Mommy Spit Up Her Boob

I have to write this down before I forget. Another hectic night trying to get two babies ready for bed. Chris is in a rush to get out the door for basketball practice and trying to find the Benadryl for Cannon's snotty nose. Cannon is in his crib saying, "Get da Benadryl, Daddy!" It is nowhere to be found. Opal is crying and refusing my boob. Cannon has become quite the helper lately letting me know when Opal spits up. "Opal spit up." Finally I go to the kitchen with my boob hanging out only to find the Benadryl in the REFRIGERATOR! What!? Chris is notorious for not remembering where ANYTHING is or what HE did with it. So I go to give Cannon his Benadryl and set Opal down on his changing table. He says, "Opal spit up." I say, "Did Opal spit up? She didn't spit up." Then he starts saying, "Mommy spit up." "Mommy didn't spit up." He says it again only this time pointing to my shirt and saying it. I look down and see a big wet spot where my exposed boob had been leaking. I laughed and suppose I said something along the lines of "Oh my boob is leaking." Then Cannon proudly makes the following sentence, "Mommy spit up her boob!" He cracks me up!

A Baby Story

Monday, August 29--I was feeling fairly certain that little Opal was going to be an August baby when I started having contractions throughout the day on Monday. I even called the doctor, but they never became consistent. I was feeling desperate so Chris and I went to Provino's for supper and I ordered the eggplant parmesan. (I've never actually known anyone that it really worked for). I ate my leftovers again on Tuesday.
Tuesday, August 30--I had a chiropractor/massage appointment. My massage therapist had been telling me to let her know when I was close enough to my due date and as long as I consented she could hit some pressure points that may help get things going. Again I'm desperate...DO IT!!
Later that day....I saw my regular doctor. I'm 38 weeks pregnant, but my belly is 44 "weeks" pregnant! really??!!! I'm miserable!! Don't worry, kiddo (I don't know why she always called me kiddo) only one more week. You're not going into labor on your own anyway. You're not dilated AT ALL or effaced and she hasn't budged. She's not going anywhere.

I'm still feeling stronger contractions here and there all week and I'm taking a shower every night just in case I wake up in the middle of the night and have to go to the hospital.

September 1 comes and goes and I'm a little disappointed that she's going to miss the deadline for Kindergarten. Silly I know, but that's the teacher in me! I'm convinced that maybe the doctor is right after all and I'm not going to go into labor on my own so I DON'T TAKE A SHOWER THAT NIGHT!!!!!

Friday, September 2, 6:15 AM--I wake up with a crampy pain in my crotch and a strong urge to go to the bathroom. WARNING!! IT'S ABOUT TO GET GRAPHIC!!! So I go to the bathroom and I feel "something" come out. I look and there is what seems to be a big bloody ball about the size of a softball. yikes...is that my "water breaking"? I start calling for Chris and of course he doesn't hear me because he's been sleeping like a baby for the past nine months. I start banging on the bathroom wall and finally he comes in and I make him observe my passing. I then call for my mom who thankfully is already at our house. We all observe "it" as my cramping/obvious contractions are getting worse. These contractions immediately after the strange bathroom occurance. I call the doctor's office and of course they tell me to come on in. The whole thirty minute car ride the contractions are getting worse and worse and I'm getting crankier and crankier because my doctor told me I wasn't going to go into labor on my own no way no how. Granted I did eat the eggplant! We get to the hospital around 7 and Chris drops me off at the door. I enter the main entrance to the hospital because there are no signs for a labor and delivery section like luxurious Northside Atlanta. I'm obviously in pain and I tell the lady at the check-in counter that I need to get to labor and delivery (should have taken that hospital tour!). She asks if I'm in labor...YES! A nurse with a wheelchair FINALLY comes to get me after taking her sweet precious time getting there only to cart me off to a corner in the hallway because THERE ARE NO ROOMS IN THE INN!!! Now I'm thinking this is what Mary felt like! I'm put in a bed, given an IV, asked a lot of questions, etc. and the whole time I'm thinking "why am I in the freaking hall?" No fault of their own, but there is some major lack of communication going on between these nurses.

Anyway, I'm checked for dilation and I am already 6cm! Really? My water broke an hour ago and I wasn't dilated AT ALL two days ago? These contractions are coming hard and I'm crying because it wasn't supposed to be like this and I was thinking even if I went into labor on my own, I'd just go straight to the hospital and I'd get wheeled off to the ER for my C-section. NOPE. I ask for the epidural several times. We can't give you the epidural until you're in a room and there are no rooms! Luckily I have this private screen in front of me and tall people can see over it and it's not awkward at all hearing someone labor in the hall as you pass by! I get some kind of pain meds to take the edge off...not really! The nurses keep asking me if I just want to go ahead and have a VBAC because I'm so close. NO THANK YOU I am not trying to push this baby out and I'm not even a candidate b/c she's not completely head down. GET ME A ROOM ALREADY!! Well here we are TWO HOURS LATER. Two long hours that I've been laboring moaning and groaning in the hall no telling how dilated I am now and I finally get a room! Not just any room though. A triage room that's not even prepped for a C-section! Talk about chaos! Nobody knew what was going on!

Finally after all the shaking and nausea and tugging and pulling "little" Opal comes out looking just like Mommy (according to my doctor) at 9:19 A.M. so cute and perfect looking like her big brother with her little button nose only chubbier! 9 lbs. 4 oz. of perfection. Was it worth it? of course! Will I do it again? NEVER! Sweet sweet Opal, you'll always be my baby girl!

Ten Things I Hate About You (OK...twenty)

disclaimer: this post is not intended for YOU, nor do I actually hate anyone. It is simply more of a deep annoyance/frustration that I have with myself for not being able to be good at birthing babies and anything of the like.

1. You are a mom and you're wearing a bikini.
2. You are a mom and you're wearing a bikini and you gave birth two months ago.
3. You don't have stretch marks.
4. You are fully pregnant and you only gained ten pounds.
5. You only gained twenty pounds.
6. You gained less than fifty pounds.
7. You feel great!
8. You walked three miles the day before you gave birth.
9. You actually went jogging before giving birth.
10. You felt good enough during labor to give us a play by play on facebook.
11. You looked good enough after labor to post a picture of you holding your baby on facebook.
12. You had a euphoric natural childbirth.
13. You had a euphoric natural childbirth AT HOME.
14. You pushed your baby out of your vagina with or without drugs.
15. You felt good enough after pushing out your six pound baby that you left the hospital THE NEXT DAY.
16. You wore your pre-pregnancy clothes to your six week check up.
17. You offered me your maternity clothes AFTER I had given birth because you didn't need them anymore.
18. You can't wait to have another baby.
19. Your body was made for this.
20. You tell me that MY body was made for this.

30 weeks 30 pounds

Two and half weeks ago I was thirty weeks pregnant and had already gained thirty pounds. It was my goal not to gain as much weight this pregnancy which technically so far I haven't. I had already maxed out my weight gain when I was pregnant with Cannon at six months!! Well, at least I know this time that a huge portion of that weight gain is my "little" girl. At my regular twenty week ultrasound my doctor referred to her as "huge" because she was already weighing twelve ounces which was significantly larger than the average eight ounce baby at that stage. Who knew a few ounces could make such a big difference? The ultrasound technician also found some extra fluid in her kidneys. So the Dr. wanted me to have another ultrasound at twenty-six weeks. Still a little extra fluid on the kidneys and still a large baby, so they send me to an ultrasound specialist at thirty weeks. I was a little concerned because of course I look up online what it could mean. I am at least glad I will get to see my baby's sweet little face again. So, the kidneys are clear this time, but they found fluid between her brain and spinal cord which sounds a lot scarier to me! They assure me they are just being cautious and want me to come back in two weeks. Also, her weight gain is rapid as she's already weighing four pounds eight ounces at thirty weeks, which is about a pound and a half above average. So, at thirty-two weeks I go back to the ultrasound specialst and there is a definite space between her brain and spinal cord with extra fluid, but the doctor assures me that he is convinced she will be a "normal" baby and he has only ever been wrong once and that was in 1961. ha. He thinks that the extra fluid is due to her rapid weight gain because larger babies have a tendency to produce more fluid. She is weighing in at five pounds thirteen ounces! yikes! That's almost a thirty-six week baby! There is no way to know if she will have developmental delays until she is actually born and growing. BUT to be on the safe side he wants me to have an MRI next month to check things out becuase the ultrasound can only reveal so much information. He already used the word macrosomic which means "large" baby. A baby weighing more than nine pounds 15 ounces! Now, a baby cannot be labeled as macrosomic until birth, but at the rate she is growing she is going to be a whopper! Later that day I spoke to my OB about scheduling a c-section. I couldn't push out Cannon at 7-7 so there's no way I'm trying to push out a nine or ten pounder! Her head circumference was already measuring about thirty-seven weeks! I know that the birth weight can't be predicted precisely, but I'm not taking any chances. At least I have an excuse for this big ol belly of mine. I hate when people ask me my due date and I have to say September 14!!! Their eyes get wide like saucers and the look on their face says, "bless you"!! I already look ready to pop and feel that way, too. This brings me to some controversial pregnancy related topics which I will save for the next time...

Pregnancy Etiquette 101

1. DON'T TELL ME HOW BIG I'M GETTING!!!!!!!! ESPECIALLY WHEN I'M ONLY 5 MONTHS PREGNANT!!! "Dang, did you grow overnight?" Really? cuz your belly's bigger than mine and you're not even pregnant!

2. I'm not naming my baby "Oprah."

3. "You must be having a girl b/c you're carrying WIDE!!!!" I should just wear a sign that says, "WIDE LOAD" I guess.

Church in the Nizow

I recalled a memory from when I was pregnant with Cannon as I passed a familiar church yesterday. Chris and I stopped at this church over a year ago for a parking lot yardsale. It's one of those semi-new fangled church buildings that only partially resembles a church. I think I ended up buying a little golden book for Cannon, "Mickey's Christmas Carol" for twenty-five cents. While we were there, there were parking lot attendants handing out promotional literature. As we were leaving this one guy asked us if we "go here." Like "Do you go to church here?" Chris and I exchanged the same look and then politely replied no while smiling and accepting their flyer. We waited til we got in the car to make the same comment that if a person doesn't even know if they attend the same church as us then it must be a pretty big ol church--too big to not only not remember a name, but not even a face. I often hear people talk about hospitals or other companies that they like because they are a name not just a number. So, if it's not okay to be just a number when it comes to healthcare or finances, why is it okay to just be a faceless body in the crowd at what should be a very personal experience of fellowship and community?

I'm reminded of another church called "Church in the NOW" that sits ever so gaudily just off I-20 East. It's purple and yellow and conveniently displays the temperature and time on a scrolling marquee. I don't know about you, but that is the FIRST thing I look for when I'm going to church. Thank God they have the temperature here in both Farenheit and Celcius! Praise Jesus!

The Dirty 30

When I was probably say 28 I thought it might be a good idea to make a list. I'd heard of them before. "30 things to do before I'm 30." Well, now I think that's silly. Why do we focus on numbers so much? I've never been good at setting goals and making lists. I'm more of a "fly by the seat of my pants kinda gal." (That's from Pretty Woman:) So instead of making a list of things I need to cross off and do before I'm 30, which will be here ever so shortly, maybe I'll just make more of a committment to live in the moment, not take life for granted, spend more time outdoors, try not to stress about the small stuff, kiss my baby, and just be happier this "year" than I was the year before that. Maybe I'm just copping out b/c I never got around to my list! Whatev....I'll be OK and I'll still be 30 with or without my list and life will go on. 30 is the new 20 right? ha. And what difference does it really make if I do something when I'm 35 or when I'm 29? I'll still have the memories.