Happy Birthday

The morning started with this......



and it led to this....



Just wanted to spread the good news....


7 lbs. 11 oz.

19 3/4 inches.



Everyone is doing well.

The end of the world as we know it

This is the last day of the life I've grown pretty accustomed to. Everything changes tomorrow (assuming she doesn't buck the trend of staying put today). It is completely strange to have no idea what your life is going to be like in 24 hours. I can't imagine another scenario that would cause such instantaneous upheaval. Tomorrow morning will be the last time I take a shower before I'm a mom. The last time I make the bed before I'm a mom. I'd love to say the last time I eat breakfast before I'm a mom, but I'm not allowed to eat after midnight.

Knowing that it's the last night of just me and M has its perks. Well, it takes the guesswork out of it at least, and now we know that this is it. We're going out to dinner. Funny thing is, I feel like I'm choosing my "last meal." Sounds awful, right? Like I'm a death row inmate or something. I can't imagine how tough that decision would be considering I'm really not making a monumental choice...I just have to pick what I want for dinner. I've been craving a really good cheeseburger, but I'm sure that something that greasy and heavy is not wise. I'm sure a salad makes more sense, but I can't really see the appeal of that option. How silly am I that I am actually concerned about this? Don't answer that.

Wish us luck.

Hysteria

I think I've been pretty calm throughout the pregnancy. I've only called the doctor's office once worried. This morning, however, there was a five-alarm freak out. At 40 weeks, S is taking up all of the available space in my midsection, and I know that at the end they stop moving around a lot because they just run out of room. This morning she wasn't moving at all, and none of my usual tricks for getting her to wiggle were working. Mass hysteria with big, sobbing crocodile tears ensued. (Otis was very sweet and just laid his head in my lap while I boo-hooed.) Needless to say, I went to the doctor's office and got hooked up to the fetal monitor. Also needless to say, about five seconds after I was hooked up, she decided she wanted to move around. Twerp. I think she was just messing with me. M met me at the office to make sure that both S and I were okay, and since we were both in the office, we went ahead and had an induction scheduled for Thursday. I'm hoping to go into labor on my own before then, but either way, we're having a baby this week. It's a very bizarre feeling.

So, between now and Thursday I'm sure I'll think of all kinds of ridiculous things to get done. Like making sure my eyebrows are plucked and the fridge is cleaned out. Ridiculous. For now, though, I'm going to take a nap. It's been an exhausting day- and now Otis is puking. Awesome.

Hurry up and wait

Still no great progress to report on Baby S. The nurses have started joking that I've been pregnant forever. My doctor told me yesterday that he'll induce me any time that I want now...I just have to make the call. We decided to get through my actual due date. I'll go in for my regular appointment next Wednesday and if she hasn't decided to come out on her own by then, we'll schedule an induction. I'd rather not go that route, but I'd also rather not be prego anymore and I'd rather not have a 12 pound baby. I did pick up some raspberry leaf tea at Wild Oats yesterday. It's another of the crazy old wives' tales about naturally inducing labor. Walking just hurts too much now. So, I'm just hanging out...waiting for something to happen.

In Otis news, he's cracking me up right now. In between sentences, I've been throwing his ball around. He, like most dogs, loves to play fetch. He's unlike other dogs, though, in that he gets tired after awhile. Most other dogs I've played with are not physically capable of ignoring the ball back if you throw it. I've seen dogs that I thought were about to keel over from exhaustion continue to bound back with ball in mouth. Otis operates a bit differently. He'll always go after the ball, but he'll stall on bringing it back. If we're playing in the house, he'll decide he needs to look out the window for a few minutes or run upstairs to check on the status of things. Really he's just worn out. It makes me laugh that he won't just stop playing. I love that furball.

Lucky number seven?

There was some debate for awhile about my due date. I've remained pretty confident about the 24th, but my doctor was throwing around the 21st based on some early measurements. Whichever due date you choose to believe, the timer is about to start buzzing on this bun. While I've obviously been itching to get this party started, I've always had in the back of my mind the fact that my due date was still x-number of weeks away. Not so much anymore. Looking at the calendar, I realize that there are no more Sundays or Wednesdays between the competing due dates. We're almost there. Seven days from today...I'm approaching it like a countdown. Of course, I understand she still may not want to come out and there is a possibility that she'll make like a library book and be "PAST DUE." We've got the 39 week check-up today, so we'll see.

We've been doing some last minute things to get ready. We picked up the diaper champ and a humidifier Monday night, and I am still on the lookout for the Vick's baby rectal thermometer. (How fun, eh?) That sucker is sold out all over town. I'm not surprised since it was in Parents for (I think) the last two months. I also picked up some nursing bras yesterday afternoon, and let me tell you- I'm bringing SexyBack with these suckers. The Playtex Cross Your Heart bra looks like Agent Provocateur compared to these things. Of course, I needed the bras ASAP as I actually morphed into a dairy cow Sunday night and started leaking breastmilk while watching TV. Too much information? Probably.

I've got to jump in the shower...the doctor's office will be waiting. Oh, I also picked up this little happy for Baby S yesterday. I'm hoping I can convince her to like veggies- even if her daddy won't touch them.

Scrubbing bubbles

I just spent three hours cleaning the kitchen. I think they call that the nesting instinct. I dare you to find a spot on the oven door. Dare you. I'm planning to dust, vacuum, and mop in a few minutes...I really only sat down to eat some lunch. (PB&J and a banana- yum) Otis has been laying in the dining room floor, staring at me like I've lost my mind. Of course, he was thrilled when I cleaned out the freezer because he got loads of ice cubes.

Speaking of Otis, he got a new 99 cent ball yesterday when I took him to get his nails trimmed. It's amazing how having something new makes him so completely happy. The new ball is a green version of his favorite orange ball. I think he likes them better than tennis balls because they are softer, so they don't hurt when he catches them. On the downside, because they aren't coated in slobber-absorbing tennis ball fuzz, they are spit-covered orbs of nastiness when you play catch. He loves it, though, and who am I to deny him?

Ooooh, and speaking of balls- bowling at 38 weeks pregnant was not the brightest of ideas. I had an awesome time, but I am miserable today. It was a little freaky how quickly I started to get sore last night after we left the bowling alley. So, note to all pregnant women and future pregnant women- steer clear of the great sport of bowling when you're all enormously prego- or at least stop after the second game when you think you should. I think the third game really did me in. Oh, and under no circumstances should you try to pick up husband's 15 pound bowling ball when you're helping tidy up at the end of the night. That sucker is heavier than you think.

No such luck

Turns out the man in the moon isn't wielding a Pitocin drip. Alas, no baby...the bun is still apparently baking. I'm not upset or anything- I just thought she was going to show up yesterday. At this point, I'm just waiting, albeit uncomfortably and impatiently. She'll come out when she's ready, and I suppose I should get used to things not going exactly as I hope or plan.

I did go straight to the mall after my appointment yesterday- just as I said I would. I walked for about an hour and a half. Correction, I was on my feet for an hour and a half. I'd say a solid 30 minutes of that time was spent perusing the sale racks. I also ate the spiciest chicken burrito I've ever eaten. While it did get her moving, it did not get her moving out. I'm about to give up on the spicy foods. I don't really like them, and I'm more of an instant results kind of girl.

Once I got home yesterday afternoon, I was pretty much pooped. Otis and I just chilled out in front of the TV, and I watched two of the most disturbing shows ever on TLC. The first (I only saw the last 20 minutes or so) was Diets from Hell. The portion of the show I saw discussed three people: one anorexic lady, the Las Vegas competitive hot dog eating champion, and a five-year-old who's never eaten a meal in his life. The anorexic lady was sad. The hot dog guy grossed me out completely...especially since he ate six hot dogs in two minutes while giving the interview. The little boy intrigued me. One of my fears is that I'll have a child who won't eat anything. This child would only eat chips and one particular type of cookie. At first, I wanted to blame his mother, but it showed her repeated attempts at getting the boy to eat. Anytime he saw food, he would start screaming uncontrollably- not in a defiant way, more of a terrified kind of way. Turns out he'd had severe acid reflux since he was a baby and the pain had caused a pretty intense phobia. I have to wonder how his treatment will go. How do you convince a child that something that has always caused him pain won't anymore??

The second show was The 750 Pound Man. It was, obviously, about a man who weighed 750lbs. Actually, he weighed about 760, but who's counting. It was very disturbing. I really had no idea that a human being could get that big. I guess I just thought that a person's organs would just shut down at a certain point, and I thought that point was well before 750 pounds. He ended up dying. He'd gotten a skin infection that traveled to his bloodstream and eventually caused his organs to go kaput from septic shock. It was absolutely awful. Of course, as disturbing as the shows themselves were the commercials airing during them. I'd say that easily 50% of the ads were for weight loss pills...you know, all the different kinds they sell at GNC. Why can't people just lay off the Doritos and go for a walk?? For the record, the rest of the commercials were for ProActiv Solution. I guess they were really feeding on people's insecurities yesterday. Happy New Year to us all.