I've officially survived the last 2 weeks! So has the baby. So has the daddy.

Last night found me pumping (you know "pumping" because I can't get this baby to breastfeed) and crying into a receiving blanket because my husband was going back to work today and I was going to miss him but didn't want to cry in front of him and make him feel sadder than he already was. Then, it made me worried whether this episode meant I was kicking over into the realm of postpartum depression. I decided I was just sad and a little anxious.

On the list of things people don't tell you about life with a newborn: how fiercely you can miss your husband of 10 years because both of you are walking around in a zombiefied stupor for the last 2 weeks.

Also on that list: taking care of a newborn is a lot of work. OK. Maybe I did know that one. It's just that no amount of knowing can truly prepare you for it.

After pregnancy and childbirth, I was all "that wasn't so bad! I could do that at least one or two more times". These last two weeks has whittled that down to only one more time. Seriously. I just started feeling human. . . oh, Saturday night (when I cuddled next to my husband on the couch after putting the baby to bed). Then, 5 minutes later, I was exhausted again and ready for bed myself.

Baby's already getting bigger. In exchange, according to the natural order of things, I am getting smaller. I'm losing water and weight, which is fabulous.

We're starting to settle into some sort of (dare I say?) routine, in so far as the baby sleeps 3-4 hour stretches at night and we can at least get some decent sleep in between feedings.

Today was my first day all alone with the baby, which meant he cried more than he's used to, but we survived. But we're both secretly glad this is a short work week for dad! Another thing to be thankful for!



When You Wish. . .

I told the doc today was supposed to be the end of the line, but it looks like we’ll be laying down some track. Then, doc uttered the words I longed to hear: “You’re measuring 39 ½, which is right where you should be. You’re a ‘wiggly’ 1 ½ cms dilated (he put 1.5-2 in my chart). You’re 70% thinned. What do you want to do? We can wait for you to go on your own, which I think will happen in the next 3 to 7 days, or we can schedule you for an induction and make it happen.” I told him I’d like to wait another week, at least.

Even as I said them, I couldn’t believe the words were coming out of my mouth - but with my recent progress, and his positive 3-7 day guesstimate, I figured “what the heck?” Just in case, we scheduled me for induction next Wednesday evening, but doc says he doesn’t think I’ll make it that far.

He said whether or not I keep working is up to me. I told him I’m going to go for it. Worst case scenario is that it’s only 4 more days, since I work for the government and Wednesday is a holiday. Surely, I can do 4 more days and not go postal from being fatigued, swollen, and waddling everywhere I go.

In the meantime, I’ve really got to get some groceries (tonight), have a date night with my husband (Friday night), and finish packing that darned hospital bag (Saturday morning/while in early labor??)!

Ever since this afternoon, I've been losing little bits of my mucus plug. Then, about 20 minutes ago, a big clump. . .

Let's get this party started!



Talk (Progress) to Me

Today’s the day I have been aiming at getting to “intact” for several weeks now. Now, with my replacement(s) fully trained at work and M’s semester fully behind him (save the report of his final grade and the filing of leave of absence paperwork for school), I can say we’re truly ready. While everyone is free to float their predictions – so far the clear leader is “sometime this weekend” – I’m ready any time now. Whether Body and Baby agree is an entirely different matter.

So, in that vein, these are the some of the words I would LOVE to hear my doc to say to me tomorrow:

“You’re _____% effaced!” (50 would be nice)
“You’re ____cms dilated!” (1 ½ would be nice)
“Baby’s head is engaged! You’re at __ station!” (-1 or 0 would be nice)
“I think it’ll be ‘sometime this weekend’! Want me to strip your membranes while I'm down here?”



Lists. . . oh and Spectator Sports

I think my "to do lists" are about as done as they are going to get. Well, that is, I still technically need to finish packing hospital bag(s). And I haven't hung pictures in the nursery yet. And I should walk to try and get this baby out. And my house is a mess. And I need to get groceries. And I should really air up my exercise/"birth" ball. And I'm exhausted, so I should probably sleep sometime in there.

But, things are wrapping up nicely at work. In fact, after tomorrow, there's almost not a need for me to be there. (Almost.) And the school work is now done for a couple of months thanks to my husband's AWEsome wife who helped him finish (i.e. basically did for him) his last project. And if M can get through 4 hours of work tomorrow (I'm sure he can), he'll officially be eligible for FMLA.

So. . .the photo albums? Not getting done anytime soon (unless I skip out on work and take leave "early").

The childcare issue? Will have to wait until the baby's here and we have some time off to go and tour a couple of places.

L&D convo with doc? Is SO happening on Thursday.

If he tells me I've still made no progress, I might or might not cry. Because the daily questions about "when" I'm going into labor are bordering on harassment. I'm as much of a spectator here as anyone else. . . watching, waiting. . .

And, no, there's not a "pool" yet on when the blessed event will actually take place. At least not to my knowledge.


"May you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days. And out of that love, remake a world." -Ray Bradbury