any signs of placental abruption, which I learned was the big concern with a fall. Even one not involving a belly. But I was having contractions. More than I expected to in only a few hours. I didn't start to feel them until I started tuning into the monitor and then my brain recognized the sensation and suddenly I did feel them. The nurse seemed to want to monitor that a bit more.
So we waited another hour. We watched The Princess Bride which was sitting on the T.V. I tried not to be hyper aware of every baby movement and every contraction by reciting the movie along with the characters since I essentially have it memorized. Somehow, though, just sitting in that uncomfortable bed, strapped to this contraption, wondering.... and wondering.... made me feel everything a little more strongly than normal. And I got progressively more uncomfortable, and increasingly aware of my contractions, and more and more nervous.
Eventually, after checking my cervix, they decided they could send me home. I wasn't going to get so serious about labor that night that I couldn't get myself to UW, but that only made me more nervous because... My doctor was out of town tomorrow, and there was this huge nationally syndicated Football Game happening and all was going to be messed up for hours and what if I went into labor and couldn't deliver with my doctor and someone else who wasn't as amazing took me and things all went wrong? Or what if I went into labor and we got stuck in traffic and the worst happened and we were stranded? Or what if...
I didn't call UW with an update because I desperately did not want to face the possibility of them saying, "Well.... since we have this game tomorrow, maybe you should come in if you're having contractions."
I'm tender today. My belly is tender. I don't know if it's all in my head, or if it's maybe because I twisted to protect myself so quickly when I fell, or for some other reason altogether. I'm walking gingerly everywhere I go. And I'm scared. I'm afraid to sit down wrong, or step wrong. I don't like realizing that I'm having a contraction, whereas normally I'd be glad that my body was doing SOMETHING at least. I'm afraid of lurking dollhouse furniture, and carrying laundry baskets.
Because last night I realized that I'm really just so far away from where my care is. And my case IS unique. And in an emergency, there are going to be some logistics involved which will slow us down. And that reality is scary.
I'm trying so hard not to be rattled by it. I'm trying to take it in a stride. I'm trying to hang onto peace. Lots of people fall when they are pregnant and probably some of them don't even call Labor and Delivery and maybe I shouldn't have either because maybe I wouldn't be so freaked out. But....
I was undone by a piece of doll-house furniture. A piece of doll house furniture and a football game and a two hour drive and the reality that my situation is unique and while everything is really most likely going to be just fine there are extra variables at work. I realized in a new way that even though everything was ok yesterday, that I feel very, very vulnerable. Now I'm just really ready to have the uniqueness of this delivery done and over with so I can focus on my baby for a little bit, before I get scared again.
My friend, Pam, got me out of the house today. We got our hair cut. Nothing perks me up like a hair cut. I'm feeling better by increments, and by tomorrow morning I'll be back to making jokes, and cycling through mania and gooeyness and regular old nerves again. Besides, tomorrow there won't be a football game and if I need to get to Seattle's L&D unit it'll just be the normal pain in the rear 2 hour drive. A regular night of sleep without coming home at midnight will do me good too. I'm ok, and I AM sure that all is going to go well, and we're going to meet this little girl in all her sweet chunky-cheeked glory next week with little fanfare except for the kind that all newborn babies deserve.
How about this though: Until then--keep the dollhouse furniture away from me.
My first thought was, "Ow. And Oof. And Oh." My second thought was, "Dang it, I have to call and what are they going to tell me to do?" And my third thought was, "There's a football game tomorrow at UW.... My doctor will be out of town.... This cannot go awry."
UW's Labor and Delivery predictably suggested that though I hadn't fallen on my belly and though as of yet I wasn't contracting or bleeding, that I should come in and be monitored. Which really wasn't a good thing because after all they're 2 hours away and Andrew was on watch. And how in the heck was this all going to work?
All of which I said to the very nice L&D nurse and she acquiesced to the possibility of my going in to our own Labor and Delivery on base for monitoring with the plan to head south to Seattle if anything looked peculiar. So that's what I determined to do. Then I just had to call and coordinate that with our L&D, find someone to take the kiddos, and call my husband on watch and get there. Which.... all really wasn't that easy.
After a couple of phone calls, I found a friend from church to come be with the girls who were all ready for bed (but had, with almost no prompting from me, also gotten ready for the contingency of coming with Mommy by putting on pantsy pajamas, and shoes and socks and packing their own quiet bag. I was so blown away by their responsibility and concern for Mommy last night). I called Andrew and he made it home in such a short time that I don't want to think about how fast he must have been going. And with everything in place we went to the Labor and Delivery on base.
When we got to base, Andy realized he didn't have his military ID OR his drivers license. So we showed the guard mine and tried to explain. Except they didn't want to let us explain. Finally Andy said, "PLEASE LISTEN. She's 38 weeks pregnant and we have an emergency. We need to get to Labor and Delivery NOW. I left my wallet somewhere in the hurry to get her here because we have an EMERGENCY."
"Well.... do you have a drivers license at least?"
"NO, I LEFT MY WALLET SOMEWHERE--SHE NEEDS MEDICAL CARE."
"You really shouldn't drive without your Drivers License, you know"
"EMERGENCY."
"There's no need to get loud, sir."
"Look--Do I have permission to enter the gate or not?"
*Dubious glances exchanged between the two frustrating gate guards, and then finally a relenting sigh*
Seriously?!! I know they were just doing their jobs, but still... Seriously?!
That little interlude aside (and I guess it's a darn good thign we WEREN'T headed to Seattle with a wallet MIA, really), we got to L&D and they hooked me up to a monitor. Baby hadn't been moving. I kept waiting for a reassuring kick or something as I waited for our friend to get to the house, and during the ride, and as I settled into the bed at the Naval Hospital. I felt pretty sure that she was ok , but I had felt hardly any movement since my butt hit the floor, and that wasn't entirely reassuring.
They put the belts on my belly, and there was her heartbeat. And that was good.
And then we watched the monitor. The nurse came in and watched with us. And she explained that she hoped that her facial expressions and demeanor didn't make me feel unwanted, but they REALLY, REALLY, REALLY did not want me going into labor on their watch, because they REALLY, REALLY, REALLY weren't comfortable having a woman with my particular oddity give birth with their limited capabilities should things go wrong. And again I couldn't believe that I'd almost given birth at this hospital with no questions asked by anyone.
She was very nice despite her caveat about where this baby would ultimately be born. She chatted with us casually about her kids and ours and the shared camaraderie of being female and putting up with the discomforts and of pregnancy, but it was also pretty clear that she wasn't taking any chances with us.
Baby looked great. Heartbeat strong, and now she was trying to kick off the monitor. Also, she got hiccups.
I wasn't showing any signs of placental abruption, which I learned was the big concern with a fall. Even one not involving a belly. But I was having contractions. More than I expected to in only a few hours. I didn't start to feel them until I started tuning into the monitor and then my brain recognized the sensation and suddenly I did feel them. The nurse seemed to want to monitor that a bit more.
So we waited another hour. We watched The Princess Bride which was sitting on the T.V. I tried not to be hyper aware of every baby movement and every contraction by reciting the movie along with the characters since I essentially have it memorized. Somehow, though, just sitting in that uncomfortable bed, strapped to this contraption, wondering.... and wondering.... made me feel everything a little more strongly than normal. And I got progressively more uncomfortable, and increasingly aware of my contractions, and more and more nervous.
Eventually, after checking my cervix, they decided they could send me home. I wasn't going to get so serious about labor that night that I couldn't get myself to UW, but that only made me more nervous because... My doctor was out of town tomorrow, and there was this huge nationally syndicated Football Game happening and all was going to be messed up for hours and what if I went into labor and couldn't deliver with my doctor and someone else who wasn't as amazing took me and things all went wrong? Or what if I went into labor and we got stuck in traffic and the worst happened and we were stranded? Or what if...
I didn't call UW with an update because I desperately did not want to face the possibility of them saying, "Well.... since we have this game tomorrow, maybe you should come in if you're having contractions."
I'm tender today. My belly is tender. I don't know if it's all in my head, or if it's maybe because I twisted to protect myself so quickly when I fell, or for some other reason altogether. I'm walking gingerly everywhere I go. And I'm scared. I'm afraid to sit down wrong, or step wrong. I don't like realizing that I'm having a contraction, whereas normally I'd be glad that my body was doing SOMETHING at least. I'm afraid of lurking dollhouse furniture, and carrying laundry baskets.
Because last night I realized that I'm really just so far away from where my care is. And my case IS unique. And in an emergency, there are going to be some logistics involved which will slow us down. And that reality is scary.
I'm trying so hard not to be rattled by it. I'm trying to take it in a stride. I'm trying to hang onto peace. Lots of people fall when they are pregnant and probably some of them don't even call Labor and Delivery and maybe I shouldn't have either because maybe I wouldn't be so freaked out. But....
I was undone by a piece of doll-house furniture. A piece of doll house furniture and a football game and a two hour drive and the reality that my situation is unique and while everything is really most likely going to be just fine there are extra variables at work. I realized in a new way that even though everything was ok yesterday, that I feel very, very vulnerable. Now I'm just really ready to have the uniqueness of this delivery done and over with so I can focus on my baby for a little bit, before I get scared again.
My friend, Pam, got me out of the house today. We got our hair cut. Nothing perks me up like a hair cut. I'm feeling better by increments, and by tomorrow morning I'll be back to making jokes, and cycling through mania and gooeyness and regular old nerves again. Besides, tomorrow there won't be a football game and if I need to get to Seattle's L&D unit it'll just be the normal pain in the rear 2 hour drive. A regular night of sleep without coming home at midnight will do me good too. I'm ok, and I AM sure that all is going to go well, and we're going to meet this little girl in all her sweet chunky-cheeked glory next week with little fanfare except for the kind that all newborn babies deserve.
How about this though: Until then--keep the dollhouse furniture away from me.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Conversations snatches at the Roseberry's House Lately
"Honey.... My feet are swollen and my back hurts and I'm tired, and my belly is huge, and I have a tumor, and I just feel SOOOO pregnant.... Could you bring me a glass of water?" (At least in a few days he'll only have the tumor part to contend with, right?)
"Holy Cow. We're going to have a baby next week."
"I'm nesting... Can we get these discs of my MRI and ultrasounds burned so I can send stuff to NIH." (I've never nested like that before!)
"Holy Cow. We're going to have a baby next week."
Andrew: "Honey... Are you ok?"
Me with flapping arms: "NO!"
Andrew: "What's Wrong?"
Me with flapping arms: "Oh... I dunno... I'm having a baby next week and I have a lot to get done and we're going to Seattle to have it and the doctor doesn't think my body will do well with the induction the first time and I'm terrified and I have a tumor that's being removed on the other side of the country sometime after the baby gets here.... DON'T I HAVE A RIGHT TO FREAK OUT, DANG IT?"
Andrew completely in control: "Of course, honey."
"Holy Cow. We're going to have THREE KIDS NEXT WEEK?!"
"The doctor says this baby is going to be huge. I mean huge. A huge baby. I'm having a huge baby."
"I'm having a BABY next week?! Why didn't anyone tell me I was gonna have a baby?! I don't think I know what to do with a baby anymore. We're toast!"
"I can't wait to meet her and find out what kind of a personality she's going to have and see her squishy cheeks! Oh... She's gonna be huge."
"We're having a BABY next week! Awww... I'm so excited!"
Yes.... I am alternately manic with preparations, amazingly calm, and totally freaked out this week. The doctor prepared me at our last OB visit that the induction process might take a couple of tries and that I should prepare myself to see a lot of UW next week. I'm trying to gear up mentally for that. In the end I know it'll be worth it to meet this little girl. I try to keep thoughts about the reasons for being in Seattle at bay. I don't even want to entertain the idea of "something tumor-related happening." I'm just planning on them not happening.
In my less together moments I find that I get overwhelmed by the thought that all the things that we've only been planning for up to now will start becoming reality this week, and while the reality of baby girl will surely be wonderful and miraculous, the realities that will come after and in contingency with a very small baby girl are a little daunting.
We keep plugging along though. We ARE excited and delighted about next week (as well as overwhelmed and terrified as you always are when you prepare to bring home a new wee one). The most important thing right now is getting this newest little Sweetheart girl here safely, and that is what we shall do...
I just hope she cooperates the first time around and we can bring her home to be this Thanksgiving's Pumpkin Pie. :)
"Holy Cow. We're going to have a baby next week."
"I'm nesting... Can we get these discs of my MRI and ultrasounds burned so I can send stuff to NIH." (I've never nested like that before!)
"Holy Cow. We're going to have a baby next week."
Andrew: "Honey... Are you ok?"
Me with flapping arms: "NO!"
Andrew: "What's Wrong?"
Me with flapping arms: "Oh... I dunno... I'm having a baby next week and I have a lot to get done and we're going to Seattle to have it and the doctor doesn't think my body will do well with the induction the first time and I'm terrified and I have a tumor that's being removed on the other side of the country sometime after the baby gets here.... DON'T I HAVE A RIGHT TO FREAK OUT, DANG IT?"
Andrew completely in control: "Of course, honey."
"Holy Cow. We're going to have THREE KIDS NEXT WEEK?!"
"The doctor says this baby is going to be huge. I mean huge. A huge baby. I'm having a huge baby."
"I'm having a BABY next week?! Why didn't anyone tell me I was gonna have a baby?! I don't think I know what to do with a baby anymore. We're toast!"
"I can't wait to meet her and find out what kind of a personality she's going to have and see her squishy cheeks! Oh... She's gonna be huge."
"We're having a BABY next week! Awww... I'm so excited!"
Yes.... I am alternately manic with preparations, amazingly calm, and totally freaked out this week. The doctor prepared me at our last OB visit that the induction process might take a couple of tries and that I should prepare myself to see a lot of UW next week. I'm trying to gear up mentally for that. In the end I know it'll be worth it to meet this little girl. I try to keep thoughts about the reasons for being in Seattle at bay. I don't even want to entertain the idea of "something tumor-related happening." I'm just planning on them not happening.
In my less together moments I find that I get overwhelmed by the thought that all the things that we've only been planning for up to now will start becoming reality this week, and while the reality of baby girl will surely be wonderful and miraculous, the realities that will come after and in contingency with a very small baby girl are a little daunting.
We keep plugging along though. We ARE excited and delighted about next week (as well as overwhelmed and terrified as you always are when you prepare to bring home a new wee one). The most important thing right now is getting this newest little Sweetheart girl here safely, and that is what we shall do...
I just hope she cooperates the first time around and we can bring her home to be this Thanksgiving's Pumpkin Pie. :)
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